The surrealists employed a method of drawing called the exquisite corpse, where an artist would create an image on a section of paper, fold it back to conceal the image, and then pass on the paper for another artist’s contribution. The beautiful monstrosity wasn’t revealed until everyone was finished and the paper unfolded.
Walking down South Congress Street during SXSW 2013 yesterday felt like the musical version of an exquisite corpse. Nearly every block had its own outdoor stage, with an alternative country performance across the street from a hard rock band, indie pop music next to honky-tonk, and street musicians in between. It was sonic mayhem.
While some find it enjoyable to be able to sing along along to a familiar band, there is unequaled pleasure and pride in “discovering” a new one – the more obscure, the better. We left our frustratingly fathomless festival handbook at the hotel, letting fortune be our guide, and made for S. Congress. The street is aptly named because it seems that everything comes together there, and has the gentrified, bohemian feel of Valencia Street, with vintage shops, craft fairs, and a good ice cream parlor.
While musicians are turned away at larger venues downtown, it’s virtually open mike in SoCo. That’s not to imply that the music is worse. On the contrary. It is here that we stumbled upon a standout band called Residual Kid, from Austin, with Max Redman (12-years-old), Ben Redman (14), and Deven Ivy (14). Teen/tween angst doesn’t get better than this.
At the Music by the Slice stage, Telekinesis lead singer Michael Lerner sat front and center, singing over the cymbals of his drumset to hipsters holding pizzas. Young Galaxy, from Canada, also performed, it with a ’80s synth-heavy sound, snappy beats, and open-throated vocals.
Moseying down to the St. Vincent De Paul parking lot, Canadian country music band Corb Lund played to a crowd lounging on overstuffed sofas, reminiscent of an impromptu porch concert. Singing straight country with a storytelling bent, he twanged about speeding on the highway with a foot “heavy with redemption” and a “bible on the dash.”
Down another block, adorable duo, Kelly Willis and Bruce Robison, got folks dancing at the South by San Jose stage with romantic country ballads.
While the music may be eclectic, the food is less so, despite the ubiquity of food trucks. While most restaurants serve any combination of Tex Mex (fried burrito anyone?) and BBQ (Austin’s staple food is shredded pork in a white bun), it is possible to find some fresh greens. At the non-profit, Casa de Luz, we sat down to a hippie-cafeteria style prix fixe lunch, piled high with kale and homemade kraut.
But the siren smell of smoked meats is too alluring, and we couldn’t help but splurge on an artery-clogging, three meat BBQ sandwich from the food truck, La Barbecue. Delicious. There was also an offshoot show behind the BBQ parking lot, called the SX704 Showcase, with hip-hop performances by SL Jones from Atlanta, and Rich Kidd from Toronto.
As we walked over the Congress Avenue Bridge in the evening, the famous bats started to leave their hiding places beneath, swarming in search of their sunset meal. They made thousands of shotgun holes in the sky, and moved in tandem like a starling murmuration, adding just one more sight to the wonderful weirdness this town has to offer.
Navigating the wild landscape of music, parties, and food at SXSW is exhausting, but in the end, we’re rewarded with great memories. And it’s a good thing we took photos too, because our eardrums are shot.
Immersing oneself in the SXSW 2013 musical experience feels akin to getting deep fried in a small tub of hot oil, crammed with sundry other dancing meats. The sizzle we hear are our eardrums giving their last scream from last night’s who-knows-where-we-are dance party. Austin is hot with things to do and people to do it with.
To try to cool off in the afternoon, we took a stroll along Lady Bird Lake (a beautiful, dammed section of the Colorado River threading through Austin); however, as hard as it may be to get into a show, one can never really escape the festival either. Floating on the water like giant square speakers, cruise ships blare beats and host bacchanals. Even under the water, the party rocks on. Gazing on with a group of varyingly enthused, bewildered, and disgusted bystanders, we watched (what we think were) two huge turtles get it on. Talk about hardcore. It’s clear, Energizer picked the wrong mascot for endurance.
Multiple venues abut the lake, including the outdoor World Stage, featuring the bubble pop sensation Won Fu, from Taiwan. It could have stepped out of a ’60s children’s show with its wholesome good looks, zany sense of humor, and tight retro outfits. The group has the optimism that comes from playing to audiences packed with kids, and the wry wit that comes from playing to too many audiences packed with kids. Its melodies are short, catchy, and pepped with sugar-high beats. Its lyrics are obsessively constrained to myopic motifs, like short skirts and BBQ. With two foxy ladies backing up the lead singer in his squire cut mop, one can’t help but smile when he advises us to “have a nice day, have a nice year, have a nice life, yaaaa!!!”
World music sometimes just seems synonymous for random. Following this gigglingly cute act, was Daria, from Angers, France, bringing a whopping fist of furious metal rock.
The Seattle indie radio station, KEXP, hosted a party at Lance Armstrong’s bike shop, Mellow Johnny’s. We caught a set by Unknown Mortal Orchestra, where the audience packed the floor, listening with quiet appreciation. It’s easy to imagine oneself coasting on a cloudy day over the 520 bridge into Seattle with UMO’s echoey guitars on the radio before stopping on Capitol Hill for a micro-brew with friends.
The highlight of our night was catching the band, Family of the Year, at the Moody Theater. Its music wraps one with the remembered, condoling comfort of a childhood blankie, and would make the perfect soundtrack to a heartbreaking Sundance film. The band performs like a tight family might, and for the first few songs, it shared the musical load so equally it would have been hard to tell who was the lead singer. This sense of togetherness is one quality that makes its music tender such emotional solace. The build-up of each song is transportive, and after the set, we felt the kind of drained satisfaction that comes after a long cry.
Also at the Moody was Lord Huron, a folk band that parachutes its melodies into vast, open soundscapes, leaving them to explore their way back home.
Many fans also came to hear Natalie Maines, of Dixie Chicks fame, showcase songs from her new album, Mother. Her outspoken directness of yesteryear has found perhaps new stylistic orientation toward introspective candor. Maines performance, though reserved, was solid, featuring a melancholic cover of Pink Floyd’s political anthem, “Mother.”
I was introduced to the Hush Sound in high school, when a girlfriend burned “Like Vines” onto a mix CD for me. It was love at first listen. The awkward, adorably fumbling song structures and whimsical lyrics of the Like Vines album were the perfect mirror to my gawky teenage soul. Goodbye Blues, the last album the band released before going on hiatus, showed more advanced songwriting technique and much better production. It was a tragedy. Growing up had made the Hush Sound lose its charm. I kept burning old Hush Sound songs onto mix CDs for a couple of years, and then slowly forgot about it.
You can imagine my surprise when, walking into the Great American last Friday night for a Hush Sound reunion show, I found myself in a nearly sold-out venue. As it turns out, other people had also restlessly waited through the five-year hiatus for this opportunity to relive their youth.
The crowd was predominantly early-20s females — my people. All around me I saw old, faded Hush Sound T-shirts several sizes too small and excited faces screaming at every advancement of set up: drum kit, scream, mic check, scream.
As the Hush Sound took the stage, the energy in the venue was through the roof. To my — and apparently everyone else’s —delight, the first song was “Like Vines.” The floor shook with bouncing bodies and the band nearly drowned out by hundreds of people singing along with every word.
As the set progressed, the audience’s energy plunged ahead undaunted. It screamed for every song, every interlude, and every very bad joke. The band itself was no match for us. Old, beloved songs seemed limp and lifeless. The band seemed tired, and the banter between Greta and Bob was stiff and painfully unfunny.
While the audience clearly had not outgrown its love for the Hush Sound, it seemed as though the band itself has moved on. When the group introduced a few new songs, however, its renewed energy and interest was palpable. Brand new songs like “Scavengers” had a great groove, awesome sing-along vocals, and the kind of enthusiasm that had been missing from the rest of the show.
For the encore, we fans were asked to show out requests. When “Crawling Toward the Sun” was selected, the crowd roared in excitement, to the bands apparent disbelief. As it plunged into one of its oldest songs, everything came together for a brief moment.
The band seemed to enjoy it and the audience was absolutely ecstatic as it sang in chorus and swayed with nostalgia. This joyful moment was a relief to me. It proved that the Hush Sound is still capable of capturing such moments. I am hopeful that the band’s next album is a return to the simple, earnest melodies its fans will always love it for.
In the life of Snoop Lion (or Doggy Dogg, for those who were done with hip-hop after Chronic 2000), there have been many steps made purely for monetary return. A partial list: various malt liquor endorsements, the AOL commercial co-starring Jerry Stiller, iFizzle, a line of clothing for dogs, an anti-viral ad campaign entitled “Hack is Wack.” One is to be excused if news of Reincarnated, the rapper’s reggae album produced by Major Lazer and featuring the drumming talent of the Police’s Stewart Copeland doesn’t set fire to one’s creative synapses.
Thank Jah he and his wife Shante co-executive produced a documentary about the making of the album in Jamaica for Vice. Somewhere in those 96 minutes, I started to feel better about things.
Witness, in a scene from Reincarnated the documentary as Snoop stands astride a roof in the Tivoli Gardens neighborhood of Kingston. Was it planned for the Vice cameras, this re-enactment of his first music video in Long Beach? It could have been, right down to the adoring throngs gathered in the street below.
Snoop explains in one of his many sit-downs with the camera that he was ready to “find a new path” for his career.
Reggae seems a likely transition for one of the world’s most famous stoners, and the connection to Jamaica does seem to go deep for Snoop. He describes the downtrodden Tivoli Gardens residents — described in the film as adrift after the extradition and imprisonment of ‘hood king Christopher “Dudus” Cook by the United States government on drug trafficking charges — as spiritual kin to his neighbors back in Long Beach. One things for sure, it doesn’t matter if you’re in Jamaica or the United States, Snoop is one of those celebrities that everyone loves, no matter how many 40 ozs. he’s endorsed.
Don’t think that Reincarnated isn’t filled with glamour shots of massive branches of Jamaican weed grown in the hills by the Rastas, the camera staring lovingly as Snoop blazes from a host of homemade smoking accoutrement and blunts. Goofy herb hijinx play throughout, most often by Snoop’s cousin Daz who has the film’s most memorable line: “I’m smoking a blunt in the jungle!”
You do get the impression that Snoop is into Jamaica for more than just the marijuana. Reincarnated follows him as he makes a pilgrimage to Bunny Wailer, who is the first in the film to call him by the new moniker he has halfway adopted these days (Snoop Lion has his own Twitter account these days, but someone is still tweeting from Snoop Dogg’s handle.)
He visits Tuff Gong Studio, a school for boys from rough homes famed for creating ace reggae musicians, makes a trip to Bob Marley’s original block back in Trench Town, ceremonies with Rastafarian priests. He compares the Marley-Bunny-Peter Tosh tough knocks trinity to that of 213, his original group formed with Nate Dogg and Warren G (Lil 1/2 Dead, that group’s less-famous member, is absent from these musings to protect their symmetry.)
Feast your eyes: track offa Reincarnated the album
This is not to say that Reincarnated is a Jamaican album. Though Snoop luvs Tuff Gong, we watch the album itself be recorded in a 10-day stint at the luxe Geejam Studio, which is “also a fully functioning resort,” as Diplo describes. The team assembled is light on dread-head. “That shit do look like Scooby Doo when you add these motherfuckers in here,” Snoop laughs about his imported album team.
Snoop allows, at the beginning of the film, that he feels he’s taken hip-hop as far as he feels he can. “I know Obama wants me to go to the White House, but what the fuck can I perform?” Jamaica provides a respite from SoCal’s distractions, although tragedy does still seep into Reincarnated when a younger family member dies. Lay-back reggae beats do seem more fitting to a man who says he wants nothing more than to spend more time with his family (in one touching scene, Shante and the couple’s luminous daughter Cori B. contribute vocals to an anti-gun violence track on Reincarnated.)
It’s interesting to watch hip-hop legends get old and start dealing with legacy. Snoop has hinted that he’s the incarnation of Bob Marley, and in some ways the comparison is apt enough. One wonders what kind of hip-hop Marley would have made, had he lived to this stage in his career. Or, at the risk of heresy: what product endorsements. Tuff Gong kitchen cleaner? Buffalo soldier wings?
Fans made scrawling lines all through Austin, Texas, waiting to gain access to countless shows, as the SXSW 2013 music festival kicked off on Tuesday night.
Some eager devotees sat cross-legged, tolerating the intense Texas sun since 9am according to a chatty security guard, for the K-Pop Night Out showcase. In the SXSW hierarchy, badges trump wristbands, leaving hardcore fans without tags to load up on patience, scour listings for shows with free access, and pray capacity doesn’t max.
The Geeks, a punk band from Seoul, kicked off the K-Pop lineup — and their music was loud and fast. The lyrics, although mostly screamed in English, were unintelligible. It was all you could want from a punk act. The lead singer’s face-ripping seizures and crotch-grabbing agonies made the perfect counterpoint to his nice boy, real life personality. (He wore cute red Keds and white socks, after all.)
Over at the Empire Control Room, rising star, Ashley Monroe, brought a polished sound and mainstream appeal to SXSW, after appearing on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno Monday night. We expect to hear her a lot more at weddings, as couples make goo-goo eyes during their first dance.
For those who want to steer clear of the madness, it’s getting real in the Whole Foods parking lot with free preview concerts, clean bathrooms, and healthy samples. Buggaboo, a laid-back, broad strumming, stomp-along Austin band stopped shopping carts in their tracks.
Another act, Mike Love (not to be confused with the Beach Boys singer) came from Hawaii, bringing hippy goodness with reggae flair that paired well with the imported bananas we shared. He whipped out the beatbox, singing along to the loops he laid with lyrics that favored staccato pronunciation of multisyllabic words like “positivity” and “beautiful,” to embrace their full, upbeat, rhythmic potential.
In addition to the music, people watching at SXSW provided its own entertainment. Sitting on the curb on Tuesday’s balmy night, and chatting with eager travelers from Mexico to Australia, felt good enough when standing in another line proved too much.
Localized Appreesh is our thank-you column to the musicians that make the Bay. To be considered, contact emilysavage@sfbg.com.
Magic Fight has got fangs. More precisely, the newly formed Oakland “post-indie” band — led by Florida born singer-ukulele player Alex Christopher Haager — just released its very first single, “Fangs” off its forthcoming debut album, Wooden Swords & Stolen Echoes.
And if the first single is any indication of what’s to come (and I think it might be), this record is going to be one to watch. The charming indie pop song begins with a few Casiotone twinkles and a youthful sample, followed by shakers and shimmering harmonies, and the lyrics, “I showed you my fangs and my animal ears/You showed me your scar and your Hollis tattoo/I wanted a bit more than I could chew/So what else is new?”
It’s the kind of song that instantly grabs ahold of your pleasure center, then shakes your shoulders a little to let you know it’s real.
Magic Fight recently recorded a Daytrotter session (so keep an ear out for that) and will play the Brick and Mortar Music Hall this week, opening for the Lawlands, but first it sprinkled some magic spell dust on Localized Appreesh:
Year and location of origin: 2012 Oakland, California!
Band name origin: I had this name floating around in my head as far back as 2008 but I didn’t have a proper project to put it to. I think it was supposed to be some sort of electro-dance band at some point. Apparently there is still a Myspace page under this name with weird, random demos I made when I was living in Berlin.
Band motto: I wouldn’t say we have a motto as such, but when we are practicing and playing, we end up just saying “Yeah!” a lot. So I suppose that could be a motto of sorts. Constant positive self-affirmation?
Description of sound in 10 words or less: Tender-footed rumblesongs overheard escaping a polychrome cabin overlooking the sea.
Instrumentation: These songs and this band were formed around the combination of sounds produced by amplified ukulele, singing human voices, distorted casiotone keyboards, bass, drums and other random percussive items.
Most recent release: We just released a single called “FANGS” that is taken from a forthcoming seven-song album that will (likely) be called WOODEN SWORDS & STOLEN ECHOES. As of this moment, we are planning on self-releasing the album.
Best part about life as a Bay Area band: Aside from the fact that it simply means that we are living in such a great place on Planet Earth, I would say the best thing about it is that there are actually really great musicians and song-makers doing really great things in the Bay Area.
Worst part about life as a Bay Area band: The worst part is that it is often difficult to find those musicians and song-makers. Also everyone seems to be kind of high most the time, which doesn’t always result in high ambitions.
First album ever purchased: The first cassette I was ever given was the self-titled debut from glam gods Winger. But the first album I remember buying for myself was Sense Field’s 1996 record Building. So I have seen my way around the genre-block a few times, to say the least.
Most recent album purchased/downloaded: A good time for this question, because after personally waiting for about 16 years, I downloaded the new LP from My Bloody Valentine a couple weeks ago. Worth the wait. I think. It’s quite lush and good, in any case.
Favorite local eatery and dish: At this moment, I would say the most exciting food I have had recently was at St. Vincent in the Mission and the most exciting beer I have had was at Social Kitchen & Brewery in the Inner Sunset.
It really wasn’t a question whether the Robert Glasper Experiment would be any good at the New Parish on Friday night – but how it would go about replicating the success of Black Radio, which recently won the Grammy for R&B album of the year.
That’s an album that features notable collaborators on each track – Erykah Badu, Lupe Fiasco, Bilal, Mos Def/Yasiin Bey, etc. – which could leave pianist Glasper a lot to make up for live. Going into the show I had a few theories: maybe the group would use pre-recorded vocal tracks in places, maybe up-and-coming vocalists would be pulled on stage from Oakland’s music scene, or maybe some surprise guest would be introduced. (Singer José James was nearby at the San Jose Jazz Winter Fest. Maybe he’d finish in a timely manner over there and stop by?)
Glasper didn’t do any of that. When he came to the stage close to midnight, he quickly* introduced the rest of the Experiment – Casey Benjamin, Chris Dave [Ed. note — the drummer that night was actually Mark Colenburg], and “newly signed Blue Note recording artist” Derrick Hodge – and asked the completely packed crowd “Are there any Radiohead fans in the house tonight?” Keytar-playing Benjamin began singing “as your life passed before your eyes,” his voice given an alien quality via a vocoder, and Glasper began loosening up, playing the keys with occasional Mifune-esque shoulder shrugs, and taking the song further and further beyond the source materials.
Seemingly 10 minutes later, when I assumed the band had transitioned to some other song besides “Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box,” the band collectively seemed to hone in on the familiar melody.
And then they stepped back, Glasper and company stood to the side, as Hodge played a hefty bass solo. Glasper has a bold personality and a clever streak, as was evident a year and a half ago at Sketchfest, where he improvised on level with Reggie Watts, musically and comically.** Yet most of the time, he’s not a domineering figure, and doesn’t demand attention.
The band reformed, moving into a spacy version of Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme” and then Sade’s “Cherish the Day,” a song featured on Black Radio with singer Lalah Hathaway. But the charming, beaming Benjamin provided computerized soul and a really smashing and free saxophone solo.*** Increasingly, Glasper and company provided a showcase for the vocalist, as they did on Black Radio.
Covering a lot of musical territory with album tracks like “Ah Yeah”, and more interpretive covers including Bobby Caldwell’s “Open Your Eyes”/Common’s “The Light” and Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,”**** the crowd embraced it, shouting out “Tell Me, Robert!” and other encouragements. The guy who shouted “Take your time!” midset had the right idea, but I think the band already had that in mind.
*Well, after mentioning the after-party at Legionnaire Saloon. Asked for more specific directions, Glasper said “I don’t know where the fuck it is. Just go.” **Opposed to this year’s Sketchfest event, where Glasper, Watts, and drummer Chris Dave seemed strangely timid and, well, giggly. Maybe having something to do with this. ***Guy in the back, telling his friend that he could totally play that: full of shit or a talented musical unknown? Based on the girl standing next to him, constantly asking if anyone in the group was hungry, probably the former. ****The best surprise for me was the cover of soul jazz classic “Think Twice” by Donald Byrd, who died last month.
In the midst of Justin Bieber’s spectacular burn-out last week — in which the popthrob appears to ruined his 18th birthday sneaking minors into a club, been two hours late for a concert, collapsed at another concert, sworn at paparazzi, and generally become what we’d expect from an 18 year old whose life has been micromanaged ever since 2007 when YouTube got a hold of his DIY R&B covers — I had the distinct feeling that I’d read it all before.
And I had, kind of.The Love Song of Jonny Valentine by Teddy Wayne is a nice opportunity to tap into what Beeb’s inner monologue could sound like, should one dare.
On the phone this morning, I spoke with Wayne about whether others had picked up on the plot’s similarity to this week in Bieber. “People are starting to see the strange paralells,” he tells me.
But, Wayne says Biebs was merely a starting point for the book’s plot. “I read his own little memoir, I watched his documentary. But after that i deviated.” He read up on Jackie Coogan — one of the country’s first child stars who rose to fame in the Charlie Chaplin movie The Kid — plus Tatum O’Neil, Drew Barrymore, Michael Jackson.
But there’s no denying that the Jonny Valentine-Justin Bieber similarities are striking. The Love Song of Jonny Valentine is an entirely claustrophobic account of the titular, 11 year old (the age that Bieber’s career took off) top-tier moppet with adorably floppy bangs who sells out arenas, manages relationships via asinine interviews with schlock celeb gossip magazines, and is on, ON, onnnn unless obsessively playing video games. Valentine deals with an overbearing, flawed mother-manager and a troubling relationship with prescription drugs. He hooks up with groupies, terribly.
The book opens with this quote from a profile on the real Bieber in Interview magazine:
I want my world to be fun. No parents, no rules, no nothing. Like, no one can stop me. No one can stop me.
“I wanted to write about entrepernal narcissism,” Wayne tells me. “Meaning not just actual celebrities, but the way we all celebrate ourselves, posting about our vacations on Facebook, posting about the glamourous life we have.” The Internet is a boon to the self-absorbed, though it has had a disastrous effect on the lives of today’s child stars.
“The worst part is social media and digital photography means [young performers] can be busted for anything,” says Wayne. Although he notes that the Internet can certainly accelerate careers, “no one knew when Drew Barrymore was doing cocaine in nightclubs.”
In Wayne’s novel, Valentine eventually and not very lucidly realizes that he is being treated as a commodity. The realization, coupled with his extremely grueling schedule and horrific family situation pushes him over the edge. Perhaps it doesn’t take a genius to know that many child stars will end up this way, but The Love Song of Jonny Valentine goes beyond rubbernecking.
Its narrator is vapid (Says Valentine: “You can only control yourself, so it’s not how they act that matters, it’s how you react. The most successful celebs never lose control.”) but the story is not. The dissonance of an overly-adult situation narrated by a preteen gives the reader’s mind some time on the emotional playground. It’s also reminiscent of the way the endless barrage of “Stars: They’re Just Like Us!” features and tweets fake intimacy — with famous people, but also with our own emotions.
Oh dear, now Bieb’s gone and canceled Lisbon. Will Bieber pull through in one piece? I put the question to Wayne.
“I think he’ll probably be fine,” Wayne replies, unperturbed. “This seems like a bump in the road for him. He’s come this far, it looks like he has good management. I think Bieber will continue his world dominance.”
Maybe next year will be the best birthday ever? #takeabreakjustin
San Francisco’s VOWS has come a long way from its beginning in 2007. As with many creative enterprises, the band — which plays the Rickshaw Stop Wed/13 — formed out of the ashes of some good old-fashioned turmoil.
Guitarist Luke Sweeney and drummer Scott Tomio Noda, pals since high school, had just broken up with their band, and bassist Jitsun Sandoval, a friend with whom they sometimes played music, had just split with his wife. The three formed a band whose name signaled the start of restored commitment.
Arriving at a cafe on a bike whose tires had deflated with disuse, Sweeney reminisces about the old days of the band. The early period included near-weekly bike collisions and other kinds of upheavals. He recalled sleeping just feet away from Noda in the one bedroom apartment that they shared, as well as the “hippy circus speakeasy space” where Sandoval lived. “That was the first couple years of VOWS,” he tells me. “We were either homeless or living in squalor.”
Since ’07, the trio moved on from the squalor. Sweeney has a seven-month-old baby at home and several musical endeavors underway throughout the Bay Area; Noda and Sandoval have settled down in Los Angeles. But VOWS continues to develop.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Il4AND6Y5v0
When we meet a week before both a VOWS show at the Rickshaw Stop and the band beginning to record its third full-length album (due to drop some time next fall), Sweeney projects an easy confidence as he describes his band.
VOWS has no need to grasp at a formula or a manifesto; its members’ chemistry and experience produce a breed of rock that feels effortless. Part California psych-rock, part pop, and with a bit of something reminiscent of country, its tunes invite head-nodding and that strange sensation of beginning to sing along until you realize you don’t know the words.
Get a better sense of VOWS before its Rickshaw show as Sweeney discusses the band’s development, VOWS’ principles of genre, and the gospel of Al Green:
San Francisco Bay GuardianHow have you changed as a band over the past six years?
Luke Sweeney We’ve honed our sound and we’re very comfortable playing with each other. We’ve always been a band that will take a song and play with the arrangement of it. We like to do that a lot for live shows – change things around, keep things exciting. But more than as a band musically, I think it’s about growing as people….I think we’re a little more mature, and I think it’s reflected in our songs.
SFBGWhat are you working on for the third album?
LS We have a constant problem of having way more music than we could possibly record or keep track of or realistically promote and share with everybody, so we’re actually trying to play catch-up right now. The songs that we’re going to be recording next week are mostly two years old….I mean, it’s a delightful dilemma. With the first two albums, as soon as they were ready, we popped them in the oven – or maybe we took them out of the oven too fast; they weren’t as developed. These ones have been sitting around for a little while marinating. They’ll be more developed.
SFBGThe band is often described as having a “California sound.” Does this fit? LS I feel like our sound is not just Californian; it’s almost aesthetic-less in a way. In terms of what’s going on now with a lot of music, you have two ends of the spectrum – either this whole retro-folk scene…or you have this ’80s-referencing chillwave, synth, future-wave. We don’t really have any of that. Our music is based more on packing in as much melody and lyrics and instrumentation, the three basic colors of music. We try to apply those with a simple palette and don’t try to wash over them with any aesthetic. Although we do dress up ridiculously at our shows.
SFBGDo you have costumes planned for the Rickshaw Stop show?
LS Scott is often our wardrobe coordinator. I don’t know what he’s got in mind yet but he’ll definitely have something special and surprising. It’s all ages, though, so it’ll be tasteful.
SFBG How do you break up responsibility with writing? How does that process look?
LS It’s very collaborative. It’s mostly Jitsun or myself writing a song or a few pieces of a song and then all of us coming together on it….We don’t force anything. I never sit down and say, I have to finish a song. They all come from real moments of feeling, whether that feeling is agony or ecstasy, or just hungover. Everything’s pretty natural as it comes together. I can’t recall any time where we’ve had problems bringing a song into fruition. There might be a couple times where a song is super simple starting out, and it just takes some time to sit with the song and develop melodies. I don’t think I would be able to spend so much time on music if it wasn’t a natural thing.
SFBGWhere does the new music video for ‘Temptation?’ come from?
LS At the end of the video are a couple of pictures that Scott took from that same tour. Earlier in that tour, we happened to be playing in Memphis on a Sunday night. It was serendipitous because a couple of days before, we were in Lawrence, Kansas, and a really cool musician we met figured out we were going [to Memphis] on a Sunday and said, ‘get there early so you can go attend Al Green’s Sunday gospel church. ‘ And so we did.
We drove all night from St. Louis. Our first stop in Memphis was at the hospital because I had to get a shot and get my foot cleaned up from a shoe that cut me up [and from not being able to shower for a couple days]. And then right after the hospital we prayed for my foot’s healing and sang along with all the incredible music that was at Al Green’s gospel. It‘s probably the greatest show I’ve ever seen.
SFBGDid your foot heal?
LS It was healed up enough within the next 48 hours for me to jump off a roof into a swimming pool when we got to Denton, Texas. [Al Green] performs miracles.
VOWS With Standard Poodle, Goldenhearts Wed/13, 8pm, $10 Rickshaw Stop 155 Fell, SF (415) 861-2011 www.rickshawstop.com
If you’re avoiding the hype and heat of Austin for that annual indie, not indie music-and-film massacre that is South By Southwest (er, SXSW, nerds), fear not – there are still plenty of acts to catch live in our town this week. That list includes Martha Wainwright, PANTyRAID, Autre Ne Veut, the Dodos, an annual St. Patty’s Day punk blowout, and plenty more.
Here are your must-see Bay Area concerts this week/end:
Music for Adobe Books This last-minute event is the best kind of fundraiser: it’s for a worthy cause (the Mission’s beloved Adobe Books, which was forced out of business by a large rent increase) and features big name, locals acts including the Dodos, Adam Stephens of Two Gallants, the Tambo Rays, and DJ Andy Cabic of Vetiver. The show is part of the book shop’s Indiegogo campaign to create a new Adobe, with a sustainable plan for small arts and culture businesses such as itself. Mon/11, 7pm, $25 Public Works 161 Erie, SF www.publicworkssf.com https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1d6IeNpC9p0
Autre Ne Veut “’Anxiety in children is originally nothing other than an expression of the fact they are feeling the loss of the person they love.’ Sigmund Freud must have been on Arthur Ashin/Autre Ne Veut’s mind as he created his follow up album, appropriately entitled Anxiety. This New York electronic artist chips away at layers of R&B harmonies and futuristic free jazz.” — Ryan Prendiville With Majical Cloudz, Bago Mon/11, 9pm, $12 Independent 628 Divisadero, SF www.theindependentsf.com https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qhHUmL0U6k
VOWS “The legend of San Francisco band VOWS includes heartbreak, cross-country travel, and a little gambling in Reno. All that occurred nearly six years and a couple of albums ago. Since then, it has more finely tuned its breed of psych-pop comprised of punchy guitar riffs, seamless transitions between raspy yelps and bright three-part harmonies, and depth couched in catchy lyrics that all fits perfectly into a distinctly West Coast tradition. In the midst of recording its third album, VOWS comes to Rickshaw Stop to show it all off.” — Laura Kerry With Standard Poodle, the Goldenhearts Wed/13, 8pm, $10 Rickshaw Stop 155 Fell, SF (415) 861-2011 www.rickshawstop.com
Martha Wainwright Treasured, delicate folk singer-songwriter Martha Wainwright has had many lives – and they mostly play out in the themes of her personal albums such as 2008’s I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too, her Edith Piaf incarnation (Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers, a Paris, 2009) and most recently, the lovely Come Home to Mama, her 2012 record spurred by both the birth of her first child, and the death of her well-known Canadian folk singer mother, Kate McGarrigle. With BeRn Fri/15, 6:30pm, $20 Swedish American Hall 2174 Market, SF www.cafedunord.com https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4di1pbzveQ
PANTyRAID Electronic twosome PANTyRAID is broken down into Martin Folb (Marty Party) and Josh Mayer (Ooah of the Glitch Mob), which means An-ten-nae’s “Get Freaky” party is about to get a whole lot freakier. The experimental duo is known for mixing synth-based trip-hop, dubstep, electro, tribal drumming, and “whatever works and causes booty shaking and making out.” Fri/15, 10pm, $20 1015 Folsom, SF www.1015folsom.com http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oK3L-ZbWHv8
Afrolicious Is Afrolicious the hardest working world band in the Bay Area? It seems to pop up everywhere. The 12-piece Latin soul-tropical Afrobeat act met at Elbo Room’s energetic weekly Afrolicious party, and is this week playing the Great American Music Hall in celebration of its debut full-length album California Dreaming, released on its own label, Afrolicious Music. With Midtown Social Band, Afrolicious DJs Pleasure Maker and Senor Oz. Fri/15, 9pm, $15 Great American Music Hall 850 O’Farrell, SF www.slimspresents.com https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUZ1qBJI-pI
St. Patty’s Punk Bash XIII Ay, it’s time yet again to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with the punks at Thee Parkside, all damn day. This time, there’s Latin American-San Franciscan punk-with-horns act La Plebe, the legendary ’70s-born VKTMS, folk-punk group the Fucking Buckaroos, awesomely named Gorilla Biscuits cover group, Girl-illa Biscuits, Blackbird Raum, Unko Atama, and plenty more. Remember to wear green, drink large mugs of Guinness/shots of Jameson, and all those requisite traditions. With Ruleta Rusa, Bad Coyotes, Bankrupt District Sat/16, 3pm, $8-$10 Thee Parkside 1600 17th St., SF www.theeparkside.com https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SoSYwe77_to
Swedish duo Icona Pop made the typical announcement about being really happy to finish up its tour in San Francisco, last Thursday at the Passion Pit/Icona Pop/Matt and Kim show at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium.
Things likely have changed for Icona Pop, which specializes in bouncy, dubstep-inflected pop about “heartbreak,” particularly since the song “I Love It”* was appropriately included in the episode of HBO’s Girls where TV’s most self-centered character** goes on a coke binge.
Icona Pop received its biggest, swelling crowd response closing its set with the track, essentially the millionth song to say YOLO in recent memory. I’d say it has the potential to be the “song of its generation,” but only if we can all agree that that whole concept needs revising.***
Matt and Kim played Girl Talk (or at least a mega-mashup-mix of Black Sabbath, Timbaland beats, Jay Z 1.0, etc.) while warming up. Matt wore a Big Freedia t-shirt. Just a couple clues that the pair is similarly oriented towards audience response.
Snippets of familiar hits – Alice DeeJay’s “Do You Think You’re Better Off Alone” comes to mind, as well as Dr.Dre and Snoop**** – were occasionally mixed in with their own music, which most often has the same twinkling piano and rudimentary drum beat. Fun often came at the cost of sticking slavishly to trends, which would explain the “Harlem Shake” section of the show.
I want to dislike the duo, but somehow the two members remain really shiny, seemingly unpretentious musicians who have done their best to scale up from fine china-shattering house parties to festival sized performances and still be engaging. (The equipment mounted cameras they use make them seem slightly less like rockstars and more like contestants on a reality TV show, still slightly shocked by the exposure.) Even slightly criticizing them makes me feel like the time I tossed a kitten down a staircase. (I was 6.)
The last time I went to see Passion Pit – at the Warfield during the Manners tour – well, it was on what would retroactively be a first date, and in part because of the lame soul revue opener and my general nervousness, I drank way too much alcohol and ended high up in my balcony seat, where the show on stage seemed to consist of firing strobes lights directly at the audience. So, yeah, it was a lot of fun.
And, of course, I was very interested to see what a Passion Pit concert is actually like. Well, things started off maximally with “I’ll be Alright,” Manners single “The Reeling”, “Carried Away,” and the pretty “Moth Wings.” Then singer Michael Angelakos moved into a slight lull of twee balladry with “Love Is Greed,” a potentially devastating song for anyone that grew up on watching too many Disney movies*****, and “It’s Not My Fault, I’m Happy”, eventually rising back up to peak with the two best songs from sophomore album Gossamer, the R.Kelly-esque “Constant Conversations” and the politipop masterpiece “Take a Walk”******. It was a good performance, with Angelakos stalking the stage throughout and the band actually jamming a little bit on “Mirrored Sea.”
Passion Pit ended with “Sleepyhead” and “Little Secrets” as the encore. There were bubbles and confetti, but ultimately it all may not have been as memorable as forgetting.
*I like to imagine this song is borrowing the chorus structure of 10cc’s “Dreadlock Holiday,” but somehow I doubt it. **Besides maybe Walter White. ***How can someone three years younger than me not know of Mr. T? ****Or David Axelrod/David McCallum. *****At one point in the night, Angelakos began singing slowly and for a split second I was expecting this. ******Also on Girls, last night.
We’ve been hearing a lot about the Night Light thanks to its hosting of quality local shows; in the past year there have been performances by Warm Soda, Burnt Ones, Religious Girls, Jaberi and Deutsch, and the like. This Saturday, to celebrate 12 months of life, the bar-venue is hosting a free party, and there’ll be eight bands, seven DJs, and three comedians to check out throughout the night. Yes, all free.
First off, a little background. The Night Light is split-level Jack London Square area building with a bar on the bottom level, and a show venue up top. I’ll let the flowery press release give you the rest: “The decor is influenced by Speakeasy era bars, with flocked velvet wall paper, leather couches, and a darkly stained interior. The alcohol inventory focuses heavily on providing a wide selection of whiskies, and the cocktail menu offers new twists on Prohibition fare.” Doesn’t that cozy?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BS3i-YkeXLI
Here’s the good stuff: to celebrate the one-year anniversary, owners Doug Kinsey and Johnny “Scobey” Nackley (see interview above) are offering all-night happy hour, and a complimentary midnight champagne toast – might as well be New Years.
The performances: DJs Delgado and Odiaka from Fresh Jamz and Miggy Stardust will spin downstairs, beginning at 7pm. In the venue section upstairs, there’ll be sets by live bands Clipd Beaks, Spaceburn, Mahgeetah, Bam! Bam!, Old and Gray, Frankie and the Aztecs, Lessons, and Tastyville; DJs Protoghost, Inti Inti, and Rick Moranis (aw, nice to see that name again, even it’s in a different context), along with live comedy by Clark O’Kane, Joey Devine, and Sean Keane.
When I went to see YACHT, a couple years ago during the Treasure Island Music Festival, it was playing outdoors in the afternoon, and it seemed like the wrong time and place. Last year at the Fox, the conceptual electropop band seemed stifled by the combination of the large venue and sparse crowd, and also mired by the same lackluster audio conditions that made headliner Hot Chip sound like it was playing underwater. But Saturday at Slim’s, on my last night of Noise Pop, it seemed just…
Fuck, I’ve wandered into the Goldilocks cliché.
Anyway, YACHT likes to keep it personal. Personable? The duo of Jona Bechtolt and Claire L. Evans (bolstered by other band members on tour) affect a borderline cultish air — utopian ideals were all over its last album Shangri-La and lead track, um, “Utopia” — that plays better when the audience is kept close, in a intimate venue.
“Ahhh, your hair is so long!” a woman in the sold out crowd screamed, when singer Evans first appeared on stage during the sound check, dark roots showing under what was previously close cropped and bleached blonde. It struck me as the kind of thing you say to a close friend you haven’t seen in a while. (“She’s much better looking than the last time I saw her,” someone else near me judged later in the show.)
This friendly rapport makes a lot of sense, given how much effort the group makes towards fostering it. Hopping off stage and tangling the crowd up in a mic cord has basically become a rock party trick at this point (probably because it’s an almost foolproof way to charm the crowd). Evans employed it as a starter, but went on to continually flatter fans and solicit questions, indulging in requests for hugs and spare beers. Throughout this course of events, singer, multi-instrumentalist, and YACHT founder Bechtolt competed for the larger cult of personality with a hopped-up glee.
Somewhat listless at the Fox performance, YACHT was nothing but efficient on Saturday. Maybe it was limited on time to begin with, but the set clicked by, highlighted by high-energy renditions of “I Walked Along” and “Utopia” — better than any I’ve heard.
An obvious encore followed (right after Bechtolt assured someone — probably the guy up front waving a sticker sheet and Sharpie since the sound check —that he’d sign anything five minutes after the show was over) with “Ring the Bell,” a super snappy version of shout-along “Psychic City,” and “Second Summer.” It was all done with an intentionality that could be either super endearing to a fan or off-putting viewed as an outsider, but I’m increasingly finding myself group with the former.
Openers
Shock: “We only have two minutes left and our songs are like seven minutes,” singer and bassist Terri Loewenthal of Shock said, after playing three tracks of slinky synth funk with slow vocals and lots of glissando. Five or so minutes later, the ground finished its set and she added, “So that was the short version.” Which was pretty satisfying.
Future Twin: Future Twin was precociously San Francisco, noting that one song was about trying to find affordable housing and cracking dead on delivery jokes about the nudity ban only applying out on the streets. But with dynamic singer and guitarist Jean Yaste — whose voice recalls equally parts Corin Tucker and Exene Cervenka — and drummer Antonio Roman-Alcala, this band can get away with saying whatever it wants during mic breaks. Its upcoming benefit for the Roxie at the Verdi Club with Thee Oh Sees and Sonny and the Sunsets has it in good company.
Tussle: It’s been three years since I last saw Tussle at Milk Bar, and given the recordings the group released since then I had high expectations to see it much improved. But trouble with setting up a ton of equipment and subsequent delays really hobbled its start, and the group never seemed to quite overcome it. Unintentional tempo shifts seemed common, the double drummers never quite seemed to sync, and the generally structureless songs seemed to only end when every member came to the sudden realization that someone else was cuing them to wrap it up.
Our beloved kings and queen of trash rock and doo-wop hybrid Shannon and the Clams released “Rip Van Winkle,” the first single off their upcoming Hardly Art release, Dreams in Rat House (coming May 21).
The song, which features back-up by Magic Trick’s Noelle Cahill, is again the perfect blend of garage pop and beachy surf punk a la the Trashwomen, and has that cool hiccuping guitar effect kicking off the hip-shaking, foot-stomping, hand-clappy new track. As expected, chainsaw vocalist-bassist Shannon Shaw’s distinctive pipes stand out above all else. This all just serves to further excite us for the release of Dreams in Rat House.
Shaw, vocalist-bassist Cody Blanchard (King Lollipop), and drummer Ian Amberson also this week announced a tour with fellow Bay Area favorite, Mikal Cronin, which takes the bands through SXSW and back. Unfortunately that schedule does not yet include a local show upon return, though that can’t be far behind, right? (Alas, Shannon and the Clams plays its SXSW kickoff last night at Elbo Room.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0PBWuqRrpg
While the new album has yet to produce an official video, this seems like a good time revisit the Shannon and the Clams mini movies we’ve loved since the beginning (many directed by Shaw’s brother, Dan), way back when we just knew of Shaw as of Hunx’s Punkettes, and after the devotion solidified with 2010’s glorious Ruin Christmas EP and 2011’s Sleep Talk LP (1-2-3-4 Go!):
Will 2013 be the year that Noise Pop began downsizing? Or, is the festival simply adjusting its focus towards smaller, rising acts? Either way, this year’s lineup was surprising from the get-go, eschewing the name-brand, Flaming Lips-y headliners in favor of rising, blog-friendly outfits like Toro Y Moi and DIIV. Sadly, I couldn’t occupy nine venues at a time, so here’s a rundown of the Noise Pop shows I did see this past weekend.
CALIFONE Having listened to Califone‘s records for over a decade, yet never seen it live, I was curious about the band’s strategy in translating its studio material to the stage. From its introductory statement, Roomsound (2001), to the extended freakout-jams of Heron King Blues (2004), to last year’s Sometimes Good Weather Follows Bad People, Califone’s sound has always been production-oriented, augmenting the rustic twang of blues and roots music with an equally faded, rusted, precarious palette of electronic sound. No one merges the old and the new quite like Califone in the studio; the band’s records are visionary, but sadly, its live show didn’t quite measure up.
My first impression: no electronics. Frontperson Tim Rutili’s four-piece band consisted simply of two guitars, bass, and drums, leaving behind a significant part of the Califone identity. While this stripped-down approach isn’t necessarily a bad move, it requires a batch of songs strong enough to resonate after being whittled down to their skeletal forms.
While certain pieces thrived under the minimal treatment (“The Orchids,” “Electric Fence,” “Bottles and Bones”) others began spinning their wheels after a while (“Ape-Like,” “All Tied,” by Rutili’s side project Red Red Meat), without electronic ornamentation to keep the dynamics compelling. Yet, whenever the instrumentation was lacking, Rutili’s raspy voice and slide guitar came to the rescue, and picked up most of the slack.
While I would’ve liked to see them approach their studio material with more ambition and imagination, Rutili and Co. certainly made the trip to Cafe Du Nord worthwhile.
SCENE UNSEEN After Califone, I headed to 1015 Folsom to catch the last two sets of Scene Unseen, the club’s attempt to piece together the remnants of the “chillwave” scene of summer 2010. NYC’s Washed Out and recent Bay-Area transplant Toro Y Moi played DJ sets, one after the other, both of which seemed to amount to little more than standing in front of a MacBook, and pushing play. So, those seeking a “performance” were likely disappointed. However, both musicians put on competent, engaging sets, showing a deft understanding of flow and dynamics, and putting the crowd into a well-controlled frenzy.
Washed Out‘s crowd-pleasing-est moment was likely Todd Terje’s “Inspector Norse,” the space-disco extravaganza that every critic seemed to embrace in 2012. The best thing I heard for the first time was “Holding On” by Classixx, a house anthem that played like a poor-man’s “Digital Love” by Daft Punk, yet trounced most of the competition.
Toro Y Moi’s set was more diverse, and less reliant on four-on-the-floor percussion than Washed Out’s. Jumping from a Larry Levan remix of Positive Force’s “We Got the Funk,” to Daphni, Purity Ring, Mariah Carey, and most memorably, Ginuwine’s “Pony,” the lack of genre-specificity was reminiscent of Anything in Return, Toro Y Moi’s new LP that rejects the notion of chillwave for something warmer, more personable, and harder to classify.
It seems that Washed Out and Toro Y Moi have differing priorities at this point, with one staying comfortably within the confines of chillwave, and the other exploring beyond its boundaries. As a result, there wasn’t much of a unifying scene to be found at Scene Unseen, but it was a treat to see both artists, in a one-two punch.
DIIV One of the most promising groups within the current revival of shimmery, glassy dream-pop, NYC’s DIIV put on a truly impressive show for a one-album band. While it simply doesn’t have enough material at this point for an all-killer-no-filler, hour-long set, the band showed a great ability to adapt its recordings for the stage. Upping the tempos on a handful of songs, and veering into some extended jams, it managed to subvert expectations constantly, however slightly, making for a way more compelling show than a note-for-note playthrough of its 2012 debut Oshin would have been.
“Air Conditioning” was a big highlight, rejecting the laid-back swagger of the studio version, for a fast, propulsive, borderline-motorik groove that recalled the Velvet Underground and Ride. “Wait” and “How Long Have You Known?” were similarly impressive, rounding out the slam-dunk middle section of Oshin. The big surprise of the night came with a cover of Stereolab’s “Blue Milk,” (Bradford Cox’ favorite song, perhaps), a number that fit in seamlessly with the band’s glassy, shiny guitar sound, yet pushed its penchant for droney, chugging dynamics to a new extreme.
However, the elephant in the room: a lot of DIIV’s material sounds the same. Tracks like “Past Lives,” “Earthboy,” and “Sometime,” feature slight variations on the same guitar melody, and I’m still not sure how that makes me feel.
Whether its music is modular, lazy, or just underdeveloped this early in the game, there’s no doubt the band has a lot of room for refinement. Despite that, it was pretty thrilling to witness DIIV at (hopefully) the start of its lifespan, hungry to put its potential on display.
“Dude, a satchel? That’s the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.” “What?” I asked. “Your purse,” he said, pointing to my camera bag, as his apparent girlfriend giggled and tried to cover his mouth. “That’s so fucking gay. Are you from America?” “Thank you,” I said, as I finished putting in my ear plugs, mostly disinterested but half curious what he made of the two guys making out 10 feet across the dance floor.
Given that the last time I was in this situation, at Mezzanine to see NYC’s disco band the Crystal Ark supported by “San Francisco’s coveted queer DJ collective” Honey Soundsystem, was during Pride weekend, this was an odd encounter. But I’d already expected the crowd to be a little off, given that it was seemingly a late addition to the Noise Pop Festival and had to compete with packed, sold-out events in the vicinity.
Maybe the couple came out for the free Toro y Moi/Washed Out club night/email farm going on over at 1015 Folsom, and got turned off by the massive line. Maybe they were just visiting from out of town, and Mezzanine was close to their hotel. In any case, a short time into the band’s set, I couldn’t see them around, and presumed they left early.
Whatever. The Crystal Ark would be pretty central in a Venn diagram of my musical tastes. Gavin Russom is easily the fifth most significant member of now-defunct LCD Soundsystem, which doesn’t mean much except for obsessives (guilty.) With The Crystal Ark, he combines his synth expertise with Latin percussion and a trio of female singers in a way that recalls both ESG and Fania All-Stars. Plus, an additional utopian/spacey theme that suckers me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3X2NAqqUCM
Still, to be honest, the first time I saw the band I was a little disappointed. Mainly because it seemed to take at least a half an hour before it livened up and built into the kind of fluid groove you want from a group like that. Friday, the Crystal Ark seemed much improved. Coming to the stage with the slight awkwardness that comes with being the headlining band with no real opener, Russom proceeded with introductions, saying that they were glad to be back at Mezzanine, noting that “This is a wild city. I’ve only been two blocks, but I’ve seen a lot of wild shit.” (Presumably arriving via Sixth Street rather than Mint Plaza.)
But a few minutes into their new single “Rain,” the band seemed ready to go, with the chorus “C’mon, and show me what’s the best you got,” being an obvious challenge to the small crowd.
This time around the band was also smaller, consisting of Russom, a single percussionist and a group of singers-dancers led by Viva Ruiz. But the performance and connection to the audience was improved.
Throughout the night Ruiz would alternate between English and Spanish, at one point dedicating what I’d failed to realized was a pro-immigration song, “We Came To (Work)” to her father and “We the fucking people.”
Despite the smaller size, the sound was bigger and more synchronized. After finishing with the appropriate “Ascension” and the refrain “the time has come,” it was a little disappointing seeing the club shut down – opposed to last time where the Pride crowd and Honey Soundsystem kept things going – and Russom was packing up his gear. When I complimented him on the show, he attributed it to having released their album and having more time to focus on performing. Now they just have to find the right crowd.
I first learned of the Thermals in 2005 from the DVD series, Burn to Shine, in which bands play a house that’s set to be demolished. In an unlucky Portland, Oreg. home, the pop punk trio – by then together for just under three years – bounding with energy, played exclusive single “Welcome to the Planet.” That particular Burn to Shine installment also featured live, untouched performances by Sleater-Kinney, Mirah, the Decemberists, and the Gossip. A basic slice of life in Portland that year, all under one soon-to-be-gone roof.
Friday’s Noise Pop show at the Rickshaw Stop celebrated the 10th anniversary of the Thermals’ very first album, More Parts Per Million (2003, Sub Pop). And while it’s now all these years later, and the band has since released a decade’s worth of records building to 2013’s Desperate Ground, the Thermals have maintained a joyful, power-pop exuberance and nasally shine. The Rickshaw crowd pogo’d off its feet to every song, nearly in unison, matching the excitement of the band on stage, even causing a brief kerfuffle near the end.
“This week is the 10th anniversary of our first record,” said lead singer-guitarist Hutch Harris, “I hope you like it because we’re going to play most of it.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWjeAnnckKs
And the sold-out room did enjoy it. Despite the band’s relative longevity, the audience seemed mostly on the younger side; I’d guess at least half were under 21, and spotted those inked giant Xs on many a pumping fist (maybe they were just straight-edge? Do kids still do that?). That could also be due to the fact that the show was 18 and over, and the Rickshaw generally attracts a younger set.
The show opened with experimental San Francisco pop trio Ev Kain, which had a confusing, dense sound peppered with echoing duel vocal harmonies, expert, off-time drumming, angular guitars, and upbeat ska melodies. At different points, it was reminiscent of the early aughts math-rock and dance punk explosions, a welcome change from standard SF garage acts, at other moments the roaring lead vocals were distracting from the drumming (though I always am drawn to a drummer who sings). I overheard comparisons to both Radio 4 and Fishbone thrown out among the attendees up on balcony. See? Confusing.
All-teenage, all-girl beach pop group the She’s (ahem, our recent cover stars for the On the Rise issue) followed and impressed with those breezy harmonies and technical skills. The quartet opened with “Picture of Houses,” in which three of the four harmonize, “picture of houses in my life/grey skies and warm sand/it’s al-ri-ght” – that last “it’s alright” being repeated in a dreamy Beach Boys ode.
Pretty much everyone around me was smiling during the She’s set, especially when lead singer-guitarist Hannah Valente dedicated a song to her dad, saying “Happy birthday, dad!” before launching into a brand new track.
Next up, Dirty Ghosts brought out the Flying “V” guitars and classic, hard-hitting rock’n’roll. The band, another trio from San Francisco, seems to be getting tighter and brighter every year – perhaps it has just been too long since I’ve seen them live. They blew my mind like it was the first time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Lu9ydAkXzY
Led by the hair-shaking guitarist Allyson Baker and bassist Erin McDermott (who sported a beer tap strap and a Faith No More shirt), Dirty Ghosts played songs off last year’s Metal Moon, and seven-inch “Katana Rock/Eyes of a Stranger” (2012). They killed with “Eyes of a Stranger,” which, as they noted, is in the classic 1980s film, Valley Girl (a.k.a my all-time favorite movie), and also with gritty single “Ropes that Way,” during which Baker and McDermott walked toward each other and did that noodling rock star move they’re so good at.
An audience interaction I dug during the set: whenever Baker mentioned Canada, or talked at all really, a smaller cluster of ladies near me screamed, whooped, danced, and repeatedly called back to the stage banter (old friends from Baker’s native land of Toronto?). Either way, they were feeling it, and it was contagious.
The next day, I stopped by Noise Pop’s free happy hour show at Bender’s and caught the awesomely hard, deep-fried Southern ’70s rock’n’roll act Wild Eyes SF (with electric singer-tambourine shaker Janiece Gonzalez wearing an American flag denim vest, naturally, and drummer Ben Richardson, who, full disclosure, is a sometimes Guardian contributer), along with “[Black] Sabbath-worshiping” rock band Owl, and some delicious deep-fried tater tots dipped in ketchup. The greasy daytime show, packed with tall dudes with long hair and black shirts, was the perfect antidote to the poppy preceding night, and ended my Noise Pop 2013 week with a bang and a belly ache.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P25oXVQPqYM (Video shot by Guardian arts editor Cheryl Eddy)
It’s hard to be Nic Offer. Not because he’s a tortured artist struggling with celebrity or some other cliche, but because he busts it on stage in a way that’s difficult to match. A couple songs into !!!/Chk Chk Chk‘s Noise Pop show at the Great American Music Hall last night, the lead singer and number one dancer hustled along the row of tables between the crowd and the stage. “I need my catwalk,” he said, picking up all the glasses, water cups, and beer bottles along the way.
Anyone who has seen a !!! show knows that Offer is hyperkinetic. (He comes prepared to dance, dressed in a t-shirt and short shorts, a combination that reminds me of drummer Pat Mahoney, who would be similarly attired for endurance pushing set with LCD Soundsystem.)
This time around, Offer seemed especially energized, probably because the band was debuting material from the upcoming album Thr!!!er, including “One Girl / One Boy” and “Except Death.” The funky, acid-house infused “Slyd” was supposedly played by the band for the first time in a live setting, and Offer and company seemed pleased to pull off the sample-heavy track.
The singer made a big deal of it, but it was just one of many things he made look relatively easy. Perhaps a little too easy: near the end of !!!’s performance, the hyped up bass player from White Arrows hopped on stage. As the cocktail table toppled, the stage dive became a corgy flop.
Openers: White Arrows – its pseudo psychedelic pop is getting better all the time, although the band no longer seems to be coordinating thrift store Hawaiian shirts. The drummer has a nice predilection for irregular, semi-tribal beats, and the keyboardist’s falsetto sounded nice harmonizing with the singer’s drawl near the end of the set.
The Mallard– “hell of a screeching, bass-pumping build for an opener” is what I initially wrote down, seconds after the San Francisco band got going. Then it built and built, with lead singer Greer McGettrick seemingly telling a story in a way reminiscent of “The Gift.” The mix was off in a way that lost the narrative, but sonically it was interesting, complete with a kind of drone I’d never heard before via a live horn.
It was also assaultive; next to the speaker it felt like the back of my throat was full of Rice Crispies and Pop Rocks. By the end, stretching across the Mallard’s whole set, I started to pick up more of the lyrics – 911 calls and sirens – as McGettrick started eerily circling the crowd, intoning “There’s been a muhmuhmuhmuhmuh-murdah.” More Noise than Pop, it was the kind of opening that makes you super excited to hear the second song, and desperately hoping it doesn’t sound like the first. Which was probably why the trio camped out next to the stage with their fingers in their ears looked relieved when it turned out to be the band’s only one for the night. [Ed. note: apparently the Mallard was doing an extended cover of Throbbing Gristle last night]
The Yellow Dogs – the band looked like the Iranian Strokes, sounded like a speedier version of the Rapture crossed with a little Mars Volta, and sang wildly like the B-52s. They supposedly drove four days to get to the show, only to break down an hour away. They said it was worth it to perform with their favorite band, and the way the singer moved, I believe it.
UPDATE: We’ve just received word that this is not the official weekly relaunch — just a one time beer bust until more changes can be completed (hopefully very soon). But all are welcome on Sunday. Scratch that — new owners Mike and Alex have just confirmed that they’ve passed inspection and the Eagle will be officially open for business starting this Saturday night!
It’s been a long time coming, but many months, a new roof, and several opening postponements later, we have it on great authority that that great bastion of drunken leather biker rock ‘n roll whorishness, the SF Eagle, civic institution of the highest blackout magnitude, is back.
(Thank you super-hot outgoing Mr. Leather 2012 Jesse Vanciel, and congratulations to whoever is going to win Saturday evening’s contest at Hotel Whitcomb after a full weekend of events.)
That great authority who clued me in? The one-and-only Ray Tilton, executive director of Mr. San Francisco Leather events (and my awesome leather dad), who says: “As Executive Director of the SF Leather Contest and associated events I can tell you for a ‘fact’ they will be open. Whoo Hoo!”
I’m praying on my kneepads that the wonderful Don Baird will return as DJ (open secret: he was the best DJ in the city at Sunday beer busts for years). Here’s the full rundown — will see you there!
R. Stevie Moore is cool. When was the last time you saw a 60-odd-year-old* man standing on stage shouting “where my bitches at” and repeated calls of “swag”? That kind of thing never happens.** (Though it did last night at the Noise Pop show at Bottom of the Hill with Moore, Fresh and Onlys, Plateaus, and Burnt Ones).
Whenever anyone not born prior to 1990 tries to even pronounce that word it comes out all wrong, and the best anyone else can guess is that they’ve got some bad weed, are mentioning their recent trade convention experience, or most likely misquoting a 20-year-old SNL sketch, that last one being a closer reference for the age group.
Which is just to point out that while the rest of us seem to inevitably suffer from mental stasis at a certain age, struggling with increasing brain plasticity and self-inflicted memory loss, Moore was doing a pitch perfect Tyler the Creator last night, as he continues to function as a weird pop culture sponge.***
I don’t even know if OFWGKTA is still around or if people say swag unironically at this point without checking Google Trends. And I guess that’s kind of the point, because as the powder-blue-bearded Moore worked through a small part of his extensive catalog (“He covers a lot of ground,” someone in the crowd observed in the understatement of the night), it became clear that one thing the man is isn’t hip, but he is cool.
Fashion becomes passé, quotes become tired, sic transit fucking gloria, but Moore, the consummate outsider, proves that it’s hard to go out of style when you’ve never truly been in, even as a new wave of hipper musicians like Ariel Pink follow in his footsteps.****
While Moore sang that he “likes to stay home” last night as a closer, I couldn’t help but think how little he seems to have changed since the music video*****, and be glad that he’s still out on occasion. Pretty cool.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1MfeLx6Uds
*emphasis on “odd.” **outside the world of recent fun.-loving Taco Bell commercials. ***or vampire, which would explain his longevity. ****and have become his collaborators. *****compared to other iterations.
It’s a low-key kind of Noise Pop year compared to the past three or four, without the huge, attention-grabbing headliners of yore (looking at you, Flaming Lips at Bimbo’s), but Wednesday’s show at the Hemlock Tavern could have been nuzzled in nicely in any very early NP lineups, which is what made it feel authentically true to the inherent spirit of the festival.
No pomp or glitz, no big names or sold-out, packed-to-the-gills chaos. I initially went to see Olympia, Wash.’s Lake, a twee, lo-fi indie pop quartet with great hooks, but found much enjoyment out of the two bands that sandwiched that act (Cruel Summer and Blank Tapes), perhaps even more so?
I arrived early in Cruel Summer‘s set; I’m told the jangly San Francisco act had only played a few songs to the neatly packed in Hemlock crowd. There were casually smiling faces stretching from the front of the stage back to the sound guy, however there wasn’t that trademark Hemlock hot stink just yet. You could stretch your legs out without knocking into a sweaty mess. Though I detected a wafting hippie scent.
Cruel Summer, which consists of two hard-rocking ladies out front (bespectacled lead singer-guitarist Thea Chacamaty and bassist Chani Hawthorn), along with guitarist Josh Yule and bassist Sean Mosley, created a rolling wave of reverb and noise – so loud it drowned out the vocals – in a “dreamy gazey noisey hazy wavey gravy” way, as the band is wont to describe it. During the loud-sound-wave a few heads in the audience bopped and jerked hard, meeting each thundering drum hit with a nod of approval. Cruel Summer’s been around since 2011, but could easily fit in with ’80s shoegaze scenes or ’90s K Records stock.
The latter goes for second band Lake as well. Actually, Lake is currently on the K roster. And it fits right in. An aside: when I was first learning there was music being made beyond pop radio (‘sup KIIS-FM?) in my early, impressionable tweens, I had a friend with an older sister who was of the super cool girl alternative guild. She and her friends were in to riot grrrl, and twee, and K, and Kill Rock Stars, and the like. They wore cardigans, boat stripes, short skirts with nubby tights, and thick-framed glasses, and had glittery Fenders and drum kits. I feel like the older sis and her crew would’ve dug both Cruel Summer and Lake.
Anyway, Lake played mostly new songs last night, some that had sexy Bossa nova bass lines – the bass was noticeable after Lake asked the crowd if anything needed to be turned up louder. Some got so funky a few people noodled along to the beat. The four band members switched instruments a few times during the set, and three traded off covering male/female lead vocals, including Eli Moore and his wife, the sweet-voiced Ashley Eriksson, who also played keyboards.
Next up was the Blank Tapes; the trio also traded off male/female harmonies and pop hooks, but with a garage-rooted rock’n’roll edge – that was also due in part to standing drummer Pearl Charles smacking just two drums, a floor tom and a snare, often with a mighty thwack. This is also when the scent changed from hippie to pizza, as someone brought in a delicious-smelling pie, and I got jealous.
The dynamic between Charles and Blank Tapes pied-piper/multi-instrumentalist Matt Adams reminded one of my show-going companions of the famed Lee Hazlewood-Nancy Sinatra collaboration. Though on looks alone, it could’ve been Lindsay Weir and Ginger Baker. The band – which has the advantage of a rotating lineup and addresses in both LA and SF – sounded great, alive and full of energy, pumping up an already pleased crowd with crackling beach garage songs like bubbly “Coast to Coast” (a new single on Oakland’s Antenna Farm Records), a song I feel like must be called “Beach Party,” and tracks off 2012’s Sun’s Too Bright (Burger Records) tape. Live, the songs seemed far less relaxed than recorded versions.
It’s the way I imagine Noise Pop began, 21 years back, with talented, eclectic, lo-fi, noise-pop-genre-specific acts from up and down the West Coast huddled in a favorite little local venue, beating the shit out of their instruments. No fuss, no muss.
When I heard that super-popular, infuriatingly designed dance music download site Beatport had partnered with Shazam earlier this month, I wanted to write something about how the valuable mystery of the underground might be compromised by anyone being able to hold a phone up to immediately identify and download a track. And then I wanted to contrast some of the fun measures DJs might take to prevent their tracklists (one of the few proprietary things left that can really distinguish a good DJ) from being exposed, with the simple joy of finally stumbling upon a song you’d been looking for for 22 years that instantly projects you into your gloriously wasted youth because yay Internet. The partnership might not be so bad, after all, if it leads to new discoveries and interesting subversions.
Beatport has a lot of crappy mainstream tracks on it, and the back catalogue is incredibly spotty, but it has some great stuff, too, and it’s giant. (I go there once in a while to hear what a sizable audience is listening to and catch up on new releases.) And it does at least nominally reward musicmakers with some money and exposure, an opportunity to sell their handmade bedroom creations. It’s kind of like Etsy for pimply boys. If Beatport-Shazam helps people find and buy some great new tracks, then fine. I also remember how cute the Denver-based Beatport was in the beginning, its candy-raver-like representatives handing me alien-looking free download credit cards at Pride and Love Parade and the Detroit Electronic Music Festival. Awww.
But then I read this super-annoying but awesomely candid Billboard interview with Beatport CEO Matthew Adell about the partnership, and thought, “Hey, if they’re gonna treat underground music as just a big business to be repackaged and monetized, (albeit one they seem to enjoy at least a little), then they can defend the Shazam partnership from angry DJs their own damn selves.”
Because of course, despite its catalogue of music independently made and emblemmatic of underground party vibes, Beatport, like all music distribution, IS a business — a supervaluable one that considers itself in competition with iTunes and has exploded with the emergence of the boringly important pop-EDM phenomenon.
OK then: take all the Guetta and Swedish House Mafia imitators you want, SFX Entertainment — but leave our Silent Servant and Donato Dozzy alone! SFX had already built an empire based on the live rock performance boom of the ’90s and sold it to Clear Channel, which became the basis of Live Nation. Clear Channel was/is pretty damned evil. Will all the colorful characters of underground house and techno find themselves crushed by the wheels of industry? Will there be a rebel gospel house Pearl Jam, a UK dub-bass Prince in our future, fighting against the machine?
I’m merely a mindless consumer of all this music, though, dancing my heart out. Beatport is great, but when I (very rarely) DJ, I frantically run down to the Black Pancake record store in the Lower Haight, or purchase web-only tracks from Juno or Stompy or, gasp, record label sites themselves when Beatport surrenders no search returns.
So I turned to outspoken longtime label and production honcho Chris Lum of Harlum Muziq and legendary Moulton Studios to see what he thought. He replied in the form of a Facebook note — and as usual, he had plenty of thoughtful and passionate things to say about the general matter. I’m printing his response in full below, hoping to start a dialogue going about how the mainstream embrace of dance music, and just a particular type of dance music at that, is changing the industry and, quite possibly, the party.
Chris Lum:
In a 2009 Rolling Stone article, the great writer Matt Taibbi said this about Goldman Sachs. “The first thing you need to know about Goldman Sachs is that it’s everywhere. The world’s most powerful investment bank is a great vampire squid wrapped around the face of humanity, relentlessly jamming its blood funnel into anything that smells like money”.
This quote read round the world was the 1st thing that popped into my mind. You see, a few interesting things in the world of dance music happened to me over the last several days. It starts with me, getting re-acquainted with my roots as pure fan of house by way of sweating on a dance floor for a few blissful hours this past Saturday at Mighty. Who was I dancing to? Just a young lad known as “The Godfather Of House.” You know, the guy with a street named after him in Chicago. The brief moment of disconnecting myself from the man who’s been working in the industry for 20 years and reconnecting with the young man who was turned on by the music was profound. During that evening a conversation with [local DJ] Franky Boissy lead to him sharing a film with me called “Keep On Dancing. The God Father Of Disco.” This documentary is about a man very few of today’s younger set have ever heard of. A man by the name of Mel Cheren.
Mel was the man behind a seminal label called West End, the early investor in a little NYC club called “Paradise Garage” and supporter of a wee popular DJ named Larry Levan. He’s also the guy that worked with Tom Moulton on getting the first 12″ record to the marketplace. Mel’s place in the lineage of todays dance music industry can not be overstated. It is men like Mel Cheren and the David Mancusos of the 1970’s that inspired the likes of Frankie Knuckles. Who in turn laid the foundation for what we call house for the last 30+ years. In fact, it may arguable that Mel and Westend is a vital part of hip hop/rap history. Think of this period as a star going supernova. A brilliant flash of light and energy that travels light years in it’s reach and creates the building blocks for future stars that then give life on their own.
The documentary ought to be required viewing for anyone claiming to be in this industry. (See it here.)
Flash forward to last night when I started to see the links to the news about the purchase of Beatport. Mind you, my views to follow are less about Beatport as a single company and more about what this represents to the industry and more importantly the culture that it defines. As a label owner and artist I have ZERO issue with Beatport. I have a friend who works there and he’s all about music. He’s a lifer actually, everyone I have ever met from Beatport is nice, passionate, smart and deserving of respect. Try and hold off on the “Beatport sucks anyway” comments. They add nothing to the discussion and are not that smart. As a customer, I also spend my money there. Again, the views expressed herein are not about Beatport. They are about the pinnacle of a trend going for about 10-15 years now. What is that trend?
Let’s put Taibbi’s quite next to one from NYTimes music writer Ben Sisario’s report on the Beatport sale:
Matt Taibbi – “The world’s most powerful investment bank is a great vampire squid wrapped around the face of humanity, relentlessly jamming its blood funnel into anything that smells like money”.
Ben Sisario – “SFX Entertainment, the company led by the media executive Robert F. X. Sillerman, has agreed to buy the music download site Beatport, part of the company’s plan to build a $1 billion empire centered on the electronic dance music craze.”
Anything pop out to you there? It does to me. You see, what struck a chord to me in the Mel Cheren movie was contemplating a time where the leaders of a particular part of the industry were actually participants and creators in the culture. They were often the vanguard of creativity, taste, trend and style. They lived in it. They were it. Even in my early halcyon days of the early to mid ’90s, you had the cultural leaders enjoying commercial success from their work. There were few “carpetbaggers.”
Events like Wicked, Stompy, Funky Techno Tribe, Toon Town, etc, were created, run, nurtured and profited by those directly and deeply involved in the community. The same held true in the Mel Cheren era. These people lived and breathed the culture and their economic success was a result of the creative contributions they gave to the people.
What we have hear in this Beatport purchase is the reverse trend of the last decade +. That of pure economic exploitation of a counter-culture, the pasteurization of color, homosexuality, avant garde(ness), danger, edge. You know, all things that will scare average white americans and get in the way of higher ROI’s. Those that seek to buy out these companies do so with the same mentality Bain Capital seeks “opportunities” to “capitalize” on “trends” (aka craze). Much like Taibbi’s vampire squid, they will monopolize areas of the industry of highest return and devour the meat until only the carcass is left to fight over by the vultures in our culture. What we have now are MBAs making creative decisions. Carpetbaggers flying in on private jets to anoint the next big thing with the same techniques used to roll out a new soft drink product. Boardroom meetings and that special detachment to the history and culture of “their market” that only those in the elite class have.
Of course, it very well be that this is a uniquely American story. I’m not on the ground enough as a touring DJ playing in various sized venues and visiting local record stores to gauge the health of the dance music culture abroad. From the outside it appears as though it’s vibrant and flourishing. With opportunities available to a “middle” “class” of innovative, creative, hard working people create something wonderful for their community. We have a few left here in SF and the states as well. But from a long view of 22 years experiencing this culture, it seems the trend has become: Every year we lose a few more of those who have earned a place at the table while replacing them with consolidation, media mergers,buyouts and exploitative practices.
Before you select few chime in with “Stop worry and do your own thing. This does not matter” (I already know who you are). Let me state that I have been having private conversations for almost two years now with people that you would “assume’ are kicking ass. People that are making amazing modern music, running labels with great releases, great new artists. People that are working their asses off. Grinding, hustling, traveling, gigging, etc. All the things that you would tell someone to just “go do.” Even those held up as “doing it” are barely holding onto something worth doing. Like America, there used to exists a solid middle class in this culture. People who could pursue a passion, do it well, hell even do it locally only (hello Larry Levan) and earn enough to not be broke, invest in their craft and provide people joy from the ability to do what they were put on earth to do. Now we don’t. We have the 1% and the 99%. There are still different levels of the 99% but it ain’t the 1%.
And guess what, unless you are connected and have a million + to give to the 1%, your talent will not give you that access.
Most of my concern over this trend has been on the demise of any culture of dance music in America. There are some who will argue the point that mass exposure leads to more opportunities for all or that the business practices of the elite have no bearing on others. I would argue however that same trends we’ve seen with the mom and pop business trying to compete with the Wallmarts is what we are seeing in dance music land. You, see, we love $ in america. It’s our national religion. We love to have as much of it as we can. We love spend it we when we have and save it when we don’t. Because C.R.E.A.M (look it up), the huge media companies get to dictate what the industry does if the industry wants some of their $. This effects everything from booking fee’s for acts, access to artists, access to publishing rights, cost of entry for starting a business, access to promotional streams and local license and permit fees.
Over time it squeezes out the local businesses and leaves only the monolith. You ever travel through the states and pull into these little towns and all there is a Wal-mart, and a chain stores? The people in those towns are always sold a lie. Let us come here and “help” this town with tax revenue and jobs. Then the town gets no tax revenue and shitty low wage soul sucking jobs. It’s the same thing here with Clear Channel buying beatport. With Ultra buying the Salsoul & Westend Catalogs. With livenation dominating the landscape with it’s festivals. With local municipalities giving access and support to the large corporate entities while continuing to squeeze and pressure the small, local business.
Say what you will. I think this one little news item marks the official end the American dance music story. It’s over folks. Anything you thought was left in a real way is merely a hologram of what once was. In the current climate, we will not see the rise of another Mel Cheren, Larry Levan, Ron Hardy, shit, even the next Frankie Knuckles. Todays EDM is sterile, straight, un-offensive, milquetoast, and conformist. No one representing a true revolutionary spirit will be allowed on the big stage. If you doubt me, ask the Dixie Chicks how Clear Channel dealt with them the year after 9/11.
Localized Appreesh is our thank-you column to the musicians that make the Bay. To be considered, contact emilysavage@sfbg.com.
Sigur Rós, Explosions in the Sky, Radiohead, the Antlers – Oakland’s the Dandelion War has received some outsized, and crazy positive, comparisons and reviews during its four short years of existence, particularly thanks to 2012’s excellent, ambient We Were Always Loyal to Lost Causes (Deep Elm) LP.
All of it’s accurate, by the way. The Dandelion War makes mood music for the brain. The post-rock five-piece boasts the build ups and crescendos of Explosions, the alien echoing otherworldliness of mid-career Radiohead, the pleasing falsetto and hypnotic soundscapes of the Antlers, and tiny pulsing heartbeat and cave-deep reverb of a dewy Sigur Rós.
Check tracks “Drifters” and “The Devil’s Black Wool” off We Were Always Loyal to Lost Causes.
So now you need to see it live, right? The Dandelion War plays an enviable opening slot for the final Noise Pop show of this very Noise Poppy week, with Caspian at Bottom of the Hill Sun/3. First up, it took the Localized Appreesh challenge:
Year and location of origin: 2008, San Francisco (currently based in Oakland).
Band name origin: the name was taken from the title of a book by Richard Rosenthal.
Band motto: Good enough for government work.
Description of sound in 10 words or less: “It’s dreamy, shoegazey, and brimming with pathos: in short, lovely” (stolen from Inforty).
Most recent release:We Were Always Loyal to Lost Causes (Deep Elm, 2012).
Best part about life as a Bay Area band: The Bay Area has some incredible local bands and we love being part of that scene.
Worst part about life as a Bay Area band: Cities on the West Coast are so spread out that it’s really hard to tour.
First album ever purchased: (various answers from various band members, names withheld to preserve our dignity) A Hard Day’s Night by the Beatles, Burn Out by Slick Shoes, Appetite for Destruction by Gn’R
Most recent album purchased/downloaded: (same) News from Nowhere by Darkstar, Optica by Shout Out Louds, Glowing Mouth by Milagres Favorite local eatery and dish: Fonda (Albany) for duck tacos, Babalous Mediterranean (Walnut Creek) for the deluxe falafel, El Novillo Taco Truck (Oakland) for the chicken torta
The Dandelion War With Caspian, Native, Boyfrndz Sun/3, 5pm, $12 Bottom of the Hill 1233 17th St., SF www.bottomofthehill.com www.noisepop.com
Singer-songwriter (and former Geographer member) Kacey Johansing released her stunning sophomore album, Grand Ghosts, today. And how grand it is. Lush, moody, and dreamy, too. You can stream it now on her Soundcloud.
Along with Geographer, Johansing was also once a member of Honeycomb, and is currently one-half of experimental folk duo Yesway. Or, you might remember San Francisco’s Johansing from the Localized Appreesh column last fall, in which the Kalamazoo, Michigan-born, Colorado-raised musician told me: “I love it here so much and am incredibly grateful to be a part of such insanely talented, creative, and supportive musical community.”
There’s a welcome maturity to Johansing’s voice (oft favorably likened to that of Joni Mitchell and her kind), a confidence that glides over twinkling piano and subtle, far-away strings, in tracks such as album opener “River” and title track “Grand Ghosts,” the latter opening with a more somber, Amelie score-esque tinkling of the organ keys. In that track, Johansing sings of her wise grandparents and tales of Lake Michigan that build beautifully to a repeated promise “And in the end/if we can’t go on/we will carry each other home.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mo6kfV-2TUk
Johansing’s expert blend of classical, jazz, and folk influences comes together well on “Out to Sea,” with the subtle sound of fingers moving over downbeat acoustic guitar meeting Johansing’s melancholy, “I don’t want you to go/but I want you to be true/what’s best for me is not what’s best for you.” Even her harmonized “oh, oh, ohs,” sound emotive here, giving the sweetness a little gut-punch.
The haunting album as a whole pays tribute to loved ones that died during the making of the record (actual ghosts), along with her current Bay Area home, and her upbringing in Colorado (emotional ghosts), and features accompaniment by other local notables including Robert Shelton (of DRMS) on keyboards, Andrew Maguire (Honeycomb) on vibraphone and percussion, James Riotto (the Moanin Dove) on bass, Jeremy Harris on guitar, pianos, and string arrangements, and Ezra Lipp on drums.
The LP is available for purchase/download on her Bandcamp page, here.
Her next show is part of Noise Pop, of course: Kacey Johansing With Thao and the Get Down Stay Down, Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside, Before the Brave Sat/2, 8pm, sold out Great American Music Hall 859 O’Farrell, SF www.slimspresents.com
