The miniresidency “Ms. Ezra Furman Doing What She Wants” returns to The Rockwell on Wednesday and Jan. 8.
The obvious question to ask is what does Ms. Ezra Furman, in fact, want to do? I reached out to Furman for comment but did not hear back as of press time. I can only assume that she’s still deciding.
Furman has options. The musician is a writer, the writer is a musician and both are storytellers. You might sit yourself down on the ground of The Rockwell, cross-legged style, and listen while the artist spins a yarn. Or maybe it’s a full set devoted to her latest album “Goodbye Small Head.” If it’s a musical set focused on the latest album, expect punk rock experimentation with some vintage nods and an instinct for anthemic moments.
In Furman’s own words, “GSH also reflects a band reaching a new peak of our powers. If I were a music journalist, I would call this an orchestral emo prog-rock record sprinkled with samples. Thank goodness I’m not a music journalist!”
Go tell it to the “Books” section at your website.
Hit this
Friday: The Ghouls, Prince Rupert Glass, Baby Bowler (Cantab Lounge, Cambridge)
I fell into a conversation with a stranger on the 66 bus the way that two “old timers” who lived before the age of smartphones can. He was wild about live music, but had fallen out of the loop. He was surprised to hear that the Cantab Lounge was still open. Very much so. The Central Square spot, established in 1938, still advertises “Live Music 7 Days A Week” under new ownership, following what felt like an interminable period of uncertainty connected to Covid closings and various dustups at the management level. Enjoy a rock ’n’ roll lineup at Black Friday Bash 3 in the Cantab Underground. Which is no longer called “Club Bohemia” – don’t ask why.
Saturday: Camilo Quintero (The Mad Monkfish, Cambridge)
The 19-year old Venezuelan vocalist and Berklee student has already won her share of plaudits from DownBeat magazine and other stanchions of the Jazz Industrial Complex. But she’s yet to win this column’s semiregular and semihonorable “After Midnight” award. The Fringe recently claimed the prize for its free jazz residency at The Lilypad, appearing every Monday at 10:30 p.m. I might have to slide the prize along to Camilo Quintero because her show doesn’t even get rolling until the witching hour. Catch her at midnight at The Mad Monkfish, after all the squares have gone to bed and night creatures rule the land.
Dec. 4: Claire Rousay (The Rockwell, Somerville)
A little over a year ago the ambient musician Claire Rousay performed the melancholy field recording “somehow” at the Middle East. I didn’t recognize the unreleased song. The main audio sample that drives the composition records a young woman with an anomalous European accent telling her personal story about trying and failing to get guest listed for a Rousay concert. “Profiles In Courage,” it’s not. But set against moody synth keys, the sound collage paints an impressionistic and emotionally intense portrait of the frivolities of fandom in our parasocial present. Rousay has a talent for making art that far exceeds the sum of its parts. The song “somehow” is now available via her latest album “A Little Death.” Will you hear it at The Rockwell? The musician might have already moved on to performing newly unreleased songs off her next unreleased album.
Live: Dayes at The Jungle
A quadruple stack of rock ’n’ roll coalesced in Union Square on Saturday night, forming a celebratory circle around the release of Daye’s debut record “Up On The Rooftops,” a gentle, folky rocker of an album with willowy vocals that you wouldn’t be embarrassed to recite in front of your mother.
Before the start of the show, Patrick Morelli, the musician behind Dayes, worked the crowd with some good old-fashioned DIY self-promotion. He offered entry into a Dayes merchandise sweepstakes in exchange for your email address. The marketing gurus are always telling us that email addresses are gold. If there’s any truth to that old line, they’re probably worth a free T-shirt too.
Morelli got a few takers, including myself, and a semiregular newsletter is probably coming our way in the near future.
It’s 2025. Marketing software is free or else cheap as sin. We’re all drowning in “content.” Asking someone to sign up for your newsletter feels like a perverse and cruel act. And yet, and yet …
Here’s a brief counterargument in favor of newsletters. In a moment when mysterious algorithms manage our informational horizons in social media and Internet searches, newsletters maintain a direct and unmediated line of communication. As long as there’s a clearly marked “Unsubscribe” button, I’m willing to roll the dice on a new pen pal once in a while, whether it’s an artist, an organization or news roundup.
The Jesse Eliza Band, The Spackles and Oddie rounded out the bill with no further newsletter offers. For shame. Somewhere in the Jungle, a Mailchimp is crying.
Michael Gutierrez is an author, educator, activist and editor-in-chief at Hump Day News.
A stronger
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Thanks for pointing out that Mad Monkfish is doing music past midnight, just the right time for good jazz. Also love to see a review of Zussamen and also Sunday music there.