Live Review: Blonde Redhead at Terminal 5 [1.19.08]

My first impression of Terminal 5 – the three packed levels rendering the stage visible for just moments through the moving gaps between bobbing heads, the PA system so muddy the cabinets sounding submerged in water – did not provide high hopes for the upcoming performance. Strangely, this ended up being possibly the most ideal venue for a Blonde Redhead show, a band that I for one have only been able to understand in glimpses.

With their lyrical fragments, baroque-meets-dance sensibilities, and hazy washes of reverb-laden guitar, they don't make things very direct in the typical songwriting sense. The struggle to permeate the murkiness of their songs could be why people often connect so deeply to their music, and Terminal 5's poor audio only heightened that. The group sounded as though playing from the bottom of a well. Possibly a well on the early 19th century countryside amidst galloping horses.

The low visibility aided the character of the performance as well; Kazu would for a moment look like a gracefully possessed witch, then become obscured. Brief crowd banter was nearly inaudible. The majority of 23's songs were played without pause, their cyclical chord progressions melding together and weaving through subtly juxtaposed time signatures, all through a cloud of some distant yet intense, singular emotion. It was a performance that proved to be as enigmatic if not moreso than their albums, truly the best way for them to be heard.

[photo courtesy of Blonde Redhead's official site]

Live Review: Kanye West, A-Trak, Cool Kids and Kid Sister at the American Natural History Museum [1.25.08]

As if life in New York City wasn’t surreal enough.

The crowd tonight is spilling out the doors of the American Museum of Natural History, to learn about a different kind of science. 80’s Hip-Hop revivalists The Cool Kids along with A-Trak and girlfriend/emcee Kid Sister are set to host a party at the Rose Center for Earth and Space. The center, full of hovering planets and enough glowing exhibits on the universe to make anyone feel small, is thinly populated as The Cool Kids’ DJ spins an early set. Though, by the time Chuck Inglish and Mikey Rocks come onto the stage, the masses are too thick to move through. The Cool Kids strike the right chord, and the crowd moves from what could have been simply museum-goers with beers into an incredibly energetic, off-the-wall crowd. The front row, knowing all of the words to seemingly every song, appears to make everyone behind them comfortable with dancing to an incredibly executed set.





When Kid Sister moves to the stage, the women in the audience go absolutely wild. Reaching down into masses of hands, Kid Sister builds off the energy of the audience and seems to be having more fun than the entire crowd combined. Her timing and charisma are impeccable; albeit relatively new to the scene, she shows an incredible comfort and ease throughout her performance, as if she was simply singing along and dancing wildly to her favorite songs.



Suddenly and shockingly, Kanye West runs from some planet onto the stage, causing an almost indescribable noise to rise from the crowd, overpowering even the music itself. The audience pushes forward falling onto the stage, as Kanye and Kid Sister perform together, Kid Sister eventually falling back with A-Trak to let Kanye execute his fantastic, yet brief, destruction of the stage.



He leaves as abruptly as he arrived, disappearing behind another obscure exhibit; yet, the energy sparked by his performance remains as A-Trak spins for the remainder of the night, perfectly closing an extraordinary set of performances. The Rose Center is immeasurably alive, as people remain dancing up the spiral ramp to the projection of the Big Bang, amongst the tiny replicas of our solar system, and throughout the creation of the universe. A show of otherworldly proportions has reached a gradual and satisfying finish.





Photos and write-up by Elise Largesse for Loose Record
Complete set of photos on Flickr

Live Review: Holy Fuck at 9:30 Club [1.27.08]

Cables. So many cables. Cables to the left, cables to the right. I’m not sure what Holy Fuck does with all those cables, but holy fuck does it sound good (sorry, I just couldn’t help myself).

It begins when the foursome unassumingly take the stage, half the band taking their places behind two large workstations; keyboards, turntables, all those cables, pedals, and Casios galore, the others going to the drum kit and the bass. There is an air of expectancy, as if everyone has inhaled at the same time, and is waiting for something to happen. And happen it does.
The Holy Fuck sound transfers from headphones to stage incredibly well. It’s interesting being able to watch the chaos going on, instead of just listening to it. Bathed in eerie purple and green lights, the quartet pound away, charting a course to oblivion. As the set wears on, the knob twiddling gets more frantic, and the set teeters on the blissful brink of controlled collapse. It feels like watching the band practice, because they seem blithely oblivious to the hundreds of people observing their every move, their every note. Holy Fuck is intense, dark, riotous, and the band members manage to give off the impression that they both know exactly what they’re doing yet are flying perilously by the seats of their pants. And somehow, it works for them.

The Canuck foursome endeared themselves further after a request came from the crowd for “Freebird.” About to launch into a song that was most certainly not the Skynyrd classic, the band wryly announced, “This one’s called ‘Freebird.’” Banter-wise, they just need to enunciate a little. Holy Fuck mumbles a lot.

Whoever made the call to have Holy Fuck open for the Super Furry Animals knew what they were doing. This is a band that is sonically fairly different from the Furries, but fundamentally they are in synch. It’s all about spontaneity and living in the moment, and both bands do it extraordinarily well.

[Words by Megan Petty]
[Photos by Laura O'Neill]

Live Review: Get Him Eat Him at Southpaw [1.26.08]

Get Him Eat Him hits Southpaw's elevated stage at 12:12 a.m. Check that, the band begins its set at 12:12. The quintet has been awkwardly soundchecking since 11:57 p.m. without the aid of the closed curtain used by Chicago stoner rock openers Mahjongg. Nothing destroys confidence in a band faster than watching them soundcheck. It shatters the already tenuous illusion that said band is more than the sum of its parts. Get Him Eat Him is just five dudes playing their respective instruments. The parts play together, but they don't make each other better. There will be no magic tonight.




By 12:12 when lead singer Matt LeMay kicks off the set with a quick "We're Get Him Eat Him from Providence, Rhode Island," and the band launches into its first song, the crowd has thinned out. The beautiful girls and the boys who want to love them have retired to Mahjongg's backstage room where, I gather by the frequency with which one of them exits the door, walks through the crowd and to the bar to get another drink, only to return backstage, the real party is taking place. This is not a great night for our would-be heroes from PVD.



The band soldiers on, playing a mix of poppy three-minute songs from its latest, Arms Down, with poppy three-minute songs from past albums. "Mumble Mumble", from Geography Clones, makes an appearance. So does the band's "second newest song," which sounds a great deal like its other songs. There are moments of rockstar-ness -- LeMay's constipated Mick Jagger legs rule the night -- but still, something is missing. The diminutive Joe Posner, who I hoped would be the star, based on his pre-show jumping jacks routine and remarkable resemblance to Jason Schwartzman's character in Hotel Chevalier, isn't. No one is. Except Mahjongg. At least I think they are. Their party is hidden behind a curtain.




[Photos by Bryan Bruchman]

Live Review: Dan Deacon at The El Rey [01.15.08]

After LA locals Health and Abe Vigoda finished their opening sets, it was time for Ultimate Reality. The short film is a psychedelic mashup of Arnold Schwarzenegger's lengthy film career, backed by two live drummers and some seriously anthemic Dan Deacon madness. The film weaves a loose hallucinogenic narrative that touches on most of Arnold's major films with a dash of Bill and Ted thrown in for good measure. I don't think I'd ever expected to see kids at a concert venue cheering for clips of Twins, but that's what happened. I can imagine that there's probably some extra weight to seeing Ultimate Reality in California, as we're subjected to seeing the aging muscle mahn far more than the rest of the country.

The film ramps up appropriately, matching the pace with the two kinetic drummers and the Pong-on-acid arpeggios. The momentum is only broken by the occasional interruption of a hooded figure who comes out on stage to read the surreal chapter breaks, which do their best to explain the “plot” (never have quotes felt so appropriate). For much of the film, its energy infected the crowd, with pockets of folks just going nuts for an unlit stage and the work of a digital projector. By the end, it grew to be a tough pill to swallow. I kinda felt some envy for the dudes at the center of the pit smoking smuggled weed because it probably would have considerably stretched my attention span for the loud color swirl. It's a unique trip, though and at $10 bucks a DVD from the merch table, it's probably something that has a shot at becoming The Wall for the Casiotone set.

There were a handful of technical glitches that caused Dan Deacon's set to start late, in addition to the epic feat of just setting up all his gear at the center of the El Rey's sizable Art Deco ballroom. He was chatty through the whole affair, engaging everyone just to keep their interest going. Once everything was up and running, he had every light in the club turned off, leaving his iconic Glowing Green Skull and a column of white light from his table of gear.

For the uninitiated, Dan Deacon's performances are always interesting. By doing his set from the belly of the beast, he rips down the separation between performer and audience. He exudes a desire for every single person in the audience to loose their shit and have the most fun possible, which given the way crowds behave these days is a good thing. When he expresses that same statement from from the center of the crowd, it feels that much more genuine than a performer saying the same thing from wayyy up on a stage.

Dan Deacon is like an animated gif: cheesy yet charming and a bit repetitive. His blippy, cartoon infected electro is akin to the looping, glittering accessories from many personal web pages 10 years ago. Going to see him live is really not unlike listening to one of his albums really really loud, until you jump in with the crowd. His shows are frenetic, balls of vocoder chaos, best experienced from in the center of the chaos. If you don't step into the pool, you're probably just going to hear the music and see the Glowing Green Skull bouncing like a drunken lighthouse off-shore. It's also best if you're willing to just go nuts and be as sassy as Mr. Deacon encourages. Now, I haven't really heard that term tossed around much since my dog of the same name died in '89 followed by the teen magazine's demise in '96, but it's almost a mantra for Dan Deacon. He tossed it out a few times, especially during some of the more crowd intensive numbers. There's an amazing amount of good energy and charisma being exuded by the man; he really really wants you to have an amazing time.

As much as I can appreciate the vibe The Deac brings, I'm honestly 'that guy' who stands at the fringe and really hates to dance. I genuinely love him and his music, but the live experience isn't really tailored for me.

But, I'm just a grumpy bastard...don't let my lack of dancing prevent you from hitting up the Ultimate Reality tour and enjoying the joyful chaos to the fullest.

In and Out: A Song to Save Your Weekend

There are no kids in Vancouver band No Kids, just three grownups - multi-instrumentalists Julia Chirka, Justin Kellam, and singer/songwriter Nick Krgovich. (You may remember Krgovich from his Worried Noodles collaboration with Mt. Eerie's Phil Elvrum.)

I am majorly digging their brand of awkward indie R n' B and can't wait for their forthcoming album, "Come Into My House" (out February 19th via Tomlab), to become the soundtrack to my spring.

Whereas R. Kelly jams seem made for blasting out the windows of your Escalade, the layered vocals of Krgovich's nasal falsetto are perfect for bumping on some tinny speakers as you cruise past your secret crush's house on your fixed gear.

Check out the No Kids' single "For Halloween", which contains the priceless lyric, "I know you're not the only one for me/but you make that awfully hard to see/so I stay in making scrapbooks and going stir crazy". We've all been there, haven't we?

Live Review: Hot Hot Heat at Terminal 5 [01.17.08]

Second in the lineup on the evening's triple bill, Hot Hot Heat opened in support of Editors at Terminal 5. The B.C indie rock quartet brought a highly energetic and playful set that pulled evenly from the band's past three full-length releases. Known for his animated performances and gorgeous tawny curls, frontman Steve Bays brought crates of lock shaking head whips and rocked out skinny hipster stances to the 3000+ crowd. Bays and guitarist Luke Paquin turned up the proverbial heat for groups final crowd pleasers "Good Night Good Night" and "Talk To Me Dance With Me."

Set List:

Dirty Mouth
Harmonicas and Tambourines
No Not Now
Bandages
5 Times Out of 100
Let Me In!!
Middle of Nowhere
My Best Friend
Good Night Good Night
Talk To Me Dance With Me

Click here for the full photo gallery.





Photos and write-up by Chris Owyoung for Loose Record

Live Review: Au Revoir Simone at Bowery Ballroom [1.18.08]

Before I knew anything about Au Revoir Simone, a friend described them as “pretty bitches with keyboards.” This description, though succinct, is more encompassing than one might think. The girls of ARS, Erika Forster, Annie Hart and Heather D’Angelo, are certainly pretty, with their identically long, pin-straight hair that falls effortlessly over their three vintage keyboards, and their gamine, patterned-stocking-clad legs poised at the pedals underneath. Their prettiness is, of course, the only thing that makes them bitches, and the fact that they are an all keyboard band is what distinguishes their sound from the sea of cutesy electro-indie-pop. But despite the girlishness of their image, which is portrayed, for example, by a music video depicting them melancholically baking cookies and then having a dance party, they are by no means worth writing off as superficial confections themselves. Their three-tiered melodies are skillfully constructed; these girls are serious about their keyboards, and it shows.


After waiting until almost midnight for them to go on at Bowery Ballroom on Friday, and after a particularly long and harrowing week, I wondered if my mood would color my experience too much to write an objective review. But when they finally opened with the dancey, ironically angsty “Sad Song,” I was reluctantly charmed. Their aesthetic had caused me to expect the sort of removed aloofness typical of whispery indie-pop girls, but the Brooklyn natives were humbled and thrilled to be playing at Bowery, especially Hart, who blurted out, “Honestly I can’t believe that I’m here right now. I’ve seen some of my favorite concerts here.” Even during an awkward pause when Forster fumbled with her misbehaving keyboard, Hart admitted that her “cheeks hurt from smiling” and asked if anyone brought their own tambourine. For a brief, bashful moment, I’d almost wished I had.


While Hart was perhaps the most enthusiastic, dancing and even jumping around without missing a note, all three girls seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves, as they played what they announced to be “the dance portion” of their set, which was never really followed by a “non-dance” portion. Almost their entire repertoire is mildly dancey, mildly poignant, never quite resigning to either extreme. Even ballads like “Stay Golden” had some people bopping.

Their entire set, incidentally, was only about forty-five minutes long, to the chagrin of an audience that had been waiting patiently since the doors opened at 8:30. After a short period of applause they returned and launched into a sugary cover of “Oh, You Pretty Things”, and then invited opener April March and a slew of backstage friends to join them in the finale-appropriate “The Lucky One”, a song that ends in a Polyphonic Spree-esque, choral love fest, repeatedly chanting “Let the sunshine in.” Watching ARS singing along with their beaming, shaggy-haired entourage, I half expected the performance to morph into a revival of Hair.

I guessed that the brevity of their set had to do with their late beginning, but I found myself wondering if ARS could sustain a longer set. Throughout the show, the audience was packed, but distracted, bustling around the bar, taking breaks to lounge downstairs, chatting even during the quieter songs. While their all-keyboard concept creates a sound that takes girly charms and synths and makes it three times as layered and enveloping, it’s possible that their body of work lacks the variation to make for a full-length show that is dynamic and exciting throughout. And although their performance had been engaging enough to pull me out of my sleepy, end-of-the-week funk, perhaps their music is just a little too Sunday morning for a Friday night.



[Photos by Sean O'Kane]

Live Review: Rings at Glasslands [1.20.08]

There are two kinds (well, at least two kinds) of abstraction: the kind that’s about attempting (and necessarily, beautifully failing) to represent an impossible ideal and the kind that’s about forcing you to interact with the strange "thingy-ness" of a thing. In visual art, we might say Mondrian is the former and Pollack is the latter; in music, we might say that Rings is the former and is the latter. On Sunday night at Brooklyn's Glasslands, Rings treated us to the good old abstract power of repetition and simplicity. Their delay-washed vocals, pounded drums, scraped guitar figures, and rolling keyboard lines pointed toward some Platonic pop heaven while at the same time remaining earthly and unstudied.

Rings are a New York trio born of the ashes of a band called First Nation. On stage there are two keyboards, a “drum kit,” two guitars, and some delay pedals for the vocals (including this really neat looking old-school one that seemed like it was an answering machine from the 80’s). The three women of the band each play nearly all of these instruments at one time or another, but generally Abby Portner plays drums and drums-on-keys, Nina Mehta plays guitar, and Kate Rosko plays keyboard. The songs they make are plain but complex, drony but melodic, fragmented but structured, rhythmic but shambolic: in short, they are impossible. Vocal harmonies grow out of primitive beats (hammered without abandon by Portner) and instrumental pulses. Every sound is placed as if provisionally. They enter and leave the structure of the song as if under some strange magnetic push and pull. Mehta’s guitar (sans any effects, sans even a pick in her hand) and Rosko’s keys flurry notes that never quite resolve into a “line;” sometimes Rosko settles down and repeats clean-sounding arpeggios. This is a music of pure potentiality, and it feels unfettered and free. Never will you walk out of a concert feeling more in the mood to go forth and create your own music, to do it yourself. The final song of the evening, the epic “Scape Aside” was my favorite. It was also the brashest song of Rings’ set. There was a real Western grandeur to it. I heard something like a Morricone vibe early on, and then the dry desert wash morphed into a punk rock chant as Mehta and Rosko created a two guitar, three chord rhythmic attack.

Also on the bill this evening was half of Animal Collective in the form of vocalist Avey Tare (big brother to Portner) and guitarist/other-stuff-ist Deakin. This part of the evening was, of course, magical. Literally, magical: I really believe that they have the ability through the manipulation of loops and delay to transform time. Supposedly their set ended, but I’m not so certain…

Words by John Melillo

[Photos courtesy of Myspace]

Live Review: Editors at Terminal 5 [01.17.08]

It was cold and raining and the Terminal 5 box office had no record of my tickets. As I stood on 56th Street, soaked to the bone, I cursed my luck and Editors for bringing the soggy English weather with them.

Were it not for my love of gloomy post-punk-indie and the numerous assurances from friends across the pond that this would be an epic show, I might have packed it in and gone to bed. Instead, I crossed my fingers, bought a new ticket and hoped that Editors would not disappoint.

As it happened, it was my lucky night after all. Following extremely strong opening sets from Louis XIV and Hot Hot Heat, the Birmingham four-piece brought the rock without mercy or fanfare. On stage, Editors were a strange mixture of indie-band appeal and the kind of epic stage presence that immediately reminded me of U2 circa War.



I found the performance surprisingly dynamic considering the rainy day topics of many of the band’s songs. Though Chris Urbanowicz's guitar riffs dazzled throughout the set and Russell Leetch laid down thick bass lines to Ed Lay's feverish hi-hat, Editors' stage presence was dominated by frontman Tom Smith.



Dressed in a dark button-down and jeans, Smith careened across the stage pausing either to play piano or to play on top of it. When at center stage, his frenetic movements only increased. With guitar holstered on the left, Smith threw out one hyper extended hand gesture after another before returning to his signature double-fisted mic grip. The depths of Smith’s baritone channeled Jim Morrison while the higher end of his range evoked a slightly Michael Stipe croon.

Drawing mainly from their 2007 release An End Has A Start, the band had heads nodding and fists in the air from show opener "Bones" to the finale "Fingers In The Factories." Tracks "Blood," "Munich," and "Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors" drew particularly strong responses from the crowd.



Minutes after leaving the pit, I realized that the magic of an Editors show does not reside in some profoundly personal explanation of the their melancholy songs or a slow tear-jerking piano solo, it springs from the band's uncanny ability to transform their gloomy everyman lyrics into a danceable and uplifting adrenaline-infused experience.

Set List:

All Sparks
An End Has A Start
Bullets
Escape The Nest
The Weight Of The World
Lights
Blood
When Anger Shows
You Are Fading
The Racing Rats
Munich
Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors
Fingers In The Factories











Photography and Review by Chris Owyoung for Loose Record.

Live Review: Kevin Devine at Bowery Ballroom [1/19/08]

“This is like graduation” admitted a bashful Kevin Devine in front of a sold out Bowery Ballroom crowd last night.

The Brooklyn crooner/songwriter tried to keep the musings to a minimum in between songs during a supercharged late-night two-hour set that showed his full range from eloquently vivid lyrics (the kind Connor Oberst wishes he could write) to smash-mouth political rock.

Opening the night was Brian Bonz and the Dot Hongs, featuring Bonz and Mike Strandberg, who both would appear later in the night as part of Devine's "Goddamn Band". Bonz fused the bravado of synth-bands like the Anniversary with some funk grooves, and the aesthetics of Broken Social Scene (fitting – they finished the set with a BSS cover).

Demander then physically emptied the stage, showing only three members, but proceeded to fill it with a raucous aural assault something the likes of The White Stripes meets the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

The Kevin Devine-picked The Jealous Girlfriends followed, focusing their energy on passionate vocals and performance rather than stage movement; they provided a change from the first two that led perfectly into Devine’s set.

Devine took the stage around 11 p.m., proclaiming to the crowd “Yo, I’m drunk,” and then opening solo-acoustic before welcoming the constantly “evolving” Goddamn Band onstage.

He spoke briefly about how headlining a show at Bowery was always a dream. It was a sight to see Devine so overwhelmed by the event, and his pride, excitement, and pure joy shone through.

Featuring many older songs, Devine also found time for new ones like "Murphy's Song," and a blistering untitled song. His musical range of wondrous acoustic ballads and all-out band jams is also reflected in his lyrics, which range from hyper-political to dangerously personal, and some that touch on both (set and encore-capper “Ballgame”).

Congratulations, Kevin.

Devine & the Goddamn Band

The Jealous Girlfriends' Holly Miranda

Demander

Opener Brian Bonz

Photos & Review by Sean O'Kane

Loose Contest - Win Tickets to One Step Beyond featuring The Cool Kids!

The Loose crew knows that all of our readers are cool kids. That's why we figured we'd set one of you up with two tickets to see some more Cool Kids perform alongside Kid Sister and A-Trak at a venue that's pretty, well, cool. That's right, 80's inspired hip-hop under the stars at the American Museum of Natural History's Rose Center for Earth and Space. It will be kind of like that field trip you took back in 9th grade, only with more beer and less of those pesky worksheets.

The setting is perfect for asking yourself all of those pressing questions about our vast universe, but if you're dancing too hard to ponder, that's okay too.

To enter, just email your full name and daytime phone number to contests@looserecord.com with the subject title One Step Beyond by 12 noon on Wednesday, January 23rd. (Only cool kids that are 21+ please.) Good Luck!

Don't want to risk it? Buy your tickets in advance.

New We Are Scientists Single, "After Hours"

Brooklyn-favorites and Virgin Records bad boys, We Are Scientists have their new single, "After Hours" up on the myspace. It's still sitting somewhere under 3,000 plays, so it can't have been up very long. It's a little more "arena rock" than their previous record but adding a little Angels and Airwaves never hurt anyone's sales figures. The song is big and bold and closes with a punch that makes you feel like the air got sucked out of the room. Instrumentally, it's a little more interesting and you can catch some strings and even some keys (the opening organ chord is the same as the opening chord in Coldplay's "Fix You" - sorry if that ruins everything) but it's still a Scientists cut - a little punky where it needs to be and a chorus that makes you feel just disenfranchised enough to sing along. The lyrics aren't mind-blowing and, in the refrain, seem designed for Top 40 radio. If you can't get the kids to relate to "one final round, cause time means nothing, say that you'll stay." It's either a super-complicated metaphor exploring notions of beginnings and end. Or. It's a song about drinking your ass off at a bar and not wanting to go home. "Time means nothing." In either case, you'll want to say you heard it first.

myspace.com/wearescientists

Live Review: Thurston Moore Groop at the Knitting Factory [1.8.08]

It's hard to believe that Thurston Moore is nearly 50.

That's a number that just doesn't seem possible. In high school, when I was just being exposed to real music, Sonic Youth seemed like they had been around forever, and their section in any record store was intimidating. Where would you even start? I didn't even know where the beginning was. I think with Sonic Youth or any of their side projects, it's just taking that first step that's important. There's a lot going on here, you know they are on the "top guitarists of all time" lists, they recorded some of the top albums of all time, they played CBGB's when it wasn't cool. Thurston Moore is a legend, an icon. I could see it in the people in the crowd, the opening acts were good*, and sure we're all there supporting Ecstatic Peace, a great label, but we're really there to see the beginning of everything after punk. The Thurston Moore Groop came out onstage with Samara Lubelski on violin- I recognized her from playing with MV&EE- but when Thurston finally crossed the stage, people started clapping. They weren't even set up yet. At this point historically, you almost have to take them seriously by default, they can't be written off. If you don't get it by now- it's you.


Just because he primarily recorded with an acoustic guitar for Trees Outside the Academy doesn't mean this was going to be Trees... unplugged. The first song started out with Thurston raising his acoustic guitar up over his head leaning backwards towards the amp coaxing out different layers of feedback. The "groop" was beating on a bass scraping a set of keys over the strings. Samara stayed out in front providing violin backing to every track adding that orchestral sound that took every song into that epic area, singing behind every guitar note. I'm with Lou Barlow in not missing a lot of J. Mascis' shrieking solo noodlings, which continue to feel out of place on the album.


They played nearly all of Trees... on effect heavy acoustic, combining the classic sounding glassy acoustic strings with the rock. On songs like "Silver>Blue" they sounded fuller live, the drums were more urgent, really precise and loud. This wasn't a kinder, gentler, Youth incarnation, it was the experimentalism of Sonic Youth filtered through the acoustic guitar, a new kind of beautiful. Like the song "Fri/End", it starts with howling feedback and then bursts into that skipping, half-talking tune that breaks convention.


Somewhere about halfway through his set Thurston stopped and was kind of posing for a photo with his arm resting on his guitar for someone right in the front, and people just started shouting out questions.

"What about the new album?"
"Which one are you referring to? There's a lot of bands out there."
"Have I ever been to Alaska?"
"No. I'm sure it's beautiful. I saw that Into The Wild movie."


He pulled out his wedding ring saying he couldn't play acoustic guitar with it on for some reason because it hurt his index finger.

"Where's Kim?"
"Well...She's a California girl."

This was getting weird. Why do people want to be his best friend and try to relate to your life in some personal way? It's maybe a testament to the amount of time most everyone has spent with these recordings and the unrealness of this moment.
The best was this really drunk guy who was just free associating, yelling weird shit as Thurston was talking...really loud as everyone strained to hear the rock god.

"Sean Penn...Born again.... Teenage tits!"

Thurston turned to the band and kind of laughed...."I thought I'd heard it all."





I also wanted to note that the Tall Firs were excellent, their half speed playing was compelling live, and they very much had a Sonic Youth not-trying-too-hard-to-be-great playing which was appropriate. Two guitars, trading vocal duties not straining to prove it. They were like a little brother that's just as good.




*Except MV & EE and the Golden Road:
I was trying to figure out what was happening on stage. You know they had the hippie look, like some kind of 60's jam band, and the songs would go on for what was an agonizing 10 minutes. All of that was happening and that's not what I had a problem with. It's that they did all that without any of the skill. They weren't in tune with each other, or in time with each other. Were they just all high? Were the people enjoying this high? I have never stood there and thought, 'Would it be better to be deaf then have to hear this for the rest of my life?' The answer is yes. It was just so irritating that there wasn't a melody to be found anywhere. The worst.

[Photos by Lori Baily]

Preview: I Love You Airlines @ Studio B [1.12.08]

I Love You Airlines will be kicking down the doors and shaking the foundation of Greenpoint's Studio B this Saturday night. It's a fairly high-concept show bridging the gap between DJs spinning records and bands torching your ears. Or in this case one band, (I Love You Airlines) and a bunch of DJs (Verboten w/ Radeoclit and VNDLSM, Alexander Technique).

I Love You Airlines (ILYA) is the only live band of this bunch of performers and are not to be missed. This will be their first performance since they leveled The House of Yes Holiday Throwdown where they closed a night that featured fire-eating, sword swallowing, and (you really can't make this up) a guy stapling 20-dollar bills to his face. Any band who can hang and bang with people juggling flaming torches, surviving surging electric current, and taking a sledgehammer to the stomach is worth everyone's time.

I Love You Airlines play a brand of post-punk that can peel your eyelids back and force your feet to move like you've got a hive of angry bees in your pants. Sounding a little like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and a little like what would happen if a speeding 18-wheeler, driven by (a more fun) Chrissy Hynde crashed into the Ramones entire discography, ILYA plays one of the best live shows in New York. They've got two EPs you can pick up after their set, or, as always, bump the myspace in your office/dorm room/life until your friends ask you "who the fuck is that?" If this show and this band doesn't get you up to get down, I will personally refund your concert money and time spent on the L-Train. All refunds will sent via PayPal to your face via my fist.

Studio B (259 Banker St. Brooklyn, NY)
Saturday January 12, 2008
10PM
I Love You Airlines

Live Photos: Bear Hands @ Cake Shop [1/4/08]

Bear Hands played Cake Shop with their gloves off. Tag team support was provided by J.A.C.K., Bottle Up and Go, and She Keeps Bees.

J.A.C.K.

Bear Hands

[Photos by Lori Baily]

Live Review: Dresden Dolls at The Grand Ballroom [12.31.07]

Blocks away, a million people have been standing in the freezing cold all day, waiting for Dick Clark to utter the word "one." Inside Manhattan Center's Grand Ballroom, a few thousand await a comparatively intimate and decidedly different experience. It's New Year's Eve, 2008 and the Dresden Dolls are playing a sold-out show. The quasi-cabaret duo has drawn their usual crowd which, much like the group's music, defies singular genre or category. The room is filled with powder-faced twenty somethings dressed in gothic evening attire, club kids in silver body paint, roving bands of over-the-hill lesbians, and otherwise nondescript music-loving New Yorkers.

The Dresden Dolls (Amanda Palmer and Brian Viglione), whose music lies at the confluence of punk, glam, cabaret, and rock describe themselves as "Brechtian Punk Cabaret". The live expression of exactly what Brechtian Punk Cabaret is, should not to be missed. Despite falling ill days earlier, Palmer's vocals proved dramatic and powerful throughout the majority of the band's grueling two hour set. Through alternating swigs of bottled water and Captain Morgan, Palmer sang a no-holds-barred set of scintillating rants and aching confessions. The sentiments of each song were mirrored in her devilish laughter as well as her uncomfortable and often jarring contortions. Drawing from both A Is for Accident and Yes, Virginia..., Palmer's performance swung wildly between states of agony and therapy. Both were equally captivating.



Let's not forget the drummer. Brian Viglione is one of the most dynamic performers I have ever seen. Switching between visceral waves of percussion and puppet-like theatrical expressions that would put Howdy Doody out of a job, Viglione set the bar for musical showmanship and technical endurance. Beginning with a guest performance with Brooklyn openers Luminescent Orchestrii, Viglione performed feverishly to within minutes of the show's 1:30am curfew. From start to finish, his drum lines provided the perfect foundation for Palmer's keyboard while his exaggerated facial expressions and larger than life physicality proved a primary source of charisma for the duo's incredible live show.



Performances of "Coin-Operated Boy" and a cover of Queen's "We Are The Champions" were personal highlights of the night. Even if there is no New Year's Eve countdown, the Dresden Dolls are not to be missed.

Upcoming Shows:

01.03.2008 Montreal, Qu Le National
01.04.2008 Toronto, On The Phoenix Concert Theatre
01.05.2008 Chicago, IL Vic Theatre / The Vic
01.06.2008 St. Louis, MO The Pageant
01.08.2008 Birmingham, AL WorkPlay Theatre
01.10.2008 Tampa, FL Tampa Theatre
01.11.2008 Atlanta, GA Variety Playhouse
01.12.2008 Durham, NC Carolina Theatre
01.13.2008 Norfolk, VA The NorVa











Photography and Review by Chris Owyoung for Loose Record.