Generally when I watch The Veins I'm ringside by guitarist Jett's rig as it rumbles the stage's starboard bow. I dig his tone, and his playing is as spectacular to watch as it is to hear. Black clad while slinging his orange Les Paul, Jett kept his crown Saturday, December 22, as The Veins celebrated the release of "Blood and Gold." This album is a little darker for a band that was already fairly dark to begin with. It's more layered and complex too - both in its production and songwriting. It's really, really good.But as I was saying, generally

I know, I know; it was a couple weeks ago, but the way the holidays landed I was in deadline hell. Still, I gotta say a few words about the Campbell Brothers show where close to 1,000 fans had a ball at the Harro East Ballroom. It was truly rally time with the Buddhahood providing the opening thunder and wringing everything out of itself ‘til there weren't no more. The Campbells hosted a number of cool guests, like Rochester's king of smooth, Jimmie Highsmith Jr.; Rochester's king of the blues, Joe Beard; and my man Paulie Rocco, who simply plugged

Joel Harrison's on-stage demeanor is like a boxer's telegraphed punch; you get a glimpse or hint of what's about to happen even if it's only for a split second. Harrison likes noise. But unlike those who wallow in it or allow it to dominate the proceedings until it descends into chaos, Harrison permits noise -rooted in an effects-laden guitar note or chord or pick slide -  to suggest where the music he plays on top might go. His interesting choice for a trio - guitar, bass, bassoon - jammed with the looped noise as if it were a fourth member.

Andre Foxxe has got his re-upped mothership ticket burning a hole in his pocket and his bags are packed, but the man isn't just gonna sit and wait at the airport. No, he's got rock 'n' roll burning a hole in his soul and it has gotta get out, man. Much like his music, Foxxe is a perfect amalgamation of class and danger, as if sprung from the pages of an Iceberg Slim novel. At his Friday night Montage Live Music Hall shindig, he prowled the stage like a panther in a bright yellow zoot suit with delicate wings that

Santa came down the chimney and dragged me into the 21st century when he stuck an iPod in my stocking this past Christmas. I'd wanted one for a while but felt it would mean the end of my record collection as I know it. I figured once things got loaded onto this little black gadget the size of a deck of cards, I'd no longer need to dust off the vinyl and drop the needle --- an exercise I find as exhilarating or soothing as actually listening to the music.On the other hand, the possibility of having it all right

I grew up in a house where every Sunday morning my father would spin Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane albums, so I spent my adolescence shying away from classical music, which seemed too stiff and square for my tastes. The closest I ever came to orchestras and recital halls were the albums Miles Davis put out with classical arranger Gil Evans and the occasional school band concert. But, it seems like every day there's a classical concert happening in Rochester, and most are tied somehow to the Eastman School of Music. So when it was time to explore the world

Friday night the High Fidelity crowd was a salt-and-pepper mix jacked to the max on Raul Midon's one-man funk and groove. A little rotation on BET certainly hasn't hurt. Folks howled and applauded to the tunes they recognized, and even the cuts that weren't as familiar got hung onto nonetheless. Midon's guitar playing was precise and infectious, with plenty of pop and chime, the lower register's boom dialed in at booty level. His invisible trumpet was there as well, and traded off several solos with his guitar in good natured, harmonic duels. The percussive attack, the trumpet of pursed lips