Live Review: No Age at Bowery Ballroom [5.6.08]

Duos are unique in their focused vision by default. They're immune to dissolving into a mess of non essential elements or complete overboard unnecessary ensemble. They escape the problems of a huge collaborative project and in No Age's case distill the melody down into the important parts, all filtered through layers of effects...all without losing their punk spirit.
But calling them 'punk' is simplifying, they still allow for the introspective 'Things I did When I Was Dead' or 'Cappo' with it's Brian Wilson soft echo, they are more than just cramming punk into a new category they're allowing some breathing room for the pure sound and experimentation. I didn't expect the full on moshing and stage diving at the Bowery though, it's a testament to the band to work on both levels with an audience keeping their enthusiasm throughout feedback loops and synth.


It's still impressive how the sound conjured up can be so all encompassing with just the two of them blowing out every corner. The vocals were even more buried under the echo, but of course...their recorded material is layers and layers of building guitar distortion and fuzz, this recipe that throws it all together and feels like all possibilities.... every single note all at once. And then a hook will explode out of the haze anchoring the chaos, and they don't waste time drawing it out, the point is made and it's on to the next song. Anything recognizable is fleeting, appearing for a moment blasted into existence.




There is something undeniably about marking a time and place in this sound that could be compared to Pavement's Westing (by musket and sextant), that essential noise, the pure sound is at the heart of the driving rhythms, but it's different, somehow made new again.
What does it take after being unencumbered by rock/punk predecessors, sounding like their ignoring everything previously to come out and evolve on the other side? Where do you go from that groundbreaking first release? No age wasn't created in that vacuum waiting to be discovered... they are definitely in the middle of it, reflecting and appropriating punk along with a Black Dice loop aesthetic which makes for unnatural transitions between songs, from an almost ambient melodic organ loop to 2 minute barrage of noise.



The only trouble is they felt out of their element at the Bowery, removed from the audience trying to fill the half empty stage...they're more at home at a Toddp venue, thriving on the unconventional alternative spaces crowds and atmosphere. This could be a difficult transition to a massive live audience which thanks to immediate acclaim of 'Nouns' is just going to demand these venues in the future.

Along with all of this comes a history of being part of a definitive underground scene in LA and Thanking High Places and Fiasco before them, they left with the same community DIY spirit that they rolled into the Bowery and countless basement loft spaces before them.

[Photos by Sean O'Kane]

Live Photos: The Night Marchers @ Mercury Lounge [5.07.08]

Photos from The Night Marchers NYC performance on May 7, 2008













Full gallery available on Flickr.

Live Review: Calvin Harris at the Bowery Ballroom [4.28.08]

Among his many charms, Calvin Harris is quite direct. His songs don’t meander around before getting to their core message – no, he gets straight to the point. The pattern began to emerge as Calvin tore through his upbeat set at the Bowery Ballroom. In “Merry Making at My Place,” Calvin tells us just what is happening at his place. You guessed it – merrymaking, and drug taking. In “Girls,” he expounds upon exactly what kind of girls he likes: namely, Black girls, White girls, Asian girls, mixed raced girls, Spanish girls, Italian girls, French girls, Scandinavian girls. “Acceptable in the 80’s” lists the rewards bestowed upon those lucky enough to have been born in that magical decade: specifically love, and hugs. Dylan he aint, but hey, at least Calvin Harris is a straight shooter.

In addition to his propensity towards lyrical list-making, Calvin Harris also wants to make us dance. In fact, he’s determined. A bundle of energy on stage, Harris is backed by an able band, who also serve as hype men of sorts – when not playing guitar, one member runs from side to side of the stage, mugging to the crowd and taunting us to cheer louder. It’s a rainy Monday night, and the majority of the sold out crowd must be soggy and frizzy from the days’ downpour, probably still recovering from their wild weekends, or else trying to shake off the first bout of 9-to-5 exhaustion. It’s not an easy task, but Calvin Harris is dedicated, and he’ll jump around the stage as much as it takes until we’re jumping along, and then keep going.


Turns out, it doesn’t take much to get us to dancing, and Calvin’s smooth beats coupled with those catchy hooks are pretty much irrefutable. You’ll probably sing along too, as on “This is Industry”, or “Vegas”, where the hook, “When I go to Vegas!” becomes an immediate chant in the crowd. Though Calvin’s lyrics are pure irony - Are they? They are. I think? - his music is pure dancefloor. He may not have created disco, as his debut album title would lead us to believe, but he has created a unique hybrid combining commercial dance music’s cheese, pop music’s irresistibility, and punk rock’s detached attitude and brevity.

It’s a winning formula, to say the least.


[Photos by Mina K]

Live Review: Awesome Color @ Market Hotel [5.3.08]

Saturday night, early a.m., Market Hotel. Atmospheric conditions: smudging fog and cold. Indoor atmospheric conditions: hazy smoke, the humidity of sweat and beer. I ask myself some questions as my blurred eyes try to take in the situation—aware, only too aware, that I must try to communicate this to you, reader, at some point— how much garage punk dirty crazed repetitive repetitive psychedelia can be packed into a single evening? And how can I describe it? The answer to the first question is never enough, never ever enough, and the answer to the second is: uhh, whoops didn’t I sort of just do that?

Well, here are some facts to start off: Mean Motion, the Usasisamonster, and Awesome Color performed music at Market Hotel in celebration of Awesome Color’s new album, Electric Aborigines. Organized by the unstoppable Todd P, the show had that easy-going, connected feeling you can’t buy at the official venues. The sheer simplicity of it all felt like freedom: do what you want, when you want, how you want. Of course, because of this, the music became the main focus. It’s a free choice: and we choose good, new, different music.

So, Mean Motion, from the Netherlands, came on stage, unobtrusively got behind their instruments, and began playing long swells of guitar/synthesized noise while underneath there pulsed some simple yet unhinged and powerful drum patterns. They cleaned ears and cleared heads with their slow, ecstatic oceans of noise. (They are on tour in the U.S. and playing again at Baghdad on the 9^th by the way.)

The second band, The Usaisamonster, provided a very different take on rhythm and noise: there were eccentric rhythmic and melodic patterns, extreme fist-pumping riffage, psychotic guitar ex-planetary fibrillations, and, even, short little moments of hoarse, burned plain chant. Our bodies did not know whether to fly left or right or all over the place. Unselfconscious pop folk avant-garde war path rock music: definitely fun.

And then Awesome Color came up, drunk and dirty and ready. It is no accident, it seems, that they were paired with the other two, as all the bands had a common theme of an “aboriginal” sound (as in, not necessarily Native [though, the plight of the American Indians is a major theme for Usaisamonster], but rather Original, Ur-, Basic, Before). Awesome Color’s particular attempt to get back to the primitive through sophisticated but mistreated electronic equipment like guitars and amps ran into difficulty when singer/guitarist Derek Stanton’s guitar broke on the first song. And then his second guitar broke mid-way in the set. Of course, the punishment that these instruments took made it understandable that they would collapse. The raging, literally shambolic guitar fought a constant battle with the solid rhythm of the drum and bass. Oft-compared to other Michigan natives The Stooges and MC5, Awesome Color’s music descended into the pounding throbbing noise expected and desired by the thinned-out but bouncing-off-each-other crowd. But most importantly, they completed the party atmosphere of the night, and brought show’s family of strangers together in one big final friendly danse macabre.

[words by John Melillo]
[Photo courtesy of Awesome Color's official website]

In and Out :: Coldplay's "Violet Hill" Track Review

The new Coldplay cut, "Violet Hill" dropped a few mornings ago and the reaction was fast and tepid. Most people didn't hate it but Perez Hilton claimed immediate, undying love, an endorsement that may do more harm than good. Though no one was willing to say X&Y sucked three years ago, it seems most positive reviews include phrases like "returning to form" and "the band at its best." At the very least, it implies that this is more "Clocks" and less "Speed of Sound." At the very least, now we can all speak openly about the completely underwhelming X&Y. If nothing else this new Coldplay song and album have offered us peace of mind regarding their last disaster.

Everyone else is right; "Violet Hill" isn't terrible. It has the same plodding piano chord progressions that Chris Martin probably writes while eating vegan porkchops and watching Deal or No Deal. The sound is big and wet and maybe even a little desperate. As Martin intones in the chorus, "if you love me/won't you let me know?" It's an appeal and suggestion all in one. Sound a little like a band who burned some bridges on the last record? Later, Martin wistfully allegorizes with "I don't want to be a solider/or the captain of some sinking ship." Basically, Chris Martin won't be a solider in someone else's army but, he's not going to be in charge of an unsuccessful operation either. Neither citizen nor dictator, Martin has become the leader of an untenable democracy.

Input isn't everything and not all opinions matter. After letting his guitarist experiment his way into destroying his last album, Martin and Coldplay are back to trying to be U2. That's something they can all agree on. But what kind of leader calls his band a "sinking ship?" That doesn't sound like Bono and The Edge. That doesn't even sound like Allen Iverson and Larry Brown. That ain't a triumphant return and it it ain't a Phoenix from the flames. It's a self-handicapping prelude to a solo record.

Coldplay took this thing as far the formula goes. Attempts to expand or redefine the parameters of the band failed. Chris Martin still fancies himself a poet and it all adds up to the simple fact: when you hear Coldplay's new album Viva La Vida in June, it will be their last. Period.

Live Photos: Joseph Arthur @ MOMAR [4.26.08]

Loose Record joined the prolific Joseph Arthur at Brooklyn gallery MOMAR (aka Museum of Modern Arthur) for a record release party to celebrate Arthur's Crazy Rain EP - the second of 4 EPs being released by Arthur within 4 months. Partygoers celebrated the release with a rare solo performance, featuring special guests.

[Photos by Lori Baily]

Live Review :: Motel Motel @ The Annex [4.26.08]

"I don't need your help. I can feel helpless on my own." It's a paralyzingly lonely message coming out of Eric Engel's mouth and we're only two songs into the set. Depending on who you ask, Engel is either talking about a failed relationship or the inherent and troubling aspects of being an indie rock band in New York City. Despite a relatively full house and a recent "Honorable Mention" in the L Magazine, Motel Motel is still fighting their way through the fuzz; and it's lonely as hell.

If you can't hear the heartbreak in Engel's voice, you're not listening hard enough. The phonics are twisted and the aesthetic is nasal - like Conor Oberst decided to go front The Walkmen. The graveled tones sound like Marlboro Reds on a Saturday night, cut with a glass of bourbon to wash down a sore throat. On this night, Motel Motel squeezed a string-quartet on stage (at the Annex this is clown-car impressive) and even as the strings rise, the emotional punch is coming from the singer. We're supposed to feel moved. And it's working.

There are slow spots, to be sure - a little depression mixed with some booze and a girl who burnt your house down (metaphorically). It starts to wear. After all, you can only break our hearts so many times before they're just broken, never to be fixed again. If the show is missing something, it's pathos. We came here to bleed but, hopefully, to heal. It's unclear if Engel is ready to close the wound. The lyrics are faded romantics and the songs a blend of honkey-tonk piano, soaring strings, and twitchy, thrashing breakdowns; at least a little disjunctive. If there's catharsis here, we're going to have to find it on our own. It looks like Engel's got his own shit to deal with.

But it's not all Kate Bush and thundershowers; there's something uplifting in play. In the final pre-encore song of the night, during one of the drastic (but leaning toward productive) tempo changes Engel says, "I won't let you down." He says it no less than five times and things get a little brighter. The crowd is starting to get drunk and the dancefloor is starting to pack. If Motel Motel intentionally brought us down, they might just end bringing us up. The bassist ends up pounding on the piano and it's more exuberance than frustration. If they began the night as another New York band fighting a million other New York bands for ink, fans, and cash, they're ending it with a punch. They thank us and begin the world's largest equipment breakdown.

But they didn't break us down without fixing us up. Engel's got his problems and so do we. Our problems just don't go as well with flourishing strings. Our problems don't sound quite as painful or quite as dramatic when they come out of our mouths. And our problems probably won't get us noticed in a city full of bands with problems. But his might. So pound that fucking keyboard.

Live Review: YACHT at Studio B [4.16.08]

Love makes people do crazy things. Move halfway across the world, get a conspicuous tattoo of your partners’ name, or maybe adopt a mean-spirited puppy together in hopes of taming it through teamwork and the strength of your love. In the case of the one-man-band YACHT (aka Jona Bechtolt), he simply decided to add his girlfriend to the line up.

Yes, the performance at Studio B was Brooklyn’s first taste of YACHT as a twosome. The news of the lineup change was admittedly met with skepticism on my part. While the pairing of Jona and Khaela Maricich, his female counterpart in the Blow, was an inspired musical match, the original concept of YACHT had such a singular appeal – singular being the key word. A man, his laptop, his beats, his moves. The most compact cavalcade of energy and fun with the ability to get a crowd dancing wildly in a circle way better than that joker Dan Deacon.



In her sparkly dress, new member Claire Evans looks rad. She and Jona certainly compliment one another aesthetically. But after the visual bedazzling wears off, disillusionment sets in – these are the songs I’ve heard before, but there’s another voice in the mix. Those are the smooth dance moves I remember, but there’s two more feet jumping around the stage. The presence of another person feels distracting. I have nothing personal against Ms. Evans – she is quite charming and funny when she addresses the audience (“Clap when your heart tells you to. Don’t let song breaks dictate when you clap,” she told us between numbers,) but the addition of any new member into the mix of YACHT show would be an unwelcome one. If the original formula is a success, why change it?



That aside, Jona and Claire are dancing and sweating up a storm. Jona perfectly executes his signature move in which he mimes the pressing buttons on some sort of large invisible machine. Sometimes he and Claire dance together, and it is obviously adorable. They sing a song in which proclaim, “You can live anywhere you want!” and then proceed to list exactly where: Underwater! In the desert! On the beach!

Unfortunately, the two vocals just don’t seem compatible – they yell out the lyrics simultaneously, not unlike cheerleaders at a pep rally. There’s not enough give and take between the two, and instead, they often seem to be performing in their own version of the same solo show- simultaneously.



The new incarnation of YACHT seems extremely fun for the two members involved, a pleasant activity for the couple to do together - like a trip to the flea market or a weekend camping excursion. Who hasn’t looked at their boyfriend or girlfriend on a lazy Sunday afternoon, and exclaimed, “Let’s start a band!” The only difference is, YACHT already was a band, and a pretty good one. As much as I admire young love and togetherness, I just don’t know that I want to hear a love song introduced with the statement, “I wrote this song about her,” as Jona did, gesturing to his bandmate. I wish the couple all the best in their romance, but as a band, I still wish Jona was flying solo.



[Photos by Mina K]