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Fabulous Entourage by Jennifer Brown
As is my example on a blisteringly cold Saturday night in February when I ventured to Joe’s Pub for the sold out performances of local experimental electo-rock Billy-burg scenesters Vic Thrill and the art-school pop group, the Fabulous Entourage. Invited as a guest (journalistic speak for “review our show”) of the Fabulous Entourage, I sauntered up to the man at rope, and politely asked when doors would open, and if my guests and I could pop inside to look for my hostess. As I was on the comp list, making me the slightest bit hipper than the rest of the crowd, this shouldn’t have been a problem. But, I was snidely told doors would open shortly, I could find my “friend” once they did, and now would I please mind stepping to the side and heading to the back of the line? Hmph. Well, as they say, all good things come to those who wait. Once inside I was treated to an evening of superlative talent. Upon arrival, comedian Nick Kroll, MC a go-go (re: Alan Shemper of Wet Hot American Summer) was busily entertaining the crowd with his witty, albeit campy, theatrical antics. After the brief warm-up, Vic Thrill took to the stage armed with a lap-top, drum machine, and guitars. The combination sounds omitted from the aforementioned was both hypnotically alluring and the pinnacle of geek-sheik rock. After an invigorating set, complete with honky-tonk-electo-clash rock; it was time once more for Alan…I mean Nick Kroll, again entertain the uberhip crowd. I was not the only member of the audience eager for the Fabulous Entourage to bring their fabulousness to light. Even from my not-so-vantage point near the bar (only later did I learn there had been a table reserved for me; I am that special, Mr. Back-of-the-line-bouncer) I could sense the anticipation of the crowd; the anxious whispers between friends, “You’re going to looooove them…I can’t wait!!” Soon enough, the wait was over and Emily, Kyle, Libby, Perry and Travis paraded out from behind the dark curtain that hid the back stage area. The boys, adorned in coordinating retro-UK-punk inspired outfits of neon and white, designed by Sky Switser, took their places behind a keyboard, drum kit and bass, looked ready to join the post-punk synth-pop-Franz Ferdinand-led movement. The girls of the Entourage, Emily and Libby, took their places in front of the microphones set up on stage left, 60’s Do-Wop-back-up-singer-style, complete with 60’s inspired mini-dresses and go-go attire. A new-wave twist on an old standard, this was going to be good. And so it began, with the first song, a working title, “The Fabulous Song,” an infectious pop-laced tune that set the mood for the remaindered of the set, it was to be a truly fabulous experience. As group crossed genres, I sat back and listened in awe as they managed to craftily place pop and du-wop, new-wave, funk and rock in a neat little package and tied it with a string of melodic harmonized vocals (courtesy of those two sultry back-up singers). I listened as tales of robot girls and trips to the moon were whimsically recanted to electrifying beats. Midway through the set, a friend of the group’s, Tara Novak, an up-an-coming violinist joined the Entourage on stage for several songs, including Burn the City Down, a melodic tale of love and sacrifice, adding an additional dimension to the already multi-tonal song. Now, as I mentioned early, I was holding court at a corner of the bar not ideal for viewing the on-stage antics of the group. Which was unfortunate, because not only are the members of the group excellent musicians, but they are brilliant thespians as well. Each member of the Fabulous Entourage is, or has at some point been involved in the New York City theater scene, as either playwright, actor, director, etc. As such, the band strives to entertain, not only with their compelling and creative music, but also with their talents of theatrical expertise. From the Supremes-style dancing of Emily and Libby stage left, to Kyle’s Jerry-Lee-Lewis-esque keyboard antics, the audience was enlivened with their sexy-sophisticated style. Overall the evening was a complete barrage of pleasantries to the senses. Swank as it may be, Joe’s Pub was not the ideal venue to showcase such an entrancing group. Be sure to catch them at Sin-E, on April 2, and on April 20 at Pianos. or check out their website at:
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Where was the XXX excitement in Super Bowl XXXIX? by Brian Klunk It’s been a year since the wardrobe malfunction that shook the world. To nip any potential controversy in the bud Super Bowl XXXIX countered 2004’s C-cup excitement with A-list acts whose performances were not unlike a Holiday Inn toilet; sanitized for your protection. The pregame show featured “Redneck Girl” Gretchen Wilson who sang her quasi-country hits while showing off her new record label approved body. Like Jewel and your American Idol Kelly Clarkson Miss Wilson seems to have lost some appeal along with the fifteen pounds that are shed with newfound fame. Her big finale featured the legendary Charlie Daniels who stood onstage looking bewildered and had his sound turned down lower than a ’64 Impala in South Central. Ironic how they start the night off with a guest appearance by a man who’s “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” is the cue for bartenders in New York City to take their boobs out. God forbid a nipple make an appearance, so good thinking to get that scantily clad entourage of the Black Eyed Peas to collect a total of eight cubic inches of fabric to wedge in the cracks of their collected asses, as to not offend the kiddies with their aggressive booty-shaking. Is it me or does that one Pea’s long, straightened hair manage to fascinate and disturb at the same time? The music was toe-tapping, I assume, but still could not hear it over the super-amped cheers of the five ticket holders under the age of forty who know that there are three Black Eyed Peas that don’t come in a can. Will Smith got hitched up with a promotional appearance for his latest flick and introduced Adult Contemporary favorite Alicia Keys. The Artist Formerly Known As Fresh Prince made the obligatory annual eulogy for a passing musician. This year it was Ray Charles, and Keys unnecessarily sang over his moving version of “America the Beautiful.” Oh, wait, heartstrings not being pulled hard enough? Why not lead out a hundred or so blind kids to sing along? How comic! The bland leading the blind. At this point it was apparent that the entertainment directors sacrificed a decent sound man in lieu of Key’s makeup budget. Maybe next year they will look further than craigslist.org to find a board op. After ten minutes of commercials the teams prepared to take the field. Stadium favorite “Crazy Train” blared, clearly this time, as the New England Patriots took the field. Considering where he was born and raised, where he spent most of his days, and where he got into at least one small fight, Will Smith intro'ed his homeboys the Philadelphia Eagles with the horrendous tagline of their team having a “tenacious D.” Just when we thought we were safe from the pairing of a cardboard “D” and a cardboard fence Smith managed to plant the seeds of another soon-to-be played out fan banner in the minds of uncreative fans nationwide. All at the expense of “Shark Tale” co-star Jack Black. I barely noticed which AC/DC song the Eagles were trotting out to. No wonder Donovan McNabb kept throwing up during the game. The Armed Forces choir sang the “Star-Spangled Banner.” They were good. I can’t really say much more without being labeled as unpatriotic. I miss the good ol’ days when we could just call each other “commie pinkos” and get over it. Admittedly my homemade Buffalo Wings were sub-par but seeing as I was penned up with both the flu and my flu-ent girlfriend no one else had to suffer through them. The flu also meant my beer consumption was also sub-par, and for the first time since the last Super Bowl appearance by the Eagles in 1981 I was lucid at halftime. This year I appreciated my college buddy James and his Super Bowl drinking games as not being a joke, but a serious method of getting through this 8-hour fiasco. Halftime arrives. An x-shaped stage appeared at midfield, with Paul McCartney in the middle. Though wearing a hipster outfit (which his daughter likely copied from a patron at Welcome to the Johnson’s) he kindly omitted “new” material from his performance. Kicking off with “Drive My Car” the lines of the x-stage glowed with film clips of a monster truck rally. Hooray for the red states!!! Drums went into a cadence and he launched into “Get Back.” Though dressed like the sixth Stroke McCartney continued to rock while remaining faithful to the originals. Just like the Beatles except no scouser harmonies and the drummer was a huge, bald black man. My only game prediction was spot on; he played “Live and Let Die.” Fire works and pyrotechnics were expertly coordinated with the music, garnering more cheers than the game itself. McCartney officially took the song back from Guns N’ Roses, and sounded great. Relatively speaking. It’s still a Wings song, so he did the best he could. The audio for halftime was pleasantly clear. Wilson, Peas and Keys should have demanded their own sound guy like Sir Paul surely did. Of course he closed with “Hey Jude” which he rocked like a high school kegger while the crowd used colored cards to spell out the inspirational “na na na nanana na” as the song closed. Start to finish McCartney did a great job. Those who watched will certainly remember this performance positively when you read the news someday, oh boy, and see that “Paul Is Dead (For Real This Time.)” Good thing halftime more than made up for the hackney pregame. The only real tit in this years musical performances was the sound director.
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