r Gen X music fans, Hootie and the Blowfish is a group whose music you were used to hearing on the radio, back in the days when bands like Pearl Jam, Sound Garden and Alice in Chains played constantly on the air.
The term “three-axe attack” is only scary when it isn’t referring to music. Southern rock band Drive-By Truckers specializes in this attack (a term that describes the arrangement of three guitars alongside bass and drums) and is scheduled to roll into Eugene for a show at the McDonald Theatre.
Maybe you’re having one of those days when you feel like you need to stomp someone — or one of those evenings when the only thing that will make you feel better is a cognizant dip into swells of malt liquor and Southern-playalistic pseudo-thugged-out crunk music.
Anyone who’s ever been in a band and grown frustrated by managing three or four different schedules while juggling three or four eccentric personalities would blanche at the prospect of being in Typhoon.
It’s one thing to be an innovative musician working the confines of your chosen genre; it’s quite another to reinvent the instrument you’ve mastered and revolutionize the way it is played. Grammy- nominated harpist Deborah Henson-Conant has accomplished this and more.
For those who fiend for the authenticity of Portland’s indie-art aesthetic, the idiosyncrasy of the power duo and the elegance of a classical stringed instrument, Talkdemonic is your Homeric lotus fruit, your Coleridgean Xanadu — with Lisa Molinaro on viola and Kevin O’Connor on drums, loops and laptop (and the occasional avant-banjo thrown in), Talkdemonic comes to Eugene as a complete package.
You’re at your first Keller Williams show, not quite knowing what to expect. The stage is littered with guitars, a drum pad, speakers, synths. A regular-looking guy takes the stage and the crowd perks up.
Well, it’s more like beauties, beats, brass and bass when MarchFourth Marching Band (M4) is in town. For those unfamiliar, the Portland-based improv troupe is an experience of ruffled burlesque panties, bass guitar and the sonic blaring of saxophone.
Today’s musical generation has transcended guitar. There are probably a thousand objectors who could claim this statement is erroneous, but long gone are the days when guitar gods were held at the highest tier of mainstream music.
It’s refreshing to see a strong woman on stage with a mandolin in her hands. That particular role, typically dominated by male-bodied folk in string bands, is pivotal. The mandolin, usually seen played by women only in its classical guise, defines a great deal of string-band topography — those shrill plucks that carry listeners over musical plateaus to mountain-top exclamations.
Pretend for a moment that you’re a member of an iconic music crew. You’ve released your seminal work years ago, and prevailing trends have seen the mainstream of your genre devolve from highly educated emcee orators into codeine-guzzling degenerates (here’s lookin’ at you, Wayne). You don’t want to raise a white flag to the wackness, but you’re not about to give up on your life’s work either. What do you do?