Album: A Place To Bury Strangers - Onwards to the Wall [EP]

Album: Onward to the Wall
Dead Oceans
Release Date: February 7, 2012
Rating: ******* (7/10)

It's no secret that A Place to Bury Strangers is a one-trick pony, but it's a damn good trick. Guitarist and singer Oliver Ackermann makes his own custom guitar pedals and uses them to annihilate his songs in a peeling monolith of distortion and feedback. A driving beat and heavily reverbed tenor vocals emerge from the murk and shape the wash of noize into irresistible bite-sized songs.

The band's new E.P., Onwards to the Wall, is in many ways a more interesting release than the band’s last full-length album, 2009’s Exploding Head. >> Read the full review at piquedmag.com

Album: The Horrors - Skying

Album: Skying
XL Records
Release Date: July 26 or August or something (in the US)
Rating: ******** (8/10)

The first time I heard the Horrors, they were opening for someone or other at Music Hall of Williamsburg and I thought they were one of the worst bands I'd ever heard - a "goth" band that had probably never listened to real goth music in their lives, a band who ripped off real musicians to create an "edgy" image and used some cheap effects to try to disguise the fact that their music is as formulaic as any mainstream teen radio idol.

But I kept seeing their 2009 record Primary Colours on Best of Oh Nine lists including lists by some people I hold in high regard. Like Fucked Up. I grudgingly sat down with a copy. And was astounded.

I can still hear in the Horrors what inspired my very mistaken first impression. On one level, they are a blatantly derivative 80s throwback. You'd be hard pressed to find any single element in their music that wasn't directly sourced from a UK band circa 1982 (give or take a couple years). And if I'm to be honest, that fact really does prevent this band from full-on greatness. The silver lining here is that they don't sound like most of the other bands of the moment. They sound big and their music resonates with drama and genuine pain. It's a sad truth that a band that doesn't sing about going to the beach is now exceptional. Fuck the beach. Ian Curtis never sang about the fucking beach - not because he didn't like the beach (probably) but because he knew it would be a stupid thing to sing about.

This is all kind of irrelevant because I actually have no idea what the Horrors are on about, except that it’s not the beach (probably). But what I'm saying is that the Horrors are true Romantics and are definitely not into this escapist bullshit. Romantics may be dramatic goofs, but if you can say one thing for them, it’s that they are much too busy getting their hearts broken to think about the beach.

For all its moodiness, Skying is less dark than Primary Colours. Which isn’t saying much. It also sounds much larger than Primary Colours, which definitely is saying something. Instrument for instrument, the Horrors owe their biggest debt to Public Image Ltd and Joy Division. The guitar is straight up Keith Levene (Public Image) with bass recalling Peter Hook (Joy Division) and vocals that are, at most, two generations down the musical family tree from Ian Curtain (Joy Division again). There is another band that ripped of Keith Levene and Joy Division, and they are called U2 and Skying doesn’t sound unlike U2’s first record (okay, it sounds exactly like it), even if the Horrors’ pseudo-gothic image doesn’t exactly jive with golden boy Bono. I haven’t heard anyone rip off Keith Levene quite so well since the Edge did back then (a long long time ago).

This guitar, however derivative, is the highlight of the album. It’s never high in the mix, but below the surface, it twinkles and shimmers like glowing embers. There's some Kevin Shields influence in there too, pitches bending achingly in and out of tune. The sparkling chorus on "Changing the Rain" is stunning and the melting reversed reverb on "Still Life" might take your breath away.

The synthesizers, on the other hand, are entirely lacking in subtlety. The cheesy parts may be hard for some folks to swallow, but at least the band fully embraces them. There's nothing worse than self-aware, apologetic synth pop. If you feel you have to apologize for your music, you shouldn't be making it in the first place. The Horrors offer no apologies when the blaring synth textures introduce "You Said" or when synthesizer riffs burst in rather rudely on songs like "Moving Further Away" and "I Can See Through You." Although the synths do sound modern, their parts unabashedly channel London, 1981. The band is not shy about signposting their New Romantic roots - you remember all those synth bands out of London in the early 80's: Soft Cell, Eurythmics, Spandau Ballet, Depeche Mode and the rest of them? Those guys.

The vocals also owe their biggest debt to that period - direct Ian Curtis descendents though they may be, they are more dramatized and less despondent. Sure, singer Faris Badwan has anguish, but it's the anguish of a showman. The Horrors are writ large and deliver a performance, a production, drama in the sense of theatrics as well as emotion. Like so many of their influences, they draw on glam rock, which draws in turn on cabaret - it's spectacle, it's fully removed from the mundane, it's the soap opera to punk's gritty documentary.

Granted, the band has some roots in punk and garage rock as well. The Birthday Party (Nick Cave's original band) is the first example that comes to mind but the band learns from bands as far back as 60's garage rockers like the Seeds and ? and the Mysterians. But on Skying, they've largely said adieu to their grittier side in favor of a massive, polished sound. They're still noisy, no doubt about it, but they don't have a lot of rough edges left.

The most polished and least dated element in the music is the rhythm section. Just as the vocals are Ian Curtis via New Romantics, the bass is Peter Hook via U2 in as much as it tends to hang on the root a lot and sticks to a lot of quarter notes. But this sort of minimal melodicism fits perfectly with the dance-y grooves of the drums, which unlike the beatz of 1981, have the advantage of having a chance to learn from hip-hop, trip-hop and acid house (of which the last is the most direct rhythmic blueprint for Skying). They've got that whole baggy, Madchester thing down pat, especially on the slower tracks like "Changing the Rain" and "Moving Further Away."

The album boasts a decent amount of variety, ranging from the one rough'n'gritty track, "Monica Gems" to the slick "Changing the Rain," from the Telescopes ripoff "Dive In" to the M83ity "Moving Further Away." The best tracks are the biggest, shiniest, danciest, poppiest, rockin'est ones: "Changing the Rain," "I Can See Through You," "Dive In," "Still Life" and the eight minute opus "Moving Further Away." The remaining tracks are a bit less inspired but work well enough in the context of the LP.

It's hard for me to admit this album is made up entirely of recycled 80's Britishisms and that's probably because I enjoy it so very much. I want to believe in the Horrors. I want to believe they are doing something that matters. I want to believe I'm not buying into an act that merely pillaged a decade and dressed it up all as something new, but I am. And so what? I started asking myself why anyone would want to make an album that sounds exactly like early U2, but I've ended up with a different question - why wouldn't anyone want to make an album that sounds exactly like early U2. Skying isn't important. But it's so beautiful it makes my heart skip a beat. And that's not a bad accomplishment, even if it's fleeting.

Live: Ringo Deathstarr, Heaven, Dead Leaf Echo

When: July 3
Where: Shea Stadium

How do I get so far behind on these?!

So some shoegaze bands played a show.  The Vandelles played first which is weird because they never play first and are far too good to play first.  So anyway, I missed their set as did most people.  LAME.  Anyway, some of their badassery was captured on video, which is cool but may make you (me) regret missing it all the more.

The next band to play was called Heaven.  They're a sort of obscure shoegaze supergroup with a member of Ambulance Ltd and one from the Big Sleep/Snowden.  Someone was telling me they had a member of Swervedriver, but I don't think that's true.  It does look like two members played on Swervedriver's Adam Franklin's solo record so that's probably the origin of that story.  One of them has also played with Dean & Britta (of Galaxie 500/Luna) so basically, what this means is that in their niche genre, they're about as pedigree as you can git.

They're newish and they were pretty good.  Interestingly, they were by far their best when they were doing more ambient, hazy muzak than when they tried to get all songy.  And this is coming from someone who has absolutely no patience with that wishy washy stuff.  Which means two things: 1) they were really good at that wishy washy stuff and 2) they were really not great at more beat+plus+melody, faster paced songs.

At their subtler moments, though, the band was transcendent.  Really spiritual stuff.  Which is why I started like shoegaze in the first place (well, that and it's loud).  It was in these moments when the not-very-groove-centric drummer was at his best, laying down massive slabs o' drum.  Likewise, the vocals shined in these not-trying-to-be-catchy moments - there was something very genuine and natural about them.  [video]

I wrote up Dead Leaf Echo pretty recently and I don't really have anything to add.  It's just nice to finally see all their pieces fall into place.  By the way, if you were wondering where the awesome bass was coming from (as the people behind me during the set were), the band is sans bassist, but their stuff sounds way better than your average prerecorded bass line.  That's because they stacked several layers of properly studio-recorded bass on the track.  Then, they routed the recording through a proper bass amp in addition to the PA.  Which is freaking brilliant.  It was, in fact, the best prerecorded bass I think I've ever heard.  [video]

Of course, all of the bands were just building up to Austin-based shoegaze gods Ringo Deathstarr.  This band makes me swoon.  Their guitar can obliterate your speakers and ear drums.  (In the best possible way.)  This rich guitar, full of phantom melodies and shifting pitches, is straight out of Loveless, but the vocals are more tuneful that My Bloody Valentine's, a lot closer to the good old pop tunes of the Jesus & Mary Chain (who ripped them off the Beach Boys, but that's neither here nor there).

"Jasper" once asked an Austin shoegazer of his acquaintance about the band and was informed that everyone in Austin thought they were a joke and "that girl doesn't even play an instrument" or something like that.  If that was ever true, the joke's now on him.  "That girl," bassist Alex Gehring, is sick.  She's an absolutely great bassist - her lines simultaneously groove deeply and punch you in the chest.  As is typical in the genre, the bass carries a lot of melody while the guitar becomes sheer roar.  Meanwhile, electro/dance-derived icy beats from drummer Daniel Coburn make the whole thing sound a lot like "Soon" (you know, that last song on Loveless that's everyone's favorite MBV song ever).

But what's really great about Ringo Deathstarr isn't that they write amazing songs and get mindblowing sounds out of their instruments.  It's that they're genuinely insane.  Cracked.  Unhinged.  Pure batshit out of their mind nuts.  Which is what made this one of the most punk rock shoegaze shows of all time.  I mean, first of all, in direct defiance of the name of the genre, guitarist Elliot Frazier at several points leapt into the audience midsong.  Then at some point, they invited a bunch of people up on stage (primarily from the previous bands) and somehow things devolved such that both the guitar and drums had been seized by people who weren't in the band at all and the music fell apart in chaos.  But that's not the insane part.  The insane part is that after the song finally stopped breathing, Gehrig insisted that her two bandmates return to their instruments to finish the song (which had veered in the direction of crazytown before its as-recorded coda).  Coburn, I believe, thought the set was over and had gone to the bathroom so the band announced that they would wait (and therefore all of us would wait) for the drummer to return to the stage.  So everyone stood around awkwardly for a few minutes, and then Coburn showed up and they immediately launched into the song where they'd left off.  For about twenty seconds, until the song was over.

I mean, who does that?  Only a true genius.  And only by accident.  It was, obviously, one of the best endings to a show I've ever seen.  And I've seen a lot.  [video]....[more video]

Album: Grooms - Prom

Album: Prom
Kanine Records
Release Date: July 12, 2011
Rating: ******** (8/10)

To cut to the chase, Grooms' sophomore full-length is startlingly great. The album oozes the professionalism and confidence of a band that - finally - knows exactly what they're trying to do. It is refreshingly original and strikingly mature.

Grooms still often evoke Sonic Youth in their odd dissonance, the guitar (and vocals) often transcending key signatures to create mysteriously, deliciously warped harmonies and scales. Still, compared to their first album, Prom owes relatively little to Sonic Youth or anyone else for that matter. It's not hard to name reference points (Sonic Youth, Radiohead, Microphones, My Bloody Valentine, the Notwist), but Prom could only have been made by Grooms.

The album announces its identity immediately - "Tiger Trees" opens with a foreboding military march, traced out not by the thud of drums but rather by shards of static, then explodes into a wash of noise. It's that rare sort of noise that doesn't depend on volume as its primary ingredient, the kind you can find in albums by Eric's Trip and the Microphones and very few others. It's a sort of quiet roar that evokes mountains and oceans. It doesn't sound murky but it's nearly impossible to figure out exactly what is going on.

That sort of masterful engineering is coupled with noticeably electrodance leaning elements such as the relentlessly elliptical acid house bass on the title track, the sputtering drums of "Imagining the Bodies" and the industrial beat in parts of "Into the Arms." These elements recall Radiohead, with their deep, post-dub, asymmetrical b-lines, but they are always balanced with organic elements. Likewise, when the guitar drifts off into space on the slow "Expression Of," the bass is at its most earthy.

The album is impressively consistent - none of the tracks feel like filler, either in that they are underdeveloped or in that they don't fit with the record overall. The explosive, melting-out-of-key "Aisha" balances the gentle, sad ambient-folk of "Psychics." In "Sharing," Grooms take a cue from My Bloody Valentine circa 1988 with bassist Emily Ambruso's only lead vocal, a sticky-sweet indie pop song swimming in blurry, underwater noise.

My only major complaint about the album is that the vocals are too far forward in many songs. Some of the middle tracks ("Imagining the Bodies," "Skating With Girl") are about right, but many songs, including the first two (otherwise, the album's strongest), simply seem to have vocals pasted over the top. While everything is a whirl of sound, Travis Johnson's vocals are bizarrely exposed - which might work if they were better but realistically, vocals are not the band's strongest suit. They aren't bad, by any means, but the melodies are a little underdeveloped and Johnson's voice just a little thin in contrast with the rich tapestry of the instrumentals.

Still, for an album as bold and original as this, you gotta hand it to these guys. Prom is a keeper.

Live: Coathangers, Friends, Bush Tetras

When: 6/24
Where: 285 Kent

Although I've loved the Coathangers for a few years now and consider them top-notch badasses, they reached a new level of badassery and awesomeness during their opening slot for Bush Tetras on Friday.  The Coathangers are four attractive but intimidating ladies from Georgia.  They play strange, energetic, sarcastic punk music.  Their vocal styles range from gender-bending growl to possessed muppet, at times warbling, at times screeching - but somehow, there are melodies.

The Coathangers haven't changed that much since I first saw them but they have gone in a new direction on one thing: their approach to the keyboard.  Once upon a time, about 90% of their keyboard playing involved randomly banging clusters of keys, but now they've moved away from that technique towards actual melodic riffs (though they still do some random pounding as well).  Honestly, it's not better or worse this way - on the one hand, the music is a little less ferociously wild than it once was, but on the other, the band's songs are more distinct and more tightly constructed.

And around those melodic riffs, the band still rages like always.  Seriously, don't fuck with these girls.  Todd P and his sound guy tried to fuck with them by cutting the band off during one of their instrument rotations.  Because their set was a little (ok, a lot) long and there were two bands yet to go, Big Brother decided to pull the plug and start blasting the Beach Boys (or something similar) through the PA, signalling the end of the set.  The Coathangers ignored it and kept playing.  And won.  The music was shut off and the mics were turned back on.  Pausing for only about two or three seconds to shout "don't turn off our mics" they launched into another song.

Twice more, the bossman tried to drown them out with shite, but the band refused to leave the stage.  During one last instrument switch, someone decided enough was enough and cut off the mics for good.  But did that stop our feisty foursome?  Ha!  They played their last song OVER the between-sets mix that was blasting out of the PA.  I don't know how they managed to stay together with a whole other song going at the same time, but they pulled it off and it was awesome.  True, the vocals were inaudible and although the band did what they could to encourage a shout-along, not enough people knew the words to make that effective.  But even if parts of the song were lost in the cacophony, the point still got across: the Coathangers are nobody's bitch. [video (not this show)]

Granted, the Coathangers are a hard act to follow, but upon seeing Friends, I could see why the much superior Coathangers felt inspired to run over their allotment into the next set.  Friends weren't all bad.  But the parts that were bad were pretty awful.  The band is more post-disco than post-funk, but they were a logical opener for Bush Tetras, warm but white female vocals over angular post-punk dance grooves.  They were tight and some of their b-lines were pretty outstanding.  Their rhythm section over all was tight and they had some good ideas.  Unfortunately, they chose to use two of the most piercing and annoying sounds possible on many of their songs: wood block and claves (those two wood sticks that you click together in Latin music).

The main thing that put me out wasn't the whacking of pieces of wood together, however.  It was the oversung pop singing of the frontwoman that really grated my nerves after a while.  There were moments when the set was enjoyable, more than I expected, but the overarching vocals sounded a little too much like a showcase of vocal ability and not quite enough like pop hooks or genuine expression.

The band was also a bit grating on a personal level.  They were informed mid-way through their set that New York had legalized gay marriage.  They made several well-intentioned attempts to express their agreement with the decision but the more they tried, the more awkward and offensive their comments got.  As if the vocals hadn't made me cringe enough for one night!  Still, their hearts were in the right place. [video (not this show)]

The Bush Tetras closed out the night with a set that was a little too long, given the heat of the room, but they did hit most of their best songs and well, they are too awesome for words.  And what words I can use for them, I just used a few days ago.  [video (not this show)]

Live: Pygmy Shrews, Pop. 1280

When: 6/11
Where: Death By Audio

I've reviewed White Suns recently, so I'll skip it except to say they're rad and I enjoyed them much.

I'd really like to get more into Pop. 1280.  They have a lot of elements I like - the nasty guitars and screaming of hardcore/post-hardcore and the foreboding tension of post-punk.  But Pop 1280's foreboding/gothic leanings overpower their punkier aspects.  Most songs are slow and drony, based around minimal, hypnotic drums and bass (or synth-generated b-lines).  Murky guitar and synth textures slide sharply between the pounding rhythms and Chris Bug rants over the top.

So far so good, or so you'd think.  But something is amiss.  Most of their songs are so alike in tone and tempo that they blend together and well, after ten or fifteen or twenty minutes, the repetitiveness and consistency becomes monotony.  Dark post-punk is often meant to be punishing, but there's a subtle difference between punishment and boredom and Pop. 1280 fall just slightly on the wrong side of that fence.  And I do mean slightly - there's a lot to love about the band.  If their ice stage presence doesn't warm your heart, their fat Suicide-esque synth riffs and harsh tones certainly will (if you're anything like me, anyway).  It's just that the impact and enjoyment become noticeably diluted as the length of the set exceeds its content, idea-wise.

In a way, the pieces of Pop. 1280 don't quite come together.  There's a disconnect between Bug, out front with the mic, and the rest of the band who are actually physically in the background.  Band members don't have to present themselves uniformly but they should have a unified vision of how they want to present the band as a whole.  Something about the gulf between the players and the frontman in Pop. 1280 makes it seem like you're watching two separate bands who each need the instrumentation of the other, so they tolerate (and mostly ignore) each other.  Musically, it's tight and it works together on paper, but in the delivery, it just doesn't gel. [video]

Of course, the juxtaposition with the Pygmy Shrews can't help - now there's a band who gel.  OK.  "Gel" may be the wrong word in as much as it evokes something smooth and translucent.  Pygmy Shrews are more like a blood clot, the physics remains the same - put the three shrews on a stage together and the result is monolithic.  They seem to share not only a sonic technique (loud) but also a sense of humor.  They're not a comedy act and they absolutely will fuck your shit up, but true to punk's dadaist roots, the Shrews know how to be fun and funny.

The Shrews are too cool for woords, but musically they are mostly "just" a punk band and their new material seems to be more straightforward than ever.  Of course, Ben Greenberg's aluminum guitar gives the band's sound a corrosive post-hardcore feel and Tia Vincent-Clark's bass has a knotted complexity you won't find in your average (or even above-average) hardcore band.  Greenberg has also been known to bust out a nasty, shredded solo.  It's these relatively small things - along with the band's absolutely perfect attitude - that set them apart from their punky peers.

What is the perfect attitude for a band like this?  Well, it's about striking a balance, caring and yet not giving a fuck, showing genuine affection for your audience while also telling them to fuck off and throwing beer cans at them (or whatever).  It's expressing real and urgent rage without taking that tongue out of your check. Too many bands take themselves too seriously and too many more don't take themselves seriously enough, failing to grasp the importance of punk and everything it stands for.  Pygmy Shrews are a rare breed, a band that's able to issue an equally big "fuck you" to folks on both sides.

But I doubt they'd put it quite that way.  I think they just like to play.  [video]

Live: Bush Tetras

When: 6/10
Where: Le Poisson Rouge

Another way overdue live review, but timely because the Bush Tetras are playing TONIGHT at 285 Kent and you should hear them.

For those who don't know who the Tetras are, here's a brief history: in New York City in the late 70's, a group of artists reacted to the commercialization of punk by making music that could never be co-opted by the record industry because it was pretty much unlistenable.  That movement, dubbed "No Wave," included a broad variety of bands but all were noisy and eschewed conventional song structures and most were non-musicians.  One of the main groups was the Contortions who had a guitarist named Pat Place.  Once No Wavers had made their point, all the chaos started getting a little old, so they moved on to other things.  Pat Place, along with a few other women from the scene, moved on to Bush Tetras, a group that took the dissonance and aggression of No Wave and channeled it into tight funk grooves that are jagged but actually danceable.

The Bush Tetras were a great band and an influential one, although they never reached massive commercial success (they weren't exactly aiming for the Top 40, obviously).

When I saw them on June 10, they had some gray hairs, but they were still as great a band as ever.  They played old "hits" as well as some "newer" songs.  Although original bassist Laura Kennedy is not in the mix, but Julia Murphy still bangs out some of the best b-lines I've ever heard - funky grooves but with that special angularity that sets the Tetras apart.  (In case you're wondering, Kennedy hasn't played with the band in ages because of serious health problems.  In fact, that was one of the major reasons for the band's 2007 reunion - she needed a liver transplant and her old band reformed to raise funds.  Yes, they were successful and last we heard, she's got a new liver and is slowly rebuilding her health.)

The two most important band members are still very much in top form.  They don't shy away from looking middle-aged, especially vocalist Cynthia Sley, who looks pretty much like every other artsy 50-ish woman from the Village, you know the kind of old hippie lady with the long hair and the simple, flowy clothes.  Pat Place has always stood in a bit of contrast to this, with cropped hair and a tough, androgynous look.  She's definitely the punk nihilist to Sley's sage flowerchild.

But Sley's lyrics are not so flowery.  The band closed on their most well-known song, "Too Many Creeps," but all of their songs have a similar sense of mixed paranoia and ennui.  Place's searing, discordant guitar certainly adds to the sense of claustrophobia but the entire band and their entire oeuvre seems to say "We're so bored and we're so totally screwed, but let's have fun and get down."  Of course, they have some less nihilistic political points but it's all coated in the crime of New York City (and in particular the shithole that was New York City in the late 70's).

Most reunited bands are lucky if they don't look ridiculous doing what they do (the same could be said of bands that just never break up, amiright Mr. Jagger?) but the Tetras are miles beyond that.  Maybe because they're so sincere, maybe because they're having so much fun, maybe because they never had a whole lot of glory in the first place so they haven't got some youthful folly they're trying to reclaim, they are as cool as they ever were.  Maybe even more so.  Yeah, they are who they are - it's not perfect - but they play tighter and rock harder than most of the wussy youngsters making indie "rock" today.  So kids, take notes - this is how it's done.

Live: Pterodactyl, Screens, Keepaway

When: 5/27
Where: Death By Audio

Another shamefully overdue review, but a couple of weeks ago, I caught Screens and Pterodactyl at Death By Audio.  I missed Zulus, who played first, but I did catch the second opener, Keepaway.

Keepaway is one of those bands that's so bad it transfixes you.  I couldn't look away.  If you are ever making a funny movie and you need a band to parody the worst side of parochial pop, Keepaway are the guys you want.  When the band started with their cheesy, tacky, unartful electronica, all over the worst canned beats imaginable, it was jawdropping.  "Jasper" theorized that they were the guys who got rejected by the Animal Collective cover band.  My own assessment was similar, but rather more harsh.

Unfortunately, as the set went on, the music got slightly better, which ruined the band's only appeal - the sheer awesomeness of how terrible it was.  If they'd managed to stay godawful the whole time, they'd be more worthy of note, but as their music reached regularly-crappy levels, they became less and less interesting.

However, one part never ceased to horrify - the lyrics.  It was like poetry by a 13-year-old.  A melodramatic and not very bright 13-year-old.  I cannot get over how bad these lyrics were.  It was PAINFUL to listen to.  Of course, it was made more painful by the nearly tone-deaf "singer."  You could tell there were supposed to be melodies, but his attempts at executing them were grating.

If the band didn't seem to take themselves seriously, I might be interested in them as a sort of "meta" critique.  But everything about how they conducted themselves indicated that they actually think this music is good.  They didn't even seem to be having that much fun, they just did a generic indie rock performance, head nodding to the rhythms, their "drummer" randomly tapping along to the programed rhythms like a talentless four-year-old.  The whole thing was self-indulgent, boring and embarrassing.  Please stop.  ["jam session" video]

Screens played next.  There was a time I was super excited about Screens and thought they were the second coming but I've been a bit disappointed with the band.  The problem with them is that they are tantalizingly close to something awesome, but they just keep missing the mark.  Their largely synth-driven music is fresh and smart, sheets of noise and danceable beats pasted together like a carefully crafted collage.  Their music stutters and veers but never at random - everything that's placed together in a song belongs together.

However, there are some very poor decisions in the mix.  Most glaringly, the vocals are laden with effects.  Most songs feature tremendous delay on the vocals, so every shout or scream is repeated in full several times after it's uttered.  Added to that is a gratuitous amount of reverb and often distortion.  There's absolutely no substance to the vocals themselves - they're entirely effects.  The band would be better off without vocals at all.  But better than that, even would be if the band could learn to use vocals as effectively as they use the other elements of their music.

The effects on the vocals thing would be silly regardless, especially given current trends towards doing this, it also has the effect of making the band sound generic.  The frontman is enthusiastic, but he seems a little disconnected from the band as well, both because he's sonically superfluous and because he doesn't seem to engage them or vice versa.  If the band learns how to incorporate its members with the same fluidity as they incorporate the components of their songs, they'll be genius.  But as it stands, they're frustrating.

I've seen Pterodactyl a bazillion times and reviewed them almost as many times.  The last two, they were a quartet, but at this show, they were back down to their core trio and it was the best set of theirs I've seen in a long time.  Perhaps it was the comfort of being a trio and on something close to home turf.  Their frenetic noise-rock folded more smoothly into their new, slower, syncopated sound.  Matt Marlin really is an outstanding drummer and really holds the reigns - with a flick of his wrist, he can quickly change a song from breakneck punk to relaxed calypso to deep blues and back.

There's not much else I can say without repeating my other reviews.  The band is exceptionally tight and their sound is bold, original and buoyant, bubbling with genuine joy.  So, basically, they still got it. [old ptero video]

Album: Arctic Monkeys - Suck It and See

Album: Suck It and See
Domino
Release date: 6/7/11
Rating: ***** (5/10)

The Arctic Monkeys are one of the better semi-indie bands to make it big lately, but after a couple of good albums, they've really dropped the ball with their latest release, Suck It and See. It's not bad in any particular way, it's just so fucking boring. So far, the record has garnered a lot of really positive reviews but I can't figure out why.

The album was meant to be "more vintage" than the last couple releases and it seems to have accomplished, with earthy production and mellow songwriting that recalls Lou Reed. The songs are almost all the same tempo (130 BPM give or take 10). They almost all start with guitar, then add vocals, then add the rhythm section. They're mostly in the same couple key signatures. There's little distortion, mostly just a slight amp-generated crunch. Nearly every track features tambourine and although the drum beats vary, they are so produced and unspectacular that they end up sounding the same. The vocals never stray from their most comfortable range. There is reverb on the vocals, guitars and drums and it never varies noticeably anywhere on the album.

Taken individually, most of the songs are above average in terms of both writing and execution. The melodies are poppy but pleasantly languid and certainly tasteful. The simple arrangements are well thought out and the guitar sound is beautifully controlled. The topics of the lyrics are generic but more clever than most.

The record does have its moments. "Library Pictures," the album's heaviest track, is propelled by frantic bass and drumming - but even this song drops down to half tempo for half the song and returns to the jangly crunchy guitar of every other track. "All My Own Stunts" is satisfyingly dark and the vocal melody is the only one on the album that breaks the mold. Meanwhile, "Brick by Brick" rocks hard and recalls the minimal blues-punk of the White Stripes and the gritty psychedelia of bands like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Brian Jonestown Massacre. The album's lead single, "Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair" - though similar in mood - takes its time in the introduction and with the slow tempo and highly repetitive, generic melody on the verse, it doesn't really accomplish what it sets out to do.

As for the songs that match the album's signature formula, of course, some are better than others. The title track is warm and gently enticing. And the closer, "That's Where You're Wrong," is a subtle, exquisitely written song, all jangling guitars and finespun hooks. In contrast, the first two songs are painfully boring and entirely lacking in melodic interest in the vocals (although there are a couple of good guitar riffs thrown in).

Arctic Monkeys may be good songwriters and they may have perfected their sound, but there is a vacuum in Suck It, a void where energy and inspiration should be. I'd rather hear a sloppy, mistaken-ridden record than one that's polished and lifeless. Skip it.

Album: Fucked Up - David Comes to Life

Album: David Comes to Life
Matador
Release Date: 6/7/11
Rating: ******** (8/10)

I don't like rock operas. Not Tommy. Not Zen Arcade. Not even really Ziggy Stardust. I like a lot of the songs on those records but I find the whole opera thing really hard to get past. And Fucked Up's new album, David Comes to Life, is no exception. But that's a personal hangup. And setting personal shit aside, David is an outstanding accomplishment.

The double album, clocking in at 80 minutes, is a proletarian meta-drama that explores themes like the subjectivity of truth and personal redemption in the face of guilt. The title character, David, is a factory worker (perhaps the very same worker imagined by guitarist 10,000 Marbles in his flagrantly Dickensian interview with Stereogum) who falls in love with a woman with whom he plots an insurrection of sorts. Soon after the lovers meet, the woman is killed in an explosion and David takes the blame for her death. However, the listener eventually learns that the originally distant narrator was actually (probably) responsible. The truth comes out and David finds redemption and peace, his belief in love restored.

Fucked Up have reinvented hardcore punk before and here they continue to push the boundaries of the genre. There's no mistaking Damian Abraham's voice for any other style, but just as the Who proved rock could reach the epic level of opera, Fucked Up are here to show the same for punk, more convincingly than anyone else has managed to date. Abraham's roar is couched in a wash of guitar, the sort of shimmering layers of sound that characterized the band's last release. Lead guitar also frequently joins Abraham on the melodies, outlining the tunes his gruff voice implies. It all works.

Moreover, David recalls the Who's Tommy not only in its story and the statement it makes on rock music but even in its sound. Although the layers of guitar could be no one but Fucked Up, some of the scintillating textures and broad open chords have Pete Townshend all over them. Although compositionally the furthest the band has gotten from traditional pop, the album is the band's brightest to date in terms of the chords, keys and melodies.

The lyrics are literate and clever. The story isn't all that clear because the band chooses to focus on the characters' internal battles rather than the plot that links them together. Although the ambiguity of the album can be frustrating, it's actually much better for this decision. After all, the whole story is metaphor and allegory. The moral of the tale seems to be "believe in love and seize the day," which is in itself not all that original, but it works because the band tackles huge subjects en route to this conclusion - truth, justice, religion, class struggle and free will among others. The unreliable narrator is not a new literary device, but it's rare to find a narrator so actively and candidly discussing his role as narrator and his reason for taking on this role - to hide his own guilt.

The band's approach here does have its drawbacks, though. There is some dialog among the characters that comes off as a little trite and the constant couplets are a bit annoying for those looking for the kind of pop-structured ragers of the band's previous releases. The lack of straightforward songs is the most disappointing thing about this album - but then again, the bands songs were never terribly straightforward by conventional standards anyway. The album's best tracks are often its simplest. Anthems "A Slanted Tone" and "Serve Me Right" stand out and the quality of the songs seems to improve as the album carries on - as the band's passion peaks and the story's broader implications come into focus.

David is an ambitious undertaking but Fucked Up has not overreached. Indeed, they've earned this and their execution, while occasionally burdensome, is never indulgent. Fucked Up have approached this project with the same passion and love with which they do everything. And despite the heavy subject matter and daunting length of the record, it rocks as hard as anything the band has done to date. I doubt it will find itself in as frequent rotation in my headphones as the band's more song-oriented releases, but it's a humbling achievement and a vital contribution to punk.

You can hear the whole album for yourself right here.

Live: Total Slacker, Weekends, Selebrities, Beast Make Bomb

When: 5/13
Where: Monster Island Basement

The first band I caught at Monster Island Basement last weekend was Beast Make Bomb.  They are a pop-punk (heavy on the pop) sort of band with a moderate feminist bent.  The band is fronted by two women and backed by two men on bass and drums respectively.  The main singer and rhythm guitarist isn't afraid to dance, which was kind of awkward but definitely a good thing anyway.  The most impressive member of the band, though, is the androgynous lead guitarist.  She's not Hendrix or anything, but she knows what she's doing and got a tasty overdriven sound out of her hollow-body guitar.  Her backing vocals were low enough to be gender-bending.  Meanwhile, the bassist spent a lot of time way up on the neck, well into guitar range.  This gave the music a certain exuberant energy.

Ultimately, the band was kind of generic.  They're fun and they're good at what they do, but they are one of those bands that so adheres to tried and tested formulas that their songs sound familiar the first time you hear them.  I don't mean that they are ripping anyone off or that they are boring - just don't expect them to revolutionize your understanding of popular music.

The next band, Selebrities, made a deeper impression.  I couldn't look away, but I'm not sure if that was out of horror or love.  It depends on the band's intentions.

Selebrities play a synth-driven post-punk that recalls late Joy Division more than it does New Order.  What immediately caught my attention was that out of the dozens upon dozens of bands I've heard rip off Joy Division, this was the first to have a female vocalist.  I'm sure they aren't the only one, but they're the first I've encountered.  But as their set wore on, their focus on synths and heavily processed guitar pointed more towards the Human League, Soft Cell, Erasure and their ilk, the futurist bands of yesteryear that now sound so very dated.  And like those bands, Selebrities' songs were cheesy and overstated.  There was little in the way of subtlety and nuance.

But before writing off Selebrities as a cheesy throwback, several things gave me pause.  One is simply something I read about French-Swiss filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard recently.  Godard was a critic before he was a filmmaker and I read a quote where he said he considered his films to BE criticism.  Could Selebrities be offering something similar, musically?

Other than my pure good-hearted desire to give the band the benefit of the doubt (HA HA yeah right), the main indicator that Selebrities might have something beneath the surface is the singing.  Singer Maria Usbeck was terrible.  I hope to god she knows that, and if not, I hope she doesn't read it here, because that's the kind of thing that can screw up a young musician.  But honestly, she didn't hit a right note once in the set.  She was close enough that you knew exactly what the melody was meant to be, but she never got on pitch.  And this was the band's main redeeming factor - in simple, cheesy 80's synthpop, the vocalist's correct delivery of the melody is simply a given.  But this is different, and that interests me.

As I see it, there are two possibilities here.  Either the band knows exactly what they are doing - artless, synthshit throwback - or they have no idea and just really like that genre and want to play it.  If the former is true, they are amazing, providing a keen critique of the state of popular music.  If the latter is true, they are awful.  And honestly, that's the more likely option.  Still, I'm going to give the band the benefit of the doubt for now.  If nothing else, they have some courage to get up and play when they are so very bad.  Which may sound like a backhanded insult, but I really mean it - I respect any band that puts themselves out there in way so vulnerable to derisive criticism (like this).

The highlight of the night, and the reason for my attendance, was of course Total Slacker.  Total Slacker are so fucking cool.  There's something about the tall, hunched guitar madness of Tucker (I dunno his last name) that recalls a young Thurston Moore, and indeed, with her frosty stoicism, bassist Emily (I don't know her last name) could be his own Kim Gordon.  The band don't sound like Sonic Youth at all, but they have a similar wild energy, endlessly creative but never taking things too seriously.

Total Slacker play songs that suit their name, sloppy, out of tune songs about "taco people" and being freaked out by cops.  I found it somewhat ironic that the band should spend ten minutes tuning (or playing "The Tuning Song," as they called it) when everything they play sounds blatantly out of tune.  But of course, the secret to Total Slacker is that their chaos is controlled.  It's genuine in their attitude, but as musicians, they know exactly what they're doing.

In fact, Tucker is a guitar hero on par with any of his contemporaries.  He can shred solos with his guitar behind his head and when the solos sound like all wrong notes, it's because he knows which notes will sound wrong in the right way.  Emily, for her part, is a mean bassist.  She doesn't overplay and is willing to repeat the same damn riff for fifteen minutes if that's what's called for.  But her succinct lines are near-perfect and nasty.  Emily and Tucker share vocals that are as skillfully detuned as their guitars.  Tucker is particularly sloppy, seeming to forget half the time that he needs to be near the mic.  Which is, of course, perfect.

The musical chemistry also extends to drummer Ross (I dunno his last name) and all three seem to read each other's minds, anchoring their fuck-all-cares chaos to their satisfying and actually carefully written songs - nearly every one a gem in its own right.

The set ended in chaos, but not with the destruction of a guitar, which makes this the first Total Slacker show in which an ax wasn't axed.  The band is heading out on tour so maybe they realized they can't keep up smashing their shit and lighting it on fire indefinitely.  I knew (or hoped) they weren't going to destroy their guitar when Tucker didn't change instruments for the final song, instead staying on his absolutely gorgeous 70's Fender Stratocaster.  I may not have the most acute ear for the nuances of guitar sound, but with that one, I could hear the difference.  And although the band's deconstruction of popular music didn't extend this time to the physical deconstruction of a guitar, Tucker was all over the place with wild energy, running to the back of the room with his guitar on the final song, while Ross stacked and then toppled his drum kit amid the feedback and disintegration of the closer.

Total Slacker may be my favorite Brooklyn band right now; they are certainly the most fun to watch.  Words can't do them justice - you'll have to check them out yourself.  Maybe on their tour.

Weekends closed out the night.  An energetic art-punk duo in the vein of No Age (and also comparable to their Baltimore kin Ponytail, duos Japanther and Lightning Bolt and kindred spirits Pterodactyl), Weekends play noise pop, feeding guitar through layers of distortion and delay and playing drums noisy and fast, which is the best way to play drums.  The two members switch places behind guitar and drums.  They jump around a lot and knock things over.  Brendan Sullivan, who played the guitar first, cut his thumb wide open on a falling cymbal, so the guitar neck was covered in blood for the rest of the set.

Although they were infectiously energetic, there was something missing.  The band has all the right ingredients but seems unsure how to make the soup.  They also drenched the vocals in completely superfluous amounts of reverb and delay.  Lightning Bolt does this, but their vocals are so minimal and ancillary, it makes sense.  When Weekends did it, they just sounded rudderless.  Maybe 25% of the time, the effects made sense, but the rest kind of seemed like the band was trying to disguise their lack of singing abilities (c'mon guys, who cares!  none of the other bands who played friday could sing!).  Maybe they just thought the vocals would work better with the effect-laden guitar that way, but if so, they were mistaken.  The songs would have been more enjoyable if there'd been a vocal line to grab onto.  Without that sort of melodic (or even anti-melodic) spine, the songs sounded amorphous and samey.

Weekends are great, but the whole is less than the sum of the parts.  Although they've been around a few years, they're a fairly young band so I'm hoping it's only a matter of time until they figure out what they're trying to do and fuckin do it.  When they do, they'll be one of the best bands around.

Album: Gold-Bears - Are You Falling In Love

Album: Are You Falling In Love?
Slumberland Records
Release Date: May 17, 2011
Rating: ******** (8/10)

It would be nearly impossible for me to overstate my love of Haribo Gold-Bears candy. The floor of my room is littered with empty gummy bear packages and I've been known to hide stashes of the little bear-chens around my room drug-addict style. When friends come from Europe, they come bearing Bears - at least, if they want to sleep on my couch, they do. So admittedly, I am a bit biased in favor of the new Slumberland band by the same name - I mean, if they are the kind of people who appreciate this candy, they're my kind of people. And really, they do have a fair amount in common with the kindercandy - their sound is technicolor and sugary and makes me smile!

Calling Gold-Bears Atlanta's very own Pains of Being Pure at Heart would be lazy and not entirely accurate, but it's hard to ignore the parallels between the bands. Both are adorable indie pop quartets with catchy melodies buried beneath walls of guitar sound. Both are signed to Slumberland Records. Both feature three white guys and an Asian woman. Both are playing at Cake Shop Thursday for the opening night of NYC Popfest 2011.

But there are some key differences. Gold-Bears' melodies are more nuanced than the Pains - still Chock full o' Hooks, but with a scattering of unexpected notes that shift the emotion of whole songs. Their noise is also different from that of the Pains. The Pains' songs are coated in a shoegazy sheen, while Gold-Bears' songs sink into pools of sonic murk. The result is a much darker sounding album, one where the saccharine poptunes seem barely able to keep their heads above water - relentless bleak/black waves threaten to swallow them entirely.

The best example of this sonic struggle for survival is the title track. Warm blankets of guitar muffle the vocals and drums. But these blankets are at once comforting and dangerous - squeals of feedback peel out of the drone. It's as the though the guitar is some half-wild animal loose in a corral - the band isn't making this sound, just containing it. Indeed, they seem to approach the sound like you would an animal you hope one day to tame - gently coaxing it, patiently nurturing it but respecting that it's a long way from being yours.

There are more than a few songs on Are You Falling that would need only minor adjustments to fit snugly under the "pop-punk" label. In their composition, tunes like "Record Store" and "In this City, I'm Invincible" are all youthful energy; the band's sophisticated sound defines the band as indie pop or post punk, but in terms of songwriting, this band could be mistaken for high-end kiddiepunk. Which may sound like a jab, but it's not meant that way at all - it's far from easy to master songwriting with the consistency displayed on Are You Falling and the deceptively simple, bite-sized and easily digestible song structures are what guide us through the album's more abstruse elements.

In addition, Gold-Bears are succinct and even abrupt. While many "twee" bands shy away from anything startling, these kids aren't afraid of quick starts and stops. The music isn't jerky but when the band decides a song has lived its life, they cut it off and jump into the next without stopping for a breath. It's easy to get swept up in this exhilarating pop rush and it's also refreshing to find a band that seems eager not to waste our time.

Although the lyrics can be hard to make out in the aural fog, they seem to hit your usual indie pop subjects. The beautiful anthem "East Station Attendant" is a classic crush-from-a-distance tale, while "Beside You," a story of confused young love, is a bittersweet goodbye letter to childhood. The naive "Xmas Song" confesses secret insecurities and the restrained "Are You Falling In Love?" is a modern love story, equal parts regret and hope.

From the triumphant (and excellently named) "Totally Called It" to the pleading "Yeah, Tonight," Are You Falling is a heartfelt record of youth trying to make sense of beauty and pain. It's executed with rare talent and rare passion. Sure, it's not the most original album in history and may be a bit sappy for some, but as an exercise in indie pop, it succeeds beautifully. Indeed, it is one of the most accomplished albums in its genre in recent years and it will stay with you long after its (startling) end.

Album: Girls Names - Dead to Me

Album: Dead to Me
Slumberland
Release Date: April 26, 2011
Rating: ******** (8/10)

At this point, it's becoming increasingly difficult to review bands that sound like C86, because I'm starting to feel like I've heard every one of these records before, dozens of times; someone just changed the titles of the tracks.

If you aren't familiar with C86, it's a compilation cassette that was released by NME and Rough Trade Records in 1986. A similar compilation had been released five years prior (C81), but while C81 actually documented the British indie scene in 1981, C86 was less representative and more of an attempt to steer the British indie scene. For better or worse (mostly worse), it succeeded - the scattered jangly guitar bands with their wimpy pop tunes, inspired by forerunners like Orange Juice in Scotland and Young Marble Giants in Wales, coalesced into the twee/anorak/shambling/C86 indie pop movement of the late 80's and early 90's.

The movement, led by Sarah Records and bands like the Field Mice and Heavenly, fizzled out by the mid-90's. The movement did a lot for indie rock - namely, freeing it of the machismo and chauvinism that dominated first hard rock and then punk and then hardcore - and produced some truly great records. The impact of the indie pop movement can still be felt across the indie world: most indie rockers are now ultrawimps and that's been the case since the mid-90's - twee faded out organically when its mission was accomplished and it was no longer relevant.

But suddenly, round about 2008, a whole new generation seemed to discover C86 and Sarah Records. And there's something still relevant about that music, perhaps just the clear message it conveys that anyone can have a band. Plus, there were a lot of forgotten gems that the new wave of indie bands dusted off and brought back to light: Black Tambourine, the Vaselines, etc. But it's three years later, three years of albums with wimpy vocal melodies, shimmery, jangly guitars, low production values and so so so so so so much reverb. Three years of bands with children's haircuts waxing lyrical about the glory days of Sarah and Slumberland, or if they're a little more sophisticated, Rough Trade and Postcard.

So, where does that leave Girls Names full-length debut? The truth is Dead To Me is one of the best C86-styled records of the new generation. It's hard for me to get past the fact that I have to sit through yet another record that sounds exactly like C86, but at least this one begins to do its influences justice.

The record starts out with a very promising stew of melancholy guitar so heavily processed its sounds more like a synthesizer. A swelling cloud of dark noise looms over the guitar, but then suddenly, the cloud breaks giving way to a truly great, clean-guitar riff. In fact, the first 60 seconds or so of the record don't sound like C86 at all.

But it's downhill from there, and fast. For the rest of the first track, muted drums clatter and the vocal melody floats around lazily. It's not bad, it's just been done. A lot. However, there are some noteworthy facets to the song and the two that follow, "I Could Die" and "When You Cry." First, the band is not afraid of being good at guitar, even soloing briefly. Second, the band is not as afraid of noise as many of their counterparts. They don't use much distortion, but their guitars come in and out with overdriven edges that give the music some muscle. Third, their songs are skillfully arranged with contours that propel them forward, instruments carefully entering and exiting, carving out a song that's more than just chords+beat+melody.

A number of the following songs fail to hold attention not because they are poorly constructed songs but because they are so "samey" with each other and with a zillion other bands. "I Lose" is the next track to really grab attention. The track starts with the classic dreamy drum beat of "Just Like Honey" and bright, tremolo'ed (vibrato'ed) chords which do just what an introduction should do, introduce the song, which kicks in after half a minute with sparkling guitar arpeggios and a driving drum beat. The quick guitar and drums are balanced with measured vocals, and periodically trip back to half-temo as Cathal Cully repeats in brilliantly unconvincing terms "I don't miss my old life."

The subsequent songs slip back in the forgettable swamp of samey-ness. To be fair, they are all very well written songs, but they fail to capture the listener's attention. The slower "Kiss Goodbye" stands out for its slight swing. And the closer, "Seance on a Wet Afternoon," from its dark flickering intro, the way it seems to flit between major and minor keys and the depth of noise that grows throughout the track's three minutes, is a worthy finale. In the last seconds of the album, the digital-era effects of the opening 30 seconds make a reappearance, hinting frustratingly at what the album could have been with modern production.

If the band had skipped the low production values and the reverb, this album could have really shined. But the band is condemning themselves, sealing their own fate, by placing themselves decidedly behind a curve, even if they are better than the bands ahead of them. Props to the band for knowing exactly what they're doing though: on their myspace page, they describe their music as "disposable noise pop songs." They also wear their influences on their sleeve: the Pastels, Beat Happening, Josef K, Black Tambourine. But these influences are on the dark and heavy side of indie pop and Dead to Me is the better for it. The album runs deeper than the band's own description would imply. It's just a few years too late to stand out from the crowd the way it deserves to. [MySpace].

Album: Xray Eyeballs - Not Nothing

Album: Not Nothing
Kanine, 2011
Rating: ****** (6/10)

It may not seem fair, but timing is key in the world of pop music. A few years ago, Not Nothing would have been an interesting release but in 2011, the message is loud and clear: "Hi, we're Xray Eyeballs and we're a few years late to the party!" From the first reverbed notes on, Not Nothing identifies itself of a carbon copy of just about every band from the Woodsist-Siltbreeze-In the Red-Captured Tracks-HoZac catalog in the last three or four years, all jangly, lo-fi post punk with, gosh, a lot of reverb. A laundry list of bands to do just this could fill pages, but to name a few: Eat Skull, Vivian Girls, Beach Fossils, Thee Oh Sees, Babies, Dum Dum Girls, Real Estate, Fresh & Onlys, Nodzzz, Woven Bones, Crystal Stilts, Blank Dogs, Woods, Little Girls.....getting the picture?

Xray Eyeballs fall towards the darker end of this spectrum, evoking the discordant noise of Eat Skull (but with slightly less nasty lo-fi-ity) and the haunted post-gothic textures of Blank Dogs (but with no synths). It's that darkness that makes me think I might have enjoyed this if I'd heard it in 2008. But even at its freshest, the reverby lo-fi post-punk was a little stale by its very nature, and after the basic sound has been recycled dozens and dozens of time, there's simply no life left to suck out of it. Yes, Xray Eyeballs inhabit their own little slice of the genre, but it's a narrow slice with a lot of neighbors. The most distinctive aspect of Xray Eyeballs is their sneering, drunken vocal approach, but that alone isn't really enough to hold anyone's attention.

The opening track, "Crystal" starts with the same deep droning rhythm as a particular Bauhaus song (I forget which one [edit: it's "Double Dare"]) but the pace quickly establishes the song as more 1961 pop than 1980 dirge. "Nightwalkers" also takes a cue from the 80's with a riff that's more than a little reminiscent of a particular uptempo Cure song (I forget which one [edit: still can't figure it out, maybe it's not the Cure, but it's definitely something. Someone wanna help me out?]) but again bears more in common with the 60's than the 80's (or at least the 60's via post punkers like the Jesus and Mary Chain, who upped Brian Wilson's Beach Boys reverb to the point where it sounded like everything had been recorded in a cave). The third track, "Egyptian Magician" is a catchy ditty with sparkly guitar and anthemic vocals that are best enjoyed if you can ignore the unbelievably bad lyrics ("Let's take a ride to the sky / let's all get high"). Any momentum gained is sacrificed by the slow, western-inflected and extremely lamentably titled "Po' Jam." Name aside, "Po' Jam" is a valiant effort at a ballad which comes closer than most at pulling back the pace without stagnating. But for all the effort, the results are just so-so.

"Drums Not Dead," apparently named in reference to Liars' 2006 concept album of the same name (plus apostrophe), is one of the album's more interesting tracks. However, it's far more suggestive of lo-fi synthsters Blank Dogs than of Liars (who, unlike Xray Eyeballs, actually produce original and interesting music). In "Drums," the band swaps live drums for a drum machine and drive their plaintive guitar drone even deeper into chorus and reverb. That, in combination with the darkly chanted, lo-fi vocal tracks, makes the song legitimately haunting and would do Mike Sniper proud.

The subsequent tracks, "Broken Beds," "Xray Eyeballs Theme," "Kam Sing Knights," are all catchy, dark pop. The songs are well-structures and the melodies have hooks aplenty. But with a samey sheen and the world's most obvious two and three chord progressions, there's little to differentiate these songs from the similar output of the dozens upon dozens of bands that have been doing this same thing in recent years. Xray Eyeballs have mastered the form, but at this point, it's really hard to care. "Fake Wedding" is a bit of a standout, a bit bolder of a statement, but not by much. The closing track, "Escape from that Girl," is all Velvets and quickly bulldozes any interest you might have had left.

The adjective that best describes Not Nothing is "forgettable." And that has almost everything to do with timing - Xray Eyeballs are latecomers to a very overcrowded party, one that's been simply recycling its own output for several years. Sure, Xray Eyeballs have their own unique balance of these tired flavors, but despite their skill, the ingredients they are using went stale long ago.

Live: Parts and Labor, Zulus, Hunters

When: April 8
Where: Cake Shop

Although many of my favorite NYC bands have gone belly up or at least M.I.A. in the last year, one of the groups still giving me hope is Hunters, an experimental quartet who look like a cool band if you run into them on the street (as I recently did).  They've got "the look" in that slightly scary post-punk mad-scientist-meets-futuristic-slick way, minus all the post-glam trappings of the 1980's British scene.  There's nothing put on about the way Hunters look - they don't seem like one of those bands that sits down to discuss their "image."  They just look cool because they are cool.

Of course, looking edgy, or even looking cohesive, does not make or break a band.  Or at least it shouldn't.  But it can help set the stage for an edgy sound, and that's what Hunters have.  Their music is contradictory: turbid and murky, but somehow not at all muddy; at once stagnant and anarchic.  There is a sort of gothic bleakness about the band, but the music itself is a breakneck jumble of noise.  Live, the band seems a bit standoffish but also driven with an intensity that inevitably sets co-fronters Isabel Ibsen and Derek Watson rolling on the floor in a pseudo-sexual, violent mass of body and guitar.

But at Cake Shop, what caught my attention most was not the band's frenzy (which I've come to expect) but their pop appeal.  The last song of the set was a hooky sing-along, albeit enmeshed in No Wave-inflected chaos and noise.  The genuineness with which the band merges these two conflicting impulses - the catchy, spirited pop and the arty noise freakout - shows a band on the edge of something original and important.  I don't think they're there yet; there's still something unfocused and unarticulated in Hunters' post-post-post-post-post-punk set.  But if they keep moving, they just might end up making music that really matters. [myspace]

Zulus played next.  The band's overall sound was very appealing - massively loud guitars, heavy but with tempos fast enough to keep them from feeling bogged down.  However, with no open space for their songs to breathe, the constant guitar and samey tempos made it hard to disinguish one song from the next after a little while.  Moreover, the band's vocals all sounded like an afterthought, tacked on at the last minute out of deference to convention.  If the band learns to shift their vocals more towards the core of their songwriting and branches out in terms of tempo, they could very easily become an exciting band.  But as of now, they are just "okay." [myspace]

I missed the next band, Puffy Areolas and I kind of regret that, because I am curious about them.  However, the so-so-picky Pepe, who stayed for their set, gave them a non-verbal review of "Eh" and a shrug.  Take that as you will.

While these opening bands don't seem the most obvious picks to open for headliners Parts and Labor, the unifying theme of the night seemed to be sheer volume, and that actually worked to give the line-up so coherence (especially in Cake Shop, which boasts a P.A. powerful enough to cram the basement bar with as much sound as it could possibly hold).

Unlike the previous bands, Parts and Labor are all about cheesy mid-tempo pop songs, with soaring, emotion-laden melodies.  But Parts and Labor doesn't just sound like cheesy love songs, they sound like cheesy love songs with a GIANT ROBOT destroying a major city in the background.  You can hear skyscrapers' steel girders twisting and buildings shattering over concrete.  This post-human aesthetic comes primarily from the electronic wizardry of Dan Friel, a tall bloke with sunny ginger curls and a perpetual smile, who is also responsible for half the band's lead vocals.  New guitarist Tom Martin, a pretty-boy if ever there was one, held his own in his first show with the group, lacing the band's sound with an appropriately processed sheen.

But against this electronic, mechanical atmosphere, drummer Joe Wong (who looks deceptively like a fifth grader with his comb-down haircut and thin-rimmed glasses) adds a far more organic quality to the music.  While the other instruments conjure the man-made structures of urban modernity, the drums evoke an expansive mountain range, with peaks of fills and erupting cymbals over an earthy mantle of deep bass drum and toms.  While unassuming, Wong is one of the best drummers in New York City right now, providing a muscular base for the band's massive sound.  But muscular doesn't mean overly weighty - despite the sheer power of his playing, Wong's fills are lightning quick and his rhythms are in dynamic conversation with the rest of the band, responding to every shift in sound.

The gap between the sci-fi electronics and earthy drums is bridged by B. J. Warshaw, whose bass lines dive as low as music can go - although I cannot figure out if this is accomplished with an octave pedal or if the richness of the tone alone makes the bass sound so deep.  Emerging behind a frizzy beard and thick glasses, Warshaw's vocals are of that strained timbre that's so in vogue in post-2000 indie music.  But in vogue doesn't mean bad, quite the contrary in this case - Warshaw pulls off the slightly high, slightly thin sounding style just as it should be pulled off, creating a sense of vulnerability without resorting to untunefulness.

Parts & Labor's weak spot is always their melodies, and last weekend's show proved no different.  While the band embraces the dramatic open melodies of midtempo pop, their attempts are hit and miss.  When they're on, as with their crowning pop achievement "Nowheres Nigh," which closed the Cake Shop set, they're very, very on.  The melody's simplicity is compelling, but many of the bands' other songs sound adrift and fail to hook the ear.  Of course, if the band always hit the mark, they might become too sappy to bear, but many of their weaker melodies sound more accidentally limp than purposefully slack.

Despite that gaping hole (or at least inconsistency) in their songwriting, Parts & Labor continues to impress.  Part of that undoubtedly comes from the band's own conviction - there is nothing aloof about their delivery.  Each line and each chord sounds deeply felt and that alone draws in the audience in the moment.  Meanwhile, the band's unique sonic landscape, a sort of warm-blooded machine that always seems to be the music's textural protagonist, sets them apart from other heartfelt indie rockers, pushing them from just being moving to being lasting.  [myspace]

Album: The Crystal Stilts - In Love with Oblivion

Album: In Love with Oblivion
Slumberland, 2011
Rating: ***** (5/10)

When I first heard the Crystal Stilts' "Converging in the Quiet" in 2008, I immediately proclaimed them to be the greatest thing, like, ever - both here and to anyone who would listen to me in real life. However, over the following year, I painfully fell out of love with band, due in large part to their arrogant and lazy stage presence and their formulaic song after formulaic song. (The Stilts formula, which bears a striking resemblance to the formula of many other bands with whom the Stilts have shared labels or stages, basically involves a bass line that falls somewhere in the Peter Hook (Joy Division) to C-86 continuum, ultra-jangly guitars and let's-see-how-much-reverb-we-can-possibly-put-on-these low tenor vocals, in case you missed the memo.)

In Love With Oblivion does little to appease my ambivalence towards the band. The album is eleven songs long, but the first two tracks are recycled from previous releases. "Sycamore Tree," okay, that wasn't a proper release, but "Through the Floor"? Really? A demo version of that track appeared on the band's 2008 Woodsist debut. Yes, they've spruced it up a bit since then, but I wouldn't say they've improved it and they certainly haven't dramatically revamped it. This isn't the first time the Stilts have resorted to recycling, though - they also released a watered down version of "Converging in the Quiet" from the same Woodsist release under the name "Departure" on their later Slumberland debut. It's as though the band thinks no one has heard their Woodsist EP and doesn't want any of their songs to go unheard by the casual listener (or like they couldn't write enough new songs for a new album). But save it for your Singles and B-Sides comp, guys.

To their credit, the songs on In Love With Oblivion do expand on the Stilts' old tricks by adding some production tricks and synthesizers (or something). The band also throws around some Spanish-ish modal experiments with mostly positive results. In Love also sees them continuing their trend towards the faster, sadly often without also continuing their parallel trend toward the catchier. A cynic might say the band has moved from imitating Joy Division to imitating another touchstone of underground rock: the Velvet Underground. However, that would be oversimplifying the story.

Despite more creative arrangements, the first few songs on the album feel dull and ultimately forgettable. "Sycamore Tree" has a surfy flavor, while "Through the Floor" is all Jesus and Mary Chain (but with awkward and thankfully low-mixed piano). "Silver Suns" is a gentle, warm song that's certainly well crafted, but it too becomes tarnished when you realize the main guitar riff is just the first half of the riff from "Lady Godiva's Operation" (the Velvets, again) with the rhythm subtly inverted.

"Half A Moon" finally introduces a Stilts that don't sound completely derivative. The song is still vintage in sensibility, but the melodic riff that tears through and the double-speed bass give the Stilts a sound, their sound. The subsequent drama of "Flying into the Sun" and "Shake the Shackles" is a mixed blessing, but the added instrumentation and the striking clarity of that added instrumentation against the Stilts' murk (granted, it would not have striking clarity against any other backdrop) ultimately shows the band pushing in new directions. While they haven't yet arrived, at least they're moving forward. The following track "Precarious Stair," however, while being a well-constructed midtempo pop song at its core, is frankly a mess. While I laud the band's most extreme attempt at branching out to date, timpani and autoharp (?!) are not really the way to go. Continuing the damage, "Invisible City" is based around an untamed organ that comes off as cheesy, almost self-mocking, but without actually being funny or making a statement.

"Blood Barons" picks things up a bit, with a very late-Velvets guitar and a bass-line lifted straight from Suicide's "Ghost Rider" (albeit slightly rhythmically askew from the original). Ripping off two bands at once doesn't generally produce very original sounding results, and it definitely doesn't here. That said, "Blood Barons" is at least catchy.

Closing the album, the piano-based "Prometheus at Large" shows the band again overreaching. Their foray into honky-tonk piano probably comes via songs like the Velvets "I'm Waiting for the Man," especially judging from the again very Velvets-inflected guitar (this time, recalling the Velvets' earlier scratchy, spastic freakouts). However, while Lou Reed and company could actually pull off some boogie woogie behind the keys, the Stilts lack the black culture roots or sincerity to pull it off. As always, the band sounds three times removed in a cloud of aloof irony, obscure (or not so obscure) reference points and oh so much reverb - only with the piano backing, they actually sound kind of racist doing it.

The one bright spot on the album (although "bright" is actually the very wrong word to describe it) is the seven minute plus "Alien Rivers." Here, the band's postpunk model finally reaches its potential. Although I'm not usually a fan of long songs, "Alien Rivers" is a misty and foreboding bass-driven masterpiece that shows the band's growth far more organically than the albums' later tracks do - here, the experimental elements roll out with subtlety and control throughout the song as though the band is actually drifting downriver into some dark and alien forest. At fourth, the song comes a little early in the album to be called its "centerpiece" but "Rivers" definitely fills that role. Gloomy bass a la Joy Division, PIL or even Bauhaus melds seamlessly with a sinister tango-ing organ and Old West guitar. The drama of these three instruments, while recalling three distinctly different styles, fits together neatly in that enigmatic combination of tongue-in-cheek gloom-and-doom and sincere misery originally perfected in postpunk England. Four and a half of this album's five stars come from this track, but with its length and subtly, it is very much an album track that only truly makes sense in the context of the sub-par remainder of the album.

With blatant rip-offs around every corner, In Love with Oblivion is somewhat challenging for anyone versed in classic underground pop. Nevertheless, it's an enjoyable listen at most points and even manages to be remarkable at a few. Don't break the bank for this one, but don't give up on the Stilts quite yet.

Live: Deerhoof & Xiu Xiu (a really long time ago)

Alright, time to get the blood flowing again. Here's an old review I never ran of a live show that happened a long time ago but is still worth writing about.

When: July something
Where: Williamsburg Waterfront

Even thought of someone covering Unknown Pleasures makes me seethe. It's my favorite album ever of all time and anyone who thinks they are worthy of going NEAR it has as good as committed blasphemy in my mind. Part of me knows Ian Curtis was just a guy and deifying Joy Division is not exactly rational. But still, on an emotional level, Unknown Pleasures is sacred ground to me, and it's off limits for any mortal.

But, if I were going to pick two bands worthy of attempting to cover the album, Xiu Xiu and Deerhoof would surely not be far down the list. Two of the boldest, most innovative and most sincere bands to emerge in the last decade, Xiu Xiu and Deerhoof might have earned their chance to attempt this show. In some ways, that just raised the stakes, though, because if these bands couldn't pull of the seemingly impossible, it might ruin both for me forever.

But as soon as they started playing, my doubt melted away. The first notes switched on a magnet that pulled me towards the stage with a force I couldn't resist. The album opens with my single favorite song of all time, "Disorder." And as the harshest critic you could probably find, I have to say, they pulled it off.

Throughout the show, the band did justice to Joy Division's first masterpiece. Xiu Xiu's Jamie Stewart certainly embraces the spirit of Ian Curtis in his work, but he doesn't imitate him. Stewart's link to Curtis is not a put-on; he's genuinely a messed up individual with nervous, despairing, captivating energy. He constantly seems on the verge of breaking. That feeling of sickening tension is exactly what makes Joy Division such a riveting listen. It's a hard thing to capture genuinely, and most bands who try (Interpol, Crystal Stilts) come off (to me) as glorified cover bands.

The backing instruments matched Stewart's emotional, edgy performance, staying true to the spirit of the music and not rewriting anything. But despite their loyalty to the structure of each song, they did make the music their own, draping the skeleton of each track with their own layers of noise and sonic experimentation. Some songs, like "Disorder," stayed close to the original on every level, while at other times (e.g. "Day of the Lords," "New Dawn Fades"), the musicians on stage filled in their own interpretation of the original clouds of sound that fill the album.

Unknown Pleasures speaks to me in a way no other album ever has. Xiu Xiu and Deerhoof's performance didn't come close to that level of affecting, but their performance was still powerful and heartfelt. I never thought I'd admit anyone was worthy of playing a show like this but I have to say, it was a great concert that only increased my love for both these bands and for the original album as well.

By the way, Fang Island and Why? opened. Fang Island is a lot of guys playing crazy-ass guitar stuff, some hybrid of post-rock and metal. On each song, the guitars and synth built on one another to make a huge, heavy and surprisingly emotive sound. At times, the band seemed to tug at the heartstrings a little too much - the drama because an overdone trick. But overall, the complex, intertwining lines of guitars and synth were a good listen and the anthemic, booming songs rocked for real. Not really thing I'd write home about, but definitely a talented and enjoyable band.

Why? is pretty rad. Straddling indie rap and indie rock, the band uses big, open hip-hop beats and rhythmic vocals, but with a good deal of singing and rock instrumentation. I was surprised by the number of people in the touring band the extent to which Why?'s sound was created live, rather than with samples and electronics as with most rap acts. To be totally honest, all those musicians kind of made the band less cool. Vocalist Yoni Wolfe's brother Josiah on drums is pretty amazing to watch: he's added a vibraphone (essentially a metal xylophone) to the standard kit, and it's got to take tremendous skill to play melodies on that while also taking care of all the drumming. Yoni Wolfe himself is fun to watch. His songs are humorous and clever but with passion and a fair amount of self-deprecation. His live performance lived up to (but did not surprise) his recorded work - emotional, honest and smart. Still, I wouldn't say seeing Why? live is essential for casual fans. It's just about what you'd expect.

Upcoming Shows: Black Wine, Pop 1280 + more

[Upcoming Shows Playlist]
TONIGHT! Friday, June 4

Black Wine, The Measure SA, Slingshot Dakota @ Death By Audio * Williamsburg, Brooklyn * $6
Black Wine are a punk band with good songs that are occasionally slightly emo but not in a bad way at all, actually in a really awesome way. The Measure are a poppy punk band that aren't quite as great as they should be but have fun and want you to have fun too. Slingshot Dakota are an emotive punk duo on keys and drums. This line-up is FUCKING AWESOME. [bw band] [measure myspace] [sd myspace]


Saturday, June 5

Pop 1280 @ Death By Audio * Williamsburg, Brooklyn
Someone told me this band was good. My impression is that they are heavy and dark and unsettling. Go see them. [myspace]

Brian Jonestown Massacre @ Music Hall of Williamsburg * Wililamsburg, Brooklyn * $25
BJM are a psychedelic indie band with one fuckin' crazy dude named Anton Newcombe who has done a very lot of drugs. As with any band on a lot of drugs, they have the potential to suck live, but as with only a few bands, they also have the potential to be awesome. [myspace]


Sunday, June 6

So So Glos @ Death By Audio * Williamsburg, Brooklyn
Loveable Brooklyn bros with anthemic hardcore. [myspace]


Tuesday, June 8

Fiasco @ Death by Audio * Williamsburg, Brooklyn
As always, all the best shows are at Death By Audio. Fiasco are a young math trio whose musical skill matured before their taste, but they are exciting and loud and get better with every show. [myspace]

[Upcoming Shows Playlist]
The long view...

June
11
Jeff the Brotherhood, PC Worship @ Death By Audio
Hunters @ Monster Island Basement
Friendo @ Cake Shop

13
Friendo @ Glasslands

14
Coyote Eyes @ Cake Shop

15
Dan Deacon @ Red Hook Park

18
Marnie Stern, Anni Rossi, True Womahood @ Glasslands
Pissed Jeans @ Cake Shop

19
Pissed Jeans, Pop. 1280 @ Death by Audio
Melvins + Isis @ Music Hall of Williamsburg

24
Wavves @ Knitting Factory

25
Fiery Furnaces @ Brooklyn Bowl
Silversun Pickups, Against Me! @ Williamsburg Waterfront

26
Fiery Furnaces @ Mercury Lounge
Titus Andronicus @ Newtown Barge Park
Liars, Fucked Up, High Places @ Newtown Barge Park

27
Les Savy Fav, Polvo @ Newtown Barge Park

July
6
B-52s @ Highline Ballroom

11
The Roots, Talib Kweli @ Prospect Park

13
Cheap Trick @ Radio City Music Hall

16
Weezer @ Williamsburg Waterfront

17
Siren Fest: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Matt & Kim, Ted Leo, Surfer Blood @ Coney Island

22
Antlers, Dinosaur Feathers @ Pier 54

23
Modest Mouse @ Williamsburg Waterfront

24
M.I.A., Sleigh Bells @ Governors Island

26
Flaming Lips @ Central Park

27
Black Keys @ Central Park
The National, Beach House @ Prospect Park

28
Black Keys @ Central Park

30
Big Takeover: Springhouse @ Bell House

31
Sonic Youth, Grass Widow, Talk Normal @ Prospect Park
Big Takeover: Springhouse, For Against @ Bell House

August
12
Gang Gang Dance, Grizzly Bear, Walkmen @ Governors Island

15
Public Enemy @ Central Park

17
MGMT @ Radio City Music Hall

18
MGMT @ Radio City Music Hall

[Upcoming Shows Playlist]

Album: Beach Fossils - Beach Fossils

Album: Beach Fossils
Captured Tracks, 2010
Rating: ******* (7/10)

Here's a shocker! I don't hate the Beach Fossils album (self-titled, out today). I really thought I would, cause when I saw this band live, they just annoyed me and my tolerance has certainly not grown over time. But I have to admit, this album has its moments that are not just passable, but actually good.

Now, let's not get carried away. Beach Fossils still sound pretty much like the 9,000 other reverby, lo-fi-ish indie bands that are so popular right now. You know, the kind that make up 95% of Todd P bills and 50% of Stereogum playlists. But as I remarked after the last show, this band is definitely better in than most of them - they have good songs and hooky melodies and even some variance, track to track.

The opening track, though hitting it off in a major key, seems to herald something subtly sinister. Post-punk darkness casts a shadow over the sound. In fact, despite the name, this band little to do with surf and sun - the jangly reverb may take a page from Brian Wilson's book, but the melodies are more British post punk and even C86 than they are surf. In other (non-geek) words, the tunes are at once tight and open, warm and melancholy. "Vacation" is the perfect example - measured vocal harmonies over sparkling, appreggiated guitar chords and a quick but hushed, marchy beat.

A little further on, "Twelve Roses" finds the guitar with a richer, more immediate tone while a simple earworm of sung melody rings out in warm layers. "Daydream" falls in and out of step in a touchingly human way, while "Golden Age" kicks out a stronger beat over which guitar and vocals meld to almost indistinguishable tones. Near the end, the explorative guitar riff and sad singing of "Wide Awake" obscure a soft, intensely poignant bass line.

The album also has its share of forgettable tracks, especially arriving as it does in the heyday of its genre. The jazzy bass on the closer, "Gathering," is way overdone (despite being low in the mix) while songs like "Youth" and "Window View" fail to stand out from so many similar songs by similar bands on similar albums.

Still, if we're going to pay attention to anyone in this bloated DIY scene, it may as well be Beach Fossils. There are some moments of real beauty and meaning on Beach Fossils and some signs of real talent. Do you need this album? No. But if this kind of stuff floats your boat, throw out Real Estate and make space on the shelf for these guys.

[myspace]

Upcoming Shows: Eye and Ear vs. PopFest (The Ultimate Indie Showdown) + more

[Upcoming Shows Playlist]
TOMORROW!!! Friday, May 21

Fuck Buttons @ Music Hall of Williamsburg * Williamsburg, Brooklyn * $16/$18
Fuck Buttons are a wack electronic duo that make highly experimental, loud, droning and pulsing noise. If you like that stuff, these guys are among the best. [myspace]


Saturday, May 22

Pterodactyl @ Cake Shop * LES, Manhattan * $10
High-speed, weightless, LOUD noise rock from some of Brooklyn's best musicians, Pterodactyl make music that's fascinating for your brain and endlessly ecstatic for your heart. They put on a GREAT live show. [myspace]

NYC PopFest: Wake, Boat, My Teenage Stride + more @ Bell House * Gowanus, Brooklyn * $15/$18
Interestingly, NY Eye and Ear Fest and NYC PopFest fall on the same weekend this year, and that's this coming weekend. Eye and Ear focuses on the strange, dark and experimental while PopFest focuses on, well, pop, of the indie variety. Despite having Blank Dogs on Saturday, Eye and Ear's line-up loses to PopFest for the night (they win on Sunday, though - see below). That seems unlikely, but the Wake and Boat are both a rare sight in this town. The Wake recently reformed after fifteen years off. Historically, they're less indie pop and more post punk and even goth. They lasted from the early 80's to the mid-nineties, several lifetimes for most twee projects. And they released music on Factory FUCKING Records. Boat are newer and from Seattle and are among the best indie poppers of this new generation. And then you've got NYC mainstay My Teenage Stride to add some bonus points to the line-up - their shouty indie pop will make you smile, I promise. [Note: Don't look at the PopFest website because that's from 2008.] [wake myspace] [boat myspace] [mts myspace]

New York Dolls @ Warsaw * Greenpoint, Brooklyn * $35
The New York Dolls, along with the Dictators, bridged the gap from sleazy glam rock to punk.

Fuck Buttons @ Le Poisson Rouge * Greenwich Village, Manhattan * $15
See above.


Sunday, May 23

NY Eye & Ear Fest: GDFX, Led Er Est, Freshkills, Hunters + many more @ Knitting Factory * Williamsburg, Brooklyn * $17
Yeah, Eye & Ear beats PopFest on Sunday with a killer line-up including the lovely and dark drones of GDFX, one Greg Fox, an NYC musicians' favorite. Freshkills kick out the JAMZ with nervous, sharp guitar-driven post-punk and some dramatic, melodic vocals. And of course, my personal favorites: for one, the ice cold, pitch black electro of Led Er Est, one of NYC's most promising and underrated bands. [canceled, or I hallucinated their name on the listing] And for two, Hunters, featuring Isabel Ibsen of Beluga and Odell Nails of Mahogany. The sound is much closer to the former - that is, insane punk rawk, but Hunters have more intense musicianship and more complex compositions that Ibsen's other project. Or that's what they were doing back when I heard them ages ago. Oh, and there's a whole lot more bands playing too. [gdfx myspace] [fresh myspace] [led myspace] [hunt myspace]


Tuesday, May 25

Werewolves, Soft Black @ Death By Audio * Williamsburg, Brooklyn
I love Werewolves. They net all the good things psychedelic music has been over the decades, from the Doors to Pink Floyd to Echo & the Bunnymen to My Bloody Valentine, and weave it all together to create something totally fresh and new. Soft Black plays more old school psych rock meets folk/country a la Neil Young and James Taylor (the vocals are definitely more James Taylor). [ww myspace] [sb myspace]

[Upcoming Shows Playlist]
The long view...

May
27
Dan Deacon, Big Trouble, Dustin Wong (Ponytail) @ Cake Shop
Forgetters @ Bell House

28
Holy Fuck @ Le Poisson Rouge

29
Psych Fest: Weird Owl (yay), Hopewell (blech), Golden Triangle (blech), Psychic Ills (yay), Sunburned Hand of the Man (yay) + more @ Glasslands

June
1
Coltrane Motion @ Bruar Falls

4
Grouper @ Issue Project Room
Psychedelic Furs @ the Fillmore

6
Brian Jonestown Massacre @ Webster Hall

11
Friendo @ Cake Shop

13
Friendo @ Glasslands

15
Dan Deacon @ Red Hook Park

18
Marnie Stern, Anni Rossi @ Glasslands

19
Melvins + Isis @ Music Hall of Williamsburg

24
Wavves @ Knitting Factory

25
Fiery Furnaces @ Brooklyn Bowl
Silversun Pickups, Against Me! @ Williamsburg Waterfront

26
Fiery Furnaces @ Mercury Lounge
Titus Andronicus @ Newtown Barge Park
Liars, Fucked Up, High Places @ Newtown Barge Park

27
Les Savy Fav, Polvo @ Newtown Barge Park

29
Passion Pit, Tokyo Police Club @ Prospect Park

30
Passion Pit, Tokyo Police Club @ Governors Island

July
6
B-52s @ Highline Ballroom

11
The Roots, Talib Kweli @ Prospect Park

13
Cheap Trick @ Radio City Music Hall

16
Weezer @ Williamsburg Waterfront

17
Siren Fest: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Matt & Kim, Ted Leo, Surfer Blood @ Coney Island

22
Antlers, Dinosaur Feathers @ Pier 54

23
Modest Mouse @ Williamsburg Waterfront

24
M.I.A., Sleigh Bells @ Governors Island

26
Flaming Lips @ Central Park

27
Black Keys @ Central Park
The National, Beach House @ Prospect Park

28
Black Keys @ Central Park

30
Big Takeover: Springhouse @ Bell House

31
Sonic Youth, Grass Widow, Talk Normal @ Prospect Park
Big Takeover: Springhouse, For Against @ Bell House

August
12
Gang Gang Dance, Grizzly Bear, Walkmen @ Governors Island

15
Public Enemy @ Central Park

17
MGMT @ Radio City Music Hall

18
MGMT @ Radio City Music Hall

[Upcoming Shows Playlist]