Look How Wrong You Can Be: Rod Stewart at the Sprint Center

It seems ridiculous at this late date, but I once cared about Rod Stewart so much that I held a grudge against the star.  Even though I was a punk enthusiast in the late ‘70s, I still loved early Stewart albums like Every Picture Tells a Story.  I took his artistic change of direction exemplified by "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?" as a personal affront.  I stopped caring about Stewart altogether twenty years ago.

My date and I regretted our impulsive purchase of $32 tickets as we drove to the Sprint Center last Tuesday, but Stewart immediately won us over.  Whether he was belting out classics like “Maggie May” or dodgy material like “Infatuation,” the preposterous antics of the unabashed ham were charming.  I didn’t hesitate to enthusiastically sing along to "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?"

An older woman seated in front of us googled “Rod Stewart age” in an oversize font on her undimmed phone.  Her curiosity was understandable.  The lusty vigor displayed by Stewart, 73, is genuinely sexy.  I smiled the entire show.  Had he been able to see into the future, my 18-year-old self would have been mortified.  I never liked that kid much anyway.


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I opted to post my review of Erykah Badu’s memorable concert at the Sprint Center at Plastic Sax.

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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

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Pilfered from my Twitter account: Joe Strummer lives! After raving about the combat rock of 6666 in a blog post on Tuesday, I paid $17 to catch Four Fists at the Riot Room last night.  I felt as if I was listening to the Clash’s Sandinista! for the first time.  The footage I posted to Instagram amuses me.

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I’m looking forward to an imminent beach vacation.  Quebra Cabeça, the fourth album by the Brazilian Afro-funk band Bixiga 70, will likely provide the core of the sunny but slightly sinister soundtrack to my downtime.  Here’s the title track.

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Not every selection on Atmosphere’s Mi Vida Local hits home, but Slug’s musings on subjects like parenting and Ant’s discerning beats reveal a promising path forward for aging hip-hop artists.  RIYL: feeling Minnesota, Jay-Z’s 4:44, middle age.

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Open Mike Eagle’s What Happens When I Try To Relax is scathing standup comedy set to astonishing music.  RIYL: Shabazz Palaces, punchlines, Dave Chappelle.

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Ubiquitous’s new four-song EP has several good moments.  Here’s “What If?”.

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I’ve never understood why jazz artists continue to allow producers and engineers to intentionally make their albums sound as if they were recorded in 1956.  The rich sound field of Aaron Parks' Little Big demonstrates the virtues of embracing the fact that it’s 2018.  RIYL: Pat Metheny Group, volume, Brad Mehldau Trio.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Concert Review: Joyce DiDonato with the Kansas City Symphony at Helzberg Hall

I didn't realize that my fandom of Joyce DiDonato had become unhealthy until I spent the first couple minutes of her appearance Saturday at Helzberg Hall hating on her new hairstyle.  Then she started singing.

I hung on every note of Ravel's sublime "Shéhérazade."  DiDinato's rendition of Strauss' century-old art-pop song "Morgen" was sweet.  Even a horrendously cloying arrangement of her encore of "Danny Boy" didn't spoil the fun.

Much to my surprise, almost no one in the audience of about 1,500 left after intermission.  I'm not much on Tchaikovsky, so I just closed my eyes during the second half of the concert and passively let the sound of his Symphony No. 5 wash over me.  The fact that the pretty stranger sitting next to me smelled amazing enhanced the dreamlike experience.

Here's The Kansas City Star's proper review of Friday's concert.


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I featured Various Blonde on KCUR's Local Listen segment last week.

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Joe Sample has died.  Here are my notes on his 2013 concert in Kansas City.

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Cosimo Matassa has died.  (Via BGO.)

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Peter Gutteridge of the Chills has died.  (Via Robert Moore.)

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Thanks in large part to Joe Boyd's production, Robyn Hitchcock's new album The Man Upstairs is my official September soundtrack.  Hitchcock's original material is fine and the covers of the Psychedelic Furs' "The Ghost In You" and the Doors' "The Crystal Ship" altered my perception of the songs.  RIYL: Nick Drake, wistfulness, Roy Harper.

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I know a few people who may lose their minds over Map to the Treasure: Reimagining Laura Nyro.  The impressive project overseen by Billy Childs isn't for me.  For the record, the track with Rickie Lee Jones and Chris Potter wins. 

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Jhené Aiko's Souled Out is a state of the art R&B album.  RIYL: Sade, the sound of 2014, Aaliyah.  Here's "The Pressure".

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Sergio Mendes is still cheesy after all these years.  Yet his new album Magic is significant because of the amazing lineup of guest vocalists ranging from Janelle Monáe to Milton Nascimento.

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J. Mascis' Tied to a Star sounds like a tribute to Bert Jansch.

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Roberta Invernizzi's Ferrandini: Al Santo Sepolcro is RIYL: Italian cathedrals, Joyce DiDonato, the 18th century.

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Justin Townes Earle acquits himself nicely on Single Mothers.  RIYL: Slaid Cleaves, depression, Mark Olson.

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Dark Comedy by Open Mike Eagle is my favorite nerdcore album of 2014.  RIYL: Das Racist, crossword puzzles, MC Lars.

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Much of the metal community is appalled by the ascent of King 810.  I like 'em.  Memoirs of a Murderer is RIYL: Slipknot, violence, Five Finger Death Punch.  Here's "War Outside".

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The performance by pianists Alice Sara Ott and Francesco Tristano on Scandale is exciting.  The bile elicited by a promotional video is also very entertaining.

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)