This weekend Cuisine en Locale will be hosting “Your Friends Fest – an event put on by Dug Mccormack of Psychic Dog. The event is a celebration of local art, crafts, and music that’s being created in and around Boston. There’ll be a ton of great vendor’s – a lot of art – and some killer music (Spo, DCDR, Psychic Dog, currents, & Great News).
In a previous life I ran a popular Red Sox blog – the last time I wrote about the Sawx was three and a half years ago through a haze of tears as a great chapter in my life closed. Since that last sentence I’ve been able to focus on other outlets such as Visions of the Unexcused, DJ-ing, painting, and now most importantly, being a Dad. I’m content with my decision to retire the blog, and only occasionally get the itch to write about the Sox, and today that itch simply can’t be ignored, because the greatest Red Sox of my generation (no offense David Ortiz), and possibly ever, is being inducted into the the Hall of Fame.
The narrative of what it meant to be a Red Sox fan pre-2003 has been lost due to the previously unfathomable success of the Sox over the past decade. But pre-Pedro was a dark time for Red Sox fans. The Yankees were in the throes of a modern dynasty and the Red Sox were stuck in their birth-rite purgatory state of being good enough to make hope hurt. The decade before Pedro arrived the Sox averaged 80 wins per Season. The seven seasons Pedro was with Boston the Sox averaged 91, and that’s just the tip of the statistical iceberg of how much Martínez affected the Red Sox on the field, but to us Sox fans, it was his swagger on and off the field that makes him endearing. He turned our hope from its continuous pessimistic hue into a brilliantly saturated optimistic tone of possibility, not inevitability.
1999. This is the keystone year for the marketing money making behemoth “Red Sox Nation” has since become – and the Red Sox brass have Pedro Martínez (and Dan Duquette) to thank for such a solid foundation. Watching Pedro during this season, the apex of the steroid era, was the most electrifying baseball I’ve ever watched. If you had to go to the bathroom during a Pedro game you did so when the Red Sox were batting, for missing a pitch would be sacrilege. Having Pedro showcase this once in a lifetime electricity at the 1999 All-Star Game, the last to be in Fenway, as the baseball world said goodbye to Ted Williams, couldn’t have been more fitting. This was the passing of the torch.
Ted Williams and Pedro Martínez are the #1 and #2 greatest Red Sox ever. Both were inhuman in their ability to play baseball, and they both had unnerving confidence in their craft. This was shown to the World for the first time by Pedro in the best two innings in All-Star history, and then later in the 1999 ALDS, a moment that gets a little buried in a career with a plethora of amazing moments. Pedro replaced Derek Lowe in just the forth inning – this after leaving Game 1 with a back injury. The injured Pedro went on to pitch potentially the game of his life, striking out 8 over six stupendous innings of no hit ball to help the Red Sox win their first playoff Series since 1986.
It would take another five years for Pedro to help the Red Sox to the top of the baseball world, but this was the moment that made the possible real. Everything in-between that All-Star game in 1999 and Pedro holding that trophy in 2004 was magical. You never missed a pitch – his jovialness and defiance helped create the culture that made the Red Sox “The Red Sox” – which gave fans pride instead of contempt. I’ll talk of Pedro to my little boy Dylan like my Pops talked of Ted to me, another passing of a torch, and like Ted, Pedro’s light will forever shine bright on the institution he helped create – Red Sox Nation.
From Cambridge to the Dominican, thanks Pedro, congratulations on your Hall of Fame induction.
I’ve been home about an hour and I’m still trying to piece together one of the stranger nights in recent memory. Around 5pm yesterday social media started buzzing about a potential secret U2 show in Boston. Monday was their off day in-between a four show stint at The Garden, and given they’ve done something similar as recently 2009, it seemed plausible. So on a whim I jumped into a cab and made my way down to The Burren, the bar that was getting most of the said buzz.
Long story short, I showed up, sat belly up at the bar for hours, had Guinness & beef stew, listened to a Scientist talk about bacteria (no….for real), and listened to a Pandora U2 radio station – all while The Burren buzzed about if the show was or wasn’t happening. The fact that U2 never showed up is a lessen in social media I’ll leave for someone else to figure out. What I’ve been thinking on is why was I even there?
I haven’t truly enjoyed a U2 album for over a decade, was appalled by their Apple album, and haven’t actively listened to their music in a long, long time. But as I sat over my pints I began to realize why I was there holding onto hope – U2 is a big part of my musical journey. I remember the day my brother was given The Joshua Tree on cassette from his eventual Wife and eight year old me being absolutely blown away by what I was hearing. The first CD I bought at Fay’s Drug Store was the Unforgettable Fire and I listend to it over and over and over again. I then dived headfirst into even earlier albums such as War and October and was never disappointed – these guys were amazing.
I know in certain circles it’s not hip to like U2 anymore, and as stated above, I get it, and am partially guilty. But those four mentioned albums (and a few more not mentioned) are absolutely incredible and had a very strong impact on young me, and are part of my musical DNA. My brothers loved U2, my Mom loved U2, my friends growing up and growing old have loved U2, and like it or not – a lot of the dots in my life can be connected with U2 songs, and for that I had to take a flyer to potentially see one of the biggest bands in the world in a 250 seat room.
It was a weird and surreal night for sure, but I’m glad I sat there paying my penance for the decades worth of good music and memories they provided me, it allowed me to meditate on what U2 meant to me, all while they put on an incredible show without even being there.
Free Pizza‘s first LP, which is co-released by Bufu and Feeding Tube, is an absolute must own. The Jamaica Plain based group play a unique brand of discordant stoner jangle that’ll make you want to hug your stereo, buy it a beer, and crank the volume. Limited to only 300 copies it’s sure to go fast, but hopefully Free Pizza will be sticking around for awhile – as they’re a band that’s got me pretty damn excited for 2015.
Mean Creek are one of the more exciting bands in Boston, and have garnered a good amount of National buzz over the past year on the heels of their latest album, Local Losers. Their music could easily have fit into the catalogues of Sub Pop, Matador, or Touch and Go in the 90’s – but don’t be mistaken, these kids are no nostalgia act, and interject their songs & videos a with poignant passion, creativity, and abandon that’s uniquely their own, and why the spark created by these local losers, is creating a blaze that’s visible far beyond the Hub.
- Buy Mean Creek’s new LP, Local Losers, via Old Flame Records
- See Mean Creek at TT the Bears this Thursday – 11/06
Recommended If You Like: Yuck, Dinosaur Jr, Condofucks
The Blackjacks should have been to Boston what The Replacements were to Minneapolis – a revered, influential, flawed, and cornerstone band. Instead they went off the rails too soon leaving two killer records as their epitaph wrapped in a whole bunch of what-if’s. Playing snarled rock in near drag was not normal in mid-80’s Boston, and despite some moderate local success, the band never got past their own demons or insecurities. Both Basic Blackjacks and Dress In Black are absolutely essential albums – and as far as Boston rock goes, should be mentioned in the same breath as The Real Kids and Modern Lovers, but they’re not because they let substance derail their junk train – total bummer.
Reading Boston Rock Archives biography on the Blackjacks is another must – where quotes like the below bring into focus why their music was so potent, raw, and short lived.
After the gig, Angel was out-of-control enraged, and his bandmates dosed his beer with Valium to try and sedate him, not knowing he’d already downed a handful of the benzo’s. Out for three days.
Recommended If You Like: The Replacements, Mid-70’s Stones, MC5
My good friends at G2 Technology Group were kind enough to have me spin some music as they hosted the Innovation District Summer Social in the Seaport this week. The near four hour set will help groove you into whatever weekend shenanigans you have on your agenda.
I first heard Endation at the Benefit for the Victims of the Boston Marathon at TT the Bears in April and the two-piece had a huge impact on me. After the bombings weird became the new normal, leaving my psyche scrambled and daily view skewed. Other bands played before Endation that night, but it wasn’t until they plugged in that I was yanked from my thousand yard stare state and smacked back into reality. God Bless Rock & Roll.
Since that night I’ve developed a soft spot for Endation, and when the opportunity presented itself to help with their first Music Video it was a no-brainer. The video was for “Staab” – the opening track off their stand-out album The Absence of Everything. Anthony Conley (vocals & guitar) informed me the song’s about having no control, however, they certainly had control of their vision for the video. Directed by the talented Michael J. Epstein and produced by Sophia Cacciola – their skillful, fun, and adept work made the possible real, as a group of great people converged at Studio 52 in Allston for the shoot.
I won’t give too much away, but there was blood, rock & roll, a wraith-like creature, and a mental hospital vibe. I also got to die twice, which was the least I could do, given Endation brought me back to life in April.