Category: General

The estranged members of a magic act reunite on stage during The New Bad Boys of Magic, a one-act play now holding performances as a part of the Hollywood Fringe Festival.

Daniel Donohue and Eric Siegel star as Dan and Eric, two down on their luck magicians who work through their issues in the middle of one of Dan’s performances. They haven’t seen each other in years, and Eric’s appearance is a shock.

Despite the misleading promotional art for the play, Dan is hardly a “bad boy” of magic. On the contrary, he’s a swell kind of guy who has to make a living doing kids birthday parties. It wasn’t always so bad. When he and Eric were together, they were an act in Vegas. Unfortunately, Eric took to the bottle and now he’s a homeless drunk.

He barges in on Eric’s family friendly show, drunk and belligerent, and things quickly turn R rated. Over the course of an hour, they work through their issues, and actually perform some nifty tricks, making “The New Bad Boys” time well spent, if you like sleight of hand and edgy humor.

Donohue and Siegel are engaging actors, and they play their roles quite well. Donohue has a boyish charm about him that makes him quickly likable, while Siegel easily slips into the part of a complete asshole that can’t let go of his grudges. Their believable relationship is what holds the play together, despite its shortcomings.

Does Siegel play a good drunk? Not really. Maybe it was the nerves of opening night, but his version of an alcoholic comes across as play acting. Likewise, the exchanges between the actors felt stiff at times, as if they were still getting comfortable with the material. I suppose with more shows under their belts, the lines will sound more authentic and the illusion of whether you’re seeing a play or actual events will get pulled off more successfully.

Speaking of illusions, the magic tricks are great fun for the audience. The best involved a bottle of 151- proof rum and had some audience members gasping. On the flip side, a lengthy card trick that involved storytelling wasn’t quite as successful. The cards were difficult to see from my seat, and since the bit was so long, it was difficult to maintain enthusiasm.

I suppose the limitations of a tiny theater (I think it sat 50, maybe) may be a reason behind the difficulty pulling off this trick. But every magician knows they have to play the whole room, and the room I was in had a hard time following the trick. They might consider adding more and different tricks to replace this one.

On the same issue of their room, despite the tiny stage size, Donohue and Siegel need to use more of their surroundings. Too often, the stage direction was the two of them standing center stage, facing each other, shutting out their audience.  The confines may have been tight, but there was plenty of space considering they had limited props. Considering that the show’s director, Jonathan Hymen, is a veteran of Chicago theater, I hope they can work this out.

Nevertheless, the actors, both disciples of Chicago’s Second City, and whose work has appeared on TBS and Funny and Die, know how to entertain and make you laugh. The New Bad Boys of Magic is very funny, and if they can continue to pull off that trick, the other elements will fall into place.

The New Bad Boys of Magic play at the Hollywood Fringe Festival June 17 at 3:30pm, and June 24 at 10pm. All performances are at the Flight Theatre at the Complex, 6472 Santa Monica Boulevard, Hollywood, CA 90038.

Tickets are $10 and can only be purchased online, at www.hff17.com/4501, or by phone by calling (323) 455-4585.

Because of this extraordinary step, it is justified to give the band’s latest, The Mission, as fair a hearing as possible. Not that such should ever be doubted, but the band will forever have to deal with Kilroy Was Here as part of their legacy; an album that, even on the level of kitsch and novelty, withers under scrutiny. Thus, that specific formula has to be applied.

You can only measure Styx albums against other Styx albums.

Styx never has and never will produce something on the level of “All Along The Watchtower.” You might measure “Come Sail Away” against “Stairway To Heaven” on the basis of audacity, but even so, the former comes off as extremely broad when benchmarked against the latter. You can’t even really measure Styx songs against “Don’t Stop Believin’,” or “High Enough,” even though Tommy Shaw was/is a member of both Styx and Damn Yankees.

But if you match Pieces Of Eight against Edge Of The Century, or Paradise Theatre against Brave New World, you can make it work. Why is this necessary? Because, in order to sound like a proper Styx song, you need to balance three opposing personalities. First you need bombast and theatricality, as embodied by former bandmate Dennis DeYoung, whose stamp on the group is so indelible that, even after his departure, he still is regarded as the “voice of Styx.” Then you have a sort of “meat ‘n potatoes” version of rock, as personified by Tommy Shaw. Finally, you have James Young. Even though he’s never verbalized it, to our knowledge, Young always comes across as a guy who would have loved to have been a classic “rock weirdo” in the mold of an Alice Cooper, KISS, or even Marc Bolan. He straddles the fence between the other two band personalities in this way, and because he has acted as this unifying force, has needed to tamp down that freak flag that always feels just slightly out of frame.

So there you have it. It is hard for Styx albums to compete with other bands because there’s so much competition within its own ranks. You get either cohesion or breakdown when one of these forces shouts down another. But, you might interrupt: DeYoung is not in the band anymore. Isn’t this pattern broken? Not necessarily. Even though he’s been with the group for fourteen years, Lawrence Gowan is stuck with the unenviable position of not only being “the new guy” but of replacing an outsized musical presence such as is DeYoung’s. He has to bring drama without bring “the drama” or it just won’t sound like the band (a malady that took down Cyclorama at the knees).

That’s quite a preamble. Is The Mission worth the effort? Popdose’s Ted Asregadoo and Dw. Dunphy dare to compare.

Dw: As the opening suggests, you can’t measure Styx albums against, say, Journey albums, or Kansas albums, or U2 albums, or whatever. You have to see how they fit into the very specific thing they do and, by and large, The Mission is successful under those conditions. It sounds good, it sounds like the band you remember from the late 1970s, much more than what the band would become in the ‘80s.

Lyrics are still a sore spot with Styx, no matter who is writing. There’s no room for subtlety with them. If they’re singing about a mission to Mars, that’s not a metaphor. They’re going on a mission to Mars. This is particularly true with the song “Gone, Gone, Gone” which opens up the record proper (after “Overture”) which uses a lot of gung-ho, psyche-up language.

The song “Khedive” is mostly an instrumental, and the playing on it is pretty extraordinary. I was hoping that it would build into a massive crescendo of some sort, but it doesn’t quite pay off. The band sings “khedive!” at the end, which is the name of the ship on this mission to Mars. (Apparently, it means: “The title of the monarch of Egypt in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, nominally a viceroy of the Sultan of Turkey.”).

So up to this point, I’ve sounded fairly negative. What I want to put across is that while there are a lot of imperfections throughout The Mission, it is still very enjoyable. It feels, in terms of narrative, like Styx were taking a cue from Queen’s soundtrack to the Flash Gordon movie. Plus, there are two really good songs on here…good enough that they can fit seamlessly into the live repertoire, I think. “Locomotive” and “Radio Silence” really stand well on their own but are not — and this is important — singles. If people buy this record looking for a new “Come Sail Away,” “Renegade,” “The Best Of Times,” “Don’t Let It End,” or even “Show Me The Way,” they’re going to be disappointed.

You need to get to this album with low expectations, and afterward, you’ll be positively surprised. If you actually are expecting The Grand Illusion, Pieces Of Eight, or Paradise Theatre, you could be let down. But it’s definitely not Kilroy or Brave New World, that’s for sure.

Ted:  I think you’re absolutely correct in your view that this is not a singles-driven Styx album.  The Mission certainly hearkens back to their pre-Cornerstone or Paradise Theatre era when the band was writing songs that weren’t laced with backward looking romanticism. This is certainly a forward looking concept album, but you can’t have a mission to Mars without humans taking their cultural conditioning with them.  That certainly comes out in the lyrics. There’s kind Star Trek quality to the lyrics that make me think Gene Roddenberry would be happy with the whole “wagon train to the stars” vibe.  The sense of adventure, swagger, wonderment, and moments of longing are the stuff of Captain Kirk and the crew — but Styx handles it without the campiness.   

Personally, I love how “Overture” sets the tone with a classic Styx sound that’s both ethereal and melodic —  and then kicked it into high gear with “Gone, Gone, Gone.”  The latter song really rocks, has great Styx harmonies, and J.Y. Young’s playing is just flat out great. “Hundred Million Miles” is one of those mid-tempo numbers that’s a nice transition song to push deeper into the journey. It’s not proggy in feel (as the songs later in the album are), but it seems the band keeps with a standard song structure so the transitions from song to song aren’t as jarring.  

As a musician Dw, I’m curious to know your thoughts on the music on the record. I’m just a music fan, but you actually compose music. From my view, I think the band is both playing at a level I haven’t heard in a long time, and the music itself is just solid.  How ‘bout you?   

Dw: One of the best parts about the album is that they’re doing it as a rock band. The thing that sinks a concept album or a rock opera the quickest is when songwriters think they’re librettists. That’s when you wind up with singers, belting at the top of their lungs, “I’m so sad!” Then you’re really in trouble.

That said, I think the band left some money on the table.

I’m sure they’re gun-shy and don’t want to cross into Kilroy territory, but I felt like this story needed a couple more songs. Usually I’m asking for fewer, so it comes as a surprise to me. But I would have loved to hear a song that voices regret about leaving earth, something more personal and individual-driven. Like a voice of resentment that previous generations screwed things up so badly that such a mission was a necessity in the first place. That would have been a prime spot for J.Y. to rant and rave.

Or, perhaps, the child or other family member that harbors resentment that a parent is taking off and leaving them behind. Surely some people are going to be left behind while this “wagon train to the stars” does its duty.

Speaking of which, I’m reminded that Styx once did a song called “Why Me?” It would have been a fun turn to have a song called “Why You?” which voiced the frustration of those who were rejected from taking the mission. But maybe these could have flirted with Kilroy’s cheesiness, so perhaps it’s for the best that no such things are here.

Ted: If there’s glaring flaw in the record, it’s the last song “Mission to Mars.” For all the build up in the story, the conclusion fell flat. The song itself sounds a bit like a tack-on and lyrically it doesn’t do much to conclude anything.  So, while I really enjoyed the journey Styx took me on, the end of the ride seemed like a bit of a letdown.  From “Time May Bend” (which has many proggy elements),“Ten Thousand Ways,” “The Red Storm,” the rolling keyboards of “Khedive” and even the soaring quality of “The Outpost” it all seems to work as part of the narrative.  But once “Mission to Mars” comes on, I was kind of scratching my head and wondering, “That’s it?”

Dw.: Yes, “Mission To Mars” is a toothless coda. It feels hollow; a big, “Yay, we made it!” but for what value? As the opening section to, perhaps, a reprise of “The Greater Good,” now with more of a positive sentiment behind it, perhaps that would have made a more satisfying end. I think that would have upped the progressive feel to the whole thing a notch.

But I don’t want to linger too much on where the record falls down. It could have been much stronger, in my opinion, but it also could have been magnitudes weaker. When the album works, it works very well, and I think Styx is to be commended for all of those moments. For as fractious a group as they’ve been over time, and for the long period where they did not have new material, no one could predict they’d come up with something that hits more than it misses than this album.

Ted: During their heyday, Styx seemed more like a corporation than a band. From their VH1 “Behind the Music” episode, Tommy Shaw wasn’t masking how disillusioned he was when the band moved away from their progressive and hard rock roots to a hits driven band. And yeah, it’s easy to rag on Dennis DeYoung, but he did write most of their most memorable songs. But Shaw, J.Y., and even the Panozzo brothers were much more committed to Album Oriented Rock than Contemporary Hit Radio, so for this current incarnation of the band to go back to the 1975-1978 sound as a conscious decision was a smart move. At this stage of their career, Styx doesn’t need another ballad with the word “paradise” in it. They started as a rock band whose sound intersected with progressive rock — but was much more melodic — and that’s where their roots are.

On The Mission they really do get back to their roots in a way that’s not campy, ironic, or ham-handed. Given that the group’s last record of original songs was in 2003, it was a gamble to attempt something like this. They took their time (something like two years) and the songs are, for the most part, squarely in the best of the hard rock tradition. Credit goes to both Tommy Shaw and Will Evankovich who had the vision (and the songs) to make The Mission a satisfying return for Styx as songwriters, players, and a band. And on the production side, I’m very grateful they also created a sonic treat for music fans. In other words, the record sounds great!  

Ah, yes. Sweet sixteen. A time when adulthood is just within striking distance, but not quite yet at the place where you can be sent to fight wars on foreign soil, or pay taxes like the freeloaders you are. It’s a momentous occasion. But…where are the fireworks? Um, we were promised BLACK FOREST CHOCOLATE CAKE, not double-chocolate! And this pathetic techno the DJ is playing? NOT ENOUGH “OONTS,” YOU LOSER!!

S I G H ! !

Settle in for your listening pleasure while Jon and Rob discuss Zephaniah Ohora, Amilia K Spicer, Chantel Monte, some Beatles thoughts, a brief review of the Wonder Woman movie (and why Jon’s the only person in the world who didn’t love it), The Keepers on Netflix, terrorism in England, Kathy Griffin and Bill Maher and the death of courageous comedy, the cars that carried us while we listened to the music we grew to love. and so much more!

And…Trump.

 Radio City with Jon Grayson and Rob Ross Episode Sixteen

The podcast will be on the site as well as for subscription via iTunes and other podcast aggregators. Subscribe and let people know about Radio City, as well as Popdose’s other great podcasts David Medsker’s Dizzy Heights and In:Sound with Michael Parr and Zack Stiegler.

We would forgive a listener for thinking, in the early moments on the disc, that Dispatch was offering its American, somewhat roots-ish brand of indie-rock as a kind of commentary on the nation’s patchwork patterns of immigration, as the first two songs hint at foreign islands – “Be Gone” with a guitar line punching out an energetic Irish jig, “Only The Wild Ones” with its vaguely sun-splashed Caribbean jangliness. From there, though, the album really starts churning and producing steam, presenting a kind of folksy pop-rock hybrid with silkily delivered but quirky lyrics, choruses with lots of hooks, and verses with plenty of texture and dimension. This time out, think Sufjan Stevens by way of Soul Coughing. (The Soul Coughing comparison is particularly appropriate on the excellent groove of “Skin The Rabbit,” which is complete with fun bass slides and a potentially Doughty-inspired vocal turn.)

The trio reaches for the stars and grabs them on “Rice Water,” which starts as a mellow acoustic aside and transforms into a poppy march where the band details, sometimes in falsetto, its need (or lack thereof) for God, guns, water and laughter, among a host of other things. That’s followed by the equally excellent “Water Like,” where the acoustic mix is borderline shimmery and the organ/guitar interplay hints at the trio’s jam-band or jam-band-inspired status. Then, to “Ghost Town” – so much excellence in this stretch of the disc – which, like “Rice Water,” morphs from a spare acoustic shuffle to a more fleshed-out pop offering with hand-claps and multiple backing vocal refrains. The disc ends with the borderline-funky “Atticus Cobain.”

One of the reasons America, Location 12 is so damned enticing is that the trio sounds like it’s having so much fun playing it. There’s a kind of precision to the performances, to be sure, but also a special glow or warmth to the entire recording that goes beyond the faders. These guys are having a good time and – thank you, New England – you should, too. And, theses aside, Dispatch has made an engaging outing here, from the ethnic jaunt of its opener to the almost-urban throb of the verses on “Midnight Lorry” to the bouncy bass and pop perfection of “Painted Yellow Lines,” where guitarist/vocalist Brad Corrigan intones, “America warm my face/ I’ve been trying to turn the page.” Now, don’t turn this page too fast.

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The album, out now on Louisville imprint Eastwood Records, presents the listener with seven tried-and-true musical vignettes about the mechanics of ending a romance. It’s not a song cycle, per se, not in the truest sense of the word, but, instead, a series of windows onto personal calamity. And, autobiographical or not, it happens to rock. Searcy, whose highly familiar means of belting out a tune has led bands like Squirrel Bait and Big Wheel, has a great handle on the material and presentation, peppering songs with great little vocal inflections and pristine pop lines like “She sucks the words off candy hearts/ And leaves them speechless in the dark,” the record’s opening couplet.

The most glowing moment on the record, though, might be the single “Better Lie,” where an addictive-as-candy chorus hook is accented by a high-in-the-mix, wailing guitar line. Searcy uses that guitar-line trick more than a handful of times on the record, the sustained single notes bending out a kind of harmony, and it sounds invigorating rather than predictable. Seven songs? Too short, my friend!

The record will appeal to fans of Frank Black (at his least angular) and Bob Mould, angry young men who morphed into seasoned songwriters during solo outings. (The Mould comparison is particularly apt, as Searcy’s Squirrel Bait got a big boost in the awareness department for its first record back in the mid-80s thanks to a Husker Du shout-out.) Searcy also shares his delivery, in a sense, with another punk-veteran-turned-rock-songwriter: Paul Westerberg. Again, this is capital-R Rock, with distorted, clangy and crunchy guitars and big, big choruses, not the textural punk of Squirrel Bait, but Searcy has been delivering it during a solo record dating back more than 10 years now and he clearly knows the terrain.

But, then there are the lyrics. They’re not poetry, sure sure, but Searcy has a way of playing with plain language and making it work on his behalf. So, we get “I don’t want to pull the Band-Aid any slower” and “There’s a sign that’s says cash for gold/ They can have my time but they can’t take my soul.” It’s more of a functional breed of lyricism than an illuminating one but, in the context of again, a big-R Rock record, it works and works well.

Near the record’s close is another gem, “Liar’s Lullaby,” where organ and punchy guitars line the verse and Searcy, who recently moved to Georgia, occasionally flashes his Louisville credentials. (He sings the word “deemed” as “dimmed” in that warm Lull-ville fashion.) The choruses on that song are big and rafter-shaking but the thing that sells it is the organ and Searcy’s delivery. That delivery is what keeps Leave It All Out There from being a kind of college-rock retread and instead standing out as a release worthy of attention by aficionados of big refrains.

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