For a band that has spent the last ten years plumbing the depths of human misery, The Black Heart Procession sure do put on a fun live show. Playing to an eager crowd last Friday, the San Diego natives drew from various eras in their impressive catalog to assemble a set that was both a great introduction for newcomers and a satisfying playlist for the devoted.
High Time, as it opens with tribal rhythms and arithmetic chanting, will likely prompt listeners to think “Oh, another release from Thrill Jockey,” or “This is really freakin’ cool.”
Is there no limit to Jenny Lewis’ charm?
As front woman of indie-rock stalwarts Rilo Kiley, Lewis has infused each album with her distinctive persona, and in 2006 she and the Watson Twins released Rabbit Fur Coat, a terrific collection of songs that favored Americana-tinged fairy tales over the takeoffs and landings of her usual rock and roll. Now, we finally have Acid Tongue, the first officially solo album from Ms. Lewis, and it’s one of her greatest achievements to date.
In the past ten years, screenwriter Alan Ball has given us two of the most scathing examinations of the frailty of human nature in general, and American life in particular.
Ball’s screenwriting debut, American Beauty was nothing short of a cultural phenomenon when it was released, and though the film doesn’t quite hold up under close scrutiny, its strongest moments likely remain etched in the minds of viewers. His HBO series Six Feet Under benefited from having five years rather than two hours to examine human nature in all its contradictory glory, and its insights into what makes people tick tended toward subtle incrimination and unbearable heartbreak. In Towelhead, his film directing debut, Ball once again tries to walk the razor’s edge of placing flawed but sympathetic characters in shocking but realistic circumstances.
San Diego’s annual Street Scene festival was truly a sight to behold. A large section of San Diego’s downtown and West Village was sectioned off and made home to four stages, forty bands, and thousands upon thousands of voracious music lovers. From bros rolling joints to cute hipster chicks with flasks taped to their thighs, the surroundings were cramped, but everyone was in such a good mood that no one seemed to mind the lack of breathing room.