OK, we already know exactly what you’re thinking: “Wow. A whole festival devoted to keyboards!” That’s it, right? Only thing about the heading that gripped you? Or was it the fact that BEN FREAKIN’ FOLDS is going to be in KALA-MA-FREAKIN-ZOO, and oh hey, that’s kind of right next door, no matter where you are in West Michigan.
In case you haven't heard of her, Jillian Michaels is a lot like the real life version of Brooke Windham, Ali Larter's character from the original Legally Blonde. The difference is, Michaels didn't get to where she is by bending and snapping; rather, she's a genuine self-help, self-styled fitness guru with a sense of integrity that stretches beyond the length of a dollar sign.
The way things are going in the record industry, very few artists can still maintain a stance of true independence without also looking like total weenies/posers. The exception to this rule is Trace Bundy, a legitimately swinging solo musician who bears the notable distinction of having sold close to 100,000 albums on his personal label, Honest Ninja Music. How's that for integrity?
Um, OK, this probably isn't too much of an earth-shattering confession, but we here at Revue love a good revue. Even better if said revue includes many shirtless performers and both the words "men" and "male" in the title. (Just in case we were unsure of which junk would be waggling it up on stage.) Oh, and it looks like there's going to be magic involved. And it's ST. FREAKING PATTY'S DAY.
From what we've heard, taking in a live performance by The Blow sounds an awful lot like sitting through a 3-D showing of the Johnny Depp version of Willy Wonka. Except in this scenario, the film is also being projected onto an IMAX screen. And there are actual Oompa Loompas doing cartwheels through the aisles.
If the witches and wizards of the Potter-verse get to have Wizard Rock, then it stands to reason that all other realms of magical beings should get to have their own genre of Ghoul Tunes (™ pending).
When this jazz man is testifying, y'all better be lining up to sing "Amen!" In this case, the jazz man in question is Gregory Porter, and what he's testifying about is nothing but pure, unadulterated, smooth jazzy-jazz at its very jazziest.
You can't get more romantic than taking in a performance of West Michigan's most divine and renowned ballet company on the day of Saint Valentine. How about if we add rubies to the mix? (Because diamonds = totally played out.)
Oh, those silly Canadians. First they gave us maple syrup. Then Rush. Then Bieber. Now, evidently not satisfied with this everlasting legacy of pure awesomeness, our neighbors to the Great White North have thrust into our eardrums Walk Off The Earth, a minimalist five-piece that has been lighting up the tubes (specifically, the YouTubes) since its debut.
Let's face it – there aren't many reality show/talent contest castaways who end up capturing our hearts long after their 15 minutes have waxed and waned. Tony Lucca, singer-songwriter extraordinaire, is just one of these lucky individuals.
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