Month: April 2013

Gone, But Not Forever: A Jason Molina Tribute

If a voice could be like a landscape, Jason Molina’s mirrored perfectly the Ohio in which I’d grown up – fertile though a bit bleak; not so dramatic but constant and comforting, even if somewhat mournful; tired cornstalks waving beneath gentle Appalachian foothills, meeting gritty, unglamorous industry; a landscape that presents itself casually as if to say here this is, it’s pretty much nothing but you can have it.

The fact that Molina, like myself, was from Ohio made me feel an instant kinship to the music he made, whether it had the folksy qualities of his earliest releases, the gospel overtones of Didn’t It Rain or the blues-infused urgency of Magnolia Electric Co. recordings – it all felt like sides of the same coin and it gave everything a sad, romantic twinge.  I loved that he referenced things and places I knew, that we even had friends in common (though we never met).  I can’t tell you how many hours I spent alone in a car with that voice and that same landscape spooling outside my window during trips across state to visit my parents in Cleveland while I was going to school in Columbus, or how I’d mouth the words “you can’t get here fast enough” in the throes of a long-distance Kent-Columbus relationship, with “The Lioness” on repeat.

The day I found out that Jason Molina died would have been my friend Robert’s 33rd birthday.  Robert, like Molina, had succumbed to drug addiction, alone, suddenly, and far too young.  When Robert died, I turned to Molina for comfort because we had both loved those songs.  I even posted lyrics from lyrics from “Goodnight Lover” on his facebook wall after his passing: “How will I live without you / Without your customs… How selfish for time to conclude / what would be the day / for leaving to work its charm on you”.  And when I thought of Molina dying alone in a hotel room with a single number in his phone (as reported by his friend Henry Owings on Chunklet) I again combed lyrics for comfort, and finding relevant verses was pretty much the only easy thing about the whole situation.  Every other song concerns itself with death and ghosts and depression and passage from one part of life into the next.

Later that day I was discussing Molina’s death with another friend of mine who has also struggled with depression and had found particular resonance in that aspect of the music.  He had this hypothesis that Molina’s biggest fans were all depressed to some degree, and that was why we gravitated toward it so.  It feels like a thing that could be absolutely true, but it’s also a truth I didn’t want to subscribe to wholly; I’d have to lump myself into that category.  To say Molina’s work meant a lot to me is an understatement – it feels more like the fiber of my being: roots of a family tree, blood running through my veins, equal parts biography and biology.  And yes, it has supported me through some difficult times.  But in the end I always looked to his lyrics for bits of beauty and promise.  The darkness was there but there were glimmers of light – the moon, the stars, headlights on an otherwise lonesome highway.  As often as Molina sang about endings, he sang about being thrashed by hope.  It never came off as hokey because it was bathed in this harsh brand of realism, a harshness that gave every note poignancy.  It wasn’t just in the words themselves but how he sang them.  It reverberated in every strum of his guitar.

And he wasn’t as morose as all of this makes him out to be.  He was warm and funny and extremely hardworking.  Below is a recording my roommate made at a Columbus show in 2004.  He had this to say about the performance:

The set is fun, varied, relaxed, and seems to be a transitional time for Molina as he had just switched monikers from Songs: Ohia to Magnolia Electric Company. He cracks jokes, plays Ozzy riffs between songs, apologizes to Scout Niblett for forgetting to ask her on stage during “Riding with a Ghost”, and ends the set with two covers eventually flooding the stage with people for a rendition of “You Ain’t Going Nowhere.”

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By all accounts, the last few years of Molina’s life were a struggle.  He didn’t stop making music as he was shuttled around from rehab to hospital and back again, but lack of insurance and the tolls of addiction finally brought that struggle to an end.  Molina was relentlessly creative and contributed more in his short life than most ever will, and we’re lucky to have the stunning body of work he left us.  I was going to end this piece with some of Molina’s own words as they really do make the most fitting epitaph, but there was really too much to choose from.  Instead, I urge those unfamiliar with his work to explore the catalogue and find meaning within the work as it applies to living the fullest life possible, whatever beauty and pain that entails.

To make a contribution in memoriam, please donate here.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

LIVE REVIEW: Goat at Music Hall of Williamsburg, 4/23/13

 

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If Scratch 'N' Sniff internet had already been invented, this would smell like weed.
If Scratch ‘N’ Sniff internet had already been invented, this would smell like weed.

Post college, I lived in a house with a couple of record nerds.  You know the type – usually dudes who have more vinyl than a human being could possibly listen to and just leave everything sealed so it will be worth more money when they die alone in their basement apartments.  I don’t really mean that to sound so scathing; I had (and still have) a great affection for folks whose obsessive collecting is based in music adoration and not just hoarding rare albums.  Without “my” record geeks, I might never have discovered Comus, an anonymous 1970’s Satan-worshipping psych collective.  The music was complex and arboreal but also sort of frightening.  Mostly, I was enchanted by the idea of some cult running around in the forests of Great Britain (or haunting the moors or whatever they have there), jamming to their trippy tunes by day and sacrificing virgins by night.

I felt twinges of that same awe when I listened to World Music by Sweden’s Goat.  Their multi-layerd fusion of psych, funk, and disco is energetic enough to pull anyone in, but the mythology surrounding the band is equally fascinating.  They supposedly hail from Korpilombolo, a tiny village founded by a voodoo priest, where the residents have collectively composed songs and played music as Goat for generations.   World Music is the first release by the current incarnation of this project, an appropriate title given its timeless and eclectic feel, where the only rule for embracing a particular style of playing is that it be ecstatic.

Videos of the band’s live performances do little to reveal their identity; the performers wear mardi-gras style masks and dashikis.  Members of the band have suggested in interviews that all of this obfuscation is a way to help center focus on the music itself rather than the personalities behind it, though the irony here is that these antics tread on gimmicky territory.  In the end, though, it doesn’t matter if the folklore is truth or make-believe or a little of both, because the songs stand up on their own just fine.

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All hail the Goatlord.
All hail the Goatlord.

I was pretty excited to catch the act at Music Hall of Williamsburg; originally scheduled for Glasslands but moved to accommodate a larger crowd, the event promised to be at least mildly spectacular – it was the band’s North American debut, after all.  Two guitar players, a bass player, and two percussionists took the stage in outfits ranging from “creepy vintage  clown marionette” to “gold-lamé clad fencing champion”.  At first, the vibe was actually pretty stoic, leaving me to wonder if the performance was going to amount to that of the animatronic characters at Chuck E. Cheese.  But that vibe went from zero to sixty the second Goat’s two female vocalists came on stage, gyrating, hopping, twirling, shaking tambourines and bells, chanting, and otherwise becoming the life of the bizarre psych Cirque du Soliel I was now witness to.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of going to psych and noise shows, it’s that no matter how long the recorded version of a song is already, it can always be longer, and Goat took the opportunity to extend the relatively succinct tracks on World Music into longform improvisations without alienating even one member of the audience or allowing for any stale moments.

The thing is, the band kept it fun.  What could have been somewhat spooky or pretentious basically felt like a happy-go-lucky hallucinogen tasting.  It’s true that Goat sings about worshipping a “Goatlord” but it’s also true that Goat sings about worshipping disco, and everything else is a permutation of one or both of those concepts.  In the end, the show was a party, not a seance, and those watching were primed to celebrate.  During “Let It Bleed” the band was joined by a sax-playing guest in a white robe and from the level of cheers it elicited you’d think Jon Hamm was under the mask or something (maybe he was, there was really no way to know).

It’s also hard to know if Goat will have the same cult following that bands like Comus inspired; because of the internet everything these days is a little too accessible, but then again it’s way easier to disseminate legend if that’s your marketing plan.  Would revealing the identity of the musicians in Goat ruin the novelty inherent in their current buzz?  Probably.  But even if it put a dent in the build-up, there’d be plenty left over for fans of psych to enjoy.  The kitsch factor barely factors in when you consider the talent and enthusiasm that truly makes Goat an interesting act to follow.  I bought my copy of the LP like any good record nerd would.

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LIVE REVIEW: Sean Kennedy and Bill Bartholomew @ Rock Shop

406256_10152017955950384_1693866279_nThe Rock Shop is a seductive, darkly lit bar with a rock n’ roll vibe, which unfolds into a cozy performance space in the back.  As a Park Slope local, I’m keenly aware it’s one of the few solid venues in the neighborhood to catch independent musicians. I still mourn that South Paw is being turned into a rock wall gym for children. The Park Slope moms won that round.  But still, Rock Shop leaves hope for local indie rock lovers.  This night celebrated folk/Americana artists with dynamic lead singers.  Listening to solo artistSean Kennedy and self-titled band Bill Bartholomew back to back, I was struck not only by the contrasting vocal styles, but also by their divergent approaches to songwriting and performance.

Folk music has seen a revival and reinterpretation as of late, but is still rooted in its oral tradition.  Stories pass down from generation to generation in the form of lyrics, and focus on themes centered around class.  The Americana genre encompasses music that is patriotic, nostalgic, and rooted in early American music forms such as bluegrass, folk and country.  Bill Bartholomew captures the essence of both genres, and melds these characteristics with his own rock and roll vision.

Bartholomew’s lyrics take precedence in his songs, and his vocals give a crystal clear, clean-cut delivery.  His music tends to carry listeners along with his upbeat, energetic demeanor.  A few poignant folk style ballads are in his repertoire as well.  “Morgantown” looks into social responsibility of small town lower class struggles.  These ballads capture Bartholomew’s vocal expressiveness best.

Vocalist Gabriella Rassi is truly what makes this group unique.  She added beautiful harmonies to Bartholomew’s singing, and also plays the harmonium, which for those not familiar, is a portable pump organ made popular in the late 19th century.  This piece adds a fantastic vintage sound to the music, and without her, the band risks sliding into too commonplace a sound.  Already Bartholomew’s vocals and songwriting style are reminiscent of folk rock band Wilco, which in many ways is a compliment, but without a compelling difference in sound, Bartholomew’s music has already been done.

Bartholomew has put in the work with songwriting and fronting the group, and he often does perform his sets solo.  But as an audience member, I found it frustrating that some potential stand out moments from the other artists were overshadowed and struggled to cut through the mix.  Rassi’s voice and harmonium playing were often buried in the songs (although this is partly a sound engineer issue).  Overall, the set was energetic, honest and well honed.  Bill Bartholomew and the Governours’ song “World on a Wire” is a notable song to check out.

Another performance of the night was Sean Kennedy, who is not to be confused with the Scottish Michael Bublé doppelganger of the same namesake (yes, this is a real person). Kennedy performed a solo act with guitar and exposed, emotive vocals.  His stripped down performance and sorrowful, sensitive mystique garnered the rapt attention of a few young, single ladies in the crowd.  A ways into his set, he divulged some lyric meaning to reference a time he recently spent living with his grandmother to save money.  His grandma’s neighbor was a woman who apparently had the hots for him.  His storytelling is unusual at times, but also strikes a chord with the dreamer and the struggling artist.

Kennedy’s singing voice is striking.  He has a wispy tenor timbre, which is exposed and sorrowful.  This distinctive vocal choice can be a dangerous one if not kept in check, as these higher, mood driven tones can border on a whiney quality if not backed with strong conviction and depth.  Kennedy crossed this line a few times.

As I listened, I imagined his music fitting best on an indie compilation, where artist variation is sought after.  His sound is well packaged and immediately accessible.  Yet by the end of the 45-minute run, my ears began to fatigue of such similar emotional content.  Kennedy could do well to add another musician to the mix for longer sets.  The power in his emotive, sorrowful sound could be explosive if balanced with more instrumentation and fully exposed only on rare occasion.

The evening’s folk/Americana vibe was refreshing to hear, as each artist added his or her own signature twist to the genre.  Folk and Americana styles are relevant today as the storytelling tradition continues to express the experiences of our time.  The singer/songwriter tradition is alive and well in Brooklyn, and elsewhere.

LIVE REVIEW: Chris Dave and the Drumhedz @ Highline Ballroom

Chris DaveChris Dave has recorded and performed with a slew of chart topping artists, from Beyonce and Adele to Wynton Marsalis and Dianne Reeves.  Far from a chameleon, he brings his own dangerously unique technique to each artist’s sound, and stamps his signature style on a handful of different genres.  He reinvents the musical tropes we’ve come to know with a groundbreaking approach to rhythm, and performs with a tricked out drum set most drummers only dream of.  The Drumhedz gives Dave a chance to show off his revolutionary style and indulge in technically staggering drum solos and experimental song structure.

Chris “Daddy” Dave took stage at Highline Ballroom this Sunday evening by setting down an open bottle of Patron in arm’s reach of his drum kit.  He then addressed the audience to “open your mind, close your eyes and join us on the journey.”  Dave, who stated his hatred for public speaking, only addressed the crowd at the opening and closing of the show, and careened through the set list without waiting for any applause.  In fact, the only true pause he took in the entirety of the show was to affix a Sabian Hoop Crasher on his snare during the middle of a song.  The whole band paused so he could add it, and fans had to smile that Dave’s extreme attention to detail could hold up the whole show.

Band members alternate from show to show, but musical expertise remains a constant.  An occasional surprise guest artist is known to show up as well.   Superstars Beyonce, Mos Def, and others have made unannounced cameos during Drumdhedz shows.  Tonight included the talents of Pino Palladino on bass, Isaiah Sharkey on guitar, and Kebbi Williams on sax and flute.  The members all have long track records with top recording artists and collectively have a few Grammy Awards under their belts.

The drum set Chris Dave plays on could be mistaken for a wizard’s laboratory.   Zildjian Spiral Trash cymbals hang down several feet on either side of him, and his clear Plexiglas suspended floor tom and kick drum give the illusion of a half invisible kit.  It was easy to spot the drummers in the crowd, as a number of them pushed up to stage right side to catch Dave’s every move.  The music of The Drumhedz centers on  Dave’s playing, and the performances showcase mostly original compositions.

When describing the sound of The Drumhedz, Chris Dave emphatically points out his music should not be pinned to one genre. Indeed, the band takes pride from drawing on many influences.  The show opened with a non-traditional cover of John Coltrane’s “Giant Steps” and rounded off with Jimi Hendrix’s “Hey Joe.”  The band also cites inspiration from artists D’Angelo, Fela Kuti, Radiohead, and J Dilla.  The sound is an amalgamation of R&B, funk, rock, jazz, hip-hop and electronica, and the band switches genres at the drop of a hat.  Besides mixing genres, the musicians play with the audience’s perception by overlapping different rhythms on top of one another.  The result is heady, intelligent layering that requires its audience to pay close attention.

Technical flair does overshadow emotional intent, and this imbalance can dampen the mood.  By the encore, my ears were fatigued of hearing such densely packed rhythms and intricate, lengthy solos.  Chris Dave is undoubtedly an impressive, well studied artist, and he specializes in impossible, obtuse rhythms that somehow fit in with the overall picture.  But he over stimulates his audience, and could effectively hold back a few times to pack a punch, rather than playing full out the whole set.  I craved a song that could let us see Chris Dave exercise an ability to withhold for dramatic or emotional effect.

Kebbi Williams played an electronically enhanced saxophone and flute, which allowed him the ability to morph into a gritty, gravely wail, a reverb drenched echo, or into other instruments entirely.  Williams brought soul to the performance, and carried the melody line for much of the show.  As a strikingly tall man rarely to be seen onstage without his signature top hat, Williams was an unforgettable, indispensable part of the band.

Since the 90’s, Chris Dave has been attributed with redefining the role of the drummer.  His highly stylized, well-honed approach has earned him accolades, and scores of drummers cite him as a major influence.  The Drumhedz gives Dave a chance to forge original music that breaks away from the pop mainstream and gives listeners insight into his un-categorizable technique.  This turn away from the mainstream is particularly exciting to hear from an artist so well versed in established music styles.  Chris Dave breaks every mold he’s ever been placed in.

Chris Dave’s Drumhedz Mixtape is now available for free download at http://chris-dave.com/

EXPERIMENTAL REMIX COMPETITION WITH HARVESTWORKS

KatOriginally released as a Limited Edition Double Vinyl Set, TELLUS TOOLS, curated by Taketo Shimada, was intended to be used as a tool for DJ’s to create original mixes of a compilation of works by artists including Nicolas Collins, Kiki Smith, Catherine Jauniaux & Iuke Mori, Joe Jones, Alison Knowles, Louise Lawler, Kohondo Style, Ken Montgomery, Christian Marclay, Isaac Jackson and the Bonus Break Artists.  Since the release of this compilation in 2001, the idea of the mix and the methods in which one creates a remix has drastically evolved.  Harvetsworks, a digital media arts center based in New York, is hosting this competition, and seeks to create a dialogue between DJ’s, electronic producers, and experimental artists.

For this exhibition, artists are asked to create an original remix of the tracks provided that utilizes an innovative mixing method. The creations will be submitted to soundcloud.com/groups/harvestworks-tellus-tools-remix-competition/dropbox by April 3rd 2013. Each creation will be posted publicly and reviewed by the Harvestworks Curatorial Panel. The selected creations will be exhibited in Harvestworksʻ Studio C.

SLEEP ∞ OVER x Spectacle Theater

sleepoverOur friends over at Spectacle Theater sure do know how to party.  On April 15th, 2013 they’ll be screening a re-cut 3D version of Robert Weine’s 1924 silent horror classic The Hands of Orlac.  As of that weren’t exciting enough, Austin-based psychedelic electropop producer Stefanie Franciotti, a.k.a. SLEEP ∞ OVER, will perform a live re-score during the screenings.

We love SLEEP ∞ OVER’s ethereal debut LP Forever, released in 2011 by Hippos In Tanks.  She’ll play two sets at Spectacle (one at 8pm and again at 10pm), likely veering into the dreamy ambient territory she’s best known to inhabit.  It’s a unique opportunity to see the artist play a show like no other, so if you’re in Brooklyn we highly recommend it.  View a trailer below.

Spectacle Theater is located at 124 S. 3rd St. (at Bedford Ave.) in Williamsburg.  All shows are $5.  SLEEP ∞ OVER will also open for Memory Tapes at Mercury Lounge on Sunday, April 14th.