Tag: music

Some Notes from Boston Calling 2023

May 31, 2023 /

12:57pm

As I near the Harvard Athletic Complex for the third and final day of the Boston Calling Music Festival, I hear a Red Sox game playing on the radio. As a Yankees fan, I’m obligated to hate the Sox, yet instead, the broadcast gives the city a pleasant, cozy feel. I must be going soft.

1:24pm

Outside the Athletic Complex, I’m feeling a bit lost until I spot a guy about my age and an older woman (his mother?), both of them wearing King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard shirts. I follow them. These are my people.

1:36pm

As I combine with the tide of eager concertgoers, two things occur to me. First, that I must look like a complete tool, what with my clear drawstring bag packed with SPF 50 sunscreen, water bottle, and box of tissues. Second, that I forgot to pack my cough drops. (I’ve got some sort of cold.)

1:43pm

Juice opens the day on the Red Stage. They’re energetic and fun, with three lead singers and a guy on electric violin who’s absolutely nasty.

I try to navigate around a metal barrier protecting the center of the viewing area, but I’m informed that’s reserved for VIPs. Now I feel like a pleb.

1:43pm (continued)

Not even a full minute later, I leave this note for myself: “And by the way, where are the bathrooms?” I consult the festival app, but my phone is getting sluggish and I realize it must be overheating. So am I, since there’s a high of 87. Next priority: Finding something to drink.

1:53pm

I discover the bathrooms, which end up being a small village of portable toilets. On the way back to the Red Stage, I notice a woman in leather pants.

…Leather pants? I reiterate: It’s 87 degrees out. When does fashion supersede personal safety?

1:55pm

You know you’re in Boston when the line for the Dunkin Rewards Lounge is 100 people deep.

2:05pm

And now I purchase my first beverage of the day, a Truly Strawberry Banana hard seltzer. It costs $12.50, which really irks my inner cheapskate. What’s worse, it tastes not only bad, but slightly nauseating.

2:06pm

I find my way back to the stage to see Juice’s penultimate song. I decide their drummer looks like the son of David Bowie and Harry Styles.

2:19pm

There are some eccentric characters at this festival. Example: A shirtless guy with a green mohawk and tattoos of Pichu, Pikachu, and Raichu scattered across his back.

2:56pm

I next opt for a Twisted Tea, saving a whopping 50 cents compared to my previous purchase. This goes down much better.

3:30pm

The line for merch looks like a standing army. I give up on my idea of buying a new King Gizzard shirt.

3:41pm

I catch the Linda Lindas, again on the Red Stage (because it’s the only stage I can find). They urge people to “Stay hydrated!” Also, they ask, “Do y’all have a favorite kind of dinosaur?”

3:51pm

It’s hot as hell and everyone’s fighting for shade. I catch random snippets of conversation:

  • “Oh my god, I texted you, I said, ‘Where you at, bitch?'”
  • “I’m the Jacob that hates being called Jake.”
  • “Back in our day, it was weird to punch people in the face.”

4:02pm

Another Twisted Tea. I don’t feel so much as a buzz, probably because I’m instantly sweating out anything I put in.

4:14pm

I tally the shirts I spot. Gizzard count is at five, Taylor Swift count is at two. BTW, T-Swift isn’t playing at this event. I find it remarkable that her appearance in the film Cats hasn’t damaged her popularity whatsoever.

4:18pm

I search for the Blue Stage, because that’s where Gizz will be in about four hours. I catch a band called Brutus, a three-piece hard rock/heavy metal group that I like but don’t love. I sit on the grass with a bunch of other people, roasting like a turkey that’s paid for the privilege.

5:11pm

I return to my trusty Red Stage to find a band called Bleachers. With the singer’s tucked shirt and blue jeans, along with not one, but two saxophone players, I’m instantly reminded of the E-Street Band. Then the singer’s like, “I’m from New Jersey!”,  and he invites his dad onstage to play a song, and I’m wondering if his dad is actually Bruce Springsteen.

(Addendum: He’s not.)

5:55pm

There’s a hidden stage. It’s called the Orange Stage, and I find it more or less on accident. Ali McGuirk sings there with three backing musicians, and they’re outstanding. I enjoy them all so much I forget to take notes.

6:34pm

A hairy man passes me, points at my chest, and asks, “You ready? You ready? You ready?” It’s only when he passes that I realize he’s talking about Gizzard. (The shirt count is up to nine, by the way.)

6:47pm

The merch line has not moved. At all. For all I know, those are the same people who were there this morning, now forever locked in a Sisyphean struggle for a new t-shirt.

7:08pm

While standing between the Red and Green Stages waiting for Queens of the Stone Age, I see him again.

“You ready? You ready? You ready?”

This time I’m ready. I accept his fist bump and say something to the effect of, “Yeah!” My voice is reedy and hoarse, not from screaming, but from that annoying cold.

7:10pm

Re: Maren Morris: She’s very talented, but I just can’t do country. I’m sorry. I can’t.

She’s playing the Green Stage while I wait for Queens at the Red. There’s a definite schism between these two fan bases. Nobody on my side is clapping, or even reacting, to her.

7:20pm

Queens of the Stone Age hits the Red Stage, and it occurs to me that, as a musician, you’re frequently photographed with your mouth wide open.

8:01pm

I leave Queens early to get a good spot for Gizzard. That ends up being the front-right of the Blue Stage, about 10 rows back. My right shoe sticks to the concrete.

8:10pm

20 minutes until showtime and the band’s already here. They’re practicing a song I don’t recognize, though only a few of their instruments are plugged in; all I hear is Lucas on bass and Cavs on drums (we’re on a first name/nickname basis). Could they be debuting a new song?

8:20pm

Gizz goes live. People go crazy, including me. A swirling mosh pit emerges, and I back up to avoid it. At some point, I stop taking notes.

10:05pm

A mass swarm for the exits. Paramore is still playing on the Green Stage, yet this crowd doesn’t seem to care. I overhear someone behind me say, “Aderol and weed was the perfect mix for Gizz.”

Glad he had fun. I did, too, though without the assistance of substances (unless you count the Twisted Tea). They did indeed debut a new song, and I was one of the first people to see it.

Now I need to get some sleep (and possibly a shower). I steel myself for the walk back.

Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.

The Illusion of Effortlessness

April 5, 2021 /

talent

Jordan’s jump shot. Aretha’s voice. Shakespeare’s wit. Cage’s acting.

These people and their talents have one thing in common (except the last one—that was a joke). They all appear effortless.

As someone who loves writing, I’ve noticed this phenomenon in my chosen craft. I’m listening to an audiobook by Neil Gaiman right now, for example, and all I can think of after every story is, Wow. He’s so talented. I’ve gotten into the audio game of late, and even Neil’s reading feels effortless.

Of course, it isn’t. Mastery conceals years of practice spent honing a craft. We’ll never see the millions of shots Michael Jordan missed to perfect his form, nor the countless hours Aretha Franklin spent in church singing her favorite songs, nor the numerous revisions Shakespeare no doubt made to his plays. And even Nicolas Cage probably practices his freakouts.

This illusion can be understandably frustrating, especially for those striving for equivalent mastery. I want to become a full-time writer someday, so when I read a superb book that’s sold millions of copies, I always feel a little jelly.

Why can’t it be that easy for me? I wonder. Why can’t I have that kind of natural talent?

Here’s what I need to remind myself: Effortlessness is an illusion.

That’s not to say natural skill doesn’t exist; some musicians are born with perfect pitch, for example. But no one achieves mastery from innate skill alone. Practice, dedication, and perseverance are essential, no matter how effortless the final product might appear.

Why write this? Because I forget it all the time, which makes me think others do, too. Sometimes we envy people for their skills, all the while forgetting that we could achieve the same proficiency—or even surpass it—by working hard. Natural talent is places some further ahead than others before the starting gun sounds. But hard work can close the gap.

Next time you compare yourself to someone else, remember that effortlessness is an illusion. They got where they are by working hard—and that means you can do the same.

Unless you want to act like Nicolas Cage, that is. No amount of practice will get you there.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make readers laugh.

Wishbone Ash: The Best Band You’ve Never Heard Of

June 6, 2014 /

Image courtesy sam-musiclovers.blogspot.com.

Don’t ask me why, but I’ve recently developed the strange habit of logging into YouTube and searching for obscure rock bands from the 60’s and 70’s–the weirder the name, the better. Some of the best I’ve discovered so far include “Gandalf,” “Lucifer’s Friend,” and “Bulbous Creation” (what the hell a bulbous creation is, I have no idea). Okay, I admit, some of these sound really weird. But, as they say, don’t judge a book by its cover. In fact, it seems to me that even the bands that never made it in the 60’s are still better than most of the acts around today. But that’s just my opinion…

One of the better groups I found with this method is a four-piece by the name of “Wishbone Ash.” Two random nouns smushed together to make a band name? Sounds good to me.

A British rock band founded in 1970, Wishbone Ash originated as a power trio named “Tanglewood.” Their lineup featured Martin Turner on bass, Steve Upton on drums,  and Martin’s brother Glenn Turner on guitar. After Glenn quit, manager Miles Copeland III put out an ad for a replacement guitarist. Instead of one, they found two: Andy Powell and Ted Turner. After extensive auditioning, the band decided to keep both. As members of Wishbone Ash, Powell and Turner became a seminal twin-lead guitar pair, pioneering the style made famous by such bands as Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Thin Lizzy.

I chose 1972’s Argus to be my introduction to the band, partly because it’s their most commercially successful album and partly because it’s the only complete album of theirs on YouTube.

Forty-five minutes later, I was blown away. These guys absolutely rock.

Right from the opening track, I got a sense of a professional, tight group. The nine minute rock odyssey “Time Was” starts things off with some soft acoustic picking. Then we get some surprisingly tender vocal harmonies from Martin and Ted Turner (no relation there, by the way). Just when you wonder where the electric guitars are, both blast in and take things to a new level. It’s a solid track, and it showcases the band’s versatility.

Next comes the sombre “Sometime World,” followed by the cheery “Blowin’ Free.” This was a concert favorite of the band, and for good reason–the bouncy riff is instantly recognizable, and it gets stuck in your head.

I consider the next track to be a high point of the album: the seven-minute epic “The King Will Come.” Andy Powell’s guitar tone during the intro sounds almost like pipes, and Upton’s marching snare matches the feel nicely. After about a minute, the song explodes into a killer riff by Ted Turner. Equally impressive solos from both guitarists fill the song out. After listening to most of their catalogue, I remain convinced that “The King Will Come” is Ash’s best.

Afterward comes the reserved “Leaf and Stream;” a nice song, but probably the weakest track on the album when compared to the others. “Warrior” features even more impressive guitar work (notice a pattern here?), but the song that solidifies Powell and Turner as true guitar legends is the closing track, entitled “Throw Down the Sword.”

Priest and Maiden might have made the twin-lead style famous, but I argue that Wishbone Ash did it better than anyone. The solo at the end of this song proves it. For the final two minutes, we’re taken on a musical journey by two outstanding guitarists. It’s amazing how the solos entwine, then diverge, then rejoin one another, almost like threads of silk woven into one. The combination of emotive phrasing and impressive fretwork is what makes this dual-solo really shine. But if you truly want to get a sense of just how good it is, you’ll have to listen to it yourself.

Argus vaulted Wishbone Ash into my upper echelon of all-time favorite artists with just one listen. The band produced some other strong efforts throughout its career (check out Pilgrimage, There’s the Rub, and New England), but, in my opinion, none of them quite matched the brilliance of this album.

So do yourself a favor. Buy Argus and take a listen. You won’t regret it.

Mapex Voyager Drum Set

April 26, 2012 /

I bought a Mapex Voyager drum set, and I must say, I love it. Maybe it’s just my inner-thug talking here, but there’s something really fun about whaling away on something with wooden sticks. And what’s better, I can call it music.

The drums came at $500, a pretty good price for a beginner set, and especially one of high quality. Disclaimer: I bought from a local store, and I’m pretty sure that the owner was nice enough to give me the set at a discounted price. At any rate, I think they go for $600 normally. Still not too bad.

The drums are very nice. Solidly built, strong, and I’m sure they’ll last a long time. The hardware is great too. My one complaint is probably the cymbals. Mine are already beginning to warp, and I’ve only had the set for about a month. Of course, they aren’t exactly name brand, so I probably should’ve expected that. Anyway, I can buy new ones.

Setup was easy, and took less than an hour. They came with an instructional DVD that was quite helpful, and I had them up in no time. My only complaint was that you need to tune the drums, and I found the DVD rather unhelpful with that. I think I’m going to need a drummer to come in and help me get it right…

After setup, I went to work. Like any skill, it’s actually a lot harder than it looks. Guys in bands play like it’s second nature, but it takes a lot of practice. I played three or four hours a day for about a week straight, and it took me that long just to master a basic beat. I wonder how long it’ll take me to play my first drum solo…

Music these days…

April 26, 2012 /

I was watching the channel “Palladia” the other day, and it is quickly becoming my favorite station. They show old and new concerts pretty much all day, each one in high definition. It’s like stepping back in time to watch some of the greats. I’m talking Led Zeppelin, The Who, Pink Floyd, all of those rock and roll legends. Afterward, they showed footage from some modern concerts, and I must say, something struck me. When did computers start playing music?

Now I know I had a very similar post go up just a few days ago, but I feel like it’s something worth talking about. I’m sure I must not be the first person to notice this. How could we not? Most popular modern artists today have their music generated electronically rather than with instruments. There are even some who don’t really sing, but only appear to sing through the use of auto-tuning.

Does this mean that modern artists are less talented? Of course not. Many artists are excellent singers, songwriters and dancers. But think about this: how many modern mainstream artists can you name who can rip off a good guitar solo? Granted, there are still old bands out there with guys who could always do that, like Metallica and The Rolling Stones. But I’m not talking about them. I’m talking 21st century century bands. Do any modern guitarists from those bands measure up to their 20th century counterparts? The truth is, they do not.

So what’s become of popular artists playing real instruments? It may be that music itself has changed. Rock was certainly always a spectacle. Shows were just as much about the onstage antics as they were about the music. But today, it’s a different sort of show. Today it seems like the music takes a backseat to the performance. We have choreographed dancing to go with the singing, and crazy costumes to boot. Of course, we had that before, but never to the same degree.

I realize I must sound like a crotchety old man right now, but gosh darrnit, kids these days just don’t know good music when they hear it!

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