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By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 01/28/2008

A few months ago I gave my parents a copy of Jim Guthrie's last solo album, 2003's Now, More than Ever, thinking it a perfect compromise between new-school talent and old-school craft sure to please them as much as it had myself. While they didn't hate it, they found its relative singularity of pace and arrangement to err on the side of monotony. I was taken slightly aback, because to my ears, each song had a completely distinct identity. Strangely, I now find myself on the other side of that debate with the Radar Bros.' fifth album, Auditorium -- a curious moniker for a release whose song titles and lyrics nod almost universally to nature. Across its twelve tracks there is very little change in tempo or instrumentation, and Jim Putnam's vocals don't do much to cut through the din. Occasionally, a stray lyric will catch the ear -- "lord of the flies / bright towers in the Southern skies / I keep drinking your tailgate piss / it's you I miss" -- but most hover competently in the songs without much intrusion. It's when they cling a little closer to a single idiom that they flourish. Downcast ballad, "Hills of Stone," marries the layered approach of the rest of the album to a minor-key piano backing to great effect, while "Lake Life" brings to mind departed Modesto greats Grandaddy with its spacey keyboards, lazy pace and sunny chord progression. After those two highlights, though, the album settles back into its aimless trajectory. With its energy levels at a steady low and its songwriting so uniform, Auditorium is an appropriate listen for nights of solemn stasis but too uniform to capture the imagination otherwise.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

By Comma Chameleon - Semicolon Cancer; - 12/07/2007

I went into Club Soda with, admittedly, slightly raised expectations. OK granted, there are few seats at the Club; if you want to go upstairs to the mezzanine and claim a seat that's a treat, but you have to snag it fast. The two consecutive nights that Two Hours Traffic opened for the Pascale Picard Band were complete and utter sell-outs. I was somehow tricked into thinking that it was reversed: Pascale Picard opening for THT! Who did this!? I had seen THT play before... and as I came in late (no excuse), I caught the second half of their set, chocked with perfectly scream-worthy (self-proclaimed) "power pop" melodies that people seemed to catch like The Cure, and sort of had taken it upon themselves to bop around liberally within their confined space.

Where did these young guns pop up from? They're good ol' boys -- the last thing I'd seen of theirs was their music vid for “Jezebel.” I had heard nothing directly off of their latest studio album, Little Jabs (are they pulling a few punches?), but regardless, lordy, colour me impressed. Appreciate the well-adjusted sound? I applaud the venue. Kudos and three thumbs up to the sound tech at C-Soda for bringing out the rhythm section and high fives to THT guys for pumping up and filling out their eager chant and stomp breakdowns, and a free whistle on a gold keychain for bringing front guy Liam Corcoran's melodic, but not overwrought huff-and-puff delivery to the fore. Thanks guys -- nice set.

Here came the mind-boggler: a good 20 minutes later, Ms. Picard hopped up onstage and the crowd went temporarily primal. This is batshit insane. These people are bloody Thai stir-fry crazy -- this woman just popped up, and people screamed, like someone hit the panic alarm button. I have to give props and accessories to Pascale Picard's band, they're quite talented and I think the show was a fine testament of that. I had a few winces when Picard opened the set screaming like the devil, and then throughout the rest of the night like a girl who found out her band had taken a shit on her pumpkin pie after eating everything else on the spice rack. People seemed to like this woman; the middle-aged Joe and his woman next to me were having a great time.

I saw Picard as an Ani DiFranco type, without the element of strong song writing or charmingly quirky vocal capabilities. I wanted to see into the depths of her lyrical jabs that the crowd was applauding but I couldn't make out a word she was saying. I was unable to shake the feeling that I was unwillingly undergoing an aural hysterectomy. Borrowing a line or two from The Big Lebowski, I feel like a small child who walked into the theatre in the middle of a movie. There has to have been something I missed here.

Tune in to Semicolon Cancer; with Comma Chameleon every Sunday from 9am - 10:30am

By Mike Bresciani - The Lonesome Strangers - 10/27/2007

How biased can a review of a Rogue Wave show be? Let’s find out…

Rogue Wave was back at the Cabaret Juste Pour Rire music hall after having played a split-bill with Nada Surf on their 2006 Winter tour. This time around, as headliners, the draw was significantly smaller, with the top half of the Cabaret being closed off. It didn’t matter, anyhow. The concert floor was full of eager fans waiting to hear their favorite Rogue Wave tunes.

A lot has changed for Rogue Wave since their 2005 sophomore release, Descended Like Vultures. For starters, there’s yet another new bassist in the band, as Patrick Abernathy took Evan Farrell’s place in the lineup in early 2007. Along with a new member, the band had just released a new album, Asleep at Geaven’s Gate, while switching over from Sub Pop to Jack Johnson’s Brushfire Records. Asleep…’s sound doesn’t stray from their signature dreamy, introspective pop, and while Descended Like Vultures might’ve caught your ear upon first listen, their latest release may take a couple trips to sink in.

One has to wonder: when was the last time you went to a show, eager to hear some "new stuff"? Really, think it over. Although we look forward to hearing new material from our favorite artists, we seldom want to hear it performed, since we look forward to hearing our desired songs. Tonight was no exception, as people in attendance were calling upon Zach Rogue to perform their personal favorites. "Eyes" and "California" were probably the most anticipated songs of the evening, as members of the audience kept screaming out one or the other. The band did play a hearty selection from their entire catalogue, providing an obvious emphasis on the new record. Songs like "Lake Michigan" and "Harmonium" stood out, while "Chicago X 12" took special notice, as it was introduced as a song about drummer Pat Spurgeon’s need for a new kidney (which he did, thankfully receive).

Older songs like "Every Moment" and "Bird on a Wire" were given a live makeover, as they were played in a more up-tempo manner, while the rest of the Rogue Wave catalogue remained rather intact. This reviewers’ personal highlight of the show would be hearing the whimsical "Sewn up" from 2003’s Out of the Shadows, while the low-point was leaving the show not having heard "Love’s Lost Guarantee" after hearing the song over and over in the Wristcutters: A Love Story movie trailer.

How many times have we come across Rogue Wave without ever owning one of their albums? When one thinks of cross-marketing music with film and television, it’s easy to jump to a band like Rogue Wave (in a good way, of course). Their songs are everywhere, from blockbusters like Spiderman and Napoleon Dynamite, to television shows like Weeds, Heroes, and the defunct O.C. This is where the lines between "selling out" and "earning an honest living" become blurred; however, most fans and critics would presume the latter of the two. With this in mind, it’s fair to believe that a good chunk of their fan base was introduced through one of these many mediums, though there’s no shame in admitting it (yours truly downloaded "Bird on a Wire" years ago, assuming it was a tribute, and was pleasantly surprised…).

And so, for fans and newcomers to Rogue Wave, please note: even though the O.C. has always sucked, Rogue Wave’s music is still wonderful, and they remain at the top of their game.

Tune in to The Lonesome Strangers with Mikey B every Wednesday from 3pm – 5pm

By Josh Mocle - The Kids Are So-So - 11/17/2007

It was bound to happen eventually. In fact, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for me to write a Dropkick Murphys review. The effect this band has had on me, the music I choose to listen to and in some ways the way I live my life in general, is immense (and slightly pathetic). This could either be the easiest review I’ve ever written or the hardest. That having been said, I’m committed to not letting this thing spiral into a mindless love-fest, however, I’m entirely incapable of judging whether it does or not. That one’s up to you.

Chicago’s The Tossers opened the show and to be honest, I can’t remember a band who made me physically yawn more (my lack of sleep the night before had NOTHING to do with it.) I’ve never seen a band who seems to solely exist in order to open for Flogging Molly (thus, them opening for Dropkick is also acceptable…I guess). However, unlike Flogging Molly, there really isn’t anything original about The Tossers. The potential for greatness is definitely there, what with the violin, tin whistle and electric mandolin, but they just don’t pull it off. Their stereotypical Celt-Punk really fell flat for me and just came off as a watered-down version of the band they were warming the audience up for. However, the (I can only assume) mostly Irish crowd loved it, so to each their own.

Next up were The Briggs out of Los Angeles who thoroughly disappointed me when I saw them open for Bad Religion earlier this year but who managed to completely turn it around for this performance. Taking the stage not unlike The Bouncing Souls (which makes sense given they’re pretty much the same band from the opposite coast), they roared through about forty-five minutes of aging pop-punk goodness. Like many of their contemporaries (the aforementioned Bouncing Souls, but also the Street Dogs and to an extent, Rancid), they deliver the same played out method of songwriting and performance but still manage to keep it interesting and fun; certainly not the greatest of all performances, but definitely not the worst.

Which brings us to Dropkick. The situation almost felt like a déjà vu (probably since this was my fourth time experiencing it) as the crowded room darkened, the “let’s go Murphys” chants began and the traditional Irish folk tune that I still haven’t been able to identify began playing on the house speakers. A moment later the band entered and ripped into “Famous for Nothing,” the first track on their new record, The Meanest of Times. While this made perfect sense given that this was the album release tour (dubbed, probably un-ironically, “the meanest of tours”) for that record, the fact that they didn’t open with “For Boston” was slightly disappointing. What followed was an hour and a half of Dropkick classics, ranging from their street punk songs like “The Gang’s All Here” to their traditional Irish-infused punk tracks like, amongst others, “Fields of Athenry.” Peppered in between were tracks off the new record, all of which managed to translate well live, as most Dropkick songs tend to do. A personal favorite was their performance of “Flannigan’s Ball,” which featured Spider Stacey of The Pogues and the mighty Ronnie Drew on vocals on the record. It still maintained its intensity when sung live by only Ken Casey and Al Barr, Dropkick’s usual mouth pieces. I have to admit though, while the band was still as tight as ever, other than the new stuff there really wasn’t anything else, well, NEW about their performance. While some bands manage to keep themselves consistently relevant and entertaining performance after performance, I’ve found that after a while (a.k.a. four shows over the course of two years), Dropkick kinda become slightly stagnant. Given my stance as a New England exile in Montreal, I’ve often equated Dropkick shows with a sense of “going home again.” However, much like actually going home, it does get boring after a while. Although there certainly were highs (which were very high) during the performance, the lows were also incredibly low.

But in the end none of that really matters because after three performances they finally got around to playing “Tessie,” which is enough to make the night a resounding success in this Red Sox fan’s head.

Go Sox.

Tune in to The Kids Are So-So with Josh every Tuesday from 2pm - 4pm