TONITE: Win Tix To See My Morning Jacket


Tenth lucky reader to sign up for our email mailing list (at the bottom of the black box to the right that says FOLLOW US at the top) wins a pair of tickets to see My Morning Jacket and Band Of Horses at the Mann tonight (Friday, 8/18). Good luck and godspeed.

PREVIOUSLY: Which is not to say that those seats weren’t completely filled with stubbly, red-eyed young men, and the women who go to concerts with them, by the time My Morning Jacket took the stage and kick-started a sweaty, fist-pumping, three hour hoedown of southern-fried beard-rock, soul power and even a little reggae carpetbaggery. Ten years on, the band’s star continues to rise — last time through they played Penn’s Landing, before that the TLA, and the days when they still played The Khyber are many beards ago, back before the truce between indie rock and the Jam Band Nation was declared at the Bonnaroo Line. The reason is simple: live they are an unstoppable force of nature. Fronted by the irrepressible Jim James — fuzzy-faced, Buddha-bellied, rocking a cape and a Cousin It haircut, whirling about the stage dervishly with a towel over his head — MMJ made it abundantly clear they were playing for keeps, slathering bruising he-man riffage and bombastic beats with ethereal harmonies, sounding like Lynyrd Skynyrd if it swallowed Big Star whole.  “Smokin’ From Shootin’” was epic, something-to-write-home-about stuff. “Phone Went West” was positively apostolic. “Highly Suspicious” was all crazy sexy Princely funk on the verses and skull-splitting, Flying Vee-powered axemanship on the choruses. “Golden” was just that, a reminder that it remains their greatest song. Reverb has always been My Morning Jacket’s best friend. Wednesday night it was practically a sixth band member, multiplying exponentially the cavernous overtones of the Mann’s domed ceiling. When Jim Jones opened his mouth to let loose one of those long ghostly falsetto whoops that seem to stretch from here to eternity, you really began to get a sense of what infinity sounds like. MORE