Saddest Quo
Sporting long locks and a full beard that seem ill-advised given this endless bummer summer, Joe Pernice steered the latest incarnation of The Pernice Brothers through highlights of their eight years of bittersweet indie-pop. The current lineup, featuring Bigger Lover Patrick Berkery on drums, contains only two original members — Pernice and guitarist Peyton Pinkerton. All the same, the group ably essayed the likes of "Water Ban" and "Shoes and Clothes," as well as some of the sturdier compositions from this year's too-airy Discover a Lovelier You (Ashmont). But it wasn't till the encore, beginning with a stark, solo "Bum Leg" and the foolproof guitar cadences of "Flaming Wreck," that Pernice's true modus operandi — at once dark and ethereal — took center stage.
--Michael Pelusi
The Pernice Brothers Aug. 12, The North Star

Hallelujah
The first time you hear Holly Golightly, something starts nagging at your brain: That soothing/charming/nearly-grating voice. So familiar. Who does she sound like? Is it a British Dolly Parton? No, but Holly Go sure knows her way around big country love songs. A caffeinated Beth Orton? Nope, and look at you, thinking about folk at a rock show. Is it June Tabor? Margaret Thatcher? Ricky Gervais? No, no, no, and, really, you're running out of Brits and embarrassing yourself. Anyway, I've got it: It's Amy Poehler. What do you mean you don't know who that is?

Of course, that's not what you're thinking about the whole time you're listening to Holly Go. Mostly you're thinking, on a song-by-song basis, either, "she really misses some dude" or "damn, she's totally kicking some dude to the curb." That's the way the cookie crumbled at The Khyber on Saturday: Either there was a tear in the beer or the boots were made for walking. But at the end of the set, the second guitar was traded in for a groovy Wurlizter and a strange thing happened. Southern charm gave way to Ray Charles-like R&B rock. Formerly upright citizens ceased the swaying and swooning and started dancing with abandon. Suddenly, to this puddle of drunk, twirling indie kids, Holly Golightly sounded like something they'd never heard before.
--Patrick Rapa
Holly Golightly Aug. 13, The Khyber

Reverse Angle
Bill Frisell doesn't much like to talk, though he loosens up enough to tell a joke — the old one about a royal potato family and Dan Rather. (I'm sure you've heard it.) The fun he's having with his organ trio is evident even from my back-corner vantage point behind the stage, where I can glimpse Frisell's broad smile when he turns slightly. If I crane my neck past the next table, I can just make out Sam Yahel's head over his organ, though I have to wait until another table empties to confirm that yes, that's Joey Baron on drums. Their set is one long, hypnotic groove, taking on two Dylan covers among lots of playful back-and-forth that doesn't need to be seen to be appreciated. And being seated back in the nether regions means I don't have to feel guilty over not ordering an overpriced dinner.
--Shaun Brady
Bill Frisell Aug. 13, Zanzibar Blue

Atmospheric Pressure
It was apparent that catchy hooks and driving choruses were out the window on this night. The aforementioned windows were also shut as a result of noise complaints from the previous week. Needless to say this made things difficult for Jeremy Barnes of A Hawk and a Hacksaw, who with his makeshift drum set and accordion in tow, wore a winter hat attached with bells and a drum stick which he occasionally used to strike cymbals. By the end of the night, the windows were opened and the street sounds danced with the gentle rhythms of Cecile Schott from Colleen as she bounced from traditional guitar to violin and wind chimes. But no summer wind came blowing in.
--D.J. Short
A Hawk And A Hacksaw / Colleen Aug. 13, Space 1026

Concert Under the Tempest
The blackening skies to the northwest looked menacing for a moment, but they came with the territory. It's one of the risks inherent within Upper Merion Township's Concerts Under The Stars series — that those stars could be covered up by heavy clouds that might in turn dump rain on the attendees picnicking in the park below. For Sunday's performance by Richard Shindell and Cheryl Wheeler, that threat became a promise toward the end of sleepy opener Sonya Kitchell's set. What was initially a gentle breeze refreshing the audience after a sweltering day became more forceful as dark clouds convened and deep rumbling commenced in the distance. The ringing final notes of Wheeler's first song were cut short as organizer David Broida grabbed the microphone to say lightning had just been spotted in the distance. Immediately you could see who among the crowd lacked experience watching folk singers play in the rain, as they screamed in terror, grabbed their belongings, bolted for their cars and took off toward Valley Forge Road. During a 15-minute break (Broida promised if the rain did crash down, the concert would be held indoors in the township building's auditorium), stalwart attendees huddled in ponchos and watched the deluge seemingly pardon the concert grounds. Lightning was everywhere, rain was visible up and down the road, but the concert grounds somehow stayed dry. Applause rang out as the crew began reassembling the stage once it was clear the nasty weather had moved on, and Wheeler picked up where she left off, dedicating the hurricane anthem "Here Come Floyd" to the tempest that had just passed.
--John Vettese
Cheryl Wheeler Aug. 14, Concerts Under The Stars