Last Night's Set

Friendly Fires, the Phenomenal Handclap Band @ Le Poisson Rouge w/ pics

2009-08-14T01:27:00.011-04:00

August 12, 2009

How long does it take to set up a bunch of drums, some keyboards and two amps? Apparently, at least an hour. The wait between opener, the Phenomenal Handclap Band, and headliner, Friendly Fires, was spectacularly long (longer than either’s actual set) but fans were rewarded with two stellar, albeit stylistically different, sets. Though scruffy and spaced out like a hippy commune, deadpan spoken-word lyrics and ethereal yet funky disco beats were the essence of the Phenomenal Handclap Band’s dance-inducing mix of Italo disco and Sly Stone. In other words, Donna Summers would have been an amazing addition to their eight-piece lineup. Ending with “I Been Born Again” left me with a pleasant “Aquarius”-like after-taste. When Friendly Fires finally took the stage they were noticeably anxious from the delay but sliced the tension with the first beats of “Lovesick.” Derived from a decisively Prince meets manic polyrhythm sound, the group’s songs were both a dizzying flurry of percussion and an electric blend of guitars and programmed samples, like on “White Diamonds.” Three songs in, lead singer Ed MacFarlane was already soaked in sweat. A boyishly charismatic front man his energy and earnest Carlton dance are the fulcrum of any Friendly Fires’ show. The onerous set change only seemed to cement his vigor. His strong-enough vocals carried the sparsely arranged but densely rhythmic songs. That combination lent the group a compelling intimacy that rarely comes across on such aggressively metered songs. With the addition of a horn section carrying the main theme of “In The Hospital,” it became a dynamic cry balanced by strident guitars, sampled flutes and layers of vocals. Their presence similarly enhanced their best song, “On Board,” which digressed into an electronic paced jam with crunchy guitar licks over a throbbing bass. Ending with “Ex Lover” didn’t produce the desired acme of an encore, but was still delivered with equal panache.

The Juan Maclean @ Old American Can Factory w/ pics

2009-08-12T19:23:00.008-04:00

August 8, 2009

John Maclean, the bald front man of electronic group the Juan Maclean, was precarious and awkward in between songs during his group’s late night set at the 12 hour long Brooklyn Electronic Music Festival. At one point he waved a baggie of coke, demonstrating his incentive scheme for bandmates. At others he heavy-handedly mocked the weed “addiction” of his keyboard player, explaining, “That’s why he makes so many mistakes.” And in case his own perfections weren’t clear enough, he boasted of mastering “the hardest instrument in the world to play.” Thankfully the tight time constraints of the festival (30 minute sets) left the Juan Maclean little time for onstage banter. Instead they pummeled the crowd with driving beats, skittish synthesizer lines, and introspective meditations on love. Naturally, dance frenzy ensued. Maclean was impressive on his Theremin—an early electronic instrument played without physically touching it—sounding more precise and liberated on it since last seeing the group. Drummer Jerry Fuchs was punishing and effective behind his kit and Nancy Whang continually proves to be the perfectly earnest counterpoint to Maclean’s brashness. Rain was left to fall on subsequent band 33hz, and previous group Shy Love gained a Middle-Eastern flair to their otherwise keytar heavy songs with a live sax player. Overall the industrial setting of the Old American Can Factory was strangely intimate, lending the outdoor stage a fraternal prison-yard feel.

The Big Surprise Tour: Justin Townes Earle, the Felice Brothers, Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch, Old Crow Medicine Show @ Beacon Theatre w/ pics

2009-08-09T13:55:00.012-04:00

August 6, 2009

The Big Surprise Tour rolled into the Beacon Theatre Wednesday leaving Upper West-siders wondering, “What’s the surprise?” Those going to the show were in on the know: Justin Townes Earle, The Felice Brothers, Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch, and Old Crow Medicine Show rolled up into one big hootenanny was the “surprise.” Over the course of a three and a half hour revue, more collaborations between performers transpired than on a T.I. album and each grew rowdier than the next, feeding the crowd’s alacrity. Leading off the night the lean Justin Townes Earle was perfectly dapper and droll—his charmingly southern Prof. Harold Hill persona a direct contrast to his father’s “hardcore troubadour” image. His quick talking interludes (“Ladies and gentleman we’re gonna take a quick trip down south to Georgia next”) flowing seamlessly with his repertoire of rags were a perfect compliment for his disarming vocals. The Felice Brothers honed their brand of urban country-rock busking in the New York City subway but they performed like true Yankee bleacher creatures. Riling up the crowd with songs like “Run Chicken Run” and “Whiskey in My Whiskey”, their songs adhered to a hard-nosed insight, that’s only gained through country experience, while leaving ample room for rural romanticism. Oddly enough some members seemed to effuse hip-hop onstage: chains, flat-brimmed Yankee caps, hands pumping the rhythm, even bumping and grinding a washboard.

After recovering and refueling during intermission Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch played. Despite Rawlings’ bodily contortions they sounded smooth and soothing, a combination of viscous harmonies and familiar standards. Though the crowd was hollering for them to turn it up (especially after “Monkey and the Engineer”), they kept it mellow with “Cortez the Killer” and “I Hear Them All / This Land Is Your Land.” Ready to let themselves go, the crowd embraced Old Crow Medicine Show’s punk ethos. “Alabama High-Test” and other numbers showed an affinity for hard-strumming, harder harmonies and a preference for pot. More or less the link between most of the assembled musicians, Old Crow lead an at times entangled set of group sing-alongs at the end. Ketch Secor and Rawlings sang lead on “We’re All in This Together” while Gillian Welch carried the load on “Look at Miss Ohio.” Perhaps the best group effort came on “Wagon Wheel”, Old Crow’s signature ballad. Though its placement was predictable, the subtle force and accompanying soul of 15 musicians playing it was a nice surprise.

Justin Townes Earle and band...

the Felice Brothers...

Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch...

Old Crow Medicine Show...

Béla Fleck & Toumani Diabaté @ Central Park Summerstage w/ pics

2009-08-04T23:24:00.008-04:00

August 3, 2009

African music, both traditional and contemporary, seems to be having a moment this summer in New York City. Artists like Oumou Sanger, Rokia Traore, Asa, Amadou and Mariam, and Tinariwen have enlightened ears with stunning cultural cadences. And this past week while ivy leaguers Vampire Weekend emulated West African guitars for rain-soaked teens at All Points West, virtuosos Béla Fleck and Toumani Diabaté played to a decidedly more traditional, and erudite, crowd. They came not only for the hour of acoustic duets between Fleck’s banjo and Diabaté’s kora, but also to view “Throw Down Your Heart,” a documentary (directed by Fleck’s half-brother Sascha Paladino) about Fleck’s 2005 journey to Africa tracing the banjo’s musical roots.

Though Diabaté isn’t featured in the film their collaboration is the result. Together they performed several pieces, trading contrapuntal, almost baroque, melodies while instilling a synthetic pastoral sentiment. Solo, Fleck played songs he learned from his trip—his banjo mimicking the tonality of its ancestral organic instruments as opposed to the twang-y resonance associated with its American repertoire. But mostly he just promoted Diabaté’s exotic virtuosity (consistently referring to him as “bad ass”). Ending with “Dueling Banjos” Fleck was able to make his point even clearer.

Tangrams!

2009-07-29T12:38:00.005-04:00

I hope the album lives up to my favorite geometric pastime. And could cover be a collaboration with Kara Walker? hmmm....

Wilco, Yo La Tengo @ Keyspan Park (Coney Island) w/ pics

2009-07-15T07:28:00.011-04:00

July 13, 2009

Angst-fueled dad-rock and graying and receding hairlines was the path Wilco appeared to be forging circa 2007. The soft, but beautiful, Sky Blue Sky, had just made its way onto alternative playlists (or VW ads) and presented itself as a comfortable—read: traditional—harmonic palate, suitable for pushing strollers and reading bed-time stories. This infuriated many Wilco die-hards as they were accustomed to the unpredictable, albeit jarring, soundscapes the band had penned on their previous landmark albums, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost Is Born. The album appeared an even greater compromise towards complacency as it failed to unleash the masterful avant-garde sounds of their newest guitarist Nels Cline. “Impossible Germany” came closest to realizing Cline’s capabilities when paired against Tweedy’s dueling guitar, yet it too was mollified. In a live context songs like “Shake It Off” and “Hate It Here” became the album’s flagship contributions, but neither provoked awe nor confounding curiosity in ways Wilco was capable of.

So it was with a welcome sigh of relief that the faithful congregated at Coney Island’s Keyspan Park. Wilco was both retreating and progressing in form via their latest, and self-titled, release, Wilco (The Album), and supporting tour. Returning to their grittier guitar-driven rock they pushed the limits of the audiences’ own acoustic comfort. The packed minor-league stadium was quickly singing along to their opening, and self-titled, song, “Wilco (The Song)” though the album was officially released just two weeks prior—it had been streaming, free, on the band’s website for weeks. (The album’s motif, Wilco (The Parentheses), also appeared on assorted merchandise like, Wilco (The Tote).) As Jeff Tweedy sang offers of musical consolations (“A sonic shoulder for you to cry on/ Wilco will love you baby”) Cline’s long whining guitar lines established a coarse guitar sound that began earlier in the evening with openers Yo La Tengo. But whereas Yo La Tengo’s sound grew into densely distorted layers of guitar, particularly on their epic finale “The Story of Yo La Tango,” Wilco’s was protean, adding texture to an easy opener like, “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” or rising and falling in cathartic cycles, like on the mammoth “Misunderstood.”

As the group’s preeminent guitarist Nels Cline is best appreciated live. Though typically playing augmented sounds through various and churning out massive solos drenched with distortion, Cline got all Van Halen on “Handshake Drugs” with some tapping fills. He was continually challenged, however, in his guitar supremacy. Jeff Tweedy matched Cline’s exuberance for running around the guitar-neck during “I’m The Man Who Loves You,” even sticking out his leg at an incline to mock some of Nels’ idiosyncratic gestures. Later, during the encore, Cline and instrumentalist Pat Sansone traded blazing rock solos until finally Sansone outdid him with a sweeping strumming arc that sent his guitar pick flying into the first row.

Since the two-hour set was heavy on Wilco’s louder repertory, drummer Glenn Kotche was unable to show-off his incredibly refined touch. But louder numbers, like “I’m The Man Who Loves You” and encore “Spiders (Kidsmoke),” featuring Yo La Tengo, felt cathartic, juxtaposing echoing space with pummeling beats. Keyboard player Mikael Jorgensen, remaining a sturdy backdrop behind Tweedy and Cline’s various guitar lines, only briefly got the spotlight on “Hate It Here,” pulling out a bluesy solo and interlude jam. Providing backup vocals to Tweedy all-night was fellow founding member, and bassist, John Stirratt. His simple but alluring bass lines always balanced Cline’s progressively atonal solos, especially on the rousing, “Bull Black Nova.”

The spotlight inevitably fell on Tweedy, however. Singing lead he sounded particularly strong, his presence blithe throughout the night. Promoting the necessity of a program (for sale at the merch table), mocking song-requests by designating a crowd spokesperson, and feigning dramatic singing poses silently he flaunted his anti-rockstar sensibilities. His charm even extended to the t-shirt tossing mascots who entertained during the brief pause between Wilco’s set and first encore. The latter featured backup vocals by both Feist and Ed Droste of Grizzly Bear and the resulting harmonies on “California Stars” were stunning. An extended version of “Misunderstood” culminated in the band emphatically hitting the words “nothing” for over a minute, shaking the stadium like canon fire. After inviting Yo La Tengo onstage for an even longer version of “Spiders (Kidsmoke),” with Tweedy directing the audience in handclaps, the band came back onstage for another encore saying, “When will we be back?” They quickly ran through “The Late Greats” before finally paying homage to the proximity of Mermaid Ave with “Hoodoo Voodoo.” It was a fitting ending to an amazing show.

Setlist:
Wilco (The Song)
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart
Shot in the Arm
At Least That's What You Said
Bull Black Nova
You Are My Face
One Wing
Handshake Drugs
Deeper Down
Impossible Germany
(Take Me Out to the Ballgame – Crowd)
Jesus Etc.
Sonny Feeling
I'm Always in Love
Can't Stand It
Hate it Here
Walken
I'm the Man Who Loves You
Hummingbird
1st Encore:
Heavy Metal Drummer
You And I @
California Stars*
You Never Know*
Misunderstood
Spiders (Kidsmoke) #
2nd Encore:
The Late Greats
Hoodoo Voodoo*

@ w/ Feist
* w/ Feist and Ed Droste
# w/ Yo La Tengo

Yo La Tengo...

Wilco...

Matisyahu, Umphrey's McGee @ Central Park Summerstage w/ pics

2009-07-10T01:46:00.010-04:00

July 9, 2009

The Summerstage double bill of Matisyahu and Umphrey’s McGee made for a wildly diverse spectrum of fans from hippie to orthodox Jew, both young and old. It’s because listening to jam bands (and the pre-requisite toke) are a definitive rite-of-passage for today’s youth—and an equally enduring nostalgia trip. Studying the counterculture legacy of their parents, they understand that jam bands are the gateway dancing music for white adolescent males. But it takes time. Naturally the band played through several numbers, like “Higgins”, which was too enmeshed with dense arpeggiating guitars, before its sound ever loosened and opened up. The same applied to the dancers in the crowd. With two prolific lead guitarists—Brendan Bayliss and Jake Cinninger— carrying the majority of melodies and solos, their finger-twisting riffs required some etude-like passages to get their blood flowing. By “Turn and Run”, however, the group was practically on cruise control, undulating on the same wavelength and improvising with charted efficiency. They ended their set with a cover, “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”—which made relative sense being the longest real song the Beatles composed.

After dismantling McGee’s enormous stage set up to clear space for Matisyahu and his gyrating hops and twists, his five-piece backing ensemble sonically slid into a soft jam before the man himself emerged. Perhaps no reputation precedes any other rising artist more than Matisyahu’s: a degenerate Deadhead turned Hasidic Jew turned international reggae and hip-hop success story. Donning a weathered red trucker hat, his vocals also took a few songs before they were entirely aligned with the band. As Matisyahu sang the incredibly catchy “Time of Your Song” he quickly brought out Nelson Zands who dropped a number of exuberant rhymes before ceding the stage to his mentor. Before Matisyahu’s performance I’d never seen a Hasidic Jew dance or spin as much to such heavy cadences. Throughout the night his band kept a precise but flexible groove, and incorporated a phenomenal conga player midway through. Hits like “King Without a Crown” and “Jerusalem” got wild cheers, but nothing compared to the response Matisyahu’s impressively huge stage dive received near the end. Matisyahu himself was equally pleased saying, “My grandpa would be proud.” So were all the young hippies.

Juana Molina, Curumin and Él-G @ Summerstage w/ pics

2009-07-09T02:31:00.008-04:00

July 8, 2009

The tenth annual Latin Alternative Music Conference presented a mix of new and old at Central Park’s Summerstage. Rising DJ—and founder of Buenos Aires’ ZZK Records—Él-G performed an interim set that straddled the styles and rhythms of the evenings other two acts, the Brazilian samba-funk and hip-hop artist Curumin and Argentinean Juana Molina. While Él-G even incorporated a remix of Animal Collective’s “My Girls,” much of his set was reserved and inconspicuous, as if waiting to unleash his subtropical mixes. Earlier in the evening Curumin eased into his set with a cover of Roy Ayers’ “Everybody Loves the Sunshine,” eventually turning up the tempo. Even though he was mostly static, singing behind his drum kit, his music was dynamic and rhythm perpetual. Both sampled and electronic melodies were woven into samba grooves and the mostly seated crowd grew restless. Near the end of his performance he played the best “Beat It” cover I’d heard in the last two weeks, transforming it into a sensual half-time lament. Juana Molina began with the opening—and title—track to 2008’s Un Dia. Gently singing the words “one day” and then looping them, she layered more vocals and then guitar passages on top before initiating the audience with more adlibbed vocals and musical yelps. Finally her bassist and drummer innocuously entered such that the song itself seemed to sublimate the casual utterances and nuances of everyday words and sounds. Over and over Molina created her signature ethereal blend of vocals, guitars and electronics—with added bass and rhythms. Near the end of the night she played a solo song, “¿Quién?.” She wrote it after a weeklong trip to NYC years ago ended with her young daughter fearing complete abandonment, and the chorus echoes her daughter’s longing. What made many of her songs so captivating, however, was the scope of vocal textures she was able to produce and layer: vocables, ombasure manipulation, and rhythmic variations. Paired with her music’s soft undulating cadences, her songs paralleled the night’s gentle breezes.

Curumin

Él-G

Juana Molina

Afro-Punk Festival: Saul Williams and Janelle Monae @ BAM w/ pics

2009-07-07T19:07:00.014-04:00

July 6, 2009

Perhaps no individual musician better captures the spirit and attitude of James Spooner’s Afro-Punk Festival than Saul Williams. Though the evolving sounds of Brooklyn rockers TV on the Radio are routinely cited as the Afro-Punk movement’s musical vanguard, Williams’ idiosyncratic mixture of hip-hop, electronica, grime, spoken word and poetry, all delivered with a potent punk ethos, proved an exemplary cross-section of Afro-Punk on Monday night. Earlier in the evening Janelle Monae delivered a lively—though verbatim—set of her space-age meets rockabilly music, complete with an interpretive painting. A free skate park, bmx demos and graffiti murals were seamlessly incorporated into the musical portion of the festival, demonstrating the scope and vitality of the Afro-Punk scene.

Song 'o Summer = No Reasons

2009-07-07T11:08:00.004-04:00

I was going to go balls out and put together the official list of designated "summer jams" but then I realized there's only one track (besides the aforementioned "Blame It On The Boogie") that (1) I can't stop silently dancing to in public places and (2) that actually gives me a warm summer chill each time I cue it up. And that song is "No Reasons" by rising Austin band VEGA. You may have heard of the group after a confrontation with electro divas Crystal Castles resulted in a canceled show (booooo) and got all gossipy. Beef aside, I am psyched on all the band's songs (however scarce) but "No Reasons" is my favorite, and the purest I think.

on repeat = Blame It On The Boogie

2009-07-07T09:51:00.003-04:00

For me the manic sonic eulogizing of MJ probably peaked last weekend, but, naturally, some beats and melodies are simply inescapable. The thing is, it's not obnoxious. I am perfectly happy to have "Blame It On The Boogie" reverberating in my head non-stop. In fact it's definitely my new favorite MJ tune (well the Jacksons, technically.) Also the psychedelic effects in the video are too awesome--it's as if a stoner stumbled into a disco and fell into the Jacksons' funky but hazy arms.

Esperanza Spalding, Jonathan Batiste @ Summerstage w/ pics

2009-06-29T22:22:00.013-04:00

June 28, 2009

Two emerging young jazz players showcased their talents Sunday, in a hot and sunny afternoon performance at Central Park’s ongoing free Summerstage series. Opening the afternoon was 22-year-old Jonathan Batiste. From New Orleans, and enriched in its cultural soul, Batiste had a primary music education through his family’s Batiste Brothers Band, before coming of age with his 2005 debut, Times in New Orleans. Leading his own, youthful, ensemble Batiste was precocious and raw. Beginning his set on melodica, he strolled out to center stage with a trio of saxophones playing Monk’s “Round Midnight.” The melodica somehow lent the piece an increasingly romantic and nostalgic tone. But romance wasn’t on Mr. Batiste’s agenda. He ripped through some rowdier numbers including “New Orleans Blues Boy,” a song with a quick strong beat and contrapuntal lines that chased each other around like a cat and mouse, and then slowed things down for a Star Wars-themed dirge of sorts. The highlight of his set could have been a cover of, “Billie Jean”—complete with short black trousers, Jackson tour tee, and glittery scarf—but by this point the failed tunings of his youthful support where too overwhelming and distracting. A cover of “What a Wonderful World” eased the pain quite well, however, as Mr. Batiste proved himself a capable performer when cool and confidant.

At the formative age of 24, bassist and vocalist Esperanza Spalding seems destined for great things as her playing and career gain speed. In May she played Michele Obama’s “Poetry, Music and Spoken Word” event held at the White House, performing Lauryn Hill’s “Tell Him.” Ms. Hill’s commanding voice and multifarious sound are an apt comparison for Spalding’s immense talents. Sunday she quickly immersed the crowd in her eclectic mix of tropics and jazz over stirring vocals. Introducing herself and her agenda, she cooed about soul, jazz’s compelling need for it, and how what she was going to do that afternoon to help. Throughout her set she switched styles and instruments, between an augmented upright acoustic bass and electric one, such that her dynamic playing matched only the energy in her whimsically virtuosic voice. It was capable of restrained relaxed laments, or pyrotechnic scats that jumped out from inside her. Depending on the mood her voice either dripped delicately or flowed in powerful torrents. Her deft quartet matched her every step, providing a cerebral but flexible accompaniment on drums, piano and electric guitar. Spalding’s set consisted mostly of faster paced repertory like, “She Got to You.” This particularly suited her drummer, whose lightness elevated the group’s sound to match Spalding’s powerful vocals. After finishing her set the crowd was emphatic about getting her back onstage and Spalding naturally obliged, though it was clearly a genuinely earnest gesture. For her encore she got the crowd to sing the chorus on “I Adore You,” carrying it all the way to her graceful exit.

In Memoria: Michael Jackson 1958-2009

2009-06-27T14:28:00.006-04:00

The early nineties were a difficult time to develop as a Michael Jackson fan. Bubbles, copious plastic surgery and Neverland Ranch magnified his spectacle while diverting from his talents. Grunge and flannel were becoming the popular standard—that is if Kriss Kross weren’t at the top of one’s list—and amongst my peers Super Bowl XXVII the game became more important than Michael the half-time show.

I was undeterred, however. I’d heard so much of this man, glimpsed the outrageous headlines in the checkout aisle, and jumped around joyously to his music even. It’s predictable that I remember nothing of the actual match—it turns out most of the country didn’t either. What I distinctly remember was the incredible sense of awe I felt when Michael took the stage. I was totally captivated. He struck such a defiant opening pose I was intimidated by the man. But I was quickly enthralled by his assertive leg kicks and supernatural twists and turns; his aggressive bandolier styling; the white collared shirt transformed into an immortal cape; the thrusting pelvis, convincing me of man’s rhythmic center. I was being confronted by this unshakable beat and ethereal image of masculinity and sensitivity that was cool. Dancing became cool. Before then dancing was for my sisters but now his music was making me want to dance.

Of course I had heard “Billie Jean” and “Black or White,” and loved their alluring bass line and dynamic guitar, but I hadn’t seen them, experienced them. The moonwalk, debuted a decade ago, was still something of a myth in my young head. But finally I witnessed it. His transcendent and transformative dance steps totally redefined my view of the art. And the crotch grab? It was there too. I ate up the iconic moves, his larger-than-life persona and the preternatural ease with which it was all delivered and felt an immediate need to share my catharsis. How could anyone I knew not fall in love with it? Even my immigrant parents—who were once wooed by Elvis’ baritone and pelvis—showed intrigue.

Managing to capture half of the 13-minute performance on my VCR, I was convinced my class would be equally amazed. So the next day, unsolicited, I brought the videotape to school to share the abridged experience. But strangely only a small fraction of my peers chose to stay inside during the snowy lunch recess to watch my recording. Why wasn’t everyone totally mesmerized by his performance? Didn’t everyone want to relive it over and over? I most definitely did.

Days after Michael’s passing, I feel similar. While I nurture my unbridled enthusiasm for Off The Wall, Destiny and anything imprinted with his talent, others gape at the manic devotion to a manufactured idol and simply don’t get it. Because my older, and wiser, sisters sat with me in choreographic awe during that half-time show did I really get how incredible Michael was. It’s the reason why my fondest Super Bowl experience has nothing to do with sports. Walking around New York City last Thursday, hearing his songs reverberate from every street-corner and bar, I relished the tacit community his music created amongst us. It’s only after his quintessentially American tragedy that we’ll begin to understand the invaluable cultural contributions he made to our society—while his descent takes on mythic proportions.

Miike Snow, the Maccabees @ Mercury Lounge w/ pics

2009-06-23T01:31:00.008-04:00

June 22, 2009

Miike Snow is not an individual but a pseudo-supergroup of behind-the-scenes producers and songwriters, Bloodshy & Avant and Downtown Records in-house guru Andrew Wyatt. Though each is best known for pulling the strings on Madonna or Britney records, under Wyatt’s effects-laden vocals they coalesce into affable melodies and synthesizer shaped beats. At the Mercury Lounge’s intimate brick confines the group (backed by three additional musicians playing various samplers and synthesizers) still managed to eschew the spotlight, practically playing in the dark much of the time. Unfortunately the dance party intentions of their record weren’t promulgated clearly enough, so much of the brief 45 minute set was devoid of any stimulus that could match their catchy jams—or the Maccabees’ opening set. They opened with “Burial” and cruised through other hummable tracks, like their single “Animal,” “Silvia,” and “Plastic Jungle.” Canceling an earlier performance at Studio B, the group seemed to still be working out their stage dynamics and roles as performers. Not performing an encore made sense. The energy never quite evolved and the group still needs to perfect the art of working a live crowd. Hopefully Miike Snow’s hooky debut record won’t be their last.

the Maccabees

Miike Snow...

Bachelorette @ Union Hall w/ pics

2009-06-17T00:40:00.006-04:00

June 16, 2009

Not long ago I read an article by New York producer and DJ extraordinaire DJ/Rupture expounding on the nature of auto-tune. Essentially, he considered the phenomenon an exemplary synthesis between man and machine. While listening to the rising producer/songwriter Annabel Alpers at Brooklyn’s Union Hall Tuesday night--performing under her Bachelorette moniker--I was thinking the same thing. As an electronica nerd who’s best friend it seems is her laptop, Bachelorette calmly elicited longing, sorrow and deep introspection in between melodies of shimmery synths and the occasional disco beat. Instead of an unrelenting dance cadence, her songs pulsated with feeling and sentiment. Her awkwardness and self-deprecating quips about her New Zealand origins only further emphasized her strangely sensitive electronic sound. The small crowd and space gave the performance a living-room vibe. While songs like “Doo Wop” and recent single “Mindwarp” were expressive and danceable, Bachelorette’s chipper unease left a cloud of tension in the room—despite her LED bedazzled dress. Listening to Alpers’ latest, My Electric Family, at home just might suffice next time.

Josh Ritter with New York Pops @ Central Park Summerstage w/ pics

2009-06-13T01:44:00.015-04:00

June 12, 2009

The Parks Foundation knew they wanted Josh Ritter for the Summerstage season, but booking him opening night created an incentive for panache, so organizers told us. Thus the New York Pops were called upon to accompany the plainly eloquent singer-songwriter for his park debut. Ritter—backed by Zack Hickman, bass, Sam Kassirer, piano, Austin Nevins, lead, and Liam Hurley, drums—pulled out some older tunes over the course of his one-and-a-half-hour set (“Other Side”, “Bone of Song”, “Kathleen”), though most were saved for the end. Mostly the set stuck to his Animal Years and Historical Conquests repertoire. The latter record was also full of orchestrations and arrangements, setting up hopeful recreations. Unfortunately from the opening notes of the Pops’ overture it was abundantly clear that they would be the one blight of the evening. Even by community orchestra standards they were plagued by intonation issues—and technical ones beyond their control. They were able to scrap together competent accompaniments for a few numbers, though (“Kathleen”, “Empty Hearts”).

Salvation came in Ritter himself. He was unabashedly excited about his Summerstage gig, repeatedly doling out thank yous. In other words, he was his usual sympathetic, earnest and boyish self, practically speechless from the enthusiastic crowd and setting. His voice sounded strong throughout, particularly on “Girl in the War” and “Temptation of Adam,” as it either ached for a wronged lover or spun tall tales. His gorgeous melodies resonated with both equanimity and passion, and occasionally picked up the tempo as well (“To the Dogs or Whoever”). Two special guests also appeared, usurping the Pops in substance and style. Violinist Hilary Hahn joined Ritter for a duet of “Thin Blue Flame,” imbuing Ritter’s sound with warmth and feeling. And for his encore Ritter invited Glen Hansard to sing a duet on “Come and Find Me.” Hansard ended up running back onstage for the finale, “Empty Hearts.” It was a satisfying end to a dreary week of rain and an ideal start to the Summerstage season.

Sunday Best: Mr. Scruff @ Bklyn Yard w/ pics

2009-06-08T18:39:00.006-04:00

May 31, 2009

Sunday afternoons are inherently lazy, especially those bathed in grills, sangria and sunshine. Thus the Sunday afternoon summer dance series—Sunday Best--on the banks of the Gowanus canal at Bklyn Yard was a lively way to mobilize and relax all at once. Quesadillas and fresh watermelon nourished the crowd between Sapporo’s and a cool breeze maximized the informal vibe. Dogs and babies alike danced to resident DJ’s Justin Carter, Doug Singer and Eamon Harkin who warmed up the crowd before Andy Carthy, a.k.a. Mr. Scruff, took the helm later in the afternoon. The dance floor swelled as Mr. Scruff mixed mostly eclectic funk and other retro-tinged tunes, like “Summertime.” But despite the healthy turnout of kids and proximity to the canal Mr. Scruff abstained from playing any of his fish-themed repertoire. All in all, it was an ideal afternoon on a canal in Brooklyn.

Ahmad Jamal @ Blue Note w/ pics

2009-05-26T00:16:00.005-04:00

May 23, 2009

Ahmad Jamal presented a tight, affable early set Saturday night at the Blue Note, playing through repertoire spanning both genres and decades. After sitting down to the piano and launching into “Wild Is The Wind / Sing”--from 2008’s impressive It’s Magic--Jamal quickly stood back up and, going from stage right to left, introduced his supporting cast: percussionist Manolo Badrena, drummer Jake Johnson, and his trusty bassist James Cammack. He then impishly added, “…and me!” As if there was any doubt.

As a stalwart bop pianist in earlier times Jamal’s playing flaunted timing and urbane impulse, all without resorting to innocuousness. His rhythm always attacked and then defused in interesting ways. Thus his work with Badrena has been a welcome marriage, blending dynamic rhythms and feel with eclectic textures. A new composition, “Love Is Lost”, showcased some of Badrena’s bells and “It’s Magic”, a slow ballad, was made even more tender with gingerly conga flourishes.

Cammack also showed-off his tenure with Jamal, effortlessly playing with and under Jamal’s strong lines. A new tune, “Flight to Russia”, was grounded by a swinging bass line that carried the piece. At another point Cammack played a brilliant solo of modulating octaves, all while fighting over a waiter’s steak order in the background.

Jamal was still, however, very much the focus of the set. Vocally, he would chide his aging hands when they failed him during a virtuosic run or compliment Cammack or Badrena after invigorating turn-arounds. It gave the intimate club an even more intimate feel, like we were picking his brain in real-time. Musically, Jamal was engaging as ever. Though he sometimes stumbled on his most difficult passages classics, like “Poinciana”, were ethereal in their resolving harmonies and syncopated cadences.

Closing with “Baalbeck”--written after a 2004 performance in the town of the same name in Lebanon—proved a disappointing choice. Its militant, and prominent, snare-drum rhythm smothered Jamal’s playing suffocating the piece. It was simply unrepresentative of the night’s warm performance as a whole.

Dan Deacon & Ensemble, Future Islands @ Bowery Ballroom (late show) w/ pics

2009-05-17T19:49:00.007-04:00

May 16, 2009

Dan Deacon's seminal solo tours became the stuff of indie legend: one Humpty Dumpty man clad in Sally Jessy Raphael frames; a DIY table covered in lo-fi electronic equipment and electrical tape set up in the middle of the dance floor; and raucous dance parties with Deacon's idiosyncrasies as the epicenter. Much has changed since his breakthrough electronic album Spiderman of the Ring's and its accompanying tours, however. Deacon, musically and financially liberated, composed an epic album, Bromst, of sweeping instrumentals and densely rewarding layers with the help of a 14-piece ensemble--his very own Baltimore Gamelan if you will. Naturally, the size of his new arrangements invite new constraints into his live show and so Deacon was resigned to performing onstage Saturday night at the Bowery Ballroom.

Going to the late show of a double header was also dubious. Given the energy of his shows, it was unsurprising that his entire ensemble couldn't keep up and some were performing on fumes, despite Devo-inspired jumpsuits. Deacon himself--repeatedly comparing the later show to previously successful gigs in Brooklyn and the night's first show--was easily frustrated by the late crowd's inability to follow his instructions for crowd participation and interactivity, lashing out, "Did I eat show poison before this?" Though the crowd gave their best efforts, Deacon was irked by the crowd's ineptness (inebriation?) and his frequent substitute teacher-like berating cast an awkward shadow on the show at times.

Regardless, Deacon seems incapable of committing any wrong towards his fans. They danced, soliloquized, and jumped on command all night long, revelling in the throbbing mass of sound coming from onstage. But the late set took its toll. Exhausted from dancing to the ironic Enya and Lisa Loeb house music before the show, the crowd seemed drained by 3am. From Deacon's questioning it sounded like many had been to all three of his shows over the weekend. The others must have been more coherent. Songs like "Of The Mountains" and "Woof Woof" lacked the dynamic punches and gradations that so greatly enhance their recorded counterparts. Next time, I'll have to make sure and catch him earlier in the night.

Future Islands...

Dan Deacon & Ensemble...

The Roots @ Highline Ballrom w/ pics

2009-05-16T16:48:00.004-04:00

May 13, 2009

As The Roots slowly adjust to their new day job accompanying Jimmy Fallon and New York-centric lifestyle, their bi-weekly residency at the Highline Ballroom, "The Jam", has become an unpredictable yet approachable setting to see the group in its element. At least elements of the group. Last Wednesday night found only Black Thought, ?uestlove--the mainstays of the group--and bass player Owen Biddle leading an open mic night of sorts.

The late night set consisted of dozens of young, fledgling musicians sharing the stage with their musical heroes (many gave personal shout outs to the group and/or ?uestlove.) It was unclear whether they were all alumni of the same performing arts academy as the Roots themselves (Philadelphia's High School for the Creative Performing Arts) or just an assortment of their favorite up and coming rappers, vocalists, guitarists, horn players and percussionists. Regardless, the sell out crowd was supportive and encouraging of the raw talent making its rounds on stage.

However the real story of the night was the stellar rhythm section holding the jam session together--that The Roots are one of music's best rhythm sections should surprise no one. Naturally de facto music director of the Roots, ?uestlove, was at the helm, micromanaging the shuffling list of musicians from behind his drum kit and also calling out changes and key signatures to the other players. His ambidexterity is awesome, but his real talent is his ability is seamlessly transitioning and transposing multiple musical epochs into one fluid jam. He does it every night and I suspect his work on Late Night is only improving this skill. Along with ?uestlove, the celebrated songwriter and keyboard player James Poyser played back up. Perfectly in sync with ?uestlove the presence of Biddle, on six-string bass, rounded out the extremely adaptable and agile rhythm section.

Given that the Lonely Island had performed on Late Night the previous evening, I was holding out hope that their collaboration with the Roots will spill over into the Highline gig. The band's ephemeral sets are just another reason to keep coming back for more.

Junior Boys @ Webster Hall (Disaster Ensues) w/pics

2009-05-08T11:46:00.004-04:00

May 7, 2009

The show must go on. So the old adage goes at least, but that was before electronic music and before bands became completely dependent on alternating current and all the gizmos, computers and samplers that it brings to life. An electronic-based band should hardly have amnesty from such showbiz dogma. And yet the Junior Boys pulled out all the scapegoats Thursday night when Matt Didemus’ sampler cut out. Singer Jeremy Greenspan had the unfortunate task of conveying all the bad news to the crowd, though. They chastised the sampler’s manufacturer, AKAI, stressed the frustration of having such problems in New York City rather than Kentucky, and shot out that, “I bet this never happens to Fleet Foxes.”

I would also bet it never happens to any band that:
(1) is prepared, technically, to handle such unlikely events;
(2) has the conviction and creativity/ingenuity to continue without the faulty gear, even with wildly different variations;
or (3) has technical issues but keeps it to themselves and still plays--since 90 % of the gear is functioning--and most fans can’t tell the difference anyway! I heard about a dozen people repeat that last one at Webster Hall.

The worst part was their stalling tactics. They’d say, “OK, we’ve got one more option”, and then spend 15 minutes futzing around with a sampler before launching into a song. Elated that they were actually playing the audience would get all excited, only to hear them stop suddenly and whine about their gear malfunctioning. This scenario repeated itself for over an hour, during which they managed to squeeze out "Work" and "Double Shadow", though the effort and ostensible technical problems made them all look constipated. Finally the crowd's patience wore thin (though I was still struck by how many people were willing to wait indefinitely), booed them (in the face of repeated apologies), and was relieved to finally get a straight answer: the show won’t go on. Lame.

So far so good...

Uh oh, announcement time

"Fingers crossed!"

(We're fucked)

Techie

From the three songs they actually did play...

Ben Harper and the Relentless7 @ Webster Hall w/ pics

2009-05-06T02:42:00.016-04:00

May 5, 2009

It's been over a year and a half since Ben Harper's last release (2007's Lifeline, recorded in Paris with the Innocent Criminals), but three years since anything of his has really reverberated on American shores (his bifurcated 2006 effort, Both Sides of The Gun). He's huge in Europe. But despite the prevalence of francophones and the excitement of releasing yet another work (White Lies For Dark Times, this time recorded with a new trio, calling themselves the Relentless7) Harper and the Relentless7 eased into the new repertoire. Opening with Zeppelin's "Good Times Bad Times" deliberately instilled the raw, punishing but harmonic hard rock tone that embodies the new album. "Better Way", became a passionately hard effort on its own (sans tablas), and proved an apt segue from old to new songs.

Just because the songs were relatively new hardly meant they'd be trimmed for presentation purposes. Rather the night seemed like a liberation of the White Lies material into the live realm. Tonight they became mature, living, breathing songs that reacted and responded to other stimuli. "Keeping It Together" became an extended jam, with Harper relishing Jason Mozersky's transcendent solo and channeling its scope during his own turn on the slide guitar. The lyrics became even darker (pre-Obama composing I assume?) on "The World Suicide." Harper sang, "The world suicide is irresponsible", the refrain "Love is an old heirloom" echoing like a piece of nostalgia from more compassionate times. The intro of "Lay There and Hate Me" was soft but souful, sensuous three-part "oohs" over a funky shuffle as laid down by drummer Jordarn Richardson--not unlike "Superstition." It then became an impassioned diatribe against a resentful lover, full of Harper's lyrical symmetry, "Ain't no fool like the fool you love."

But the cynical tone of the lyrics didn't overwhelm. Harper was so taken by the crowd's support that he asked for a mulligan on "Fly One Time". An instrument cable input caused a jarring interruption at its most delicate moment so Harper, wanting to give the song's intimacy justice, indulged himself by righting the wrong. Amazingly, the crowd was as excited by the slow tune the second time around. The slow encore number, "Another Lonely Day," was equally well received, the entire crowd singing along in unison. Injecting new life into his covers catalogue Harper et al busted into Queen's "Under Pressure" after teasing he'd never honor another "Sexual Healing" request. The concert should have ended then but they carried on for a few more, wanting to initiate yet more new tunes into the live arena.

Setlist:

Good Times Bad Times
Better Way
Number With No Name
Shimmer and Shine
Lay There and Hate Me
Why Must You Always Dress in Black
Skin Thin
Fly One Time (2x)
Keep It Together (So I Can Fall Apart)
The World Suicide
Boots Like These
---------
Another Lonely Day
Faithfully Remain
Under Pressure
Up To You Now

Good Times Bad Times

King Khan and the Shrines @ Music Hall of Williamsburg w/ pics

2009-05-03T19:49:00.008-04:00

May 1, 2009

King Khan was the sovereign and the audience his court, just as one would suspect. Notorious for his stage antics and backing himself with the controlled chaos of a garage-inspired eight-piece funk outfit (his Shrines), dancing cheerleader, roller-skating geriatric hype-man, and any other member of the audience with the conviction to share the spotlight in various stages of undress, King Khan unleashed a riotous set at the Music Hall of Williamsburg Friday night. Unlike my last King Khan and the Shrines experience, the result was relatively tame by comparison--and not for Mr. Khan's lack of wanting.

After assembling on stage the Shrines set the mood for the imminent, and dramatic, entrance of King Khan himself. Regally walking down the stage left stairs, gold cape flowing and cobra staff in hand, Khan acknowledged his outsize persona and launched the group into "Land of the Freak." Within the first 15 minutes (which included numbers "I Wanna Be A Girl", "Pickin Up The Trash", "Le Fils Du Jacques Dutronc", pants-less dancing horn players, and Khan body-surfing for several verses) I'd heard two people remark, "It's too much! Too much!" and, "This is the best thing ever!" And there wasn't even a game of trash dodgeball between Khan and the audience this time around.

Instead Khan got sentimental on "Shivers Down My Spine", wheezing like a wounded lover to supportive hollers, and then inspirational and televangelical on a long crowd-pleasing song about climbing into a woman. The fulcrum of the set was "Burnin Inside", a fast tambourine-paced track, with Khan singing his best James Brown cries. It was funky chaos both on stage and off.

But as Khan and his Shrines kept their foot on the gas, the crowd couldn't keep up. "(How Can I Keep You) Outta Harms Way" and other songs and their accompanying phantasmagorical gags had exhausted the crowd visually and physically. By the encore, "Live Fast Die Strong", Khan's tight band and surrounding miscreants were themselves disintegrating, and what was left of the once ebullient crowd was lifeless. Either King Khan and his Shrines outpartied them all, or they were simply heeding his advice, "Life is way too short to be wasted in a bar."

Simian Mobile Disco @ Highline Ballroom w/ pics

2009-04-24T20:35:00.006-04:00

April 23, 2009

Thursday night found Messieurs James Ford and Jas Shaw bringing their British brand of minimalist electronica to the Highline. Though their ascent, and hype, in the electronica scene has paralleled that of French duo Justice (they also like to remix each other and release albums on the same day while sounding completely different), they are decidedly geeky and focused in concert, eschewing the rock-star pranks the Parisians flaunt so effortlessly.

Instead Ford’s mass of curls sometimes bobbed along to the beat but more often scrambled over and around a giant console of knobs, wires and switches that dominated the center of the stage. Watching the duo scurry around their unit, like mad-scientists tweaking their gizmo as it pulsates with life, elicited images of Raymond Scott composing on his storage-unit sized synthesizers.

Though the Highline is innately clubby (note the mood lighting and lounge-inspired elevated seating areas) much of the crowd was listless and observant. It may have been the bland opening DJ sets by JDH and Dave P, but any excitement for SMD didn’t seem to carry over. Such a noncommittal vibe was partially excusable, though, as SMD’s set was expected, with an emphasis on the Attack Sustain Decay Release catalogue. Such predictability sucks the fun out of concerts, but so does an uninspired crowd. It was unfortunate the show lacked the type of track that is capable of lifting a performance to new heights, instilling a sonic souvenir that endures and is forever associated with the band, but the dull crowd was equally a bummer.

This anticlimax was sort of surprising as Shaw praised the live performances of Jamie Lidell in a recent musicOMH interview, citing them as a model for artists. I’ve had the privilege of seeing Lidell—at the Highline as well, coincidentally—and there is a huge distance separating the two groups in terms of performance. Lidell commands the stage, his band and audience with flair, while SMD, more or less, is all fish-bowl effect, like watching surgeons in an operating amphitheatre. Unless everybody brings their dancing shoes, it can be a disappointment.

Blinded by the Pillz

2009-04-22T10:15:00.004-04:00

Em, you be da man! Well, if I was a delusional and desperate right-wing crony that's how I would put it at least. But seriously, the cover art is solid. It's earnest, blunt but obvious, and flows well--much the same things I love about his records. Some are crying controversial though. Really? I'm surprised Eminem can even still elicit controversy. Hasn't he exhausted it by this point? Wouldn't it take something truly outrageous, like beating a Rihanna look-alike or pirating a music industry ship on the cover, to register on anybody's radar? Regardless, the Million Little Pieces rip off is solid and (dare I say?) classy. The real question remains: is the album any good?

Recent Acquisition = Company of Thieves, Ordinary Riches

2009-04-10T21:00:00.004-04:00

A debut album is a terrible thing to waste. Musical first impressions couldn’t be more important for today’s fickle consumers—just look at the aftereffects of SXSW. So when a musical introduction is anything less than stellar, why wait around for seconds when there’s an all you can eat buffet always beckoning?

The same goes for a first impression that’s live, in person, before your eyes and ears, right? Wrong. Or at least I was.

The thing is I stumbled across the rising Chicago band Company of Thieves at last fall’s CMJ Marathon at the Bowery Ballroom and I was impressed. Juxtaposed with the underwhelming and average sounds of so many other groups Company of Thieves had a well-balanced and mature sound. Their songs seemed refreshingly melodic in that traditional rock ‘n’ roll way—and they weren’t another Brooklyn delegation by hailing from Chicago. I remember being impressed by guitarist Marc Walloch’s playing and densely rich tone and mesmerized by singer and ringleader Genevieve Schatz’s flower-child ethos and effortless singing. Surrounded by competent players they formed a tight sound and became a relatively positive footnote in the long hazy festival.

Company of Thieves @ Bowery Ballroom...

So imagine my surprise when I listened to their debut from Wind-up records, Ordinary Riches. Familiarities of the band I saw last fall protrude in places (Walloch’s vibrant guitars and Mike Ortiz’s precise drumming) but it seems to have been almost entirely displaced by a desultory band and sound. Most notable (and detrimental) are Schatz’s precarious and trite vocals; what I thought was a centerpiece that complimented the group became its albatross.

Lets begin, at least, with the best tracks. The laid-back tone of “Even in the Dark” gives Schatz’s voice a fighting chance, enabling the song’s soothing melody to linger. The song’s defiant message (“gotta find your calling/ Even in the dark”) was all the more moving this way.

“Oscar Wilde”—the designated single with a late night performance to boot (Last Call with Carson Daly)—gets off to a running start with catchy contrapuntal guitar riffs and an up-beat rhythm. Cunning is the onomatopoeic quality of the line “We are all our own devil” during each chorus, making it the strongest line of the song.

“Pressure” stands out as the only track where Schatz takes any sort of control over a song—though, again, it really only happens during the chorus. This is the album’s recurring problem.

On “Old Letters” a brooding, promising, Fiona Apple-type intro welcomes us, but, almost instantly, Schatz’s vocals are airy and weak, pushing out more air than sound (not unlike a John Mayer ballad). Then the album’s second recurring problem makes its way: there are too many meandering melodies. Productive bands always face this dilemma but the best ones effectively pare down their music to its most fundamental, and alluring, components. This is something Company of Thieves could learn.

“In Passing” demonstrates the above two problems well. Schatz’s thin voice nearly vanishes on the “O” sound when she sings “’round”. Later an ill-timed Latin bridge sounds forced, but its reprise is better placed and more fully realized.

After a blatant Steve Miller “Swingtown” rhythm part on “Under the Umbrella”, and a five second pause after hard-strumming chords, Walloch seizes the spotlight with an extended outro lick that evolves into a chorus of “na-na-nas”. But again, the outro is sonically unrelated to anything else going on in the preceding song, or album, and just seems like a means of giving Walloch free-reign over lots of improvisational space.

Overall, the lack of great melodies or compelling vocals leads to tedium. Good harmonies and arrangements can’t carry an album on its own, even if the frame outshines the painting.

It’s a shame that only glimpses of Schatz’s total vocal potential, which is consequently tied to the band’s, are present. More often than not her voice is breathy in that way that so many female vocalists think is seductive or emotive. Instead her voice is flat and tenuous, only rising to the front of the songs when mandated by the volume of a particular chorus.

If Company of Thieves could convince Schatz to sing with a leading voice and focused its melodies it might become the band I thought I heard six months ago.

STATS
artist: Company of Thieves
album: Ordinary Riches
label: Wind-up Records
US release date: February 24, 2009
IMHO? 32/100

on repeat = Sabali

2009-04-04T17:41:00.004-04:00

Simply put, this song is perfect. For me it’s all about balance and “Sabali” is all over that shit. Not too long, not too short; not too sentimental, not too blasé; not too heavy, not too light; not too fast, not too slow; not too old, not too new etc. etc. But it’s the way it all comes together that makes the track. You begin with this a Capella intro with some subtle string, after which you get this gorgeous intro and melody established (with just the right amount of beeping Nintendo accents). Finally, after you’ve practically resigned to the fact that this is one of those songs, one that doesn’t need a beat to make its point, the perfect beat comes in at the perfect moment taking the song to the next level. The second half just revels in the delight of all these perfectly complimentary elements coming together, then literally says “bye-bye” before your senses are fully satiated--which would be a frustrating tease if you couldn't ceaselessly play it on repeat.

The Presets, The Golden Filter @ Webster Hall w/ pics

2009-04-04T17:16:00.006-04:00

April 3, 2009

The Presets and The Golden Filter represented opposite ends of the disco spectrum in terms of volume, tone and intensity Friday night. Disappointingly, I only caught the very tail of Golden Filter’s set, but, from what sparse recordings I have been able to get my hands on, their disco is a nod towards the era of roller-queens and hazy, hedonistic, introspection. Which isn’t to say it was too light. Their beats were sugary but prodding, propelling their songs to desirable places.

By contrast The Presets devoted themselves to a dark, grimy and almost painfully loud electronica. Its completely minor soaked chromatic melodies were macabre and aggressive (that would be the “Apocalypse” part of their recent release Apocalypso), but the crowd seemed to thrive on the redundancy of their structure. Thankfully Kim Moyes’ periodic live drumming added a captivating live dynamic whilst Julian Hamilton, in his levitating white blazer, proved a competent and consistent singer. In fact he was practically a young Rod Stewart on stage, running between his keyboards and center stage to strike theatrical profiles. Their best tracks were their first and last, proving they’re apt at closing and ending shows—it was the meaty part of the set that was lost on them. “Kicking and Screaming” was a dramatic beginning as was the segue into “My People”. Ending with “This Boy’s In Love”, their best song, they then came full circle with a massive “My People” reprise.

the Presets...

Peter Bjorn and John @ "Wonderlust" Live W Hotel w/ pics

2009-03-18T01:55:00.003-04:00

March 17, 2009

After an awkwardly scripted, but hilariously oblivious, introduction by the night’s host Bryan Michael Cox, Peter Bjorn and John took the stage at their “Wonderlust” W Hotel gig. They’re physical and musical presence was highly anticipated, not having performed in the US for a year and their fifth album, Living Thing, arriving March 31.

Playing mostly new songs from Living Thing, their sound adhered to the stripped-down minimalist indie pop of past albums—namely the excellent Writer’s Block. But now, in their sparse arrangements synthetic sounds dominated. Peter Moren hammered away at a keyboard while John Eriksson eschewed a drum throne and kit, instead standing in front of a shelf of sampling pads, drums and cymbals while kicking a bass drum to his right.

Compared to their listless photo op upon entering the venue, the trio was animated and energetic, excited to be performing new music. In a bit of role reversal Björn Yttling played keyboard while Moren slashed away on bass for “I Want You!”

PB and J joined the Catchy-Kids-Chorus-Club with “Nothing To Worry About.” Gorgeous minor-soaked melodies scratched against Eastern flute samples and a heavy beat before Moren’s voice took over. It was the first point in the set at which everyone in the crowd was dancing and seemed to have a clue as to what the Swedes were up to.

On “It Don’t Move Me”, Yttling echoed the same piano sounds he created as producer on Lykke Li’s “I’m Good, I’m Gone.” Also the intro on title track “Living Thing” had hints of Moren’s Swedish rockabilly roots.

A few of the band’s songs were a departure from the irrepressibly catchy, but intriguing, melodies PB and J have accustomed themselves to. At some points they seemed to be veering towards the current post punk trend, one that dishevels their tight sound. Ending with “Object Of My Affection”, however, they played with precisely the type of above punk ethos their music—and facial hair—emanates.

Forty minutes later they finished with a single encore, “Young Folks.” I thought it was a bit 2007, and would have definitely preferred the “Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard” Moren flaunted at a Mercury Lounge show a year ago.

Four Tet @ American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) w/ pics

2009-03-15T17:40:00.009-04:00

March 13, 2009

The Fader’s monthly music series at the American Museum of Natural History, “One Step Beyond”, has declared itself as the place to “see and be seen under the stars” while watching “dynamic visuals” and listening to live music and DJs. At least they got the “under the stars” part right; The museum’s Rose Center for Earth and Space is unparalleled in its modern resplendence.

Aside from the aeronautic-themed atrium nothing else seemed to quite percolate the space. Which isn’t to say Kieren Hebden’s performance (a.k.a. Four Tet) was weak. In fact it was penetrating and dense but light and euphoric, examples of his best traits. But Hebden’s role seemed naturally hindered by the event’s gaudy constraints: constellations of Cocktail tables encouraging static reactions to the energetic music; competing and conflicting videos projected on myriad surfaces; and a crowd whose dichotomy consisted of enthusiastic participants and listless apathetic but aspiring attendees. The latter debilitated the mood most, as there was an awkwardness of conflicting factions.

On the makeshift dance floor (between galactic displays) Hedben sounded patient and balanced. Though he mostly played tracks from his latest Ringer EP, i.e. “Ringer”, “Ribbons” and “Swimmer”, he also tossed in some older classics, like “Smile Around The Face.” Hebden also flaunted his Tenori-ON instrument, decorating the tops of songs with its gimmicky Lite-Brite appeal.

Standing in the dance floor’s nadir (directly under the anchored, and colossal, IMAX orb) the sound was awesome. Though muddled and amorphous in the hall’s surrounding lacunae, on the dance floor the bass throbbed in a visceral pulse while the treble was like its clear conscience. I hadn’t experienced a bass sound so completely consuming since Chicago’s Smart Bar. Paired with the museum’s sci-fi surroundings, it was a pleasant moment to totally lose oneself in.

Recent Acquisition = Abdullah Ibrahim, Senzo

2009-03-13T17:00:00.005-04:00

For the last 48 years Abdullah Ibrahim has been releasing albums at a rate faster than one a year. There is no question he is prolific. But it is the rich content and singular synthesis of American and African jazz influences that make Ibrahim the profoundly important player he remains today.

A talented black musician under apartheid, Ibrahim recorded one of the first jazz LP’s in South Africa, with an ensemble The Jazz Epistles. Soon after, he took advantage of an opportunity to play in the European tour of the South African musical King Kong, a production that helped launched the career of some of his country’s most revered musicians—Miriam Makeba, Hugh Masekela, and Ibrahim himself among others.

Remaining in Europe, and chance, provided a golden opportunity for Ibrahim (who at that time went by the name Dollar Brand, years before his conversion to Islam): Duke Ellington, touring Switzerland at the time, was talked into seeing Ibrahim’s set one night by his future wife, Sathima Bea Benjamin. The Duke was so impressed he recorded Ibrahim on some European labels before insisting he come back to New York with him to record for Reprise.

His tenure at Reprise lead to collaborations with some of jazz’s greatest names (Coltrane, Ellington, Coleman) and catapulted a career that would see him return briefly to South Africa before touring the world over and settling in both Europe and New York. Only after his country’s reunification could he live there again, playing at Mandela’s inauguration in 1994.

Nearly fifty years later, and approaching 75, I find Ibrahim playing as strong as ever, but sounding ever more contemplative and liberated. It could be the solo format or just the sageness of a man with his experience.
Overall, Senzo is more aligned in tone and feeling with his African Suite than other albums. Yet it lacks many of the trio’s defining grooves and beats that kinetically connected many pieces on Suite or African River.

Though there is no predominant meter throughout the album—and no percussion—Ibrahim pulls emotion out of the subtle, but abundant, polyrhythms.

“Banyana” is joyous and verdant, while the opening track, “Ocean & The River”, is beautifully pastoral and light. Some breathtaking portions and runs sound like a Chopin nocturne.

Nowhere is there a dedication to Thelonious (unlike Coltrane and Ellington), but he certainly alludes to Monk’s “I Mean You” in the many dissonant passages and runs of “Blues For A Hip King”—(specifically 4:13). In many ways Senzo mimics Monk’s Thelonious Alone in San Francisco: stylistically, structurally, and emotionally. Ibrahim inherited Monk’s percussive fingering technique and jarring accents. They confront and surprise; then melt away, finally leaving the listener provoked yet soothed. And like Monk in San Francisco, Ibrahim sounds recluse and melancholy with spurts of blithe reflection.

Though “Dust” is a strangely graceful, impressionistic interpretation of the sediment—conveying grit, lightness and whimsicality—portions of melody have a very Bernstein-ian quality. In other words, Ibrahim manages a beautifully delicate balance between dissonance and melody, color and texture.

While “Third Line Samba” is a titular allusion to the African Diaspora (the first and second lines leading, and following, a New Orleans brass band), Ibrahim repeats the main triad of “When The Saints Go Marching In” throughout “Mediation/Mummy.” As each track flows into the next—the record, I’m assuming, consists of a single take—the energy of “Mediation/Mummy” emanates into “Jabulani,” which sounds like a celebratory fanfare.

The melody near the beginning of “Dust (Reprise)” evokes Maynard Ferguson’s “Coconut Champagne”—its descending and syncopated riff—without sinking to its saccharine structure and melodies. But then as the left-hand transitions to a cyclical and gently syncopated pattern over which his right-hand played bursts of notes it settles into a typical South African Marabi sound with overtones of bop: a perfect example of Ibrahim’s culture, and genre, bending playing and compositions.

Near the end of the album, “In A Sentimental Mood” expansive chords are filled with bop flourishes, allowing for the piece’s melody to trickle into the wide spaces left by the chords. It’s concurrently enchantingly elongated but dynamic,

The CD’s cardboard packaging is minimalist and standard, but after each title Ibrahim has written some descriptor, elucidating the sentiment, mood, motive or inspiration behind each composition. Overall, it’s a pleasing glimpse into the thoughts of a living legend.

STATS
artist: Abdullah Ibrahim
album: Senzo
label: Sunnyside Records
US release date: March 3, 2009
IMHO? 91/100

My man, Kutiman

2009-03-10T15:28:00.002-04:00

I have no idea how late to the game I am with this, and don’t care, but the below video showed up in my inbox (thanks to my favorite email listhost) and predictably sparked a vigorous debate as to whether it constituted a feat of artistic genius—which it is—or not.

Naturally, the work is entirely composed of other people’s creations, content and performances; it manipulates their likenesses, sounds and expressions; it is purely a remix of video and sound. Many argued it was definitely not genius because the author, Kutiman, simply rearranged tangible creations, kind of like a community organizer does nothing I suppose. They claimed had Kutiman created this piece, live, directing each of the composition’s components in tandem, he would be merit such praise. Others argued that like an architect, the process, and its subsequent reliance on others to create a product, manifested genius.

That music/art is derivative is given, assumed, reality. Whether copyright holders are willing to come to grips with it or not, they’re not original. They’ve copied, mimicked, and emulated (consciously or subconsciously) at least someone, at some point, along the line. But how one interprets the various inputs of one’s life, and how this synthesis translates into a tangible expression, is entirely unique—as demonstrated below, albeit more explicitly.

Ultimately I think Kutiman is just a brilliant example of how content has shifted from commodity to utility in our generation. (It has for me anyways.) Think if you experienced the transition from candle light to electricity, or handwriting to printing. Similarly, a once laborious task has now become practically ubiquitous and easily accessible to anyone, not just those with a wax and wick or scribe. At least this is the impact the internet is having/had on me. In my mind Kutiman is a genius composer.

Link to all videos here.

on repeat = Alla Addu Jam

2009-03-04T17:41:00.005-05:00

The Met’s recent African textiles exhibit was NOT where I would expect to find my new favorite track (I didn’t even stop by my favorite gallery: musical instruments). But alas, its treasures are vast and a random video installation commenting on the multiple uses and interpretations of a piece of cloth by some Kenyan woman--performing choreographed demonstrations of its function--caught my ear.

Though she had looped the second (and best) part of the track, Baaba Maal’s “Alla Addu Jam” was piercingly melodic and rhythmic in all the right ways. Now my mother does teach an African language but I know nothing about/can’t say anything in Pulaar. Still Maal sounds resilient in the face of darkness, first singing solo and then joined by a rowdy vocal and drum chorus in the second half that kicks the song into gear.

I also love the stringed instrument’s stickiness and grittiness. I can practically smell the animal gut strings--which somehow remind me of kudu jerky, mmm…

Allah Addu Jam - Baaba Maal

Blitzen Trapper, Plants and Animals @ Bowery Ballroom w/ pics

2009-03-02T00:32:00.012-05:00

February 27, 2009

It was one of those nights when the headliner legitimately got outplayed and outperformed. Which isn’t to say that Blitzen Trapper put on a bad show. It was a solid performance with their sound and set well balanced, along with all the other trimmings that one comes to expect from a band coming off their most successful year and most lauded album to date, Furr (8.5/10 on Pitchfork; #13 album of 2008 on Rolling Stone; #4 single of 2008 on Rolling Stone, if you’re keeping tally.)

But the Montreal trio, Plants and Animals, was in it to win it. They played one of the most broadly satisfying sets I’ve heard from anyone in months. Its scope was large enough for each song to feel new and captivating, but consistent enough with their natural idiosyncrasies to know that it flowed from the same spring. So post punk numbers ended up sounding like jam-band musings and vice-versa.

Though no battle of the bands, they played with a feverish reckless abandon yet compelling earnestness and epic, carefully constructed, songs became filled with intuitive improvisations. Drummer Matthew Woodley was prolific and at once contemporary and old school with his traditional grip. On “Faerie Dance”, his hard beat evoked the laissez-faire groove of Sublime, as did the harmonic “la-la-la’s” in the fading chorus. Singer Warren Spicer was an amalgamation of Kurt Cobain’s dissonant melodies and blonde hair and Freddy Mercury’s flamboyant exuberance and epic vocals. The latter was particularly true because I was convinced that their song “Bye Bye Bye” was a Queen cover. It was not. But its contrapuntal chorus (“Bye bye bye”) and main lyrics (“What’s gonna happen to you”) over piano power chords was a total characterization.

With each member perspiring out of sheer intensity, they still had their heads on right and seemed genuinely unpretentious. At one point Spicer even asked, “You guys are feeling this, right?”

His question put the pressure of pleasing ephemeral tastes in perspective immediately, and the source of their uncertainty became obvious: everyone was talking, seemingly not paying attention. But after their finale, “Bye Bye Bye”, the crowds’ roaring delight assured them that they, in fact, were heard and well liked.

All this made Blitzen Trapper’s task, for me, nearly impossible. Their scattered sextet simply could not match the drive and flowing harmonies of Plants and Animals. Despite having twice as many band members on stage, their southern sound seemed empty and flat, with singer Eric Earley dominating the workload. He even took over completely for a two-song solipsism, playing “his grandma’s favorite song”, “Cocaine Blues”. Cute.

Furr's best songs, “Black River Killer” and the title-track, were also the best received. But they were also played more or less verbatim on the album. The set was reserved and controlled in exactly the ways that Plants and Animals’ wasn’t. Instead of an exhilarating live experience, it was a reprise of their album. That album was pretty great, but when an Allman Brother’s-esque band comes up short live, it’s always a let down.

Plants and Animals...

Warren Spicer

Matthew Woodley

Nicolas Basque

Blitzen Trapper...

Eric Earley

Michael VanPelt

Erik Menteer

Ida @ Joe's Pub w/ pics

2009-03-02T00:17:00.005-05:00

February 28, 2009

The minimalist folk music of Ida was so ethereal, concentrated and beautiful at times, it’s as if they had coaxed their sounds from the earth’s elements—air, for the bellows of various sound-boxes and the music’s lightness; fire, igniting and electrifying Dan Littleton’s guitar; earth, procuring their instruments’ bodies; and water, the common solvent, generating a lyrical flow. No other sources would be sufficiently raw or beautiful.

The intimate setting of Joe’s Pub was ideal to listen to Ida’s delicate harmonies and sentimental melodies. Though a time-constrained set, the group—consisting of Littleton, singers Elizabeth Mitchell and Karla Schickele, violinist Jean Cook, and percussionist Ruth Keating—relished the venue’s sensitive acoustics and the crowd’s attentiveness.

Their first song didn’t start so much as emerge. Littleton and Mitchell played complimentary rolling patterns on mini hand-held xylophones, and as they ebbed and flowed together they slowly added harmonies, singing, “I have not been here before.”

The somber lucidity of Mitchell’s vocals were arresting and soothing at the same time. And when paired with Littleton’s parallel intonations, or the entire band’s gentle backing vocals, their sound was sonorous and lush.

Ida sounded equally fragile and sparse too. The majority of their instrumentations and accompaniments began with faint strumming and would eventually swell into all-encompassing droning tones, with the help of Cook’s even-handed violin bowing or Mitchell’s harmonium. Their attention to sonic textures made for really interesting combinations of tones and layered together made Mitchell’s plain but increasingly gorgeous voice float above it all.

Their tactile focus made their song structure become increasingly repetitive, however, and one had to scrutinize the lyrics or melody to find distinctions between numbers.

Littleton added density with electric-guitar cadences on “Late Blues”, creating monstrous distortion and feedback during the chorus and bridge. It was a jarring contrast to the verse’s introspective shell.

The best song of the night used to be a about America, we were told, but instead had simply become another Dolly Parton cover, “The Pain of Loving You.” The treat was that they ditched their mics and exploited the small room’s acoustics singing a cappella.

Ida’s last song was the closest they’ll “ever come to ‘We Will Rock You’”. They got everyone tapping the song’s simple beat in unison on tables/people, revealing their elemental nature.

M. Ward @ Apollo Theatre w/ pics

2009-02-27T18:56:00.005-05:00

February 19, 2009

Bad news first; M. Ward seemed only marginally enthusiastic for his quick, first ever show at the esteemed Apollo Theatre and was beset with sound problems all night. The good news; Zooey Deschanel was nowhere to be seen. Thus, any She & Him songs would be less lionized, if M. Ward even felt the need to go there. Which he did, briefly, with “Never Had Nobody Like You”.

In general, M. Ward’s hazy country-infused vocals were equal parts sentimentality and robustness--rustling and gliding over a gently strummed chord (“Lulllabye & Exile”) or guttural and assertive (“Vincent O’Brien”). His band, when summoned, perfectly paralleled his dynamic shifts and expressive gestures, sounding heavy and hard or light and soft depending on the song. Each time their balance and touch was superb.

Tech problems showed up during Ward’s most delicate portion of the set (of course). During “Oh Lonesome Me” and the solo “One Hundred Million Years”, crackling cables plagued the bubbly flow of his guitar’s twang. Though he tried to overpower the obvious sound issues, even his forceful yet deft finger-picking blues could not defy the jolting crunches of misconnected mic cable.

Time, and audio problems, practically paused for “Post War”, as everything seemed to melt into the song’s gentle shuffle and Ward’s exposed baritone. We believed him when he sang, “I know when everything feels wrong”.

Maybe cause something was. Not that I could pinpoint its cause, but my +1 and I seemed to narrow it down to the incessant technical errors and an overly belligerent crowd—one that would not let Ward’s tranquil indie-folk rock be and kept demanding requests. Just let the man’s fragile muse work!

This made the set anxious and rushed, clocking in at just over an hour.

On the other hand, the pacing of his set didn’t of come as a shocker. An animated windowpane, projected onto the black backdrop behind the band, gradually progressed from dusk to starry night to dawn, an explicit indicator of where the night was going and when it would end. Conversely, it did give the impression of being included in some sort of late-night jam session with Ward.

Ward was at his best when loudest. The Daniel Johnston cover “To Go Home” (which included hollering Vivian Girls, the opener), “Big Boat”, and encore “Roll Over Beethoven”--during which he summoned his inner Little Richard to play some Chuck Berry--all had an air of indifference and movement that made them potently rock ‘n’ roll.

Ben Kweller and the Watson Twins @ Town Hall w/ pics

2009-02-27T03:07:00.009-05:00

February 25, 2009

The Watson Twins and Ben Kweller. Both equal parts Nashville and hipster. Both singers and songwriters of heavy harmonies and simplified melodies. But only Kweller, however, came away from Town Hall Wednesday night with a commanding and energetic performance, aided towards the end by a dancing infant.

Starting off with poor sound didn’t help the Watson Twins. What sounded muddled with overwhelming bass drones in the balcony sounded more balanced in the orchestra. But the twins’ vocals got lost in the shuddering bass.

During “Only You”, keyboard played the high-pitched guitar strums that appear during each chorus. But it failed to emulate the electric guitar’s other quavering and haunting holds. Instead a nylon-string guitar was innocuously thrummed. This same guitar didn’t suffice for their popular “How Am I to Be”—during which they suggested shoulder dipping as a substitute for actually dancing; be careful what you wish for.

All this begs the question: where was the strikingly bright guitar that provides such a pivotal counterweight to the twins’ soaring harmonies?

They floated through the Bill Withers standard “Ain’t No Sunshine”, but as people they’re too sanguine to seem heartbroken or lonely. (Maybe because they always have each other around?) In general their vocals were soft and beautiful, but too light. They exuded no energy in their 45 minutes, leaving behind a pretty banal set.

In contrast, BK showed up to play his heart out. He prompted the light tech to turn up the houselights so he could size up his excitable crowd and then pursued a relentless setlist covering all the bases. Charging through old favorites like “Walk On Me” and “Falling” Kweller was urbane and sincere, his voice easily seizing the hall’s wide space.

Buttery smooth, his band (drums, bass, pedal-steel guitar) infused Kweller’s country roots into his indie lyricism and punk ethos to form a powerful and cohesive musical synthesis. Whenever BK added throwback vocables to a verse it pointed to a past era of pop.

While Kweller sampled material from his latest fare, Changing Horses, its lead track (“Gypsy Rose”) was surprisingly the best song of the night simply because of its delicate balance and Kweller’s sonorous tenor praising love as the saving grace.

His new song “Fight” was a stellar showcase of his band’s three-part chops and unleashed an unshakable melody during the encore.

I found the ending a little awkward, though, as everyone in the crowd decided to get up and dance for the last three minutes of the show. I couldn’t stop thinking, why didn’t they just get up and dance the entire show? Was the setting too intimidating? Too reserved? But what really stole the show was Kweller’s toddler son, Dorian, upstage, rocking out to his daddy’s big finale at the end.

Toad the Wet Sprocket @ Webster Hall w/ pics

2009-02-27T02:22:00.002-05:00

February 26, 2009

That Toad the Wet Sprocket ended their show Thursday night singing, “Just memories to hold/ That grow sweeter each season/ As we slowly grow old” was fitting given the circumstances. They’re playing yet another reunion tour and the nostalgia of early 90’s alternative pop stardom lingered closely, both for them and their fans. Front man Glen Phillips is the only member with a compelling or successful solo career. But it also wasn’t the catalyst for their seminal break up so hitting the road with Toad—as they’re affectionately referred to—was for pleasure, not business.

Webster Hall—which underwent a “renovation” recently, meaning converting its ambiguously ancient Egypt/Aztec theme into an ambiguously ancient Rome/Medieval theme—was relatively packed with only 35 year-olds. One could still feel the pumping bass of remixes playing in the basement bar. But as this was a trip down memory lane, including trying to reenact past make-out sessions and substance abuses, nothing could deter them.

It also made me consider a notion I once heard that musical tastes are cemented by age 25. Looking around me it seemed perfectly true.

Finally taking the stage, the band made a few quips about it being great to see everyone “again” and launched into “P.S.”, a song with steady strumming with a beat to match. Supposedly one of the band’s first compositions ever (1986?), it was an appropriate nod to their history together and the first of many during their set.

Classics like “Something’s Always Wrong” and “Whatever I Fear” wallowed in the flannel-cloaked angst of their 90’s heyday, but the mood was memorializing. Guitarist Todd Nichols’ guitar echoed a brilliant reverb through his Vox, and in tandem with Phillips’ acoustic guitar reproduced their prototypical guitar-drenched sound.

Before “Butterflies” Phillips asked, “who knows the hidden spoken words on Butterflies?” A worthy winner was chosen, Karen, who then got to go perform the song onstage with the band. Though undoubtedly excited, she played it super cool.

“Good Intentions” received some of the loudest cheers during the night, to the point that the show could have been mistaken for a “Friends” cast party.

Phillips complimented how beautifully the crowd aged, then proceeded to mock the very same thing, offering up their mandolin and lap steel player Johnny Hawthorn for parties, weddings, and bar mitzvahs—and dates added bass player Dean Dinning. The band’s self-deprecating handling of its reunion played well with the equally aging crowd, leaving a night of reminiscing and old-fashioned alternative rock.

And the winner is...Karen!