AF 2017 IN REVIEW: The Best Live Shows of 2017

Austra @Warsaw

This was my first show of 2017, unless you count sets by Janelle Monae, Alicia Keys, and Indigo Girls that dotted the Women’s March on Washington days prior. I may have been late to the game regarding Austra, a beloved Toronto band already two albums into their career, and it wasn’t even their music that first grabbed my attention. It was the striking artwork for their third record, Future Politics. On its cover, a woman leads a handsome mare, cloaked in Austra’s signature shade of red. As it turned out, the album was as slick and strong as its imagery.

I sought out this strength one night at Greenpoint’s Warsaw, where Austra moved the whole room to dance with abandon. Lead singer Katie Stelmanis was captivating, her soaring voice sounding miraculously better than on the record. If it weren’t for her obvious talents as a pop star, Stelmanis would have an easy time making it as a stage actor or Broadway diva. The band plowed through the new album’s heavy hitters like “We Were Alive,” “Future Politics” and “Utopia,” sprinkling older favorites throughout the set.

Just days after Donald Trump had been sworn in as the 45th President of the United States, Austra made the Warsaw crowd believe that if we sweat hard enough, we could construct our own utopia right there on the dance floor.

Girl Band @Saint Vitus

Girl Band, Dublin’s all-boy noise foursome, rarely leave the stage without first inciting a small riot. They’re one of the few bands I’ve seen that can touch something primal in audiences, waking them from their New York, no-dance comas. This spring show at Saint Vitus was no different. The crowd was a little rigid initially, but once Girl Band slammed into “Paul” off of 2015’s Holding Hands With Jamie we all went wild. Daniel Fox’s warbled bass line whipped us into a swirling frenzy. We attempted to scream along with lead singer Dara Kiley, but our sweat and thrashing limbs did most of the talking.

Perfume Genius @Brooklyn Steel

This gig was without a doubt my favorite live performance of the year – and I almost didn’t go. Audiofemme’s own Lindsey Rhoades, who could not make it that evening, asked if I would go in her absence. “Sure,” I said, having no clue of the treat in store. I’d listened to the record, and was of course proud of the Seattle band’s success being from Washington myself, but the sheer magnetism of PG mastermind Mike Hadreas blew me away. He slinked and slithered through each song, howling like a hellhound one minute and whispering like seraph the next. In those moments onstage, Hadreas seemed to be Bowie’s heir apparent. He certainly had a Ziggy Stardust-worthy outfit.

Blanck Mass @RBMA/Sacred Bones

It didn’t hurt that as Blanck Mass’ Benjamin John Power was whipping up beats, Björk was head banging by the PA system… in a hot pink clown suit. But even without Our Lady of Iceland publicly endorsing the set, Power’s gut rattling music had me enraptured. Power always performs in total darkness, giving shape and weight to his intense soundscapes. You can almost feel his songs wrap around you like a python beginning to squeeze. When he cued up “Please” – my #2 favorite song of 2017 – I suddenly understood what it’s supposed to feel like when you get the good MDMA. I’d only ever had the bad shit.

Aldous Harding @Park Church Co-op/Baby’s All Right

I saw Aldous Harding twice within a week at 2017’s Northside Festival. The first time was at Park Church Co-op in Greenpoint. Harding wore an all-white suit, conjuring the combined spirits of Tom Wolfe, David Byrne, and Jerry Hall. She was otherworldly, contorting her voice to reach the vaulted ceiling, then summoning it down low, to rattle the wooden pews we sat on.

The second time was at Baby’s All Right, a far less romantic locale. Still, Harding bewitched me with her strange posturing and mythological voice. As she sunk into the lovelorn depths of “Horizon,” I was near tears. I closed my eyes. I mouthed the words, “Here is your princess/And here is the horizon.” And then a sharp splat cut through the room. The crowd parted like the red sea, and there at the center was not Moses, but a 60-year-old, portly man, barfing all down his t-shirt. After a period of bug-eyed shock, Harding laughed and returned to her set. I went outside to breathe better air.

Bing & Ruth @Basilica Soundscape

There was so much to see at Basilica Soundscape this summer, and yet the first band that played on the festival’s opening night is what stuck with me the most. Bing & Ruth’s David Moore seemed to be painting with his piano keys, while the accompanying cellist and clarinet player extracted color from their own instruments. They invoked a staggering beauty that went unmatched for the remainder of the weekend, in my opinion. Bing & Ruth make music that’s incredibly difficult to describe, but I feel lucky I was able to hear and feel it in person.

Sean Nicholas Savage and Dinner @Baby’s All Right

This was not my first Sean Nicholas Savage rodeo, but it was by far the finest, largely due to opening act Dinner’s inspiring performance. Danish singer/songwriter Anders Rhedin knows how to work a crowd, and does so with a divine combination of goofball and deadpan tactics. He had us sitting on the ground like school children, clapping like a gospel choir, and dancing like disco wildcats. It was a nice round of cardio before Sean Nicholas Savage began his vocal calisthenics. We swayed for Dinner, but we swooned for Savage.

Diamanda Galás @Murmrr Theater

I couldn’t have imagined a better Halloween. After walking a mile through Fort Greene, squeezing past trails of children in Halloween costumes, candy spilling from their cloth sacks, I approached Prospect Heights’ Murmrr Theatre. The stage and pews were cloaked in red light, and the baby grand piano was the requisite black. It was a fitting atmosphere for Diamanda Galás, the singer, composer, and pianist I recently crowned as the Queen of Halloween.

Galás was bewitching. Her piano seemed to awaken the ghost of Thelonious Monk and Satan himself, while her voice was alight with several spirits; some crooning, some growling, some downright shrieking. Galás is a medium above all else, and this last Halloween, she seemed to communicate with other worlds.

Swans @Warsaw

This was another show I almost didn’t attend. I’d already seen these noise dinosaurs two summers ago, and didn’t plan on showing up for their goodbye gig at Warsaw last month. But when a good friend got the flu and offered up his ticket gratis, how could I pass? I got to the venue in time for a plate of pierogis and kielbasa, and through some fortunate twist of fate, had a pair of earplugs in my purse. This was a very good thing considering Swans were playing at decibel levels strong enough for sonic warfare. As Thor smashed his gong, I felt like I was inside of a tank as it unloaded ammunition. Even my feet were vibrating.

Animal Collective @Knockdown Center

Nothing could’ve prepared me for how mesmerizing Animal Collective’s set at Knockdown Center was a couple of weeks ago. The evening’s objective was for Avey Tare and Panda Bear to perform 2004’s Sung Tongs in full. I entered Queens’ Knockdown Center full of skepticism; how exactly, were they going to summon that wall of sound with just two dudes?

I still don’t know the exact answer to that question, but the task was accomplished. After ample fiddling by roadies (one of whom sported a biker jacket and looked like he was named Butch) the stage was set, and the travel-sized version of Animal Collective settled into their chairs. What transpired over the next hour plus was a village of sound supplied by two men, four microphones, and some expert pedal work. Whatever their process was, it blew me away. I was wrapped in surround sound, every blip, crack, and whir massaging my body with the tiniest pulses.

LIVE REVIEW: Sean Nicholas Savage & Dinner @ Baby’s All Right

The disco balls were in full force at Baby’s All Right last Saturday, where the night’s festivities could have easily marched under one banner: Night of the Weirdos. That is of course, the highest order of compliments coming from my fingers, and while I knew from firsthand experience what a bizarro Canadian crooner Sean Nicholas Savage is, I was delighted to find a kindred kook in Dinner.

Comprised of Danish singer/songwriter Anders Rhedin, with the assistance of a live guitarist affectionately referred to only as “Fielder,” Dinner was intent on making their set as fun as humanly possible. Rhedin succeeded. An angular New Romantic in a split-open, black blouse, the artist expertly intertwined goofs into his deadpan delivery. “This is a song about going out,” Rhedin droned before announcing, “This song is called ‘Going Out.’”

Prior to a banging rendition of “Girl” from 2015’s Three EPs, Rhedin instructed the entire room to “sit down,” before treating us to a sulky serenade from the center of our crouching bodies. Rhedin stood over us, a sparkling shroud of cloth dripping from his head, and then joined us on the ground for a good wriggle-around. As he rejoined Fielder onstage, Rhedin announced that “the genius Sean Nicholas Savage” was to join him onstage… only Sean was nowhere to be found. “Sean! SEAN!” he shouted, and the crowd followed suit, eventually succeeding in our beckoning.

The resulting duet was exceptional – contrasting Rhedin’s somber baritone with Savage’s gutsy falsetto. Savage swayed dreamily as Rhedin danced in typical Dinner fashion – which reads like someone getting ready in front of the mirror on prom night in an ‘80s film. On Saturday night, I can safely say that Dinner was served hot.

Sean Nicholas Savage is a much less kinetic performer than Dinner, for certain, but his command of a crowd is not reliant on bouncing around. In fact, he stays remarkably still while performing, his pipes doing most of the movement for him. In his early moments onstage he stood in blue-striped track pants and a dingy tank top. His closely cropped blue hair was the exact hue of his pant stripes by no accident. A saxophonist stood to his left, injecting even more sex appeal into Savage’s already sultry material.

Unfortunately, the saxophonist retreated offstage before long, leaving Savage with his only accompaniment: the backing tracks he plays from his phone. It may be a modern technique, but I’m certain that only a performer with the talent and charisma quotient of Savage could effectively pull it off. I still long for the day I can see him with a full band. Then again, if that day never comes, I’ll still gladly attend his gigs.

Ostensibly there to present new material from latest LP Yummycoma (released one day prior) Savage also swept through crowd favorites like “Chin Chin,” and “Everything Baby Blue” with his snarling and sweet voice, occasionally taking requests and reading the odd poem, (or “rant” as he labeled “Tarot Boys”). A pared down version of Alphaville’s “Forever Young” truly brought the house down, as did Savage’s encore: the strange and self-aware “Music” from 2016’s Magnificent Fist.

“I knew he was going to end with that!” a man in the audience joyfully shouted. And I knew that Sean Nicholas Savage would keep on keeping it weird.

ONLY NOISE: The Weird World Of Jerry Paper

Jerry Paper

You always notice growth in a plant or pet when you haven’t seen it for a while. The little evolutions we undergo are lost to the everyday eye, but reveal themselves as blazing metamorphoses to the intermittent onlooker. The latter is also true in the case of Jerry Paper, at least according to my eyes and ears. Jerry Paper is a music-making entity, who’s earthly birth name is Lucas Nathan.  Like most of life’s best offerings, JP drifted into my frame of awareness with bizarre ease, at first entirely by accident.

Two summers ago I was just dipping my toes into the loungey sound-pool of Sean Nicholas Savage, who was headlining a gig at the late and great Death By Audio. Manning the slot just before Savage was an unlikely looking fellow with big, wire frame glasses and a purple lei ’round his neck, a storage unit’s worth of effects pedals and cables tangled at his feet. It’s hard to say if he looked at the crowd once, but I do remember his fanatical immersion in each song.

After a fair share of “live” gigs whereupon the stage is taken over by a man on a date with his laptop, you can become a bit underwhelmed by this sight. And yet Nathan’s music negates the stereotype married to such a setup. I didn’t realize at that point in time that Jerry Paper was more than a stage name reminiscent of 80s power pop. I wasn’t privy to the mythology of Jerry Paper-that Lucas Nathan was merely a host-body which Jerry possesses in order to generate tunes.  Nor did I know that Nathan was originally a student of philosophy; though a brief leafing through his lyrics could have informed me so, as he discusses the likes of simulacra, fuzzy logic, and “the settings of the synthesized mind.”

That first set knocked me out completely. Despite the sterile stage layout Nathan was writhing with groove, seemingly possessed whenever a song commenced, and back to normal upon its completion. I remember thinking at the time that he reminded me of Elvis Costello, but it wasn’t just his glasses; something in the depth of his voice and the quiet arrogance of his stage presence. It was perhaps the impression that his performance was a 40-minute revenge act from a man who’s much smarter than everyone in the room. I rushed to the merch table immediately after and bought a copy of his 2014 LP Big Pop For Chameleon World, which I’ve been listening to ever since.

One of the things that make Jerry Paper so special is his potential capacity for cynicism and his subsequent denial of it. Though wearing the guise of empathetic AI and employing tools of the Muzak genre such as keyboard saxophone and elevator synths, he manages to make sincere, and more importantly good music that is relatable to humans and algorithms alike. Nathan is the first to admit in interviews that yes, he does find synth sax hilarious, but he also truly enjoys the sound of it, or else it wouldn’t get anywhere near the record to begin with.

Seeing Jerry Paper perform at Secret Project Robot this last weekend, it was evident that a lot of things have turned in his favor in only a couple of years. No longer an obscure opening act with only his machines for sonic scaffolding, he was playing a headlining gig backed by a full band. The lineup touted local “non-country” outsider Dougie Poole and the aforementioned bizarro crooner Sean Nicholas Savage, the latter of whom predominantly sang cover songs with a backing track (unfortunately). Dougie Poole was also accompanied by a backing track, but interspersed the noise with guitar phrases and pedal manipulation. Poole’s dopey pigtails only made the melancholy of his ass-dragging cowboy act all the more blue. He is seemingly in character, but it’s a heart-rending effect nonetheless. It was an evening of undeniably odd birds, but what a wonderful thing to see when so many modern bands  are required to be ultra slick and fronted by supermodels. Poole resurfaced as a funkified bassist in Jerry Paper’s backing band, which indulged in great versatility via keyboards, guitar, pedal effects, and flute. But it was Nathan who truly rose to his headlining post for the evening. Sporting a fine and shiny spandex body suit he looked like a deep-sea diver-or a black seal maybe, as he was bobbing around the stage with similar grace and silliness.

It seems as though Nathan has undergone a fair amount of change since I first saw him at Death By Audio in 2014. Two full length albums (2014’s Big Pop For Chameleon World and 2015’s Carousel) and 3,000 miles (he recently relocated to his home state of California), the evening was a celebration of his latest record Toon Time Raw!. And it was the first celebration: the record release party, the first gig of the tour, and I believe the first time Nathan has ever been backed by a full band; this last little fact seeming odd as Jerry Paper was evidently born to front a band.

JP is a wildly charismatic entertainer, his interpretive dance gestures conveying equal sincerity and hilarity. His on-stage banter is wonderfully deadpan, an air that is contradicted by his nervous and polite off-stage presence. “It’s great to be alive,” he droned into his headset microphone. “But having a body is sooo annoying.” Jerry’s jab at his own host body earned a hearty laugh from the room. “But you are a body, so…fuck it,” he concluded.

Nathan’s lyrics and performances seem rife with these sorts of blasé aphorisms that wink at his education, but don’t force it down your throat. Conceptually the music of Jerry Paper could be coined as abstract or out-there, but the inherent groove is what makes it approachable. Much like Daft Punk are robots with beating, blood-pumping hearts, Jerry Paper is code with soul. This combination of the perceived coldness of technology with the foolproof warmth of human music is part of what makes Jerry Paper so compelling; he describes the phenomenon best in an interview with The Editorial Magazine:

“What the fuck is more human than a computer? That doesn’t happen outside of humans. Electronics are purely human tools. I think a lot about the separation of humans and nature and why we think like that instead of thinking of humans as part of nature. I hate to sound like a douchebag but it’s very Cartesian/mind-body dualism. We think of electronics as not natural, but if humans are natural then our tools are also natural.”

Agree or disagree, it is an irrefutably relevant perspective, especially considering that so much of our budding technology is used for social purposes, including the making and sharing of music.

Toon Time Raw!, as with last Saturday’s performance are markers in the upward motion that Jerry Paper is riding high. The LP, out on Bayonet Records, picks up where Carousel left off, but lets things get even warmer, even groovier, proving that Nathan is a legitimate pop songwriter with beauties such as “Ginger and Ruth,” “Zoom Out” and “Stargazers.”

It’s a rare thing to locate genre-less music. They majority of hype bands seem to fit into some sort of self-referential box labeled with a bygone genre.  Just check “dream pop” or “psych rock” or “surf-girl-group-garage” and you’ll get someone’s attention.  But Jerry Paper, be he your cup of tea or not, won’t be squeezing into a box any time soon.  And for that, I tip my hat to him.

 

 

 

CMJ 2015: Bands to Hear

CMJ Music Marathon 2015 is here. With an overwhelming abundance of artist to sort through, we made your life easier by providing you with a list of a few can’t-miss bands to hear. Read on.

Cosmo Sheldrake

Cosmo Sheldrake

Rare is the mere mortal who can play more instruments than years they’ve lived. Cosmo Sheldrake is such a human (though I’m convinced some dealings with the devil are at play here). At 25 Sheldrake has scored films, composed music for a series of Samuel Beckett plays, and given a performance at TEDxWhitechapel entitled “Interspecies Collaboration.” Oh, and, you know, he plays over 30 instruments. Piano? Check. Drums? Check? Didgeridoo? Mmhm. Sousaphone, penny whistle, Mongolian throat singing, Tibetan chanting, computer? Yup.

I’m not sure how Sheldrake will get all this gear from London to Piano’s this Tuesday, but I am certain there will be an intriguing performance in store. While Sheldrake’s resume can leave us fearing overwrought and un-listenable prog rock, I can assure you that his sound is nothing short of delightful. His technical ability is matched by a penchant for catchy, beautifully textured songs that venture on the Baroque and folk corners of pop.

Cosmo Sheldrake:

Tuesday 10/13 @Piano’s 5:30pm

 

ezra

Ezra Furman

We’ve sung his praise before, and we’re not finished. The cross-dressing troubadour plays a vigorous set, spits a mean lyric, and looks a hell of a lot better in a frock than I do. Riding on the warm reception of his latest release Perpetual Motion People, Furman will be here by way of London, San Francisco, St. Paul, and lord knows where else. Expect manic folk, mangled vocals, doo-wop croons, punk rock, lipstick and plenty of saxophone. If you long to move this CMJ, but don’t have the taste for late night EDM, I assure you there will be sufficient dancing at the Ezra Furman gig.

If you’re schedule’s pretty full-up, worry not; Ezra is playing four dates next week. Though if I may recommend one above the rest it’s his headlining gig at Knitting Factory, where Juan Waters, Slim Twig and Drinks-among many others-will share the bill. Don’t miss it!

 

Ezra Furman:

Wednesday 10/14 @Knitting Factory 7pm (Juan Waters, Slim Twig, Drinks)

Thursday 10/15 @Rough Trade 4pm

Thursday 10/15 @le Poisson Rouge 10pm

Friday 10/16 @Baby’s All Right 2pm

 

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Sean Nicholas Savage

Where Cosmo Sheldrake can be measured in instruments, Montreal’s Sean Nicholas Savage can be measured in albums. At 29 he’s released 11 studio LPs in a span of eight years. His latest record Other Death surfaced just last month on his Alma Mater Arbutus Records, home to fellow Canadians TOPS, Grimes and Doldrums.

With the guise of a shadier Morrissey, Savage’s music is at peace with sorrow, his signature crooning falsetto wavers over hushed keys and papery drums. His vocal range reaches heights that one might find unlikely from a live performance, but trust me, I’ve seen him pull it off on the spot to an even greater effect than his recordings. He’s a humble, somewhat shy performer, but a captivating one nonetheless. And if it’s charisma you’re looking for, he’s got that in spades.

 

Sean Nicholas Savage:

Thursday 10/15 @Silent Barn 8pm

Friday 10/16 @Arlene’s Grocery 8p

 

miya

Miya Folick

Resting somewhere between balladeer folk and dream pop, Miya Folick‘s latest EP Strange Darling is nothing short of mesmerizing.  There is a sweet sadness at play here that stabs pretty deep.  It’s a far cry from other music coming out of Los Angeles right now, which is often sun-bleached and relentlessly up-tempo.  Folick’s sound, while beautiful and fragile, is also haunting and morose.  There is an eerie quality to her which sets her apart from the crowd.

If you’re into Cat Power, Beach House, Hope Sandoval, etc, Folick is well worth your time this CMJ.

 

Miya Folick:

Tuesday 10/13 @Cakeshop 9pm

Wednesday 10/14@The Flat 8:15pm

ppl

Phony PPL

If I had to describe Brooklyn’s Phony PPL in one sentence it would read thus: late 70s Stevie Wonder has a hip hop group. I like both of those things. Mixing jazz fusion arrangements, R&B rhythms and rap vocal stylings, Phony PPL’s latest release Yesterday’s Tomorrow is already dotting some year-end lists. You may even remember seeing the boys on Jimmy Kimmel Live in June, standing in as Fetty Wap’s backing band for “Trap Queen.”

It’s not too often you come by a hip hop group that is a proper band. This is no discredit to the genre, which is heavily reliant on brilliant producers and session musicians. But the rarity of Phony PPl’s musical fluency is part of their appeal, aside from being fantastic songwriters, and, let’s face it, adorable.

 

Phony PPL:

Wednesday 10/14 @Arlene’s Grocery 5pm

Friday 10/16 @The Wick 6pm

 

hooton

Hooton Tennis Club

 While the U.K. once spat out its best music draped in a Union Jack, our friends across the pond seem to be peeking at our back catalogue for their latest inspirations. Hooton Tennis Club may be a British Pop band, but they are certainly not a Britpop band. Instead these Wirral four would sit more comfortably next to your Deerhunter and Pavement than your Blur and Suede.

Having just released their debut record The Highest Point in Cliff Town on the reputable Heavenly Recordings, Hooton have been on the tour circuit for quite some time, made an appearance on BBC Radio 6, and were featured in NME’s “New Band of the Week” column. Not bad for four lads from Wirral.

 

Hooton Tennis Club:

Tuesday 10/13 @Rockwood Music Hall Stage 2. 5pm

Wednesday 10/14 @Cakeshop 7pm

 

kamasi

Kamasi Washington

You may have not heard of Kamasi Washington, but you’ve probably heard him. He wrote most of the arrangements on this little record called To Pimp a Butterfly by some guy named Kendrick Lamar.

Washington is a man of many talents. A saxophonist and multi-instrumentalist, he has performed and recorded with the likes of Thundercat, Broken Bells, Stanley Clarke and Snoop Dogg. Though his credits as collaborator and contributor finally gave way to a headlining title with the release of his LP The Epic this May. Epic is no understatement-the album clocks in just under three hours and has a transcendent quality to it. This is textured, full-bodied jazz with elements of gospel, funk and soul. What’s not to like?

 


Kamasi Washington:

Thursday 10/15 @BRIC House 7:30pm

Friday 10/16 @Le Poisson Rouge 6:30pm

 

Landshapes_HighRes-1957_732_487

Landshapes

Another U.K. band (we can’t help ourselves!) Landshapes merge noisy psych rock with pop-punk tempos and infectious melodies.  Originally called Lulu and the Lampshades, a Paris venue misspelled “Lampshades” as “Landshapes” and a new moniker was born.

Signed to the influential Bella Union label, Landshapes just released their second record Heyoon in May and it’s a rip-roaring slice of sound.  There is a bit of the odd in their music for sure as the band’s influences would have us believe.  Take the album’s first single lead single “Moongee,” a song inspired by a tale by 17th century Bishop Francis Godwin.  I hope their live show is as bizarre as their references!

 

Landshapes:

Wednesday 10/14 @Palisades 10pm

Thursday 10/15 @Le Poisson Rouge 9pm

Saturday 10/17 @Rockwood Music Hall Stage 1 7pm

 

outfit

Outfit

Whether it’s Manchester or Sheffield, the North of England seems to have a penchant for churning out great bands. Outfit is no exception. Originally from Liverpool, Outfit are only two albums deep in their catalogue, but quality is shouting louder than quantity in this case. Slowness, their latest LP, is a study in subtlety, drifting between melancholy and melody with a sophisticated ease for such a young band. To me they sound like a drowsy Prefab Sprout, so you can expect masterfully constructed pop songs that verge on the edge of bizarre.

More frequently Outfit is compared to Hot Chip, though I’m not hearing this so much, save for the fact that lead singer Andrew Hunt does sound oddly like Chip’s Alexis Taylor on a couple of tracks. Either way, Outfit is a band worth hearing.

 


Outfit:

Wednesday 10/14 @Passenger Bar 9pm

Saturday 10/17 @Pianos (Upstairs) 8:10pm

 

protomartyr

Protomartyr

In the broadest of terms, Protomartyr is a punk band from Detroit. Though listening closer you’ll discover a group with far more depth than that description. Piloted by singer/songwriter Joe Casey, Protomartyr exude a dark pensiveness akin to The Minutemen with swaths of aggressive post punk coating discordant melodies – if you can call them melodies.

Despite occupying a genre often bound by obscurity, Protomartyr have a decent following under their belt. Signed to Sub Pop imprint Hardly Art records, the foursome just released their third record The Agent Intellect today. What better way to celebrate their new LP than to catch them live next week?


Protomartyr:

Wednesday 10/14 @Santo’s Party House 11:15pm

Friday 10/16 @Rough Trade 7pm (with Drinks, Mothers, Car Seat Headreast, Modern Vices)

 

VIDEO REVIEW: Sean Nicholas Savage’s “The Rat”

Sean Nicholas Savage

 

Sean Nicholas Savage

If ever in search of a genuine weirdo, look no further than Montreal’s Sean Nicholas Savage. In conjunction with the release of his 11th studio album Bermuda Waterfall via Arbutus Records, Savage paired up with director Angus Borsos and dropped an eccentric little music video for his song “The Rat.”

In my brief history of listening to Savage, I’ve learned this: to hear him is to love him; to watch him is to ignite an obsession.

The black and white video opens with Sean in a corpse-like pose, weak light flickering on his bare chest and the roar of invisible surf scoring the image. Cut to a split screen of the wide-eyed man himself staring past the camera’s lens, his moniker in bold to the left of him. One would expect a washed-out and dreary ballad from a visual such as this, and yet thumping piano greets the ear instead. I’m hearing more Hall and Oates in this track than the somber dream pop I was anticipating.

A muffled voice croons that ubiquitous line of nearly every eighties pop song: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!

Our eyes finally settle on a direct shot of an alleyway resting between cement walls. Two partial orbs of light illuminate each structure with clinical brightness. The whole scene is as comforting as a coatless winter stroll through The Eastern Bloc. Savage, wearing only a drab pair of drawstring pants, stumbles between the concrete slabs with sloppy flamboyance; his movements teeter between gestures and dancing in the Morrissey tradition of physical vagueness. In fact my first viewing of “The Rat” immediately reminded me of Moz’s 1992 music video for “Tomorrow,” and I can’t imagine Savage has not been significantly influenced by The Smiths front man. He exudes the same boyish magnetism and ambiguous sexuality. His physique is likewise twinkish and emaciated, lending him an appearance falling somewhere between cover boy and malnourished prisoner.

The upbeat melody of the song is at conflict with not only the visual setting of the video, but also Savage’s lyrical content, able to simultaneously evoke sweet longing and bitter sarcasm. His performance in “The Rat” is at once bestial and soft, grotesque and playful. At one point he scales the two walls like a feral little creature and snarls directly at the camera like a belligerent chimp. I guess at this point I’ve narrowly escaped a pun including his last name.

“The Rat” is nothing sensational or groundbreaking in the realm of videography, but its perfect simplicity makes narrative virtually needless. The majority of it is shot in one take and comes off as entirely unrehearsed. Savage appears to be without any apprehension or self-consciousness; there is no forethought, no Ego, just Id. He is aware of the camera but in the same way someone is aware of his own reflection when they dance in front of a mirror. This kind of candid clumsiness is endearing and refreshing from an artist in his twenties; he’s not acting, he’s not trying, he’s just being.

And what a damn fine way to be.

 

 

TRACK REVIEW: Sean Nicholas Savage “Empire”

Sean Nicholas Savage

SNS_SEAN&DYLAN-photobyAngusBorsos

Few people can boast the creation of 11 studio albums by the time they’re 28.  Quebec’s own Sean Nicholas Savage, who will officially enter his late twenties at the end of the month (happy birthday Sean!), absolutely can.  What’s even more impressive than the sheer volume of Savage’s output is that he’s only been recording since 2008.  As a prolific staple in the Montreal indie scene, Savage has been represented by Arbutus Records (home to Grimes, Doldrums, and Blue Hawaii) for the last five years, and hasn’t wasted a moment since his initial signing with the label.  Following 2013’s Other Life LP, Savage releases Bermuda Waterfall on May 13th, and I suspect he’s already churning out new ballads for the next record.

“Empire” is the vulnerable core of Bermuda Waterfall.  A sorrowful track that bridges contemporary minimalism and eighties sentimentality, it is the kind of song that multiplies its infectiousness exponentially with each play.  Commencing with the twinkling chirp of keys, a patient but weighty bass line, and an unobtrusive snare beat, Sean’s clean voice chimes in with the darkly romantic phrase “We held each other in the empire of hate” that quickly comes to characterize the narrative.

His vocal style is one that is so familiar it’s impossible to recognize where you’ve heard its doppelgangers.  On the higher end of the audible spectrum, it glides between trembling, shrill, and soft with genuine ease.  This is a sensitive singing niche-one that could be butchered with cheesiness were it attempted by another artist.  That isn’t to say schmaltzy music hasn’t influenced the song; easy listening and corporate muzak rush to the mind’s forefront when hearing “Empire” for the first time.  It certainly has its roots in mid-80’s sap rock, but it subdues those elements to the most tasteful degree as opposed to satirizing them.  What could have been rendered ironic is instead painfully sincere, a quality that marks all of Savage’s music.  He writes as if meekly exposing a raw wound to a wolf pack, wincing and hoping for the best.

Isolation is another recurring feature in the annals of the artist’s recording history, and there is no shortage of it on this track. It is just too perfect that as he sings the line “Kissing myself, holding myself / As if you were, somebody else” he’s harmonizing with himself.  This kind of lyrical/formal continuity reflects the skill set of someone who’s been writing music as many years as Savage has been alive.  Likewise the thematic desolation of his words compliments the sparseness of the song’s composition beautifully. 

Savage is the kind of songwriter who has the ability to sate his listener while still inspiring a gluttonous hunger for more – kind of like watching butter settle into hot toast and spreading on three layers more, despite having plenty in the first place.  Given the combination of his talent, youth, and compulsive need to create, I expect to be slathering on much more of Sean Nicholas Savage in the near future.

Check out “Empire” below: