Frank Stewart/Jazz At Lincoln Center

A Celebration of the Wonderful World Of Phoebe Jacobs
Rose Hall, Jazz at Lincoln Center
Thursday, May 24

The voice that filled Rose Hall first at the Thursday afternoon memorial for Phoebe Jacobs was Jacobs's own. There was her face, too, projected on a large screen in a first-tier box. It all might have seemed off-putting had any of the several hundred people who mostly filled the auditorium felt as if Jacobs, who died on April 9 at 93, was no longer present.

Just before critic Stanley Crouch kicked things off, Jacobs, via video, was recalling how Ella Fitzgerald once remarked that no one had ever thrown her a real birthday party—and how she took it upon herself to quickly organize one for Ella, with celebrants including Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, Mickey Mantle and Richard Nixon. Jacobs's was a life in and of jazz that touched all other worlds. Jazz has its heroes and heroines, some of whom make their marks behind the scenes and off in the wings. Their glory is measured not just in deeds, in how well they carried the culture forward, but also in how they carried themselves. "If there was anybody who embodied the idea of swing better than Phoebe," said Crouch, "I haven't met that person." Later, Mercedes Ellington—who was neither the first nor the last speaker to claim Jacobs as a "surrogate mother"—described Jacobs's long relationship with her storied family. "Phoebe was not a singer or an instrumentalist," she said, "but Phoebe approached life and friendships and solved problems like a musician."

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Benjamin Lozovsky

Jack White w/Alabama Shakes
Roseland Ballroom
Monday, May 21

Better than: Sweating profusely in Wichita.

Jack White doesn't seem like the type to reminisce. He's certainly wrapped in more nostalgia than penny candy, and his unflappable rise as the most artful Americana reconstructionist and thorough throwback rock star of his era has always been based around an ephemeral dialogue with the past. Still, looking longingly inward towards his own experiences and previous work never seemed to fit into White's eccentricities—slowing down for resurrection or remembrance was never an option when constantly moving and expanding one's creative abilities was the key necessity to survival.

But after the dissolution of The White Stripe, White was put in the uncomfortable position of momentary stasis. It was a true turning point, a thoughtful juncture where pure momentum didn't matter anymore. During the first of two concerts at Roseland Ballroom in support of his first solo album Blunderbuss, White seemed more aware of a tangible past than ever.

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K. Leander Williams/tru2blupix

Gil Evans Centennial Celebration
Highline Ballroom
Monday, May 21

Better than: Never witnessing a world-class band in action.

I'm actually fortunate enough to have caught the Gil Evans Orchestra in the '80s, before it became a ghost band. Back then, when the slew of clubs lining Seventh Avenue South below West 11th made that stretch prime jazz real estate, Evans was the genius you could still get within handshaking distance of every Monday night at Sweet Basil. By that time the Miles Davis collaborations that had made the arranger's reputation were decades in the past, and Evans, then in his seventies, seemed content to leave them there—much like Miles had. Anyone who came to Sweet Basil looking to hear silky bits from Birth Of The Cool, Sketches Of Spain or Miles Ahead was often in for a shock; the graceful French horns, tubas and flutes were on hand, but the arrangements were spiked with raucous grooves and guitar (borrowed from Jimi Hendrix and punk) as well as the noise of the avant-garde. Evans, born Ian Ernest Gilmore Green in Toronto, would flash a wide-eyed grin and make subtle gestures as his weekly groupings of the scene's most vibrant young sessioneers came together—and on many occasions fell apart.

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Avicii at Electric Daisy Carnival. Check out more Electric Daisy photos from Saturday and Sunday.

Electric Daisy Carnival
MetLife Stadium
May 18-20

Better than: Sucking on lollipops without musical accompaniment.

The premise behind festivals like the Electric Daisy Carnival creates an odd situation. By bringing a late-night world that typically exists in hot, dark rooms into the outdoors, the face paint and body glitter covering this dance music subculture's fans become illuminated by the harsh light of day.

The topic of "candy ravers" has become a bit of a cliché when discussing events like EDC, which made its New York debut this year after packing in crowds around the country for more than a decade. I'll do my best not to beat a dead horse, although in fairness the neon-and-sparkle combinations normally worn by people attending megaclubs like Pacha beg to be noticed. The combination of excessive makeup, bright colors, and minimal clothing made the spectacle even more of a sight.

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via Great GoogaMooga

Daryl Hall and John Oates. Check out more photos from GoogaMooga

The Great GoogaMooga
Prospect Park
Sunday, May 20

Better than: Eating anything in my fridge.

Vineland. Field Day. All Points West. New York is littered with the acrid corpses of past festivals, a perpetual tease giving hope to the most jaded music fan that maybe this year, someone will get it right. Figuring out why New York hasn't had a long-running festival has been a parlor game in the music industry for years, but the Great GoogaMooga, the new food/music hybrid festival organized by the people behind Bonnaroo and Outside Lands, seemed like a front-runner to break the curse.

In theory, it's a great idea: Collect 75 food vendors from disparate parts of New York, book energetic groups like disco revivalists Escort and retro-soul group Fitz & the Tantrums, and turn Prospect Park into one giant tasting menu. The best laid plans...

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Kindness
(le) Poisson Rouge
Thursday, May 17

Better than: You.

Adam Bainbridge, mastermind of UK electro project Kindness, is a cool guy, but he might be just a little too cool for his own good. Last night at (le) Poisson Rouge—where Kindness made its New York City debut—Bainbridge firmly established himself as a powerful and talented stage presence. But he also showed himself to be willing to undermine that charisma with snide, off-the-cuff comments and an arrogant, almost pretentious attitude.

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The Men.

Ty Segall, White Fence, Strange Boys, The Men
Webster Hall
Wednesday, May 16

Better than: Whatever the previous "Show of the Century" was.

It's hard to pinpoint the best part of last night's dizzying, unpretentious four-band bill at Webster Hall, which Bowery Presents billed as the "Show of the Century." Was it when the Men played all the way through their new, still-untitled followup to 2012's fabulous Open Your Heart? Or perhaps it was when Tim Presley of White Fence threatened the crowd because he got a beer tossed at him, then sweetly apologized? Or maybe it came at the end of the night, when Ty Segall finished his set, paused, looked over the rabid crowd and took a big, well-deserved bow?

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Beach House w/ Zomes
Bowery Ballroom
Tuesday, May 15

Better than: Having to wait two more months to see Beach House perform at Summerstage.

I've never had 500-plus people in the palm of my hand, but I imagine it must be a powerful feeling. Every eyeball fixated on you, every pair of hands waiting for you to stop singing so they can clap. At this point in their careers, Beach House's members should be no strangers to this feeling, yet their sheer charisma makes it seem like a brand new feeling for them. At the Bowery Ballroom—during a show celebrating the release of their gorgeous fourth album, Bloom—the band unleashed sound and fury and a lot of bright lights. As colors faded in and out of sight, seemingly in tandem with the intensity of singer Victoria Legrand, the trio showered the adoring crowd with the music they so desperately craved. There may have been tears from a gentleman behind me, although those might have come because the other half of Beach House, Alex Scally, was ignoring his obnoxious shouts of "ALEX!"

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Mares Of Thrace w/Batillus, Sky Burial, Mortals
St. Vitus
Tuesday, May 15

Better than: Sitting home and reading tweets about the Beach House show.

First things first: in Greek mythology, the Mares of Thrace were four man-eating horses Hercules had to capture for his eighth labor, a feat he accomplished by getting the horses to eat their own master, which sedated them enough for him to steal them. It's a good story and a better band name, and the Mares of Thrace that played St. Vitus on Tuesday would not be subdued quite so easily, though they certainly arrived in a slightly weakened state.

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Rustie.

Rustie w/Mess Kid, Kilo Kish, Spaceghostpurrp
Santos Party House
Tuesday, May 15

Better than: Being in a quiet, big room.

Glaswegian producer Rustie (born Russel Whyte) makes huge dance tracks that are helping define a new maximalist, everything-goes ethos in electronic dance music. The basement of Santos Party House, where he headlined the Shortcuts party last night, is relatively tiny. This resulted in people new to the space, but familiar with Rustie's work, inspect its close walls quizzically, seemingly wondering how so much sound was going to fit into such a small space.

As it turned out, the sound fit just fine. Despite having to wait an hour and a half for initial opening act Mess Kid to arrive, and another two and a half for the man himself, the crowd thrilled to Rustie. He responded to the enthusiasm deftly, playing well enough to merit an encore even as half the crowd was exhausted to the point of collapse, but still awake enough to thrash around and elbow each other's faces until Whyte's laptop was shut for good.

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