The History of Rock ‘n’ Roll from Alan Freed to Ahmet Ertegun came to a whiplashed halt on Wednesday night, sending Jason Castro soaring dread first through the windshield of American Idol.

Cleveland’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame fashioned a list of The 500 Most Influential Rock Songs and, aside from Archuleta (who can make anything sound like modern adult contemporary), the contestants hung themselves with too much choice rope. 

David Cook proved to be a bland Simon Le Bon with a wholly toothless version of Hungry Like The Wolf, while his second choice of The Who’s Baba O'Riley left room for his signature, octave jumping yelp. Paula thanked him gushingly for sharing his soul and Simon flashed a flirty smile.

Syesha Mercado was a Proud Mary dressed in Tina’s glittery mini-dress, doing the dance moves, and shrieking out the chorus.  The entire homage (including leg jerks and hip swivels) was a bit like watching a little girl in her mother’s heels try to run a 5K while singing the Star Spangled Banner.

The second song take-on was Sam Cooke’s A Change Is Gonna Come and though she looked lovely and sounded fairly good, I just don't believe her when she sings.  Randy agreed with me.  She cried and showed a lot of cleavage.

Jason "Puff Puff Give" Castro clichéd himself with an animated rendition of I Shot The Sheriff.  Who knew he was such a big Eric Clapton fan...   Randy didn't get it at all.  Paula liked the showmanship.  Simon thought it was an “atrocious, first round audition massacre,” stating incredulously, "I don't know what you're thinking?!!" 

"I was thinking Bob MARley!" said the Travolta muppet.

Carrying on with the Bob theme, Castro chose Dylan's Mr. Tambourine Man as door number two and biffed the chorus on round one.  Jingle Jangle baby.  Simon told him to pack his suitcase.

Refreshingly dressed in age-appropriate garb, David “Sick Balls Chopper” Archuleta sang the Ben E. King classic Stand By Me, after confessing that he’s only ever performed the song in his own bedroom to an audience of dogs.  Randy was pleased that he’d “brought the hot mad vocals,” and creepily commended him for “caressing each word” of Love Me Tender.

They stood in a diagonal, firing-squad pose awaiting their fate as the show opened last night.  Nearly 51 million votes were tallied and, in an effort to put people more on edge, the final four began with an awkward group sing of Reelin’ In The Years by Steely Dan.

Further milking their licensing access of the Lennon/McCartney songbook, we watched footage of the AI fab four as they boarded a private jet to Las Vegas where they took in a show of Cirque du Soleil: LOVE. 

Back in the studio, David Archuleta was the first to find safety on the sofa, followed by David Cook, followed by more filler.

The hour held such magical treats as a Ford commercial showing the quartet dressed as brightly colored matadors in tight pants, a weirdly disco Maroon 5 live spot that saw Adam Levine singing Rihanna’s parts in forced falsetto, and a decent rock joint by Bo Bice and his flowing unicorn hair. 

Syesha rolled on through, but it was one toke over the line for Castro.

Next week, 3 is magic number.

Get to know your idols… 
Visit the LA.COM American Idol Archive and catch up on Season 7!

Photo by McLovin via Castrocopia

Les Poissons... Les Poissons...
Hee Hee Hee... Hoh Hoh Hoh...
Now I stuff you with bread
It don't hurt 'cause you're dead
And you're certainly lucky you are
'Cause it's gonna be hot
In my big silver pot
Toodle loo mon poisson
Au revoir!

Even if you hate progressive rock Canadians on a normal basis, you might just remember how awesome it was to groove to that big noise synthesizer in the back seat of your Dad’s Bonneville.

And for those who missed Tuesday’s installment of Geddy Lee’s white streaks of pulled vocal taffy, Neil Peart’s percussion odysseys, and Alex Lifeson’s G-force (see gear list) at the brand new Nokia Theatre L.A. Live, FEAR NOT, my friends. The classic rock magicians/musicians known simply as Rush, will return on Thursday night.

Same place.  Same time.  Snag those tickets here, before they go out of style.  
 

Rush Refreshments to Listen to:

Rush | Snakes and Arrows Tour
@ Nokia Theatre L.A. Live
Thursday, May 8th
8:00 PM
Map / Tickets
 

PHOTO GALLERY

While Chromeo and Justice offered pulsating, scenester action in the backlot tents, it was Roger Waters who (looking quite like Richard Gere these days; Richard Gere with crazy eyes) wowed the final night of Coachella, closing the festival with so much bang that it warrants it’s own review.

In fact, Mr. Gere Waters was so effective in his implementation of old-school concert values that he was able to transform everyone's DNA back to the warm innocence of a teen age.  I’m sure of it.  What’s more, he made me remember that sometimes I forget stuff.  Like how much I love Pink Floyd.  And funnel cake.  And sitting on the grass.

A stage-length screen playing a nearly motionless video greeted the arriving crowd.  The scene showed a retro radio on a desk, with a bottle of scotch on one side, a model airplane atop the box, and an ashtray near the center.  The pre show music was controlled by the video’s enormous, disembodied hand that would periodically come into frame and change the station. 

While the video hand was holding a smoldering cigarette, the production crew used massive fans to pump real smoke to the actual stage.  Once set, Roger Waters appeared in the flesh with a pointed observation, “so ya, thought ya, might like to, go to the show.” 

Then the man went pyro.  For over two hours we were party to glittery fireworks, bomb flares, and flame throwers to heaven.  He played Pink Floyd standards like Mother, Shine On You Crazy Diamond, Wish You Were Here, and Sheep all in the first set, along with a few solo works. 

During a brief intermission the mellow but excited masses were put at ease by the tranquil sounds of rainforest rivers and chirping birds coming out of the speakers.  Waters reappeared quickly and began set two -- a complete live rendering of the 1973 masterpiece, Dark Side of the Moon.

Allowing the pressures and protocols of adulthood to disappear into the crowd of interpretive hippie dancers, I sat on the grass to the left of the stage and ate funnel cake with (a charming and talented friend who also happens to be) a very cute boy.  The evening was exquisite.  Untroubled and uncluttered, the night filled with the rare atmosphere of community, the excited anticipation of possibility, and a sense of significance that sparks just long enough for you to notice before disappearing.

And speaking of disappearing, did you hear about the pig?  Whether on purpose or by accident, the giant inflatable pig (covered in scary political graffiti, an Obama endorsement, and helpful messages like “Don’t be led to the slaughter” and “Fear builds walls”), got loose after a parade around the field, and floated beyond the beams of the laser pyramid.

Waters stated sadly, “That’s my pig,” as his pet balloon drifted up up and away.  The $10,000 reward and lifetime supply of Coachella tickets will be split by the lucky pig finders who discovered Sir Swine in two pieces near their neighboring La Quinta homes.

The evening boasted a sharp sound mix with whizzing effects and startling voices that seemed to come from every part of the sky.  Vera/Bring the Boys Back Home wins as an explosive (literally) high point of the 5 song encore, and the live-action 3D refracting prism & laser rainbow put all planetariums to shame.

See you on the dark side of the moon.

Photos by Lisa Brenner

Day 3 was as hot as a Tabasco bath.

After missing some of the earlybird acts (thanks to a post-Prince after party that was held in a dustbowl at the Indio airport til dawn), the day began with the electrified gypsy sounds of Gogol Bordello.  Last time I attended one of their punk rock bar mitzvahs, I was kicked in the head from the front, a schmuck hurled himself over a barricade and jumped on me from behind, and my camera got smashed into tiny morsels.  That happened in a crowd 1/8 the size; I decided to watch this GB show from the flipside of the field.

Metric was next, and god bless her, it takes a special brand of woman to go braless in a metallic, space-romper in the middle of the desert in the middle of the day.  Emily Haines and her combat babies went synthrock all over our asses with a set of new oldies and old newbies.  A few tech difficulties with the Pro One keyboard only added to the charm of the show.  You might recognize Haines and guitarist James Shaw from other bands such as Broken Social Scene or various contributions to Stars, but they’ll always be Metric to me.

Drippy hangover music ala My Morning Jacket provided an appropriate stickyness for the late afternoon heat that followed.  Accompanied on stage by a stuffed bear wearing a poncho, Jim James went forth like a man possessed, bringing 70s-vibe, southern jam, indie rock to the Coachella disciples. 

Love and Rockets on the Outdoor Stage had no new tale to tell, but sounded good doing it.  Though I’d already made my way to Sia’s tent set, I heard the former Bauhaus boys donned their alter-ego Bubblemen suits for a few final numbers.

Sia sang songs both sexy and sweet.  One day I will write a review of the Zero 7 vocalist using ONLY words that start with the letter S.  I can do it.  Just give me time.  The Aussie pixie with perfect pitch brought along her glowing flower stage props and blacklight-friendly outfits to the costume party.

While Chromeo and Justice offered pulsating, scenester action in the backlot tents, it was Roger Waters who (looking quite like Richard Gere these days; Richard Gere with crazy eyes) wowed the final night of Coachella, closing the festival with so much bang that it warrants it’s own review.

Coachella 2008 proved to be the best yet incarnation of itself, but next year is the festival’s 10th anniversary.  Start packing…

Photos by Lisa Brenner

PHOTO GALLERY

His name is Prince. And he is funky. That is all you need to know about Day 2.

No one heard Purple Rain at the House of Blues.  And you are more likely to get struck twice by lightening in your own bed than you are to hear Let's Go Crazy at one of the exclusive Green Door jazz shows.  Little Red Corvette?  At the Roosevelt Hotel?  Maybe for $1500 per ticket.

Guess what we got?  All three.  The screaming, leaping, singing, smooshed thousands took to the main stage of the Empire Polo Field on Saturday night and were treated to an epic set of royal rock.  Coachella is Prince's house now, and he absolutely killed it.  Curfews be damned, he played into the 1am hour indulging the mob with sonic pampering of purple proportions.

The artist formerly known as the artist formerly known as Prince brought his full arsenal of smirky, sex appeal and electric power to the new generation.  His signature on-stage entourage was in top form, his wardrobe changes, impeccable, and I just drooled a little on the keyboard as I began to recall the set list. 

In addition to the above mentioned mega-hits he gave the adoring minions a little Cream, took a time machine to 1999 (or 1982, but who's counting) and even put some Seven action out there.  Morris Day joined for Jungle Love, and the feverish drum stylings of Sheila E and her Glamorous Life made an appearance early in the set before Prince went on to gracefully school the biggest (new and old) bands in the world.

Radiohead whooo?  I'm Prince.  I cover Radiohead songs.  This is going to be so wicked I won’t even have to use the word "Creep" in my version.  The Beatles?  Yeah, I do that.  I invented The Beatles.  Come Together, if you catch my drift.* 

*This dialogue was implied.

Then he chanted, “War!  No more!” and sheepishly wriggled around the stage in squealy glee until my heart swelled to twice its size and exploded. 

Oh right, yes, the other bands…  Thanks.  If you took all the Day 2 bands and handed them to a mad scientist, the amalgam might look a little Lambda, but as individual artists, it was a stellar showing.

Portishead gave a surprisingly powerful and commanding performance that far exceeded expectation.  Boyz Noize was so loud it made the inside of my nose vibrate and go numb.  The Brazilian trio Bonde Do Role was a curious arrangement of flailing and wailing and mixing and yelling (fyi, Fifa 2008 loves them.  Nokia loves them.  Diplo loves them.  And you should love them too).  Cold War Kids had big, midday crowd at the main stage, and St. Vincent urged safe sex as she got mellow and pretty with her plum tights and red guitar.

Hot Chip harnessed their nerd power for an impressive desert dance party.  As a thank you, fans responded by nearly trampling each other to dust.  You know how you’ve read countless articles about people getting flattened at soccer games and bone crushed against barricades at public events…  Add this to the list.  Add M.I.A.’s set to that list as well.  She seemed a little winded on Saturday night but set her tent on fire anyway.  No small feat for woman dressed in a vinyl fishing net with rhinestones for eyes.

Now is the time at Coachella when we dance.  When it was Kraftwerk’s turn at the main stage, the foursome stood motionless at their computer podiums and coolly demonstrated how they’ve influenced nearly every genre of art since 1970.  These electronic pioneers continue to prove that no one does robot music like the Germans.  With giant screen graphics of bicycles and pills, the Moog masters hypnotized the night crowd, launching every soul into the retro-futuristic, industrial cosmos.

The following wonders await you in the Day 2 Photo Gallery...

Bands

- Boyz Noize
- Bonde Do Role
- Cold War Kids
- St. Vincent
- Hot Chip
- Kraftwerk
- M.I.A.
- Portishead
- Motherf***ing PRINCE!!!!!!!

Trendwatch

- Thick, monochromatic sunglasses
- Headbands
- Seasonally inappropriate boots
- 70s running shorts/speedos
- Metallic bikinis
- Parasols

Photos by Lisa Brenner

Hello desert people!  Coachella 2008 is officially in orbit with a Friday line up that included, among other spectacles, my future husband Jack White. 

Vampire Weekend brought afternoon afro-pop to the preppies and ivy league hip set,  Tegan & Sara took dual action control of the massive main stage (which is remarkable considering that the first time I saw them play was in a tiny conference room on the FOX lot), The National's bruised and smoky rock was unexpectedly superior in a daylight setting, and The Raconteurs just plain melted the desert. 

Their set rocked radical with double big guitars, power arrangements that wailed retro and hard, sweet and screaming vocals, blessedly indulgent old timey effects and even a good down home call and response during Steady As She Goes.  Shades of Black, from their new record Consolers of the Lonely, was deadly live.

After catching a bit of the bouncy (and hard to capture...you'll see...) stylings of the red jumpsuited, electrodance outfit Datarock, it was time for the most surprising success of the day, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings.  They win, no contest, for best audience participation.  And yet I get the feeling most of the audience was hearing them for the first time.  It doesn’t really matter.  It’s a love at first sound kind of thing. 

We all did the time warp with Ms Sharon Jones who lives in an ageless soul dimension where mortals are not permitted.  She channels un-gimmicky 60s Motown and 70s soul as if it were as natural as brushing her teeth.  And the people turned up in kind to give praise.  The sweaty worshipers packed the tent spilling out onto the grass, hands in the air, giving thanks for the music that moves from your toes to the top of your head. 

Black Lips closed the night with an offering of messy, loud, neo-psychedelic, retro-rock that was as fascinating and odd as they were.  One of the gents looked as if he was about to go yachting, another was tall and lanky with gold grillz, the drummer looked like a clean cut everydude, and there was also a giant mustache in play (SIDE NOTE:  I saw perhaps the best t-shirt of the day that read “Guns Don’t Kill People.  People With Mustaches Kill People.”).

Day 2 is upon us…  Stay tuned…  and check out all of our full Coachella coverage.

Malibu is no stranger to secrets.  For example, did you know it’s hiding a gorgeous music venue?  The Malibu Performing Arts Center (MPAC), sitting low on a hill near Webb Way & PCH, seats an intimate 500 guests, and gives off a private, art-opening vibe.  The stage area feels like someone’s personal, state of the art, performance hall -- if that person was, say, a rich sultan with understated taste and a lot of friends, or perhaps a zillionaire director who likes to hold live theatrical interpretations of blockbuster films for an elite group of associates.  I suppose “special and accessible” are also fine ways to describe the theater.

Last night, KCRW debuted a new, “Session Series” at MPAC, showcasing the extraordinary talent of station sweetheart, Sia.  The one-named Aussie took the stage with a ten year old co-vocalist and a five man band.  They began the show by emerging victorious, dressed as neon flowers and happy faces, accompanied by Bill Conti’s, “Gonna Fly Now,” Rocky Theme.

Their energy was matched by an eager crowd of station members who gobbled up tickets for this unique performance in less than 7 minutes.  This was not an industry showcase, these were fans.  KCRW Music Director and on-air personality Nic Harcourt announced the evening, and the event was recorded for posterity as well as streamed lived for the internet viewers at home.

She opened strong with the quirky and catchy Buttons, followed by the peppy track, Little Black Sandals.  Much like her El Rey show in January, Sia was an exuberant pixie, singing her guts out in the cutest way imaginable.  She makes impossible runs seem effortless while managing the complex duality of being both sexy and silly.

Pleading chillingly during Lentil, “I never meant to let you down,” Sia quickly switched the mood to encourage hecklers and banter before starting back up with a childlike sway and a dainty sip of beer.  During a particularly excited moment, she charmingly forgot the lyrics to Sunday after seeing a couple dancing in their seats. 

Nic Harcourt reemerged for an informal, free form Q&A with Sia on the stage sofa.  We learned that Ms. Furler is from Adelaide Australia, when she was three years old a lit match-head flew into her eyeball, that her father is known for singing songs about meat pies, her mother is an art historian/bass player, her uncle was in Men At Work, and she used to listen to a cassette loop of Chrissie Hynde vocal runs from Don’t Get Me Wrong on side A, and an instrumental loop of Light My Fire from The Doors on side B.

She also gave a brief career history starting with the “jazz, funk, acid house explosion” of her early 90’s band Crisp.  She followed with tales of her tanked-out London solo efforts and a sports obsessed manager that fortuitously paired her up with Zero 7.

She finished up the show with a handful of additional originals.  One sounded incredibly like the Knight Rider theme, and she also offered up the jewel of Six Feet Under, Breathe Me .  A few Zero 7 numbers (Destiny, Sommersault) also found their way to the set.

Future KCRW/MPAC shows will be announced soon.