Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in Sheri H.'s LiveJournal:

Sunday, April 10th, 2005
11:37 am	Marianne Faithfull MARIANNE FAITHFULL March 11, 2005 The Paradise - Boston with special guest Fernando Saunders Marianne shreds Boston with her searing intensity. Claiming to be nervous since this is the first of her US shows after her collapse in Europe last Fall, one would never notice. Although she is visibly still somewhat ill from the fall-out of bronchitis, sipping tea etc. and clearly too overheated at points, NERVOUS? Please! Combining powerful new material from her "Before the Poison" cd with those special songs of yore that the crowd longs to hear in her particular husky intonations of outrage, Marianne surpasses all hopes or desires. One feels such privilege to be in her presence, let alone hear her sing "Sister Morphine" for the first time in 20 years. From the start her smile melts the audience and makes them even more malleable clay for the creative handiwork of her spitfire vocals. Certainly a high point in terms of the new material is her live version of PJ Harvey's "No Child Of Mine." I just can't imagine any PJ fan not buying the CD and hearing the jaw dropping collaborations between PJ and Marianne. Indeed the live versions amp up the intensity. Other songs she sings from the "Before the Poison" cd include "Mystery of Love" and "Crazy Love." Then Marianne further ensnares the crowd with totally unexpected moments like her truly wild and insane take on an unreleased Roger Waters tune "Incarceration". Her versions of the timeless "Lucy Jordan," haunting "Sister Morphine" and encore with "Broken English" really rev up the crowd. Without a doubt, however, the high point of the performance is John Lennon's "Working Class Hero." This is the pinnacle of Marianne as the supreme interpretive artist that she is. Like the Shakespearean actor who owns a particular role as no other, Marianne spits forth those lyrics with an angered boiling venom that equals the greatest of soliloquies. In the final analysis you stand there in awe captivated and yet knowing that you are witness to one of the rare moments when art reveals transcendent truth. Marianne's performance is revelatory in every way thinkable. Let every knee bend and head bow before her. http://sherihausey.com/faithfull (Comment on this)
Saturday, February 26th, 2005
6:54 pm	THE DRESDEN DOLLS IN MAINE DRESDEN DOLLS February 6, 2005 InStore Performance BullMoose Music - Scarborough, Maine AMANDA - vocals, tamborine BRIAN - acoustic & electric guitars & vocalsInstore Performance Visions of Natasha and Boris dance before my eyes as Bill and I head up 95 from Boston. We're heading to BullMoose Music in Maine and I can't get Bullwinkle out of my brain. With that jingle (BullMoose in Maine/Bullwinkle on the brain) on auto-replay, images of Amanda as Natasha, varied and intriguing, come fast and easy. But Brian as Boris is something my mental airbrushing can't quite perfect. And I have no image whatsoever to work with for this Sunday afternoon instore performance. These sorts of events can be so anti-septic depending on the particular outlet. A STRIPmall?! Actual DAYLIGHT?! Will they be CRAMMED into a corner? Will I barely see them over the BARRY MANILOW rack? Ah, is this to turn in a FRACTURED FAIRY TALE? But then that segment of Bullwinkle was always my favorite. With what witty humor the creators took something familiar and morphed it into a humorous and wondrous tale in its own right. A Fractured Fairy Tale is then an alt-reality in which the known is refreshed and revitalized through its juxtaposition within an alien framework. Now I find myself longing for a Fractured Doll Tale. I am not disappointed. Click here for text and photos: http://sherihausey.com/dresdendolls/maine/moose_show.htm http://sherihausey.com/dresdendolls/maine/moose_show2.htm DRESDEN DOLLS February 6, 2005 InStore SIGNING BullMoose Music - Scarborough, Maine Instore Signing Firsts. They stick in your soul and mold your being, especially those early, early firsts. My first rock concert was Iron Butterfly in Albuquerque, NM. I was twelve years old and I still have the journal in which I wrote that first rock review. I've been a live music junky ever since. This is a new first for me and I imagine all kinds of people are having memorable firsts. This is the first instore I've been to that actually had enough space for the performers and audience. This is my first daylight Dolls' experience. Being able to see the band AND the audience casts me in more of an observer role than ever. I'm struck again and again by the unique multi-generational make-up of the crowd: parents with young kids, elementary age and younger; pre-teens sans any adult accompaniment; teenagers across the spectrum; plenty of that twenty something crowd and, yes, some of us WAY beyond thirty something. As I snap shots I've never felt like such a documentarian. This feeling becomes even more pronounced as I snap away during the signing. As I watch each enthralled fan approach Brian and Amanda and proffer whatever item they've brought--posters, shoes, bras, purses, body parts, an artificial limb, casts, t-shirts, artwork, a tiara, journals, jackets et alii--, I sense that thrill of the first. These are synergistic moments that will be cherished. For even if one has been to an event of this sort before, one has never met the intense gaze of the totally engaged Brian and Amanda. Their eyes look deep and you are the center of their world. This is how people become fans for life. Click here for text and photos: http://sherihausey.com/dresdendolls/maine/moose_signing.htm http://sherihausey.com/dresdendolls/maine/moose_signing2.htm DRESDEN DOLLS February 6, 2005 THE SPACE Portland, Maine The Space Show The performance at The Space is the closest to a loft party with the Dolls that I'm likely to experience. I've been here before and loved the downtown art "scenester" vibe. So when I had to make a choice between the recent Northeast gigs, this was an easy one for me. The intimacy of the Space, the sense that one's just been invited over for an evening of mad music, the knowledge that this "sit on the edge of the stage we're all friends here" setting will surely become a rarity as the Dolls play larger venues, all this creates a special sense of anticipation. Not surprisingly the stage is ringed by videographers and photogs. From the first chords of "Good Day" the pied pipers take over. Its the dramatic shifts of the set's composition that makes this lunge toward the cliff a particularly pleasant total loss of objective self-awareness. One is pulled forward by the joy of the familiar tune, by the unconscious sing-a-long. One is knocked out of that moment into an arousing altered emotional state by the elevated pitch of the new--Brian and Amanda ripping through PJ Harvey's "Rid of Me." PJ's tune is itself the perfected blueprint for the ensnaring structure of a sink and swell song. Brian's high pitched rendition of PJ's "lick my legs I'm on fire, lick my legs of desire" refrain licks the crowd in all the right places. The Dolls slice reality thin on the stage's razor edge. But then there are the hushed moments when Amanda goes solo, when each individual sensor hones in on her beacon. Amanda's explanatory preamble sets the stage. This is a new song, not even Brian has ever heard it before. She's playing it for all of us for the first time and there's Brian, truly one with the audience. With his arms wrapped around his knees he pulls them close to his chest and, like the rest of us, waits in hushed anticipation. And just when we've succumbed to that Sorceress of the Sublime, the duo plugs back in and electrocutes us in mass with Black Sabbath's "War Pigs." What a shock treatment for the soul ! What a shock treatment for rock 'n' roll! Click here for text and photos: http://sherihausey.com/dresdendolls/maine/space.htm http://sherihausey.com/dresdendolls/maine/space2.htm ______________________________________________________ (Comment on this)
Saturday, January 29th, 2005
2:57 pm	Mission of Burma at The Bowery Ballroom Mission of Burma at the Bowery Ballroom January 14th and 15th, 2005 The Bowery Ballroom is a wondrous venue. The oxymoron of its alliterative name is at once intriguing. How does one align tattered suit images of cast off bowery bums with the waltzing arena of the elite? What does one expect to find a few blocks away from the punk palace of CBGB's with its litter encrusted walls? One finds a wondrous space just the right size to accommodate a good size crowd but small enough to keep the synergy between performer and audience up close and intense. With its well crafted balcony and excellent sound system, the Bowery Ballroom is a music fan's haven from the dismal environment of most live music venues. Perhaps this is why many musicians book multiple nights here rather than book a larger venue. Patti Smith recently spent almost an entire week playing in residence with a New Year's bash to boot. So from the moment I hear that Burma is playing here two nights, I'm overly excited by thoughts of the inspired evening that will result from such a perfect match. I'm still moved by my memories of seeing Lou Reed performing here during his Raven tour. Even as Jon and I are milling around during soundcheck with our cameras, I have flashes of Lou at the edge of the stage reciting his Edgar Allen Poe adaptation. Yea, Lou, "nevermore quoth" that damn Raven. Coming back to the now, I look around, taking in the expanse. I'm overwhelmed. The excellent lighting and balcony provide for photo op heaven during soundcheck. In fact I think these are the best pictures I take all weekend. Peter hangs out on the stage and talks with Jon, Eric and me for quite a while. This is a special treat. The conversation centers around the sad state of used record stores and the booming basement Boston rock scene. Efforts to appropriately define punk meander in myriad directions. By chance the entire time Peter stands and sits in the most beautiful light . He also exhibits a generous nature by ignoring how Jon and I trade off shooting shots. Peter in that light is irresistible. When Jon talks, I click; when I talk, Jon clicks. Thanks Peter. I love my shots and I know Jon must have some amazing prints. Burma's on stage. I sit in the balcony quite a while. Leaning on the table I revel in this vantage spot. Behind me Bob Weston never looked quite so much like the divine master of ceremonies. Suspended in the air he works a special magic pushing faders and twisting knobs on his mixing console. Ben Miller enters below, sax case in hand. More special treats for the evening. Seeing the Rachel's onstage causes a momentary ATP 2002 flashback. Flash forward to now and they'll still join Burma on "Wounded World" and more. The show can't start soon enough. CLICK HERE FOR PHOTOS http://sherihausey.com/mob/bowery/1_14_05_sc.htm http://sherihausey.com/mob/bowery/1_14_05.htm http://sherihausey.com/mob/bowery/1_15_05.htm (Comment on this)
2:43 pm	Mission of Burma at the Iron Horse Mission of Burma at the IRON HORSE January 13th, 2005 I'm staring at the grungy linoleum and thinking about New York. I'm pondering the gray chilly seediness of the Springfield bus depot as I wait to change buses for Northampton--a good spot to shoot a "Taxi Driver" sequel. My thoughts shift from the glorious underbelly that used to be 42nd street to Mission of Burma's re-emerging blasts upon the sonic landscape at 17 Irving Plaza. Three years ago on this evening Burma played the second of their two shows at Irving Plaza. For the select few the Burma switch flipped "ON" on January 10, 2002 in Somerville during their "warm up" gig. For the rest of us in the world at large Burma blasted back with their own January winter storm the 12th and 13th. I hear my bus called and head out in a haze seasoned by amazed memories of the past three years. The Best Western beckons and I answer the call. Not realizing that The Iron Horse is a mere two blocks from where the bus has left me, I trudge off in the opposite direction. Mapquest distances can be so deceiving for the dimensionally impaired. Anxious calls must be made. Screwball isn't answering. Not good. Not good. This can only mean that the soundcheck has already started. Annoying, painfully and intensely annoying to have rushed out and missed Burma by a few minutes. Damn. I speed dial Jon Strymish. He answers. He claims they just started. I can make it if I hurry. I grab my umbrella and tromp BACK through the drizzle and piled up slushy snow mounds. Familiar Burmese sounds greet me as I enter the Iron Horse. Soon though completely new sounds emerge, a lot of them. The unveiling of new material is one reason I'm anxious to find my way into a soundcheck. The odds are particularly high that Burma will be working through the kinks of new offerings after a live performance hiatus. I do not exaggerate when I say that all members have produced some powerful new songs. Throughout the weekend I will hear again and again people's ecstatic reactions to the intense strength of the new material. No song garners as strong a reaction as Clint's "Twice." After each show fans hyperventilate: "What was that song? It's got hit written all over it!" Of course we're talking Burma "Revolver" type hit, but you never know. Now Bob Weston walks toward the stage. Nothing too odd about this. Now he's putting Clint's bass strap across his shoulder. This is a little odd. Now Clint straps on a guitar. Okay, now we are definitely in the realm of the odd but wondrous. As all four Burmen discuss amongst themselves, the realization wafts over me that something historic is about to take place. Everyone this weekend is in for a surprise. Yet now that it is happening it all seems so natural that I can't imagine why it never happened before. With all the guests that have sat in on songs, how is that Bob has never taken the stage before? Maybe I missed it. After all, I haven't been to every single show. But as I learn later, this is yet another organic Burma moment. It's happening now because, well, that's how Clint wrote the song, with two guitars in mind. Even later later, when Clint tells me that the name of this song is, "Good, Not Great," I can't help but wonder if he realizes what a complete misnomer that title is. Clint doesn't seem to drip with dramatic irony, but perhaps the irony of the title in relation to the situation escapes him? Perhaps it's just a working title? Perhaps I'm just... er... over-reacting? No! In fact the word GREAT, let alone good, is a highly deficient adjective to describe not only that song but the entire weekend. To experience Burma at such a creative peek, still searing the stage with such energized sonic disturbance, is "???." Fill in with your own deficient adjective. Verbal language is so limited. That's why the human soul unearthed music. CLICK HERE FOR IRON HORSE PHOTOS http://sherihausey.com/mob/ironhorse/1_13_05_sc.htm http://sherihausey.com/mob/ironhorse/1_13_05.htm (Comment on this)
2:12 pm	Mission of Burma at Siren Fest 2004 Another cross post from my site of material from July, 2004 _________________________ I'm here in my Manhattan hotel room reflecting on a wondrous day and Burma's piercing performance. Fav moment: Roger and Clint spontaneously at the same time both aiming their cameras over their mikes for a shot of the Coney Island human sea that spread out before them. Clint's comment something like---"we're the oldest naive people in Coney Island." More upon my return. must sleep. 2004-07-23 18:59:02 Burma at Siren Fest -- the yummy creamy center whose taste delight was so overwhelming that even the inexplicable and unexpectedly stale cookie exterior couldn't leave the least little bit of a bitter aftertaste. THE BEFORE At about 1:00 AM Mike Flach and I drive into the city from the Friday night New Haven show. Should be a straight shot, no? Who could imagine sitting in absolute standstill traffic for hours at this time of the morning? Who else has had the misfortune to be on 95 at 2:00, 3:00, 4:00 AM when they shut down, yes SHUT DOWN, the George Washington bridge? We're talking truck driver block party cuz no one is going anywhere anytime soon. Mike is starving and reminisces about his other travel mishaps in pursuit of Burmese bliss. I feel like a jerk being in anyway a facilitator to this wee hour nightmare. If only I were more confident about how to cut through the Bronx. If only I'd brought a map. If only...Silly me. Mike has enough wherewithal to turn to the AM dial where our situation is broadcast in the bleakest of terms. They're installing some beam on the GW, shutting down the bridge and AVOID THIS AREA AT ALL COSTS. Oh well, I always wanted to see a South Bronx sunrise through a barrage of eighteen wheelers. I'm sure Mike would have gotten home sooner if he'd walked. Finally I see some movement in the distance, but our progress is further delayed because the truck drivers, having vacated their vehicles, are scattered all up and down 95. Like minnows before an oncoming trout they swoosh into their cabs and we're off. Or are we? We hit the Henry Hudson highway in full gear and come to another full stop. More road work. After a comparatively short delay, we continue downtown. Mike declines my offers to take him to Brooklyn (smart man) - "Just drop me at the L since you're heading downtown, " he responds. I leave Mike at Union square around 4:30. The L doesn't come until after 5:30 AM. SIREN SOUNDS Last time I was in Coney Island was over 10 years ago. It was a purposeful trip in the dead of winter in order to "experience" the life devoid bleakness of it all. Today couldn't be more different. Even though the sky is somewhat overcast, the streets sweat human throngs as varied, vibrant and vivacious as the city itself. Here the synergy of New York slams against the longed for escape of the beach front carnival. The century old longings of Luna Park and Dreamland transform into this Indie Rock Siren's call. Earplugs proliferate. The crowd, one immense Odysseus, thus follows the music hoping for that ecstatic moment that leaves them crashed upon the rocks but just short of death. STORM SWELLS Thanks to a fellow Burmite I have that magic talisman, an access wristband. Amazing what wonders a thin strip of paper can open up. Once past the keepers of the gate, the backstage white wicker cubicles come into view. Draped in beach towels and discarded clothing, the space provides an open respite from the crowds outside. Barefoot rockers shake their salty locks, Clint Conley among them. Jimmy Conley (MOB tour manager) recounts a smashing dip in the Atlantic as well, but now it's back to work. He and Bob Moses dive into the gear. A short while later Burma takes the stage for some final tuning time. Sunglass clad Clint, a cool colossus, looks out across the throng. Like spectators who've ignored the weatherman's warnings, they wait for the predicted storm not quite believing its potential ferocity. BURMESE BLASTS The first major gust, "Dirt," hits them head on. "ALRIGHT, " a voice blares from behind. The pit suddenly swells as the backstage area empties. Photogs, photogs everywhere. I'm amazed at how deep this photography pit is, a huge private viewing area of sorts. It will not be the last time that I regret my trepidation about the unknown crowded venue and my decision to leave my Fuji in the hotel room. Armed with my disposable kodak, I plunge ahead into this Canon-Nikon sea. Fans scream out the lyrics as photographers jockey for position. Now Roger takes the lead, "This is NOT a Photograph." A chorus that implodes the audience into a sing-a-long but is hilarious given the circumstances. For perhaps seldom, or never, have so many cameras been pointed straight at Roger as he intoned those words. And now for a few choice words from Peter Prescott (paraphrased by me): "You know some how back in 1979 we knew that one day we would be here playing at Coney Island." A quizzical expression spreads across Roger's face. Where is he going with this? Peter continues, "Just like we knew that this year George Bush would get kicked out of office!" Applause. More hoots and hollers. The blast picks back up. Yes, there are various difficulties. Clint's vocal monitor goes out and Roger's guitar doesn't always sound like its in tune, but Burma's energy and stage power are pronounced. And yes, as Clint states when both he and Roger take simultaneous pictures of the crowd, perhaps they are "the oldest naive people in Coney Island." But naivete in this circumstance would seem to encompass their musical integrity over the years and a certain awe at the present crowd appreciation. To quote Bob Dylan (sort of), "May you remain forever naive." AND YOU WILL KNOW THEM BY THE TRAIL OF THE DEAD I was actually pretty psyched to finally see my fellow Texans. (Their set closed the night after Burma played.) Little did I realize that I was about to get a "beer on" explanation of the true meaning of their name. Trail of the Dead is just a lengthy synonym for the band's live audience's condition after the show. Granted, on the surface the band endangers themselves more than the listener, climbing onto unsecured stacked speakers and leaping off etc. etc. etc. Even posing as a water bottle dispensary is more cute than threatening. After all they pretty much empty the water bottles onto the audience before tossing the weightless plastic at us. Oh, okay, there is the time they toss the half full carton (24 or so) of unopened water bottles; but luckily a really tall guy grabs the package before it does any damage. No the real problem arises when they encourage the audience to toss beer at them. I know. I'm just no fun. What am I even doing there if I'm not ready to sacrifice my body for art? I agree. I can only proffer in my defense the total lack of bodily endangerment up to that point. Let's just say I get blind-sided. In fact, even as I realize that I'm still standing after a quick temporary jolting black-out, I don't leave right away. My left eye is throbbing. I reach up and am glad to feel that my glasses haven't shattered in my eye. I know I've been hit somehow but I don't understand. An insistent voice finally makes sense, "He wants to know if you're okay." Two guys and a girl are looking at me. One of them picks up a large unopened can of Budweiser off the ground. He repeats his query. "Yeah, I think so, " I reply. He opens the beer and takes a swig, "At least now you have a real concert story." ugh...fake is always better don't you think? I make my way over to a security guard. His gruff demeanor evaporates. He and several compatriots lead me to a backstage table. I assure them I'm okay (and I hope this is true) and emphasize that I just need to sit down for a bit. I do sit for a while contemplating the little black worms that swim in my line of vision. Finally I muster my strength to leave and beat the certain crowd crush that will occur when the band stops playing. It's only as I walk slowly away with the siren sounds receding that I notice the budweiser cans everywhere as well as the signs. Eureka! Now I see. I've had a direct message from Zeus himself. Instead of his usual lightening bolt he's hurled a beer can. His meaning is clear. "Beware You Indie Music Throngs! Beware this Corporate Sponsorship! When you least expect it, it will blind-side you but good!" CLICK HERE TO SEE MOB PHOTOS FROM SIREN FEST http://sherihausey.com/mob/siren/ CLICK HERE TO SEE MOB PHOTOS FROM TOADS IN NEW HAVEN http://sherihausey.com/mob/toads_sc/ http://sherihausey.com/mob/toads/ (Comment on this)
1:58 pm	Mission of Burma In Europe 2004 Here's a cross-posting from my site with material and links to the 4 UK gigs I was lucky enough to attend. Sheri H _____________________________ 2004-07-04 16:42:51 A quick post from my Glasgow Hotel room. Caught up with Burma in London on July 1st. Was sorry to miss the first part of their 2004 European jaunt. Glasgow gig was a blast. Into it crowd singing along to new tunes. Dig the drunk who kept screaming out "What about the other one?" in response to Pete's onstage wishes for November to bring a Bushless White House.er...yeah... what about the other one...who? what? speaking of Pete, saw him today--this is a day off before the band heads to Manchester tomorrow. As I was heading out of city center I saw his familiar visage through the bus window. Shock of shocks, he was in a record store-- The Record Exchange. Just wait till he gets to Manchester where there's some sort of vinyl record store on every corner--in the "bohemian" north Manchester district. I'm very amused that anyplace in this time and age consciously calls itself bohemian. But it is a way funky cool area and I'm really looking forward to the show. I pray they have some decent lighting. So far in the 3 shows I've seen-- London, Birmingham, Glasgow-- the lighting's gone from bad to worse. Glasgow was so dark on stage that Clint even asked them for more light so the band could see what they were doing. Now that's first. Will post what photos I can as soon as poosible after my return on the 7th. Sorry to miss the last 2 gigs in Ireland. That's sure to be a hellavu of a Burma Blast. But first they must blast some Mancusians. And we're off....... UPDATE - Back from UK.... SOUNDCHECK at NIGHT and DAY http://sherihausey.com/mob/manchester_check_2004/ THE SHOW at NIGHT and DAY MANCHESTER, UK - July 5, 2004 http://sherihausey.com/mob/manchester_show_2004/ THE BARFLY - GLASGOW - UK - July 3, 2004 http://sherihausey.com/mob/glasgow_2004/ CARLING ACADEMY - BIRMINGHAM - UK - July 2, 2004 http://sherihausey.com/mob/birmingham_2004/ SCALA - LONDON - UK - July 1, 2004 http://sherihausey.com/mob/london_2004/ And if you can't get enough of Burma in Europe, be sure to check out my orginal pages from 2002! THE GARAGE - LONDON - UK - April 25, 2002 http://www.sherihausey.com/mob/garage.htm (Comment on this)