MOG

I just returned from a concert at a complete hole in the wall. The kind of place that makes you want to kill yourself. I don't know how the play-things of Jenny Lewis and Conor Oberst found themselves in this spot, but they did, and they brought a guitar-shredding member of the Team Love family with them.

In case the first two references passed you by, I'm talking about Johnathan Rice and Maria Taylor. The shredder of guitars would be one Nik Freitas, of whom I have heard only McCartney-esque things.

Here's the lowdown: Freitas, the opener, is passable on acoustic guitar. He's not terrible, but he doesn't command your attention, either. He has a soft, somewhat nasally singing voice that cancels out his soft, somewhat hesitant acoustic style. Halfway through his set I was left wondering where the hell the McCartney comparisons came from. And then he showed me. Nik Freitas picked up an electric guitar and proceeded to knock out song after song, McCartney influences right and left, in lyrics, in chords and chord structures. For once in my life, I could actually hear what the critics were talking about. But this only happened when he ditched acoustic and brought a drummer and bass player on stage with him. Nik Freitas is not a singer/songwriter; he's the frontman of a band. He only shines with back up, or when he is the back up. But more on that later.

Johnathan Rice was the second act of the evening. But let me rewind a bit. I arrived at the venue early because the fliers said the show would start at 10, which was a total lie. I was checking out the merchandise table when a young man resembling Kid Rock's younger, cleaner brother shot out from behind it and shouldered me out of his way as he hurried off to some place very important. I got a good look at his face and thought, "He would make a really pretty girl if he didn't look so angry." I then looked back down at the table and saw that same face staring up at me from an album cover. That girl was Johnathan Rice. I say he looked like the clean bro of Kid Rock because of his dress: long, fitted wife beater that hugged the hips of his skinny jeans, a thin gold chain with unidentifiable pendant, and long, luscious hair that hung in his face. He's also supposedly dating Jenny Lewis, who, as music's reigning hot chick, could sort of be seen as Pamela Anderson's brainy counterpart.

My run in with Mr. Rice set the tone of the evening for me. When he took the stage, he had the look of a depressed teenager. After his first song, he chastised the crowd for sitting because it "drives him fucking crazy." Some of them stood, others sat in defiance. After the second song, he again requested that everyone stand. A few more people stood, but two loudly made their way to the exit. As he launched into the third song, Rice stared at their backs as they walked away. The look in his eyes read, "You can run now, but I <i>will</i> kill you." He seemed to take their exit rather personally. As he went through his acoustic set he seemed to abandon his quest for one audience, united in standing. He just played like it ain't no thang. His set didn't truly take off until the second half when he invited Maria Taylor on stage to play drums and Nik Freitas to play electric guitar. This is where we pick back up with Nik Freitas. When he can stand in the side lines and not have to worry about singing or fronting an act, Nik Freitas can wail on a guitar. It takes a lot to impress me, but I was floored by what he did. It was such a wonderful sound that I forgot all about Johnathan Rice up there. That little hunk of brooding Scottish trailer trash became an afterthought, kind of like, "Oh, are you still there? I hadn't noticed."

Seriously, what is Jenny Lewis doing with this guy? We're all stuck out in the desert, indeed.

(I should make it known I actually do like Johnathan Rice's music. I just found his personality to be quite nauseating.)

As for Maria Taylor, I didn't stick around for her set. It was late, I was tired, and I've seen her before. She didn't impress me then, and I didn't expect her to impress me tonight. Besides, I was eager to get the hell out of Dodge, seeing as Nik Freitas's cigarrette smoke was choking my asthmatic air ways.