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]

Live Photos: Foals at Bowery Ballroom [4.24.08]

Foals played to a sold-out and boisterous crowd last last Thursday night in support of their recently-released album "Antidotes" on Sub Pop.
[Photos by Diana Wong]

Live Review: Hot Chip at Terminal 5 [4.12.08]

Hot Chip took the stage last Friday at Terminal 5, just as the sun was setting on the first true spring day in New York, which caused the whole city to practically explode out of hibernation, embodying every spring cliche possible. All afternoon, people wandered around the city in an idyllic daze, spending hours sipping mimosas at outdoor brunches, unabashedly baring their pasty legs while prancing around in sundresses. I was no exception, and found myself basking lazily in a park with friends in the late afternoon, somehow paralyzed to move myself to an early evening show (doors were at seven; openers Free Blood took the stage at eight, Hot Chip promptly at nine).

We arrived dreamily in the midst of the first few twinkling notes of the well-chosen opener, “Shake a Fist,” and danced our way into a tightly packed but welcoming crowd. We were easily able to work our way close to the stage, and nobody seemed to mind. The care-free vibe was consuming. Twinkling soon gave way to pounding, layered beats that had the whole Terminal throbbing. The much-anticipated “sounds of the studio” breakdown had the whole place in a state of ecstatic dance-crazed insanity. It was literally impossible to stand still.

The thing about a show like this is that it doesn’t give a reviewer much narrative material. There were no peculiarities, no inconsistencies, no surprises. It was exactly what you would expect a sold out Hot Chip show at Terminal 5 to be: a huge dance party of 3,000 hipsters from far and wide—each and every one shaking their ironic booties. What is a reviewer to do besides toss her tiny notebook and join them?

So what is it about a band that can hypnotize a full audience of self-conscious New Yorkers into a state of uninhibited euphoria? Hot Chip has mastered the science of combining hedonistic fun with a touch of bashful sincerity, unlike other electro-rock that is dancey but sterile. The layering of intoxicating dance beats under Alexis Taylor's crooning soprano along with the occasional tinge of R&B and soul, make for dance music that rocks your body--and your heart.

Nevertheless, the success of the show seemed to rely on this formula alone, which, expert as it may be, is already present in the album. As a performance, it didn’t really offer anything new. And although a few twists would have been nice, predictability isn’t the worst thing when it merely fulfills your expectations of a crazy dance party on a heady spring night. Hot Chip proved themselves to be a good time you can rely on.

[Photo courtesy of Myspace]

Live Photos: VHS or BETA at Highline Ballroom [04.08.2008]

Drawing heavily from their most recent album, “Bring on the Comets” (2007), VHS or Beta came to New York with a boatload of dance punk and more than a little “love in [their] pocket.”

Craig Pfunder and the rest of the Louisville crew brought the rock a packed and head-nodding Tuesday night crowd.

Tracks "Burn it All Down," "Fall Down Lightly," and "Night on Fire" received huge applause from the audience.









Photos by Chris Owyoung (www.onelouderphoto.com) for Loose Record.

Live Photos: Tigercity at Highline Ballroom [04.08.2008]

Tigercity are an anomaly in the NYC indie-rock scene. Opening for VHS or Beta at West Chelsea's Highline Ballroom, the Brooklyn quartet has a silky vibe that falls comfortably between the Bee Gees and Barry White.

While much of the band's smooth vibe comes courtesy of bassist Joel Ford, their stage performance is dominated by sonically and visually by frontman Bill Gillim. With a falsetto that at times defied the laws of physics, Gillim left much of the crowd hypnotized.







Photos by Chris Owyoung (www.onelouderphoto.com) for Loose Record.

Live Photos: innerpartysystem at Highline Ballroom [04.08.2008]

Innerpartysystem opened in support of VHS or Beta at Highline Ballroom. The Pennsylvania foursome got the crowd moving early with their set of heavy handed dance rock. Tracks "the way we move" and "don't stop" (which is arguably the most mainstream track of their The Downloaded EP) received strong responses from the crowd.







Photos by Chris Owyoung (www.onelouderphoto.com) for Loose Record.

In and Out: Countdown to Record Store Day!

You only have a few more days to head down to Hallmark and buy your fave independent record store a card or some candy, as Record Store Day is almost upon us. Shops nationwide will be uniting to celebrate the place that music geeks used to congregate in the days before blogs and message boards.

Perhaps Cameron Crowe puts it best: "The record store. Where true fandom begins. It's the soul of discovery, and the place where you can always return for that mighty buzz. The posters. The imports. The magazines. The discerning clerks, paid in vinyl, professors of the groove. Long live that first step inside, when the music envelopes you and you can't help it. You walk up to the counter and ask the question that begins the journey -- "what is that you're playing?" Long live the record store, and the guys and girls who turn the key, and unlock those dreams, every day."

In celebration of this new holiday, record stores across the country will be planning special events. At 5:00 PM, New York's own Other Music will be hosting Interpol drummer Sam Fogarino for a DJ set. Should be...kind of weird?

But hey, might as well go out and show your local shop some love, and by love I mean go buy the new Breeders album. Or you know, just give your favorite grumpy clerk a hug.

No Kids (with Dirty Projectors) @ Music Hall of Williamsburg [4.9.08]

Whereas Brooklyn hometown hipsters the Dirty Projectors are like the cool kids you remember from high school, cutting class and smoking in the courtyard, Vancouver trio No Kids would probably be holed up in a classroom at a meeting of the French club. And while I cannot say for sure, I imagine that if they were to somehow find themselves together in a prototypical John Hughes high school situation, Dave Longstreth, the frontman of the Dirty Projectors, just may have been tempted to trip No Kids’ singer Nick Krgovich in the hallway. Therefore the pairing of the two bands at the Music Hall of Williamsburg proved to be an interesting dichotomy.

After a polite soundcheck, No Kids seem almost reluctant to interrupt the audience chatter with their set. But this does not discount their fantastic R n’ B laced pop songs – within the first few moments of their opening number “For Halloween,” I remember why those kids in French club always seemed like they might secretly be pretty hip behind their textbooks.

Though a friend scoffed when I described their songs as wonderfully dorky R. Kelly inspired slow jams, Krgovichs rendition of “Bluster In the Air” cemented my thesis, with Krgovich belting out the decidedly unsmooth lyrics, “I can feel a bluster in the air/Baby take me home/You know I don’t like it out here when it’s like this, No/Well if you want to go/I won’t let nothing hold me,” turning the word “go” into a multi-syllable croon.

Krgovich’s timid intro to “The Beaches All Closed” (“I said this was our last song right?”) gave no indication of the power of this absolute jam (yes, I said jam) that encouraged a large group of men in 9-to-5 button down shirts to dance up a storm. Although the jittery drums and soulful chorus got us moving, this song is begging to be remixed into something even more dancefloor-ready. Are you listening Cousin Cole?

Sure enough, after No Kids set, I overhear a woman in the bathroom offer the obligitory Talking Heads comparison. Of course, I must admit I had been thinking the same thing. Though musically, there is really no overlap between the Talking Heads and No Kids, there is a similar presentation and attitude. (And Krgovich does possess a nerdy chic and lanky frame not unlike a young David Byrne.)

As the night goes on, Dirty Projectors run through their set with a sense of ease that makes the whole concept of stage fright seem foreign. They are showmen (and women) and seem about as confident on stage as anyone can be. Could No Kids benefit from some of their tourmates' stage presence and charisma? Sure. But with music as distinctive as theirs, I’ll be in the crowd. I always did secretly admire those nerds in the French club.


For Comparison:


No Kids' Krgovich


Dirty Projectors' Longstreth


[Black and white photos by Adam Schatz. Press photo by Sarah Cass.]

In and Out: YACHT @Studio B with Parts & Labor

YACHT is sailing back into town this Wednesday April 16th for a show at Studio B. To get on the $7 reduced Finger on the Pulse guest list:

1) Send an email to fotpstudiob@gmail.com
2) Put Yacht in the subject line
3) List the names you want on the list
4) Show up on Wednesday and come blow it out

Live Photos: Gnarls Barkley at Highline Ballroom [4.10.08]

[Photos by Max Flatow]

Unwed Sailor @ The Knitting Factory [4.3.08]

“This song is ten years old,” announced Jonathan Ford, bassist and frontman of instrumental rock band Unwed Sailor. “Is that too old?” No one in the well-behaved crowd at the Knitting Factory uttered an objection. “It is for me,” said Ford. “Just kidding.” And with that, the band struck up “Firecracker,” a dreamy piece from the 1999 EP of the same name.

Unwed Sailor have kept a certain consistency in their music over the years. If you liked them ten years ago, chances are, you like them now. There have been no ill-conceived Ska albums, no forays into pseudo-Springsteen heart-on-sleeve songwriting, no dabbles in African folk music. But consistency does not equal monotony. Unwed Sailor have have spent the past ten or so years since Firecracker expanding their catalogue of delicate, instrumental soundscapes, experimenting with ambient noise (Circles EP) and a story-driven acoustic song cycle (The Marionette and the Music Box) , but always managing to sound fresh and interesting, like a brighter, sunnier journey to Slint’s Spiderland, or perhaps what Explosions in the Sky would sound like if they could distill their drama and impact into a perfect three minute song.

Unwed Sailor’s set at the Knitting Factory was a nice balance between older material and songs from their latest album, Little Wars, perhaps the greatest departure for the band in it’s history. Little Wars is less post rock and more straight up rock with a definite new wave and shoegaze influence, Cure-esque synthesizers and all. The new songs are concise and dynamic, at times, bordering on epic. Even so, new and old songs sat next to one another agreeably, rooted in Ford’s sturdy bass lines and powerful melodies. Though Ford seemed deeply moved by the music, rocking back and forth as he pounded on his bass, I did wish his bandmates put a little more effort into their stage presence. I know it must require a lot of concentration to play those intricate guitar parts, but...does that mean you won't smile just a little when the music is this good?

Unwed Sailor concluded their set with “Ruby’s Wishes,” another track off the near-decade old Firecracker. "Ruby's Wishes" is a beautiful song with a weaving guitar melody that builds up until it breaks away into an uptempo, fist-in-the-air climax. By now, the band have probably played "Ruby's Wishes" too many times to count, but it still sounds exciting, and I can sense the crowd's collective disappointment when it ends; proving that the song and the band have aged gracefully over the years.

Live Photos: Handsome Furs at Bowery Ballroom [4.6.08]

When fans impatient for a new Wolf Parade album came out in droves to the Handsome Furs' Bowery Ballroom set, everyone seemed to get their fix. Despite singer Dan Boeckner clearly having had his, his spastic, jittery movements only detracted slightly from what ended up being a near perfect performance. Possibly even more minimal than their already bare bones album, the duo perfect their sound live; the disortion laden, simplistic riffs matched with maxed out beats of seemingly default drum machine samples are a formula they have tweaked flawless, coming off less like an electro-infused folk band than a punk guitarist fronting a rave. If you catch them on tour, don't be surprised if the Handsome Furs get you to move. Just try not to look as furtive as they do.

Live Review: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks at Music Hall of Williamsburg [04.02.08]

If there exists indie rock royalty, a band that pioneered a movement...a band that is the the very dictionary definition of indie rock for a generation, it would be Pavement. The band who definitively proved that bedroom intimate recordings were important, that the 4-track was an instrument unto itself... and at the center of Pavement was Stephen Malkmus. Even after their hiatus, Malkmus' self titled release was out on Matador within months, he just couldn't stop recording, still making it sound so deceptively easy.


The thing that struck me most, watching him play at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, is that he is hands down an incredible guitarist, not only was he effortlessly delivering the lyrical wandering of the songs, but he's accompanying it with this amazing guitar work. It all makes perfect sense now...of course the melody follows the lyrics, the irregular lines all over the place, kind of sloppily delivered, are just sketches for the vocals. But it's not indifference or just going through the motions, he's making the song his again, pausing just a little too long, keeping the audience and the Jicks on their toes. The Jicks are undoubtedly a supergroup - drummer Janet Weiss from Sleater Kinney, guitar and keyboard player Mike Clark, and bassist Joanna Bolme are all amazing in their own right and they seemed to be right at home enjoying the drawn out jam parts, waiting for Stephen to slump onto his amp as the feedback takes over the sound, watching for the change that doesn't come as they go back again for another measure of solo.


I'm sure I must have seen Pavement at some three day concert, I know they played Lollapalooza at some point, during the salad days of alternative rock's lucrative major label end, but I must not have been paying attention, or was stupidly at one of the the 10 sidestages. My point is I don't have anything before to compare it to. But standing there watching him genuinely enjoy performing, doing a Neil Young impression for the crowd in between tunings...I imagine it was much like this, he is after all a regular guy off in this new direction of Real Emotional Trash with classic rock influenced prog jams. It's a show undeniably run by Steve and he's been let go unchecked off on his own completely.


The critics might have panned Pig Lib but it was great, it had to be...yes it might kind wander too much at times, "1% of 1" could have been 4 minutes shorter, but maybe I should just listen and appreciate every extra minute, after all, I don't want to live in a world of unreleased Malkmus ideas. Much like Ween's epic jam "Woman and Man" from La Cucuracha, maybe it's not meant to be taken so seriously, maybe it's part of a conceptual new direction, trying on the progressive rock jean jacket to see if it still fits. Playing to see if there's any life left in this tired genre, or maybe it's just plain fun to play. But where's the problem? He's got an undeniable presence onstage, he's a natural recreating this stream of consciousness, it sounds better every time and that's how it really shines, it's even easier for him.

Am I just beating a dead Pavement horse? Too wrapped up in the mythology to even objectively examine this performance, or the album? There's just no way that whatever incarnation Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks take that it's going to sound like the strangely familiar '93 vintage indie rock tracks. I guess that's the burden of monumental success... but let's face it we're both older, we've both changed. I don't have the same attention span, and he isn't playing the same no-fi, experimental pop, but I feel lucky still to have witnessed this icon in any form he takes.

[Words by Jason]
[Photos by Mina K]

Live Review: Boredoms at Terminal 5 [03.30.08]

I attended this concert, in part, for my Music of East Asia class (which focuses primarily on Japan). The following is adapted liberally from my essay. I added in footnotes in spirit of an academic paper.

"Boredoms are like a moon on a lake. Only there is no moon and no lake. Only Boredoms." This quote from Yamataka Eye, the fiercely dreadlocked leader of the described Japanese noise collective, has been circulated amongst fans for so long that its origins are unclear, magnifying the enigma of Eye’s words. The history of the band also echoes this mysteriousness, as Boredoms have evolved from their brash “acid-punk” “spastic chaos-rock period” to their more spiritual, trance-inducing sun-worshiping period [1]. This mysteriousness is also, in a sense, fitting, as those who have not experienced the band before may find it hard to situate Boredoms as a Japanese band, as a modern band, as musicians [2].

Boredoms, also consisting of Yoshimi P-We, Yojiro and Muneomi Senju, played in the round in the middle of the audience area, providing an intimate setting in an otherwise cavernous Terminal 5. This set up also allowed startling perspectives for those watching from the balconies; the centrality of the setup could only be fully appreciated from above [3]. From the third floor, I watched intensely as Eye began in darkness, harnessing two lights in his hands. As he brought them together, static, glitches and booming engines sounds blasted through the sound system. It was like looking in on a tribal ritual – indeed, Eye was yelping and screeching like a shaman – fittingly echoing the mystery and spirituality captured in the abovementioned quote. The overture led into an unrelenting chorus of tightly synchronized drumming (three drummers!), Eye’s seven-necked guitar (played percussively!) and Yoshimi’s intermittent keyboard and foot-piano (!). Considering the different sounds (distorted through complex-looking consoles) and thunderous volumes, the result was unexpectedly orderly and melodic. There was an intense physicality that connected audience to performer. It was like peering onto an unfamiliar ceremony – I can’t necessarily translate all the words, but I felt the significance of the experience. Boredoms totally seized my attention. I stopped noticing the headbangers or the people dancing or the crowd. For the intense, two-hour marathon of drums and noise, it was only Boredoms.


[Words by Diana Wong]
[Photos by Mina K]
______________________________________________________
1. For more details on their extensive history, see Kevin Hainey’s “TIMELINE – Boredoms: The Art of Noise.”
2. Paul Hegarty’s Noise/Music: A History (New York: Continuum, 2007) provides a detailed discussion on this matter. Also a worthy read, "Full of Noise: Theory and Japanese Noise Music."
3. An even more extreme example of benefits of an aerial view comes from Boredoms’ 77Boadrum performance on 7/7/07. I watched the drum circle from the Brooklyn Bridge while other Loose affiliates were lucky enough to be on ground-level.

Live Review: Anathallo @ Mercury Lounge [4.3.08]

The seven Chicagoans of Anathallo brought their wondrous live show to the small stage of the Mercury Lounge last night.

While it seems like some large bands like to have a lot of members just for the sake of having a lot of members, everyone in Anathallo has their role and executes it extremely well. From trombones and trumpets to bass drums and bricks (yes, bricks), what could just be clutter comes out as some of the sweetest and brightest music around.

Arresting the attention of the commonly talkative Bowery Presents crowds never is an easy task, but within bars of the first song Anathallo had done just that. They moved quickly into the three "Hanasakajijii" songs from their most recent album Floating World, which is steeped in the lore of a Japanese fairy tale. That story-telling aspect is present in the music , as there is a discernible rising action, a conflict, and some breathtaking resolving moments where their different musical paths all converge.

During the delightfully upbeat "Dokkoise House," the band ran through the familiar stage-acting motions of imitating blossoming flowers ("Six beautiful flowers," as lead singer Matt Joynt put it, ad-libbing one of the lines), as well as the seizure-like body-shaking during "Hanasakajijii (two: floating world)." All the while, Anathallo also uses 'intricate' hand-clapping to fill in around the myriad of percussion instruments - intricate perhaps only to the crowd who, aside from those very familiar with the music, often derail after one attempt at clapping along.

Despite requests for older material from the crowd just before the close of the set (and by crowd I mean I'm positive it was the same male voice I heard calling for Anathallo-oldie "A Holiday At The Sea" a year ago...), the band regretfully declined. "We just want to play something new," laughed Joynt. They wrapped their show with "Noni's Field," a song they have performed often before but will be featured on their newest album Canopy Glow, which will be released as soon as they find a label (possible suitors can contact them here).

Punchy use of horns blend character into the brash and rumbling percussion. Their vocals range from songs featuring only Joynt (songs that tend to be more introverted) to nearly the whole band during more chorus-like tunes like "Hanasakajijii (four: A Great Wind, More Ash)." And each member shows their range in vocals as well, not only joining in synchronized shouts but beautiful and reserved harmonies.

Yes, this all sounds a bit complicated. The song titles alone could scare some timid listeners from being interested. But that's what makes Anathallo special. Their live show could just be a cacophonous mess, something that could be aided by axing a few members; but it's not. They could stumble all over each other on stage, both aurally and physically; but they don't. What they do (and do well) is use the sonic and physical space available to the best of their abilities, meshing musical execution and absolute showmanship (read: fun).

All parts of the music are brilliantly clear, most likely because each member seems to care so much about them. Even after the show, percussionist/brass man/dance-clapper Bret Wallin still agonized over an earlier brick mishap ("I dropped the brick in the first song!!" he said, heartbroken).

Anathallo will be back around at the beginning of the summer, at which time they will hopefully be touring Canopy Glow as a released album. This time through their exuberant live show should not be missed.

Bret Wallin and Jamie Macleod and the aforementioned bricks

Matt Joynt's Floating (World)
Matt Joynt and Erica Froman match vocals
Bret Wallin and Jamie Macleod shake things up during "Hanasakajijii (two: floating world)"

Photos & Review by Sean O'Kane
Full photo set available here.

In and Out :: Preview [4.2.08] I Love You Airlines @ Bowery Poetry Club

Tonight, for the first time in a hot minute, I Love You Airlines will be storming the coast of Manhattan and shaking The Bowery Poetry Club like they're one of those Peruvian earthquakes that levels cities and make people give money to the American Red Cross. Of course, any venue shaking will be purely metaphorical because its actual destruction would be at best inconvenient and at worst, possibly disastrous. The kind of shaking that will take place will be human and it will most certainly be happening in front of the stage. Over time, vibrations will spread from front to back like a comb through the greasy-hair and vacant-eyed hipsters who will decorate the audience like a far better-educated pointillist painting. And by the end, as I Love You Airlines finds their finishing kick and their drummer (also a sushi chef) is wailing on his kit like a piece of raw and poorly behaved tuna, you'll find yourself moving too. You'll find yourself wondering how this show is possibly free and how you haven't seen this band yet. You might even wonder if the floor is going to survive the 15.5 Richter onslaught. This isn't dance-rock and it ain't indie-rock, and it ain't even glam-rock; this is straight rock music and it's going to kick your ass. Check it in or check it out.

I Love You Airlines
10.30PM
Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery @ 1st
FREE (drink specials are rumored)

Live Review: John Vanderslice @ Mercury Lounge [3.30.08]

Sunday night: time for most of America to sit at home, prepare for the week ahead, and go to sleep early. But for a few brave souls at Mercury Lounge the pain of an early Monday morning after a short night of sleep was the last thing on their minds. John Vanderslice—probably the friendliest entertainer in rock—saddled up with two flannel-wearing (but not quite country) acts, Deer Tick and the Cotton Jones Basket Ride (the new project of Michael Nau of Page France) to put on an evening that featured the songwriter’s craft at its best.

The somewhat awkwardly named Cotton Jones Basket Ride is not much a departure for Nau. He gives up the acoustic guitar, but his ringing nasal voice and poetic world of bluebirds and black hearts still resound. There were telecasters, button-up shirts, jeans, and flannel in abundance, but the country-vibe was not that present in the sound. I heard something vaguely 60’s-ish, a mixture between the smoothness of soul backing bands and the slight twang of The Band. For some reason—and tell me why I think this but it’s strange enough to lay bare for all—I kept thinking of crushed velvet and James Bond movies—in the sound—despite the overt references to a culture entirely separate from that. I think it has something to do with the way the drums sashayed in the songs: they didn’t have that prickly gallop I expected (considering the country look).

Deer Tick, on the other hand, played country music. They had a more old-time look, in particular bassist Chris Ryan, who dressed in barbershop quartet gear and had a well-trimmed but full mustache. He looked a bit like the Pringles man. But all this is neither here nor there. The music, country as it was, was not an essay in genre-play. The songs worked, and not merely as nostalgic documents of a different time. Songwriter and lead singer John McCauley sang melancholy poetry with a voice that was nasal but worn at the same time, like a mixture of Dylan and unplugged Cobain. My favorite song of the evening came early in the set, “Art Isn’t Real (City of Sin).” The infectious “Iayeyai” at the beginning of the melody was instantly catchy. (Lyrical context: “I am the dotted line/you fill me in with whatever you like.”) McCauley was quite the comedian, too, entertaining between songs with deadpan orations on the state of his voice, Limp Bizkit, the TV show House, and more.

John Vanderslice, who is currently on tour opening for Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, seemed happy to be playing the headliner roll. After playing “White Dove” to open the set (a song, it may not be wholly extraneous to note, that I was humming all day in expectation of the show), he was pleased with the results: “We’ve never opened with that…It went well.” Vanderslice, who always seems sunny California happy, expressed to us early and often how much fun he was having playing music (“which isn’t always the case”, he said). He was giddy and loose all night (even messing up a few song openings), and he certainly challenged McCauley for the evening’s comedy title.

It is a difficult thing not to fall in love with someone this nice already, but his music—played with the help of this tour’s backing band, Ian Bjornstad, David Douglas, Daniel Hart, and sound engineer David Willingham—was, as always, erudite, sharp and perfectly pop. There was nothing excessive about the music: chords, sounds, and words all fit together in a way that welcomed you into their world. Of course, a writer of well-crafted pop songs would be a populist, but just in case you were wondering Vanderslice refused to do an encore (which is, after all, a stupid tradition in rock shows) and instead came out into the audience and played an acoustic set with guitar, violin, accordion, xylophone, and tom-tom. This is something he’s done before, but it felt like we were his favorite audience ever (and who knows…?). He melded with the crowd, and the evening took on that happy (we’re talking nearly hippie-level proportions here!), sing-a-long communal vibe that we all so deeply desire in our democratic hearts of hearts.

[Words: John Melillo]
[Pictures: Elizabeth Weinberg]

Album Review: Colour Revolt - Plunder, Beg, And Curse [Fat Possum, April 2008]

When a band announces an album release date of April Fool’s Day, it’s hard not to question their sincerity. But aside from some early release hi-jinks, Colour Revolt’s first full album is as serious (and seriously good) as they come.

Before bands like Gnarls Barkley and The Raconteurs caught on to the trend of “leaking” themselves, Colour Revolt quietly allowed emusic.com to start selling the digital copy of their new alubum Plunder, Beg, and Curse. Then they started selling the hard copy on the website of their label Fat Possum Records.

Any excuse not to own this album is now squandered as today marks the “official” release date, and these Mississippi natives are giving listeners all of these options so they can prove they are more than worth the listen.

If you’ve been lucky enough to catch their passionate live show at any point in the past year or so, a good portion of Plunder will sound familiar. Three of the songs were introduced and heavily performed and retooled during their extensive touring in 2007.

One of those songs, “Naked And Red,” starts the album by showcasing what Colour Revolt does best – Patrick Addison and Len Clark’s grunting bass and drums thumping together in time, Jesse Coppenbarger and Sean Kirkpatrick’s vocal harmonies matching up perfectly, and Jimmy Cajoleas’ writhing guitar lines snaking their way around it all.

“A Siren” follows with Coppenbarger’s signature raspy vocals outlining lyrics like “Even if you need it all/The ground won’t break to save your fall/Even if you need it all.”

Boldly following with the snail-paced “Elegant View” (in a third-track slot often reserved for radio singles), Coppenbarger and Kirkpatrick once again match vocals with a chillingly ghastly touch. The seemingly slow song is worth the wait when the final minute delivers with a release of chugging guitar and powerful rhythm.

The next two songs present the heart of the album. “See It” shines in it’s romantic honesty, with lines like “I want to see it/I want to rock right from your tree/I want to be it/I want to taste what I can see.” Following is “Moses of the South,” perhaps the most radio-ready, but easily the most melodic and rich song on the album. The hesitance in Coppenbarger’s voice during these two songs is an incredible tonal shift from his riotous screams (a shift that has drawn the ire of some fans). In fact it is not just the sorrowful nature of his voice that is intriguing, but the deliberate confidence that lies underneath and sells it so well.

“Swamp” and “Ageless Everytime” are the other two heavily traveled songs, dating as far back as a few months to over a year ago. The polish they now come with proves them worth the wait, as both will easily lodge in your brain for days after hearing them.

The reverb-soaked slide guitar in “Innocent And All” invokes George Michael and his "Wicked Games" (yes, THAT George Michael), and even could be compared to some of the slower offerings from Coldplay’s sophomore effort, A Rush of Blood to the Head.

Plunder finishes strong with the muscular “Shovel To Ground” and the inquisitive lines of “What Will Come Of Us?” (If God is good/Why can’t I be?/No I can’t answer that). Still early in 2008, Colour Revolt has put together what should prove to be one of the most complete and powerful efforts of the year.

After torturing fans by touring on one six-song EP for over a year, they have finally established themselves with an album that ranges seemingly beyond the limits of five young guys, three of whom are still in college. When they graduate in May, be prepared to watch them take the indie-rock world by storm. No joke.