Upcoming Concerts – New York City 2012

Photo: Andrew Prokos

2012 Sep 29 – 2013 Jan 11

Sep 29 The Black Keys Central Park (Saturday 5:00 PM)

Sep 29 Strawberry Fields B.B. King Blues Club and Grill

Sep 30 Harlem Gospel Choir – B.B. King Blues Club and Grill

Oct 17 Johnny Winter Opening Act: DEBBIE DAV… B.B. King Blues Club and Grill

Oct 25 Counting Crows Roseland Ballroom

Oct 25 Grimes Music Hall of Williamsburg

Nov 16 Lamb of God Roseland Ballroom (Friday 6:00PM)

Nov 28 The Gaslight Anthem Terminal 5 (Wednesday 7:00 PM)

Nov 29 The Gaslight Anthem Terminal 5 (Thursday 7:00 PM)

Nov 30 The Gaslight Anthem Terminal 5 (Friday 7:00 PM)

Dec 20 Leonard Cohen Barclays Center

Dec 28 My Morning Jacket The Capitol Theatre

Dec 31 Gov’t Mule Beacon Theatre

Dec 31 Nas Radio City Music Hall

Jan 11 Dirty Projectors Carnegie Hall

new york city panorama by louis terline
Where in New York is this?
New York City Panorama. A scale model of the Five Boroughs of New York City designed for the 1964 World’s Fair at the Queens Museum of Art in Flushing Meadow Park.

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The Gaslight Anthem is on tour!

The Gaslight Anthem

The band:
Brian Fallon – vocals/guitar
Alex Levine – bass
Ben Horowitz – drums
Alex Rosamilia – guitar



Tickets one sale now!

Sep 20 Houston, TX Bayou Music Center

Sep 21 Pensacola, FL De Luna Fest

Sep 24 Denver, CO The Fillmore Auditorium

Sep 25 Denver, CO The Fillmore Auditorium

Sep 28 Mesa, AZ (Phoenix metro area) Mesa Convention Center

Sep 30 Oakland, CA (San Francisco metro area) Fox Theater

Oct 1 Las Vegas, NV Hard Rock Hotel and Casino

Oct 2 Reno, NV Grand Sierra Resort, Grand Theatre

Oct 4 Victoria, Canada Save On Foods Memorial Centre

Oct 15 London, UK (London, UK) O2 Academy Brixton

Oct 17 London, UK (London, UK) O2 Academy Brixton

Oct 18 Manchester, UK O2 Apollo Manchester

Oct 19 Glasgow, UK O2 Academy Glasgow

Oct 20 Birmingham, UK O2 Academy Birmingham

Oct 21 Bruxelles, Belgium Ancienne Belgique

Nov 27, 2012 Philadelphia, PA The Electric Factory

Nov 28, 2012 New York, NY Terminal 5

Nov 29, 2012 New York, NY Terminal 5

Brian Fallon of The Gaslight Anthem talks about his moving to Brooklyn

“I needed to find my own story, away from my parents’ and friends’ stories.” ~ Brian Fallon

New Jersey has a long, proud tradition of inspiring people to get the hell out of New Jersey. For the hardest-working band in punk, that just might be their path to glory. [Spin Magazine excerpt]

Four days after Times Square was evacuated on account of an undetonated Pathfinder, it’s as swarming with tourists as ever, necks craning from atop Gray Line double-decker buses for better views of the billboards above and the poor flunkies sweating through Elmo and SpongeBob costumes below.

One of these buses, however, contains visitors not from Germany or Indiana, but from New Brunswick, New Jersey (Exit 9, thanks for asking). Mostly it’s an excuse to tool around the city on a day custom-made for just that. But at the risk of shining too bright a light on the inner machinations of a contemporary music magazine, the tour bus hired to leisurely chauffeur the Gaslight Anthem around New York City on this brilliant May afternoon is also a metaphor. This band, so associated with blue-collar Jersey lore and iconography that they bring up the Born to Run allusions so you don’t have to, have left the comfort of home to seek the big time. Metaphorically speaking. But also, they don’t live where they used to.

“Only in New Jersey would the state song be about leaving it,” says lead singer/guitarist/major­domo and recent Brooklyn transplant Brian Fallon, firing up another Marlboro Light and ducking low-hanging traffic lights along 42nd Street. He clutches a bottle of Coke while drummer Benny Horowitz, guitarist Alex Rosamilia, and bassist Alex Levine flout open-container laws and swig beers procured from a gouge-happy Times Square bodega — $55.56 for three six-packs, domestic. All four members have lived within an hour of the city most of their lives, save for the nearly 600 shows they played circa their 2008 breakthrough, The ’59 Sound. (“I think that’s what makes a Jersey band,” says Rosamilia. “They don’t ever go home.”)

And like many Garden Staters, they’re accustomed to being in the shadow of Manhattan rather than in its thrall: close enough to pop in and see a band play, but far enough that enterprising young punks had to make their own fun, staging all-ages shows at the local Elks lodge, as Horowitz did as a teenager. The band suggest a visit to Five Points, the infamous 19th-century slum (see: New York, Gangs of); told that it’s now an anonymous block in the financial district, they shrug and go back to their beverages.

“Welcome to our country!” bellows a pedestrian below.

“I want to know what these neighborhoods were like 40 years ago,” Fallon, 30, told me earlier. “I’m always looking for that thing because there used to be something to chew on, and now there’s nothing.”

“There’s almost too much going on here for me,” says Horowitz, 29, who recently moved from New Brunswick to nearby Jersey City to live with his girlfriend. “My plan was to never really leave central Jersey.”

Fallon, however, has grown restless, to his band’s benefit. To say that on their third album, American Slang, the Gaslight Anthem have outgrown and outstripped their VFW hall roots is only part of the story. They are alternately homesick and sick of home. Unsurprisingly for a band that has the word anthem in its very name, the record sounds big and sounds like it wants to be big, embracing comparisons to populist world-beaters like Springsteen and Tom Petty in a way that somehow doesn’t feel incongruous with the DIY punk world they still very much inhabit.

“Too many bands are embarrassed about success,” Fallon says. “If someone tells you they don’t aspire to be the biggest band in the world, it’s like, why even bother? Who doesn’t want to be the Rolling Stones? Where you get lost is when you try to be that.”

Put another way: They’re pulling out of here to win.

Brooklyn’s Prospect Park is a sprawling, lush 585-acre expanse that would be the crown jewel of any city that didn’t happen to also have Central Park. Brian Fallon moved two blocks away from its Grand Army Plaza entrance six months ago, but this is his first time here. It’s yet another brilliant spring afternoon, a few days before the bus ride, and the park is bustling with people on wheels: walkers, wheelchairs, strollers, bikes.

With most of his exposed skin covered in tattoos, Fallon looks like a refugee from a less genteel corner of the borough as he’s parked on a bench sipping a coffee. It could certainly be reasoned that shacking up in Brooklyn is de rigueur for any East Coast band on the make — sign a lease in Williamsburg, then wait a couple weeks to be featured in glossy roundups with Dirty Projectors. But this is not that Brooklyn, and Brian Fallon is not that wily a strategist.

Brian Fallon and his wife.

“I’m not gonna move to Williamsburg; those people freak me out,” he says. “But really, I don’t care where I live.” Fallon’s wife, who’s from the Bronx, was eager to move back into the city, and she found the apartment while he was in the thick of recording American Slang at the Magic Studio in downtown Manhattan. And with the next year and a half or so set aside for touring, he’s not exactly putting down roots. The move was more about where he wasn’t living. “I was looking to get lost,” he says. “No one I know is from here, no one I admire. Nothing familiar, no history I can gravitate to. I needed to find my own story, away from my parents’ and friends’ stories. Time for me to put on my own shoes.”

Q&A: Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon on Big Ambitions, Bonding With Fans

Fallon recording in Nashville.
Photo: RS

Last year, The Gaslight Anthem’s frontman Brian Fallon shut off his internet connection and immersed himself in “weird” poetry by T.S. Eliot and poured his most personal lyrics ever into the notebook. “There are no characters or painted pictures of some other time like before,” he told Rolling Stone. “I wanted to write something directly to you.” Once the bandmates had hashed out the new material in Jersey, they moved to Nashville into a rented house with photos of Faith Hill and Tim McGraw on the walls. “We didn’t know anybody down here,” said Fallon. “It was just us and the songs.” They blitzed through more than a dozen tunes in a month, with producer Brendan O’Brien, whom they worship for his work with Pearl Jam, Rage Against the Machine and Springsteen. “I thought he wouldn’t be impressed with anything,” said Fallon, “but he’s pure stoke.”

Brian Fallon of the Gaslight Anthem performs at Lollapalooza in Chicago.
Photo: Daniel Boczarski/Redferns via Getty Images


‘We want to be a big band, but we don’t want to be your best friends’

August 8, 2012

“It is what it is.” Brian Fallon likes this phrase. Chatting with Rolling Stone backstage at Lollapalooza Sunday after the Gaslight Anthem played before an estimated 20,000 fans, the 32-year-old frontman says it several times. The seeming indifference doesn’t necessarily jibe with his hard-ass rock star persona, but as Fallon puts it, he’s done trying to please: “You can’t placate people,” he says.

On Handwritten, the Gaslight Anthem’s new album, Fallon unspools his usual tales of struggle and triumph; they arrive in anthemic, Springsteen-ian form, but with a biting punk ethos. As the New Jersey rocker tells Rolling Stone, he’s not looking to be anyone’s new drinking buddy. “Let’s communicate,” he says of his desired band-fan relationship. “But we don’t have to sit down and have dinner.”

The Lollapalooza crowd gave you a lot of love.
You kinda can’t ask for better than that. There was a lot of people there.

You guys have played to massive crowds at this point. Does it still register in your head how many people you’re performing for?
You see whatever’s in front of you, and then you kind of don’t look around too much besides that. You kinda look to the left and then you look to the right. There’s, like, people all up in the trees. There’s just people for miles. They said that it was 20,000. I don’t know how they got that number. How do you gauge? What does 20,000 people look like? I’ve played in front of a lot of crowds, but I can’t assess how big they are. Once you get 10,000 and up, it just looks massive.

You opened with “Mae,” one of the slower songs off Handwritten.
It’s real slow. It’s odd. People are like, ‘Why are you doing that? Why are you starting with a slow song?’ It’s because that’s what we do. When we’re playing our own shows, we kind of have this flow that goes much like a play. For us it’s just night to night. It’s different. You’re coming to see us, but whatever you get, that’s what you get. Some nights you get, as they say, the hits set. Or some nights you get the weird set. I’m not gonna go out there and play the same thing every night. Some bands do that. It drives me crazy. Fortunately for us, there’s not like really a “hit song.”

And yet you’ve been able to steadily build this massive following. 2010’s American Slang felt like a monumental moment.
That was hype, though. That felt fake to me. This “saviors of rock & roll” and all this nonsense. Like, c’mon man! We have two records, really. It just seemed bound to not work like that.

Did the build-up to Handwritten feel more genuine?
With this record it was more, ‘Look, the record’s good and you should listen to it.’ And the rollout or whatever they do, the advertising, they didn’t really say anything about it: here’s the picture of the band, this is what the record’s called. Even our bio isn’t a bio. Nick Hornby wrote it. And it has nothing to do with a bio. He’s awesome. Can you believe it? It’s like having e.e. cummings write a bio. It’s awesome. Now it’s just less about the marketing. It’s not about any of that stuff anymore and I don’t care about it. You can’t placate people.

It must be nice to be in a position to say, “Look, take our music for what it is.”
It is what it is. If you like it, cool. If you don’t like it, well then, OK, there’s probably something else. I’ve always said it’s easier for bands to make a hard stance – like, we don’t do commercials or whatever, blah blah blah – when you’ve sold billions of records. It’s super-easy to be righteous when you’re rich. If you’re in our position, it’s just like, we gotta do this for what we love and not for any other reason, or else we’re just gonna be unhappy, you know?

Now that Handwritten has been released, where is your head at?
You’re in the ether. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. ‘Cause I don’t read any of the press or the reviews – just ’cause I don’t; I can’t do it. I’m not thick-skinned enough, and that’s not why we’re playing. So I don’t know what people are saying a lot of times. I’m not really into the numbers game of, like, what position our record is. But you find out at the end, you know? You’re like “Oh, all right! That’s good!” We had a Number Three record. That’s crazy! What’s that about? That’s exciting to me! I think that’s good. A lot of bands are kind of shameful about it. We want to be big . . . we want to be a big band, but we don’t want to be your best friends. You don’t know me.

Brand New, man. That band said it the best on that Devil and God (Are Raging Inside Me) record when he just goes, “I’m not your family, I’m not your friend, I’m not your lover, yeah!” That’s it: I’m just a man who knows how to feel. That’s my motto. Let’s communicate. But we don’t have to sit down and have dinner.

The honesty in your songs is a major reason why many have compared you to Springsteen.
And that’s kind of the vibe with the whole record – the whole band, actually. It is what it is, you know what I mean? That’s how I kind of view everything. It really is what it is at the end. You can’t shape it. You can’t change it. Your life is what it is.