Email
PrintKris Kristofferson performs at the Mabee Center
A look at what’s happening in the local music scene.
A Lull
This Chicago trio brings its unique style of music to Soundpony Lounge. Before starting in 2006 in Todd Miller’s basement with an Apple iBook G4 and ProTools, they spent countless hours driving around Chicago at night listening to Tortoise and Buddy Guy while heading to shows at the Fireside Bowl and The Metro.
Their sound has developed into a layered, percussion-driven (guitars are drums, too) production with a dash of dreaminess to boot. They are reminiscent of Fleet Foxes or Blitzen Trapper but without the Ambien.
After graduating from their basement to a studio and from ProTools to Garage Band, they took their act to the music fans of Chicago. And Chicago said it was good.
After countless shows at Reggie’s, Schubas, Empty Bottle and Abbey Pub, they toured the East Coast. And the East Coast said it was good.
After their show at Soundpony, you will say it was great.
Feb. 11. Soundpony, 423 N. Main St.
Kris Kristofferson
Here is a Valentine’s Day conundrum, wrapped in a canoodle of an enigm
a: Do you take your significant other for an incredible night of music from one of America’s least-appreciated-yet-most-significant artists?
Or do you avoid the Mabee Center on Valentine’s Day like ground zero for your looming breakup because you cannot compete with a Rhodes Scholar, boxer, actor, philosopher, writer, Army Ranger, helicopter pilot, singer, songwriter and friend of Muhammad Ali and The Dude (Jeff Bridges). He also broke into the viper pit that is the music business by landing a helicopter in Johnny Cash’s garden to hand him some tapes of his music.
You and your dozen flowered plant stems do not have a chance.
While mainstream acknowledgement has somewhat eluded Kristofferson, the country-and-western music crowd has elected him to just about any hall of fame they can find and reveres him as one of the few left from when a good song did not require backup dancers or explosives.
He has written more songs than there are words in this column, but a few of the better known are: “Me and Bobby McGee” (originally recorded by Roger Miller but brought to the attention of most by Janis Joplin, a former girlfriend), “Sunday Morning Coming Down” (Ray Stevens, Johnny Cash — one of the songs he handed Cash in his garden) and “Help Me Make it Through the Night” (written on an oil platform off the Louisiana coast during a stint as a commercial helicopter pilot). His songs illuminate a life that, early on, saw more valleys than peaks.
At his performance, you may get some of the humor that got him through the valleys, to wit: “I think between us, Bill Clinton and I have settled any lingering myths about the brilliance of Rhodes Scholars.”
I wish there were a ticket to grab a beer with him after the show.
(If you have a neck brace, put it on now. We are about to make an abrupt musical genre change.)
Feb. 14. Mabee Center, 7777 S. Lewis Ave.
RJD2
A great man once said, “Two turntables and a microphone.”
A greater man went out and did it.
RJD2 (born Ramble John Krohn) takes everything from Latino, soul, hip hop and rock, along with blips, bleeps, bass and brass, to take over your brain to do his bidding on the dance floor.
Making music since 1993, the Philadelphia-based musician has perfected the nascent musical art of “Turntablism.” His recent release, “Colossus,” dropped in January. This show will feature both past and present releases from someone whose influences are listed as Capcom (maker of the “Resident Evil” video games), Midway (“Space Invaders” and “Pacman”), Williams (“Pong,” “Defender,” “Robotron” and “Joust”) and Nintendo.
It’s like interviewing the person who invented the potato to cook french fries at McDonald’s. Just go see how it’s done.
Feb. 15. Cain’s Ballroom, 423 N. Main St.
Old 97’s
This show will go down as one of those shows that begs the question, “If the Cain’s did not exist, would this band even exist?”
With Rhett Miller, Ken Bethea, Murry Hammond and Philip Peeples, this Dallas band fits Old Man Brady’s garage like a double-parked Model T — that happens to play honky-tonk, alt-country songs at “11.”
Like Wilco, Elvis Costello and countless other “can’t miss” shows, the Old 97’s are built to play the Cain’s.
The band is touring in support of “Blame it on Gravity,” its seventh release for New West Records, which very well might be the Old 97’s best effort. It’s a rousing, guitar-laden bar room brawl in your head full of drums and Stratocasters.
The only thing this show will lack is a wall of chicken wire between the band and the rabid crowd.
(Note: This author in no way condones throwing anything at the band besides “unmentionables” and party favors.)
Feb. 27. Cain’s Ballroom, 423 N. Main St.
See you at the shows.
