Music

The audience stood for a standing ovation as soon as Brian Wilson came onstage and before a single note was played—deservedly so. Wilson is a sacred cow in American music. But, after last night I’m left wondering if his tour should be put out to pasture.

At first I thought it was just the sound mixing—instruments often over powered Wilson’s weakened voice—but the mixing seemed fine when the rest of the band (ten of them!) joined in harmonies. And then I thought maybe it was the weird juxtaposition of listening to surf music while being in a grand hall and seated. It felt strange to not be on my feet and dancing to “Salt Lake City” and “I Get Around.”

The show started with “California Girls” and went through several Beach Boys hits before for all intents and purposes Wilson checked out and former Beach Boys Al Jardine and Blondie Chaplin started running the show. They had the added help of Jardine’s son Matthew to hit the high notes, literally, that Wilson could no longer reach. The final song of the first set was a misplaced Chaplin number “Wild Honey,” which stylistically was more of a nod to the guitarist’s time with the Rolling Stones than his time with the Beach Boys, and during which Wilson ambled off the stage mid-song. And it felt like he never fully returned.

The second set of the show was dedicated to Pet Sounds, which is widely regarded as one of the best albums ever made, and the tour is a celebration of the album’s 50^th anniversary.

Wilson and Jardine walked the audience through anecdotes about each song as they played, with help from the younger Jardine on vocals for many of the tunes. But throughout the show the band had to slow their tempo to allow Wilson time to catch up with his lyrics—often delivered flat and in a broken cadence. And the Pet Sounds portion of the show is the part I was most looking forward to— and the part I have the most emotional attachment to.

While I was shocked at the difference between the quality of this show compared to Wilson’s show at Red Butte in the summer of 2015, and in spite of all of the observations above, I still  cannot give Brian Wilson a bad review. He is still Brian Wilson and I am still just a girl with no musical background who is paid to give her opinion about concerts in a mid-sized American city. He still wins. He’s still great. And if he comes to town again I’ll go see him. But my expectations will be managed accordingly, because as it turns out, even greatness slows down.

Greatest of all time. It’s become such a common phrase that the kids even have an acronym for it these days—GOAT. But, even though the term has come to be hyperbolic—make no mistake—sometimes it still applies. And it definitely applies to Pet Sounds.

Pet Sounds, of course, is the Beach Boys album. The brainchild of Brian Wilson. And it changed the everything with its orchestral movements and sweeping harmonies. Starting with the opening of the first track “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” the entire album serves to notify the listener that The Beach Boys had grown up—that Brian Wilson had grown up.

But the album almost never was. Band member Mike Love didn’t like it. The album’s name came from Love’s admonishment that only “the ears of a dog” would like the album. And the band’s record company almost didn’t release it at all. But, history has been kind to Pet Sounds. Legendary producer George Martin even said that without it there would have been no Sgt. Pepper album from the Beatles.

And now Pet Sounds is 50. And Brian Wilson is touring (with more of the original Beach Boys than the Beach Boys that currently tour with Mike Love—who, it bears reminding, is the actual worst). And on this tour he will be playing, in addition to many Beach Boys hits, Pet Sounds in its entirety.

Wilson played a Red Butte Garden show in 2015, and though he’s definitely slowed down and needed help on and off the stage, Wilson behind a white piano backed by Al Jardine and Blondie Chaplin was a welcome sight to the crowd.

Expect another enthusiastic reception when Wilson plays Abravanel Hall on Wednesday night. I bet he’ll even play “Salt Lake City.” Tickets are still available here.

For my generation, the mixtape was ubiquitous. It was the clearest declaration of love one could give. It was giving a piece of your soul to someone on a 90-minute Memorex. And it was arduous task. You had to own the tape the songs were originally on or, at the very least, have recored them from the radio (which took way more work than you might think, kids). And you had to have the proper equipment—namely, a double tape deck. And in the end you had this thing. This tangible, beautiful thing that proved your love. This wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was not stored in a cloud.

When I was in college in Kentucky, I had a friend who was working through an awful rip-your-heart-out break-up from his high school girlfriend. He and I spent hours upon hours discussing the songs he should put on the mixtape he would create to woo her back into his arms. And as friendships like ours often go, he and I lost touch. But, I saw him on campus one day a few months later and I asked him, “Hey, what ever happened to that mixtape you were making for Josephine? What did you put on it? Did it work?” And he smiled at me coyly and said, “I just put James Brown’s ‘Sex Machine’ on it, over and over again,” and after a pause, “We’re back together!”

That, ladies and gentleman, is the power of the mixed-tape.

So, when this Craigslist missed connection was sent to me, I stood at attention.

“I was looking for blank cassette tapes at the thrift store to make some mix tape of my own when I found yours.
Labeled only on the tape itself, The All Mixed Up on one side and Fall In Love With Me on the other. Non descriptive J Card.
These are the kind of thrift store finds I always dream of. I bought your mix tape plus a blank one for a dollar and went on my way.
I figured I’d at least have a cool story to tell my friends if it all went badly, but never expected my own emotional response to the tape when I listened to it. There was no track listing, which made the mystery all the more intriguing. You never know what you’re gonna find on a blank mix tape. I definitely fell for you by the time I started side B, A Smiths cover song leaked over from side A. And by the time the Yo La Tengo track started to play as a parting gift on side B I knew I had to find you. I’m not sure how your relationship played out, or who that tape was meant for, but I feel like it’s only fitting for me to give back to you. Mix tapes are very sentimental. And even if you don’t want the tape back, I want you to at least know it’s in good hands. You might not even exist, or you might exist in a completely different time. And that’s ok. I found your sonic diary in the same batch, some recordings of a lecture on side A and other bits and pieces that go on for 20 minutes, travels and sounds you’ve heard. This might not be you but I believe in the power of mysteries.

I might not ever find you but I’d like to. Tell me who else was on that tape. Tell me which artist you put on there multiple times, I found another cassette mix with just that one band too. I’d like to hear what else you can make, and maybe make you a mix of my own.

I’ll be waiting…”

Good reader, I have to know how this story ends. So, people of Salt Lake, if you ever gave a little piece of your soul to a love interest and titled it “Fall In Love With Me” with a B-side “The All Mixed Up” please email me AND the creator of this ad as soon as possible.

And for what it’s worth, any girl/guy who doesn’t fall in love with a guy/girl who puts The Smiths and Yo La Tengo on a mix-tape isn’t good enough for you anyway. And donating it to the DI? Beyond the pale.

You deserve better.

(Call me.)

“It’s always better live,” purred Con Brio frontman Ziek McCarter from the stage at The State Room on Thursday night. And while I’d argue that in the age of auto-tune and lip-synching that’s not always true, in the case of Con Brio, he’s exactly right. I’d heard legend of the band’s electric performances—like their set at Austin City Limits that set the internet on fire and locally, their opening set for Grace Potter at Red Butte just a month ago—but this was my first time seeing them.

Wow.

McCarter came onto the stage after the rest of his band had assembled there and as the six of them played intro music. And as he approached the microphone, onto which a scarf was tied—hello, Steven Tyler—it was clear that he was a force of nature. He wore satin pants, a jaunty fedora with a feather sticking out top and a three-quarter sleeved sequined jacket that looked like something Betty White may have worn to an awards show in 1986. And somehow it worked.

And though Trumpeter Brendan Liu was charismatic in his own right, and sax player Marcus Stephens brought charm in his role on the stage, and though McCarter gave every man in his band their due at different points in the nearly two-hour set, none of them came close to matching the stage presence of the front-man. He belted out songs—sometimes in falsetto—while also strutting around the stage, shaking his behind, doing the splits, and gyrating his hips in a way that made this middle-aged woman exhausted just watching.

Indeed, the young man with the golden voice seems to have harnessed his sexuality. At one point he told the crowd about a slower jam, “Let it percolate. Some things take time. We call that foreplay.” Although, he also told a pointless story about seeing a dog at a hotel and told the crowd that he knew Mercury was retrograde (ed note: it is not.).

Con Brio blew through soulful song after soulful, funky, R&B  song, some of their own and some covers, with enthusiasm and boundless energy without hardly taking a break to breathe—showing that they are an incredible band with an extraordinary lead singer. And though thier gig at The State Room did not sell out this time, it’s clear that they’ll be outgrowing the venue very, very soon—because, with Con Brio, it’s definitely better live.

Fun fact: Con Brio is a musical direction that means “with spirit” or “with vigor.”

Another fun fact: Con Brio is a musical group playing The State Room on Thursday night.

These two things are not unrelated.

Photo by Amy Price

Young and with relentless energy, Con Brio is a soul-funk-R&B band that answers the question you never asked about what would happen if someone combined James Brown, Michael Jackson and Prince (may they rest in peace).

After taking Austin City Limits by storm last year and generating headlines like, “The Best New Live Band In America?” and “Soulful Powerhouse Con Brio Proves ACL’s Value.” Whoa, right? No pressure, guys.

Here’s where it gets really interesting. Frontman Ziek McCarter, an aerobic force on stage, lost his father in 2011 at the hands of a police officer in East Texas. And as a result the band’s debut album Paradise, which they started recording right after McCarter had a vision of his father, has a social conscious—especially  “Brave and Free,” which name drops Dr. King and Travon Martin in its opening lines. It should be #blacklivesmatter’s theme song.

Thursday September 22, doors at 7 and the music starts at 8, Morgan Whitney Opens. Tickets still available here.

NEEDTOBREATHE (all caps, much to this editor’s chagrin) will breathe some Christian-rock tunes into Red Butte Garden on Tuesday night with their TOUR DE COMPADRES (again with the caps, guys? Seriously?) tour. And, if you don’t have tickets to the remaining three shows at Red Butte, this is your last chance before the official end of summer—the day Red Butte closes its doors for the year—because it’s the only show for which tickets are still available.

NEEDTOBREATHE (ugh) will be joined on the 53-city tour by friends and fellow Christian-rockers (compadres, get it?)  Mat Kearney, John Mark McMillan and Welshy Arms. And in a move that can only be described as marketing genius, the entire tour is sponsored by… wait for it… Cracker Barrel. Plus, in a clear sign of knowing your audience, TOUR DE COMPADRES (this isn’t even cute anymore, guys) will wrap-up at Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University—the birthplace of many Republican presidential campaigns and an accredited university at which creationism is taught as a biology course.

Tickets are still available here. Doors open at 5:30. The show starts at 6:30.

Utah and Huntsmans go together like piano concertos and Rachmaninoff. And on Tuesday we’ll get a little of all of the above when Mary Anne Huntsman, daughter of Jon and Mary Kaye, plays at the Utah Symphony’s Opening Fundraising Gala on Tuesday night at Abravenel Hall.

Opening USO’s 76^th season, Ms. Huntsman will be playing Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 and, the ever-recognizable, Beethoven’s 5^th. Huntsman has told news outlets that she first heard the Rachmaninoff piece at Abravenel Hall as a seven year old and her mother promised to take her to Disney World if she learned how to play it. Two weeks later, she’d mastered the complicated piece. And the rest, as they say, is history.

The former Utah first daughter has gone on to play in music halls all over the world, everywhere from Carnegie Hall to China—where her father served an ambassadorship under President Obama before his run for President.

The Utah Symphony orchestra will be led by conductor Thierry Fischer and the entire concert will be played for 90 minutes without intermission.

The event is a fundraiser for the Utah Symphony, and tickets start at $21 and go all the way up to a VIP sponsorship experience of $10,000. There is room in nearly every budget to show support for the Utah Symphony. You can purchase tickets here.