by Brian Slattery | Oct 2, 2015 1:54 pm
When Jon Rodgers—who has a show Saturday night at the Outer Space to support his latest project, Cindertalk—was 11, he was in the garage of the house in New Haven he lived in with his family, practicing guitar. “I didn’t even have an amplifier,” Rodgers said in an interview on WNHH radio’s “Northern Remedy” program. “A guy who was walking by on the street came in. He said, ‘Oh … you’re learning guitar, this is fantastic.’
“So he picks up the guitar. He’s got the big weathered hands of an adult and he’s playing these chords, and I thought, ‘Wow, he’s really good — Who is this guy?’ And eventually he said, ‘well, you keep practicing and one day you’ll come and play my place.’ And I said, ‘what do you mean?’ And he said, ‘well, I own Toad’s Place.’”
by Allan Appel | Oct 2, 2015 9:36 am
If you have a hankering to travel back to the counter-cultural press and its close connections with Donovan, Dylan, Moon Dog and other music figures of the late 1960s, click on the audio file below for the latest episode of “This Day In New Haven History” on WNHH radio.
by Sharon Benzoni | Oct 1, 2015 12:50 pm
Genet Asef, vocalist for the Krar Collective, performed a head-twisting, hair-whipping dance. A few minutes later, she jumped down off the stage and into the midst of the dancing crowd. Temesgen Zeleke pulled gorgeous sounds from his electric krar, and Grum Bebegashaw kept the rhythm moving on the kebero drums.
“There are no words,” said the man behind me.
by Lucy Gellman | Oct 1, 2015 12:09 pm
In preparation for a major concert Thursday night — the first of the season — William Boughton leaned in to the string section of the New Haven Symphony Orchestra (NHSO), nearly falling from his perch as he primed the violins for receipt of some great, long-kept secret. Half cloaked in shadow at stage right, the cellos took note, a few rogue whispers falling quiet as the section readied itself for the same advice. In the back of the stage, the French horns and woodwinds followed suit too, setting down the coiled, shining bodies of their instruments and wetting their reeds in anticipation.
by Staff | Sep 30, 2015 12:09 pm
José Oyola doesn’t mess around with his music. Instilled with melody and harmony from a young age, he began performing n English and Spanish early in his musical career, and has had enough success with it to be in the midst of finishing up and promoting his sophomore album, Hologram, before it debuts later this fall.
by Lucy Gellman | Sep 30, 2015 6:40 am
Phillip Boulanger leaned into his cello, pursing his lips as the first few notes of Claude Debussy’s “Quartet in G Minor” loosed themselves from the belly of the instrument. His eyes brightened. Wagner and his epic ring cycle were turning in a German grave far away. Mahler’s ghost coughed up a phlegmy century of monochromatic tradition. Boulanger and the Haven String Quartet left them in the dust as they played on. Behind them, Utagawa Toyokuni’s The Eijudo Fan Store sprang to life, a suite of women in pastel-toned, faded kimonos heading back to their business as a melody bloomed in the air.
by Brian Slattery | Sep 24, 2015 11:49 am
This episode of “Northern Remedy” (click above to listen) flew from pop to rock to ska to hip hop to jazz, in another tour of New Haven’s music. A big thanks to those of you who have been sending in albums.
by Brian Slattery | Sep 24, 2015 6:47 am
“Black Rock,” the opening cut from Nick Di Maria’s Time Circuit, starts with a calm, spaced-out organ loop, atmospheric drums. Then a four-note bass line drops in, giving a sense of what’s ahead. Without warning, yet coming in right where it sound, the drums set off on a rhythm that wouldn’t be out of place on a James Brown record. And then there’s Di Maria’s trumpet, clear and precise. Except that it’s also run through a wah-wah pedal.
by Lucy Gellman | Sep 17, 2015 2:06 pm
Looking out into the blue-bathed audience at College Street Music Hall, looking back to her amps, and then looking out again, Chan Marshall — a.ka. Cat Power — adjusted the mic in front of her, eyeing it warily before lighting a twig of incense beside it. Tendrils of white, sweet smoke snaked into the air. A few people in the front row leaned all the way forward, setting their beers on the floor. She closed her eyes.
by Lucy Gellman | Sep 17, 2015 2:04 pm
At Lyric Hall, Alex Nicks was crafting her song in bits. A sunset falling over New Haven. A senpai with half a pancake for a face. A big, cavernous room across which two characters might be able to see each other. Scratch that. A hallway. No. A more abstracted space, with enough breathing room for the song to exist on its own, punctuated by bouts of laughter and Anthony Duff’s beat boxing from the corner.