two 2006 retro concert reviews

LIVE FROM LONDON - MARCH 21 AT BOWERY BALLROOM
By Diana P. Olano

I'm a complete anglophile. Going to Live from London showcase on March
21 at Bowery Ballroom was a no-brainer. I love music. I love British
people. I love British people who make music. And Bowery Ballroom is
probably the best venue in the city. As expected, it was not a
disappointing evening.

The first Londoner up that night was a rapper by the name of Plan B.
With a guitar in hand and a drummer to back him up, Plan B went off on
tirade of the troubles of living in the London ghettos. I'm not
opposed to rap and music of the like, but Plan B and his lyrics of
prostitutes, drug addictions, sexually transmitted diseases, and other
more depressing subjects made me a bit suicidal. At least his singing
was a nice calm in between the abrasive shouts for AIDS prevention.

Boy Kill Boy was up next, and from what friends had told me, they were
going to be fun. And that's exactly what they were: fun, with typical
Brit-indie pop songs that I'm a bit tired of hearing, actually. Their
single "Suzie" had most of the crowd singing along, but during other
songs, I got kind of, um, bored. Too many bands are playing the same
style. Boy Kill Boy are just another.

However, I would have rather taken another set from Boy Kill Boy then
endure what was about to follow.

Towers of London are a wannabe Sex Pistols band but come off trying
too hard, with their teased hair (I wonder how long they spent hair
spraying it), matching wife beaters, and beat up chuck taylors. The
songs were nothing special. With a name like "Towers of London", I
didn't actually expect something worth hearing. And the band, which
apparently weren't wanted for this showcase, gave it to us like we
actually knew who they were, and then some.

You're not supposed to fear for your safety at a show. When the lead
singer swung the mic all over the front row and barely missed
clobbering someone in the audience, I got a bit scared. When he tossed
a chair around the stage, I got a little more scared. Luckily, that's
as far as it went. Until they ended their set, that is. In trying to
aim at a man who was telling the band off (and rightfully so), the
guitarist kicked the mic stand, missed his heckler, and hit an
innocent bystander on her forehead. I can still hear her wailing as
she was dragged out of the main floor, grabbing her bleeding head. I
hope she sued the douchebags.

Headliners The Rakes came on shortly after and saved the night.
They're in the vein of the British dance bands that have recently come
out of the woodwork, but they still remain distinct in their sound,
lyrics, and performance.

Lead singer Alan Donahoe flailed and twitched his way through an
energized setlist that kicked off with "Terror!" and never let down.
The audience, which I noticed consisted of more Brits than usual,
danced, pogoed and chanted lyrics throughout the night. Someone
eventually threw a beer cup at Donahoe, which landed directly on his
chest. I think it's a British thing. Shows appreciation or something.
Whatever. The Rakes reminded us scenester New Yorkers why deep down,
we all want to be a little English: They know how to have a good time.

-30-

LIVE FROM LONDON - MARCH 21 AT BOWERY BALLROOM
By Diana P. Olano

I'm a complete anglophile. Going to Live from London showcase on March
21 at Bowery Ballroom was a no-brainer. I love music. I love British
people. I love British people who make music. And Bowery Ballroom is
probably the best venue in the city. As expected, it was not a
disappointing evening.

The first Londoner up that night was a rapper by the name of Plan B.
With a guitar in hand and a drummer to back him up, Plan B went off on
tirade of the troubles of living in the London ghettos. I'm not
opposed to rap and music of the like, but Plan B and his lyrics of
prostitutes, drug addictions, sexually transmitted diseases, and other
more depressing subjects made me a bit suicidal. At least his singing
was a nice calm in between the abrasive shouts for AIDS prevention.

Boy Kill Boy was up next, and from what friends had told me, they were
going to be fun. And that's exactly what they were: fun, with typical
Brit-indie pop songs that I'm a bit tired of hearing, actually. Their
single "Suzie" had most of the crowd singing along, but during other
songs, I got kind of, um, bored. Too many bands are playing the same
style. Boy Kill Boy are just another.

However, I would have rather taken another set from Boy Kill Boy then
endure what was about to follow.

Towers of London are a wannabe Sex Pistols band but come off trying
too hard, with their teased hair (I wonder how long they spent hair
spraying it), matching wife beaters, and beat up chuck taylors. The
songs were nothing special. With a name like "Towers of London", I
didn't actually expect something worth hearing. And the band, which
apparently weren't wanted for this showcase, gave it to us like we
actually knew who they were, and then some.

You're not supposed to fear for your safety at a show. When the lead
singer swung the mic all over the front row and barely missed
clobbering someone in the audience, I got a bit scared. When he tossed
a chair around the stage, I got a little more scared. Luckily, that's
as far as it went. Until they ended their set, that is. In trying to
aim at a man who was telling the band off (and rightfully so), the
guitarist kicked the mic stand, missed his heckler, and hit an
innocent bystander on her forehead. I can still hear her wailing as
she was dragged out of the main floor, grabbing her bleeding head. I
hope she sued the douchebags.

Headliners The Rakes came on shortly after and saved the night.
They're in the vein of the British dance bands that have recently come
out of the woodwork, but they still remain distinct in their sound,
lyrics, and performance.

Lead singer Alan Donahoe flailed and twitched his way through an
energized setlist that kicked off with "Terror!" and never let down.
The audience, which I noticed consisted of more Brits than usual,
danced, pogoed and chanted lyrics throughout the night. Someone
eventually threw a beer cup at Donahoe, which landed directly on his
chest. I think it's a British thing. Shows appreciation or something.
Whatever. The Rakes reminded us scenester New Yorkers why deep down,
we all want to be a little English: They know how to have a good time.

-30-