Happier times in Happy Valley

As regular readers of this blog may know, Roustabout! is one of the most reliable forms of entertainment in all of State College. As a senior music reporter, it’s difficult for me to admit that I didn't go to my first one until last Friday night.

Sometimes, I wasn’t fond of the bands that were playing. Sometimes, plans to go to the event would fall through at the last minute. There are tons of excuses, but none of them are very good, as I learned this past weekend.

After two mostly forgettable bands finished their respective sets, Oppenheimer, a two-piece from Belfast, Northern Ireland, took the Chronic Town stage. The band put on one of the better concerts I’ve seen in my time in State College.

Oppenheimer is a synth-pop pair with music somewhere between the Postal Service and Mates of State on the cheeriness meter and a vocalist who sort of sounds like Kevin Shields. Their recorded material is pretty awesome, but their live show is something to be experienced.

As someone who spends a lot of time complaining about how there’s nothing fun to do in State College and about how Penn State has a terrible music scene, the show was a breath of fresh air.

But the fun doesn’t stop there. This coming weekend is the free Asylum-organized show in the Pollock Rec Room, headlined by Zolof the Rock and Roll Destroyer. The following weekend will have a Roustabout! featuring Loney, Dear, a band I saw over spring break who rocked my figurative socks. And before you know it, it’ll be Movin’ On time. The State College music scene is beginning to blossom.

It's no New York City

The unfortunate thing about a college town's arts scene is that when the students leave for break, so does the scene. But I couldn't let nine days of vacation go by without getting my fix of live entertainment, so I went a-road trippin'.

With the accompaniment of a fellow Collegianaire, I left my native Philadelphia for New York City. It's not that Philadelphia's scene is bad; it's anything but. This was the result of a sick twist of fate that had one of my favorite bands, of Montreal, playing Philadelphia the night before I came home for spring break. Fortunately, I lucked into a ticket to their sold-out Saturday night show at Irving Plaza in the Big Apple.

Aside from the show, New York obviously had a lot to offer. When there's that much diversity and that many people in a city, there's usually going to be a lot of options for entertainment. We glimpsed amateur painters and new styles before stumbling upon a couple acrobatic entertainers in Washington Square Park named Tic and Tac. The guys cracked jokes with the audience members and performed some awesome stunts to the sounds of an accompanying drummer.

But the highlight of my break came later that night when of Montreal took the stage. The band showcased songs from each of its last three albums, keeping the concert feeling like a dance party. And the band never shied away from stage antics, having one member dress as Darth Vader and employing the aid of a figurative dancer who shoved squashed bananas down his unitard. Bizarre? Yes. But also shockingly delightful.

Apologies to State College, but it's no New York City. But then again, maybe fruit-loving dancers aren't your cup of tea, either.

Get a Clue

It's gotten to the middle of the semester now, and that means the money that I carefully budgeted to get me through the whole semester is completely gone. Of course, Penn State offers the luxury of a number of free arts events on campus. The most consistently enjoyable of those events, I've found, are the No Refund Theatre productions at the Forum every weekend.

Last week, NRT took on an adaptation of the film version of Clue, which I've seen roughly 300 times on Comedy Central in the past 10 years, give or take a couple hundred. Needless to say, the novelty of the occasion piqued my interest.

The production of Clue was especially impressive because the direction and timing had to be perfect. In the film, the director had the luxury of using camera angles to conceal certain characters who were off committing their murders. But in the stage performance, everyone had to be in the right place at the right time. I don't know how NRT pulled it off, but using every inch of the Forum's free space, they did it.

NRT never fails to impress me, no matter how well the performances go. A theatre troupe made up entirely of students shouldn't be as good at what they do as NRT is. To balance a full-time class schedule with the commitment to putting on a great show is commendable. And though the shows aren't always perfect, I can't fault them for a mistake here or there. Besides, what's the point in complaining about a free show put on by people who work for nothing?

NRT has eight more shows playing this semester, so if your cash supply is running low like mine was last weekend, it's definitely worth the walk to the Forum. The shows are downright terrific.

Homesick for a stomach ache

As a person who has spent his entire life living a 10-minute drive from Philadelphia, I like cheesesteaks. A lot. They’re not something I need on a daily or even weekly basis, but I do get cravings now and again, and I’ve yet to find anything in State College that satisfies my hunger.

Granted, I haven’t yet tried every rendition of a cheesesteak in the area, but because I’m naïve and easily forgiving, I’ve tried a lot of them—and I’ve cursed myself each time for giving State College yet another chance to let me down.

It’s not a complicated sandwich to prepare—it’s literally just meat and cheese and bread. But for some reason, you just can’t get a good one anywhere that’s more than a short drive from Philly. Whatever it is about the cheesesteak, they do something in Philadelphia that they don’t do anywhere else. But we’re not that far from there—only a few hours. Beyond that, there should be enough Philadelphian transplants in State College that someone could competently make one.

I mean, Tastykakes are widely available here, and a Rita’s Water Ice just opened up on Beaver Ave., so why can’t anybody make me a dang cheesesteak?

Philadelphia natives may argue over the merits of Geno’s and Pat’s and Jim’s and a thousand other places, but while all these vendors have their own idiosyncrasies, they’re all infinitely better than anything you can get here.

That’s not the point though—anyone could tell you the best of Philly is better than anywhere else.

My point as that, even at its worst, you can walk into any hole in the wall within an hour of center city, and you can find yourself a steak sandwich better than anything anywhere else.

This doesn’t make any sense.

I can’t stress enough the fact that it’s just meat and cheese and bread. And it’s not like the preparation is some kind of secret: most places actually let you watch them as they make it.

This is all part of a bigger, upsetting trend, though, and that is State College’s lack of culinary identity. Yeah, we have ice cream, and it’s awesome, but what beyond that? I’m not calling for any sort of fine dining establishment; I just want somewhere good to eat. Pizza, wings and Chinese food can only go so far. While I’m here, there are about 600 different food items I pine for, but when I’m home, there’s really nothing food-wise that I miss about Penn State.

Rock the Casbah

I got my first taste of a big bar show in State College on Monday night at Lulu's Nightspot when the Lemonheads came to town. The show was pretty good overall, but more importantly, Lulu's has got a pretty sweet set-up.

I don't know how successful live music can be in a college town where the vast majority of students don't care about live music. But if Lulu's can book some shows that appeal to the more musically inclined among us, it could turn out to be a great venue. The sound in the place was really good, even when The Lemonheads got into their more distorted punk numbers. The drums came through especially well, which was fortunate because the drumming, in my opinion, was the most consistent thing about the show.

The only thing I wondered about Monday's show is why it was a 21+ show. In a college town, does it really make sense to cut out the majority of your potential audience? I'm not sure if it's possible with the way the bars are set up, but a bracelet system would be ideal for the venue. That way you keep your hands clean of furnishing alcohol to minors, and meanwhile all the 21+ among the crowd can still drunkenly heckle Evan Dando.

The crowd on Monday was middling in size, but other than that, Lulu's was a great place to see a show. The decor is pretty sweet and the sound, lights and stage were all up to snuff. I can't wait to see how the place handles an all-ages show next month when The Hold Steady comes to town.

The Big Screen

The thing I've liked most about the State Theatre has little to do with a new venue for the performing arts, either national or local. I'm excited by those things, of course, but they're still trying to find their identity and really get the ball rolling.

What I've enjoyed the most so far is the theater aspect, the screening of old movies. I don't know if everyone feels the same way, or has stopped to think about it in these terms, but seeing classic films with an audience is really a worthwhile experience.

Some might say that it's silly to spend money on a $7 ticket for a movie that's been in syndication on cable for years, or easily available for rental. But watching a movie on a dinky TV set by yourself or with a friend or two is nothing at all.

I used to get jealous whenever I'd talk to friends who lived in big cities who talked about theaters screening older films. Of course it's got appeal: the Star Wars triology was successfully given a new theatrical run around ten years ago, and Disney's brought back their old films.

For example, I've seen Clockwork Orange many times, and even dressed up as the droog leader Alex for Halloween. I couldn't wait to plop down a few bucks for a chance to see it in a theater. Crowd reactions can change how you feel about a movie: you laugh at things you never considered funny, or feel the anticipation waiting to see the crowd's reaction to a big event.

But, of course, like all things local, that effect was diminished by a lack of interest: there were only a few dozen people there. I suppose it's ridiculous to expect a full house for a classic film, but I can't help but think if more people thought about the second chance afforded by a screening like that, I would have been in better company.

State Theatre Blues

This past Saturday, I had the pleasure of watching a fantastic singer and songwriter perform at the State Theatre. Country/folk singer Rodney Crowell played to an enthusiastic audience and put on a two-hour set that didn't drag for a second. But, as I found myself to be the youngest person in the crowd, the show seemed to go unnoticed by the primary readership of a music blog like this.

Low student turnout could be because of unfamiliarity with Crowell. However, I've noticed a trend with State Theatre shows: They're bringing in noted acts, just not in genres targeted towards the student-age crowd. I'm sure most serious music fans I know would have enjoyed the set if they'd heard it; it's getting them in the door that's the problem.

Of course, it's hard to think of what can be done on that end. You can't force-feed someone a genre they don't like. For Crowell, getting most people past "country" is hard enough (though he calls himself folk-rock now, something I attempted to play up in my preview of the show.)

Ticket prices could also be a factor: Crowell's show was more than $20, like most other shows there, and some are more than $40. I don't know if there's a practical way to lower prices, but it's a huge detriment to thrifty college kids who are reluctant to throw down that money for a band they want to see, let alone something you have to convince them to check out.

It's doubly unfortunate, because if the State Theatre continues having lukewarm reactions to these shows, they're unlikely to experiment with bringing in different acts that might draw in this demographic. I just hope we're not stuck in a stalemate where they continue booking interesting shows that go overlooked.

The Mother of Invention

Since we've added a new blog this semester (Inside the Music World), my colleague Dustin Pangonis and I will switch off as we see fit. Posting an entry here kind of feels like sitting in a seat that's long been occupied by someone else--at first it's uncomfortably warm, but hopefully I can become acclimated to the new environment.

Last week, Dustin wrote about the parity of the bands that play Roustabout! every week. While I can say there is a slight overload of britpop/indie-rock/post-punk/etc., there are a few good reasons for this. It all comes down to the bottom line. I would love to see a hip-hop act at a Roust, but I doubt that kind of show would sell many tickets. I'm sure there's enough of a hip-hop market in State College for that kind of show, but the crowd Roustabout! draws often has a lot of the same people coming back. I don't want to generalize, but I assume those people keep coming back because they know what they're getting from a Roust show. Booking a hip-hop act would involve weeks of promotion to get the word out to different groups of people. I might be pessimistic, but I don't think it'd be feasible.

It was funny Dustin should write that blog entry last week of all weeks. Just a day after he posted the blog, Roustabout! took a voyage into eclecticism. The original line-up for the show was a pair of Scranton-bred bands, Dr. Horsemachine and The Minor White. But when a couple members of Dr. Horsemachine had to back out of the show, a re-shuffling was in order. The Bullet Parade stepped in as a last-minute replacement, which--no offense to the band--wouldn't have solved Dustin's issues with Roust's lack of diversity.

But there was also another surprise--a member of fellow Roust band Okay Paddy (also from Scranton) joined an amalgamation of The Minor White and Dr. Horsemachine to make a new band. The spur-of-the-moment adjustment alone had me excited, but then I noticed a few quirks about the band: they played no electric instruments. And on top of that, one of the guys had a fiddle. They featured lots of improvisation in an alt-country style, and frankly, it was awesome. And I hope Roust organizer Jeff Van Fossan was paying attention, because the change-of-pace absolutely rocked the Darkhorse Tavern.

So much for a lack of variety.

About a Roustabout!

Something clicked with me at this past weekend's all-ages Roustabout! Mainstays' the Bullet Parade were bookended by the Disconnect and the Brother Kite, who I'd heard nothing but great things about. But I found myself doing something I used to think I'd never do: sit through a show, idly talking, daydreaming, and more or less tuning the band out. And then I realized that this is a habit I've also picked up at a few Darkhorse Rousts, too.

So what was the problem? Well, on the surface, it just wasn't the greatest show. The Brother Kite had good qualities, but the vocals were pretty rough, and the songs were samey. But the more I paid attention, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized the more overarching problem: most Roustabout! bands sound pretty much the same.

It seems weird to say, because I'm a Roustabout! fan and have seen some excellent shows. It's one of the most consistently good concert opportunities in State College. But that virtue of consistency is also a huge failing: I've never hated a Roust show, sure. But I've not often been blow away either, and I've been indifferent often.

The Roustabout! Web site uses the genres "Britpop, indie, garage rock, shoegaze, synth, '60s soul, new wave and psych-rock" as the most common types of bands there. Those last four are red herrings: they just mean you'll see a keyboard now and then. And the first four, though distinct most of the time, kind of merge into a steady 4/4, rough-vooiced, chugchugchug guitar pattern when those bands hit the Darkhorse. It's standard rock to drink to, the kind of stuff where you could keep your head bobbing between sets and still be in synch when the next band comes on.

Where's the adventure? How about a folk or blues guy? How about an experimental band? Hell, how about anything not guitar-based? I'd love to see a rap or dance or electronic based act at a Roustabout! I say this fully realizing that rock bands are going to be the most common, but I'd still rather see a bad act in a fresh genre than a month of typical indie rock bands. I always promised myself I'd never be one of those guys who goes to a show and just drinks and ignores it, but it seems more and more appealing as more bands run together.

To-do list

With the State Theatre newly opened and the new semester starting, it might be a good time to give an overview of some of the arts activities available here and give a little to-do list of things to check out.

-Check out a Roustabout! concert. If you're 21, you'll have plenty of chances to attend at the Darkhorse Tavern on Wednesdays. If you're under 21, keep an eye out for the occasional all-ages shows they do at the hookah lounge (itself freshly renamed Chronic Town.) Roustabouts typically highlight good local groups and draw some great Pennsylvania and national acts, as well, and it's one of the more regular opportunities to see concerts. There is also an all-ages show this Friday.

-Look into a No Refund Theatre show. This is another easy one, as they put on performances most weekends in the forum.

-See an Outlaws peformance, too. They do shows on Thursday nights in the arts building. It's student-written, so the shows have a different flavor from NRT. It's worth checking both groups out at least once.

-Catch a SOMA show. It's a multiple arts club, so it can involve anything from music to film to comedy to visual arts, so it's always different. It can also be a good opportunity to check out a field of art you might not otherwise look into.

-Visit the State Theatre, which also features a variety of events, from concerts to screenings of clssic films.

-Find art showing. Be it the art museum, a display in the HUB, an artist's exhibition, or something else, keep an eye out for articles about art displays and take a few minutes to see one of the.

These are just a few of the basic suggestions. If I'm making any point, it's that there are lots of things going on all the time, and plenty of opportunities to try something new. Keep your eyes open and don't be afraid to try something new and get a better idea of what PSU has to offer.

How to Write Hate Mail

If you ever read the Opinions page, you may have noticed that both myself and fellow music critic Kevin Doran get a lot of negative Letters to the Editor addressed to us. And, while I certainly appreciate the feedback, I've noticed that some of you don't really understand the proper way to address a music critic via letter, so I'm going to give some basic guidelines.

1.) Be sure to complain when a critic criticizes.
I often get letters calling me "biased," claiming I'm inserting my own opinion into my reviews and failing to be objective. I often get mixed-up when I'm called upon to review an album or concert and oftentimes even insert my own opinion on the work of art. It's easy for me to forget that I get sent to concerts with the job of being a parrot for public opinion and to give the fanboy with the band's posters all over his room a few inches in which I echo his sentiments. I get a little confused now and then and work under the impression that I'm supposed to be "reviewing" or "criticizing" a band when I write a "review" or act as a "critic." So, the first step of any successful hate mail is calling me out for inserting my own evaluation.

2.) Make sure to point out that we don't have record deals.
It's true, I am not the member of a famous rock band, so clearly I have no room to criticize other musicians if I can't do what they do. Now, you might be asking "But Dustin, why can Angels and Airwaves sing about world affairs and politics? Did Tom DeLonge get a degree in political science? Does Toby Keith have an automotive background that gives him a valid reason to support Ford trucks on-stage?" To which I reply: don't be silly. Artists don't need to have first-hand experience in whatever they give their opinion on. That's just music critics.

3.) If the fans liked it, it was quality work.
If a crowd cheers a lot or a lot of people buy a record, a critic should ignore all other factors and give it a glowing review. Under this new policy, my revised review of the Fergie album (Grade: A+) will debut in Friday's Arts in Review. Next semester, film and music reviews will be replaced by box office figures and Billboard charts, which are better barometers of quality than critics.

These are just a few tips to help you in your quest to write hate mail and keep critics like me on our toes. I'm looking forward to reading next semester's crop of letters, and let me know if there are any techniques I left out. Happy reading!

A Promising Weekend

Some interesting shows this past weekend. We'll go in reverse order this time, to bring up the highlight first.

Saturday, 12/2 - Psychedelic/Zaireeka Roustabout! at Tall Shiva Hookah Lounge

Headlining a Roustabout! show with a listening party for an album instead of a band wouldn't normally fly, but Zaireeka is an exception. The four-disc Flaming Lips album is meant to be played on four sets of speakers, with the idea that the tracks will never start at the same time and always synchronize differently. And you get a different experience depending on your relation to the speakers, so every listen will be different.

So, after a warm-up from some psychedelic bands (quick props to Goldenball for a great set,) the show was on. It took a few false starts to get the rhythm of four people working CD players down, but it was always funny to hear "Track one... track two... track four..." followed by a chorus of sighs and another go.

Describing the album is difficult and kind of beside the point. But it was a unique show, and showed the kind of creativity lacking in the arts scene in general. And people seemed to have a good time, though it would have been nice to see a few more people walk around and take advantage of the multiple sound sources that were set up.

Friday, 12/1 - SOMA Pop Art/Music Extravaganza at Dragon Chaser's Emporium

It's been a weak year for SOMA shows, both in terms of quality and failure to match the original aesthetic set last year. Friday's show, though not up to last year's standards, was still a step in the right direction. The club remembered that the "MA" stands for "Multiple Arts," and made an attempt to integrate art with the music. Unfortunately, the art was limited to a small selection and a few pieces of paper for the audience to draw on with Crayons, hidden in the corner.

The music faired a bit better. This Place is Haunted delivered a solid set, and out-of-towners Endless Mike and the Beagle Club stole the show. The band, which included tenish members, featured simple, pounding indie-pop with about five guys just bouncing around, banging tambourines and shouting along. It was loose, sloppy, fun, and unlike anything else I saw this year, which used to be something you could rely on from a SOMA show. The next band scared me off by butchering a Neutral Milk Hotel song and then launching into pop-punk, but it's still a step back in the right direction.

"I could be happy with less, I guess, if you told me that less is more."

Since part of my job description is to offer my opinion on music and art, I get on people's bad side a lot. And, as I am of the opinion that the majority of popular music and art is watered-down and those who like it have no taste, I get on people's bad side a lot more often than I probably need to.

This really bugs me. Not the getting hate mail part (I squeal with delight whenever I see a letter to the editor slagging me,) but the fact that these same people who are so apathetic to the local music scene and the promotion of quality artists turn around and act as though they've sworn a blood oath to stand up for a major-label band churning out by-the-numbers music free of passion or individuality.

Some pop star puts out a boring album and I say so, but you'd think I stomped into the listener's home, slapped their mother, then made their puppy cry. I understand people grow very attached to their art. I can admit I might have a raised eyebrow and harsh words for anyone who would say Dylan can't write or Hendrix can't play.

It's when people whine that I've been mean to Fergie that I get confused.

I recently got a double-dose of this on Monday, when two letters were published about my review of the recent Angels and Airwaves gig at the BJC. (To recap what I said: I personally hate all of their fans and am glad for all the personal suffering Tom DeLonge has endured in his life.)

On one hand, as always, I was excited to see that people read my stuff and cared enough to compliment it. On the other hand, it was a lousy gig by a mediocre band, and I panned it thusly. Yet people are up in arms about it. I try my best to mix my criticism with solutions and pointing in better directions: I support local bands, I highlight albums I enjoy, etc. But I get the same tired "oh, man, everyone there liked it, just shut up" e-mails. As if it's the job of a critic to just regurgitate what the fans think.

I'm glad that people at least cared enough to buy tickets to a rock concert, but I'm sad that standards have fallen so low that people are praising the weak show. Maybe if the average student here put a sliver of the energy they spend into defending tripe into searching out better music, they would't have to settle.

Emerging venues

As of today, November 15 2006, it's been exactly six months since Crowbar closed. I still remember the sting I felt at the news, especially my outrage at the bogus rationale.

They cited "influences from other, larger venues within Crowbar’s market area" as the reason for their close.

Well, it's November, and almost half a year later these new venues haven't really showed up. If you're not going to a big BJC show, your options are kept pretty small and local. As much as I enjoy and appreciate the shows put on at Dragon Chasers, the Tall Shiva Hookah Lounge and other locations, they do not have the capacity to draw bigger acts that Crowbar did. I don't think one hundred kids hitting the occasional all-ages Roustabout! was really siphoning off that much revenue from a venue that could book Hawthorne Heights.

But analyzing the incompetence at Crowbar will not do. It's gone, and that's that. The Cell Block, so far, has put more emphasis on the club aspect of the venue. From talking to people who've seen the Erie and Williamsport locations, I understand this is probably not going to change much.

This is unfortunate. It's in a great location, has the right capacity and would still have a lot of the fanbase that was familiar with going to Crowbar shows. It would be nice to see them give booking more shows a try (preferably someone who didn't peak in the 80's,) but there's no use holding your breath.

There are two up-and-coming venues on the horizon to watch though. The first is Lulu's Nightstop (renamed from Club Love, which evidently was a bit too masculine.) They had Shooter Jennings last night, the Drive-By Truckers earlier in the year, and State Radio is coming up with locals Cloverleaf as openers. It's not a lot of shows to judge them by, but it's a step in the right direction.

I think the shows are 21+, which is a huge downfall that really hurts. Eddie Money at the Cell Block was 21+ and packed the house, but I think that can be written off by realizing that most people who wanted to go either listened to Money in his prime, or had to be drunk enough to forget the guy on stage had aged about 20 years since he'd been on the radio.

Making a show 21+ cuts off over half of the potential student audience and is just a lame move for reasons detailed in a previous blog. Scroll down and read the archives!

The other one is the long-awaited State Theatre. The Grand Opening is set for Dec. 14. So far, the most interesting announced shows are Marah and Sean Lennon. While the Theatre will not primarily focus on rock music, or even music, the location and size make it a great place to host some mid-level acts.

But even a couple of shows would be a welcome addition to the scene here. Bringing in bands would, I think, draw a great crowd. I don't want to speculate on the kind of acts that could show up, but the crowd for indie and lesser-known bands here is tremendous.

My hope, I guess, is that these potential new venues will take the chance to try bringing in some good bands regularly, and learn from the mistakes of the Crowbar. There is a huge gap in the potential to see live bands, and the new venues have the ability to remedy this situation. Here's hoping that this time next year, we've got more options.

"I laugh until my head falls off..."

After spending the past year making snide comments in the paper, I had the pleasure of yelling them out, unfiltered, to the actual performer.

In other words, I got to heckle.

But first some background: This past Friday, I attended a joint comedy show venture between Students Organizing the Multiple Arts and the Full Ammo Improv. And while comedy is inherently hit or miss, I could't help but wish the balance wasn't so skewed at the HUB that night. The "hits" were just friendly jabs on the shoulder, while the misses made me wonder if the comics hadn't hit a bump and lost their punchlines while driving down Beaver Ave.

The show featured a mix of local talent, comics from Rutgers, and some people with national exposure, like comics featured on Comedy Central's Premium Blend and host Michael Showalter (Wet Hot American Summer, Stella.) But even Showalter faltered at times, opening his introduction with some d-level schlock that seemed like a desperate attempt of a failing comedian to engage the crowd.

Showalter: How are we doing, Penn State?

Crowd: (mild applause)

Showalter: I can't hear you!

Crowd: (slightly more enthusiastic)

Showalter: No, I really can't hear you. I have an inner ear disorder.

Crowd: (crickets pushing tumbleweed)

The rest of Showalter's stuff was much better, including his guilty pleasure playlist (any excuse to diss crappy music is fine by me) and a wonderfully surreal bit nitpicking on why Starbucks sells the movie Akeelah and the Bee--and only Akeelah and the Bee.

But aside from that, there were few highlights. Technical problems prevented the videos from being shown. There were at least four musicians comedians, only two of which were worth anything. Rob Paravonian probably had the best set though. His in-between song banter was better than most everyone else's stand-up, and his songs were funny and not repetitive. Best of all was a song about how he can't stop hearing Pachebel's "Canon" whereever he goes, which ends with a medley of popular songs using the same chords that had the crowd in hysterics.

But even that hit was not enough to counter the night's biggest miss. I don't know the guy's name, and even if I did, his performance was so bad that printing it in public would endanger his life (even moreso if a chunk of the crowd hadn't left two minutes into his set.) I can't repeat his jokes for two reasons:

1.) Everything that came out of his mouth was idiotic, racist, sexist, and offensive when it was intelligible (which half of it was not.)

2.) He didn't tell a single joke.

It's all a blur of bad taste, but I remember this psuedo-Dane Cook wannabe with a thick Brooklyn-Italian accent rambling on about going to the hood, getting beaten up for hitting on women of others races, and then yelling at girls at parties, or something. He went over his time limit twice. He lost at least a tenth of the crowd. His "comedy" was met with silence by everyone aside from one vocal girl in the front (clearly a plant, his girlfriend, or a planted girlfriend.)

Now, I understand comedy is a tough art. I respect anyone who gets up there and tries. There's constant crowd feedback, so the comedian is feeling it everytime a line doesn't hit. A lot of them were student comedians playing to a very large crowd so I cut them a lot of slack.

Until this clown yelled out "Yeah, you like that?"

To which someone else in the crowd replied "No!"

"Who said that?" the alleged comedian replied. "Hey, man, f--k you!"

At this point, fifteen minutes of enduring this guy had taken its toll. Without thinking, I yelled out "No, f--k YOU! Tell a f---ing joke!" I don't know if he heard me, though the amount of turned heads told me at least the ten rows in front of me did. But it still felt good to voice my displeasure at his total lack of talent. And if you're reading this, Mr. Comedian, please remember how many backs of heads you saw as you scared the crowd away. Please take my advice. Try telling a joke next time you're on stage.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah: Automatic Standing Ovations

I'm used to being told my standards are a little high. As the Collegian's senior music music reporter and stingy critic on the Arts in Review page, I get all kinds of mail about how I'm too much of an elitist. (Okay, by "all kinds" I mean "half a dozen," and four of those were in response to a column where I said how much of an elitist I am.) But my most recent encounter with feeling like a miser came not when dissing a Pop CD, but when going to see a friend in a play.

The Rocky Horror Show came to the Schwab Auditorium. I'd recently seen clips of the film version for the first time, I knew a girl in the chorus, and I had nothing better to do when watch boys in corsets on a Friday night, so I checked it out.

The show was very good, even great. A live band did all the songs, the choreography was great, the audience shout-outs were hilarious, and I have nothing but respect for the guy who played Frank; anyone who can walk steps then slide down a fireman's pole in high heels is certainly applause-worthy.

But, as a critic, I had a few minor complaints too. And I do mean "minor." Not every single song was a knockout, and one or two tunes in the middle dragged a bit. To me, all this means is that the show was great but not flawless. If I was reviewing it, it might get an A-.

So when the show ended and the audience rose for a standing ovation, I remained sitting. To me, a standing ovation is the highest possible award, one you give when a performance blows you away for the duration.

Did I enjoy myself at Rocky? Immensely. One guy in the balcony was yelling comments that had me in stitches, and "Time Warp" is one of my favorite songs from a musical ever. I just didn't feel it was one of the best things I'd ever seen, so not standing ovation worthy.

But man, did I feel like a jerk for it. I tried to explain myself and say that it was "very good" (I got yelled at for not saying "great") I said that I just felt the standing ovation was a higher honor (I got yelled at for that too). At least I'm getting used to this: I was one of the only guys sitting during a No Refund Theatre run-through of The Breakfast Club last year, too.

Am I wrong? I don't know. Both shows were a blast, and everyone had a great time. I could have gone with the crowd's energy and hit my feet, but I sat there like Scrooge. But it's hard for me to feel bad: I cheered during the show, I clapped at the end, and I have 95 percent positive things to say.

I'm just doing my small part to show performers that, hey, give it just a little something more, and THAT'S a standing ovation. It's part of my ongoing struggle to slowly raise the standards of the audience and thus the arts scene at Penn State.

Or maybe I'm just an ass.

The Tyranny of 21+ Shows

A pet peeve of mine that I've been meaning to write about for awhile is the concept of 21+ shows. As a youngin', I remember repeated disappointment at any good gig that would be limited to persons of the legal drinking age. Modest Mouse did a rare gig in Boise when I still lived in Idaho, but I couldn't go because I couldn't drink. Nevermind that I didn't drink or have any interest in doing so. One of my favorite bands (one I have yet to see live) was playing in the Gem State for the first time since 1997 and I couldn't go because of alcohol restrictions. I also caught many good gigs at the Crowbar last year that I couldn't have seen if the Cell Block had hosted them, evidenced by their 21+ Eddie Money show.

Many of my friends told me that I'd sing a different tune once I turned 21 myself. "No way," I told them, holding onto my youthful conviction. And though our opinions often change with increased age and perspective, the folly of 21+ shows is still something that gets me sore.

Now, I'm not talking about every local bar band or cover act with a weekly gig. While I'm still upset about missing the Mouse, I think any 17 year old who's just dying to see a Velveeta gig has his priorities messed up.

But what's the point of booking a big act and then keeping half of their fan base out? Ticket prices should more than compensate for their inability to drink. And, on a more general level, excluding non-drinkers from a show shifts the emphasis from music to alcohol. The Eddie Money show seemed less like a concert and more like a beeline from the 25 cent drafts and back to the stage when a hit came up. Half the crowd stood around with their backs turned to the band.

I know there's another option. One of the greatest nights of my life was when I saw Eyes Adrift, a short-lived supergroup made up of Curt Kirkwood from the Meat Puppets, Bud Gaugh from Sublime and Krist Novaselic from Nirvana. Nirvana was the band that got me into rock music and were still my favorite band at that time.

I stood three feet away from Krist in the front row, swooning the entire show. Afterwards, I got to meet him and tell him how much his music had meant to me, and it's probably the only time I've been truly awestruck meeting a musician.

Why is this relevant? It was a gig in a bar in Boise. I was only 18. But they just slapped some Xs on my hands and kept me away from the bar. And it bothers me to think that, if the venue had been more concerned with getting the money out of a few beers instead of from my ticket, I never would have had that experience. And even though I may now be 21, I don't want anyone else to lose opportunities because of age.

Weekly Wrap-Up

Last week, I ended with a few suggestions for live music events to check out that week, ranging from '80s rock to whiny acoustic drivel to a top-level Roustabout! show. Here's my recap of how they turned out:

Wednesday, 10/11 - Eddie Money at the Cell Block

Though Eddie Money isn't exactly looking as pretty as he did in the '80s, I'd be hard pressed to deny the show had great energy. Maybe it was the excitement of hearing hits like "Two Tickets to Paradise" and "Take Me Home Tonight (Be My Baby)" sung live. Maybe it was the (surprisingly) packed house, filled with frat boys and 40-something women reliving their glory days as high school rockers. Maybe it was the .25 cent beer. Whatever the cause, it was a full house and everyone was entertained. My only complaint is that, though the Cell Block packed the house in a way the Crowbar seemed unable to do, they did it on the strength of a retro act. Ill be more impressed when they promote upcoming artists and current music with the same efficiency.

Thursday, 10/12 - SOMA Acoustic Show at West Halls Study Lounge

It pains me to say this, as I have uniformly enjoyed all events by Students Organizing the Multiple Arts, but Thursday's acoustic show was a low point for me.

Local band the Minor White opened, seeming a little dull. Their songwriting is tight enough that I imagined an acoustic set would be natural, but sound problems, a short set, and a different arrangement meant they seemed a bit lacking. Raise Roof Beams were a highlight, though, integrating country and folk influences well, including one guy who whipped out both the mandolin and the banjo.

It was all downhill from there though. Solo act Koji on the Roof was the worst kind of earnest, strumming-under-the-willow-tree-in-the-quad-to-get-girls kind of singer (and, yes, most girls I asked were swooning a bit.) He left out the whole "talent" part though, and worse yet, he butchered a Wilco song, then had the nerve to invoke Otis Redding through a woefully inappropriate cover of "(Sittin' on) the Dock of the Bay," stripping it of it's emotional resonance in an arrangement too wimpy for even John Mayer to consider. I couldn't re-enter the room after that but I think the band name of Boys Like Girls tells any potential listener whether or not they'll like that band.

Friday, 10/13 - Roustabout! at the Tall Shiva Hookah Lounge

Now here was the week's highlight. The Minor White more than compensated for the previous night in one of my favorite gigs by them, emphasizing elements like the keyboards and sounding a lot looser and more rocking. And Olivia Mancini and the Housemates, in from D.C., were astounding. Using female vocals and brass, they swayed from great pop to total noise (I've never seen anyone play their trumpet into their guitar pick-ups before) very smoothly. I will be first in line next time they visit.

"Despite all my rage..."

Okay, I think I remembered my problem with cover bands.

There I was, standing in the Saloon on Thursday night and enjoying a monkey boy or two, when some cover band hit the stage. They launched into "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" by Smashing Pumpkins, which pleased me at first.

Then they began launching into a progressively awful set of songs, ranging from "Headstrong" by Trapt to "We Are All on Drugs" by Weezer, the latter of which I actually booed. It was a nice timeline of the decline of alternative rock into the over-processed, amelodic trash it is now.

As a kid who cut his teeth on Nirvana, it's ridiculous to see a band like the Pumpkins lumped in with Trapt and current Weezer. (And, seriously, out of every Weezer song ever, why "We Are all on Drugs"? So many classics. "Buddy Holly." "Say It Ain't So." "Undone - the Sweater Song." "Hash Pipe." "Island in the Sun." "El Scorcho.")

I know cover bands are there just to get drunk to and hear recognizable music, but come on. You can't just lump in accomplished, talented bands with a bunch of goons who rhyme "headstrong" with "headstrong" in the chorus of their big hit. I'm getting a headache just thinking about those monkey boys, but I still wasn't drunk enough to sing along to this band.

The band itself angered me too. They looked like a collection of rock cliches. I saw a bandana, shaggy hair, and a big guy with tattoos.

It's not even the fact that the band played terrible music that bothers me, it's that they lump in worthy art with total junk. Do people really not care what they listen to? I can't even blame it on drunkeness, because this is a problem I notice everywhere. (See my column from last Thursday for more on this.)

I guess, instead of complaining, I'll offer a few alternatives. SOMA is throwing a free show tomorrow; an acoustic show in the West Hall Study Lounge, with Boys Like Girls of Columbia Records headlining. Then the hookah lounge is hosting an all-ages Roustabout! at 9 p.m. on Friday.

And if you're not going to check those out, at least do me a favor. The next time you're at a bar, and the band launches into an inexcusably lame song, don't just bob your head and keep drinking. Boo a little, keep them on their toes.

"Now that's you're 21 you've got a lot to lose"

So I turned 21 this weekend.

If I was on the nightlife gig, I'd have plenty of comments on the absurdity of 21st birthday policies: for example, the Shandygaff doesn't let you in until 26 hours after your birthday.

However, one aspect of my new of-age status does apply to my blog's little corner: access to the cover band scene.

I've been in the original music camp since I came to State College. I've always thought the idea of a cover band was pretty much a waste. Throwing a few familiar tunes into a set is fun, but why devote your time to totally unoriginal material?

The opposing side said it was just music to have fun and get drunk to, but I've always had trouble buying it.

Flash forward to Saturday and I'm in a booth, half-empty beer in front of me, enthusiastically air-drumming during the big slowdown and explosion in the intro of "Take Me Out" by Franz Ferdinand. And while I stiffled a giggle when I heard "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)," I also have to confess I was upset they chose to cover Blur while I was in the little boy's room.

I was still cognizant enough to recognize this shift in attitudes, so I asked a sober friend who was with us what he thought. He said that, while they were proficient enough in terms of musicianship, he still didn't enjoy them very much.

Then I tried to figure out the advantage of hiring a band to play covers instead of just using a jukebox or DJ. It's certainly more interactive and spontaneous. No one cheers for a record, but if it's a live band kicking into a song you like, it's more like a show. And it makes more sense to pay attention to, and dance to, a live band.

So why the turnaround? Are there just times when you drop your pretensions and want to have a good time? Is there anything wrong with having a live band to punch out some songs you can sing along with? Is it just a better option than having a radio or playlist running in the background? I imagine that, as I continue to head out on the weekends, I'll come to grips with this changing of the tides in my attitude on cover bands.