I love to both read and write. This blog will cover a variety of topics including music, pop culture, movie reviews, and travel. I am an avid movie watcher and I love listening to many kinds of music. Growing up in New York, I have been fortunate to attend many Broadway shows, which has sparked my love of theater and culture in New York. My goal is to become an entertainment journalist, because the job combines two of my favorite things, writing and pop-culture.
The crowd in Bryant Park was buzzing with electric delight as the stars of the evening’s secret (((artist’s den))) show, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, took the stage at 7:30 last Thursday night. I personally was expecting my socks to be blown off based purely on the pure perfection that is the band’s third, self-titled album. Little did anyone in the roughly 200-deep crowd that not only were Ms. Potter and her Nocturnals about to blow everyone’s socks off their fee, but would also be redefining what a live concert experience should be in its most perfect form.
As he sheepishly batted his hands at the audience in embarrassment, Keane’s lead singer Tom Chaplin mumbled, “thanks guys” under his breath, clearly taken aback by the overwhelming applause. Keane had just finished playing their new single “Stop For a Minute” for a captive audience of about fifty people in Webster Hall’s musty basement. As Chaplin sang “and if I stop for a minute / I think about things I really don’t wanna know” the audience swayed along, eyes glued to the stage, the general feel of the whole afternoon.
Last Saturday, I had the true pleasure of attending what was shaping up to be one of the best concerts of the year. Headlined by the truly ingenious rapper M.I.A. and featuring a slew of openers’ whose genres ranged from hip-hop (the delicious Rye Rye) and electro-rock (Sleigh Bells), the festival was, for the most part, a fantastic experience. However, perhaps M.I.A. should next time pick different artists the next time she headlines a festival, as nearly every opener heartily upstaged the supposed main attraction.
Last week, I had the opportunity to check out Broken Bells' secret, acoustic show at Webster Hall. Ah, the perks that come with my incredible summer internship...
On the hottest day of the year so far, a fiery haired goddess swept into the Paradise Rock Club in Boston and put on such a big show, the club could barely contain it. I’m speaking of the British band Florence and the Machine, and with all due respect to the musicians, this concert was all about lead singer “Flo” as she likes to be called. She is quite an odd little character. With shocking red hair and creamy white skin, she looks like a porcelain doll. Before she went on, the stagehands scattered flowers all over the stage and the instruments, furthering the sweet image surrounding the girl. When Florence Welch stepped foot on stage, the audience went absolutely insane, knowing full well what it was in store for. It was like people were bracing themselves, and rightfully so; as soon as she opened her mouth, Florence blew the roof off the club. Her voice is so powerful and absolutely gorgeous in complete opposition to her looks; you expect sweet, she gives you brash and boisterous.
Starting with the vocal roller-coaster ride “Howl” was a bold move, as it literally runs through every note that Florence can possibly hit. I almost wondered how she could top it, but as she powered through her album, she proved that she was a truly diverse and engaging artist. This was the only the second concert that I’ve been to where I really felt like it was a true “rock experience”, the first being fellow—yet quite different—British songbird Little Boots. Perhaps they do a better job of teaching manners on the other side of the pond, because Florence made each and every audience member feel special and unique. She bounced around the stage with the energy and vivacity of a hyperactive child, but knew how to restrain herself too. Whenever she would howl, the audience screamed, feeding her immense voice. Whereas in other shows that I’ve seen at the Paradise, the artists’ hits were greeted with the biggest applause, each and every one of Florence’s songs—even the one off of the “special deluxe box set. I swear I’m not trying to sell you shit!”—were heralded with wild applause. Big winners were “You’ve Got the Love” which the entire audience sang along to, “Kiss With a Fist”, and “I’m Not Calling You a Liar.” Vocally, the woman is unparalleled in the music industry. Nobody can hit notes and hold them as amazingly as she can, and still continue to sing right after wailing like that! Thin-voiced pop stars like Rihanna and Miley Cyrus cant even hold a candle to this remarkably talented songstress.
Florence showed off her charm and quirk in between her songs. She really couldn’t thank us enough, and whenever she did, she seemed so genuinely gracious. She came close to tears when the encore ended as she said “Really though, Boston, you’ve opened your hearts to me and I hope that it seemed I did the same to you. You’re all so truly lovely!” I, for one, can’t wait to have her back.
Here's a medium quality video of Florence + The Machine doing "Howl":
On a chilly Sunday night in Boston, surfer rock met electro on stage at the Paradise Rock Club in the form of Beach House, the phenomenal band who is currently on tour in support of their new album, “Teen Dream.” Kicking things off with the haunting “Walk in the Park”, singer/keyboardist Victoria Legrand waxed poetic about a past love. Accompanied by guitarist Alex Scally, the longhaired Legrand crooned how “in a matter of time, you will slip from my mind” as five sparkly, diamond shaped objects twirled around on stage. Long, shiny streamers that looked like jellyfish drifting through the water were draped from all the corners of the stage. Some people looked around in confusion, possibly wondering where the energy was, but the whole point of a Beach House show is escapism. The band provides a calm but ebullient retreat from everyday worries. While singing dreamy crowd pleasers like “Zebra” and “Norway” Legrand smiled knowingly; their two biggest hits off of Dream, the songs brought on an audience sing along. Legrand’s amazingly mysterious chanting completely drowned their voices out. As she sang “anyway you run, you run before us / black and white horse, arching among us” you couldn’t help but wonder where this angelic voice was coming from, spinning tales of romantic woe and distress. Equal parts smoky, otherworldly, entrancing, and velvety smooth, her vocals proved the perfect cure for the rainy-day blues of the outside world. Her only problem was her stage presence: after having seen concerts with Lady Gaga, Allison Mosshart (of The Kills and The Dead Weather), and Patti Smith, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something lacking in Beach House’s show. Albeit, their music is highly different than the three aforementioned artists: think The Beach Boys meets MGMT meets Fleet Foxes on a beach wearing hoodies. However much she was able to connect with her songs, with her head bobbing and feet stomping, Legrand never seemed altogether there. Perhaps the mysticism of her music had swept her away too, but nonetheless, Beach House’s nearly perfect show was the right way to start off a week.
