Thursday, August 25
Tower of Power
Buster’s; 899 Manchester. 8:30 P.M.
When bassists discuss their favorite players, the usual names are brought up: Victor Wooten, Jaco, James Jamerson, Stanley Clarke, William Murderface…every bass player keeps a list. But one name turns up on just about every list: when the conversation comes around to Rocco Prestia, players in the know just smile and shake their heads, ’cause there’s nothing left to say. Prestia is a mutha.
A founding member of Tower of Power (est. 1968), Prestia’s greatness alone might have been enough to vault Tower of Power into the ranks of the best soul bands to ever shake it on down, but ToP, then and now again, also boasted a drummer every bit the bassist’s equal. David Garibaldi, it is widely known, inspires awe in other drummers. Together, Prestia and Garibaldi form perhaps the funkiest rhythm section ever assembled.
And then there are the horns: iconic lines, unmistakable sound. A benchmark, like the Dirty Dozen, or Maceo and the J.B.’s.
As with many bands of a certain age, members have come and gone, especially Garibaldi, without whom—no disrespect to those who have tried to fill his shoes—the chicken ain’t quite as greasy. But this is the good lineup. Giddyup, giddyup, hi ho yeah.
Friday, August 26
Groove Manifesto with Baja Yetis
Cosmic Charlie’s; 388 Woodland. 9 P.M.
Actually this Groove Manifesto isn’t the first Groove Manifesto I’ve known. In a former life, when I resided in the rainy, coffee-drenched Pacific Northwest, I was acquainted with a young funk-rock quartet called the same thing, led by a lovely, voluptuous keyboardist named Devon, who wore long, slinky evening gowns on stage, and who set many a red-blooded American man’s heart (and loins) aflutter.
Now, it’s unlikely that anyone in Lexington’s own Groove Manifesto, also, coincidentally, a young funk-rock quartet, will be wearing a long, slinky evening gown on stage, but what they will be doing is releasing, at long last, a CD of their original music. Whether your heart or loins are affected by this event is entirely up to you.
Saturday, August 27
Cains Rage
The Attic; 2628 Richmond Rd. 9 P.M.
As longtime NoC readers may know, I am a confirmed metalhead. But, like even the most devoted headbangers, I think a lot of metal sucks, as badly played metal often sounds comparably worse than badly played music of other genres. For instance, crappy folk-pop music, of the sort that perpetually turns up in commercials for Apple products and hybrid vehicles, is obnoxious, but crappy metal is brutal, and not in the good way.
Which is why I was skeptical, after perusing The Attic’s show listings and discovering this show, that the newly reformed Cains Rage was gonna be any good. Sure, their credentials seemed to be in order: played on a bill with Dio, influenced by Pantera…they name-checked all the right acts. But these guys hadn’t played in years, and rarely do metal artists get better with age.
So it was with low expectations that I streamed “Straight to the Bone” from the app on their Facebook page. But guess what? These guys are metal as fuck. Holy shit. Who knew?
Well, we know now. Welcome back, Cains Rage.
Tuesday, August 30
Patrick McNeese
Natasha’s; 112 Esplanade. 9 P.M.
My powers of description, both written and oral, are severely limited, owing to the fact that I suffer from hypermasculinity. I suspect that some chromosomal abnormality is to blame, though I’ve never actually had that checked. But all the usual symptoms are there: brutish physical strength, Byronic virility, male pattern baldness—those sorts of things. In fact, it was only with Helen Keller-like effort that I ever learned to put together a sentence in English, as my genetic inclination is to speak in a series of unintelligible grunts.
So it’s difficult for me to write about, to describe certain forms of music, particularly those forms which employ anything resembling sensitivity or grace. Slayer, for example, I’m good with, but Sade, not so much.
What does all this mean to you? Well, this fellow name of Patrick McNeese is playing a show, and you might or might like to attend, right? As such, my duty, in theory, is to write a bit about Mr. McNeese’s music, what’s interesting about it, what’s compelling, and maybe compare it to similar musics, in the hope of striking a chord with you, the reader. But when I listen to his songs, I sort of realize in the abstract that they’re pretty great, but then I look within myself for the vocabulary to describe what I’m hearing, and there’s just nothing.
What’s happening is that McNeese’s music is asking me to access the part of the brain that controls emotions such as affection, empathy, and hope, whereas I’m only able to feel lust, hostility, and despair. That said, I also think, based on a lifetime of observations of human behavior, that if you go to this show you will probably wind up making love with someone later that night. Which is more or less the opposite of the effect of a Slayer show.
So maybe that’s it, then: Patrick McNeese is the opposite of Slayer. Does that help?
Thursday, September 1
Lipstick Pistol
Cheapside; 131 Cheapside. 9 P.M.
Over the past couple of years, these guys have become possibly the tightest cover band in town, which is saying something, because Lexington has more than a handful of good ones.
Saturday, September 3
Born Cross Eyed
Cosmic Charlie’s; 388 Woodland. 9 P.M.
It occurs to me that in all the time we’ve been publishing this newspaper thing, not once have we mentioned Born Cross Eyed. Well, now’s the time, what with the days getting a little cooler, twilight lasting just a little longer, and the harvest coming in. It’s a good time to get mellow, ain’t it?
—Buck Edwards
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