Grab your free tickets to see Kirsten Price and Clear Grey at The Pike Room (1 South Saginaw, Pontiac, MI) Friday February 6th. Doors @ 7ppm. Tickets $10 in advance, a limited number will be given away for Free! next week on Motor City Blog.
Jan 9, 2009
MCB GIVES AWAY FREE TICKETS TO SEE KIRSTEN PRICE LIVE IN DETROIT!
Grab your free tickets to see Kirsten Price and Clear Grey at The Pike Room (1 South Saginaw, Pontiac, MI) Friday February 6th. Doors @ 7ppm. Tickets $10 in advance, a limited number will be given away for Free! next week on Motor City Blog.
Jan 8, 2009
"DEEP-DIGGING SOUL" ~ Kirsten Price performs at BAMcafé Live
30 Lafayette Ave, Brooklyn, NY: Sat, Jan 31 at 10pm
With a sound somewhere between Fiona Apple and Amy Winehouse, London-born singer/songwriter Kirsten Price has pipes that can beat both. Her debut album “Guts and Garbage” is nearly bursting with inspired ideas, all of which coalesce into infectious melodies and deep-digging soul that rival the best talents around. (Free Show) Read original BAMcafé Live post..
With a sound somewhere between Fiona Apple and Amy Winehouse, London-born singer/songwriter Kirsten Price has pipes that can beat both. Her debut album “Guts and Garbage” is nearly bursting with inspired ideas, all of which coalesce into infectious melodies and deep-digging soul that rival the best talents around. (Free Show) Read original BAMcafé Live post..
Jan 7, 2009
KIRSTEN PRICE'S TOUGH TIMES '09 TOUR: Indie Artists Driving Through the Downturn
Announcing Kirsten Price's upcoming 20 city a coast-to-coast North American winter tour January through March 2009. Dubbed the "Tough Times '09 Tour", the artist will be playing songs from her critically acclaimed 2008 debut release "Guts & Garbage" as well as showcasing material from her second solo album slated for release later in 2009.
Brooklyn, NY (Billboard Publicity Wire) January 5, 2009 -- Read More
Brooklyn, NY (Billboard Publicity Wire) January 5, 2009 -- Read More
Jan 6, 2009
Wildy's World Review: Kirsten Price - Guts & Garbage: An Instant Classic
Kirsten Price - Guts & Garbage
2008, KPI
Female vocalists who can sing soul music are all the rage again. Names like Christina Aguilera, Amy Winehouse, Macy Gray and Joss Stone sell CDs, MP3s and concert tickets by the boatload, but all have surrendered something of themselves to the music industry and its producers. London born and New York City based Kirsten Price brings the same kind of presence and big voice to the table, but Price eschewed the major label path to maintain total creative control over her material. Her debut album, Guts & Garbage is the true test of whether it's worked. Early returns suggest Price did the right thing. ~ Read more..
Oct 22, 2008
THE ALBUM JUST SIZZLES: HOT INDIE NEWS
Upon first hearing Kirsten Price, one might think her voice is a bit like Duffy. Personally, Price is in a whole different league. The music is hot, Price's sexy, sultry voice is hot, and the album just sizzles. Price has power, poise and a sensuous style that many singers strive for but never quite reach or at best, can only forge an imitation. (Original post -Hot Indie News) ~ Read more..(Hot Indie News album review by Sylla Hsu)
Sep 24, 2008
AMIE STREET ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: KIRSTEN PRICE
A believer in sheer individualism and an enemy of the monopolistic aspects of the music industry, Brooklynite Kirsten Price was testing the waters of the music world one sultry song at a time until she had enough to make a record, and her talent was soon realized by a huge pool of soulful alternative fans.Her debut album, Guts & Garbage, is full of guts -- radiating a girl power gusto like that in Carrie Underwood's atypical smash hit "Before He Cheats" -- and is anything but garbage. I know the old adage "one person's trash is another person's treasure," but each track on this energetic and honest album is an instant prize. Read more..
Jun 24, 2008
KIRSTEN PRICE CAUGHT WITH HER KNICKERS DOWN!
Well, that would have been the headline if the Paparazzi were not so interested in the Paris Hilton's and Anna Nicole Smiths of this fair young nation. Thank God for actresses who can't act and singers who can't sing, otherwise the young snapping stallions would be following me! Boy oh boy, do I have a lot to be thankful for.
I speculate that in my home town the headline would have read thus..
KIRSTEN PRICE SNAPPED BARE BOTTOMED IN BEVERLY HILLS!
That is, if it was published in "THE SUN" . A more tasteful headline in the Daily News would have read..
"KIRSTEN PRICE BARES ALL"
OK, OK. So you want to know. You KNOW you want to know, right?
Los Angeles is hot, but this was a bonafide standardized, call it anything you want, it's a heat wave. i.e. well over 100 degrees Celsius (to convert from C to F, try these calculations manually. 37 + 40 = 77, and 77 * 9/5 = 138.6. For the final calculation, remove the 40. 138.6 - 40 = 98.6 ..God bless the metric system)
So, to put it in a nutshell it's fucking hot. Colonial hot. I'm in my underwear playing a slow song on the piano and there are beads of sweat dripping down each leg, hot. Too damn hot. Obviously a siesta would have been the appropriate response but this is my second ever West Coast run and instead of a band in tow, I have:
an old Akai MPC drum machine
a mini Korg synth
a Nord Electro
an Apple laptop (let's hope Steve Jobs doesn't really have cancer, again.)
an Epiphone guitar
and a mini Line 6 POD.
In short I have way to much shit and no time to get my shit together. I can't sleep, it's showtime and it's way too hot. Instead of siesta, I opt for a short jog in the neighborhood. It's officially Beverly Hills but it's also flat, so I guess that makes it Beverly Hills Flats? Whatever. It's Beverly Hills 90210. Lot's of whitewashed buildings and white people. I like to get lost in new neighborhoods, it's my thing. So I'm running, I'm lost, I'm hot, and I need to pee. I REALLY need to pee. Since I have succeeded in straying too far and I don't know where my temporary home base is anymore, exactly. I figure that I can find a toilet, which Americans commonly refer to as a "rest room". This is an urban community in the western world. There is a public toilet within spitting distance, right? I can rest in the rest room, powder my nose, take a bath in the bath room, right? Wrong. Nobody walks in L.A. It's not like Rome. It's not "civilised", it's just the suburbs.
By the time I figure out my predicament, it's too late. My bladder is about to burst. Fortuitously I stumble upon a construction site at the corner of Oakhurst and Civic Centre. I see something that from a distance looks like a port-a potty-from the Redding Festival (now the V festival thanks to the hot and fabulous Richard Branson). No such luck, it's too big, metallic and has a hazardous waste sign on it, besides it's locked. (Yes I tried to pee in a standalone closet marked "Hazardous Waste", I was THAT desperate). If I was a bloke I would just whip it out between a high wall and a parked car, but I'm not a bloke. I don't have hairy balls or any other such convenient equipment. Uh Oh, here comes a Beagle out on a walk looking for a crumb somebody dropped between the cracks in the sidewalk back in 1974. He's sniffing forever and I need to go way more than he does. Keep sniffing Beagle Boy, you lucky little shit. I am wishing so hard that I was a dog right now.
There are 3 large yellow cranes parked in a lot next to a concrete wall. I can sneak in there and crouch down in the plants and dirt. The only people who can see me are behind a few mirror tinted office windows way, way far away. Left with no choice I bare my sparkling white bottom to the glaring LA sunshine and OH MY GOD WHAT A RELIEF.
Please let me continue my slow burn without the inconvenience of paparazzi. Let this be a lesson to jealous media whores everywhere. God bless America.
I speculate that in my home town the headline would have read thus..
KIRSTEN PRICE SNAPPED BARE BOTTOMED IN BEVERLY HILLS!
That is, if it was published in "THE SUN" . A more tasteful headline in the Daily News would have read..
"KIRSTEN PRICE BARES ALL"
OK, OK. So you want to know. You KNOW you want to know, right?
Los Angeles is hot, but this was a bonafide standardized, call it anything you want, it's a heat wave. i.e. well over 100 degrees Celsius (to convert from C to F, try these calculations manually. 37 + 40 = 77, and 77 * 9/5 = 138.6. For the final calculation, remove the 40. 138.6 - 40 = 98.6 ..God bless the metric system)
So, to put it in a nutshell it's fucking hot. Colonial hot. I'm in my underwear playing a slow song on the piano and there are beads of sweat dripping down each leg, hot. Too damn hot. Obviously a siesta would have been the appropriate response but this is my second ever West Coast run and instead of a band in tow, I have:
an old Akai MPC drum machine
a mini Korg synth
a Nord Electro
an Apple laptop (let's hope Steve Jobs doesn't really have cancer, again.)
an Epiphone guitar
and a mini Line 6 POD.
In short I have way to much shit and no time to get my shit together. I can't sleep, it's showtime and it's way too hot. Instead of siesta, I opt for a short jog in the neighborhood. It's officially Beverly Hills but it's also flat, so I guess that makes it Beverly Hills Flats? Whatever. It's Beverly Hills 90210. Lot's of whitewashed buildings and white people. I like to get lost in new neighborhoods, it's my thing. So I'm running, I'm lost, I'm hot, and I need to pee. I REALLY need to pee. Since I have succeeded in straying too far and I don't know where my temporary home base is anymore, exactly. I figure that I can find a toilet, which Americans commonly refer to as a "rest room". This is an urban community in the western world. There is a public toilet within spitting distance, right? I can rest in the rest room, powder my nose, take a bath in the bath room, right? Wrong. Nobody walks in L.A. It's not like Rome. It's not "civilised", it's just the suburbs.
By the time I figure out my predicament, it's too late. My bladder is about to burst. Fortuitously I stumble upon a construction site at the corner of Oakhurst and Civic Centre. I see something that from a distance looks like a port-a potty-from the Redding Festival (now the V festival thanks to the hot and fabulous Richard Branson). No such luck, it's too big, metallic and has a hazardous waste sign on it, besides it's locked. (Yes I tried to pee in a standalone closet marked "Hazardous Waste", I was THAT desperate). If I was a bloke I would just whip it out between a high wall and a parked car, but I'm not a bloke. I don't have hairy balls or any other such convenient equipment. Uh Oh, here comes a Beagle out on a walk looking for a crumb somebody dropped between the cracks in the sidewalk back in 1974. He's sniffing forever and I need to go way more than he does. Keep sniffing Beagle Boy, you lucky little shit. I am wishing so hard that I was a dog right now.
There are 3 large yellow cranes parked in a lot next to a concrete wall. I can sneak in there and crouch down in the plants and dirt. The only people who can see me are behind a few mirror tinted office windows way, way far away. Left with no choice I bare my sparkling white bottom to the glaring LA sunshine and OH MY GOD WHAT A RELIEF.
Please let me continue my slow burn without the inconvenience of paparazzi. Let this be a lesson to jealous media whores everywhere. God bless America.
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