It’s hard not to get paranoid when you’re an elected official.
First there was the August catnapping that turned out not to be a catnapping. (Cats who take naps don’t make me paranoid, hence the use of the compound word. Nevertheless, they’re always watching. Don’t forget that.) But then came September’s disastrous outdoor screening of The Wizard of Oz and those particularly potent poppies planted purposely in front of the screen.
You could chalk that one up to garden-variety stupidity on my part since I’m the one who ordered the poppies, but let the records and tapes and whatnot show that I’ve never tried to hide that stupidity from my constituents, nor have I ever been smart enough to know where to hide it in the first place. But what if the poppies were switched out by one of my opponents in the upcoming mayoral race to make me look bad?
Generally it’s not my style to ask you to buy an album. I tell you what I think, and then you make up your own mind. That’s the way it should be. This time, however, I am going to make an exception in the case of the Philadelphia band Slo-Mo. The reason is simply this; I want to see this band live. For a number of years, in which the band has produced three wonderful albums, I have wanted to see Slo-Mo live. The problem is, jobs, family responsibilities, and other commitments have kept the band from playing outside of Eastern Pennsylvania. Yes, I could take the 90 minute drive to Philadelphia to see them play, but I just haven’t been able to work that out. Besides, I want you to see them too. I want them to come to your city. So I figure if we all go out and buy their new album, Gimme What You Got, they’ll have enough money to tour the world. And even if they don’t, it’s a really good album.
At the core of Slo-Mo is the somewhat unlikely partnership of Mike ‘Slo-Mo’ Brenner, a virtuoso steel guitar player, and a rapper named Mic Wrecka. Together with their band, including vocalist Susan Rosetti, they make some of the more interesting sounds you’re likely to hear these days. For such a talented musician, Brenner has had a tendency to keep his playing understated in the past, allowing the band to create a nice funky, somewhat mellow groove as a back drop for Mic Wrecka’s imaginative, uplifting messages. This time out, Brenner makes it known from the opening track, “Skanky”, that he’s a force to be reckoned with as he unleashes the most torrid playing he’s ever recorded. “County” is another song in this musical vein as Brenner lays down a wicked riff over the martial drumbeat of Mark Schreiber, and Wrecka describes the drama of lockup. (more…)
Hey, y’all. Matthew McConaughey here, fillin’ in for Mr. Mayor of Bootleg City this week. Cassanova gave me a jingle-jangle the other day and said, “Matty Mac, do me a solid and make a celebrity cameo in the BLC this week so I can cut out early for Labor Day. Surf, sand, sun, and sobriety — I’m all over it this weekend. Except for that last part, brother, knowwhatI’msayin’? Hahaha! Cool. Later.” (I did use the words “Labor Day.” The rest is from the mind of Matthew. —Ed.)
Hard to believe it’s been over a year since I last talked to y’all on Popdoze so Bobby C. could have another week off. I’m a big fan of Sugar Water(Stop it, you’re embarrassing me! —Ed.), so I was sad to see it move from entree to after-dinner mint on Bobby’s menu when he became mayor of Bootleg City last fall. But we all have to make sacrifices when we take on new responsibilities, don’t we?
Take me, for example — my son, Levi, is almost 14 months old. Can y’all believe that? Crazy. I can’t even remember life before he was born. Part of that’s because of the weed, but life really does change once you’re a daddy. And my wife, Camila, is expecting our second one by the end of the year.
Whoa, did I just say “wife”? Back up, y’all — that was a slip of the tongue. Camila’s my partner. My main squeeze. My colleague in baby raisin’. But not my wife. Neither of us are into that right now. Maybe one day, but we’re not like normal people — we don’t need the tax breaks, know what I mean? When you’re rich, money has no effect on love.
For this special edition of Bootleg City, I’m spotlighting the top 17 songs of the ’90s, a decade we can all officially start nostalgicizing on January 1, 2010. Until then we’re in limbo, if you’ll pardon the expression — the untimely deaths of Michael Jackson and JohnHughes in the past six weeks have put a damper on the last blast of ’80s nostalgia in this decade. But life goes on, of course, as does pop culture’s never-ending look backward.
WXPN is the listener sponsored Triple A radio station associated with the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, and one of the finest stations of its kind in the United States. The station is known for treating its listeners as family, and toward that end WXPN has been throwing a summer weekend festival since 1994. In the beginning, it was called the Singer Songwriter Weekend, and it was held at Penns Landing, a beautiful outdoor venue right on the Delaware River in Philadelphia. A few years back, pending construction closed Penns Landing. The event’s name was changed to the XPoNential Music Festival, and moved across the river to Wiggins Park in Camden, NJ, an equally beautiful riverfront venue.
There are two stages at the festival, the main or River Stage, and the smaller Marina Stage. Beginning on Friday night, popular artists from the station’s playlist alternate sets through Sunday evening. I was only able to attend the Saturday festivities, and since most of the artists that I really wanted to see were playing on the River Stage, that’s where I focused my attention for the day. People gathered in front of the stage in varying numbers, while on the half-bowl hillside facing the stage, hundreds were set up with their beach chairs.
Between Jersey shore traffic on the Garden State Parkway, and Six Flags Great Adventure traffic on the N.J. Turnpike, the trip which would normally take me not more than 90 minutes clocked in at nearly twice that. I was happy to arrive just in time to see the first band of the day that I really had some interest in. Brooklyn’s young Yeasayer played a compelling set that blended electronica, psych, and tribal rhythms. They opened the set with two promising songs from their upcoming new album. Guitarist Anand Wilder is handling a few more lead vocal chores now, and I enjoyed his more pop-oriented songs. (more…)
My brief tenure as a resident of Philadelphia, from 1990 to ‘92, coincided with a period of remarkable growth for the Hard Rock Cafe chain of restaurants. The chain’s cofounders, Isaac Tigrett and Peter Morton, had chosen a divide-and-conquer strategy for expanding their domain beyond the rock capitals of London, NYC and L.A., and during the late ‘80s and early ’90s HRCs popped up in Chicago, Houston, Orlando, Washington, D.C., and elsewhere.
But not in Philadelphia, where local boosters predictably commenced a round of wailing and gnashing of teeth upon the opening of the DC restaurant in 1990. Soon enough there appeared, in a nondescript shopping strip near the Delaware River waterfront, the Philly Rock Bar & Grill, a short-order joint that dedicated itself to the city’s own rock ’n’ roll heritage. The place sported memorabilia related to Philly greats including Dick Clark (don’t forget, American Bandstand started there), Bobby Rydell, Kenny Gamble & Leon Huff and their stable of Philly-soul artists, Hall & Oates, the Hooters, and more.
It wasn’t a bad place, exactly, but it certainly seemed second-rate compared to your basic Hard Rock Cafe. Here, of course, is the point where I deploy this morsel of pop-culture minutiae as a metaphor for Philadelphia in general – and where I piss off untold numbers of friends and readers (not to mention Popdose colleagues) who have called Philly home. If Phillies fans can boo their MVP mercilessly and Eagles fans can pelt Santa with snowballs, I can only imagine what I’m in for. Bring it on!
When Gwen and I were choosing among graduate-school options during the spring of 1990, we fretted about the impending student-loan debt only slightly more than we worried about losing the cosmopolitan life we imagined we were living in DC at the time. So it was with a mixture of bemusement and horror that we viewed the University of Pennsylvania’s admissions brochures, which couldn’t get more than a sentence or two into their sales pitch for Philadelphia before noting that the city is “midway between the financial and political capitals of New York and Washington, DC.” Really? Your best selling point is that I can hop on a train and get somewhere else in a hurry? Really?(more…)
Hard to believe it’s been over a year since I last 
My brief tenure as a resident of Philadelphia, from 1990 to ‘92, coincided with a period of remarkable growth for the Hard Rock Cafe chain of restaurants. The chain’s cofounders, Isaac Tigrett and Peter Morton, had chosen a divide-and-conquer strategy for expanding their domain beyond the rock capitals of London, NYC and L.A., and during the late ‘80s and early ’90s HRCs popped up in Chicago, Houston, Orlando, Washington, D.C., and elsewhere.
When Gwen and I were choosing among graduate-school options during the spring of 1990, we fretted about the impending student-loan debt only slightly more than we worried about losing the cosmopolitan life we imagined we were living in DC at the time. So it was with a mixture of bemusement and horror that we viewed the University of Pennsylvania’s admissions brochures, which couldn’t get more than a sentence or two into their sales pitch for Philadelphia before noting that the city is “midway between the financial and political capitals of New York and Washington, DC.” Really? Your best selling point is that I can hop on a train and get somewhere else in a hurry? Really? 