Houston Music Blog

Although audio-visual equipment isn't technically allowed inside the festival, that doesn't prevent kids armed with iPhones and Flip cams from capturing their favorite shows from the crowd. Below are some of our favorite crowd-captured videos from ACL so far.

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Craig Hlavaty

Who would have ever imagined just a little over a week ago that Houstonians would be convening on the lush confines of Discovery Green to learn to do the "Thriller" dance? Or in the sweltering dog days of July for that matter? The dance seems way more like a Halloween affair than anything else.

But a week ago Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, was still shuffling around this mortal coil with the rest, albeit in a much more sedated and euphoric state than most. The guy seems to get even more interesting as the details of his private life are publicly sorted out. Who would have known that his drug intake would make Keith Richards blush?

A week to the day that the King of Kings took the King of Pop home to the big dance studio in the sky, Dance Houston put on a "Thriller" dance clinic to honor the world's fallen idol. Families and amateur steppers converged on the grass to learn each little step of the dance.

Rocks Off can't help but think the city would be all that more magical with random dance clinics popping up everywhere. Hell, it is exercise after all, and the whole country has been forever telling us how chubs we all are around the Bayou City in numerous "Fattest City" countdowns. The least we could do is learn a few wicked moves in the process of losing some poundage.

Our minds our ablaze with ideas now that we know how many people will brave the late day heat just to dance. We have always had a soft spot for Grease in our dark hearts so we wouldn't mind a little "Born To Hand Jive" action from time to time.

When Patrick Swayze finally gets that job cracking skulls in the eternal "Road House", we will be on the Green waiting to do some dirty dancing with a Baby of our own, albeit with a good fifth of firewater in our bellies.

Let's just hope that the "Macarena" stays firmly implanted in '90s where it belongs.

Craig Hlavaty

Wallet, keys, lighter, cellphone, camera(s). We had it all last night as we walked into the arty confines of the East End's Super Happy Fun Land. But one thing we didn't have was a pair of earplugs, and right about now we feel kinda silly not dishing out the extra buck for the ones sitting right behind the counter.

Two of Houston's loudest bands, Muhammad Ali and Black Congress, brought forth a hellacious ferocity last night that grinded down the eardrums with the equally decibelic Double Dagger sandwiched in the midst.

Muhammad Ali is arguably the best band to come out of the Houston indie scene this year, currently traveling troupes of indie-swooners notwithstanding. The erratically-spelled and emphatically loved Ali has never failed to bring a smile to our face since we first saw them in February. Last night's opening slot ahead of Double Dagger and tape-mates Black Congress was nothing if not hella chaotic and hooky.

Last weekend's Stingaree Music Festival was proof that Bolivar is back from the brink.

Need further proof? Check out these video of two Vidorian lovebirds dirty dancing in the beer-scented sea breeze...

Now that's what we like to see down on Crystal Beach: wife-beater shirts, skin-tight jorts and rolls of sinuous back-fat gyrating to the beat.

(Hat-tip to The Bayou and videographer of Vidorian amour "Laurie").

Photos by Daniel Kramer

Aftermath is not going to purport to know what the New York Dolls were like live, in their Thundered and Killer-ed heyday of kitsch and campy kiss-offs. We weren't even in Pre-K when Buster Poindexter was singing "Hot Hot Hot" on Saturday Night Live. But for chrissakes, they couldn't have been this awkward and stunted. (Thanks, YouTube.)

It can't be age, because folks like Mick Jagger and Iggy Pop are of an age when "one should know better" and they still look like feral cats onstage, stalking their audience, their wounded and alluring prey.

So then, what's wrong with what's left of the original Dolls, David Johansen and Syl Sylvain? They both seem to have their hearts in doing those classic Dolls songs, some of which are nearing 40 years of age. Hell, the guys even write and release new material with a group of guys that can't be but half their respective ages. Rock and roll seems to still be in their veins, if only for the benefit of nostalgia-fueled boomers looking to waste some dough on proto-punk legends.

Aftermath stepped out to see the legendary New York Dolls hit the House Of Blues last night off Caroline. Our photographer Dan Kramer took some amazing pics as always. Here's a taste of his work while we get our review together...

Photo By Daniel Kramer

I honestly feel like I, and everyone else at Boondocks last night, cheated the Wild Moccasins and Sabra Laval: We should have paid to see the show. Including local and touring acts, it was one of the best I’ve seen so far this year, and I saw Shat last Thursday at Rudz. (It’s not easy to top a guy wearing a dildo helmet and singing hardcore.)

I have to send a shout out to Ruthie Rodriguez at The Daily Cougar for her article about the Wild Moccasins, which led me to the quintet, who switch from pop to country-tinged rock with the energy you’d expect to see from a group of under-20s.

This band is easily a Best New Act contender for any music award showcase in Houston this year. From first beat, which the drummer clapped out while standing on his seat, to last, these kids didn’t let up. The dating-duo of Zahira Gutierrez and Cody Swann laid down some of the, well, cutest harmonies over the swinging guitar, bass and drum work of Andrew Lee, Nicholas Cody and Andrew Ortiz, respectively. If you’re looking to see a show as impressive as it is fun, Young Mammals and Something Fierce-style, check out the Moccasins’ next show, March 21 at Walter’s. But for now, check out the video below.

I will never stop singing the praises of Joe Mathlete – ever. And last night’s Matheletes show at the Proletariat proves I may never have to. (Well, I guess unless he kills my mom or something.) Joe and his Mathletes (which includes all four Dimes) danced, jumped, joked and rocked their way through a set of original tunes and cover songs. Joe’s style is like a combination of They Might Be Giants and Atom and His Package. His lyrics about absurd topics, like hornless unicorns and his friend AJ who doesn’t have a car, are backed by poppy, Casio/Korg-infused instrumentation that just, well, puts a smile on your face.

First of all, let me say that no one could ever replace Mr. Brian McManus – and I’m not just saying that because he used to work here.

With that said, last night The Fatal Flying Guilloteens played their first show with new guitarist Erik Bogle, from Bring Back the Guns, and I have to say he rose to the challenge. And though nobody can top McManus’s charm and good looks (oh, um, I mean guitar skills), Bogle certainly didn’t stop the party that is a Guilloteens show. If you’ve been to a Guilloteens show, then you know what I’m talking about, and if you haven’t, I’ll just let the photos and video do the rest of the talking …

The American Sharks
The Proletariat
August 5, 2007

Click here for a slideshow.

A lot of bands use crazy onstage antics and energy to mask the fact that, though their music is good, it ’s pretty mediocre. You see it all the time and these days it’s pretty commonplace and, well, annoying. Anyone can stand on a table, jump on their fans and climb the rafters, but not everyone can set concert chaos to a kick-ass soundtrack.

The American Sharks can.