JoJo Gave and Got Mad Love at Republic

JoJo’s career started in the early 2000s when MTV’s TRL and the teen pop era it escorted into America’s malls and living rooms were starting their decline. She received acclaim in 2004 for the single “Leave (Get Out),” which she recorded when she was 12. The single went gold and earned her MTV Music Award, Billboard Music Award and Radio Disney Music Award nominations (she won the RD for “Best Video That Rocks”). 

Isaiah Rashad Stays Hydrated in a Steamy Parish

When Isaiah Rashad’s Lil Sunny Tour came to the House of Blues' Parish Tuesday night, the room became a sauna. The heat that simmered off the crowd rose, got trapped in the haze of weed smoke hovering overhead and then rained sweaty drops down on our heads. Rashad did his best to accommodate his moist audience, passing out water bottles and shaking others up to spray them into the crowd, although the splash radius only reached 10 or 15 rows back.

Angel Olsen Shows Off Modestly

Angel Olsen’s voice is a force of nature. It’s pained and soothing, soulful and ethereal all at once, a shock to the system of any listener with two functioning eardrums and a beating heart. Her lyrics feel deeply personal, often addressing a past love or an unrequited interest directly in the second person, and when her voice floats out of a pair of speakers (or better yet, headphones), she’s speaking directly to you.

Last Night: Lianne La Havas Falls in Love

No musician says to the people who came to the show, “On a scale of one to 10, you’re a six,” but when Lianne La Havas giddily thanked the audience again and again at the Civic Saturday, it felt pretty genuine. At the end of the encore, the keyboard player stood on his stool to applaud its passion and enthusiasm, and La Havas posed goofily in front of the crowd for pictures her backing vocalist shot on her phone. 

Last Night: Kraftwerk's Songs of Future Past

Kraftwerk’s signature song is “The Robots,” and for much of its career, the members deliberately performed as if they were mechanical, dispassionately executing the task at hand. At the Orpheum Friday, the members gently rocked and occasionally leaned forward to tweak the keyboards spread out on the four identical, neon-bordered pedestals that they stood behind. They looked like bankers dressed for battle in the remake of Tron, and by ordinary band standards, were stiff and motionless.

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