The Spin

Yoga rock When the YEAH YEAH YEAHS took the stage at War Memorial on Monday, they looked like an odd bunch: two superheroes, one regular dude and a goth. Opener IMAAD WASIF, playing second guitar, looked ready for a space launch in his bright orange jumpsuit, KAREN O sported a glittery silver jumper armed with a magician’s trove of scarves, hoods and head wraps; and guitarist NICK ZINNER, in head-to-toe black, could have been a member of the Jesus and Mary Chain. Karen O is known for her electrifying performances, and the show proved she knew how to slink, slither, swivel, stretch and downward facing dog with the best of ’em. Her yoga rock, for all its Gumby-like affectations, was riveting. A quick glance away from her magnetic pull found Wasif playing his overdriven acoustic like an electric, mostly crouched on the ground with his back to the audience. Zinner spazzed occasionally, while drummer BRIAN CHASE held the sticks in the traditional jazz grip, splashing all over the cymbals and scooping out beats. “Gold Lion,” with its throwback to “No New Tale to Tell” acoustic strum by Love and Rockets, came earlier than we expected, as did the love-obsessed “Maps” off Fever to Tell, and they banged through them, teased us with hooks and then slinked back into their cave of frenetic, buoyant punk. For all O’s purported sexual charisma onstage, something about her is entirely asexual, making her bendy romps and striptease moves—even deep-throating the mic—more like performance art than high seduction. The encore, “Poor Song,” which brought O out in, yes, a cape, required a handful of false starts and assistance from a gaggle of girls up front who were called on to help her with the lyrics. It was something fierce—not every band can make a thousand-plus-seater feel like you’re getting rocked at a house party. Odelay We were a little cranky by the time we arrived at City Hall last Friday—it was cold out, parking was a disaster (since when do they charge to park on that crappy dirt patch!?) and we were worried about the sound in City Hall, often a bit muddy for our taste. But BECK, oh Beck, how you wowed us, won us over and put a smile upon our face. Dressed like a dapper ’70s prom date—red bow tie and all—the not-so-young-man knows how to put on a show. He played all the songs everyone wanted to hear (“Loser” really took us back), was visually dynamic (a smart way of saying members of the band wore bear suits at one point) and even employed his very own bespectacled spirit leader who spent the show bounding around the stage rallying the masses. But the true tell of Beck’s talent came when he played a short acoustic set—while his band enjoyed dinner and drinks onstage—that was nothing short of wonderful. P.S.: The Spin unfortunately missed out on his post-show set at Sambuca (bested by Byrd again!). P.P.S.: Kudos to local boy MATT MAHAFFEY for some great guitar work. Tazered love The Spin finds it difficult to recap last Wednesday night’s TWO GALLANTS show at The Basement without wondering how it would feel to get tazered (just like on LOST!). In Houston, just 48 short hours after this San Francisco duo wowed us on Eighth Avenue, they were getting tackled onstage by a cop, and frontman Adam Stephens was being tazered twice in the stomach. As we established last week, Mike Grimes must offer favors (cookies, sensual massages?) to his neighbors, because we’ve never heard a peep about noise complaints or seen an officer of the law wielding an electric weapon on a 14-year-old who just happened to get in the way. (Suddenly that head-butting incident isn’t looking so bad.) But back to the show: the crowd was robust and enthusiastic when we rolled in partway through opener LANGHORNE SLIM’s set. The wily troubadour had an easy wordiness reminiscent of Dylan, and his full band helped round out his vintage, countrified sound. Playing almost side-by-side but functioning as one hard-rocking entity, Two Gallants created a rich, visceral, foot-tapping sound with a hard-charging punk aesthetic. The two-piece buzz doesn’t seem to be fading—The White Stripes, The Black Keys, JEFF—perhaps because the format has such a raw immediacy. But this duo’s most intoxicating asset is a sense of dynamics that reminded us why going to see live music is so damned exhilarating in the first place. Soul survivor “I’ve never done an in-store before, and I think we need to get closer to the people,” HOWARD TATE told a packed house at Grimey’s last Thursday night. In great voice, and backed by producer STEVE WEISBERGon piano, the soul singer performed selections from his latest record. His version of Randy Newman’s “Louisiana 1927” gave the song a contemporary spin, with Tate referencing President Bush and “a little fat man” who turned out to be named Dick, but Tate’s between-song commentary transfixed the crowd. He spoke movingly about his triumph over drug addiction and ended the set with the 1966 tune “Ain’t Nobody Home.” “I came through Nashville for years with that song,” he said. In those days, he appeared here as part of package tours that included the likes of Joe Tex. His in-store showed Tate can still get close to the people in any venue. Jazz fireworks Attending pianist CHICK COREA and vibraphonist GARY BURTON’S concert Friday night at Schermerhorn Symphony Center was like standing directly under a Roman candle. Burton’s vibes were over-mic’ed, while amplification for Corea’s piano seemed to be set on low. So given Burton’s blazing virtuosity (he’s like the Art Tatum of the vibraphone), you sometimes felt scorched by the vibraphone’s sparkle. Oh, but what a way to go. With Burton’s blistering renditions of tunes from the album Native Sense, and with Corea’s bopping account of his tribute song “Bud Powell,” Nashville heard jazz at its technical best and most inspired. Props to Nashville Symphony Orchestra Pres ALAN VALENTINE for introducing great jazz to the city’s new concert hall. Road rage Tuesday night, SWEARING AT MOTORISTS will be at the Exit/In, opening for COLD WAR KIDS and filming for a planned DVD. (We hear some East Nashville rocker types will be involved in the production.) If you’ve never seen DAVE DOUGHMAN jump, kick and slash his way around the stage while delivering his intense, personal rock ’n’ roll songs, then you’ve been missing out—and it may be a while before the band play again in the States, with Doughman having moved recently to Germany. The Motorists also have a new album, available for free online during the tour, and recorded in a Berlin subway tunnel—a gorgeous recording (the natural reverb sounds amazing) and a good introduction. Hail! Hail! Rock ’n’ Roll Hey you sweet little rock ’n’ rollers: CHUCK BERRY turned 80 this week, and Nashville’s awesome THE TWENTY-EIGHTS (so named for his seminal greatest-hits comp The Great 28) will blow out the candles on his cake with their riotous annual Berry birthday blowout Saturday at The Basement. This year’s lineup features guitarists BRENT LITTLE and BOB BRITT, bassist DAVE ROE, drummer TOMMY MEYER and keyboardist JACK IRWIN rockin’ that pi-yahn-o. Scene “Spread the Love” podcaster COLLIN WADE MONK opens. Anything you want, we got it right here in the U.S.A. Email info about after-show surprise gigs thatThe Rage doesn’t know about, predictions on when GNR will actually play in town (our guess: Fall 2012) or pictures of you inyour favorite metallic jumper to thespin@nashvillescene.com. For exclusive photos from Beck and Howard Tate visit us at nashvillescene.com.