Luxury Condos Coming To Your Neighborhood Soon

"Luxury Condos Coming To Your Neighborhood Soon" was the title of a 2-record compilation of Hoboken bands released by then-Maxwells owner Steve Fallon... back in 1986. This gentrification business has been going on a long time, but there is some good news. Due to the recession and the monstrous slump in housing prices, you can now buy a 1-bedroom condo at the horrifically ugly prison-like Maxwell Place (seen above) for something in the range of the mid-$500,000's. Seriously, that's a steal; 1-bedrooms were going for $750,000 when the building first went up.

The obscene prices of Hoboken real estate make me wonder how I still have so many friends in town, some of whom I've known for 20 years or more. Yes, a few of them have trust funds and a few others were wise enough to buy property back when it was still dirt cheap; but an awful lot of my Hoboken friends are unemployed or marginally-employed musicians, and they still manage to live there. Yes, some of them have trust funds, and others married into money; but most of them are way less affluent than I am. Are there still rent-controlled apartments tucked away somewhere in-between the refurbished brownstones and sleek new skyscraper buildings? Must be. Billy Milano of S.O.D. was living in a converted bomb shelter in the basement of an industrial building on Jackson Street a few years ago; that I can see. But renting a nice apartment in Hoboken that you can actually afford these days ranks right up there with winning the lottery or finding out that lump on your breast is just a benign cyst after all.

I've often told the story of when I met the Bongos back in 1980; Rob Norris and Richard Barone were rooming together in a two-bedroom, 4th floor-walkup in Hudson Street brownstone just a block from Maxwells, and paying $88 a month rent. That same apartment - long ago upgraded into a luxury condo - sold last year for over $1 million.

So here's to you Gene The Singing Plumber, Yo La Tengo, Mike from WFMU, Dave from the Schramms, John Keim, Gerri Fallo, and everybody else I know who still manages to call Hoboken home without a Porsche out in front and a big fat overfunded 401K in the bank.

And as for the bloated excess of monstrosities like Maxwell Place, well, if there's a god in heaven, this economy will continue to tank until they're renting out those units to migrant workers and converting the bigger apartments into artists' lofts and rehearsal spaces for punk bands. Don't hold your breath though; I don't expect to see big signs advertising "Affordable Housing Coming To Your Neighborhood Soon" in Hoboken anytime before the Rapture turns the whole damn place to dust.

ROCK N ROLL GAS STATION – EPISODE 2
"Welcome To The New Depression - Songs About Crappy Jobs, Unemployment, and Being Broke"

Lost My Job - Alex Chilton - Feudalist Tarts

No Depression - Uncle Tupelo - Best of

One Meatball - Dave Von Ronk - And the tin pan ended and the story ended

Out of Work - Gary US Bonds - Best Of

Wasted & Ready - Ben Kweller - Sha Sha

Born To Do Dishes - The Queers - Don't Back Down

Mr. President, Have pity on the Workin' Man - St. Paul and his Coalition of the Winning

Middle Management - Bishop Allen - The Broken String

Fountains of Wayne - Bright Future In Sales - Welcome Interstate Managers

On The Clock - Methadones - Methadones-Copyrights-Split CD

Quit Your Job - Chixdiggit! - Born On the 4th Of July

Attaching Transmittals to Erection Drawings - Steinways - Gorilla Marketing

Val Emmich - Rat Race - Slow Down Kid

Ike Reilly Assassination - Fish Plan Rebellion - Poison The Hit Parade

Tris McCall - Lite Radio Is My Kryptonite If One Of These Bottles Happens To Fall

Jones Street Station - Tall Buildings - Overcome


If you'd like us to play your band or have any comments, please email us at Jim@Jerseybeat.com

I Wish I Was Ben Kweller

Ben Kweller, The Watson Twins, Jones Street Station – Town Hall, NYC, 2/25/09

A swanky concert venue like Town Hall offers a few things you don’t get at some dive bar or grungy rock club – a big stage, impeccable sound (at least for the headliner,) and a comfortable seat. What you lose is the immediacy of being right up against the stage (especially when, like me, you’re sitting in the upper balcony.) And to be honest, although I do appreciate the ability to sit down in between bands, I’d much rather watch live music standing up, so I can sing along and move a little bit. Town Hall is just… stodgy.

It’s also way more expensive than the clubs that Ben Kweller played when he was establishing himself as a solo artist in New York City back around the turn of the century; tonight’s $25 ticket mushroomed into a ridiculous $40 credit-card charge if you used Ticketmaster. (In the interest of full disclosure, I was on the opening band’s guest list. I had originally decided not to go when I tried Ticketmaster and saw what the final price would be, but then Jones Street Station's publicist was nice enough to extend an invitation.) The high ticket price probably also explains why the crowd skewed a bit older and grayer than the usual cadre of nerdy teens and indie/hipster 20-somethings who used to comprise Kweller’s core audience. For that money, you’d also think that your ears would get a break; but while Kweller’s set couldn't have been mixed any sweeter, the half-deaf house soundman had everything cranked much louder than it needed to be for the two opening acts.

Kweller was on though. Obviously very happy to be back in New York City, he gave one of the best performances I’ve seen from him in a long time. He even got choked up and teary on one song when he realized how much he missed NYC. (For those not in the know, Kweller, his wife, and baby son moved to Austin last year after about living in Brooklyn for about 8 years.) Ben worked in a few songs from all of his albums, as well as about 7 or 8 from his new album, Changing Horses. Kweller stuck with his trusty acoustic guitar (and switched for one set to an upright piano,) backed by bass, drums, and a really talented guy pedal steel/lap steel player who gave everything a tasty country twang.

The arrangements were terrific, in some cases surpassing the studio versions. Even though he’s approaching 30, Kweller still looks like a teenager and has a warm, engaging sweetness that never comes off as cloying or phony. He kicked off with “Walk On Me” from his first full-length, Sha Sha, ended with a gorgeous new arrangement of “Sundress,” and encored with “Penny On The Train Track.” While the band was rocking out on the finale, Kweller’s son Dorian (who’s almost three, I’d guess, and absolutely adorable) started dancing, pumping his fists, and doing somersaults at the side of the stage, just barely visible to the audience. And of course he got a bigger hand than daddy.

Highlights of the set included a remarkably affecting reading of “On My Way,” an absolutely stunning new arrangement of “Falling” (a really early Kweller song,) a fiercely rocking “Fight” from the new album, and a bunch of songs from Sha Sha including “Lizzy,” and “Family Tree.”

The Watson Twins – twin sisters Chandra and Leigh Watson, probably best known for their collaboration with Jenny Lewis – had the middle slot. They’re attractive young women with beautiful harmony vocals, backed by a jazz trio (bass, drums, and electric piano;) it’s just a little too American Idol for my tastes. They also came out later and sang two songs with Ben. (Note to bassist dude: In a swanky venue like Town Hall, it is inexcusable to perform in a white v-neck tee and baggy JC Penney jeans. Grow up, put on something presentable, and wash your hair while you're at it.)



Jones Street Station from Brooklyn - five clean-cut young guys in sports jackets - opened the show and completely won me over: singer/songwriter Danny Erker played a bevy of acoustic instruments (banjo, mandolin, guitar,) with co-lead vocalist Jonathan Hull adding bluesy harmonica; the rest of the lineup consisted of synthesizer, bass, and drums. JSS incorporate elements of bluegrass, folk, blues, country, and even a little gospel into their sound; they’ve got some very likable songs, impressive musicianship, and a very winning stage presence. At the end of their set, they all unplugged and walked to the front of the stage to sing “Tall Buildings,” an old John Hartford song, in exquisite 5-part harmony. In the cavernous expanse of Town Hall, that took some balls, but it couldn’t have sounded any sweeter.

Weekend Update

Gas Money - Photo by Alex Truby

Friday:
Took the train down to Trenton, where I met up with my old friend Howard and his wife Amy, and we drove a few miles to Bordentown NJ for a show at a record store called Record Collector. The store’s set up a small gallery with folding chairs and a very reasonable p.a., and it’s being booked by Randy Ellis, aka Randy Now, beloved by all New Jerseyans of a certain age for his groundbreaking bookings at the old City Gardens venue in Trenton. City Gardens was the kind of venue that didn’t just make fans; it changed lives. At one time, there were half a dozen kids in the immediate Trenton area doing their own fanzines, all of them hugely influenced by City Gardens shows and nearby college radio (WTSR at Trenton State and WPRB at Princeton.) Randy was in the middle of it all; from 7 Seconds to Flock of Seagulls to Fugazi to Green Day, not to mention career-making gigs for bands like the Bouncing Souls and Weston, Randy brought the rock to that big barn-like building in the No Man’s Land between New Brunswick and Philly. He never owned the building, just booked it, and probably lost money on shows more often than not. He’s a true unsung New Jersey legend, and he’s even had a song written about him (by the band 13, featuring former Jersey Beat scribe Sal Cannestra.)


The Dipsomaniacs - Photo by Alex Truby

So here’s Randy – a roly-poly elf with an indefatigable smile and a shock of white hair - still booking bands against all odds and having a whale of a time. Tonight he paired Trenton’s long-lived power-popsters the Dipsomaniacs, celebrating the release of a new full-length, with a Philly rockabilly combo called Gas Money who just blew the roof off the joint. With pedal steel, stand-up bass, and a lead singer playing a vintage Gretsch hollow-body guitar, Gas Money caromed through a toe-tapping set of honky-tonk, rockabilly, and country swing that had everyone in the place smiling from ear to ear. As much as I (in my advanced years) appreciate getting to sit down for a show, it’s almost a shame that there wasn’t more room, because Gas Money is a band that people should really be dancing to. The Dipsomaniacs – which feature Mick Chorba on guitar/vocals and my old buddy Paul Crane (Bastards of Melody, Bunnie England’s Karaoke Band) on guitar and backup vox – ripped through a set of originals from their long career, including a few tunes from the new album and some awesome covers (from Tommy Tutone’s “Jenny Jenny” to the Who’s “The Seeker.)”

Upcoming shows at Record Collector include a rare appearance by British rock legend Ian McLagan, Wall of Voodoo’s Stan Ridgway, and a solo performance by Greg Attonito of the Bouncing Souls. Visit their website for a full schedule and directions. Click here for a gallery of Alex Truby's photos from this event.

Saturday:


Roadside Graves

It seems like I don’t get to Williamsburg nearly as often as I used to, but Bedford Avenue hasn’t changed much; on a Saturday night, it still looks like an Epcot Center ethnic village built for Twenty-something Hipsters. And the Trash Bar hasn’t changed at all; it’s still got that disreputable low-rent skeevy vibe (that’s a good thing) carried across the East River from classic Lower East Side dives like CBGB and the Continental. You walk into a crowded, dark bar festooned with band stickers and peeling red paint; pay your cover, pass through a curtain, walk down a mysterious dark tunnel, and emerge in the back room: There’s even an “open bar” (by which they mean free PBR’s and well drinks) from 8 to 9 pm; $5 for a PBR and a shot after that. There’s a real stage (albeit a small one, with gear piled up all over the floor beside it,) a couple of rump-sprung sofas if you need to sit down, and a surprisingly good sound system (with an even more surprisingly diligent soundman.)


The Dead River Company

I'm there to see the headliners Roadside Graves, but arrive early enough to catch the Dead River Company, the first band (and, for good measure, a half hour of the open bar.) I also run into my buddy Fid of The Measure (SA), who enthusiastically confides how the Measure are all big Roadside Graves fans and do their best on every tour to turn their fans onto the Graves’ sterling alt-country popcraft. It doesn’t surprise me in the least to hear that kids who only listen to pop-punk or hardcore invariably appreciate the Graves, once they’re exposed to their music.

The Dead River Company turn out to be a very pleasant surprise – an 8-piece Elephant Six-like consortium with two lead singers who play guitars and mandolin, a percussionist who slaps a wooden box in lieu of drums, and numerous members who constantly switch instruments, playing flute, French horn, shakers, washboard, tambourine, and other instruments. Take this music out of Brooklyn and you’d call it anti-folk, a slapdash conglomeration of kitchen-sink instrumentation that mixes folk, country, punk, music hall, and pop. Their set has a deceptively freewheeling spirit – it looks like they're making it all up on the spot, except that every instrument integrates perfectly into each song and the band couldn’t be tighter. The band’s energy,high spirits, and evident camaraderie make it all seem quite theatrical. I’m definitely going to keep my eye on this band.

An unrelentingly awful indie band with a weird name and an annoying jazz diva on lead vocals comes next, followed by a so-so trio called Sons Of Sons who weren’t bad; there's just nothing about their set that makes me care if I ever see them again.


Roadside Graves Jeremy and John


And finally the Roadside Graves take the stage, configured these days as a six-piece – frontman John Gleason, co-vocalist Jeremy Benson on guitar and percussion, backed by Mike DeBlasio on electric piano, Rich Zilg on acoustic guitar, Dave Jones on bass, and Colin Ryan on drums. Although the current lineup lives scattered throughout the NYC/NJ area, the band calls Metuchen home; partly because several members grew up there, but mostly because that’s where you'll still find their drummer and rehearsal space. “Besides,” jokes Gleason, “we didn’t want to be known as just another New Brunswick band, even though we play the Court Tavern all the time. Nobody comes from Metuchen.”

And nobody sounds quite like the Roadside Graves either. New Jersey’s seldom thought of as America’s heartland, but the music the Graves play is pure Americana; heartfelt, folksy, filled with major chords and vivid imagery. When Northerners play country music, they’re usually accused of appropriating tropes and twang from the American South; but with Roadside Graves, the inspiration comes from the American west. Not only does the band’s music echo the country/western motifs of wannabe “cowboys” like Gram Parsons and Robbie Robertson, but the Graves sing about the west all the time too. For Gleason - whose tales of dysfunctional families, broken relationships, evil-hearted women, and soul-sucking honkytonk whisky often paint a bleak picture of life - the American West embodies some idyllic other place – it’s not here, it’s there, and because it’s not here, it just may be better. If the Graves’ rustic Americana suggests music you’d hear played on someone’s back porch, it’s a porch on the prairie, not the delta or the bayou.

Tonight, the band incorporates tracks from all of its albums as well as previewing a few songs from its forthcoming 18-track opus My Son’s Home, due in April on Autumn Tone Records. The band’s dropped its second drummer (for a while, they were touring as a 7-piece) but Benson adds a percussion rig (snare, maracas, cymbal, and some old junk he bangs on energetically,) which he’ll play on some songs instead of ripping out one of his signature guitar leads. Gleason – lanky, focused, trancelike when he’s singing, but still loose enough to show off the skinny jeans he’s bought just for this Brooklyn gig – completely surrenders himself in his songs, occasionally turning his back to the audience and doing a shuddering jittery jig, completely lost to the beat.

The band opens with “Family And Friends,” the leadoff track from 2007’s No One Will Know Where You’ve Been, and a look around the room confirms that this is indeed a family affair, with fans who cut across the indie/hipster/punk continuum all fervently singing along.

Songs from the upcoming album include "Father Sat Me Down," with Gleason reminiscing about his dad's words of wisdom, and the downbeat "Ruby," which overflows with familiar Roadside Graves tropes - angels, death, the radio, and sex.

“West Coast,” arguably the band’s most anthemic number and part of the two-song set closer tonight, has nothing to do with Hollywood; rather, it’s a jangly ballad about the resiliency of the human spirit, with its singalong chorus, “I’ve got a heart that won’t quit, won’t break.” The band closes with “Radio,” a hymn to the sounds that sustain us on those endless nights of cross-country drives, as one station fades into another and it all adds up to America.



The ‘Graves’ seamless integration of guitars with electric piano and organ (courtesy of Mike DeBlasio’s Korg,) along with Gleason’s quavery, impassioned vocals (and the group’s Jersey roots,) often lead to comparisons with the Boss, although The Band (and, as Tris McCall once noted , the Grateful Dead) hit the mark as well. What all those groups share, of course, is a dedication to timeless major-chord melodies, riveting harmonies, and vivid, memorable songwriting. Yes, the Roadside Graves love America; now it’s only a matter of time until America returns the favor.

Click here for a gallery of Jim Testa's photos from this event.

You can read Jim Testa's review of the Roadside Graves from the Newark Star Ledger here.