Priscilla Ahn's Impressive Debut



Delicate melodies and intricate arrangements make for a charming debut EP by singer/songwriter Priscilla Ahn. The purity of Ahn’s voice evokes that of a young Joni Mitchell while still sounding fresh and unique. “Dream” is the standout track, striking in its blend of childlike imagery and sophisticated harmonies. Overall, in this small yet impressive collection of songs, Priscilla Ahn reveals a talent with remarkable promise.

God and His Disciples: Clapton Rises in Orlando

Eric Clapton: October 20, 2006: T.D. Waterhouse Center: Orlando, FL

Quite simply, Eric Clapton is the greatest guitarist of all time. Debates can rage about who falls in line below his rank, but there remains no doubt that Clapton reigns supreme. Friday night in Orlando, the artist formerly known as God proved the point through seventeen extraordinary performances in a set lasting over two hours. Modestly taking the stage with a band that included guitarists Doyle Bramhall II and Derek Trucks, Clapton commenced with “Pretending,” which segued into a vigorous run-through of “I Shot The Sheriff”.

With Trucks seemingly channeling the late Duane Allman, Derek and the Dominos music dominated the night, much to the joy of the riveted audience. The first of those gems, “Got To Get Better In A Little While,” burned for nearly fifteen minutes, allowing for searing solos from Trucks, Bramhall II, and of course, Clapton. Bluesman Robert Cray reprised his original role on “Old Love,” a tumultuous track on Clapton’s 1989 album, Journeyman. “Anyday,” a Derek and the Dominos rarity, simmered through another round of astonishing solos, which was followed by a thrilling take on “Motherless Children,” from Clapton’s solo masterwork, 461 Ocean Boulevard. A short set of mostly acoustic songs included “Key To The Highway,” “San Francisco Bay Blues” (with Clapton amusingly blowing a kazoo), “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out, ” and “Running On Faith”.

“After Midnight” sounded lively and brisk, much to the credit of drummer Steve Jordan, who kept the tempo running hot. “Little Queen Of Spades” exploded into a guitar onslaught that further showcased the exceptional talents of Trucks and Bramhall II. “Further On Up The Road” offered a bit of levity after the intensity of the preceding performance. Beautiful yet brief, “Wonderful Tonight” inspired couples to slow dance in the aisles of the arena. With an anxious crowd now on their feet, “Layla” erupted with the most erotic riff in rock music history. Clapton soared though the epic with as much yearning and drive as he did on the Derek and the Domino’s classic original. “Cocaine,” grittier and heavier than ever, closed out the main set.

As the encore, Clapton brought Robert Cray back for “Crossroads,” the only song of the concert to have been covered by Cream. Alternating vocals and licks, Clapton, Cray, Trucks, and Bramhall II barnstormed through the Robert Johnson staple in what was nothing short of a blues summit. And while stepping aside to yield the stage to the younger guitarists, Clapton did accordingly take his own moments to shine. In those moments, in the last song as much as in the previous sixteen, the music legend unassumingly, yet undeniably, illustrated that he is without peer. No guitarist, now or in times long gone, can or ever did surpass Slowhand.

Soak Up The Fun: Sheryl Crow & John Mayer

Sheryl Crow & John Mayer: October 12, 2006: Ford Amphitheatre: Tampa, FL

“Daughters” is a serious, poignant song for John Mayer to perform. So when Sheryl Crow bounded on stage in a baby-blue bikini, twirling a baton like a high-strung teenager, Mayer’s anticipated performance of that song became the perfect opportunity for a prank at his expense. While her band, amusingly dressed in diapers and a bird suit and a penguin costume, cavorted across the stage, Sheryl Crow did her utmost to throw John Mayer for a loop. He managed to get through the song, but the charming sight of Sheryl Crow wearing next to nothing made the young man blush. “This doesn’t happen every night,” Mayer said afterwards in awe of the woman. “But it should.”

Even before frolicking in her two-piece, an ebullient Sheryl Crow (clad in jeans and black blouse) revved up the crowd, kick starting the concert with “A Change Would Do You Good” that included a juicy bit of the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”. Mayer joined in on “My Favorite Mistake,” after which Crow joked, “Step aside, Jessica Simpson!” Mayer’s rumored ex-girlfriend. A pointed take on “Redemption Day,” from her 1996 eponymous album, presaged a plaintive rendition of “Strong Enough,” from her 1994 debut, Tuesday Night Music Club. Crow then invited concert opener Marjorie Fair to jam on the James Gang rocker, “Walk Away,” setting the stage for a raucous sequence of songs to end her set. “If It Makes You Happy” and “Steve McQueen” riled up the audience. “Soak Up The Sun” and “Everyday Is A Winding Road” found everyone on their feet in a frenzy. And with that, Sheryl Crow got the Led out, plowing full-throttle through Led Zeppelin’s “Rock And Roll”.

Beginning with “Belief,” a track from his latest album, Continuum, John Mayer pursued a more subdued approach in his set. Songs like “Good Love Is On The Way” and “Waiting On The World To Change” demonstrated soulful momentum and groove, but the finest performances lay in songs more restrained. “Slow Dancing In A Burning Room” sounded as sultry as the title suggests. “Gravity,” arguably the most moving song of his set, illustrated the breadth of Mayer’s prowess on the guitar. His scorching solos sounded (and looked) like something straight out of the Clapton handbook. A clear crowd-favorite, “Why Georgia,” from his debut album, Room For Squares, closed out Mayer’s main set. After starting the encore with a questionable cover of the Police’s “Message In A Bottle,” Mayer hit full stride with his own “I’m Gonna Find Another You,” a fantastic song that finished off the night with a gut-wrenching guitar performance.

It’s evident that John Mayer takes his musicianship seriously, but he’s humble and human enough to have fun in the process. And so, in trying to refocus his attention after the practical joke during “Daughters,” Mayer candidly ran through the effort it took him in his mind to do so. “I’m thinking of power tools…of night classes involving cooking…and I’m back to thinking about a naked Sheryl Crow”.

All The Hounds Will Start To Roar: Tom Waits Takes The Stage

Tom Waits: August 1, 2006: The Tabernacle, Atlanta

Honest to God, it happened like this: Projected from behind a sheer stage curtain, the silhouette of a guy with poor posture and a porkpie hat roused two thousand, five hundred seemingly rational people to erupt. Bringing forth a figure of myth to life, Tom Waits ambled out to a roaring reception from a body-to-body packed crowd inside Atlanta’s historic Tabernacle. Tipping his hat in thanks, Waits turned to crank up the band, repeatedly stomping a foot to get them started. A rough and rumbling groove got off the ground, sounding like a locomotive running low on diesel. All aboard and rolling, that inimitable Tom Waits voice, the best instrument in the band, howled, “Make It Rain,” from 2004’s Real Gone.

Being the first show of the 8-night (9-city) Orphans tour, no one in attendance knew for certain what songs the notoriously unpredictable Waits would perform. Many anticipated hearing songs from his upcoming box set, also titled Orphans, which comprises three discs of rare and previously unreleased tracks. Given the severe rarity of seeing Tom Waits in concert, many others hoped to hear classic (or at least familiar) songs.

After plowing through “Hoist That Rag,” another thunderous track from Real Gone, Waits began “Shore Leave,” from his 1983 tour de force, Swordfishtrombones, the first sign that this night would indeed contain some gems. Next up was “God’s Away On Business” and “November,” the former a relatively recent number, the latter somewhat older and obscure. Alternating between keyboards and vibraphone, Ben Thompson added effects and accompaniment essential to fleshing out the peculiar-sounding music of Tom Waits. Those wishing to hear classic material got their wishes granted with a double shot: a revised arrangement of “Til The Money Runs Out” and a gut-wrenching rendition of “Blue Valentines,” both mesmerizing the already rapt audience.

Shifting gears and sitting at a baby grand piano, Waits strikingly resembled the image of the garrulous lounge singer that launched his legend in the 1970s. Bassist Larry Taylor, switching from an electric to an upright to accompany Waits on piano, further underscored that image. “Lucky Day,” from The Black Rider, started off this portion of the show. Between songs, Waits offered up a few hilarious anecdotes, like how he discovered a dubious ingredient of a popular dog treat (pulled bull penis). “Why would you give that to your dog? You love your dog,” he said in bewilderment. To the din of laughter and applause, he tickled the ivories to “Tango Til They’re Sore,” from Rain Dogs. “House Where Nobody Lives,” an aching ballad from 1999’s acclaimed and adored Mule Variations, finished off the three-song segment.

After two stagehands carried his piano away, Waits stood back behind the microphone stand, twitching in spastic reaction to the clamoring of “Don’t Go Into That Barn”. A cover of bluesman Howlin’ Wolf’s “Who’s Been Talkin’” segued into his own “Whistlin’ Past the Graveyard,” which, in retrospect, seems strangely appropriate. Introducing “9th And Hennepin,” Waits spoke about returning to a decrepit town he’d long since left only to find it revitalized and selling frozen yogurt. The story yielded a hearty response from the Atlanta crowd given that the man last played their city almost thirty years ago. “Trampled Rose” then presaged “Get Behind The Mule,” both thumping along in bass-slapping rhythms. “Murder In The Red Barn,” from the 1992 Grammy Award winning masterwork, Bone Machine, reached cinematic heights with Waits looking every bit the ornery spook that he sounds like on the song. The main set concluded with a raucous rendering of “Shake It”.

“Singapore,” track one on Rain Dogs, jumpstarted the first of two encores. Guitarist Duke Robillard set up the subsequent song, mischievously grinning as his animated blues chords teased the audience. Next, with tympani mallets in hands, Casey Waits, son of Tom, assaulted the drums with a vengeance while the rest of the band ignited into “Goin’ Out West”. “I ain’t no extra, baby,” Waits wailed. “I’m a leading man!” How true. And so ended the first encore.

For the initial song of the final encore, Waits performed the most prescient (and arguably the most moving) song of the night, “Day After Tomorrow”. Written as a young soldier’s letter home from war, a verse of this 2004 vignette says:

I close my eyes every night
And dream that I can hold you
They fill us full of lies that everyone buys
About what it means to be a soldier
I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel
About all the blood that’s been spilled
Look out on the street
Get me back home
On the day after tomorrow

Strumming his acoustic guitar while the band played softly, Waits sang with a lilt in his otherwise trembling voice. He seemed genuinely moved by the audience’s overwhelming response upon the song’s completion. Capping things off on a more upbeat note, Waits and band dug into the beatnik title track of his 1980 album, Heart Attack And Vine. Afterwards, holding his hat aloft to a deafening ovation, Waits stood at the foot of the stage, his expression a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment. For those in attendance, Tom Waits not only lived up to his iconic stature and myth. He enriched it.

Ryan Adams: Heartbreaker [concert review]

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals: July 30, 2006: The Tabernacle, Atlanta

"Finally!" someone shouted when Ryan Adams laid into the familiar harmonica strains of "Come Pick Me Up," the last song of the concert and of his two-night stand at the Tabernacle in Atlanta. Word had spread that the first night featured Adams delivering an extraordinary performance chocked full of crowd favorites. Unfortunately, for night two, Adams didn't satisfy the audience until the end of the concert. In a show comprised mostly of obscure songs from his latest three albums (Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights, and 29, all released last year), the notoriously prolific yet erratic songwriter played just a few memorable crowd pleasers.

While much of the setlist didn't overly enthuse everyone, some lesser-known songs went over rather well. Perched at an upright piano with a lit cigarette in his mouth, Adams played an ominous, emotional rendition of "Nightbirds," by far the most compelling song on 29 and arguably one of the best songs he has written to date. Also, a riveting take on "This House Is Not For Sale" and an acoustic cover of the Oasis hit, "Wonderwall," both from his 2004 EP, Love Is Hell (part I), snagged the crowd's attention.

Not until Adams began "La Cienega Just Smiled," however, towards the end of the show, did the crowd begin to respond with universal applause and enthusiasm. By the time he reached "Come Pick Me Up," sadly the only track performed from his landmark album, Heartbreaker, Ryan Adams ultimately locked in a positive response from the entire audience. At one point during the show, Adams had mentioned that he would not repeat any song from the previous night's concert. Perhaps he should have reconsidered.

Blue Alert by Anjani [CD review]

Blue Alert resonates with sensual warmth, blending Anjani's fluid feminine voice with sagacious lyrics by Leonard Cohen. Anjani's sultry inflections underscore the album's adult observations on intimacy, love, and remorse. Illustrating Cohen's legendary clout with language, Anjani shines on "Never Got To Love You":

The memories come back empty
Like their batteries are low
It feels like you just left me
Tho’ it happened years ago

Blue Alert, as a whole, offers a plethora of equally crafted lines and phrasings. Given Anjani's impeccable vocal delivery, this album deserves its own suite in Leonard Cohen's tower of song.

Innocent When You Dream: My Adventure With Tom Waits

It's 1996. There's a radio onslaught of Hootie & The Blowfish that's inescapable. Before satellite radio and iPods saved the sanity of listeners wanting to hear something different every ten minutes, there seemed no conceivable way to avoid that band at that time. I'd surrendered to my fate one night, listening to a radio simulcast of Hootie & The Blowfish playing a gig for MTV Unplugged. One of the songs they played, however, didn't sound like one of their songs. The lyrics were perceptive and unusually candid. The music echoed and swayed in a gloomy melody. The song struck me so hard and so instantaneously that I wrote down the words as I heard them. The title of the song seemed to be called "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love WIth You," which sounded like an odd sentiment. Shortly after that performance, I did a little research and learned that the writer of the song was a guy named Tom Waits.

A couple days later, I stole away to my local music shop, in search of something by this Waits guy. The first disc I spotted contained the song, "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You". The album, which was recorded in 1972, was called Closing Time. I bought the disc, took it home, turned it on, and the way I appreciated music changed forever. Songs about loneliness, old flames, and new sparks that wouldn't light hit me hard. Even for a boy like me who thought he understood sadness and loss, these songs illustrated how far down I still could fall.

Within weeks, I'd amassed every album Tom Waits had recorded to that point. I found a book about him, which said that he'd been born in a taxicab somewhere in California (the details are still sketchy now). I learned about his famous romance with Rickie Lee Jones in the late 70s, his nine-year residency at the infamous Tropicana Motel, the notorious drunken beatnik persona he assumed on stage. I found myself fascinated by this guy's life as much as his music. The fact that his music sounded so unconventional only made this whole adventure all the more thrilling for me. Even the song titles sounded bizarre: "Telephone Call From Istanbul," "Rain Dogs," "Christmas Card From A Hooker In Minneapolis". For a boy who'd stayed pretty close to home growing up, these songs shot my imagination wide open. Listening to Tom Waits was (and remains) an unparalleled vicarious experience.

Now, a decade after first discovering this treasure trove of musical despondency, I'm traveling to Atlanta to see Tom Waits in concert for the first time. I've spent the last ten years listening, learning. Hang on St. Christopher. Yesterday is here. And thanks, Hootie, for getting me hooked in the first place.