Noise

Hump Day headliner: Six reasons to revisit Thee Oh Sees

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Hump Day headliner: Six reasons to revisit Thee Oh Sees

So maybe you’ve seen them before and maybe you haven’t. Thee Oh Sees — performing at El Rio tonight (Wed/10) with Ty Segall, The Fresh & Onlys, and The Baths — are no doubt a San Francisco garage-rock, lo-fi staple that demand you re-sample, swish, and spit for a full taste.

The sound is vintage rock and roll, psychedelic, and ratty. If you’re contemplating staying home on Wednesday night, find someone to give you a swift kiss in the ass and aim for El Rio. Did you really just ask why?

1.    Vocalist John Dwyer’s semi-psychotic lurching and mic swallowing always entertains.
2.    Hot rock chicks with sweat on their brow.
3.    Similar to an ideal one-night stand: Rough. Loud. Vicious. Dirty.
4.    There’s a chance Dwyer could bust out a flute.
5.    You’ll have a legit excuse to skip yoga (or work) in the morning.
6.    Cheap whisky and cheaper beer taste so much better mid-week.

Thee Oh Sees w/The Fresh & Onlys, Ty Segall, The Baths
Wed/10, 8pm, $7
El Rio
3158 Mission Street, SF
www.elriosf.com

iPod Voyeur: Holly Miranda’s top 10 most-played artists

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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iPod Voyeur: Holly Miranda’s top 10 most-played artists

A single moment of Holly Miranda’s voice has the capacity to freeze each and every muscle in your body for a good three to 35 minutes, causing your current plan of action to come to a furious halt, steering your concentration solely toward contemplating how on earth you haven’t been listening to Miranda’s music Monday to Sunday and back again.

The New York solo artist is currently on tour with Canadian sisters Tegan and Sara, but will be making a solo stop at the Café du Nord tonight (Tue/9), a perfect opportunity to have your mind blown by beauty. Formerly of the band The Jealous Girlfriends, Miranda is bringing her solo project The Magician’s Private Library (XL) to eager listeners, reminding them of the butterflies anxiously fluttering in their stomachs the first time they heard Nina Simone or Cat Power.

Delicate whispers of slumber and tangled dreams, abstract lyrics rising to an emotion-driven falsetto: Miranda’s music was made for your lungs, to be breathed in and out, fully entering your body as one element and leaving as another. Curious to know where the songstress derives her current inspiration, I asked Miranda to offer up the artists on her iPod’s Top Ten Most Played:

1.    Little Dragon
2.    The Antlers
3.    Sade
4.    Nina Simone
5.    The xx
6.    Fela Kuti
7.    Neon Indian
8.    Lee Hazlewood
9.    Jenny Wilson
10.     Eferklang

It’s a lot to take in, but shows the ravenous breadth of this up-and-comer’s interests.

Holly Miranda
w/Foxtail Somersault and Tortured Genies
Tues/9, 8:30pm
Café Du Nord
2174 Market Street, SF
www.cafedunord.com

Laura Veirs gets excited for summer

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Laura Veirs gets excited for summer

Classic finger-picking and Laura Veirs’ girly vocals characterize the feather-light songs she’s written about sweet summer days on her seventh album, July Flame. The songs explore desire and happiness in stripped-down folk form, caressing questionable emotions with scents of firewood smoke, extended sunshine, and humid mid-summer evenings – all named after a variety of peach Veirs spied at her local farmer’s market. After 10 years in the music business, touring is nothing new to the Portland artist, but the trip supporting this album is different for two reasons: first, this album is being called her best; and second, Veirs is eight months pregnant. I caught Veirs on the phone on a Sunday afternoon, when she was taking a break at her parents’ place in Colorado, to chat about the album and the experience of touring while expecting.

“I’ve been really tired,” she says, noting she’s made lots of time for rest and good food. “And I can’t lift the amps.” Also, her huge baby bump pushes her guitar out at an awkward angle. Otherwise, though, the mom-to-be says touring prego hasn’t been much trouble. As for the album, she offered a few thoughts, compiled below in list form:

  • Veirs listened to The Beatles, The Shins, and lots of country-blues while writing July Flame.
  • Veirs isn’t a fan of writing expeditions, but she does like to “go out into the world and be awake.”
  • Her favorite place to visit: The Gorge for seagazing and Forest Park for an inner-city woodsy retreat
  • She and the band are currently covering Fleetwood Mac’s “Never Goin’ Back Again.”
  • July Flame is being called her best work and she agrees. “It’s taken me a long time to feel comfortable singing,” she says, “but I think there’s finally an underlying relaxed quality to my voice.”
  • The album often references smoke and flame, and nighttime creatures like bats and moths that fly around in the night pollinating.
  • Although summer is the overarching theme, the album’s mood isn’t all smiles. “It can be melancholy any time of year,” she says. “This album features a variety of emotions, not all just happy.”
  • Veirs wrote songs for July Flame on a variety of instruments, including a baritone guitar, banjo, and piano. She says, “It’s like changing colors or mediums as an artist, or switching to watercolors instead of oil paints.”

Laura Veirs w/Halls of Flames

Wed/10, 9pm

$15

Café du Nord

2174 Market, SF

www.cafedunord.com

Sonic Reducer Overage: Holly Miranda, Quasi, SambaDa, and more

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Rain, rain go away — and gird your damp loins for more music than we could fit into print.

Holly Miranda
The Detroit-bred singer-songwriter sleeps on fire, walks on water, judging from the angelic Magician’s Private Library (XL), produced by her pal Dave Sitek. With Foxtail Somersault and Tortured Genies. Tues/9, 9:30 p.m., $10. Cafe du Nord, 2170 Market, SF. (415) 861-5016.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
The Bay Area-born band hones a rawer, more rustic sound with a new drummer, Leah Shapiro, and new long-player, Beat the Devil’s Tattoo (Abstract Dragon/Vagrant). With the Whigs (and Cellar Doors Wed/10). Tues/9, 8 p.m., Wed/10, 7:30 p.m., $30. Slim’s, 333 11th St., SF. (415) 522-0333. Wed/10, 6 p.m., free. Amoeba Music, 1855 Haight, SF. (415) 831-1200.


Quasi
The finest tune with the title “Repulsion” since Dinosaur Jr.’s opens the new American Gong (Kill Rock Stars) by the duo-turned-trio. Wed/10, 8 p.m., $12-$14. Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. (415) 771-1422.

Basia Bulat
She’s the sweetest autoharp-strumming songwriter to blow down from Toronto in many a day. Wed/10, 9 p.m., $12. Hotel Utah, 500 Fourth St., SF. (415) 546-6300.

Balkan Beat Box
Gogol playthings will break out those bellydance moves for the gypsy-punk-electronic super-colliding offshoot. Mon/15, 8 p.m., $22.50. Fillmore, 1805 Geary, SF. (415) 346-6000.

SambaDa
Dance is at the root of the Santa Cruz combo, led by capoeira master Papiba Godinho — and dance they all will at this show celebrating the release of the new self-released Gente! Sat/13, 9 p.m., Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. (415) 771-1422.

Live Shots: El Perro Del Mar and Taken By Trees, Café du Nord, 3/2/10

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Back in the early ’90s, when MTV played video after video and I was still a kid, I remember seeing tall, hot chicks like Sarah Assbring, the sole member of El Perro Del Mar, flash across the screen, dancing to Axl Rose and Aerosmith. Taking the stage, Assbring immediately struck me as a rock video model, her bright blonde hair chopped off with a stiff asymmetrical edge, lips dark with black-red lipstick, and lids full of smoky shadow. I was immediately envious of her black silky jumper, stitched with an oversupply of fabric under the sleeves that made for the perfect raven wings whenever she lifted her arms.

The sounds of El Perro Del Mar are always sweet and shy, much like the musician herself. She said very little and smiled even less, and yet had me wrapped around her every breath. When she sang, her eyes focused intently on an unknown object in the back of the room, with her eyebrows at a constant downward angle. Often she would raise her hands into the air or send them straight out in front of the mic, nearly reaching the fans in front. She was intense.

Highlights were “A Change of Heart,” which was as delightful live as it is on Love is Not Pop, and “Gotta Get Smart.” After singing the lyrics to the breakup anthem,, Assbring posed a question to the crowd: “Have you ever had your heart broken?”

“Two times,” a man in the front row answered.
“Will you ever be able to love again?” she asked him directly.
“I already have…thanks to you.”

The crowd giggled and awed; Assbring blushed and started “A Better Love” almost immediately. Near the end of the set she covered The XX’s “Shelter,” giving the song a smoky, jazzy twist that continued to build and build until its rushing end. When the set finished, the crowd cheered and yelped, hoping that the double-headliner show would still allow for an encore. Assbring and the band returned,  thanking the crowd for requesting their return with an ABBA-esque number, setting the perfect mood for Taken By Trees.

A multitude of drums and mallets filled the space with African beats, inviting Victoria Bergsman, the solo singer who takes on the name Taken By Trees onto the dark stage. After the first song finished and the crowd cheered, Bergsman’s wild eyes searched the room. A naughty smirk swept across her lips.

“I heard a wolf in the crowd and now I know where you are.”

In terms of energy, Bergsman’s songs were a stark contrast to El Perro Del Mar. Reminding of Lion King, with feel-good micro melodies galloping left and right, I wanted to dance and leap.

Bergsman dedicated a song to a dear friend, encouraged the crowd to clap, and consistently closed her eyes while she sang, often folding her hands in front of her. She was still and mischievous, always looking like she was planning her next cat attack.

Telling the crowd of her tour of San Francisco earlier that day, she explained that she was falling in love with the area.

“I’m thinking about moving here. Should I move here?” she playfully asked the crowd. Without a delay, the place burst into a mess of encouragement.

Noise Pop 2010: Loquat at BOTH; Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros at Bimbo’s

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Loquat at Bottom of the Hill

The San Francisco band started their set with a request for more blue lighting at the Bottom of the Hill Friday Feb. 27, half-joking and half-hoping to make things look “cooler” and more “ocean-like.” Loquat has been playing their brand of electro-pop in the Bay Area for almost a decade and therefore I was expecting some really sweet synth action as a precursor to headlining band, Memory Tapes. Instead, racing guitars and strong bass muddled all of my most favorite parts of Loquat’s soun: the subtle waving melodies and vocalist Kylee Swenson’s floating lyrics. Their newfound heavier sound translated into a rock version of L.A.’s Bitter:Sweet, with tons of energy that twinkled over the crowd like the venue’s vintage Christmas lights.

Throughout the set, Swenson’s voice was crisp and beautiful as always, trading between songs from their 2008 release, Secrets of the Sea and older tracks revived from years passed. “Harder Hit” and “Sit Sideways” were definitely the highlights of the show, a promising couple of songs that never fail to sting and caress simultaneously with Swenson’s solid range and complimentary smooth guitars. The dainty piano plunks and slight echoes were exactly the details I had been longing to hear. And just before I closed my eyes, I noticed all four members of the band had already done so, concentrating and enjoying the moment just as much as the packed crowd. 

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros at Bimbo’s 365

Ten people and double the number of instruments cluttered the stage as Los Angeles’ Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros began their set of folk-rock revival. The smell of sweet grass wafted over the sold-out crowd on Feb. 28, trumpet melodies, accordions, tambourines, and all the rest blaring triumphant anthems as the group of musicians jumped and danced around in circles. The room was overflowing with endorphins, everyone smiling and bouncing around like we had collectively discovered the fountain of youth.

I was filled with butterflies while watching vocalists Alex Ebert (a.k.a. the fictitious character Edward Sharpe) and Jade Castrinos interact, reminding me of the romantic fuzzies I felt when watching the fairytale love story between Titanic’s Jack and Rose. The winking, smiling and flirtatious affection was constant between the two and it really hit during “Home”, their whistle-laden love duet.

The vocal couple could have been the mom and pop of the Magnetic Zeros; a group that could have easily been one that stumbled out of a Portland farming co-op. Ebert’s scruffy beard, dangling red scarf and strangely patterned pants (which he said were a present from a friend that came “pre-dirted,” just the way he likes) fit right in with the rest of the group’s sweet vintage duds. Miss Castrinos looked like a charming child from the ’30s, her pixie cut paired perfectly with pinned-up oversized dress, complete with white bib.

The set list included lots of slow, ’60s style rock ballads, of which Ebert prefaced by shouting “It’s time to get serious”, the disco ball slowly casting reflections over what should have been a dance hall in a Western canyon. The show was equal parts sexy and like being with one huge Mormon family, with a sense of community, peace, and love sewn into every note.

My only complaint: not enough from Castrinos’ beautiful vocal cords. She is fantastic and it’s hard to believe such a rough, Joplin-esque voice bellows from that little body. She did sing one song on her own that was pure delight. “Isn’t it nice to be in San Francisco,” she asked Ebert, in her shy speaking voice. “It’s so magical here.” The set ended with Ebert asking a few people to come up on stage and sit down. Then he convinced the entire crowd to also take a seat— he suggested on one another’s laps so that no one would have to sit on the floor. An entire room of people together, hugging, humming and holding hands. I’ve never been to a show that quite mastered the feeling of togetherness that Edward Sharpe did. San Francisco is magical? I think they brought a little magic of their own…

Five Questions: Sara talks, minus Tegan

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Five Questions: Sara talks, minus Tegan

It’s been 12 years and the two adorable Canadian Twins are still making perfectly pleasant, political pop. Their latest album, Sainthood, is a stellar collection of matured, electronically hinged tracks that never fail to get stuck in your head. The sassy duo plays at the Fox in Oakland Friday and are sure to reign in a full crowd of Bay Area queer ladies.

It’s hard not to fall for Tegan and Sara, their cute haircuts, charming smirks, and songs that seem to nuzzle up to any mood. And these ladies put on an awesome show with mouthfuls of quirky conversation and honest, adorable blabbing about all sorts of intelligent topics.

Before setting up shop at venue in Austin, Sara took a few minutes to let me in a few tour secrets and proved that her hilariously eccentric stage presence isn’t an act in the slightest.

SFBG: Name a song you’ve had on repeat this week.
SARA: Four Tet, “Angel Echoes”

SFBG: The most impressive meal you’ve had on the tour?
SARA: New Orleans, duck and sausage jambalaya

SFBG: Your must-visit spot in San Francisco?
SARA: City Lights Bookstore

SFBG: A recent exciting addition to your wardrobe?
SARA: I’ve stopped wearing jeans recently, but when I was in New York I had a moment where I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t have any jeans. Like, who did I think I was fooling? So I bought a pair of jeans and I’m wearing them right now.

SFBG: Any new tattoos? Or plans for a new tat?
SARA: I’m planning. I have an appointment with my favorite artist in Portland to finish up a piece that will take up nearly half of my arm. Sometimes I want to get rid of them all, and other times I want to finish them. An ex-girlfriend keeps telling me I’m just over analyzing myself because I’m single—I’m dating myself. When you’re dating someone, you get positive affirmation from someone who loves you. Do you like my tattoos? Yes. Am I a bum? No. But now, I have to tell myself I’m not a bum in the mirror.

Tegan and Sara

Fri/5, 8pm

$35

Fox Theater

1807 Telegraph, Oakl.

www.thefoxoakland.com

Live Shots: Four Tet, The Independent, 2/26/10

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That beat. It was all about that beat. And everyone had filled up the Independent theater on February 26 to hear Four Tet’s hypnotic beats all night long. His new album, There Is Love in You, was released last month and Four Tet joined several other electronic groups last Friday on one of the closing nights of the SF Noise Pop festival. Looking like a mad scientist, tangled amongst endless cables and blinking techno-gizmo’s, Four Tet honed in on some marvelous beats that made everyone on the dance floor shake their money-makers. The evening started with a three other electrifying numbers, that included Nathan Fake, New Villager, and Rainbow Arabia, who also contributed some breathtaking beats to an evening of electronically charged music.

Noise Pop 2010: Magnetic Fields at the Fox

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Spare but touching, playful yet perched oh-so-formally on chairs with music and notes on hand, accomplished and unafraid of the occasional sour or dissonant note. Yep, that’s the Magnetic Fields.

The ensemble had the sold-out mob in their precious paws on Feb. 27 at Fox Theater — from opener “Lindy-Lou,” off the 6th’s Hyacinths and Thistles to “Falling in Love with the Wolfboy” to a haunting version of “Acoustic Guitar.” “Yes,” yowled one fan when the group announced “I Don’t Want to Get Over You.” Even the group’s “B” set (the “A” set list will be performed at the March 1 Herbst show) was, as Claudia Gonson put it, teeming with “awesomeness.”

The combo could do no wrong — magnetism worked in its favor, though you got the impression that the band was still working out the kinks, still psychically at the start of their tour. They were a bit casual, a bit messy — Stephin Merritt sticking to ukulele and Gonson pointing up helpfully when she’d try and miss that exact right high note.
Overall it was lesser-known player Shirley Simms on autoharp and sweet, sweet vocals that particularly plucked at audience heartstrings. Meanwhile guitarist John Woo and cellist Sam Davol kept it the melodies in line admirably, and Lemony Snicket author Daniel Handler lurked in the deep background, on squeezing out small, subtle textures on the accordion.

And why pick any nits when the songs’ sheer wit were capable of withered all reservations away. Off-key instances, off-kilter jokes about child prostitution, and such wonderfully right-on songs — in the end, the pleasure was ours, warts and all.

Noise Pop 2010: Scout Niblett, Sonny and the Sunsets at Cafe du Nord

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More impressions of Noise Pop, comin’ right up.

Blame it on a lingering head cold but I was bummed that I had to skulk off before Citay took the stage on Feb. 25 at Cafe du Nord. I got there just in time for Niblett, however: the Portland, Ore., performer was a solo powerhouse, conjuring estrogen-fueled might with a plaintive wail and some blissfully crunchy riffs for a packed house. At the risk of waxing rockist, I only wished it were even louder and harder.

The next day Sonny and the Sunsets hit the sweet spot at Cafe du Nord with some great garage rock. Why aren’t we all listening to “Death Cream” and “Stranded” on some fantastic, nonexistent radio station? And how much more fun can this Sonny Smith project — part Kelley Stoltz band, part Citay, part Fresh and Onlys — get? Smith’s songs hark to some of my favorite veins of ‘50s sentimental pop and ‘70s dirty rock, and with this lineup the stars appear to be aligned. Need more proof? The back of the room was riddled with girls dancing among themselves, swaying to the music.

The Growlers — sprawling and shaggy, with plentiful volume — had the misfortune of following S&S, but don’t feel to sorry for them. A good portion of the crowd — supporters and family, no doubt? — bellied up to the front to document the proceedings.

Noise Pop 2010: Yoko Ono and Deerhoof at the Fox

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Noise Pop — the quality sounds and sonic surprises always amaze, no matter how few or many shows you catch.

I didn’t get to gawk at as much as I’d like, considering I was suffering from a bad case of the sniffles. Still, Yoko Ono, live with the Plastic Ono Band on Feb. 23 at Fox Theater, was nothing to sniff at.

Deerhoof opened with a softer, more subdued set than usual. The Bay Area faves seemed a mite overwhelmed by the big room and opulent surroundings: drummer-founder Greg Saunier said as much as he pondered how “pretty” the venue is. Nevertheless the combo quickly gained steam and confidence, as Satomi Matsuzaki twirled, danced, and gestured on the side of the stage and the entire group switched instruments and uncharacteristically tackled a few covers (the Ramones’ “Pinhead” and Canned Heat’s “Going Up the Country,” the latter dovetailing perfectly with Saunier’s ethereal falsetto). I like my Deerhoof louder, in a more intimate venue, but the band was the perfect choice to prep the audience for Ono.
The lady herself contextualized her place in pop and conceptual art: a video montage unfurled a lengthy, select overview of her career. When she finally arrived onstage, yes, she screeched, yowled, chattered, and generated more noise than melody. Those vocables are some of her major contributions to the rock canon — and her ooh’s, aaach’s, and howls sounded just as challenging today, if more familiar to ears trained to the ‘00s underground.

There were quiet elegiac moments, in the form of, for instance, the beautiful new “Higa Noboru,” as Ono slipped easily into chanteuse mode and son Sean Lennon accompanying her on piano. The ace Plastic Ono Band tackled a good share of Ono’s latest album, **Between My Head and the Sky** — tracks like “Healing, “Waiting for the D Train,” and “The Sun Is Down” — throwing in a fabulously playful cartoon video and a turn by virtual reality pioneer, writer, and composer Jaron Lanier on Laotian flute, sitar, and shakuhachi.

Lennon said he met Lanier as a 10-year-old and marveled then at how many instruments Lanier knew how to play. “Jaron said the key to learning so many instruments is to believe time doesn’t exist,” quipped Lennon.

And Plastic Ono Band’s rendition of “Death of Samantha” and “Mind Train” made time stand still in the best way possible. The former, a bittersweet rocker that ended with Ono standing stock-still at center stage, was played for the second time live (the first was at the Plastic Ono Band performance in NYC earlier in February), and the latter was likely the highlight of the evening, mesmerizing with its free-floating, unfurling **Bitches Brew**-style funk.

The finale or second encore began with an Onochord flash-along: tiny disposable flashlights marked with the date and venue were left on at our seats at the start of the show, ready to flicker “I love you” in code toward the stage. But the “Give Peace a Chance” sing-along with Petra Haden and Deerhoof soon eclipsed even that. Sloppy, ragged, moving — it was the icing on the cake. We piled onto the BART, storm or no storm, feeling struck by lightning and energized by what we had just witnessed.

Live Shots: Zee Avi, Rickshaw Stop, 2/25/10

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For the 3rd night of the SF Noise Pop festival, three bands shared the stage with Zee Avi at Rickshaw Stop. Noise Pop is such a marathon of music, with each band rushing on stage, setting up their equipment, rocking out for about eight songs and moving aside to make room for the subsequent performers. Luckily through all this movement and music, each group really held their own and the audience kept begging for encores that were never possible.

The night started with Tiny Television, who was accompanied by singer Jen Korte. The band had a folksy sound and their songs were rich and warm. Their slide guitar player was pure genius and with the whole band wearing cowboy boots this group was totally country cool.

Then came the Leslie and The Badgers, hailing from LA. Leslie and her gaggle of boys also hit some great country notes and Leslie’s voice had magical pieces of Dolly Parton and Patsy Cline sprinkled though out it. The highlight of their set was a sing-a-long piece about how it’s ok to hurt somebody, just remember to say you’re sorry.

The four cute girls in the Hot Toddies belted out surf songs and got the audience so energized that they all started to jump and bounce around just like bubble gum! The Hot Toddies were totally crowd-pleasers with their hilarious lyrics about everything from dating old guys on the internet, to the seriousness of a wet dream and how Seattle makes them totally horny. Sweet!

And finally, just a bit before midnight, Zee Avi made her way on stage, to sing us sad songs about drugged out boyfriends and happy songs about true romance found outside a bee hive. She’s so cool and her voice is so lovely, making for the perfect ending after an extreme evening of awesome, almost never-ending, music.

Lucky 7: Listening in on the Strange Boys

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Lucky 7: Listening in on the Strange Boys

The Strange Boys (playing at the Elbo Room on Sat/27) are as brave and cocky as their music would suggest, an obvious product of the southern state they call home. Hailing from Austin, Texas, their “don’t mess” attitude harmonizes perfectly with wailing garage rock and humid twang. Ryan Sambol’s nasally vocals remind me of a young Bob Dylan and complement the band’s ’60s sound. 

The four Texans started making music together in high school and have since developed a sound easily categorized alongside The Monks, The Seeds, The Black Lips, and San Francisco’s Girls. The tracks off their debut full length, The Strange Boys and Girls Club (In the Red), were recorded at their friend Orville’s house in Denton. They scratch and squeak, transmitted through an AM radio style filter, instructing listeners to throw back a few brews on the porch and let cigarettes burn down to their lips.

The Strange Boys don’t want to be the next hipster trend. They strive to be an outlet for escaping all the horrible shit that surrounds our daily lives: war, a rotting economy, and a twisted government. Standing atop their rusty soap box, the boys demand you stop your bitching and moaning long enough to hear what their guitars have to say.

I was curious about their sources of inspiration. Bassist Philip Sambol was kind enough to scribble down some items from of the member’s current playlists:

1. Abner Jay, various songs on some tapes

2. A mix tape a fan gave Ryan

3. Townes Van Zandt, Live at the Old Quarter, Houston, Texas (Tomato, 1977/ Fat Possum, 2009)

4. John ‘Bloodcut’ Joseph, The Evolution of a Cro Magnon (PUNKHOuse) audiobook

5. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, season four

6. The Savage Love podcast

7. CCR
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4R6nmKjcSeU

The Strange Boys
Sat/27, 9 p.m., $10
Elbo Room
647 Valencia, SF.
www.elbo.com

Snap Sounds: ApSci

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Snap Sounds: ApSci

APSCI

Best Crisis Ever

(Quannum Projects)

Kudos go out for the NYC-Australian ApSci for not so much keeping it real but plenty surreal. The hip-hop-electro duo takes it further out on their second Quannum full-length — and into a motor-mouthed, frantic future.

Collaborators Dana Diaz-Tutaan amd Raphael LaMotta dive into spastic wavo bop (“Under Control,” “Cubic Zirconia”), Lady Gaga-esque pop (“Crazy Crazy Insane,” “Let’s RIP the Town Up”), and broody raps (“Afford Me This Poetry”), with a brief sidetrip(-hop) to old-school REM (“Swan Swan H”). The overall effect equals banging fun, while retaining a palpable sense of the personal. And long may the drama continue at Camp ApSci.

Live Shots: K.Flay, Bottom of the Hill, 02/21/2010

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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After braving crummy weather and the odd timing of her Sunday night show, I finally got to see my new favorite female rapper K.Flay live. To be honest, K.Flay a San Franciscan by way of Illinois, is way more than just a rapper. She makes her own beats, mash-ups, and plays guitar, in addition to rocking a mic and a party.


I originally stumbled across her mixtape “Mashed Potatoes,” a 12 song mash-up album in which she tweaked some classics for exciting results. Put it in your CD player while driving across the Bay Bridge and you’ll discover that a Red Hot Chili Peppers’ classic was ripe for K.Flay’s interpetation in “On the Bridge.” She also flips Eminem’s “Crack a Bottle,” as a dedication to her favorite drink, Vanilla Coke (in a bottle not a can).

The show had a pretty good turnout for a rainy Sunday night. While I showed up a little late, K.Flay already had the crowd jumping around by switching off between rapping, making live beats, and playing guitar. Despite a few technical difficulties, she moved the show along, held the crowd’s attention, and kept her cool at the same time. Go, K.Flay.

(Lack of) grace at EpiscoDisco

John Elberling
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(Lack of) grace at EpiscoDisco

It was bound to happen. Some girl in a white coat tagged Grace Cathedral.

One thousand flowers were suspended from above as an art installation while I watched Nodzzz run through a collection of songs. The band described the outing as the first time they had ever held a microphone in church. I took that as confirmation they weren’t pastors or priests in their previous line of work. As soon as their set was done someone, maybe the event’s organizer, got on the microphone and had a startling announcement to make. He informed us that this may have been the final installment of EpiscoDisco because the woman in white, who he accused of “probably tripping on acid,” had vandalized the church. The man on the mic rhetorically told us that in the event’s one-year history, no such disrespect had ever occurred up until now, and that the future of the monthly get-together was now in doubt, as the church’s leadership would likely frown upon that night’s incident. He described what she had done and what she was wearing. To be honest, I sort of feared for the girl, because it sounded as if this guy was hoping for a lynch mob or at least some sort of immediate repercussions for her actions. He seemed pretty pissed, and if he was to be held responsible, I’d say rightfully so.

The church is one of those buildings a San Francisco resident is likely to take for granted. Grace’s occupation would normally be limited to parishioners or tourists, but its gothic majesty opens engraved chamber-like doors once a month on Saturday evenings, allowing a curious bunch of unlikely visitors to roam freely, seemingly unsupervised. Maybe it’s my Catholic upbringing, but something about the whole thing just seems so backwards. Disco scenesters mix it up with the garage rock crowd with drinks in their hands and stained glass windows in the background? Same-sex couples sharing intimate secrets littered among long rows of pews? Hipsters dressed (in their Sunday best?) ogling a giant crimson version of the holy bible all within the Episcopalian version of the house of the lord? It was madness. It seemed so wrong. Really, what would Jesus do?

Who could blame the girl? Before the culprit’s act was publicly announced, I myself was tempted to do something drastic in iconoclastic fashion. In fact, I did voice my fantasy out loud to my friend, saying I wanted to tag or at least tip something over. I’m sure some of those feelings were just residual teenage angst from the aforementioned upbringing of religion’s expectations of conformity and control. However, whereas I was a talker, the woman in white was a walker. Without inhibition she let loose in the form of either spray paint or maybe one of those Magnum markers. One friend thought she smelled something funny, but figured someone had light up a cig indoors. I never saw (nor smelled) her work of attempted ecclesiastical immortalization, but her sacrilegious act made her instantly notorious and got her bounced. We could only wonder what compelled her to do it. What did she have to say? My guess was “666,” even if it is a bit cliché, while another friend suggested she graffiti-ed “This church rulz.” In any event and quite unceremoniously, she attempted to re-enter the place of worship, but to no avail.

People filtered out of the cathedral slowly, just as they had been asked, while flamboyantl men with interesting haircuts decked out in leopard-print ensembles continued to berate the alleged vandal on their way out. As far as they were concerned, their EpiscoDisco was to suffer an uncertain future. So much for the church’s youth outreach program, but it was nice while it lasted. I guess we’ll just have to stay tuned.

Snap Sounds: Kammerflimmer Kollektief

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Snap Sounds: Kammerflimmer Kollektief

KAMMERFLIMMER KOLLEKTIEF

Wildling

(Staubgold, released March 2)

At first sonic glimmer, Germany’s Kammerflimmer Kollektief wax too softly, too New Agedly to stir many passions apart from recollections of browsing self-help bookstores and listening a mite too closely to the soundtrack of a massage.
But this gently unfolding, boldly meditative recording by Thomas Weber, Heike Aumuller, and Johannes Frisch (Weber’s initial bedroom-recording project, which later morphed into a sixpiece collective, has found its latest, likely most efficient incarnation as a threesome) manages to harness a quiet power — consolidated with mere piano, double bass, synthesizer, guitar, electronics, and harmonium — in service of something far much more insinuating than most music that purports to rock. Numbers like “There’s a Crack in Everything” build with a cunning care that seems designed to explode into some sort of shattered noise free-fall, yet that never quite happens in Kammerflimmer Kollektief’s universe — and Wildling is all the better for its makers’ lack of artifice. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tOW1FMnsYc

Noise Pop: A last-minute slacker’s guide

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Noise Pop: A last-minute slacker’s guide

An exhausting week of show after show has arrived, and it’s hard to say no to such a thick lineup of interesting indie. That is, if you had a choice. If you’ve already got your tickets, my mother would be proud. If you are among the league of last-minute fools, be forewarned — you are officially SOL (insert Debbie Downer “whaw whaw” here). Lots of shows are sold out, including almost everything I had my eye on: Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zones, Loquat, Best Coast, Zee Avi, Atlas Sound, Four Tet, Mirah… So, if you’re like me and staggering to find your place in Noise Pop, here’s a guide to what’s best of what’s left.

WED/24

The Ghost of a Saber Toothed Tiger (Sean Lennon, Charlotte Kemp Muhl w/Cornelus)

Sean Lennon has always put me to sleep — not because he’s boring, but because his voice is pure lullaby. When he’s not helping out his mom, Yoko Ono, or playing sweet songs on his own, Lennon has put his heart into singing with his sweetie, hottie model Charlotte Kemp Muhl. The members of Cornelius will join the lovebirds on stage for pure ambient, twinkling folk everyone should eat with a spoon. 7pm, $20, The Independent

Foreign Born

Four guys and lots of galloping, hustling, clanking percussion, all kept up with audible aptitude. Foreign Born is low key, lyrical indie that knows when to tap into its intimate side and explore the more subtle jems. Think Vampire Weekend with a dash of folk rock. With The Fresh and Onlys. 8pm, $14, all ages, Rickshaw Stop
 
Film: P-Star Rising

Priscilla is nine years old, totally adorable, and totally badass. The tiny MC grabs the mic with no fear, rapping about her single dad, dead-beat mom and the joys of being a rap star before puberty. From kid to underage celeb status, the family struggles to keep it real while chasin’ the dream. 9:15pm, $10, all ages, Roxie Theater

 

THU/25

Film: The Heart is a Drum Machine

Nearly everyone is at least semi-obsessed with music and this feature documentary attempts to discover what it is about notes and tones that feel so good. The film has quite an impressive stack of celebrities and scientists, all offering their opinions and personal love affairs with the art form, including Elijah Wood, Jason Schwartzman, and crazy woman Juliette Lewis. 9:30pm, $10, all ages, Viz Cinema

 

FRI/26

Nurses

A Portland trio of whistles and wonderful sounds, Nurses craft songs with the leaves and sticks and stones they find in every corner. Looping and sampling these oddities, they make beautiful and inquisitive melodies that remind one of owls and environmentally friendly attitudes. With John Vanderslice, Honeycomb, Conspiracy of Venus. 7pm, $15, Swedish American Hall
 
The Art of Noise, Soiree featuring Shlomo

Heavy bass means weighty pours, right? The Art of Noise will surely light up your Friday night, with deep dance sounds and nods of hip hop. Shlomo is California based and full of genre bending material, poorly categorized as experimental, with full on low tones, synth kicks and lazer bites. 5pm, free, Project One

 

SAT/27

Pop ‘n’ Shop

Gotta look hot for the rest of Noise Pop weekend! More than 40 local designers, snacks and booze for all your perusing. 12pm-5pm, free, all ages, The Verdi Club

Music For Animals

They’re local and totally weird in a good way. Music for Animals is slightly funny and yet remains to be musically sound with sparky guitars and pop-friendly choruses. The quartet loves keeping it cool with their SF musical comrades and love to please their Bay fans. With Nico Vega, The Soundtrack of Our Lives, and Imaad Wasif. 7pm, $16, The Independent
 
!!! and My First Earthquake

It doesn’t matter if you’re not sure how to pronounce the band’s punctuation happy name (chk-chk-chk), they’re damn good and full of electronic, relentless energy. Bring a bandana for that embarrassing sweat dripping down your nose and you’ll be a happy dancer. San Francisco band My First Earthquake is equally stellar synth-pop, sewn with catchy lyrics and a perfectly feisty front-woman. With Maus Haus and Sugar and Gold. 7pm, $20, Mezzanine

Live Shots: De La Soul, Yoshi’s Fillmore, 02/12/2010

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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By Chhavi Nanda

Word came that De La Soul’s flight was delayed, but they’d still make it. Anticipation levels rose to a fever pitch in the crowd. Fumes from the blunt smoke hazed the faces of the eager fans. Then finally, they made their entrance on to stage chanting “De La” with the audience responding with a unison scream “Soul!”

Hip-hop legends and creators of one of the greatest albums ever (1989’s 3 Feet High and Rising), De La Soul put on a gonzo show at Yoshi’s in the Fillmore. As soon as I arrived, I got on to the dance floor and scurried to the front. I was standing next to two men, one of whom told me, “We’ve been waiting for this shit for 10 years.” They came ready to wave their hands in the air, and were well-equipped with all the necessary paraphernalia for a De La Soul gig. The man next to me had a pair of De La Soul Nikes in his bag, never worn, and a silver sharpie, which the band members used to autograph them.  He was accompanied by his cousin with an old cassette of Buhloone Mindstate, De La Soul’s third full-length, produced by Prince Paul, which was also signed.

De La Soul worked the nostalgia hard, summoning the golden age of hip-hop with its characteristic innovative wordplay and almost hallucinogenic diversity of metaphor.The crowd was reminded how far back (and ahead) we all were from Gucci Mane.

The V.I.P.’s may have revelled in their loft seats, but the heart and soul of the show was on the dance floor. De La Soul set a reminiscent feeling through everyone’s bodies, singing and flowing joints we hadn’t heard in years. Tracks from 2009 mixtape Are you In: Nike + Original Run, produced by Flosstradamus, fit seamlessly into the flow and got the crowd crazy. The effect was timeless — and sweat-drenched.

Snap Sounds: Elephant9

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Snap Sounds: Elephant9

ELEPHANT9

Walk the Nile

(Rune Grammofon)

Norwegian power trio Elephant9 lays on the acid-laced, “wildly cavorting in fields of fusion” prog — light on the kraut and pop, more in tune with the jazz — on their second long-player, Walk the Nile.

The focus here is the Hammond organ, rising above the group’s furious improvisations and unpredictable tonal shifts. Keyboardist Stale Storlokken (Supersilent), drummer Torstein Lofthus (Shining), and bassist Nikolai Eilertsen (National Bank) rove through such varied jams as the manic, Melt Banana-eesh “Hardcore Orientale” and the more ruminative, slow-building “Habanera Rocket,” like it’s the most natural thing in their wild kingdom. Long may these Scandinavian powers roam.

Live Shots: Erykah Badu with Dave Chapelle and Goapele, Fox Theater, 02/19/2010

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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It’s 1998 and I’m on a trans-Pacific flight to Japan with my mom to visit my “Japanese grandma” Kiyo. I’ve just received my first mix tape from my super-cool older “sister” Leenie, with cuts on it that range from the Runaway Bride soundtrack to Sash!’s Encore Une Fois. And then there’s one of the last tracks, “On and On” by Erykah Badu. I blast this tape on my walkman for almost the whole 17-hour flight and play it throughout the trip, from bullet train rides through lush fields of tea plants to visually overstimulating jaunts in the neon-saturated neighborhood of Shinjuku in Tokyo.


So when Erykah Badu performed on Friday night at the Fox Theater, to a sold-out audience, nostalgia was running through me at full force — and probably not just for me, but also for a few others in the audience. Dressed in an excessive amount of layers, Badu took the stage with poise and energy, after a surprise introduction by Dave Chapelle. With her fifth album coming out in March, titled New Amerykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh), Badu had a confidence on stage that can only come after years of performing in front of adoring audiences. She also seemed to be having a lot fun with her music, introducing the eerie sound of the theremin into her pieces.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CPCs7vVz6s

Goapele, hailing from Oakland, opened for Badu and got the evening started with some cool R&B tunes, including songs from her new album Milk and Honey, which comes out this spring. Goapele not only had a blast on stage, but her outfit was beyond sexy and her hat was an art piece unto itself.

Badu sang On and On at Friday’s concert and there I was, totally 14 again, running around Japan. So now I must ask: Where does Badu take you?

Snap Sounds: The Bundles

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Snap Sounds: The Bundles

THE BUNDLES

The Bundles

(K, March 9 release)

“Don’t forget about your friends!” pleads Kimya Dawson from the thick of her new down-low supergroup of anti-folk pals and other rough ‘n’ ready types.

Raw rhymes and undercutting quips are the order of the day for Dawson, Jeffrey Lewis, Jack Lewis, and Anders Griffen when they gathered at the Dub Narcotic Studios in Olympia, Wash., last year under the watchful, playful eye of Karl Blau, who ended up joining in for the fun. “The cowboys and the punkers,” howls Dawson, “the fuckers that I conquered!” — all are welcome for these humble and hummable, rambunctious sing-alongs, which evoke both primitive skiffle and rockabilly combos as well as kindred K DIY-ers. The witty lyrics are the real joy here, though when the mellotron begins to wail and the tambourine, snare, and guitar starts to swirl, as they do on “Pirates Declare War,” you can see a long and fruitful coagulation, beyond easy quips and facile joke songs, ahead for the Bundles.

Tuareg rebel rock, the Tinariwen way

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Tuareg rebel rock, the Tinariwen way

The awesome group of hypnotic rockers known as Tinariwen — from “Kel Tinariwen,” or “desert boys” — dress in traditional costume for performances, have one of the most amazing political and social backstories of any band, and write songs that seek to convey the sorrows, longing, and occasional joys of living in exile. (They’ll be performing Sun/21 at the Palace of Fine Arts as part of the SF Jazz Festival.) That backstory story begins:

In 1963, an uprising of the nomadic Tuareg people began in the Adrar des Iforas desert region against the new independent government of Mali. During the revolt, a mason and trader by the name of Alhabib Ag Sidi was executed for aiding the rebels. The army then destroyed his herd of camels, cattle, and goats while his four-year old son Ibrahim watched. Ibrahim and his family travelled into exile in Algeria with his family and their one remaining cow.

It goes on to incorporate a number of rebellions, several diasoporas, Muammar Gaddafi, and founding member Ibrahim Ag Alhabib’s love for American blues. 

But there’s something even more compelling going on about Tinariwen than any gonzo global-folk narrative, however remarkable, suggests.

These savvy Saharans, whose numbers encompass two generations of musicians (lIbrahim Ag Alhabib will make a rare appearance at the SF date), have a multi-tentacled Web presence that just won’t quit, enthusiastically embrace the psychedelic indie-god status bestowed upon them by Pitchfork and the Uncut Music Awards, and aren’t afraid to defy exotic expectations by dressing down a bit.

Those are the kinds of things that can still shock Westerners when it comes to “world music” — we like our Putumayo heroes to stay in their Starbucks-ready niche — but Tinariwen plays it cool, walking a deliciously fine line between cutting-edge musicality and encapsulation of the past. (Perhaps the pitch-perfect duality of their image is what’s prevented their releases from being subjected to dance remixes — a requirement for almost every other “world musician” to increase Western accessibility. Or maybe we’re just finally getting over all that.)

Enough image analysis — what about the music? We’re dealing with several bluesy electric guitars (no bass), some lovely and innovative percussion, a single woman’s voice that can sometimes sound like several, and a throaty main vocal by Ibrahim Ag Alhabib that chant-croons and sometimes soars. Grooves are shuffled into slowly, and then amped up to dynamic effect, although noisy catharsis is saved only for key moments. It’s a heady, jam-band-sounding combination that often enraptures, and even without the backstory trappings (live, the group sometimes greets audiences with “Welcome to the desert”) still tells a story rarely heard, one of a new, unselfconscious fusion of global styles.

For the group’s fourth album, Imidiwan: Companions (World Village, 2009), Tinariwen took a break from all the world travelling and got back to its roots, recording in its hometown of Tessalit in Mali and attempting to channel the desert blues on a more intimate scale. The result is communal and virtuosic, and although a bit less visceral than past releases, it exudes a sense of relief — to be home, to have seen the world, perhaps to have reaped so much acclaim. Opener “Imidiwan Afrik Temdam” is a chuffing sway that Neil Young could easily cover, and shoulder-shaker “Tahult In” is an earworm that could serve as an authentic riposte to Sade’s desert-chic “Soldier of Love.” “Tenhert” is a handclapping dose of Tuareg rap.  

Tinariwen’s vast-yet-intimate sound translates equally well to venues as huge as the Glastonbury Festival and as cozy(ish) as Yoshi’s and the Palace of Fine Arts, where they’ve performed several times before. Whether you’re there to expand your sonic horizons, take some technical notes from riff-pros, or just whirl about to great tunes, you’ll probably be surprised at how many parts of you the music takes hold of and transports, no anthropology course required.

Tinariwen

Sun/21, 7 p.m., $25-$65

Palace of Fine Arts Theater

3301 Lyon, SF.

www.palaceoffinearts.org

Click here for more details and tickets

Check out Kandia Crazy Horse’s article for the Guardian on Tinariwen

Yoko Moments: “Why”

John Elberling
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Yoko Moments: “Why”

In honor of Kimberly Chun’s cover story this week on Yoko Ono, the time is right to post some Yoko moments here and there when the time is right. What better place to start than “Why,” a 1970 Yoko Ono/Plastic Ono Band track that has been hugely influential, both instrumentally and vocally. (A good game: name the people and bands it has influenced, and times it has been sampled.) It still sounds futuristic today.

That’s probably part of the reason why YouTube responses to it can be so hateful. Yoko does her thing. Thank god — I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt exactly like what she sings here. It must have been brutally exhausting to wail like this. Try for even a few seconds and you feel like your vocal cords have been shredded. Very primal scream therapy-era, with no bad Werner Erhard aftertaste.

 

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