Sweden’s gift to retro rock The Soundtrack Of Our Lives leveled the El Rey last Friday in a surprise return to North America. They played the Troubadour in 2009 and usually don’t grace this continent for an eternity of another two years. That’s seven-hundred-and-thirty days, people. So this tour was a rare and delectible delicacy of an epicurean treat. Seriously, if this tour were food, it would be a black Périgord truffle.

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Now based in New York, noise rock duo Pete Nolan (drums, percussion) and Elisa Ambrogio (guitar, vocals) recently became a trio, adding John Shaw (bass) to the lineup. The band recently performed in an Estonian occult film and bobbed around in the Dead Sea. This interview by Linda Rapka.

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Where a twentysomething white kid from almost-suburban small town Eagle Rock got the soul of an old Delta blues player is anyone’s guess. Kenneth Pattengale displayed his love of traditional American music combining elements of blues, Tom Waits, and good ol’ fashioned country & western at Hotel Café Nov. 25.

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It’s no secret I have a bias when it comes to Jason Falkner. As webmistress of the powerpop master’s unofficial website for the past eight years and having attended nearly all of his L.A. shows within that span, I consider myself something of a Falkner connoisseur. It’s a harrowing task having to review one of your favorite artists, because you actually have more of a propensity against them. There’s no wiggle room; I know full well when Jason is in top form, and when he’s not.

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One’s favorite Beatle says a lot about a person. John fans are intellectuals, Paul represents the beautiful people, Ringo lovers go with the flow, and those who favor George lean toward the mystic and spiritual. An ardent Beatles buff and devout Hari fan, I have found these Beatle-based characterizations to be remarkably accurate, and the audience and performers at the Tribute to George Harrison at Spaceland Sept. 12 proved no exceptions.

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The band sounded so good and brought such a euphoric new dimension to the tracks that I couldn’t even hate Loud Drunk Guy behind me. He drowned out Jarv’s between-song quips with declarative bellowing. (“Stella makes you get in a FIGHT!” “Come ON, Jar-vis!” “Homewrecker!!!”) But anyone who sings along to Jarvis song—every single one, mind you—with such passion has to be a good guy, right?

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Possessing a mystique and attitude far greater than her slight stature suggests, PJ carried the show with her dominating vocals, which were accentuated by irreverent movements clearly powered by the thralls of performance ecstasy. Everything about the stage set-up informed the audience that we were witnessing more than a mere rock show—instead, an event of theatric proportions. Similarly dressed from head to toe in sophisticated black, the band fused together into a singular unit. Each song was a world of its own, a point driven home by curtain-call-closing-lights-out after each and every song, followed by bows from each member of the band.

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Though Sweden’s economy is in as much trouble as ours, TSOOL wasn’t bashful about releasing their latest effort Communion—a discussion of the corporate mass psychosis that has slowly taken over the world—as an epic 90-minute double-CD. Ebbot, Ian and Mattias chat with Linda Rapka about their album.

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They started strong with the bombastic “Shiller” off their latest album, LP3, and never let up. The audience was almost as interesting as the show itself—mistaking the Palladium for Coachella Valley, a mysterious dude with an endless supply of water bottles wandered through the crowd squirting liquid into the gaping mouths of people apparently unconcerned with what else might be contained within the free water.

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zach hill

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