Rock
While one hopes that never-before-released live shows are found and released, it is nice to revisit the start of Brian’s Wilson’s second-chance career.
There was little doubt that the singer owned every note with a pure sense of conviction — and community — that blew past rock-star trappings.
Seasoned fans were most likely to appreciate My Morning Jacket’s generous — if imperfect — sprawl.
One of the best things about the 40-minute selection from “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” that stood at the center of guitarist Steve Hackett’s near-three-hour show was its focus on the music without visual bolstering.
“Vinyl is special because it makes the music less disposable, it makes listening a little less convenient. There is something tactile for people to hold and look at, an object to cherish.”
At a time when the world’s aflame, David Byrne ignited creative camaraderie, a dazzling experience that lingers in mind and spirit.
On this night, it was clear that Brittany Howard’s status as a force of nature came not from her bellowing vocals so much as the soulful subtleties she wove into high notes.
“America hasn’t lost its historical and romantic legacy for British bands. At least that’s the case with us, anyway.”
Super-talented band with sharp material, big label backing, hot-shot producer, top-shelf recording studio—what could go wrong? Plenty.
The Pogues leaned on their instrumental breadth when they took the Suffolk Downs stage as an 11-piece ensemble augmented at times by guest singers and a three-piece horn section.
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