New Politicians capture the angsty, stick-it-to-the-man mentality that defines the guitar and synth-heavy post-punk genre in their second EP, Drag a City. The quartet of New Jersey natives harness a strong voice in the form of vocalist Renal Anthony and provide a background of significantly guitar-laden accompaniment from bassist Winston Mitlo, guitarist/vocalist Gian Cortese as well as Anthony himself. Evan Glickman serves as the pulse of the action as drummer. They use the four-track EP to remind their listeners of the music introduced in their first EP, “Alpha Decay,” as well as recruit new fans by delivering a refined, professional sound. For lack of a full-length record, it’s not a bad start.
Drag a City begins with the catchy “The Length of Our Love,” where a medley of dreamy guitar chords supported by a pulsing beat deliver Anthony’s crooning ode to the length of his love — for which he would tear down a city. It’s hard not to get lost in the pretty combination of instruments and voice and pay less attention to what Anthony is saying in favor of how he is saying it. It is quite easily the catchiest track on the EP and would likely serve well as a single.
The EP transitions into a similar sounding “Sail Away” where Anthony describes his love as plucky guitar chords set the tone. The most captivating part comes at the end when Anthony repeats a hypnotizing plea, “Take me home/ Sail away, away from here” as guitars and drum form a lovely, equally-hypnotizing cushion to the lyrics.
Drag a City picks up with “Are We the Dining Dead,” which is the most anthem-like song on the track. A call to awareness, the band pronounces their lives lonely because of their mistakes and lies. They offer up causes for their own unhappiness and hint that they have no other choice but to live their lives this way. Whether this is a cop-out or revealing of facts about their personal lives and journeys and the obstacles they have faced is unclear. Regardless, it will likely serve to form a bond between all those with similar outlooks, collectively nodding their heads and raising their fists at the unfairness of it all.
The EP closes with the track for which is is named: “Drag a City.” The song winds up slowly, building with short drum rolls to a soft promise to a lover to drag a city down, akin to Anthony’s love declaration in “The Length of our Love.” One thing’s for sure: the lover is worth fighting for. Once again, the instruments provide a great accompaniment to Anthony’s crooning. It’s fun to listen to and be swept away by the melody.
Put together, the New Politicians’s Drag a City contains a solid array of contents that blend well together and create a pretty package.
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]Lee Rickard, left, and Sean Bohrman, right, founders of Burger Records
In a little less than six years, Lee Rickard and Sean Bohrman of Burger Records have built an accidental empire. What began as a way to release records for their band Thee Makeout Party and their friends’ bands (Audacity, for instance) quickly morphed into one of the more prolific purveyors of cassettes tapes during a reawakening of cassette culture. It was not just that they were releasing tapes, it was the sheer volume of tapes they released. And quality was never spared for quantity; Rickard’s and Bohrman’s impeccably curated catalogue quickly earned them a reputation as taste-makers and made Burger a bellwether in terms of what bands to watch, particularly in punk, lo-fi DIY recordings, garage rock, and slightly left-of-center pop performers. There are plenty of acts on Burger’s roster who can’t be so easily classified, but there’s an overarching aesthetic here, infused with a carefree, West Coast, sometimes vintage vibe.
A few weeks ago, Rickard set out with a stable of Burger’s most buzzed-about acts (including Cosmonauts, The Growlers, Habibi, Colleen Green and Gap Dream) for Burger’s second “Caravan of Stars” tour. While Rickard is away, Bohrman is running the record store in Fullerton, California – also mailorder headquarters – with a very diminished staff. When we first called for an interview there was a pressing matter in the warehouse he had to attend to, insisting that he “take care of it himself”. Though Bohrman was slightly more relaxed when we called back, he never stopped working, even during our interview – he went right on buying someone’s collection of Japanese hardcore records.
It’s that kind of work ethic that’s often glossed over when the label is discussed; the pair are oft represented as stoned goof-offs who like poop jokes and bubblegum pop and started Burger to bring the two together. “It’s really easy to make fun of what we do,” says Bohrman. He cited a recent write-up about Cassette Store Day in which Billboard referred to Burger as “scabby truants” while using sun-dappled in the same sentence to describe Moon Glyph. “People have been hating on Burger since the beginning. That’s been part of the process of growing as a label and learning. The more people who know about your label, the more times you’re gonna get people fuckin’ making fun of you or just like, dismissing your whole operation in a sentence.”
Describing Burger as an “operation” is perhaps more accurate a term than “record label”; it’s a label first and foremost, sure. But there’s also the record store, which has changed the landscape of Fullerton’s music culture. Fullerton shaped Burger’s sound, says Bohrman, “because we’re so influenced by where we are, and Disneyland and the suburbs and [/fusion_builder_column][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][having] nothing to do. We have a lot more cool shows coming through town now, and a lot more people coming out.” Burger has turned Fullerton into something of a Mecca for fans and bands interested in what the label is doing. Just last December, Gabe Fulvimar (who records and plays music as Gap Dream) moved to Fullerton to record his second LP under the support of Rickard and Bohrman – he actually lives in a storage space in the store. Almost like a cult or the Mafia, Burger welcomes bands into the fold and they automatically become family.
“Any kind of way you can think of a band getting on a label, we’ve probably done it,” Bohrman reflects. “We put out so many different bands. We’ve had them come to us, we’ve gone to them, we get demos, we’ve had labels coming to us wanting to put out the bands. But for the most part, we seek out stuff.”
Bohrman and Rickard’s uncanny knack for identifying unusual talent is, by and large, the biggest factor in establishing the label’s momentum. They’ve been instrumental in introducing and supporting acts like King Tuff, Ty Segall, Mikal Cronin, Black Lips and Thee Oh Sees, now stalwarts of the scene. Bohrman shrugs this off. “Ty and all them were already on their way up.” But Burger’s rise to recognition goes hand-in-hand with the bands it is so often associated with; their trajectories actually compliment one another.
“I remember we were at Kirby’s Beer Store in Kansas City on tour with Makeout Party and Audacity and I was sitting in the driver’s seat and I was like we should put out tapes of all these records ‘cause none of the records coming out at the time has cassette releases with them.” Bohrman recalls. “So I just immediately emailed Ty who was in The Traditional Fools at the time and I emailed The Go and I emailed Apache. And those were our three first cassettes that we did outside of Makeout Party or Audacity or anybody. Then we got ahold of a bunch more people, then people started getting ahold of us, and it just started growing and growing and growing.”
Burger’s stars also aligned with the resurgence of cassette tape collecting, and in many ways, contributed directly to it. “I think actually we kind of helped create the craze that’s around cassettes right now, as far as just releasing so many things in the face of people telling us that cassettes are stupid and no one buys cassettes and why are you making cassettes?“ Now, there’s a whole new generation interested in the medium. “A lot of older people will complain that it’s just nostalgia, it’s just a fad, people will get over it. But for eighty percent of the people who are buying our cassettes there’s no nostalgia involved. It’s a whole new thing to them. They’re getting cars passed down from their parents that have cassette tape players in them and people want to listen to music and if you offer them a way to listen to good music, they’ll take it. That’s what we found out.”
And so they kept putting out tapes, sometimes five a week, amounting to, at current count, over 500 cassette releases (not to mention fifty-some vinyl releases). Bohrman and Rickard exhibit a level of enthusiasm for promoting each and every release that’s unparallelled. And they’re clever at branding too, placing the Burger logo not just on cassette spines, but also on tees and buttons that bands proudly sport in music videos. “We’ve just always been hype men, I guess. Once we quit our jobs and started the record store and started working 100% full-time on Burger that’s when it started getting really big.” says Bohrman. “This year, we got proper PR, we got proper distribution… that’s why you’ve been seeing us in a bunch of the bigger magazines and things. It’s cause our PR people rule. They’re really really good. And we’re really good ourselves just doin’ the grassroots thing.”
Their latest grassroots promotional project is their effervescent YouTube channel, known as BRGRTV. The theme song is performed by Free Weed and is as catchy as anything else in the Burger catalogue, begging the questions “What makes the ladies think you’re cool?” and “What’s your favorite TV show?” before responding with a dreamy “Must be BRGRTV” and launching into fuzzy clips of in-store performances or outtakes from music videos. BRGRTV’s off-the-cuff feel bares the mark of genius, but like most Burger endeavors, BRGRTV seems to have happened organically. “We met this kid Steele O’Neal” Bohrman explains. “He turned us on to Cherry Glazer and some other bands, and we really liked his name and he was interested in filming stuff. And then we had Jack Sample, who also has a really good name, who had done the Between Two Buns documentary for a high school project.” O’Neal and Sample had just graduated high school when they were asked to film BRGRTV episodes full time. “It just came from me and Lee getting stoned together and talking about random stuff and within a week and a half we had the first episode with the theme song. It all came together really really quickly. Since that episode we haven’t missed a week.”
That’s truly an accomplishment, considering the tours and showcases they’ve been immersed in executing. They virtually took over SXSW last spring with what seemed like an endless stream of raucous parties. Buoyed by the positive response, they began plotting their current tour. “We did a Caravan of Stars tour back in 2010. It was good, but it was hellish on the road. People knew what Burger was but it wasn’t like this big thing yet, and it was The Cosmonauts first tour. So it was a rough ride but everybody had fun.”
The road should be less bumpy this time around, because at this point, Burger seems like an unstoppable machine. The tours and the TV show, the acclaimed releases, the thriving record store and the enthusiastic new audiences all seem to highlight an incredible amount of dedication, hard work, and forward thinking. But Bohrman remains nonchalant. “We really haven’t planned anything that’s happened. Everything has just happened, with no we’re gonna put out this many tapes or we’re gonna do this tour or we’re gonna release all these things and we’re gonna be the biggest! It just kind of fell into our laps, and just started happening. It’s crazy.” But that doesn’t mean there aren’t plans for Burger’s future. “We definitely have plans for world domination.” Bohrman jokes. “New York, Tokyo… we want to go all over the world. It’ll happen. As long as we keep it in our heads it’ll happen eventually.” He adds, “We don’t have a lot of time to sit back and like, look at what we’ve done. We’re moving so quickly and there’s so many things happening all the time.”
Bohrman’s dream project is a bit unexpected. When asked what he’d been listening to, he mentioned Burger favorites The Memories, Cornershop, White Fang, John Krautner, Curtis Harding and Gap Dream. And then, without any hint of irony, gushed “And I listen to a lot of Weird Al. He’s not a Burger band yet, but I listened to him today. I’ve met him a couple of times. I’m a super huge Weird Al fan.” Is a Weird Al and Burger Records collaboration in the works? It might be closer to happening than you’d think. “He actually knows about us, cause we were trying to get him to play one of our festivals, and he wanted a lot of money but I kept telling people ‘Get Weird Al, get Weird Al!’ and like out of nowhere I would just send a text and be like ‘I reeeeeally want Weird Al for this’ and his people wrote back “Why do you want Weird Al so bad for this show?” It was for Burgerama and so I wrote them a really long email about how much of a fan I am and why we wanted him but I never heard anything back. He’s had a lot of original songs too that he could put to tape. I’ve dreamed about putting out an original Weird Al record with no parodies.”
Weird Al aside, the key to understanding Burger Records is that first and foremost, Bohrman and Rickard are consummate music fans. At the heart of everything is a passion for music and the effect it can have on the listener. Even if some media outlets refer to Burger’s sound or ethos dismissively, Bohrman and Rickard and surely everyone they’ve brought in to help out as the label expands are earnestly attempting to share with the world music in which they hear something special. There are destined to be those that don’t understand it, but perhaps more importantly, there are easily as many folks who absolutely comprehend the label’s vision, and to them, Burger is beloved.
“We didn’t see that when we first started making cassettes… but as time went on we could see that something was happening and it was growing and there was a real movement happening for what we were doing. Which has just been the best, most blessed thing ever,” Bohrman reflects. “I mean, that’s what we want to do – turn people on to music and create a legacy for Burger and for us and actually make a difference in music in general. ‘Cause music is so important. It can change feelings and it’s just a really magical thing and to be a part of it – to be like, a bigger part of it than I ever thought I would have been – it’s just the greatest thing ever. It means a lot to us that people are listening and getting something out of it; it’s more than we could have ever asked for.”
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]Gabe Fulvimar of Gap Dream. Photo by Steele O’Neal, courtesy Pitch Perfect PR/Burger Records.
Gabe Fulvimar neglected to bring a towel, toothbrush or dental floss on a cross-country tour with Burger Records’ Caravan of the Stars, but he departed Fullerton, CA with a few choice essentials. “I forgot everything, I just brought…I brought a backpack full of underwear, that’s all I brought. Fuck,” he laughs when we catch up with him via phone. He is somewhere between Olympia and Vacouver, and his companions on the road are traveling even lighter. “Lee [/fusion_builder_column][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][Rickard, half the founding duo of Burger Records] didn’t bring no underwear. He doesn’t wear underwear, he doesn’t wear socks. He is free of socks and underwear. He has unleashed those burdens from his back.”
Fulvimar, better known in certain circles by his musical moniker Gap Dream, isn’t letting his lack of toiletries get to him. He’s riding high on the impending release of his second LP, Shine Your Light, out 11/12/13 on Burger Records, the Fullerton based imprint that built a reputation on releasing eccentric lo-fi, garage, and punk cassettes. When asked what he’s most excited about, he enthusiastically responds “I’m excited about all of it! I’m excited about the release date, I’m excited about the catalogue number, I’m excited about the cover, I’m excited about the little piece of paper that’s gonna go around the cover… oh it’s crazy.” M Wartella, famed NYC-based illustrator known for his work on Cartoon Network’s Mad Magazine, designed the holographic artwork, having recently hooked up with Burger labelmates King Tuff to animate the band’s trippy video for “Sun Medallion”. “He’s one of the most brilliant artistic minds of our time. It’s gonna look like Lisa Frank shit on mushrooms. It’ll be sick,” says Fulvimar.
As mind-bending as the cover art sounds, we’re not gonna lie – it’s the music that we’re most excited about. Gap Dream’s warped synths, vintage-tinged riffs, and intricate, infectious drum rhythms left us humming material from the self-titled debut since it came out last year. In the interim between records, Gap Dream released swanky singles “Chill Spot” and “Fantastic Sam”. While the newer tracks stay well within Gap Dream’s wheelhouse, it’s fun to hear Fulvimar amping up the synths. “I love synthesizers and I’ve always loved them, and I’m always going back and forth between guitars and synths. Right now I’m in a synth phase,” he says. “I just got a Moog Little Phatty that Burger bought for me, and I’m using that on the tour, not playing guitar, and it sounds great. It’s the best sounding thing on the planet. I love it.” Fulvimar’s reverence for synths ensures he’s not in any danger of treading into cheesy 8-bit territory on tour or on the new record. “It’s a classy instrument. You’re supposed to treat it right. You’re not supposed to treat it like Nintendo.”
Other than synth obsession, there’s another factor which stands to have a huge influence on Shine Your Light. Fulvimar moved from Cleveland to California last December. “The new record has more of a West Coast sound than the last one, which is funny because I didn’t think the first one had any sort of West Coast sound,” Fulvimar says. In Fullerton, he’s fully integrated into Burger culture. “I’m living in a storage space,” he says. “We have a good time. We work on Burger stuff and Gap Dream stuff all the time. It’s a great place to be. Everyone’s great, it’s like we’re a family living there. I love being there.”
During the recording of the record, Rickard and Sean Bohrman (co-founder of Burger) were constantly exposing Fulvimar to obscure music. “At any given moment I was hearing something different. We’re all hanging out, listening to music, you know, enjoying rock n roll. So it came out in the songs. It’s interesting to listen to that collection of songs and see how all over the map I was at the time. But you know, it definitely changed the sound. I dunno in what way, if it was good or bad, but it did.” These new influences provided ample inspiration for Fulvimar to take Gap Dream in some new directions. “I don’t like to do the same thing twice. I’m always trying to do something that I haven’t done yet when I write songs. I’m always trying to break new ground and trying to make something that I haven’t heard yet, I guess. I’m just trying to make songs that I want to hear.”
Gap Dream is poised to go a long way with Burger’s backing. Rickard is literally at the helm on the Caravan of Stars tour; Fulvimar says he’s “driving us all over the country, making sure we don’t, you know… fall into peril. He’s like our spirit guide, he’s the best of the best, he knows his way around every city in the country. He’s the man.” He met Rickard on the first Caravan of Stars bus tour, back in 2010. “That’s when I was introduced to Burger. And ever since then, it was me ordering tapes from them, and getting really stoked on ‘em and excited about what they were doing, and then it turned into me submitting my own stuff.” The label put out Gap Dream’s first LP and it gained momentum among fans and critics interested in its breezy, psych-tinged sound. “It just kinda took off based on the fact that Burger put the tape out, [and] people were interested. They got me out of the house pretty much.”
For someone who has been playing guitar and recording his own music for nearly two decades, there’s a level of modesty involved in those statements. Fulvimar remains modest in discussing his musical background, as well. “I started playing guitar when I was in like fourth grade. I never really took it seriously enough to learn anything as far as theory, but I always recorded myself and always found ways to do things with limited means. I guess you could classify me as ‘studio nerd’.”
Gap Dream doesn’t come across as your typical bedroom recording project, and in a live setting it takes on a life of its own. When I saw Gap Dream at now-defunct Brooklyn DIY space Big Snow Buffalo Lounge during CMJ 2012 it was a four-piece rock n’ roll outfit, but for Burger’s Caravan the line-up has shifted again. “Now we’re trying to hammer it down so we do have a set lineup, just because it’s becoming a pain in the ass to deal with that every time we go on the road. We don’t have a drummer on this tour, we’re just using a drum machine. It has more of a vibe like the record does.”
Assisted by Bobby Burger on bass, Fulvimar’s “buddy” Corey on guitar, and a drum machine, Fulvimar explains “It’s a groovier set. It’s got more of a dance feel to it and it’s more chill, more angular. It’s fun, people have been getting into it. We just did our first show last night, and it’s been a positive reception and fun, you know. We’ve been having a good time.” That good time is an essential motivating force behind Fulvimar’s project. “I love playing. Like, we love playing for people and getting their minds off how they owe rent or whatever. We just like to spread a good vibe and hopefully, you know, make some dough in the process.”
Along with The Growlers, Cosmonauts, Habibi, Pangea, White Fang and Colleen Green, Fulvimar and crew are about halfway through the tour, which rolls into New York tonight for a sold-out show at Bowery Ballroom. That performance, and the tour as a whole, is sure to get folks talking about the new LP. “I feel like if you love to play something and if you love what you’re doing it’s gonna come out sounding good, because you’re gonna put the care into that is necessary. It’s like cooking. It’s like anything.” He’s got his backpack of underwear, his best friends, and one other essential item: his signature yellow-lensed sunglasses. “I mean, I just started wearing ‘em because I liked ‘em. I had a bunch of different colors and my actual glasses broke and I needed something on my face so started to wear those all the time, and they just kinda stuck.” With the release of Shine Your Light, Gap Dream is similarly destined to become a permanent fixture – a little retro, a little brazen, and unassailably cool.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
Norwegian vocalist Susanna Karolina Wallumrod has roamed from singer-songwriting solo work to electro-pop collaborations. She’s teamed up with musicians, conductors, and arrangers from different genres to form Susanna and Ensemble neoN. Ensemble neoN is known for their flexible and experimental work, blending art forms, and partnering with visual and installation artists. The sound they have created with Susanna is hard to define, somewhere between classic, pop, and chant. It’s breathtaking, but easy to fall into, conjuring otherworldly spaces to accompany Susanna’s gorgeous, inviting vocals.
The first track is “The Forrester I, II, and III,” actually three songs in one and totaling fifteen minutes. “The Forrester I” very minimalist, in all aspects – mellow, minimal melody, minimal words repeated in different ways, minimal build and movement between parts. I find this an interesting choice for the opening song. There’s a bit of Bjork here, but, surprisingly, given Susanna’s pop background, it’s the Bjork of “Anchor Song”, not “Play Dead”. It’s more beautiful and less powerful in this case, though. Susanna’s voice is sweet and lovely, reaching some truly melancholy high notes.
The music does pick up a bit here and there with guitar and reverb in “The Forrester II”, but it’s a little bit boring. The music is close to creating a great atmosphere – it succeeds at some parts of the song with wind instruments and violin doing some world building – but fails to make enough of an impact a lot of the time. It has a score-like quality. I imagine if they pushed it just a little bit more in terms of melody and harmony it could inspire brilliant visuals instead of waning into something soft and sad and somehow less natural.
“The Forester III” has lyrics that push the storytelling into a more navigable space. “We can hear our children call,” Susanna cries, “Forest leaves us cold.” There’s still that melancholy that’s so easy for quieter, minimal music to fall into, but it feels less confessional and more actually personal.
Susanna sounds great on “Hangout” with its easy to follow melody and far more casual lyrics than “The Forester”. “Why can’t you hang out with me a little longer?” She pleads with someone unknown to us. The music also seems to take most of its direction from her vocals. This puts the importance of the song in the words, which is intriguing for a fairly classical sounding piece. The logic is simple – “When you’re not here / I wish you were here . . . Breathing the same air,” but the effect is very sympathetic. Though we don’t know who Susanna is singing to, it doesn’t really matter. That loneliness, that longing is palpable to us as human beings, something we can understand without getting at the complications or details.
When I say cross-genre, I mean it. The piece “Oh, I am Stuck” combines the group’s classical and jazz elements with a pop piano and vocal melody. Susanna seems more comfortable singing on this track. I’m not sure if I like that better, but I think it provides a necessary juxtaposition to the softer sounds on the rest of the album (the dreamy, wistful “Intruder” and the unexpectedly upbeat “Lonely Heart”).
This record is definitely worth a listen if you can get into a space that combines human fragility and daydreams of dark, enigmatic woods. Listen to “Intruder” by Susanna and Ensemble neoN below:
The Bowery Ballroom is a place I only remember through other people’s experiences. I’ve picked up at least two friends from the venue, each emerging from the darkness with tales of music, drink and being hit on by skinny hipsters. New York has an uncanny ability to recreate memories for you, and as I walked into the space I was immediately greeted by a few dejavu’s: the solemn look of the audience as they wait for the opener, the look of contempt from the people you share a couch with, and that beautiful look whiskey gives off…under any circumstance.
We sat in a back room with the light bulb twisted off (the overhead brights were too much to take) waiting for the opener; Rye Coalition had unexpectedly cancelled so it was up to Sacramento band Sister Crayon to bring the initial heat. Lead singer Terra Lopez’s voice cuts through ambient sounds to deliver clear, borderline operatic vocals; her dynamic with Dani Fernandez, who plays backing tracks, is arresting. Terra almost always sang in the direction of Dani, allowing the music to build seamlessly throughout the set. There isn’t a great deal of show in Sister Crayon, the feeling of watching the group ran parallel to the way they were lit: single colors, dark, unfocused; the perfect music for reflection.
The highlight of the set for me was Sister Crayon’s stellar performance of their single “Floating Heads”; the song has the right combination of the bands best traits: moody undertones, backed by the power of Lopez’s voice: “You can keep the past away. You can keep the past away. Mouthing mantras to make me calm, look at what I’ve done.” The band has gone through a lot of changes in the two years since their initial formation; Lopez and Fernandez performed as duo Silent and Clementine for the first year, before bringing in keys player Genarro Ulloa and drummer Nicholas Suhr. Lopez said of band’s name change: “I didn’t want to be shy anymore, and I wanted to have a name that was bolder, and a completely different alter ego”.
Bosnian Rainbows may relate to the feeling of changing alter egos. The band was created when ex-Mars Volta/At the Drive-In guitarist Omar Rodríguez-López invited Teri Gender Bender (Le Butcherettes), Deantoni Parks and Nicci Kasper (KUDU) to perform material off of Rodríguez-López’s Octopus Koolaid; it was during impromptu jam sessions that the group first saw the potential of starting a new band. Rodríguez-López said of the group “It’s completely different in that it’s completely collaborative. All four people are composing. We all have input on everything. A track can start from anything. It can go from a phrase that somebody likes lyrically to a track that the rest of us flesh out and flip around. The idea was to put together a group of four band leaders, four producers, four composers…Nobody has a reason to be here except wanting to serve the music”
The first time I saw Bosnian Rainbows live I watched Teri Gender Bender punch herself in the throat while singing. It is a moment that has come to epitomize the band for me: a group of artists who normally push back even in collaboration, finding a common ground to build upon. My own anticipation of their performance was apparent as I sucked down my whiskeys and talked excitedly beside dull-faced strangers.
“Eli, Eli, you can’t tell left from right
Eli, Eli, your eyes are black and white
Why, why, why, why do you smile at me?
Oh, why do you smile at me?”
In Gender Bender’s first moments on stage she stands like a rock; the music drifting around her body as she slowly bends, her voice expelling the words. The band works like a well-oiled machine: no lyric, no note out of place. The audience connects to the music through Gender Bender; it’s her hands they get to touch, her body that is flung out into the crowd, her bare feet moving lithely across the stage. “I use my body as an instrument”, she has said of her movements; indeed the way that she contorts her body throughout a performance has the power of speech. Just as she is the only band member who sings lead, she is also the only one who speaks between songs; her ‘thank yous’ are sweet and disarming, very different from her on stage persona.
The inclusive nature of the group is apparent within the scope of this debut album; it isn’t an album where one could pick out who wrote what. It has a great deal of range between singles, but the arc is decidedly spooky and popish. Bosnian Rainbow’s next project is a Spanish version of the same album. The group hopes that this will open up new doors in Latin Rock, as many concert venues in Latin America only allow acts that play in Spanish. Whether their next show is in Spanish or English, I know that I will be there.
The show was solid; entertaining; introspective and dangerous all at the same time. It’s music that forces your body to move, even though I doubt anyone would call it dance music. But I did dance. I danced to the beats of ‘Dig Right In Me’; I bounced to the hypnotic, sinister ‘I Cry For You’; I swayed to the lovelorn feel of ‘Turtleneck”.
Bosnian Rainbows doesn’t do encores. And as far as I can tell, there is no need for them to start. By the end of a Bosnian Rainbow show the audience is exhausted, drunk from the performance as well as the whiskey gingers.
Mike Doughty has been through a lot in his musical career. He divorced his commercially successful band Soul Coughing, which he considered a “dark, abusive marriage”, was dropped from Warner record label, and battled it out with a drug addiction. Through his struggle, he’s grown into a grounded solo artist who makes music with simplicity, sincerity and wisdom. This June 19th he brought his stripped down singer-songwriter act to Music Hall of Williamsburg, and shared the headline with Low, another Americana inspired band. Doughty’s mischievous demeanor and catchy singer songwriter style balanced Low’s emotionally drenched slowcore approach.
Doughty’s songs revolve around poetic storytelling. Doughty recently released a book of poetry entitled Slanky, and uses this brand of poetic wordplay and fantastic imagery in his lyrics. The lyrics are heady yet relatable and touch on classic folk and americana themes of love, leaving and emotional journey. With only guitar and drums on stage, the vocals are exposed; thus his strong lyric writing abilities carry the songs.
“Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well” is Doughty’s most commercially successful song, and was created out of literary inspiration from Haruki Murakami’s novel Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. On stage, Doughty quips “Sandra Oh made out to this song in an elevator once.” The hit song was indeed featured in an episode of Gray’s Anatomy, as well as on Veronica Mars and on DavidLetterman. Doughty also draws inspiration from John Denver, and his latest album The Flip Is Another Honey includes several covers. “Sunshine on My Shoulders” is a cover of Denver’s “Sunshine”, and unexpectedly incorporates rapping. The impetus for this style mash-up, Doughty explains, is that he needed to impress his rapper girlfriend.
Doughty’s music is best live, as he inserts amusing tidbits of his musical journey and colorful past. Doughty quickly lets the audience in, shares his secrets and disarms the crowd. His guitar playing is not virtuosic, nor does it need to be. He plays with unique flare, as though his guitar is nearly too hot to touch, and keeps an upbeat rhythmic style coursing throughout. He pokes and prods drummer Pete “Pancho” Wilhoit, as Wilhoit has quite the serious attitude in relation to Doughty. The exchanges between the two were entertaining, partly because Doughty’s musical background sounds more instinctual than technical, and can be a challenge for a technically minded drummer to follow.
Dave Matthews is a professed fan of Mike Doughty, and it’s no wonder; they sound quite similar at times. Just add a soulful saxophone solo to Doughty’s “Looking at the World…”, and the Matthews songwriting formula is captured. Doughty’s signature vocal lilt and low bluesy rasp, folk rock/blues influenced range compares closely with his American rock contemporary. Yet Doughty diverges from Matthews in his stripped down performance style and ability to catch his audience off guard.
Mike Doughty has released five solo albums and is currently in the process of reworking some of his older Soul Coughing songs. His music connects to emotional depth and honesty, but keeps it light all the same. He’s a singer songwriter who boldly shares his wisdom from mistakes and struggles, all with a twinkle in his eye.
Low has made a career of slowcore, which is a feat to sustain over the course of their lengthy run as a band. The slowcore genre envelops listeners with minimalist melodies, downbeat tempos and emotionally vulnerable vocals. Low embodies this genre, and rarely diverges from the melancholy mood they create onstage.
The band is based out of Duluth, Minnesota. In my college years at the University of Minnesota Duluth, Low was an unforgettable musical discovery. In 2009 I saw them perform on a small stage of Teatro Zuccone, and I was electrified by their ability to shift the mood of the entire theater, hush and lull the crowd, and create a beautifully vulnerable performance. Now, seeing Low again after all these years, I was elated to hear the band stay true to their roots and the sound they crafted years ago.
Low played plenty of crowd pleasing hits from their catalog, including “Violent Past”, “Monkey”, and “Dragonfly”, but also languished in their newest album The Invisible Way. This album breaks a bit from their traditional sound, as the music focuses more on drummer Mimi Parker’s vocals. She sings with a rich, dark , trembling tone, and her vocals are thick with expressiveness and a hint of sadness. Parker typically sings harmony to Alan Sparhawk’s lead vocals, so this shift added greater variety to their sound as a band.
By committing to this mood influenced style, Low limits their musical range. The band rarely performs upbeat music, although they do have the ability to uplift their listeners or bring them to a sad melancholy state. Their vocal harmonizing melts the heart, and Steve Garrington expertly upholds the melody on piano and bass. Parker’s drum playing is extremely simple and straight forward, and serves as the heart beat of the band.
“On My Own” was a weak spot in the set. The song is off the latest album, and falls flat on stage. Sparhawk sings the words “happy birthday” over and over until he begins to sound like a broken record. Possibly the intention was to transport the audience through repetition, but to where, it was unclear. Low closed with the song “Canada”, which has a driving drum beat and an uplifting mood, and showed off the band’s emotional range.
The set at Music Hall of Williamsburg was pretty, emotionally wrought, exposed, dark, sad, gentle and intense. Low captures so many nuances in their songs, and continues to grow and deepen as a band. If you’ve been a longtime fan, or are hearing them for the first time, you’ll hear a sound that is current and familiar all at once.
Five years ago I was depressed. I was going through my first real breakup, I was drinking too much (the kind of drinking where you justify having vodka with breakfast) and I was taking a lot of two-hour long walks. It was during those walks along Lake Superior that I first fell in love with The National. Matt Berninger’s forlorn voice was the perfect companion for my sorry state; he didn’t judge me as I drank by myself watching ‘How I met Your Mother’, he sat right along side me, laughing with that gravely voice of his.
When I imagined seeing The National live, I pictured sitting next to Berninger at Club Saratoga (a strip club/music venue in Duluth) while he serenaded me sweetly across glasses of whiskey & rye. Instead I entered the belly of Barclays center, clutching my Stella as I looked around the auditorium thinking, “Is this really where I want to see The National?” The arena seemed imposing and the stage looked liked a child’s dollhouse in comparison; the amount of sound & stage presence needed to fill such a venue was not something that I would normally attribute to The National.
Opening act, Youth Lagoon, seemed determined to prepare the audience for the night’s melancholy orgy. Standing in a straight line across the stage, the bands music as well as its style was strangely uniform. It took me a good four songs to figure out who was the lead singer, and by that point my beer glass was empty so I quickly vacated to the booze line. Overall, the Boise, Idaho band, fronted by singer Trevor Powers, gives off the feeling of listening to music under water: pleasant, calming, easy to ignore.
The National, from the moment they stepped on stage, gave off the confidence of a band well seasoned. “This is where it all started. We’re so happy to be back at Barclays, “ Berninger quipped with an uncomfortable laugh. “Don’t Swallow the Cap”, from their most recent album Trouble Will Find Me, lead off the night, but the third song “Mistaken for Strangers” was what got audience attention. The most interesting part of the night was watching the band’s nervous, excited energy shift throughout their set as they reacted to the crowd. The audience was practically a member of the band: encouraging, singing backup, quick to clap at the slightest inference of a beat.
“We know this song better than any of our other songs right now. We’re well rehearsed,” Berninger joked of the song “Sorrow” from 2010’s High Violet, which the band recently performed at MoMa Ps1. Created by Icelandic artist Ragnar Kjartansson, the installation was titled “A lot of Sorrow”; the band performed the song for six hours, a total of 105 times. The joke was lost on me at the time, but after the show I was able to watch the exhausting repetition. Similar to their Barclay show, fans drove the music, raising their voices in unison to the memorized words.
St. Vincent’s Annie Clarke joined them on stage for their performance of ‘This is the Last Time’; her voice was airy and barely floated in the background. It would have been an interesting song to do a different take on, but as it was, it felt like Clarke wasn’t even there. Another aspect that didn’t quite hit was the inclusion of stock video in the background; it wasn’t until I saw video of smoke billowing up behind a tree line that I once again became aware of my lack of beer.
While I would still have preferred to sit close up at a bar or a tavern, breathing in the moody gloom, I was duly impressed with the energy The National conveyed on stage; the space they were able to easily fill. After a three-song encore, the band played an unamplified performance of “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks,” from 2011’s High Violet; the performance was sparse, raw. As my date for the night noted, “I think that was the most honest moment of this whole show”.
Harvestworks Digital Media Arts Center announces the 2013 New York Electronic Art Festival (NYEAF) in collaboration with River to River Festival, Trinity Wall Street, The Lower East Side Girls Club, The New York Hall of Science, The Hells Kitchen Cultural Center, Electronic Music Foundation and other partners. This summer series of concerts, workshops, and exhibitions is centered on the cutting-edge work being done at the intersection of art and technology. Events will take place of Governor’s Island and in venues around the city, and will include performances from industrial music pioneer JG Thirlwell, 2012 John Cage award winner Pauline Oliveros, augmented violinist Mari Kimura, and many more. The festival runs until Sept 2nd, and is full of free events which are open to the public. For a full listing of performances, see: http://www.harvestworks.org/nyeaf-new-york-electronic-art-festival/
DJ and electronic music producer LongArms has released a dance-worthy mix exclusively for Audiofemme. This 40 minute feel good track is perfect to pump at the club, or blast at your next rooftop party. The mix is laced with some serious attitude, yet maintains an upbeat high which may induce feelings of invincibility, a spring in your step, or a strong desire to spontaneously break out into dance.
Originally based out of Miami, Florida, Danny Lannof has been on the New York electronic music circuit as his alter ego LongArms since January 2013. This 23 year old producer has been creating music for years, and his tracks cover everything from electro-crunk to future funk, and everything in between. With a love for side-chained four on the floor beats, 80s synth pop stylings, and inspiration from Daft Punk, Justice, Louis La Roche, Vangaurd, and The Bloody Beatroots to name a few, LongArms melds these styles to create his own electro funk flavor.
This mix solidly transitions from one musical idea to the next, and doesn’t linger long enough for listeners to settle too comfortably into one particular song. Vocals sit toward the back of the mix, and are run through filters, and cut up and distorted to obscure most lyric meaning. Listen in at 8:40 to hear vocals expertly played like notes on a keyboard. These vocal lines serve as instrumentation and effects, and allow catchy hooks and beats to take center stage.
LongArms is riding the synth pop/ nu-disco wave that has hit the electronic music scene. Artists such as Calvin Harris, Viceroy, Breakbot and Aeroplane have reintroduced classic 70s and 80s sounds into their tracks, and the genre has made a successful comeback in countless clubs and electronic music festivals. LongArms cleverly weaves in this retro aesthetic that fans connect with, and mixes with current, edgy dance and house sounds, so the music remains relevant rather than nostalgic.
The mix relies heavily on the an unwavering four on the floor beat, which is also characteristic of classic 70s era disco music. Yet LongArms could stand to mix things up a bit more. He sticks close to the four on the floor beat, only delving into more complex rhythms on rare occasion. Greater diversity with his beat making could give this track the detailing needed to make this a stand out mix. He’s got us hooked, so we’ll keep dancing even if he changes up the beat.
Daft Punk is paid homage to in this mix, so listen closely for hints of their classic sound. Dubstep wobbles, airy 80s synths, robotic vocoder vocals, and crisp clean beats are all layered in, and the result appeals to a wide range of electronic music aficionados, as well as those who just want to dance. This mix is a must have for the summer. Listen to more LongArms here And as a bonus for Game of Thrones fans, LongArms has an 8-bit inspired GOT theme song remake which can be found on Soundcloud. For a listing of upcoming shows, follow this link.
Nightlands is the solo project of Dave Hartley, who plays bass for The War On Drugs. On his own, he makes dreampop records that reveal new elements upon each listen, like gems that throw off a different light every time you pick them up. His voice is lush and warm, and he often records himself singing in multiple registers, lending a choral quality to the vocal tracks–which is by far one of the most interesting aspects of his musical style. His first album, Forget The Mantra has expansive electronic underpinnings, while his new work, Oak Island (Secretly Canadian)–released earlier this year–has a decidedly more cohesive sonic narrative, with inventive, R&B-inspired brass lines and soaring, romantic melodies that make you feel like you’re floating in space, eliciting simultaneously sad and happy thoughts, perfect for anyone who’s recently had their heart broken, with just enough melencholia to open up those crevices of pain, but not too much that it takes you down. Take a listen to the album’s beautiful first track here.
AudioFemme was lucky enough to get a a little chat in with Hartely, to discuss his musical journey since the age of 13 when he picked up a bass for the first time, how the unconscious affects our creativity, and how we can all take steps to look at ourselves with more circumspection. Less heady stuff too, like Dave’s dream collaborations–which include one of my all time favorite producers (maybe you can guess who it is).
Here’s what he had to divulge to us:
Thanks for taking the time to speak with us, Dave!
AF: Tell us a little bit about your musical background? At what age did you know you wanted to be a musician? What kind of music did you listen to growing up? How many instruments do you play?
DH: I have always loved and been interested in music, but I think the shift occurred when I realized that I could feel good about myself through music instead of sports–when I was 13 or so. As hard as I tried, I just wasn’t great at basketball–the bass guitar came easily to me. I can actually remember being in my friend Andy’s basement and picking up his Peavey bass and cranking his massive Trace Elliot amp to 10 and hearing the entire house shake when I hit an open A note.. I went home and begged my Dad for a bass immediately.
The first tape I owned was ‘Born in the USA’, then came the Beatles, LL Cool J, Michael Jackson, Boyz 2 Men, things of that nature. In middle and high school I started to get really into classic rock and angsty grunge. Pretty standard stuff–I’m a child of the suburbs. It wasn’t until I moved to Philadelphia that my real musical education began.
Bass is my main instrument, but I’ve been playing guitar forever and trumpet since I was a boy. I can play drums and some keys/synth. Anybody who has been in bands for 15 years, well, you just learn by osmosis.
AF: What inspired your decision to go solo?
DH: I never considered it “going solo”, per se, I just started recording music by myself. Secretly Canadian wanted to release it, I was happy to have them do it, and soon enough I started trying to get a live band together. The War on Drugs (and other bands I play with) take up a lot of time, but there is also significant down time between records and tours. I wanted to write my own songs and stack vocals the way I like to.
AF: It’s been said that your new album, Oak Island, was conceived of with the help of your bedside tape recorder, which you used to document dreams and other night time musical epiphanies. That’s so cool! How do you think your unconscious affects your creative process?
DH: That was actually my last record, Forget the Mantra. I really think our brains are constantly taking stimulus, rearranging it, and spitting it back at us. When we are asleep it slips past our natural filters, I think. I’m always hearing melodies and things while I’m falling asleep.. I think they’re always there, it’s just really hard to tune into them. For Oak Island, I didn’t use this technique, simply because I’m better now at accessing that part of my brain. I can write songs without a bedside tape recorder…. although someday maybe I’ll go back to it.
AF: Is Oak Island a real place, or is it metaphorical?
DH: Both. It’s an island off the coast of Nova Scotia where people have searched for rumored buried treasure for hundreds and hundreds of years. It represents, to me, mystery without end.
AF: Are there aspects yourself that you discover through the music you make?
DH: Absolutely. I’m always surprised at the lyrics that come out of me. I don’t mean them to be coherent, but they often are extremely coherent. I didn’t mean to write ‘Other People’s Pockets’ about getting lied to by a friend, it just came out all at once.
AF: Do you think Carl Jung would like your new album? What about Freud, what would he think?
DH: It’d be pretentious of me to say yes, but perhaps Jung and Freud would be interested in analyzing my dream tapes–there are some really crazy, unhinged things on there.
AF: How does your new album differ from Forget The Mantra?
DH: It’s much fuller, with more low end. I didn’t really play any bass on Forget the Mantra because I wanted to test my musicianship as a non-bassist. Also, I’ve played bass for so long, that it is very hard to use it as a writing tool. It’s one of the last things I add. It’s much easier to write a song on an instrument you have little knowledge of. I also mixed Oak Island professionally with my good friend Brian McTear, so it is just sonically different. I also worked a bit more on songcraft, honing the lyrics and rearranging things a bit. Forget the Mantra was all about committing early.
AF: Which Mantra should we forget for that matter, and why?
DH: It’s just a play on words. It’s repeated and therefore becomes a mantra. It’s a paradox.
AF: How have your work and your artistic leanings generally evolved from your earlier days with The War On Drugs?
DH: I’ve learned a lot through The Drugs. I have tremendous respect for Adam and have definitely learned a lot from watching him and being around him, although we have totally different brains and working styles. When I started playing with him 7 years ago, I don’t think I was really capable of making an interesting recording.
AF: Your tagline is “Onwards and Inwards.” What does that journey entail for you? What do you think we can all do to begin taking those first steps inward?
DH: Great question. That is my tagline because ‘Onwards and Upwards’ never made sense to me. I’ve never been a social climber. In a fit of anxiety and depression I nearly enrolled in law school a few years ago–that would have been a tremendous mistake. I am not a mystic or an academic or a rigorous intellectual; I simply think that we must be careful that this experience of being human on the planet Earth doesn’t just wash over us as “normal” or, heaven forbid, “boring”.
AF: If you could collaborate artistically with anyone, living or historical, who would it be?
DH: I’d love to work with Brian Eno. He is a hero of mine. He is a man whose talent is almost exclusively this uncanny ability to look differently at things.
I would also love to play bass in the Rolling Stones.
AF: If you weren’t a musician what would you be doing with your life?
DH: Writing elevated science-fiction.
AF: What is the most inspiring place in the world for you?
DH: San Sebastian, Spain.
AF: Is there a superpower you wish you possessed?
DH: No.
AF: What exciting stuff do you have planned for the coming year?
DH: Some fun tours, recording projects and some sojourns across the continent and world.
Thank you so much for talking to us!! Your new album is a real work of art.
On Saturday night, half of New York City filed into Grand Prospect Hall for DFA Records’ twelve-year annivesary party, hosted by the aural, modern day equivalent of Jay Gatsby – Red Bull Music Academy, who have been throwing insanely well curated parties, shows and talks in far-flung venues all over the city over the past month or so. Tickets were hard to come by, released in bunches only to sell out immediately. So if you couldn’t get one, or if, say, you don’t prefer the glossy synths and throbbing beats of Yacht, James Murphy, or Planningtorock so much as you do Pharmakon’s heart-rending shrieks or Vår’s punishing electronic wave of noise, then you did what around a hundred or so people did instead and crammed yourself into pop-up DIY venue The Rink.
At the former (possibly current?) photo studio, there were no laser beams. Just a built-out loft with a sweep in one corner, covered in white plastic, Anthony Naples DJing remixes of the theme from Twin Peaks, a metal tub filled with water, and a pile of dirt. That was, until Pharmakon and Vår took the stage, together (billed cleverly as Vårmakon), just after 11PM. They wore matching white shirts and black pants that vaguely gave them the appearance of cater-waiters, but instead of rattling off the nightly specials with the skill of a Marlow & Sons pro, they hunched morbidly over a table of gear illuminated by red spotlights and took turns playing each others songs, each seamlessly blended into the next.
The event was hosted by Pitchfork and Sacred Bones Records, the latter of which just released Abandon (Pharmakon’s debut) and No One Dances Quite Like My Brothers (Vår’s first full-length). As such, it was meant to serve as a release party, but toward the end of the set it turned into something a little more like Spa Castle; each member of Vår doused themselves in water and rubbed dirt all over their clean white shirts, faces, arms, each other. When Margaret Chardiet finished performing “Crawling On Bruised Knees” (her quintessential set closer) she joined the boys in literally soiling themselves, then the group played one last song as a filthy whole.
I’ll admit that antics like this make my job as a music writer and observer of musical happenings way, way easier. It also makes Instagrammers blow up Twitter with pictures of Elias Rønnenfelt wearing a blindfold. And that’s probably the goal Pitchfork and Sacred Bones had in mind when staging the whole thing. It’s not that I wasn’t expecting something slightly controversial to occur during the performance after witnessing Vår’s onstage makeouts last summer. But honestly, it would have been better if Vår had just played their record, which is phenomenally beautiful and heavy but has these very strange, ultra-gorgeous pop inflections.
And Pharmakon? This woman does not need gimmicks. Her voice, and her vision as an artist, have made my pulse quicken every single time I’ve had the pleasure of catching her riveting performances. I liked the idea of the two entities collaborating, but I had imagined Chardiet’s signature shrieks over Vår’s dark, atmospheric washes, something new created by the act of playing collaboratively. I almost heard in my head her voice blending with Loke Rahbek’s, or with Rønnenfelt’s, or the three of them singing (or screaming, or whatever) together.
Instead, I was reminded of Johnny Ray Rucker III, a goofball kid I went to art school with. We referred to his girlfriend as Art Boobs because he hung all these naked pictures of her covered in fake blood up in the dorm hallway (it was with her consent; she was a bit unhinged as well). I know art school is a magnet for weirdos, but even among weirdos this kid stood out as weirder then the rest. Once, he announced a noise show he’d be performing by himself in the fluorescently-lit student center. During it, he screamed, he writhed around on the ground, he mauled a perfectly innocent sandwich, and doused himself in chocolate syrup. This is what Pitchfork has reduced Pharmakon and Vår to in my mind, and both are way, way better than that.
So what’s behind the shenanigans? Is social media to blame? Are record labels and blogs and booking agents so desperate to generate buzz that they’ll encourage bands to forgo any emphasis on their music and turn its live iteration into a circus? Should we veteran show-goers be glad that someone is giving us something to comment on, whether those comments are snarky or awed or some mix of both? It’s hard to know for sure, and that’s one of the reasons it’s a weird and wonderful time to be in thick of it. I might have found Vårmakon’s performance piece slightly trite, but I certainly enjoyed scrolling through my friends’ Vine feeds of the lasers over at Grand Prospect Hall.
The first twangy strains of Angel Olsen’s “Lonely Universe” drift over a packed crowd at Glasslands. The girl next to me goes breathless. She swoons, gasping this is my jam as though we’re teenagers and Rihanna just came on the radio, but Olsen’s measured, sorrow-tinged crooning is far from club jam, and the girl standing next to me is actually Sharon Van Etten.
This is how you know Angel Olsen is the next thing in indie folk – her biggest fans are the heaviest hitters in the same genre. Whether it’s Bonnie “Prince” Billy asking her to join up with his Cairo Gang or Marissa Nadler posting a lilting version of a Richard and Linda Thompson song the two covered together on soundcloud, Olsen is poised to follow the same trajectory.
The singer-songwriter honed her unique vocals by recording homemade tapes as a teenager in St. Louis before relocating to Chicago. It was there that she perfected her warbling, soulful wail, channeling something at once mournful and powerful. She released a six-song EP, Strange Cacti, on Bathetic in 2010, and it managed to grab the attention of the right people. Soon after, she was introduced to Will Oldham through Emmett Kelly, and her work with the pair taught her the joys of singing with a full band, learning harmonies and traditional folk songs while writing the material that would appear on last year’s stunning full-length debut, Half Way Home. Jagjaguwar is set to release her next offering, having signed her in April of this year, so at this point there’s pretty much nothing stopping Angel Olsen.
Whether her confidence is innate or bolstered by the reality of impending success, Olsen is far from a shrinking violet onstage. Lyrically, her songs are intimate and confessional, even seeming forlorn at times, but she infused them with an unflinching fierceness during her set at Glasslands last Sunday. Comprised mainly of familiar material, the live renditions were fleshed out by a full band that even included lush cello. It was a pleasant surprise to hear these usually sparse songs transformed, but the most poignant and heart-wrenching moments came during an encore in which she performed solo, calling on the same unabashed strength she’d displayed with four other musicians behind her. It was impossible to keep my eyes from welling up, and I imagine that this was the case for many other attendees.
Olsen might be billed as singer-songwriter but in a way she’s also a hypnotist, able to project a compelling electricity into a crowded room; the show that night was sold out but there were moments when I could have been the only person there. Part of that is in the revealing nature of the stories she is willing to sing, but there is also magic and seduction in the space she creates just by singing at all. With that voice, names from a telephone book might sound just as devastating. Instead, she casually delivers lines like “it’s known that the tiniest seed is both simple and wild” and it comes off simultaneously as winsome musing and a kind of warning; simple and wild are the perfect pair of words to describe Olsen herself. What comes next from her could be totally unexpected, but it is sure to possess all the timeless allure that’s captivated fans and her musical contemporaries alike.
The house was packed at Rockwood Music Hall for the album release party of Beat Music this April 25th. A solid vehicle for Mark Guiliana’ssignature brand of drumming, Beat Music combines jazz, rock, drum n’ bass, experimental electronic, and more, and melds these styles into a new amalgamated genre. Modern Drummer magazine states Mark Guiliana “may well be at the forefront of an exciting new style of drumming.” Guiliana’s precise yet unpredictable technique is thrilling to experience. An equally eclectic cast of musicians joined him on stage for a night of densely packed rhythms and dark yet danceable electro-inspired hooks.
Guiliana gained acclaim for his long-time partnership with jazz bassist Avishai Cohen. The pair toured internationally, and notably played and recorded at world class jazz club Blue Note, among other such venues. Guiliana joined the electro-groove trio Now vs. Now with keyboardist Jason Lindner and bassist Panagiotis Andreou, and the group continues to perform in New York City and abroad. Beat Music is a new iteration of Guiliana’s highly stylized drumming and original compositions. This release marks the first album under the Beat Music moniker.
To pin down Mark Guiliana’s style is tricky, as he seems to have created his own technique. He continually changes up rate, phrasing, dynamics and instrumentation so his sound constantly evolves. He anchors the music with his aggressive, inventive beats, and simultaneously establishes subtlety and nuance. Musicians in the audience were quick to absorb his penchant for a-typical time signatures and mathematical precision.
Steve Wall and Guiliana are responsible for weaving electronic texture into the music. Wall uses a Novation Launchpad to trigger recorded vocal samples, such as dial tone operator messages and sampled quotes from speeches. The recordings sometimes disintegrate into bizarre, warped tones that can give the music a psychedelic feel. These speech recordings are interspersed throughout the songs, and add narrative to the set as a whole.
Singer Jeff Taylor made a guest appearance part way through the set. He is the modern jazz rock incarnation of Tom Waits. Taylor nearly explodes onstage with energy and a bent towards uninhibited expression. He throws wild curve balls with his voice. He oscillates between an exposed, breathy pop quality, and a rumbling, raspy low belt that seems unhinged from reality. He scats, screams, whispers, croons, and electronically enhances and distorts his voice.
Taylor scaled back a bit for a duet with jazz vocalist Gretchen Parlato. Parlato slowed things down by deploying her smooth, hushed tones on a gentle yet smoldering song “Heernt.” She brought some much appreciated femininity to an otherwise male dominated set. Parlato and Guiliana recently announced their engagement, so fans can hope for more collaboration to come.
Chris Morrisseyis a smart addition to the group, as his bass playing is as inventive as Guiliana’s beats. Morrissey gained experience playing with a long list of Minneapolis based artists. As I spent my college weekends driving into the Twin Cities to see bands like Mason Jennings, Haley Bonar, and The Bad Plus perform (all of whom Morrissey has played with), it was a treat to see a fellow Minnesotan establishing himself in New York.
Long-standing collaborator Jason Lindner manned the synth keyboard. Lindner’s love for complex rhythms seems inseparable from Guiliana’s musical vision. The two thrive on each other’s energy and match one another in technical ability. With over 35 recordings under his belt, Lindner is an active player in the jazz tradition. He seems to be having the most fun on stage, and his exuberance is contagious.
Although Beat Music focuses on Mark Guiliana’s signature drumming style, the music ultimately relies on the individuality and technical mastery of a colorful lineup of musicians. This project is a fresh take on a wide range of genres, and defies typical categorization. Beat Music is for listeners who like to be challenged and surprised.
The Beat Music album was released under Rockwood Musical Recordings, and is available for download at http://rockwoodmusichall.com/recordings/10-mark-guiliana-beat-music.html
Violet Machine, a recently-formed indie rock quartet from Brooklyn makes music that inspires nostalgia for the early 00s. You remember, that one year Interpol hit the scene and provided NYC’s newest batch of millennial transplants with a soundtrack that, for most of us, will never ever lose its meaning or cease to make our hearts pound when we hear it? Many bands tried to follow in their footsteps; tried to scale those same illustrious heights the New York darlings managed to conquer within a matter of years, thanks to two momentous albums.
Most failed miserably at the task of building on the foundation Interpol laid, because their specific brand of drawling, brash, stripped-down indie rock just sounds derivative at best unless every musician in the band can deliver on the underlying conceit of the songs they’re writing. And this requires more talent than most possess. Subsequently, the tunes often fall flat, so to speak.
Violet Machine emerged onto the Brooklyn indie circuit early this year, and within a few months, breathed life into, and provided direction for a genre that had lost its way over the last decade. In essence, they are achieving what so many before them failed to. Their demo comes out next week, and promises everything we’ve been missing: the perfect balance of instrumental complexity and gripping, affected vocals that capture the attention of the listener and transport them into another world of city lights, heartbreak, longing…all those motifs that most artists seek inspiration from, but can never really in turn, transform into sources of inspiration unto themselves.
The first track off their demo, “Starlight”, begins with what could be construed as a formulaic, gritty and textured minor chord progression underpinned by catchy drums. Until that is, the vocals come in, soaring and tinged with retro hues, and hook you. The instrumentation is suddenly lent depth and dimension that wasn’t apparent before and the song itself as a whole begins to expand and appropriate space in the room, leaving one eager for the next verse. Though the melody is reminiscent of those written by so many before it, from shoegaze trailblazers like The Pixies to the resident bad boys of The Strokes, there’s something refreshing about lead singer Rob Majors’ voice. Most likely, it’s that you know it reflects how he actually sounds, as there’s very little post-production tinkering to the songs. However, there’s also an ineffable quality to it, that can best be described as simultaneously relateable and otherworldly.
“So Close The Birds”, their second track, begins with an ominous guitar line executed with Flamenco stylings that leave one wishing for snare drum or at least fuller percussive dimensions –perhaps the one element I would surmise this composition lacks. Majors’ vocals come in after a few bars though, and jolt the listener back to some memory of a times passed, not too distant a memory that it feels illusory, but distant enough to jar the nerves. Once again, the strength of the songs lie in their capacity to capture and expand on music that already happened, of which there wasn’t nearly enough.
“On The Take” also begins with an iconic guitar melody (definitely sensing a signature style emerging), that provides a foundation for the rest of the song, which is perhaps slower-paced, and more soothing than the prior two tracks due to its washed vocals that blend in with the guitar and bass for most of the song. It sounds almost as if you’re hearing through the receiver of a telephone, melodic and lyrical intimations that can feel placating and exciting alike.
Violet Machine has a long trajectory ahead of them, especially given the fact they are retrieving a genre of music that got seemingly kicked to the curb years ago. Their demo gives us a narrow glimpse into what they are capable of musically, and what lies ahead for them creatively. We got our hands on an exclusive release of the first track off the mix, “Starlight”, so you can see for yourselves.
After thoroughly enjoying last summer’s set at Webster Hall, I was pumped to see Liars not once but twice this past weekend. The first show was in the Met’s Temple of Dendur, which is about as epic as a setting gets. The band literally played amongst the ruins of the monument, built in 15 BC by Petronius, Roman governor of Egypt and relocated to the museum’s Sackler Wing in 1978 after being gifted to the United States to save it from flooding created by the Aswan Dam. The acoustics were either awesome or jarringly echoic depending on where you were standing, and where you were standing depended on gallery officials adhering to fire codes, but hey. The trippy projections flashing behind Angus Andrew and company were probably more than twenty feet wide and plenty enthralling if your vantage point was less-than ideal for watching the band.
The following night, Liars visited (le) poisson rouge for a show that by then was starting to seem like it had been cursed by King Tut himself. First, the venue changed from Brooklyn’s Masonic Temple for unspecified reasons. Scheduled openers Lower Dens dropped off the bill around the time the venue change was announced. Doldrums stepped up to occupy the opening spot but were foiled by the theft of Airick Woodhead’s laptop and passport, so the Toronto band never made it to Brooklyn, and Liars took the stage promptly at 8:30.
Both sets included songs from WIXIW, Liars most-recent (and most electronic) release. Considering that they’d already toured in support of the record, it was surprising they were doing these shows at all; as it turns out, the purpose of both was to debut all-new material. The new songs are, once again, heavy on the electronics and driven by pounding beats, but possess a darkness and urgency not unlike the mood of 2004’s witch-worshipping classic They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. The only actual foray into that material was during the encore at LPR, which ended with crowd pleaser “Broken Witch”. There were no encores at the Met so for those who, like myself, had attended both, it felt like a treat.
You can watch a video for “Who Is The Hunter” (from WIXIW) here. Below, check out video of a new song, which according to their somewhat cryptic handwritten setlist might be called something like “Can’t Hear”. It’s far more relaxed and sparse than some of the other new stuff they played, lest ye naysayers worry Liars are losing their edge. The fact that Angus Andrew is pushing forty at this point doesn’t seem to be slowing him down at all. They’ll be playing MoMA PS1’s Warm Up this season on August 31st.
Deerhunter released their fifth studio album, Monomania, and didn’t play an NYC show.
So Audiofemme went to Washington, DC.
Bradford Cox seems to me at times less like a human being and more like a mutable idea, an enigma, more persona than person. And after nearly ten years of Cox’s well-documented onstage antics and acerbic attitude I’m almost positive that’s the way he wants it. The music he’s made, both under his solo moniker Atlas Sound and with his band Deerhunter, has defied definition by drawing from many stylistic elements so as never be pinned to just one genre, but with newest effort Monomania (out May 7th on 4AD) Cox may be making an attempt to affix himself to a grittier, more garage-influenced sound.
This time around we see him ditching the dresses for a get-up one might find on a thrift store mannequin – ratty black wig and snow-leopard print polyester. He famously debuted this alter-ego (referring to the character a few times in the media as “Connie Lungpin”) during an unhinged performance on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, walking offstage at the end of the performance with his band still playing, his fingers bandaged and looking bloody (which was a supposed tribute to his father who’d had a woodworking accident a few days prior). The amount of buzz the performance generated is as good an indicator as any that Cox knows exactly what he’s doing.
There’s a specific segment of the population that can hear a phrase like “nocturnal garage” and go oooooooh! and with Deerhunter fans, the overlap is ridiculous. When the band’s website announced Monomania describing the material as such and casually hit other reference points like fog machines, leather, and neon, Cox’s single-minded obsession became our own. Recorded in NYC in January and February by Nicolas Vernhes, the material on Monomania is culled from a supposed caltalogue of over 600 songs which seems like a lot unless you’re familiar with the way Cox operates. Just before the record’s completion, the band saw the departure of bassist Josh Fauver, an event that almost shelved the whole project. Josh McKay stepped up to fill the position, and along with new guitarist Frankie Broyles, the newest incarnation of Deerhunter was born.
With it has come announcements to headline and curate ATP London, where Cox and co. will reportedly play three of their studio albums in entirety and Cox will also perform as Atlas Sound, meaning that Cox is going to be playing pretty much nonstop that entire weekend, and that it’s clear he thinks the only music worth hearing is his own. The band is also scheduled to play a slew of other festivals, from Austin’s Psychfest to Portugal’s Primavera to NYC’s Governer’s Ball, but no proper tour has yet been announced. I kept waiting for an announcement about some secret show in Brooklyn’s back alleys, but the closest they were coming was to Sixth & I in DC. And I had to know. Would Cox show up as Connie Lungpin? With or without fingers? And what would nocturnal garage sound like in a synagogue?
By the time the show rolled around I’d heard the album in its entirety and though it didn’t immediately blow me away, Deerhunter albums almost never do; something about them creeps up on me and then I realize it’s all I’ve been listening to. More than anything I wanted to hear the songs in a live setting, more raw and more raucous. The space was gorgeous and the sound super loud, the audience of around 200 seated in pews for the college-radio sponsored show. The first act, Mas Ysa, was a bedroom-producer type who sampled Counting Crows and worried he was going to cry – needless to say, a bit awkward. Jackson Scott performed in between – as a band, not as one person, although presumably one of the people in the band was the 20-year-old Asheville songwriter. While the group started off sounding a little too derivative of the headliners, by the end of the set they offered up uniquely textured shoegaze-tinged stoner jams. It had to have been one of their first shows and it’s got to be nerve-wracking to open for an act that so clearly falls in line with your influenced, but they managed to pull it together nicely.
Cox, replete in his Fallon get-up, apologized early in Deerhunter’s set for any incongruities, explaining that this was only the band’s second show (meaning with its new members, obviously). They opened with a droning jam that lead into “Cryptograms” which set the tone for the rest of the night; the majority of the set drew from Monomania, with a few tracks from Halcyon Digest, but everything seemed filtered through Cryptograms-era effects. Most tracks were lengthened by long, noisy solos and connected by interludes in the same vein. The sound cascaded in the dramatic, domed space, rumbling guitars causing old woods to vibrate. The audience didn’t move much, caught in the trance the band was bent on creating. And Cox was relatively tame, allowing Lockett Pundt to take lead vocals here and there, swinging his guitar haphazardly above his head only sparingly. They closed the set with “Monomania” and Cox abandoned the stage while his band played on, slinking down a hallway only to return for a blistering fifteen-minute-plus encore of “Lake Somerset”.
Noticebly absent was anything from Microcastle/Weird Era, but that doesn’t mean the show wasn’t satisfying. The live versions of the new material proved to have the flesh they’ve been accused of lacking, thanks mainly to the vitriolic snarl of Cox’s live vocals, so doused in reverb on the recording. Overall, Monomania has the messy feel of a careening drunk who passes out before anything catastrophic happens but in that way it’s also less exciting than you want it to be. As the band’s fifth album, it’s also a bit of a promise that Cox has made to the world – making music is not only the one thing on his mind, but that’s all that ever will be. No matter what bizarro personas he adopts or madcap stunts he pulls, no matter how he tries to obscure it with the act of performing the part of rock star, he will always be driven to create – nothing else really matters, regardless of who blogs about the charade surrounding it. The costumes, the masks, the droll, quotable witticisms he tacks to these projects are more a way to amuse himself, and he allows us to participate in that entertainment, questioning what it all means. But at the core, it’s the music which he’s obsessively written and recorded that will be his legacy. Bradford Cox does not care if you get the joke, no matter how much time you spend wondering if you’re in on it.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
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.”
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]
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]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.
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.
The 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 Bartholomewback 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.
Chris 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 athttp://chris-dave.com/
Originally 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 tosoundcloud.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.
Our 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.
Behold, a beautifully shot, brand new video from one of our favorites here in NYC. Check these guys out as soon as you have the chance to at one of their many shows in the area:
Disposable Handsis an ambient rock band led by writer and singer Charles Pinel, an import from Paris to New York’s West Village, and producer/ keyboardist Sam Raderesht. Their debut EP “The Waiting Room” comes out April 7th. Take a look at their video for the first single “Cactus No.9” also available for download on Bandcamp.
Bird Courage, the BK-based indie folk trio recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to fund their debut full-length, Maia Manu. Though they are bona fide staples on the live music scene here in NYC, they need a bit of TLC to get the last few songs of their new album recorded, mixed and mastered. They are nearly half way to full funding, and have another month left of their campaign. If interested in donating click here.
Ticket Giveaways
Each week Audiofemme gives away a set of tickets to our featured shows in NYC! Scroll down to enter for the following shindigs.
