Curious about what's going on around town this weekend? Need some suggestions where to rock, dance, or krump in the Valley of the Sun?
Don't fret: These are our Five Shows to See This Weekend.
After meeting at the hoity-toity Providence art school RISD in 1994, Lightning Bolt's Brian Chippendale and Brian Gibson wasted no time paving the way for future noise bands to follow in their scrambled footsteps. The bass-and-drums duo has become known for their unconventional live sets almost as much as their semi-self-indulgent, but welcomingly prolonged improv in the middle of songs.
Nearly two decades later, the band still surprises and intrigues via off-stage performances and other wild antics. Combining crazy creativity with an innate ability to keep audiences oblivious to their next move, the Lightning Bolt show will likely get attendees talking through the next work week about what they saw. However, what keeps fans of the New England group glued to their tunes is their potently energetic jams, though the highly distorted vocals tend to render all of their lyrics incomprehensible, which makes live sing-alongs pretty difficult.
Which shouldn't matter at the Trunk Space, where Lighting Bolt and locals Sleep Money and Gay Kiss will likely render the place a loud mess - so no one is going to hear you anyway. -- Heather Hoch
One doesn't simply listen to Angerfist. In fact, hearing the filthy hardcore house produced by the hockey mask-clad Dutchman is more akin to a gory auditory assault on your ears, where relentless waves of murky distortion and high-pitched sirens and atonal pound the cochlea in excess of 300 BPM.
Its also good music to stomp around to, which your likely to see in abundance during Angerfist's headlining set at the Fear and Loathing Music Festival on Friday, August 31, at Club Red, 2155 East University Drive in Tempe. An extensive lineup of likeminded practitioners of harder-edged electronica will also perform on two different stages, including NecroFlesh and the other brutal beatsmiths of Darksiderz.
Attendees can also revel in the complextro and acid house of Tempe's Skull Kids and high-energy EDM from more than a dozen local DJs and producers. -- Benjamin Leatherman
Both Susan Tedeschi and Derek Trucks had solid, long-running solo careers when they decided to form a band together. That they'd been married almost 10 years made the decision somewhat easier, but in a fickle world of music consumerism, it's never really easy to start over.
Beginning with a blues base--as was the case with their solo bands, bolstered by Trucks time in the Allman Brothers and as part of Eric Clapton's band--the couple kept building on their sound until the band became an 11-piece ensemble that flows like water on groove-laden undercurrents filled with flowery horn blooms and sunny slide guitar solos.
Above it all, Tedeschi's voice channels Bonnie Raitt, Janis Joplin, and Bessie Smith all at once. The Tedeschi Trucks Band was an immediate success with their debut album, Revelator, earning a Grammy Award for Best Blues Album. (Ironically, as solo artists, both were nominated in the same blues category in 1999; neither won.)
But Revelator was really just a jumping off point for a band on the cusp of discovering its true synergy. As dazzling as the album was, in concert the band pushed their sound to include free-form improvisation over the blues, soul and southern jam tracks that filled each set.
Up on the Sun caught up with Derek Trucks backstage at the Verizon Theatre in Grand Prairie, Texas, just before soundcheck, to talk about forming the new band, onstage revelations, and taking his kids, eight and ten years old, on tour all summer.
Up on the Sun: It seemed inevitable that, considering your musical backgrounds, you and Susan would one day have a band together. You both had successful solo careers going, so why was the decision made to join forces?
Derek Trucks: It was in the back of our minds for a long time, but I felt like we had young kids and we had bands that were fully rolling along that we had a lot of work left to do with. But there was a time where everything started lining up. It was like, if we were every going to do it, now would be the time. I felt like after 16 years of my solo group I was ready to change it up a little bit anyways musically with a fresh start. You know, I started that band when I was 14-years-old and been doing it nonstop until 30. That's a solid run; a big chunk of my life. I felt like I'd shed a skin and try something else. Susan was kind of in the same place. -- Glenn BurnSilver
Dillon Francis gets down. Earlier this month he "leaked" a fake tour rider, featuring the kind of items necessary for his kind of party: A blow up doll; a stuffed piñata; a framed photo of any action star from 1985-2005.
That's some goofy shit, but par for the course for Francis. From the fake rider, to super imposing his face on cat pictures, to trolling Twitter conversations with other big name DJs, he's got a knack for attention-grabbing stunts. This, combined with his habit of donning a suite and pumping out seriously popular bass music has drawn comparisons to Diplo, the Mad Decent label boss who helped make Francis popular. Both men share a tremendous work ethic and celebrity personalities.
Francis' YouTube channel is populated with videos that portray him as a funny, delusional Jody Hill character, with eccentric jokes like his fake promo video about and Electric Daisy Carnival in Alaska. (In the clip, Francis simply points to reindeer over grimey dubstep sounds). But the music's no joke. The Los Angeles-born and based producer rides a wobbly line between moombahton, dubstep and pop (in that order). His 808s kick harder than anyone's. His habit of leading light poppy melodies off a cliff into massive bone-crushing bass drops means that his music is unique, and difficult to corner in an EDM world where it's hard to avoid being bogged down in one genre. -- Chris Piel
There are two sides to electronic composer Scott Hansen. First, there's his vintage-inspired, sun-bleached graphic design work as ISO50. Then, there's his ambient chillwave project Tycho, named after the 16th-century Danish alchemist famed for his accurate work in astronomy. Like Tycho Brahe, Hansen is incredibly precise in his otherworldly and celestial music. Last year's Dive saw Hansen moving away from a sentimental Boards of Canada sound and toward a more oceanic dream state.
In a phone interview, Hansen spoke to New Times about the future of IDM, his fetish for analog sound, and creating from the ground up.
New Times: The bulk of your music is made using analog instruments, giving it an organic aura. Why do you think remaining analog is important?
Scott Hansen: I don't think it's important necessarily . . . If [vintage analog synthesizer] Mono/Poly was a digital synth and it sounded the same, I might be using it.
In general, analog [equipment] has a depth and a warmth that you don't get necessarily with the pristine converters they include in the newer digital synths . . . Also, older analog synthesizers didn't have patch memory. There's something nice about having every single control presented on the face. Not being able to save your patches is kinda interesting because you're always getting a slightly different sound. And when it comes time to find a new sound, there's a lot more experimentation involved . . . It's starting from the ground up. There's something interesting about that whole process. -- Troy Farah
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