Last Thursday we had a little Loose Record expedition to the Liam and Me/Automatic Automatic show at the Bowery. Even against xtina's will, she showed up and even looked like she enjoyed herself once. Her on-going, silent feud with Liam and Me's infectious synth-rock reached it's climax the day before the show when she almost, almost refused to go. Despite her reservations she didn't scream "fuck this" during the set and even bounced her feet around once or twice. Maybe there is hope for Israel and Palestine.
The really shit got started after the show when Jon greeted Tom and I with a "There are my dogs!" Jon is our dog and we'll go to war or to drinks with him anytime. The basement bar at the Bowery was serving drinks with all-time hostility and speed. Pretty soon we were drunk again with Liam and Me and exchanging, overly rhetorical statements of fact.
Now, as an aside, I do believe this band is going to make it. Really going to make it.
But put six drinks in me and I have never been more sure of anything in my life. I will stand by both sides of the argument. Yes, they're going to make it. But, it sure helps to drink five rum and cokes to really wrap your mind around this band's potential.
The evening ended up at the Annex which was far too dark and far too loud. Not too loud to order more drinks and not too dark to drink them, however. In time, the night petered out as weekdays have a habit of doing and Tom and I rolled home sometime before three. Noah managed to drunkenly find the F-train and Micah got a ride home from Jon only to lose her nerve and not make a move.
Great night all around that led right into a ridiculous Friday night which ended with xtina, MaggieMcquade, Mina, and assorted others at MaggieMcquade's sometime around 6. I'd give the Essex St. McDonald's about a 5 for service but a solid 10 for being there when Noah and I needed you.
Tuesday night head down to the Mercury to check out The Virgins. Or just listen to them here. Your call. They go on just before 11.
On this rainy Sunday, DW and I were lazy-ing about in our respective homes, in our respective lazy-ing uniforms (courtesy of Fruit of the Loom and delia*s). Quite believably, our IM conversation lead us to muse over some fabulous internet merchandise.
Despite the high price tag, the custom quilts on this site are a prize for any Queensryche fan. Hell, I wanted the "Skullfucked" quilt before I even noticed the pentagrams. A tough choice between that and the "Bangover," which is giving me whiplash as I type this. Accepting sponsors now for my future $1700 queen-sized Queensryche quilt...
Last week at What The Heck Fest #6 in Anacortes, I ran into Jona from YACHT. He's got a new video out, directed by James Sumner. I suggest taking a hallucinogen of your choice before viewing. My tired eyes are not handling this one very well.
I prefer Jona's pleasing videologs of his latest trip to Japan:
Another bizarro music video has just been released by Liars, who will be touring with Interpol soon (also bizarro).
Earlier this week, for a variety of reasons that aren't worth explaining here, I was sitting in the offices of one of the Big Four. It was my first, up-close and personal experience with a major record label and looks like I'll be spending a little more time there. I share this unnecessary piece of personal information for two reasons 1) to be quite honest, it was exciting and 2) as a way of introducing a problem that I spend a lot of time thinking and talking about.
Just how relevant are these ridiculous little bands we cover? Really.
This is really an off-shoot of an elucidating conversation I had with someone about Tokyo Police Club. I referred to them as a "big band" without thinking what I was saying. Shit. They have 10 songs. They sell out in certain "hip" parts of the East Coast but put them in Columbus, OH on a weeknight and they might get outdrawn by an INXS cover band. And yet, they are a slam dunk in New York. Whether you like them or not (their music is not on trial here), you have to concede that they are a big indie draw. But just how much does it mean to be a "big indie draw?" How important are these bands?
Let's talk record sales for a second. It's been a solid year for some of the bigger "indie" bands like The Shins (debuted at number one on Billboard, biggest Sub Pop album without the name Nirvana on it), Interpol (who debuted at four and sold something like 100k week one copies), and Spoon (cracked the Billboard Top 10 in week one). But what about these other smaller bands with smaller labels, less distribution, fewer PR people? How many albums does a band like The Essex Green sell? They're not exactly tipping SoundScan despite having one of the best albums of 2005-2006. I would bet if they sold 15,000 albums all-time that would be a huge release and a financial success for everyone involved. So basically, if the same number of people as attend a minor league baseball game buy your album, you can be a big deal. A big deal to certain people. How out of touch is that?
In the grand scheme of things, an album released on any of the majors needs to move a serious number of units to be successful because of the amount of money invested in the entire project. Of course, a major label release should have a greater chance of success for all those same reasons. But, it's undeniable that music you and I would never buy, would never even think of buying, is what everyone else is buying. Does that make us smarter? Do we know more about music because we think The Plain White T's are brain-dead? Are we cooler? Edgier? Or are we just completely out of touch with whatever everyone else is into?
Look at this weeks Billboard Top 10. Is there any record there you own? Okay, girls own the Winehouse record but the rest of us, is there anything there I could even convince you to buy? T.I.? Let's talk rock. Linkin Park? Nickleback? Bon Jovi? What. The. Fuck.
So where are we left? Going nuts over "huge" bands that 99 percent of the country wouldn't know or wouldn't care about even if they heard them. Tell me Animal Collective is going to move units in Jacksonville? Broken Social Scene selling albums in Topeka? Don't think so. But here in New York, these bands make people's worlds stop on a dime. Just how many of you are buying Arcade Fire and LCD Soundsystem tickets tomorrow at noon? I am. But would someone in Salt Lake City do the same thing for a show that isn't happening until October? Would that show be an event on the same level in Kansas City?
We live in a kooky little bubble with a set of likes and dislikes that sets us diametrically opposed to the rest of the known universe. Now, does that make us smart or really fucking dumb? I couldn't tell you, I'm trying to get tickets to the sold out Tokyo Police Club show in New Jersey. I mean, they're playing with Ra Ra Riot and Vampire Weekend. Does it get any bigger?
Here, not really. Almost everywhere else, more than yes.
1. Every female singer-songwriter is starting to look/sound like Khaela Maricich from The Blow. (Geoff, quiz for you: "Something in the deli aisle makes you ____")
2. Peace hand signs are not infectious to someone not hailing from the following: Seattle, Portland, Japan, 1974.
3. Calvin Johnson may have intimidated a meek girl in order to advance to an Anacortes, WA restroom after a meal.
4. The umbrella was a nifty invention, but people in Seattle insist on getting soaked to the skin in their black hoodies.
5. What The Heck Fest was a little smelly, but really awesome. The vibrational healing tent...fuck yeah!
6. 90% of good-looking guys in Seattle like other men, but the other 10% are totally worth the frustration.
7. Creedence, AC/DC, Betty Davis, and Kenny G saxophone solos are current local hipster delights.
8. I hate Kenny G saxophone solos.
9. Tegan and Sara are really, really cute.
10. If you hook up a Playstation I to an oscilloscope and a monitor, you can visualize music in colors.
Two very special people are turning new ages today. I won't say what they are but I will say that Mina K and MaggieMcquade are two of the spectacular people who make this site fun, functional, and fucking awesome. I won't gush all over them or anyone anymore but Happy Birthday, Ladies. Maggie. You can buy Maggie a drink at many fine downtown establishments. She'll stay out later than you. She'll drink more than you can drink. She'll bring more energy than you have and is probably bullet-proof. She's like an unstoppable, unbreakable glass of gin moving 85 miles per hour down Avenue A. Can you keep up?
Mina? She'll be on her roof, drinking and judging the shit out of you. In a good way. And probably composing a 6-part synth chord to go with the garage-rock song she's writing. Or maybe it's a folk tune. The girl blends more styles than a They Might Be Giants record. She's been in bands and once killed a man just to watch him die. Emotionally speaking. But he still apologized later because it was, after all, 99% his fault.
I suspect this may piss some of you off. In fact, the band I'm about to discuss, by all accounts, absolutely blew away a SXSW showcase sponsored by this very website. A showcase that, without the following band, might even have kind of sucked (The Head Set were stuck in an airport). So, this might even piss off the fine people who pay my exorbitant salary around here.
But.
I can't go to war with White Rabbits. I just don't like this band. They live in my neighborhood (the Wick, neighbor!) and have been sucking up blog posts and press in New York and around the country. The L Magazine named them a 2007 "Band to Watch" and just since the beginning of May, twenty-four separate blog posts have been written about them. That's two a week. That means twice a week for the last two-and-a-half months, someone, somewhere has found this band so compelling that they had to post some mp3s, write a 200 word-blurb, and practice written oral-sex. Worst part is, this is, sadly, another blog post about the White Rabbits.
And then this week they hit Letterman. Yes, David fucking Letterman. On their own this band can't sell out the Mercury Lounge but they're on national television in right-next-to prime time. Check the video here.
Rewind six months. Here's the issue. I read what people write. I listen to what people say. And then I see for myself. Their songs, I thought, well, their songs are okay. They sort of sound like a more melodic version of The Walkmen. God, that comparison must piss them off, I thought. But it still stands. Let's go see the live show. Everyone talks up their live show. Two drummers, I heard. Big sound. Fun attitude. Gosh, this is exciting - let's get on the guest list.
So they're playing after The Jealous Girlfriends at the Mercury a few months back and we go. Turns out they're better than The Jealous Girlfriends. Turns out a cold is better than malignant cancer too. Both bands are just ... boring. Sure, the Rabbits have two drummers but it's hard to figure out why. Did you have two friends who played drums and couldn't decide which one to bring to when you moved to Brooklyn? I could respect that, I guess. The songs are wailing in a way they're not on the album. The lead-singer looks like a small animal and this might just be the most charming part of the whole evening.
But. I can be a real judgmental fuck. It's not fair to anyone. Least of all a potentially awesome band on a bad night. So, when I see they're playing with Vampire Weekend, I think, "I'll give them another shot." This time, they're at The Bowery and I figure this must be a sign they're getting bigger (and hopefully better).
Vampire Weekend is the undercard and absolutely destroys a crowd of Columbia kids who all went to college with the band. This is the definition of a home crowd. The kids are fired up, dancing, shouting, drunk. This should be a slam-dunk for a good headliner. Sure, they're not your fans but they are fans. And there are lots of them and mostly, they want music. So while the White Rabbits are setting up their drum-kits, you feel like this could be big. This is what music is all about - taking fans of other bands and making them fans of your band.
So White Rabbits start to play and it's almost the same set as before. It's not bad but it's not good. It's loud and whine-y. The crowd starts to thin. It's like time-lapse footage of the venue filling up but in reverse. By the middle of their set, I don't want to see this shit anymore. Not only is the music weak, you're looking at the definition of "not electric." This band took a room that was about to burst with energy and killed everyone's buzz faster than you can say, "hey, want to catch the subway." Which is exactly what happened. I'm sure a few White Rabbit-heads stayed until the bitter end but I can tell you, I would rather wait for the JMZ than watch a band clear a room like that.
So, that's Earnest Attempts: 2, White Rabbits: 0. And as I listen to their record as I type this, I have the same feelings I had in the beginning. Decent songs. Could be fun live. Let's give this a shot. But, we've been down that road twice. Small venue, bigger venue. Weekday, weekend. Just when does this band get awesome? Maybe never. Maybe you just need to see them on national television or on the scene at their 6-man apartment where they live like family. Maybe then.
I think the only thing I've heard about to for two days is how Michael Vick likes to fight dogs. Now there are a bunch of problems with this. 1) You can't really describe a tense situation as being "in a dog-fight." Just seems inappropriate now. 2) Michael Vick apparently hosed a dog down with water and then electrocuted it. If he put half this much work into being a quarterback, he probably have completed more than 53% of his passes in 2006. Equation: Fighting Dogs + Smoking Pot - Working at your job + Having a brother who once drew weapons on kids in a McDonald's parking lot = Mike Vick. 3) Who fights dogs? Really? I mean, who fights dogs? I think Michael Vick should have to be put in a dog cage and fight a pack of wild, angry dogs. You think that shit is funny now? Let's see those scrambling skills, Mike. In: Dogs killing Michael Vick. Out: Mercy.
More importantly, there's a good new band out with a terrible, terrible name. Throw Me The Statuehas his debut record, Moonbeams out on Baskerville Records. You can pick it up here. There are elements of Neutral Milk Hotel (fuzzed out guitars), Beirut (it's a one man gig), The Shins (off-beat pop-sensibilities). I've been seriously enjoying a few songs off the album and thought I would pass them along. It's a good summer record and you probably won't hate it.
"after all, if the evening goes/ there were only there to break my toes." That, my friends, is a great, completely nonsensical lyric.
Headed to Siren tomorrow to miss the White Rabbits (least compelling live show of the 21st century) but hopefully catching We Are Scientists, Voxtrot, and Cursive.
IN: Pocket people (waiting for the Stephen Malkmus platinum edition) OUT: CPR dummies (creepy)
This post was intended for Monday, but I took a little trip out to Seattle, and I finally found internet.
I came across some free tickets to see Travis at the Fillmore in NYC on Sunday night and couldn't refuse them. After all, it's only been about ten years since I was a superfan. I remember it like it was last month - calling the Philly radio station and winning one of a few seats at a 7am in-studio performance. Sneaking out of the sequestered guest area and hanging out with Frannie and Dougie. Not understanding much of the conversation due to their thick Scottish dialect. Swooning when Frannie gingerly poked me in the shoulder at my mention of both of our "Baby One More Time" cover attempts.
After the superfan in-studio, the band graciously got me into a show in Chicago...my first live Travis concert. To my chagrin, the dense quantities of drunk Brits yelling along with the lyrics prevented me from hearing the band much at all. And last Sunday night began quite the same, standing at the back of the Fillmore with a belligerently drunk soccer hoolie screaming something laced with the word "bloody." But once we moved forward towards a more civilised (and attractive) group of audience members, the experience got far better.
I realize I am not hitting any sort of mark here with my commentary. Perhaps it is the fact that my first night in Seattle was spent in a restaurant with beer, on a park bench with whiskey and Diet Coke Plus, and in a flat with more whiskey, now sans Diet Coke Plus. Waking up to construction noise at 7am in bed next to two equally-hungover people. No no, no no...where is *your* mind?
I digress. Travis is aging, and they work hard to maintain the expected levels of charisma from a decade ago. Frannie's hair is getting a bit long for his pattern, but he remains one of the most adorable Scotsmen that ever was. The highlight of the show was when The Daily Show's Demetri Martin did a live performance bit for the band onstage. It's exactly like in this video (complete with cookie stunt):
Peoples, tonight at Luna Lounge it was like Sweden abandoned it's traditional neutrality and invaded the fuck out of New York. For the second night in a row, The Shout Out Louds jangled through a set of pleasant, clean, and at times, uplifting rock music. Good set - not great. Decent crowd but nothing special (word is: last night's show was more of a burner). And Luna Lounge has about as much personality as box of Wheat Thins. The stage is too broad and the room too vaulted. It's like the Boy Scout Assembly Hall went out of business and 50,000k worth of covered, colored lamps and tapestries were shotgunned onto the walls. Is this a rock venue? I. Am. Not. Sure.
Big thanks to Elizabeth ( www.elizabethweinberg.com) who took the photos tonight (including the one above) and was also on time while I was horrifically late. Look for the full review and photo slideshow later this week on the main page. I mean, it's already written in my head but if you try to go in and get it, I will mind-slap you in the face. Get up to get down, Brooklyn.
Well, kids we just got through a massive spat of record releases (Interpol, Spoon, Smashing Pumpkins, They Might Be Giants) but that just means we're hot on the heels of the next series of leaks and single downloads. Editors are set to release their sophomore album which is as massive and occasionally epic as you might expect. And Stars had their record, In Our Bedroom After The War leak all over the place last week, a full three months before it's September 25th release date. The album is smaller than you might think in places but still has a flair for the dramatic. The completely overly dramatic.
Bigger than Stars, Editors, and maybe even Interpol, we've got the new Rilo Kiley album, Under The Blacklight set for release on the 21st of August. This is the record that is supposed to continue Jenny Lewis' (etc.) vault into the indie-rock stratosphere. But, the first single off the album, "The Moneymaker" is just ... not great. It opens with some Modest Mouse-y guitar work and slides itself into a stomping chorus that could very easily be a rip off of the Yeah Yeah Yeah's "Gold Lion." In fact, if I were Karen O, I might dump a beer on Jenny Lewis next time I see her.
First, let me say that the overly sentimental, cloying little post that came before this one was not exactly thought out. It was the first (and probably not the last) time I tried to write a post before passing/blacking out - actually, maybe I was writing to keep from passing/blacking out. You know when drunk people say awful things like, "hey man ... you're just great. I fuckin' love you, dude!" It was like that. Either way, it's spelled right and, in it's own way, a beautiful ode to closing down bars on work nights. Big ups to our (this is for you Mina and Xtina) fucking DOGS from Liam and Me. Jon and Matt pretty much helped us drink midtown out of beer. Why were we in midtown? Well, that's pretty indefensible isn't it?
Friday wasn't a total loss in the way that recovering from a horrible auto accident isn't a total loss. More movies and ice cream and feeling sorry for my dry brain and inability to complete simple tasks (getting a glass of water at 10am on Friday took about 25 minutes). By the time my roommates were getting home from their jobs, I was starting to feel better (although this is the same as saying, "Well, Hartford is better than New London). Then we pumped up an open bar downtown before committing more midtown suicide at a bar (gulag) called Mantra. The crowd was gelled and collars were popping and the girls left their self-respect back in 7th grade. If you want to see the ghost of Margaret Sanger throw up, take her to see the chicks at Mantra. So, of course some of us made out with them. I'll never tell who.
So tonight we're going to see the Mets and then keeping it downtown. If we're in midtown, how are we going to meet interesting, liberal art school graduates that we can take home to our mothers? ("Susan went to Bard and she majored in Sustainable Farming. Isn't that fucking incredible?")
And apropos of our corporate surroundings last night, here's a band that doesn't have a label but could very easily be the next thing dominating your radio/television/iPhone. I don't care if you're a hipster hater - production shined, piano-pop rock will always have a place in our society. Hate it or love it. MP3: Meese :: The Start of It
In case you've been living under a rock, the new Harry Potter movie drops today. I would describe myself as a fan of the franchise but by the time the movies come out I can't remember what the book was about in the first place. Then, I go to the theater and am reminded of the book's plot but only in vaguest memories. It's like trying to remember how you got home on a Friday night three years ago. Cab? Subway? On foot? Did even make it? It's been to long to recall anything concretely but you might be able to venture a guess. So, The Order of The Phoenix will seem fresh even if it's not. And like your Friday night three years ago, I hear the main character has a weird make-out scene.
In the music world, Britt Daniel and Spoon are playing tonight for free (hard to say if this makes it more or less appealing) at Rockefeller Park. I would imagine the show will start and finish before sundown but that's complete conjecture. Content-wise, I would expect him to play almost the entire new album, roll with "I Turn My Camera On" second to last and close with "The Way We Get By." Prove me wrong, Britt.
Also, you can head over to the Mixtape Maestro (talking a tough name) and listen to Avril Lavigne covering Coldplay. What could piss indie-kids off more than she-who-doesn't-like-your-girlfriend singing songs by he-who-can't-stop-writing-about-his-girlfriend? Maybe this shit will fix you.
As of a few weeks ago I don't have a real job. Now, this isn't quite the financial disaster you might think. After busting out 9 months of teaching 4th, 5th and 6th graders, I can now coast on the summer teacher's salary - which like the Dire Straits said is "money for nothing." All of this has led me to being the biggest waste of space in human history.
Already today I've:
1) Watched Jodi Foster scream through Flightplan on HBO. "WHERE'S JULIA??? WHERE'S JULIA!?!?!?" I don't know. Why don't you wait and find out with the rest of us? If she was dead I don't think this would have turned into a full movie.
2) Eaten ice cream out of the container with Honey Bunches of Oats on top.
3) Watched Jodi Foster close UPenn's 2006 commencement with this (youtube).
4) Listened to the (relatively) new Limbeck album. It sort of sounds like if The Format went on tour and were only allowed to play Old 97s songs. A less morose, poppy-er verison of Rhett Miller - let's roll with that. Check them out here and here. And head over here to take a listen to one of their songs (courtesy of Dog House Records).
Here are a few photos (which I shot at the event yesterday) and a video (courtesy of MyTubeNYC) documenting 77 BOADRUM, the sound experience of a lifetime. At top is Brian Chippendale of Lightning Bolt, and the third photo down is my personal favorite, Alianna K of We Ragazzi.
Worth the 1.5-hour wait to re-enter the grounds after soundcheck. (Actually, I didn't have to wait because I had a press pass, but I stayed with my friends on the line.) The press credentials got me into the VIP area, where I was surrounded by drummers I couldn't recognize. So I stuffed some free Sapporo's and Sparks into my bag and returned to the plebes.
Look for a full live review with slideshow on Loose by the middle of next week.
Being at work today is indeed a hungover hardship. Yes, there were fireworks festivities on my rooftop last night, which migrated to playing inebriated Twister in my apartment, and ended at a bar when we finished off a rather large supply of drinks. By some miracle, I woke early to make an appearance a 9am meeting. Holidays like this should be banned from Wednesdays, in accordance with Steph's decree.
Oh, and...as Xtina lay serenely on my couch at the end of the night, she suddenly fell to the floor on her ass so hard that it was still killing this morning. Yes, yes. Xtina has several drunken antics of note, my favorite being her elevated air guitar skills.
"Loose crew" is a fine term, but mind you Loose staff comprised no more than 20% of attendees. Members of Brooklyn bands Ford and Fitzroy and The Press also came by to hang out. But back to the "Loose crew," I have to say that we are quite a feisty and attractive bunch. Rawr. Should we run a date auction on the site?
How are people letting Rihanna get away with rhyming "ever" with "other" and then with "umbrella?" A lot of iffy shit happens in hip-hop but you can only bend the English language so far before it just fucking breaks. I. Digress.
The night was fueled with tall boys, a couple cases of Coors light (a completely serviceable drink for a holiday that celebrates America kicking ass and taking names). Eventually, people went to a bar and I went home to nurse a sore throat and feel sorry for myself. I'm counting the trip to Mina's as a success because I didn't drink tequila straight from the bottle and didn't pass out on the JMZ. Massive upgrade.
Most of you are probably fighting through the toughest work day of the year (except the day after Halloween where I managed to teach 4th graders for 8 hours while smelling like Sparks, make-outs and cigarettes). So, keep it real and big thanks to Mina for hosting all our sorry asses last night. My roof looks at Manhattan too but the only fireworks in my neighborhood are Dominican-sponsored gunfire.
Scott over at Stereogum featured the first song off Montreal's chamber-pop powerhouse Stars' new album. It doesn't come out until October so get ready to feel like you're head of the wave. As a song, it's pretty intense (read: potentially repetitive) and elaborates easily on the band's fun, boy-girl, "my life is a crushing bowl of sadness," "I love you but I've chosen indie-music" style. And, yeah, I'm still in love with Amy Milan.
As fans of music and all things culturally relevant, you should care about this event. Even though it's going to disgust Mina and Xtina, you should also care about this event because it features Liam and Me - arguably my favorite band of the last eight months.
What it is: A night of music, fashion designer's collections, and even some auditions for those of you who can't wait until the next American Idol to get your break.
SPECIAL GUEST DESIGNER: Zulema Griffin, from Project Runway Season 2
When is it: July 12, 2007 (8pm - 1am)
Where: The Marriott Marquis, Times Square
How do I get in: Go here and type "Verve" into the search field.
LooseRecord will be there as part of a herd of press that includes Vogue UK, Gawker, and YRB Magazine. So, get right, get tickets and we'll see you there.
IN: The Care Bear Stare
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