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.

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]

Live Review: Bowerbirds @Mercury Lounge [02.29.08]

Bowerbirds walk towards their airstream trailer, point out how beautiful the fresh snow looks covering everything, and open the screened door to go inside and write about this moment. They tell long stories about their friends talents and abilities, and thank them profusely on their website…all in all they seem like downright nice people.

I can't imagine how long this is going to last...why do I feel sad about them already? Unless they stay locked up forever in that trailer or have the musical stubbornness of Tom Waits they are inevitably going to change. The only reason I worry is right at this moment they are so perfect.

The show at Mercury Lounge was a flawless example. The weather certainly wasn't encouraging anyone to make the trip, but those who did witnessed the rare stripped down, humble performance of a downright genius album Hymns for a Dark Horse and a few new untitled worthy ones. Absent were cymbals, or any percussion on the recorded album apart from the giant bass drum in the middle of the stage played by Beth or Marc with mallets, alternately hitting the edge with the stick between booming hits, wearing a hole into the side. In their place was a harpsichord and a midi foot pedal contraption connected to a blinking box adding ominous swelling bass chords underneath the shining high nylon acoustic guitar and vibrato violin notes.

Phil Moore is a virtuoso in his ability to separate the lyric melody from his acoustic accompaniment; it’s two separate entities playing apart, all the while the minimal instrumentation providing a pedestal for the flawless cautionary verse.

They never said anything to break this fantasy of an exceptional gypsy band just arrived out of the backwoods, completely alien to any kind of scene. They played one song after another to a hushed crowd, so quiet you could hear the clicking of the paparazzi in the front row lined up, flashing photo after photo.

The thing that keeps these songs compelling is this contrast between the simple sound of real instruments and the primal savagery of the content....living things conspire against each other, everything is going to decay and I don't know how hopeful we really can be in the end.

Politics aside, they seem to be saying we are pretty much destined, not necessarily to screw it all up, or even knowingly have a choice in the matter, but that there's something inevitable about the way we're constructed and continue to live that isn't going to lead to a happy ending.

I think it's their ability to carefully describe a place and feeling very particularly that gives them a truly unique sound. Coupled with Phil's vocals, Bowerbirds paint not a pretty picture but the reality of nature so reverentially that I'll go down listening with the whole beautiful awful mess on repeat.

[Words by Jason Dean]
[Photos by Mina K]

Live Photos: Le Loup @Mercury Lounge [12.13.07]

In remorse for not having posted any photos of Le Loup's lead singer Sam Simkoff on my CMJ review, this post is visually devoted to him. The below photos were taken at last Thursday night's Mercury Lounge gig, where the band was opening for Margot & the Nuclear So & So's. The first pair of shots depict Calm Sam, and the last pair feature him turned up to 11.

Being an evangelical fan of Le Loup, I'm tempted to boast that everyone should have caught this show, but the truth is that I think the talented kids were a little off their game after the 8.5 hour drive from Boston through snow and slush. There are seven players, which warrants tight coordination, and I think fatigue simply didn't fold in seamlessly on this particular night.

That being said, I still reveled in the heart emanating from the ensemble's lively set, which was refreshingly honest in comparison to the overly-polished and substance-void headliners to follow. The set reminded me of a good ol' hillbilly punk O'Death show, except that the audience consisted of very un-hillbilly people sporting gigantic fake Balenciaga bags. Perhaps Le Loup could benefit from touring with a headliner who draws a more energetic, soulful crowd.

[Photos by Mina K]

Live Review: The Thrills @ The Mercury Lounge NYC [11.9.07]

The Thrills are one of those post-modern bands that make your head hurt if you think about it too hard. They're Irish and have a huge Irish following. It's not quite The Pogues but the Mercury Lounge is easily a quarter-Irish on this Friday night. And, with all due respect, the 25-percent of the crowd that claims Irish heritage is predictably drunk and making themselves heard. But. The Thrills don't play Irish music. They play a sun-shiny version of California-pop. There is absolutely no connection between where they come from and what they play. This is art entirely detached from meaning. Don't even bother trying to piece this thing together.

What is connected is that The Thrills have a great new album, Teenager and they're in New York for the first time in two years promoting the release. They open with the album's first, and possibly best song, "Midnight Choir." We're pushing midnight on the Lower East Side and the Mercury Lounge is completely sold out and singing along. The band rolls into material from their first record playing, "Big Sur" and "Santa Cruz (You're Not That Far)." The songs are cloyingly cute and would remind you of The Beach Boys covering Neil Young's catalogue. There are some obvious limits to their earlier work.

But the new record is deeper and the sonic differences are many. The Thrills are willing to sound similar on all their three albums, but they're not willing to stay in one place. They use the mandolin prominently on the new disc and it seeps out of the Mercury Lounge speakers like a sunny June morning. The silky three-part harmonies the band uses to flesh out their arrangements also sound well-rendered and someone should probably throw the sound guy twenty bucks because he's making all this fit together.

The Thrills smartly stay away from most of the material from their second album, Let's Bottle Bohemia. It's the record that put their career, their major label deal, and their finances in jeopardy and it seems like they know. The sneak in "Found My Rosebud," and it sounds fine but they clearly would rather operate of the limited but charming first album and the more rich, if in places incomplete, third album. Teenager is a real ode to youth culture, the beauty and the beast of being young. For a band three albums deep in their career, it's a nice image.

Singing the chorus of "This Year," lead singer, Conor Deasy says over and over again "this year will be our year/this year will be our year." When the song finishes, he backs from the mic and says "thank you" with a little bow. There is something particularly gracious going on here. He's not kidding and he's not faking. He really is thankful. For a band back from the brink, with a good new album and a capacity crowd, it makes sense why. There's a connection there. Even if it is an Irish band singing California.