“On Thursday night at Nationals Park, a brief storm had passed, leaving the sky a deep burnt umber. A few thousand people covered the outfield, with tens of thousands more in the stands, a home run away from the stage. And just before 8 o’clock, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band opened their set with “New York City Serenade.” The Boss playing a baseball stadium in the last days of summer: Could there be anything more American?”
“Thirty years ago, Run-D.M.C. and Aerosmith teamed up for “Walk This Way,” proving to the mainstream that hip-hop and rock-and-roll had more commonalities than contrasts. The song also paved the way for three decades of rap-rock collaborations, with very mixed results. For every “Judgment Night” soundtrack there’s an album like Lil Wayne’s “Rebirth.” For every Rage Against the Machine, there’s a Limp Bizkit. And while Banks & Steelz — the pairing of Interpol frontman Paul Banks and Wu-Tang Clan mastermind RZA — never reaches Fred Durst and company’s repugnant lows, it will probably go down as a misstep for both artists, an answer to a question nobody asked.”
“A Paul McCartney concert is the most perfect expression of baby-boomer nostalgia. Which isn’t to say that there weren’t young people in the crowd: McCartney brought one 20-something signholder onstage and autographed a “Hey Jude” tattoo on her ribcage, joking that “you never know what you’re going to get up here.” That sentiment isn’t exactly true, but who needs surprises when you have a half century of memories to rely on?”
Since breaking through in 2011 with her debut single “212,” Azealia Banks has been better known for what she does on social media than on SoundCloud. That buoyant kiss-off introduced listeners to Banks’s deceptively sweet rap persona; she would ruin you with a smile before dancing on your grave. But for Banks, it’s been difficult to keep that persona from cropping up in “real life,” and she’s feuded with label bosses, producers and other artists at a head-spinning rate, often resorting to misogynistic and homophobic insults.
For an artist defined by being outspoken, Banks let the music speak for itself on Tuesday night at the Black Cat, where she made her Washington debut after canceling two previous concerts. In a spiked collar and a skintight, rainbow-striped get-up, Banks was flanked by a DJ, a drummer and a pair of yellow-clad dancers who accompanied her through a set list heavy on songs from her 2014 album “Broke With Expensive Taste.” But aside from a few “make some noise” entreaties, Banks didn’t banter with the crowd or offer notes about her songs. Perhaps she finally learned that old lesson: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.”
“On a video screen, Ellie Goulding materialized, her clothing white and her visage virginal. But as the music crescendoed, the pristine image dissolved into fragmented cuts of Goulding in black, her fingers extending from cut-off gloves. This yin-and-yang theme played out several times over the course of Goulding’s Monday night concert at Merriweather Post Pavilion — in the costumes of two dance-fighters, in lyrics like “Tell me, black and white, why I’m here tonight” — but for Goulding, the duality isn’t a Jediesque question of light vs. dark.
It’s between being a traditional singer-songwriter and a modern-day pop star, and more than any of her millennial peers, she balances both sides with aplomb.”
Selena Gomez’s “Revival” tour stopped at Verizon Center on Saturday night, and fans looking for a memory didn’t have to settle for a T-shirt or a poster: They could also take a photo against a backdrop sponsored by Pantene. Gomez is not just a spokeswoman for the hair-care company but one of the latest proponents of the music industry’s version of “lather, rinse, repeat”: Find success with Disney, branch out into pop music, mature into “adult” artist…
“You’ve seen my ups, and you’ve seen my downs,” Gomez told the packed Verizon Center crowd. “Let’s just have fun, okay?”
“Imagine what Adele would sound like if she had dabbled with GarageBand instead of picking up the guitar, and you’re halfway to Lapsley. Like that global star before her, the English singer-songwriter born Holly Lapsley Fletcher released her first album at 19 and dazzles with a smoky voice that carries the weight of a life not yet lived. But that’s where the comparison ends.”
”
On Friday night, singer-songwriter Charlie Puth opened his set with his debut single, “Marvin Gaye.” The doo-wop throwback turns Gaye’s name into a clumsy come-on — “Let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on” — and on the anniversary of his death, one couldn’t help but feel that the soul star was rolling over in his grave.
Unlike the controversy that swirled around Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines,” the most offensive thing about “Marvin Gaye” is how inoffensive it is — a bland rehash of a sound that has been pillaged by blue-eyed soul musicians for decades, with a breakdown that nods to hip-hop. (On the recording, that’s where Meghan Trainor adds a verse; in concert, Puth beat-boxes.) The song resembles the rest of Puth’s music in that it is pleasantly familiar and particularly forgettable.”
“It was a chilly, sleepy Monday night in the District, but D∆WN was ready to party. The artist formerly known as Dawn Richard took to the small stage of DC9 wearing a barely-there outfit of red-sequined hot pants, a sheer top and knee-high stiletto boots. When she asked, “So can we have some fun tonight?,” the question was clearly rhetorical.
After an instrumental introduction, Richard launched into “Faith,” a 2012 cut reminiscent of Drake and Rihanna’s “Take Care” that found her belting out “You never lost faith in me” over synth chords and a galloping club beat. The lyric is telling — it seems to speak to fans that have never given up on the singer, despite the winding path her career has taken.”
“The past decade of rap and R&B has been marked by the hybridization of both genres: rappers who sing, singers who rap, and, in the case of T-Pain, a “Rappa Ternt Sanga.” If T-Pain and Kanye West opened the door for this type of crossover, and Drake knocked the door down, then newcomers such as Bryson Tiller are walking through the Kool-Aid-Man-size hole left in their wake.
So although Tiller is not the first to bring rap sonics to R&B songcraft, he has been one of the best at branding. His debut album, “Trapsoul,” is also a self-described genre: Southern street rap meets soul, with less time spent in the trap and more time spent in the bedroom. On Sunday night, Tiller brought the “Trapsoul” movement to the Fillmore Silver Spring, performing about an hour of material for a sold-out, grown-and-sexy crowd.”
Postcultural 