So last weekend I went to Philadelphia to see the Wrens perform in the basement of the 1st Unitarian Church…Yes, I saw the Wrens in the basement of a church. Not an everyday occurrence I may remind you. I mean there were literally Sunday school drawings on the walls of a room that could not possibly hold more than 200 people. I arrived early enough to see the first opener, Palomar, pump out some good old fashioned pop-punk, complete with awkward sideglances during time changes and choreographed guitar dueling. They were beaming the whole time and I couldn’t help smiling as well; I felt like I was back at a high school battle of the bands.
Next up was +/- , who played what I'd like to dub as “post-emo” (please ignore my inventing another pompous music genre), which consisted of a little more talent (the drummer was the standout) and layering than your typical emo sound. They had a bunch of prerecorded synth material, which did sound pretty cool, but I get the feeling that if you took all that electronic gimmickry away they wouldn’t have much.
But I’m getting distracted, I came to see the Wrens rock Philadelphia. And rock they did. First, Charles Bissell (guitarist/singer) and Greg Whelan (guitarist) crept onstage to a growing applause while one provided some rhythm guitar and the other doodled around on a loop machine. Eventually, they built their guitar layering into a familiar but not quite recognizable song. They brought it up and broke it down a few times, creating a tension that was only relieved when the drummer, Jerry MacDonald, and bassist, Kevin Whelan, joined them onstage and the band erupted into “This Boy is Exhausted”. They hushed up for the haunting “House that Guilt Built” and then brought it back up for an hour of pure energy, mixing material from Secaucus and The Meadowlands.
The Wrens demonstrated an intensity and love for the crowd that made this concert one of best I’ve seen in a long time. Halfway through the set they invited the crowd onstage and handed out drumsticks for them to play with. People were banging on anything they could get their hands on and everyone in the whole place was yelling along. When they played one of the faster and more intense songs from Meadowlands, “Faster Gun” I thought the basement would explode. As if to prolong my separation from reality, between the encores, someone in the crowd proposed to his girlfriend. The Wrens ended the night with “She Sends Kisses” and they gave it their best with a final sweaty sing along and the audience belted out every word. I left with a feeling of pure euphoria and a renewed faith in rock.
If you don't know the Wrens I'd recommend "Hopeless" off The Meadowlands.
-John
Monday, October 30, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Night Falls on Hoboken
A couple weeks ago I saw Yo La Tengo and Why? Perform at the Loews Theater in Jersey City. I bought tickets to this show months in advance; seeing Yo La Tengo essentially in their hometown in an old movie theater designed like a 19th century opera house isn’t something I’d try to avoid. The theater itself was a huge ornately gilded space with frescoes on the high ceiling. The inside was beautiful; with a two-story foyer complete with a grand sloping staircase and enormous gold chandelier shining on the milling crowd of people below. I was content to find a large portion of this crowd was comprised of aging Gen Xers, pleasantly lacking any of that New York pretension one typically finds at such events.
As the lights dimmed and we took our seats, the opening act, Why?, began to play. They started off with a few staples from their album, Elephant Eyelash (including: “Crushed Bones”, “Fall Saddles”, “Yo Yo Bye Bye”) playing with intensity, but a frustrating feeling of amateurism. Indeed, the band was never quite together; the lead guitar/keyboard would miss notes sporadically and singer Yoni Wolf’s voice was noticeably worse live than in the studio. However, the drummer held the beat with a metronomic sense of time, and Wolf’s impassioned delivery was assuredly commendable. After making it through a couple songs they began to find their groove, and demonstrated some enthusiastic performances of some of my favorite material, including “Gemini (Birthday Song).”
After about 20 minutes they decided to test run some new material, a move which they announced was the result of a certain “Julie’s” wishes. Thanks to Julie, for the rest of the set we all had to endure some fairly uninspired and affected sounding material, with a few of the band’s less captivating older songs thrown in. The new songs lacked the oddly endearing charm that made Elephant Eyelash so good. The attempt to replicate the unexpected and quirky, yet strangely powerful metaphors, and colloquial plays on words found on their debut album, just fell short in the newer songs. I did enjoy seeing them, but they clearly need a little more practice on the road.
Yo La Tengo opened with “Sugarcube” to an eruption of applause; at which point I could have left the concert satisfied. For the next half hour they jammed out the distortion, rolling and rollicking along à la Sister Ray. They toned it down a bit in the middle of their set to play some of their new material off their newly released album, I’m not afraid of You and I will Beat Your Ass. Lead singer/guitarist Ira Kaplan traded in his guitar for a piano on these numbers that might be construed as an evolution of the soft-synth and vocal tracks that they do so well. But the newer songs, although pleasant, seemed to me a little bit too much in the vein of the pretty pop found in Belle and Sebastian’s newer material, which doesn’t really moved past its purely aesthetic value.
Every once in a while Yo La Tengo would slip back into their earlier sound, jamming an old ditty into a 20 minute noisy epic; and with 20+ years of experience under their belt, they do it well. At this point they’re old hands at this game, and they put to shame any contemporary bands’ attempts to replicate the same aesthetic. Moe Tucker allusions aside, drummer Georgia Hubley’s simplicity complements the band well, and with James McNew’s consistent bass and keyboard, they provide the perfect sonic background for Ira Kaplan’s distortion soaked noodlings.
Unfortunately, the experience was slightly diminished by the fact that the venue required everyone in the audience to remain seating. This aspect didn’t appear to phase the slightly more advanced in age crowd, but for my friends in I, the general consensus was that watching Yo La Tengo calls for a more energetic and sweaty communal experience than was allowed for. In my opinion, however, the impressive musical performance that Yo La Tengo gave was the determining factor. By the end of the show, while I watched Ira Kaplan scraping his guitar into a beautiful cacophonic climax, I had forgotten entirely about any annoyances caused by my sitting down.
I'd reccommend "Cherry Chapstick" by Yo La Tengo off of their album And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-out.
John and Tony
As the lights dimmed and we took our seats, the opening act, Why?, began to play. They started off with a few staples from their album, Elephant Eyelash (including: “Crushed Bones”, “Fall Saddles”, “Yo Yo Bye Bye”) playing with intensity, but a frustrating feeling of amateurism. Indeed, the band was never quite together; the lead guitar/keyboard would miss notes sporadically and singer Yoni Wolf’s voice was noticeably worse live than in the studio. However, the drummer held the beat with a metronomic sense of time, and Wolf’s impassioned delivery was assuredly commendable. After making it through a couple songs they began to find their groove, and demonstrated some enthusiastic performances of some of my favorite material, including “Gemini (Birthday Song).”
After about 20 minutes they decided to test run some new material, a move which they announced was the result of a certain “Julie’s” wishes. Thanks to Julie, for the rest of the set we all had to endure some fairly uninspired and affected sounding material, with a few of the band’s less captivating older songs thrown in. The new songs lacked the oddly endearing charm that made Elephant Eyelash so good. The attempt to replicate the unexpected and quirky, yet strangely powerful metaphors, and colloquial plays on words found on their debut album, just fell short in the newer songs. I did enjoy seeing them, but they clearly need a little more practice on the road.
Yo La Tengo opened with “Sugarcube” to an eruption of applause; at which point I could have left the concert satisfied. For the next half hour they jammed out the distortion, rolling and rollicking along à la Sister Ray. They toned it down a bit in the middle of their set to play some of their new material off their newly released album, I’m not afraid of You and I will Beat Your Ass. Lead singer/guitarist Ira Kaplan traded in his guitar for a piano on these numbers that might be construed as an evolution of the soft-synth and vocal tracks that they do so well. But the newer songs, although pleasant, seemed to me a little bit too much in the vein of the pretty pop found in Belle and Sebastian’s newer material, which doesn’t really moved past its purely aesthetic value.
Every once in a while Yo La Tengo would slip back into their earlier sound, jamming an old ditty into a 20 minute noisy epic; and with 20+ years of experience under their belt, they do it well. At this point they’re old hands at this game, and they put to shame any contemporary bands’ attempts to replicate the same aesthetic. Moe Tucker allusions aside, drummer Georgia Hubley’s simplicity complements the band well, and with James McNew’s consistent bass and keyboard, they provide the perfect sonic background for Ira Kaplan’s distortion soaked noodlings.
Unfortunately, the experience was slightly diminished by the fact that the venue required everyone in the audience to remain seating. This aspect didn’t appear to phase the slightly more advanced in age crowd, but for my friends in I, the general consensus was that watching Yo La Tengo calls for a more energetic and sweaty communal experience than was allowed for. In my opinion, however, the impressive musical performance that Yo La Tengo gave was the determining factor. By the end of the show, while I watched Ira Kaplan scraping his guitar into a beautiful cacophonic climax, I had forgotten entirely about any annoyances caused by my sitting down.
I'd reccommend "Cherry Chapstick" by Yo La Tengo off of their album And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-out.
John and Tony
Friday, October 06, 2006
Gondry, Music, Greatness
On Saturday I went to see Michele Gondry’s new film, The Science of Sleep, and I enjoyed it quite a bit. The cinematography, as is usually the case with Gondry, was dazzling, surreal, and some of the sequences were quite beautiful. However, I think that Gondry’s last film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, benefited greatly from the contribution of acclaimed writer, Charlie Kaufman - who wrote the screenplay. I found the story line of the latter film more developed, and the film more cohesive overall. Nonetheless, The Science of Sleep is absolutely worth watching.
Eternal Sunshine has one of my favorite contemporary film scores, and although Jon Brion, who arranged it, was not in charge of the music in Gondry’s new film, Jean-Michel Bernard’s soundtrack is also great. Gondry has a unique ability to blend music and images in his cinematography, and does so effectively in The Science of Sleep.
One thing I love about the score to Eternal Sunshine is its ability to stand on its own. It has, along with the soundtrack to Lost in Translation, remained in my ‘most often played CD pile’ for a couple years. Although my only basis for judging the score of The Science of Sleep was hearing it as it accompanied the film itself, it seems to achieve a similar quality.
Eternal Sunshine has one of my favorite contemporary film scores, and although Jon Brion, who arranged it, was not in charge of the music in Gondry’s new film, Jean-Michel Bernard’s soundtrack is also great. Gondry has a unique ability to blend music and images in his cinematography, and does so effectively in The Science of Sleep.
One thing I love about the score to Eternal Sunshine is its ability to stand on its own. It has, along with the soundtrack to Lost in Translation, remained in my ‘most often played CD pile’ for a couple years. Although my only basis for judging the score of The Science of Sleep was hearing it as it accompanied the film itself, it seems to achieve a similar quality.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Clap Your Hands Conservatively
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah has created quite a buzz in the independent music scene. Indeed, their debut album Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, has received a lot of press, especially from Internet blogs, such as Pitchfork. Thus helping establish them a solid fan base, and a name alongside The Arcade Fire in the independent pop scene. They are currently on tour with friends and fellow indie-pop favorites, Architecture in Helsinki, as well as Takka Takka.
Last Monday night I saw their first of two shows at The Vic Theater. Unfortunately, the opener, Takka Takka, was less than uninspiring. It sounded as if the band had listened to Elvis Costello’s debut album, My Aim Is True, and decided to write some songs. The consequence is a collection of generic, short songs, with unmemorable –or memorable only insofar as they were frequently off key – vocals, and a lack of stage presence. They sounded tight, but sorely lacked a unique sound, and a talented singer. Their only saving grace was that John Paul Jones, the bassist (hmm...), is endearingly goofy, and fun to watch.
Architecture in Helsinki, by contrast, stole the show. Although I mostly liked their sophomore album Fingers Crossed, and their latest, In Case We Die, as well, I’m not a huge Architecture fan. That being said, they did put on a damn good live show. I found it slightly lacking in variation, but it was solid nonetheless. They played very little from the two albums I am most familiar with, and instead played a bundle of new material, most of which was quite dancey. It seems as though everybody is jumping on this bandwagon, but few pull it off; Architecture in Helsinki comes close.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah did not exactly disappoint. However, they were somewhat of an anti climax after Architecture’s set. The only noteworthy remarks I can make are that they rocked a lot harder than I expected, and performed some of their new material. But with the exception of one, the newer songs sounded as if they were b-sides from their debut album that were understandably cut from the release. Highlights include Alec Ounsworth (singer/songwriter), coming on stage with a loudspeaker, through which he sang, with the band’s accompaniment, the quirky opening track off their self-titled album.
I’d recommend “The Owls Go” by Architecture in Helsinki, off of their album Fingers Crossed, and “The Details of the War” by Clap Yours Hands Say Yeah, off of their only album.
Last Monday night I saw their first of two shows at The Vic Theater. Unfortunately, the opener, Takka Takka, was less than uninspiring. It sounded as if the band had listened to Elvis Costello’s debut album, My Aim Is True, and decided to write some songs. The consequence is a collection of generic, short songs, with unmemorable –or memorable only insofar as they were frequently off key – vocals, and a lack of stage presence. They sounded tight, but sorely lacked a unique sound, and a talented singer. Their only saving grace was that John Paul Jones, the bassist (hmm...), is endearingly goofy, and fun to watch.
Architecture in Helsinki, by contrast, stole the show. Although I mostly liked their sophomore album Fingers Crossed, and their latest, In Case We Die, as well, I’m not a huge Architecture fan. That being said, they did put on a damn good live show. I found it slightly lacking in variation, but it was solid nonetheless. They played very little from the two albums I am most familiar with, and instead played a bundle of new material, most of which was quite dancey. It seems as though everybody is jumping on this bandwagon, but few pull it off; Architecture in Helsinki comes close.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah did not exactly disappoint. However, they were somewhat of an anti climax after Architecture’s set. The only noteworthy remarks I can make are that they rocked a lot harder than I expected, and performed some of their new material. But with the exception of one, the newer songs sounded as if they were b-sides from their debut album that were understandably cut from the release. Highlights include Alec Ounsworth (singer/songwriter), coming on stage with a loudspeaker, through which he sang, with the band’s accompaniment, the quirky opening track off their self-titled album.
I’d recommend “The Owls Go” by Architecture in Helsinki, off of their album Fingers Crossed, and “The Details of the War” by Clap Yours Hands Say Yeah, off of their only album.
Carry Me, Ohio
Nice little bit on a Sufjan Stevens, and music in the Midwest on SpaceTropic today. To quote part of it:
And I guess I'm interested, these days, in any art that brings us back to the old, weird America - the people and states and municipalities along train routes and highways. To take on such subjects seems like defiant innovation in the face of so much self-centered, self-referential media (Studio 60 anyone?) which endlessly churns forth from the East and West coast.
I think this topic resonates with all of us here in Chicagoland. Indeed, many of the great independent pop bands coming out of the Midwest right now propagate a similar mentality. A personal favorite of mine, Mark Kozelek, of the Red House Painters, and now Sun Kil Moon, comes to mind especially. He is an Ohioan, and many of his lyrics paint nostalgic pictures of the Midwest, which stir feelings of desolation, beauty and longing. In fact, most of his recent tours have included dates almost entirely in the Midwest.
If you’ve never heard Mark Kozelek, I’d highly recommend the Sun Kil Moon album Ghosts of the Great Highway, especially the song “Carry Me Ohio.”
And I guess I'm interested, these days, in any art that brings us back to the old, weird America - the people and states and municipalities along train routes and highways. To take on such subjects seems like defiant innovation in the face of so much self-centered, self-referential media (Studio 60 anyone?) which endlessly churns forth from the East and West coast.
I think this topic resonates with all of us here in Chicagoland. Indeed, many of the great independent pop bands coming out of the Midwest right now propagate a similar mentality. A personal favorite of mine, Mark Kozelek, of the Red House Painters, and now Sun Kil Moon, comes to mind especially. He is an Ohioan, and many of his lyrics paint nostalgic pictures of the Midwest, which stir feelings of desolation, beauty and longing. In fact, most of his recent tours have included dates almost entirely in the Midwest.
If you’ve never heard Mark Kozelek, I’d highly recommend the Sun Kil Moon album Ghosts of the Great Highway, especially the song “Carry Me Ohio.”
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Disappointed in the Auditorium
The Friday before last I went to watch The Mars Volta perform at the Aragon Theater, on the north side of Chicago. The theater is a massive building, but even more bizarre. If you’ve been there, you know what I mean. The lobby is a large, marble, open area with overly ornate architecture and designs on the floor and ceiling. When you ascend the wide staircase to the stage area, what you find is Medieval Times converted into a music venue. Fake parapets and other “medieval” fortifications decorate the walls, and an enormously high ceiling displays fourth grade level drawings of stars and galaxies.
After waiting in the rain with a mostly high school age crowd (many of whom had been there since 2 pm), I staked out my place inside this unique venue. There I was, in soaking wet clothes, crunched up close to the front of the stage, nut to butt with screaming, laughing, and smoking 16 year olds. My spirits weren’t too low, however, because The Mars Volta, whose live show I had heard so much about, were to come on in only thirty minutes. However, the Mars Volta did not grace us with their presence at the allotted hour. Even the stalwart fans who surrounded me (indeed, I heard the Mars Volta likened to God, and the concert to the second coming more than twice during our wait) began to get a little anxious.
Finally, after screaming themselves hoarse and more than an hour after the concert was scheduled to begin, the indistinguishable radio music which had been blaring on the monitors stopped short and the lights went out. When the Mexican National Anthem began to blast from the speakers and the lights went red, and the silhouetted figures of the Mars Volta emerged, fists raised, from backstage, I thought the kids around me might collapse into seizure.
The anthem ended, and Blake Fleming (who is replacing Jon Theodore for the tour) started kicking the bass drum rapidly, and a wall of sound erupted. Cedric Bixler-Zavala (lyricist/singer) started dancing frantically and the rest of the tall and lanky band members (who include: Pablo Hinojos-Gonzalez, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, Juan Alderete De la Peña, Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez, and Adrian Terrazas Gonzalez), dressed in skinny jeans and tiny blazers, started pounding out noise on their respective instruments.
For the next two hours the band played through most of their new material, (including songs from Frances the Mute, and their most recent, Amputechture) with extended noisy jams, little dynamic changes, filling in the gaps between songs with cacophonous dissonance, thus making each song barely distinguishable from the next. The only indication that the band had changed songs was that Cedric, in his raspy alto, would start screaming out words in a different key.
With each song, the band attempted the same aesthetic: a noisy crescendo ending in Omar (guitarist/writer) playing very quickly on the guitar, Cedric belting notes in a pitch that I didn’t realize men could reach, and the crowd screaming. Displaying a wide variety of instruments, as the Mars Volta did, doesn’t necessitate musical prowess, especially when these instruments are inaudible over the blaring guitar. Apparently, others disagree. There were moments when the drummer would finally change his rhythm and a catchy African influenced jam would come to a climax. However, these genuine moments of musical excellence were few and far between. And more frustratingly, when they did occur, they were dwarfed and drowned by the rest of the mono-dynamic set.
Pretensions of eclecticism, musicianship, and ingenuity abounded in this live performance, but their execution left me wanting. In fact, I’d describe the experience as mostly frustrating. Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, the brains behind the project, is quite talented, and there is assuredly potential for greatness. But unfortunately, they drown this potential in death metal beats and uninteresting noise. The Mars Volta left me slightly deaf, over stimulated, and wishing that I had seen Sonic Youth.
If you've never heard the Mars Volta before, I'd recommend their first album Deloused in the Comatorium, epsecially the song "Intertiatic E.S.P."
Tony
After waiting in the rain with a mostly high school age crowd (many of whom had been there since 2 pm), I staked out my place inside this unique venue. There I was, in soaking wet clothes, crunched up close to the front of the stage, nut to butt with screaming, laughing, and smoking 16 year olds. My spirits weren’t too low, however, because The Mars Volta, whose live show I had heard so much about, were to come on in only thirty minutes. However, the Mars Volta did not grace us with their presence at the allotted hour. Even the stalwart fans who surrounded me (indeed, I heard the Mars Volta likened to God, and the concert to the second coming more than twice during our wait) began to get a little anxious.
Finally, after screaming themselves hoarse and more than an hour after the concert was scheduled to begin, the indistinguishable radio music which had been blaring on the monitors stopped short and the lights went out. When the Mexican National Anthem began to blast from the speakers and the lights went red, and the silhouetted figures of the Mars Volta emerged, fists raised, from backstage, I thought the kids around me might collapse into seizure.
The anthem ended, and Blake Fleming (who is replacing Jon Theodore for the tour) started kicking the bass drum rapidly, and a wall of sound erupted. Cedric Bixler-Zavala (lyricist/singer) started dancing frantically and the rest of the tall and lanky band members (who include: Pablo Hinojos-Gonzalez, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, Juan Alderete De la Peña, Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez, and Adrian Terrazas Gonzalez), dressed in skinny jeans and tiny blazers, started pounding out noise on their respective instruments.
For the next two hours the band played through most of their new material, (including songs from Frances the Mute, and their most recent, Amputechture) with extended noisy jams, little dynamic changes, filling in the gaps between songs with cacophonous dissonance, thus making each song barely distinguishable from the next. The only indication that the band had changed songs was that Cedric, in his raspy alto, would start screaming out words in a different key.
With each song, the band attempted the same aesthetic: a noisy crescendo ending in Omar (guitarist/writer) playing very quickly on the guitar, Cedric belting notes in a pitch that I didn’t realize men could reach, and the crowd screaming. Displaying a wide variety of instruments, as the Mars Volta did, doesn’t necessitate musical prowess, especially when these instruments are inaudible over the blaring guitar. Apparently, others disagree. There were moments when the drummer would finally change his rhythm and a catchy African influenced jam would come to a climax. However, these genuine moments of musical excellence were few and far between. And more frustratingly, when they did occur, they were dwarfed and drowned by the rest of the mono-dynamic set.
Pretensions of eclecticism, musicianship, and ingenuity abounded in this live performance, but their execution left me wanting. In fact, I’d describe the experience as mostly frustrating. Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, the brains behind the project, is quite talented, and there is assuredly potential for greatness. But unfortunately, they drown this potential in death metal beats and uninteresting noise. The Mars Volta left me slightly deaf, over stimulated, and wishing that I had seen Sonic Youth.
If you've never heard the Mars Volta before, I'd recommend their first album Deloused in the Comatorium, epsecially the song "Intertiatic E.S.P."
Tony
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