When Chris Martin announced that Coldplay was about to do something they’d “never done before” at last night’s free Madison Square Garden gig, the last thing I expected was for my nosebleeds to turn into the best seats in the house. After rocking a solid chunk of Viva La Vida and playing some obligatory hits ("Clocks," "In My Place"), the RS cover stars appeared in the middle of a second tier aisle for a hot acoustic minute. Here’s a blip I caught from their first song in the crowd with the people, “Yellow.”

I was super-excited to see the Breeders play live last week at Webster Hall in New York City — but clearly not as excited as the guy behind me. I'm pretty sure he was the President of the Breeders Fan Club (of which I'm only a member), based on the unbridled exuberance and near-orgasmic joy with which he greeted every song. Ordinarily, I'd applaud his enthusiasm. But here's the rub: dude was singing along — loudly — to every song. And not just the lyrics — our Breeders-loving hero sang along to the guitar parts too. As if he hadn't already proven his loyalty by knowing the words to songs by Kim Deal's side project, the Amps.

We all know the concert-going stereotypes: jaded hipsters who won't move a muscle versus overenthusiastic fan boys who spill their adoration and beer all over you. Lame-ass scenesters who talk through the whole show, how do you sleep at night?

(more...)

Yesterday RS.com photo editor John Gara and I learned a valuable lesson: being Frank Black for more than 20 minutes results in a sore throat. Because I've written a book on the Pixies and John is the owner of a vintage Pixies shirt, we felt most qualified to demo the new Doolittle songs that will be added to Rock Band later this month. For an hour of pure bliss, we learned which lyrics might be embarassing to yell in front of a co-worker ("Whores in my bed!"), and that we could indeed pant in harmony ("Tame"). Keep reading for our breakdown of the game's (pretty damn cool) new additions.

(more...)

Just a disclaimer: The following story will probably damage my cred, both specifically as a rock critic and generally as a human being, but many people insist I tell this tale. So enjoy this knowing that I'm risking my psychological health and whatever is left of my dignity.

Much has been made in the past few weeks of the end of the marriage between country crossover sensation Shania Twain and '80s hair metal producer Robert John "Mutt" Lange. Most of the public sympathy seems to have landed on the side of Shania, as Lange appears to have cheated on his wife with a mutual friend of theirs. I'm not the sort of guy to condone cheating, but if Lange's personal experience with Shania was anything like mine, then I'm surprised he lasted that long. Of course, I was never involved in a relationship with Shania (if I was, you can bet I wouldn't be giving my story away for free on this fine blog), but rather as an unofficial employee. For in the summer of 1998, I was a member of Shania Twain's touring band.

(more...)

Visiting the Rolling Stone offices on Friday June 6: Team Slipstream-Chipotle! No, that's not some British DJ duo — it's the classy American racing outfit that's making serious waves in the professional bike racing scene. Now you might think that the Capri Lounge is no place for a post about a pro bike racing team. Well, I think it's no place for an affectionate post about the New Kids on the Block, and we've sure had plenty of those recently. So put that in your Joey McIntyre doll and smoke it, fanboy.

(more...)