The Midwest Gaming Classic: A review

For people of a certain age, the video game arcade brings back a flood of memories. Playing on a home console with your best buddies brings back even more. The Midwest Gaming Classic, held this weekend in Brookfield, Wis., capitalized on those memories by providing convention goers with all of the good times that go along with gaming.

The Midwest Gaming Classic (MGC) isn't a trade show like E3 or PAX, but rather a shrine to an age of gaming that, though it's years behind us, paradoxically, it never really left. 

For $30, you can play all the games your wrists and eyes can possibly take. I entered through the arcade hall, which was aptly named. There were hundreds of pinball tables and arcade cabinets, all set to free play, and also all for sale providing you have the space and at least $500 (or more) burning a hole in your pocket. 

The pinball tables ranged from the old-timey (50s and 60s) to the thoroughly modern, including a recently released Wrestlemania table, and a Wizard of Oz table that had a display that looked like nothing I've ever seen before. I could've spent all day playing pinball, but that is largely a solitary pursuit. I went with my general life arch-nemesis, so we sought out games to play against each other. 

There were lots of those. 

We played NBA Jam, NFL Blitz, X-Men vs. Capcom (fighting game), and Simpsons Bowling, and all of them were fun, and more importantly, competitive. (Well, not Blitz. Somebody ragequit. Won't say who.)

Your author, after narrowly winning at NBA Jam

If one-player games are more your thing, MGC featured those too. I personally played OutRun, Centipede, and Ms. Pac Man. Burger Time and Qbert were there too. 

You might be thinking that $30 is a fair price for that -- and it kind of is, if only because Galloping Ghost  is 90 minutes away. But there was more to it than the arcade games. 

The other draw for us was the Video Game Museum room, which highlighted games from the 1970s-1990s. There were some Pong games that we honestly couldn't figure out how to work. There were some 80s-era PCs set up where you could play Oregon Trail and Number Munchers. Still more PCs were running Doom and Duke Nukem 3D.

Of course, we ignored PC gaming entirely because there was a murderers' row of classic console games that demanded our attention. 

Super Mario Kart! Tecmo Super Bowl! Contra! NBA Jam TE! Double Dragon! We played 'em all. In fact, we played more than that as the room couldn't actually contain everything. I played an Atari Jaguar game (Primal Rage -- I know, not an exclusive) for the first time. Other, modern fighting games were featured in the same hallway, which were mostly beyond me. 

Basically, it was the biggest, best basement rec room you could ever possibly be in. 

* * * * 

A gigantic tent outside the hotel housed even more gaming goodness.

Most of this tent was devoted to vendors from all over the midwest peddling their gaming wares. No matter what console you were a fan of back in the day (or are still), someone, somewhere in the tent had a console or a game for you to ogle. 

Prices seemed a little outrageous for games produced 20+ years ago, but then again people in their thirties supposedly have good-paying jobs that allow them to blow money on nostalgia. (I played my part: I bought an Atari 2600 game -- Spider Fighter -- for a dollar.) In addition to the games, other vendors sold gaming and otherwise nerd-related goods like Lego sets and t-shirts. One of the more interesting things we saw were old arcade cabinet game signs, which looked good enough on their own to hang on your wall. 

Aside from the commerce, the tent also featured a couple of air hockey tables (pretty cool), live music (bearable, but could do without), and a tabletop gaming section. Tabletop gaming (or just plain board games, I suppose) isn't really my thing, but the fact that you could go up to their library of games, pull one off the shelf, and sit down and play with your friends is kind of awesome. 

* * * * 

When it comes to gaming, individual accomplishments are great -- finally beating Mario 3 or going undefeated in Madden -- but being in the same room and trash talking your buddies after destroying them in NFL Blitz (or teaming up in a co-op game like TMNT 2 on the NES) is so much better. 

The games at MGC are certainly paramount to the experience, but without the people it would just be a bunch of flickering screens, playing to no one. I can't say I was surprised at all by the diversity of the crowd, seeing as though video gaming is universal in some sense. All types of people were there: fat neckbeards (because of course there were) and old men and young children and gamer girls -- every stereotype of gamer girl was there in full effect, for better and for worse -- all of them enjoying the games and more importantly the camaraderie of gaming together. That is the sort of thing worth more than the price of admission. 

(okay, that and making Ken ragequit after going up 26-0 in NFL Blitz. That was the best.)

I was on the radio once

As you know or might not know, I was on the radio once upon a time in college. To get on the air, you had to take the Radio Practicum class. You were given a two-hour shift where you played the college/indie rock programmed by the music director. It was almost like a real commercial radio station. 

One of the conditions of the class was that you had to tape yourself on air. Every time something was to be announced - a song title, the weather, a PSA - it had to be recorded so it could be critiqued by the professor (also GM of the station) and all of the other students. 

I still happen to have a cassette tape of that from April 2001. I also happen to have a tape deck and the correct cable to hook it up to the line-in jack on my computer. I also happen to be really fucking bored on a Saturday night...

It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, having only been on the air once a week for two months or so. The first PSA reading features a bonus cough. 





Almost 18 months later I had the opportunity to have my own show with my own music, Saturday nights (technically Sunday mornings) from 12AM-2AM. I called the show Total Radio Anarchy. (It was not.)

My voice definitely became more confident, and being as I knew the music better, I had more to say about it. However, I sound like I'm on speed. (I was not on speed.) 

I feel like this is the last (latest) surviving tape of my radio show. The more I was on the air, the less I felt I needed to record myself every week. I wasn't actually that good, mind you, I just knew deep down inside that no one was listening anyways. 



Because I know you're dying to know what I played on a radio show 12 years ago... here's the setlist from the first hour:

Pink Floyd - Time
Everclear - The Swing
Bloodhound Gang - Lift Your Head Up High (And Blow Your Brains Out)
Prodigy - Smack My Bitch Up
Disturbed - Liberate
Dr. Dre - Ackrite
Radiohead - True Love Waits
Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody
Local H - Keep Your Girlfriend
Blink-182 - All The Small Things
Dashboard Confessional - Remember to Breathe
Wasp - Animal (Fuck Like a Beast)

Personally, I think playing commercial music on a college radio station was kind of subversive. But that's just me. 

Concert Review: Sturgill Simpson, 12/5/14

See that $12.50 price? Unless Sturgill Simspon is the second coming of Fugazi, that price is going up next time. 

Last time Sturgill Simpson played Turner Hall Ballroom maybe 100 people showed up. This time – through word of mouth, a handful of national television appearances, and (according to a Facebook post) even a busload of people that came down from Appleton – the place was pretty much sold out. Last time the boys in the band had to sell merch out of a cardboard box after the show. This time a table was set up before the show started. And last time, Sturgill Simpson had just released the fantastic Metamodern Sounds in Country Music to some minor critical hype and nothing else. This time, he was just nominated for a Grammy.

One might think something would change with all that extra fame, but one would be wrong in thinking that.

“I don't even know what Americana is,” Sturgill said between songs, acknowledging his Grammy nomination, “but I'll take that over country any fuckin' day!” The crowd roared and hooted and hollered in approval. It is hard to pinpoint Sturgill's sound – and neither Americana nor Country do it proper justice – but 70s Outlaw Country is a good place to start. Taking their cues from Waylon, Willie, and the boys, Sturgill Simpson and his awesome backing band delivered a scorching 95-minute set that had everything from straight-up country (“Long White Line”), to blistering honky-tonk (“Railroad of Sin”) to spirituals (“A Little Light”).

If that wasn't enough, the band veered dangerously close to Southern Rock in general and Allman Brothers Band in particular on a couple of numbers wherein the boys just jammed out. (This lends credence to calling Simpson's music progressive country, but I digress.) This was highlighted by lead guitarist Laur Joamets, who, for lack of better words, can just flat out fucking play. He had no use for rock-star theatrics, though I don't think anyone would've minded a few windmills or epic guitar faces. Instead, we were treated to intricate picking that he made look effortless. It was a joy to watch.

If you wanted to dance, you could – the rhythm section was locked in all night. If you wanted to lose yourself in Simpson's deep, metaphorically complex, and oftentimes dark lyrics (pretty much the entirety of “Living the Dream”) you could do that too. I think this is part of what brought in such a diverse crowd. It was the sort of show where Chuck Taylors mingled with cowboy boots, and there was plaid and flannel as far as the eye could see. And sure, some of those Johnny-and-Jill-come-latelies talked over the slow songs, like the gorgeous sounding, would-be modern country radio hit “The Promise.” But that can be overlooked. The music managed to cut through all of that and hit you right in the heart and brain, all full of good time vibes and stoned thoughts.

Sturgill Simpson and his band (they need a name, I think) left it all on the stage on Friday night. Next time they come to town it'll be a bigger stage, and I have no doubts that they'll have no trouble with that one, either.

Concert Review: Lorde - 9/26/14 - BMO Harris Pavilion

(concerts in the 21st century, amirite?!)

Remember the adage “Dance like nobody's watching?”

On Friday night, before 5,000 or so people, Lorde did precisely that. “Twitchy” is a word I heard describing her show before the performance at the BMO Harris Pavilion. I would say that was spot on, as she danced and swayed and zigged and zagged through 15 solid songs. (Seriously: I cannot get enough of her dancing. She was a cross between Marilyn Manson in “TheBeautiful People” video  (around the 2:54 mark specifically) and Beavis and Butt-head, well, anytime they rocked out.)

Of course, her stage moves weren't the only notable thing about the show.

Lorde was backed up by only two musicians; a keyboardist that looked suspiciously like “Weird Al” Yankovic and a drummer that did not. This served her well as the minimalist instrumentation brought the focus to her voice, which sounded fantastic. Furthermore, it was definitely live, unlike a lot of her her pop star peers.

'Peer' is both a good and a bad word to describe Ms. Yelich-O'Connor as related to other pop stars. On the one hand she has the moves and the mannerisms down. She apparently went to the Mick Foley School of Pandering as she mentioned how much she liked Milwaukee over and over and over again. Cheap pops (applause, for the non-wrestling fanatics) abounded. On the other hand her lyrics are, if not totally deep man at the very least are more thoughtful than what passes as pop music these days. When she sang “I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air” I could sympathize. When she sang “Hey, it’s all cool, I still like hotels, but I think that'll change,” as on “Still Sane,” a song about her newfound fame, I realized this is a girl with her head on straight.

Visually, the show was a stunner. Different songs found Lorde bathed in blues and reds and greys with outfits to match. A few numbers near the end featured these weird smoke bubbles, which led to my wife remarking “I could watch this all day!” Finally, after “Team,” cannons shot out confetti featuring a logo with Lorde's likeness on it.

The music itself was mostly spot-on as far as sounding like the record. It was easy to settle into the steady groove of “Tennis Court,” and other songs followed the same suit. She covered a couple of tunes: the banging “Flashing Lights” by Kanye West, and an effervescent take on Bon Iver's “Heavenly Father.” One of the set highlights came near the end, with an extended/remixed version of “Team.” It was already the most energetic cut from the Pure Heroine LP, but live the backing band jammed out amid synthesized guitar squall, which just washed over me to the point where I could lose myself in the beautiful noise.

Strangely, the Grammy-winning “Royals” was the weakest song of the night. It managed to sound more minimalist than it did on record, and just fell flat. Aside from an admittedly sweet but otherwise yammering (as if a teenager can talk any other way) 10-minute long monologue, that was the only misstep of the night.

I'll admit that I nearly left disappointed because Lorde didn't sing “A World Alone,” but she saved the best for last. It put an exclamation point on an excellent 80-minute set. Through all the shrieking teenage girls, the cell phone illumination, the spazzy dancing, and the confessional lyrics – the kind of stuff that might make one (specifically a 32-year-old male) feel like an outsider – the music brought everyone together. It didn't matter whether you came to the music by losing yourself in it via headphones, or by hearing the latest single on the radio. Lorde might have been singing about “dancing in this world alone,” but on this night every person in the place was dancing with 5,000 of their closest friends. It was proof of the power of pop music, and it was joyous.  

Top 10 Albums of 2013 (and a bunch of other stuff)

Last year at this time I wanted to write about how the process, the experience of music has changed. I did, along with my top ten of 2012... but the next day I decided everything I wrote was too influenced by drunken-ness (I published at 2:30 am, if I remember) so I ditched the whole thing.

I am going to salvage the opening because it still rings true. 

The way we listen to music has changed drastically since I started seriously listening to it over 15 years ago. Not to go all old-man on you, but back in those heady days of 1996, the only feasible way to listen to music aside from radio was to buy it on compact disc. If the album was one good single and mostly filler, it went on the shelf. But because that album cost me $15, it more than likely went back in the CD player at some point in a desperate search to find some deep cuts to justify my purchase.

Sometimes it worked (Adore by the Smashing Pumpkins, for instance), sometimes it didn’t. Either way, it sounds a lot like the Brewers trying to get a few more games out of a well past his prime Jeff Suppan -- a stubborn refusal to admit defeat. But it did force us (or at least me) to give albums that weren’t instantly ear-catchers a chance.

The 1999-2000 is where music listening changed forever for neither the first nor the last time. Napster debuted and brought mp3 downloading out from the Internet’s seedy underbelly into the mainstream. It was nice to download whatever you wanted whenever you wanted at no cost (except to the artists, their labels, etc.) but single songs were still king. Whether it was lackluster download speeds or bad CD rips or both, albums were still hard to come by.

One might think iTunes changed all that, but not so much. The 99-cents per song model still ensured you could download the cream of the crop, filler be damned.

Of course, as the Internet is wont to do, it made iTunes and the like moot with the emergence of BitTorrent. Coupled with the explosion of mainstream broadband internet and cheap storage, whole album downloading became a thing. Finding new music was never easier.

Or was it?

Streaming music came on the scene first with Rhapsody, then evolved into the “freemium” service Spotify. For the first time, legally, pretty much any album you ever wanted to hear is at your fingertips. No searching for the torrent with the most seeds. No worrying about the RIAA. No effort required.

Which brings me to my long-winded point.

There is no shortage of good music. It’s easier to find it than at any point in history. But it is also the most disposable it has ever been.

If I punch up an album on Spotify, as I did with many releases this year, and it doesn’t immediately grab me, I can just let it go, never to be heard again. It doesn’t exist on a shelf nor on my hard drive. Music is just out there in the ether now. And I found it quite difficult to find ten albums that really grabbed me, that really made me want to listen again and again. And it’s not because music is shitty. It’s because I don’t have to.

I’m a believer in too much of a good thing -- and in the case of determining the best albums of a given year, I think Spotify, Pandora, YouTube, and the like make it very difficult to do so.

(The only thing different is that this year yielded more albums worth talking about. I don't know if it was because it was a better year in music, or if I just got over the inherent disposability of music in out modern age.)

Without boring you any further: the best music of 2013.

Three female country artists and albums that need to be highlighted: Caitlin Rose (The Stand-in), Ashley Monroe (Like A Rose), and Kacey Musgraves (Same Trailer, Different Park)

Caitlin Rose's album was probably the most musically adventurous (which admittedly isn't saying much), Ashley Monroe might be the most rambunctious (“Weed Instead of Roses”) and Kacey Musgraves showed that modern country ladies can be insightful and even sexually tolerant (“Follow Your Arrow”). They all go against the stereotype of current country music being nothing more than pop music with twang. They all have something to say and all are worth your time if you enjoy such things.

These three ladies may not be forever remembered like known-on-a-first-name basis luminaries Patsy, Loretta, or Dolly, but they sure make suitable 21^st century stand-ins for the real thing.

Pithy statements about singles I loved:

Phosphorescent – "Song for Zula" – Really fucking pretty and heartbreaking

Paul McCartney – "New" – He's still got it, as if you doubted him (and if you did, fuck you)

Kanye West – "Black Skinhead" – Kanye's a shithead, but his music is interesting.

Haim – "Days Are Gone" – Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, and three Urban Outfitters-looking babes sisters? I'm in. (this one might be my #2 single of the year)

10. Night Birds – Born to Die in Suburbia

Befitting of an album only half an hour in length, I will not offer many words. It's 80's-influenced punk that's not too snotty and not too political. But it does its lyrical themes do include life the suburbs (duh), religion (“New Cults”) and, somewhat perfectly, Mick Foley (“Maimed for the Masses”). After discovering it – thanks AV Club! – I couldn't stop listening to it for days.

Standout track: "Maimed for the Masses"

09. Nine Inch Nails – Hesitation Marks

Don't call it a comeback, because Trent Reznor has mostly taken many years between albums anyways. But Hesitation Marks is the first NIN album in six years, and it is, well, distinctly Trent Reznor. He's always known his way around a hook, and I don't think this record is any different but if you're looking for the searing guitars of Broken or the utter despair of The Downward Spiral you might want to look elsewhere.

But you'd be missing out on an album that yes, doesn't blow you away with noise... it burbles under the surface. It twitches its way into your head. The first half of the album's name is apt; it's not one you listen to for instant gratification. That said, singles “Copy of A” and “Came Back Haunted” are fine entries into the NIN canon.

Standout track: "Copy of A"

08. Arcade Fire – Reflektor

I won't beat around the bush; the marketing behind this album was fucking stupid. That preceding sentence shouldn't matter at all, of course, but it was the sort of thing that made me hate being an Arcade Fire fan. It's not like they weren't pretentious enough, then they went and pulled this shit. (link to dress code)

Then I heard the album. I didn't like it.

But I spent more time with it and it revealed itself to me. Like all double studio albums, Reflektor is messy and sprawling and whatever other adjectives you want to throw at it. (Personally I like the second disc better; its songs seem more realized). But what's more important is that Arcade Fire still has something to say, whether it's about This Modern Life (title track), death (standout “Afterlife”), or sex (“Porno”). Much like Hesitation Marks, it's not a record that you'll fall in love with upon first listen, but it's quite rewarding if you give it a few chances.

Standout track: "Afterlife"

07. Milk Carton Kids – The Ash & Clay

If you haven't been paying attention to popular music, you wouldn't know that folk music is pretty big. You've got The Avett Brothers and Mumford & Sons and The Lumineers and on and on and on.

Milk Carton Kids do it up right with intricate guitar work and achingly beautiful harmonies. (not hurting them is the fact that vocally, they sound like vintage Simon and Garfunkel) The title track is one of my most listened to songs of the year.

It's somewhat odd that I don't have much more to say about an album I like so much. It's the type of record that works well when you want something pleasant in the background, but won't fail you when you want to sink into your headphones.

Standout track: "The Ash & Clay"

06. Black Sabbath – 13

I liked 13 when I first heard it, but I did have some minor quibbles. Ozzy sounded actually dead instead of ethereal as he did on Sabbath't best work; The riffs, though awesome, seemed recycled; and Brad Wilk is no Bill Ward.

But I listened to the album more and more, and appreciated it for what it was: masters of their chosen genre showing everyone how it's done. 13 seemed like it stole some pages from Load-era Metallica's book, but the more I think about it, 70's-era Black Sabbath always had a groove (or at least an audible bass line) to it – so if you want to hate on late-period Metallica, hate on Black Sabbath because from the beginning they proved that metal could be both punishing and catchy. (I would say almost danceable, but I don't want to be crucified)

13 might not be anything new, but it's everything that Sabbath ever was: Tony Iommi's encycopedia of riffs (again, yes, not all original), Ozzy's distinctive vocals (yeah, I know I shit on them before), even a moody, acoustic tune. For a swan song, a capstone on a fantastic career, and, yes, music for young people made by 60+ year-old men, you can't ask for much more, can you?

Standout track: "Damaged Soul"

05. Volcano Choir – Repave

I have about as much to say about an album at #5 on my list as you might expect. I love all of Justin Vernon's work as Bon Iver; his first collaboration with Collections of Colonies of Bees as Volcano Choir less so.

But Repave is something different. It is less weird and experimental and more concerned with making great, enjoyable songs. It is joyous folk rock. You might not believe this, but Vernon's lyrics actually kind of sort of make sense this time around! If you're not a fan of Bon Iver, this record won't change your mind. I can admit that. But if you're on the fence and want something that is pretty and accessible yet not totally radio-friendly, Repave will fill that void.

Standout Track: "Acetate"

04. Eminem – Marshall Mathers LP2

First things first: If you've never cared for Eminem, MMLP2 is not going to change your mind. The beats are mostly the same, save for the EDM-inspired album centerpiece “Rap God,” and the lyrics are full of misogny, homophobia, celebrity takedowns, and shock-jock posturing. It is also overstuffed at 78 minutes and could easily lose at least a few songs. (“The Monster,” “Stronger Than I Was,” and “So Much Better,” I'm looking at you.)

But the remaining 13 songs... – not counting the pointless “Parking Lot” skit – goddamn. MMLP2 is Eminem's most fun album in years. His lyrical acrobatics are on full display, but also his cleverness conceptually speaking. The 7-plus minute opening opus “Bad Guy” is from the point of view of Stan's – yes, that Stan – little brother. Typing it out, it doesn't seem all that clever... but give it a listen and find out for yourself.

Not that Eminem was trying to, but he managed to endear himself to me by sampling several classic rock songs – Billy Squier's “The Stroke” (“Berzerk”), The Zombies' “Time of the Season” (“Rhyme or Reason”), Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders' “Game of Love” (“Love Game,” which features hotshot next big thing Kendrick Lamar), and, finally, Joe Walsh's “Life's Been Good” on my favorite track “So Far...” Not only that, but there are plenty of callbacks to the original Marshall Mathers LP.

MMLP2 isn't really anything different, but it has all the elements that made Eminem great to begin with. 

Standout Track: "So Far"

03. Lorde – Pure Heroine

“Don't you think that it's boring how people talk” is how Lorde's debut album begins. Hell of an opening line if you ask me, considering Lorde – a.k.a. Ella Yelich-O'Connor – is a 17-year old girl. The chilly, minimalist instrumentation and hip-hop-inspired beats set the mood and tone for Lorde's worldview, which seems to be wise beyond her years. She rejects hip-hop and celebrity – and really, consumerist – culture on smash hit “Royals,” is scared of getting old on “Ribs” and deals with her impending fame in a level-headed way on “Still Sane.” All of these songs are sung in a sultry, breathy, – and yes – even sexy voice. (Yeah, I'll have a seat over there.) More intriguing than this debut LP is... what comes next? As she grows both musically and personally, it looks as though the sky's the limit for Lorde.

Standout Track: "A World Alone"

02. Daft Punk – Random Access Memories

I never cared all that much for Daft Punk. I remember when “Around the World” came out in '97 and thinking “what the fuck is this?” “One More Time” was a decent single, but I never bothered with the album it was from. Daft Punk could have dropped off the face of the earth, and I wouldn't have noticed.

Then the insane marketing campaign happened and I heard “Get Lucky” and I had to see what all the fuss was about. I was glad I did.

Daft Punk created an analog album for a digital age. Instead of following the trends and creating an album on iPad, they looked back at their influences and made a disc both retro and modern.

It's full of different sounds, from the disco-funk of “Get Lucky” and “Lose Yourself to Dance” to the yacht rock of “Fragments of Time” to the crazy fun house mirror atmosphere of “Touch” (which stars Paul Williams of “Rainbow Connection” fame).

But even with the guest stars – and there are many – Random Access Memories still manages to sound like something Daft Punk would create. Certainly it looks back to the 1970's as it was an album produced at great cost, and if you're the dismissive sort you could just call it a disco album and leave it at that. But that would be doing the 70+ minutes of RAM a disservice. It is a surprisingly human album from a couple of guys in robot helmets. I am glad, just this once, that I followed the hype.

Standout Track: "Touch"

01. Vampire Weekend – Modern Vampires of the City

If the first three Vampire Weekend records are considered as a trilogy – and lead singer Ezra Koenig considers it as such – than (this is Koenig speaking again, and I agree) Modern Vampires of the City is the afterparty. This is where some serious shit goes down. (or at least is talked about)

Vampires is worldly – check the Jamaican percussion on opener “Obvious Bicycle” (and damn me for not being able to find the review that clued me into this fact) – without being precious. Koenig still wears his education on his sleeve – I've never heard the phrase “richer than Croesus” before, but then again I went to a public high school and a state university, so maybe I'm just dumb) – but they seem more informed by actually living life itself than by academia.

And that's what Modern Vampires of the City is about: life. It talks about God and faith or lack thereof (“Ya Hey” and “Unbelievers”) and relationships (“Hannah Hunt”), and mortality (“Diane Young”) with all the wisdom of a, well, late-twenty-early-thirtysomething, which is exactly what I am. Koenig has seen enough to be cynical but not enough to be completely hopeless.

And then there's “Step,” my song of the year. There's one line in it, “Wisdom's a gift, but you'd trade it for youth” that made my year. Why? Because we're supposed to grow older and wiser with every passing year and like it, but with few exceptions I disagree with that.

In my younger days I'd much more appreciate music that hits me in the gut. Modern Vampires is an album that hits me in the heart and in the head (much like Arcade Fire's The Suburbs before it) and that's why it's my album of the year.

Standout Track: "Step"

Review: Paul McCartney at Miller Park

Paul McCartney is one of the last of a dying breed of rock n’ rollers that can truly connect generations of fans. The 44,000 or so people that filled Miller Park on a sweltering Tuesday night proved that; parents brought their small children, grown children brought their parents. They were all there to witness, in the flesh, one of the greatest musicians and songwriters of all time. None of them would leave disappointed.

At about 8:45, Sir Paul, sporting a knee-length overcoat, strolled out to the stage with his iconic Hofner “Violin” bass. The band started with “Eight Days A Week,” a perfect opener. It wasn’t the most rollicking of songs but it felt so comfortable, so familiar. Throughout the night it became apparent that McCartney’s music is comfort food for the ears and the soul. It’s not difficult or challenging, but it hits all the right spots in all the right ways.

Being the Beatles dork I am, I daydreamed about the songs he might play, and came away thinking I’d probably be more surprised by what he didn’t play than what he did. Naturally, Paul proved me wrong.

Yes, he did “Maybe I’m Amazed” and it was fantastic and possibly my favorite performance of the night. But to keep things interesting for himself as well as the audience, he and the band pulled out some deep cuts -- as much as Beatles songs can be considered deep cuts, anyways -- from the Sgt. Pepper album. “Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite!” and “Lovely Rita.” Both were new to the setlist and both were awesome.

McCartney didn’t forget about his fellow fallen Beatles, either. He performed “Here Today,” a song about a conversation he wished he’d had with John Lennon. He also told a story about a ukulele given to him by George Harrison, and then used that ukulele to start off Harrison’s beautiful “Something.” Ringo, though he’s still alive, got the shaft. Poor Ringo.

There were times during the night where it was just Paul and an acoustic guitar. The easy country shuffle of “I’ve Just Seen A Face” wasn’t made to fill baseball stadiums, but it still sounded good. “Blackbird” was poignant as it ever was. “Yesterday” was “Yesterday,” which is to say it was phenomenal.

And despite everything I’ve just described, that’s only half of it. Over the course of two hours and forty-five minutes, the 71-year old McCartney and his great backing band didn’t let up. Hit after hit just kept coming and coming. His voice was nearly perfect. The last 10 songs were a tour de force of McCartney’s songwriting greatness.

Starting with “Let It Be,” which went into the pyrotechnic spectacle of “Live and Let Die,” which was followed by the communal sing-along of “Hey Jude.” All of this was before the two encores. The encores consisted of “Day Tripper,” “Hi Hi Hi’” (the weakest of the songs), “Get Back,” “Yesterday.” After that song Paul said “You guys look like you’re still ready to rock!” and the proceeded to kick into “Helter Skelter,” a performance which absolutely slayed. (Pun intended)

McCartney left us with the closing movement from Abbey Road’s second side medley (“Golden Slumbers”/”Carry That Weight”/”The End”) and a couplet that is as true now as it was when he wrote it: “And in the end, the love you take / Is equal to the love you make.”

As the crowd dispersed into the hot Milwaukee night, with guitar solos ringing in my head and earworm choruses threatening to keep me up well into the night, I knew it was a concert I and most of the other concertgoers would not soon forget.

Concert Review: They Might Be Giants

See if you can find us in this picture

Never having been to Turner Hall Ballroom and not being the biggest fan of They Might Be Giants, I thought going in that it would, at the very least, be an interesting experience. In this regard I was not wrong.

The people at the show, stereotypically speaking, were exactly what one would expect. Many fedoras were spotted. Some guys rocked a classic look, while others – dude with the silver sparkly fedora and red-star-shaped Elton John sunglasses, I'm looking at you – tried way to hard to be noticed. Thick black-rimmed glasses were also out in full force, myself included. Don't be fooled, though, as the crowd was as diverse as it was interesting. Schlubby middle aged dudes (including one with an exquisite skullet), mousy, plain women, teenagers and their parents, and relatively normal-looking couples were all well-represented.

But enough about the people.

“Joyous” is probably too strong of a word to describe the atmosphere of the sold-out Turner Hall, but the vibes in the room were definitely happy. Even though I didn't always know what was going on, I often found myself with a smile on my face, particularly during the between-song banter of primary Giants John Flansburgh and John Linnell.

The music of They Might Be Giants falls under the banner of “alternative,” comprising of pop, rock, jazz, surf punk?...yeah, I'll call it surf punk, and a bunch of other sounds. Various songs of the night found John Linnell busting out a bass clarinet and an accordion.

Of course, none of this matters if the songs aren't any good. Though perhaps not memorable for a newbie, I found them catchy and enjoyable enough. Certainly the fanboys – and yes, I mean fanBOYS – ate the show up, exuberantly dancing and pogoing to every song.

The set highlight for me was their well-known cover of “Istanbul (Not Constantinople).” It opened with a classical acoustic guitar solo and ended with an extended jam by the whole band. Also striking to me was that TMBG's aesthetic – lyrically and musically – seemed to be kindred spirits with “Weird Al” Yankovic. Perhaps not as demented as Yankovic's best work – at least as presented here – TMBG still shares his quirky, goofy, nerdy sense of humor. This helped me appreciate their music that much more.

The best response of the night was saved for their one and only genuine hit song, “Birdhouse In Your Soul.” It was certainly the song I was waiting for, but I thought the preceding 70 minutes were worth the wait and the ensuing 20 minutes were just as good. I was genuinely surprised that I enjoyed the show as much for a band I wasn't entirely familiar with.

****

Openers Moon Hooch deserve their own paragraph. As might be expected opening for TMBG, they had their own sound, consisting of two saxophonists and a drummer. Though I found it kind of tiring after 10 minutes or so, it was still hard to deny the toe-tapping nature of their music, especially when they went to a quiet-loud dynamic which made me want to rock out. Either way, the crowd gave them quite the ovation when the set was over and the band seemed honestly taken aback by the reception. It was one of those moments when you realize why you love watching live music.