I really can't get it up for many of the shows this week, except the Breeders last night and tonight at Bowery. And that's very sold out, though I suppose it's worth a try.
Friday, August 21
Antlers @ Mercury Lounge | LES, Manhattan | SOLD OUT
This show is sold out, but if you can find a way to go, I'd recommend it. This is the album release party for Hospice, which is one of the definitive albums of the last decade. The band is pretty good live, too. It's amazing to see just three guys make all those sounds you hear on the recordings. [MySpace]
Saturday, August 22
Blank Dogs, Ex-Humans @ Don Pedro's | Bushwick, Brooklyn
Why Blank Dogs would play such a venue is anyone's guess. Don Pedro's doesn't exactly have a great reputation among Brooklyn bands. But that's not what's important. What's important is the gothy lo-fi of Blank Dogs is unparalleled and you should check it out. And yeah, I know I haven't had the most positive reaction to the live shows in the past, but 1) I hear there may be some significant changes afoot for Blank Dogs as a live act and 2) just because the shows aren't as good as the albums doesn't mean they aren't better than most other bands' shows around. [MySpace]
There are some shows coming up further down the line that are worth putting on your calendar and, if possible, getting tickets for before they sell out:
August 30
Lightning Bolt @ 979 Broadway | Bushwick, Brooklyn | $12
An afternoon show from one of the best guitar bands in, like, years. [MS]
September 1
Screaming Females @ Mercury Lounge | Manhattan | $10*
Another one of the best guitar bands in years. And they're up-and-coming fast, so check them out while you can still see them somewhere reasonably small. [MS]
September 9
Naked Raygun @ Music Hall of Williamsburg | Brooklyn | $15*/$18
One of the great bands of the American Underground, Naked Raygun ruled the hardcore/indie scene in Chicago. [MS]
September 13
Feelies @ Southpaw | Park Slope, Brooklyn | $25*
The Feelies defined the jangly "Hoboken Pop" of the 1980's, balancing pioneering noise with catchy melodies and uptempos. Twenty-five bucks is a lot, but at least it's a double set. [MS]
September 14
Autolux @ Bowery Ballroom | Manhattan | $15*
If you like shoegazy alt-rock walls of sound and massive songs, look no further. [MS] (Actually, do look further on this list, there's more for you...)
September 15
Autolux @ Music Hall of Williamsburg | Brooklyn | $15*
See above. [MS]
Zeros + Jemina Pearl @ Southpaw | Park Slope, Brooklyn | $15*
The Zeros are one of the classic late 70's LA punk bands, and one of the only presently touring with their original line-up intact. [MS]
September 19
..And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead + Secret Machines @ Music Hall of Williamsburg | Brooklyn | $20*
If you like shoegazy alt-rock walls of sound and massive songs, look no further. (This time I mean it.) [MS]
September 24
Wavves + Ganglians @ Santos Party House | Manhattan | $12*
Wavves make lo-fi, surfy, poppy, noisy, fiercely independent punk. They are one of the very, very best bands to emerge in 2008/2009. They are playing a Todd P show (venue TBA) the next day, though, if you prefer the DIY setting. [MS]
*Advance tickets available online
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
E-mail Subscriptions Now Working Again
Apparently that little e-mail subscription thing on the left wasn't working for a while. It's fixed.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Album: The Antlers - Hospice
I originally published this review in February. Hospice is rereleased today on Frenchkiss Records.
Album: Hospice
self-released Frenchkiss, 2009
Rating: *********' (9.5/10)
When I first listened to the Antlers in late 2008, I shrugged it off as nothing special, but Pop Tarts Suck Toasted was carrying on about this album at such length that I decided to give it a listen. And I was completely taken aback by what I heard.
Hospice is not only an outstanding album, it's one of the most exciting releases since the 90's. I wavered on the rating - sometimes leaning towards 10/10 to help get it into the spotlight it deserves, other times thinking 9/10 would be more appropriate - it's far from perfect and far from the level of the masterpieces it references. In the end, I settled on 9.5 - the highest rating I've given an album to date and also the first time I have ever used a half point. The reason? This album is the most worthy of your attention of any I have ever reviewed (on this blog or elsewhere) - but I don't want to believe this is as good as it's going to get. I want to believe another Loveless or Aeroplane Over The Sea is in the works, and I'm saving the 10/10 for that. But in this meantime, we have this, and this is something.
But to say I enjoy or even like Hospice would be misleading. In fact, it is easily the most unsettling album I have heard in years and for several weeks, it consumed me, even triggering the return of nightmares I thought I had shaken long ago. It's an intensely haunting, profoundly affecting album that will stay with listeners long after the final notes.
On the surface, Hospice is a concept album that intertwines stories of terminal cancer, mental illness and dissolution of a relationship into dysfunction and cruelty. Where these tales intersect is the painful truth that love does not conquer all. The record documents songwriter Peter Silberman's growing awareness of this immutable fact, revealing not only feelings of heartbreak and helplessness, but also, and most importantly, a pervading guilt. The narrator's point of view is always that of a caretaker, seeking to heal, to comfort, to save, and the entire album reads as a confession of failure.
Sonically, Hospice is a creeping ambient lo-fi, as if Radiohead had recorded OK Computer in Thom Yorke's basement. At some moments it assaults the eardrums, while at others, it replicates the shaky hum of life-support machines. But mostly, it is full of subtle sounds breaking up, faltering and struggling under the weight of the album's pain. It is this, the struggle of each sound, that sets Hospice apart from such reference points as OK Computer and Arcade Fire's Funeral. Hospice's best beats are built with shards of static and noise and mixed with such restraint that many listeners may not even notice a drum track at all. Synthesized sounds are prominent, but they never seem like a cheap trick - instead, they mimic the oppressive sterility of the album's hospital setting. The use of horns may be an overblown nod to Neutral Milk Hotel but it's restrained enough to forgive and the other sounds - the weakly bowed banjo, thudding piano chords and shivering guitars - are more inspired. All are masterfully executed.
Over the uneasy ambiance, Silberman's voice carries the album. His high crooning is clear and controlled, but although his tunes and tone are spot-on, there's something unsteady about his delivery - it's the wavering of a young voice delivering painful and personal words. And there is good variety alongside the consistency in his voice, ranging from the surprising dramatics on "Sylvia" to the intimate, homey delivery of "Shiva."
The songwriting on the album is imperfect - the often-understated melodies and the album's tempo make it hard to tie everything nicely together. I think this explains why I didn't get drawn in by Hospice's two singles ("Two" and "Bear") when they were released. But viewing the album as a whole, it becomes much more coherent. Melodies are recycled as Silberman revisits stories and ideas, and viewed in this context, most of the tracks do become memorable, each a unique step in the album's journey.
The only really bad song on the whole album is "Thirteen." The first half is an experiment in loud ambiance that doesn't seem to move the album forward. The second is a short song sung by Silberman and guest vocalist Sharon van Etten. Van Etten is a beautiful singer but the sudden introduction of female vocals is jarring, and the addition of a woman's voice to sing a song subtitled "Sylvia Speaks" takes the album's concept to a level of literalism that is, frankly, goofy.
However, this track is the only outstanding mistake. Hospice's two singles and the album track "Sylvia" are all high points, with engaging rhythms and melodies, identifiable choruses and foot-tappable tempos. And even these are outdone by less structured and more intense tracks like "Atrophy" and "Wake." Rising in and out of murky noise, these songs contain many of Silberman's most uncomfortable revelations.
"Wake" comes second-to-last and marks the climax of the story. It is the album's only true moment of absolution: "Some patients can't be saved / But that burden's not on you / Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve this." Whenever I listen, it takes a few repetitions for the last line to really sink in, and when it does, it usually brings me to (or past) the brink of tears. Anyone who needs to hear these words needs to hear them over and over again before they can begin to believe it. And when I say "needs," I mean that - for the listeners with whom Hospice resonates (and I know I won't be the only one), this moment, this final refrain, is necessary.
But then again, it's not the final refrain. There is one more track, an understated nightmare that draws narrator and listener alike back into the album's underlying terror. It's not that nothing has been accomplished, it's just that healing is a process without an end. Hospice is mercilessly honest - scars will remain, wounds will reopen and everything will not be alright. Though the emotional strides of Hospice are immense, Silberman seems to realize they are dwarfed by the enormity of the task at hand.
A work of remarkable maturity and profound vision, Hospice doesn't sound like the product of musicians barely in their 20's. Perhaps it's the youth of the members, however, that gives the music its kick - a subtle kick, surely, but enough to hold my famously short attention. It's an imperfect work, of course, but it's still a rare and exciting accomplishment. It's musicians like these who will lead us out of indie rock's dead ends and on a personal level, who will help us mend from life's damages and carry on.
[Antlers on MySpace]
Album: Hospice
Rating: *********' (9.5/10)
When I first listened to the Antlers in late 2008, I shrugged it off as nothing special, but Pop Tarts Suck Toasted was carrying on about this album at such length that I decided to give it a listen. And I was completely taken aback by what I heard.
Hospice is not only an outstanding album, it's one of the most exciting releases since the 90's. I wavered on the rating - sometimes leaning towards 10/10 to help get it into the spotlight it deserves, other times thinking 9/10 would be more appropriate - it's far from perfect and far from the level of the masterpieces it references. In the end, I settled on 9.5 - the highest rating I've given an album to date and also the first time I have ever used a half point. The reason? This album is the most worthy of your attention of any I have ever reviewed (on this blog or elsewhere) - but I don't want to believe this is as good as it's going to get. I want to believe another Loveless or Aeroplane Over The Sea is in the works, and I'm saving the 10/10 for that. But in this meantime, we have this, and this is something.
But to say I enjoy or even like Hospice would be misleading. In fact, it is easily the most unsettling album I have heard in years and for several weeks, it consumed me, even triggering the return of nightmares I thought I had shaken long ago. It's an intensely haunting, profoundly affecting album that will stay with listeners long after the final notes.
On the surface, Hospice is a concept album that intertwines stories of terminal cancer, mental illness and dissolution of a relationship into dysfunction and cruelty. Where these tales intersect is the painful truth that love does not conquer all. The record documents songwriter Peter Silberman's growing awareness of this immutable fact, revealing not only feelings of heartbreak and helplessness, but also, and most importantly, a pervading guilt. The narrator's point of view is always that of a caretaker, seeking to heal, to comfort, to save, and the entire album reads as a confession of failure.
Sonically, Hospice is a creeping ambient lo-fi, as if Radiohead had recorded OK Computer in Thom Yorke's basement. At some moments it assaults the eardrums, while at others, it replicates the shaky hum of life-support machines. But mostly, it is full of subtle sounds breaking up, faltering and struggling under the weight of the album's pain. It is this, the struggle of each sound, that sets Hospice apart from such reference points as OK Computer and Arcade Fire's Funeral. Hospice's best beats are built with shards of static and noise and mixed with such restraint that many listeners may not even notice a drum track at all. Synthesized sounds are prominent, but they never seem like a cheap trick - instead, they mimic the oppressive sterility of the album's hospital setting. The use of horns may be an overblown nod to Neutral Milk Hotel but it's restrained enough to forgive and the other sounds - the weakly bowed banjo, thudding piano chords and shivering guitars - are more inspired. All are masterfully executed.
Over the uneasy ambiance, Silberman's voice carries the album. His high crooning is clear and controlled, but although his tunes and tone are spot-on, there's something unsteady about his delivery - it's the wavering of a young voice delivering painful and personal words. And there is good variety alongside the consistency in his voice, ranging from the surprising dramatics on "Sylvia" to the intimate, homey delivery of "Shiva."
The songwriting on the album is imperfect - the often-understated melodies and the album's tempo make it hard to tie everything nicely together. I think this explains why I didn't get drawn in by Hospice's two singles ("Two" and "Bear") when they were released. But viewing the album as a whole, it becomes much more coherent. Melodies are recycled as Silberman revisits stories and ideas, and viewed in this context, most of the tracks do become memorable, each a unique step in the album's journey.
The only really bad song on the whole album is "Thirteen." The first half is an experiment in loud ambiance that doesn't seem to move the album forward. The second is a short song sung by Silberman and guest vocalist Sharon van Etten. Van Etten is a beautiful singer but the sudden introduction of female vocals is jarring, and the addition of a woman's voice to sing a song subtitled "Sylvia Speaks" takes the album's concept to a level of literalism that is, frankly, goofy.
However, this track is the only outstanding mistake. Hospice's two singles and the album track "Sylvia" are all high points, with engaging rhythms and melodies, identifiable choruses and foot-tappable tempos. And even these are outdone by less structured and more intense tracks like "Atrophy" and "Wake." Rising in and out of murky noise, these songs contain many of Silberman's most uncomfortable revelations.
"Wake" comes second-to-last and marks the climax of the story. It is the album's only true moment of absolution: "Some patients can't be saved / But that burden's not on you / Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve this." Whenever I listen, it takes a few repetitions for the last line to really sink in, and when it does, it usually brings me to (or past) the brink of tears. Anyone who needs to hear these words needs to hear them over and over again before they can begin to believe it. And when I say "needs," I mean that - for the listeners with whom Hospice resonates (and I know I won't be the only one), this moment, this final refrain, is necessary.
But then again, it's not the final refrain. There is one more track, an understated nightmare that draws narrator and listener alike back into the album's underlying terror. It's not that nothing has been accomplished, it's just that healing is a process without an end. Hospice is mercilessly honest - scars will remain, wounds will reopen and everything will not be alright. Though the emotional strides of Hospice are immense, Silberman seems to realize they are dwarfed by the enormity of the task at hand.
A work of remarkable maturity and profound vision, Hospice doesn't sound like the product of musicians barely in their 20's. Perhaps it's the youth of the members, however, that gives the music its kick - a subtle kick, surely, but enough to hold my famously short attention. It's an imperfect work, of course, but it's still a rare and exciting accomplishment. It's musicians like these who will lead us out of indie rock's dead ends and on a personal level, who will help us mend from life's damages and carry on.
[Antlers on MySpace]
Monday, August 17, 2009
Album: Jay Reatard - Watch Me Fall
Album: Watch Me Fall
Matador, 2009
Rating: ******* (7/10)
If Watch Me Fall were the first thing I'd heard of Jay Reatard, it would be pretty mindblowing. The album is a series of top-notch lo-fi pop songs, in that rare vein of lo-fi pop that isn't wussy. Among the recent explosion of lo-fi/noise pop/noise punk bands, Reatard certainly numbers among the best songwriters out there.
Also in comparison to that crowd (Wavves, Times New Viking, Kurt Vile, Blank Dogs, etc.), he's not the lowest fi, nor the noisiest. His music is aggressive and at times intentionally hard to swallow, but sonically, it's palatable. The more challenging elements are Reatard's vocal delivery and the album's ornery subject matter. He doesn't have the air of cool that many recent lo-fiers cultivate, and the vulnerability he achieves in his music is at once refreshing and alarming after a slew of detached albums in the genre.
Where Watch Me Fall disappoints is its failure to step beyond the boundaries of earlier Reatard releases. Though the album features some of Reatard's best songs, it's ultimately not a step forward. We could all use more good songs like these, but it's hard to get excited about an album that sounds so familiar, even if it also sounds this good.
The record opens strongly with the forward, melodic punk of "It Ain't Gonna Save Me." The mid-disc highlight is "I'm Watching You," which takes the tempo down just a notch to open up the sound and make the composition one of Reatard's largest. Other songs, like "Rotten Mind" and "There Is No Sun" showcase the songwriter's signature negativity as charmingly as ever (and that's not sarcastic).
Watch Me Fall is a solid and enjoyable album and I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys Reatard's 2008 Matador Singles compilation (which is the best place for new listeners to start). Just don't get your hopes up that he'll break new ground. Then again, the old ground covered is pretty damn good.
[MySpace]
Live: Pterodactyl, the Fucking Ocean
When: 8/7/09
Where: Death By Audio
For no reason beyond the band's name, I've wanted to check out the Fucking Ocean for some time now. Of course, the night they share the stage with Pterodactyl at Death By Audio, only the city's best DIY venue, was a pretty good time to do that.
In truth, the Fucking Ocean didn't literally share the stage with Pterdactyl, setting up instead on the floor of the show. I don't know if that was to speed up the transition or if it's just how they roll, but unfortunatley, it caused pretty serious visibility issues that did detract from the show.
The Fucking Ocean consists of three multi-instrumentalists, namely Matt Swagler, John Nguyen, and Marcella Gries. In the course of their set, they went through most (but not all) of the permutations possible with three people and three instruments. I appreciated the fact that the band ordered their songs so that they would not have to change instruments between every song, reducing downtime and keeping the noise buidling.
At their best, Gries was on bass, playing massive, metalloid riffs at light speed, while Swagler's frantic drumming pushed the music to its limits. The guitar covered everything from punk to metal to noise-rock to post-rock, sometimes within a single phrase, and whole combination was puncuated by sharp, yelling vocals. Though both weighty and frenzied, the band managed to keep a melodic appeal and at times, a sense of groove. It's still not easy music, but it's not inaccessibly harsh or avant-garde.
The band is great, and the show's biggest problems had nothing to do with the band's music. The worst problems with the set were with the band's presentation. First of all, Swagler was wearing a skirt, which is something a lot radical, left-wing boys think is cool - that's great, but most rightfully outgrow that phase after age 16. In this instance, it was distracting and detracted from the excellent music.
Worse than that, the band - and especially Swagler - found it appropriate to tell us what their songs were "about" between numbers. Their songs are aparently about political issues. I detest like political music - that is, music that addresses politics in the abstract. All music is political, and should be, but when it comes in the form of rhetoric, and songs are "about" something that can be summarized in a short sentence, it feels preachy and even cowardly. As an art form, music should transcend simplistic axioms. And the sad thing is, if the band had just refrained from translating their songs for us ("this one is about..."), I would never have known and would have enjoyed the set much more.
Musically, the band is still amazing and I highly recommend you see them. I just also recommend trying to ignore anything they might say between songs. [MySpace]
When Pterodactyl took the stage, I had a pretty clear idea of what to expect, having heard the band several times in the last few months. Or so I thought.
But I should have known a band as good as Pterodactyl wouldn't let themselves get too comfortable. Now a trio (permanently?), the band has transformed their songs on every level. The band's punky, rhythmically complex, high-speed, intense, repetitive, manic sound endures, but this performance was by far the most aggressive and noisiest I've seen to date. They have begun abusing their guitars and amps (in a good way) to achieve a highly experimental, improvisational sound.
It's rare and ballsy to hear a band push themselves forward as artists when they could instead coast praise and hype. The set at DBA was nothing short of mindblowing for fans like me, who heard music we already loved set on fire with new intensity.
So far, the band has done well, though I hope they also know the limits of the direction they are moving in. Already, they are hovering near that edge of reinvention where those not familiar with the songs' original versions might end up lost, and where each track could lose its focus as noise obscures the hectic melodicism that makes Pterodactyl great. They aren't there yet - so far the changes have been positive. But they are at an edge that could be pivotal and I hope the band will not lose their focus. They have a number of shows coming up this fall, so I guess we'll find out then. [MySpace]
Where: Death By Audio
For no reason beyond the band's name, I've wanted to check out the Fucking Ocean for some time now. Of course, the night they share the stage with Pterodactyl at Death By Audio, only the city's best DIY venue, was a pretty good time to do that.
In truth, the Fucking Ocean didn't literally share the stage with Pterdactyl, setting up instead on the floor of the show. I don't know if that was to speed up the transition or if it's just how they roll, but unfortunatley, it caused pretty serious visibility issues that did detract from the show.
The Fucking Ocean consists of three multi-instrumentalists, namely Matt Swagler, John Nguyen, and Marcella Gries. In the course of their set, they went through most (but not all) of the permutations possible with three people and three instruments. I appreciated the fact that the band ordered their songs so that they would not have to change instruments between every song, reducing downtime and keeping the noise buidling.
At their best, Gries was on bass, playing massive, metalloid riffs at light speed, while Swagler's frantic drumming pushed the music to its limits. The guitar covered everything from punk to metal to noise-rock to post-rock, sometimes within a single phrase, and whole combination was puncuated by sharp, yelling vocals. Though both weighty and frenzied, the band managed to keep a melodic appeal and at times, a sense of groove. It's still not easy music, but it's not inaccessibly harsh or avant-garde.
The band is great, and the show's biggest problems had nothing to do with the band's music. The worst problems with the set were with the band's presentation. First of all, Swagler was wearing a skirt, which is something a lot radical, left-wing boys think is cool - that's great, but most rightfully outgrow that phase after age 16. In this instance, it was distracting and detracted from the excellent music.
Worse than that, the band - and especially Swagler - found it appropriate to tell us what their songs were "about" between numbers. Their songs are aparently about political issues. I detest like political music - that is, music that addresses politics in the abstract. All music is political, and should be, but when it comes in the form of rhetoric, and songs are "about" something that can be summarized in a short sentence, it feels preachy and even cowardly. As an art form, music should transcend simplistic axioms. And the sad thing is, if the band had just refrained from translating their songs for us ("this one is about..."), I would never have known and would have enjoyed the set much more.
Musically, the band is still amazing and I highly recommend you see them. I just also recommend trying to ignore anything they might say between songs. [MySpace]
When Pterodactyl took the stage, I had a pretty clear idea of what to expect, having heard the band several times in the last few months. Or so I thought.
But I should have known a band as good as Pterodactyl wouldn't let themselves get too comfortable. Now a trio (permanently?), the band has transformed their songs on every level. The band's punky, rhythmically complex, high-speed, intense, repetitive, manic sound endures, but this performance was by far the most aggressive and noisiest I've seen to date. They have begun abusing their guitars and amps (in a good way) to achieve a highly experimental, improvisational sound.
It's rare and ballsy to hear a band push themselves forward as artists when they could instead coast praise and hype. The set at DBA was nothing short of mindblowing for fans like me, who heard music we already loved set on fire with new intensity.
So far, the band has done well, though I hope they also know the limits of the direction they are moving in. Already, they are hovering near that edge of reinvention where those not familiar with the songs' original versions might end up lost, and where each track could lose its focus as noise obscures the hectic melodicism that makes Pterodactyl great. They aren't there yet - so far the changes have been positive. But they are at an edge that could be pivotal and I hope the band will not lose their focus. They have a number of shows coming up this fall, so I guess we'll find out then. [MySpace]
Friday, August 14, 2009
Live: So So Glos, Lovvers
When: 8/1
Where: Death By Audio
So I'm still way behind in my live reviews. This was already almost two weeks ago, sorry!!
Though I missed seeing the Sundelles yet again, I did get to Death By Audio in time for Lovvers, whom I recently saw at Cake Shop. In that review, I noted the British punks to sound more tame and 50's-esque than on recordings. Apparently, that's not always the case - the show at Death By Audio was much more aggressive, sonically.
In terms of the performance, the band was about the same - which is fine since they were pretty good before. Singer Shaun Hencher again inserted himself in the midst of the crowd and again planted a mid-song kiss on a girl in the crowd. (Either Hencher enjoys getting beat up by angry boyfriends or he actually knows these girls.) The band kept its smart melodicism while amping up their noise, which is the best thing they could have done. Thumbs up. [MySpace]
I haven't heard So So Glos before. Part of me thought, perhaps from their image, and from certain rumors, and from the look of the band's myspace, that they were likely douchebags. Wherever my prejudice came from, I apologize to the band. The four guys who took the stage at Death By Audio were friendly, polite and engaging.
The So So Glos (photo by Eddie Brannan, from myspace.com)
There's no question that the So So Glos are a real punk band. And a really good one at that. Their songs pack a punch, confronting the audience without losing accessibility or a certain pop appeal. That said, it's definitely not my favorite. I need to connect with music on a emotional level, and with this music, I just couldn't. I'm not sure whether that's because the band is more about having fun than making themselves vulnerable, or if it's because it just doesn't resonate with me personally. Either way, the band has certainly succeeded on their own terms - they're a good listen and put on a good show.
During the show, some more aggressive moshing types started to create a problem. The band stopped to address the problem and when it continued in the next song, guitarist Matt Elkin leapt off the stage and charged the offender. The band stopped mid-song. I'm not sure what happened so I'm not sure if it merited Elkin's aggression, but it was refreshing to see a band take some responsibility for the behavior of their audience and try to make sure that a few people don't ruin it for the whole. Thanks, guys! [MySpace]
Where: Death By Audio
So I'm still way behind in my live reviews. This was already almost two weeks ago, sorry!!
Though I missed seeing the Sundelles yet again, I did get to Death By Audio in time for Lovvers, whom I recently saw at Cake Shop. In that review, I noted the British punks to sound more tame and 50's-esque than on recordings. Apparently, that's not always the case - the show at Death By Audio was much more aggressive, sonically.
In terms of the performance, the band was about the same - which is fine since they were pretty good before. Singer Shaun Hencher again inserted himself in the midst of the crowd and again planted a mid-song kiss on a girl in the crowd. (Either Hencher enjoys getting beat up by angry boyfriends or he actually knows these girls.) The band kept its smart melodicism while amping up their noise, which is the best thing they could have done. Thumbs up. [MySpace]
I haven't heard So So Glos before. Part of me thought, perhaps from their image, and from certain rumors, and from the look of the band's myspace, that they were likely douchebags. Wherever my prejudice came from, I apologize to the band. The four guys who took the stage at Death By Audio were friendly, polite and engaging.
The So So Glos (photo by Eddie Brannan, from myspace.com)
There's no question that the So So Glos are a real punk band. And a really good one at that. Their songs pack a punch, confronting the audience without losing accessibility or a certain pop appeal. That said, it's definitely not my favorite. I need to connect with music on a emotional level, and with this music, I just couldn't. I'm not sure whether that's because the band is more about having fun than making themselves vulnerable, or if it's because it just doesn't resonate with me personally. Either way, the band has certainly succeeded on their own terms - they're a good listen and put on a good show.
During the show, some more aggressive moshing types started to create a problem. The band stopped to address the problem and when it continued in the next song, guitarist Matt Elkin leapt off the stage and charged the offender. The band stopped mid-song. I'm not sure what happened so I'm not sure if it merited Elkin's aggression, but it was refreshing to see a band take some responsibility for the behavior of their audience and try to make sure that a few people don't ruin it for the whole. Thanks, guys! [MySpace]
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Album + Live: Blacklist
Album: Midnight of the Century
Weird Records, 2009
Rating: ******* (7/10)
The long-awaited debut LP of gothy post punks Blacklist, dubbed Midnight of the Century, is a relief after two EPs that failed to do the band justice. Though I've never failed to be compelled by the band's live show, their existing releases seemed unfocused and unmemorable. I could never even pin down exactly what was wrong with the EPs, but for whatever reason, the music didn't translate.
On Midnight, however, fans will finally recognize the band they love. However, even this album has its problems, particularly in the production. From a band influenced largely by the dense, layered music of post punks like the Cure, the record is frustratingly wanting for depth and richness. The sonic weaknesses might have been overcome with better recording and production techniques, which these days can be achieved even on a low budget - overdubbing duplicate parts, intensifying reverb, and so forth. Given the credentials of the engineers behind the sound (most notably, Ed Buller, who's resume includes work by Slowdive and Suede), the shallowness is really inexplicable.
With even the sound falling short, the record must stand on songwriting alone. And in this, Blacklist have proven themselves exceptional. There's not a single bad track. "Fight of the Demoiselles" could be an alternative radio hit, with many songs not falling far behind. There's a decent amount of variety, with the subtle trance of "The Cunning of History" and the airy "Odessa" breaking up the rest of the dark 80's sheen.
Unlike many of the darker bands of the 80's, Blacklist only flirts briefly with synthesizers, sticking by and large with the traditional guitar-bass-drum arrangements familiar in the rest of rock. Lyrically, like many goth-inspired groups, they draw upon dramatic images that speak more of modern society than personal moodiness. It's a work with vision, edge and above all, well penned songs.
Live...
When: 7/31
Where: Cameo Gallery
The Cameo show, following very closely on the heels of the album release, was not your typical Blacklist affair. For one thing, Cameo is more well-lit than many spaces, and Blacklist, unsurprisingly, thrives in the dark. Also, with a mostly shoegazing bill, the regular goth crowd didn't turn up.
Still, as always, the band was a powerful presence on stage. Dressed in black, with expressions to match, the band fanned out powerfully and delivered their songs with intense conviction and technical talent. Live shows also give the band, particularly guitarist James Minor, a chance to delve into more experimental sonic territory. Fleshing out their gothic soundscapes with new textures and improvisation, Blacklist expanded on their new material without losing track of the underlying songs.
Much like Ringo Deathstarr, with whom they shared the Cameo stage, Blacklist is not an original band. Both groups cover familiar territory, but each executes its chosen style with such near perfection that they become memorable and significant in their own right.
[Blacklist on MySpace]
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