Page 122 – Audiofemme

VIDEO REVIEW: Little Children “Impala”

Swedish singer Linus Lutti, known for the lush, orchestral indie pop he makes under the name Little Children, is set to release his sophomore album Walk Within this September. To herald its arrival, Little Children debuted the music video for the record’s second single “Impala.” Consistent with his signature sound, the song features airy vocals, steady percussion, and a grounding piano line. The video features a young boy – presumably in North Korea – with big dreams of space exploration. It’s a universal dream that almost anyone can relate to – at one point in our lives, we all had dreams of exploring the big unknown, of going further. The song’s hypnotic, repetitive feel adds to creating a dreamscape that is expansive and unlimited. It’s a whimsical feature, full of childhood imagination and ambition that matches the song in feeling and pace. The “Impala” visuals were directed by fellow Swedish musician Ted Malmros of Shout Out Louds.

Little Children debuted in 2010 with the full-length album In Silence, showcasing contemplative, melodic sounds reminiscent of Boy & Bear and Bon Iver. Since then, the singer has been steadily releasing music in preparation for his second album. He has enjoyed some exposure in the U.S., playing at festivals like SXSW and opening for bands like Shout Out Louds. His brand of pop music is calm and multilayered; besides his intricate lyrics, there’s also precise instrumentation and husky vocals that add to the dream world created by his music. “Impala” also appears as a b-side on the “By Your Side” 7″ out now on Swedish label Kning Disk.

VIDEO REVIEW: Cass McCombs “Unearthed”

The contents of Cass McCombs‘ long and winding double album Big Wheel and Others fall into one of two categories. About half are capital-s Songs, with verses and choruses, beginnings, middles, and ends. The rest of the collection expands, with mesmerizing slowness, to fill less rigidly constructed boundaries. These are not tracks, they’re drive-by moments that feel like scenes instead of performances, as if their gently cycling vocals and accompanying acoustic guitar lines had always been going on, and snippets of it happened to be recorded and tossed together into a collection. “Unearthed” falls into the second category

The video for the song consists of just two images–a wintery mountain scene and a climber crouching on his stomach in the snow–and for much of the song the shots stay so still that they could easily be pictures instead of film. Like the song, the video focuses on the small changes that take place in a mostly-empty environment, drawing focus to little shifts like the soft billowing of a cloud or small changes in the mountaineer’s gaze up the mountain.

Cass McCombs will bring his stark brand of musical hypnosis to the Music Hall of Williamsburg tonight, with Endless Boogie. Check back for my coverage of the show, but don’t stop there–you can still grab your tickets by going here. Watch the video for “Unearthed” below!

Unearthed by Cass McCombs from Eric Fensler on Vimeo.

PREVIEW: Who to Catch at Governor’s Ball

Governor’s Ball is New York’s rain or shine music festival that is the official kick off of the summer. We all love to hate it, and hate to love it. There’s twelve dollar Foster beers, long-ass ferry lines, and kids on weird drugs. Most importantly though, there is always an awesome bill . I think the thing I enjoy most about the Governor’s Ball lineups, is how perfectly curated they are to hit every type listener. Here’s AF’s picks on who to make sure NOT to miss this year. It’s two weeks away, who are you excited to see?

Diarrhea Planet

These Nashville boys are playing the festival on Saturday. Diarrhea Planet definitely fits in the mold of what’s happening in Brooklyn right now. The grungy catchy punk-rock sound that is both serious (in the sound department) yet fun party music at the same time. This set is bound to get rowdy. Here’s a track called “Hot Spit” from their new EP Tama-Uba.

Deafheaven

Deafheaven is black metal band based in San Francisco. Most people wouldn’t place theatrical and metal in the same sentence, but that’s exactly what they encapsualte. If you like hard hitting music, as well as fast-paced and engaging sets, you’re going to kick yourself if you miss their set on Saturday. Below is their most popular track “Dream House.”

SKATERS

The femmes are most definitely fans of local boys, SKATERS. Their new album, MANHATTAN, has been on repeat on my Spotify since it’s release in February. Below is their video “Miss Teen Massachusetts,” where the boys are basically trapped in, working at, and patients of a mental institution. Their set on Sunday will definitely be a dance party.

The Strokes

What new and sassy thing can I possibly say about the Strokes that hasn’t already been written on a music blog? I’m not sure. But I love them, a lot. They’re one of the headliners for Saturday. Find me in the crowd during their set, we can dance to Last Nite together. This is my favorite track off their first record.

Spoon

I first discovered Spoon in my Freshman year of High School from one of The O.C. Mixes. Yup, the truth comes out 8 years later, but I’m not ashamed. Formed in 1993, with 7 albums and 11 years under their belt, Spoon cannot be tamed. They’re one of the main Saturday acts, and I definitely think you’re going to want to be up close for this one, folks.

Interpol

Similar to Spoon, Interpol has been around for a long ass time as well. Adding to the Sunday bill a long list of gut punching sing a longs. Out Love To Admire from 2007 is definitely on the list of albums I have completely overplayed. Here’s my favorite song off of it:

Drowners

NYC based heartthrobs with a sprinkling of Brits, yeah yeah yeah we get it. Their lyrics are emotional (wannabe Morissey in the best way possible), and your songs are catchy and pop goodness. Playing around the boroughs often in little venues and bars, I am extremely curious to see how The Drowner’s sound will translate on Friday. My guess, is smashingly. Their video for Luv, Hold Me Down is perfect representation of what I’m talking about. Enjoy.

Washed Out

This band never fails to make me feel ALL of the feels. Their songs all mesh into one long performance of swaying with your eyes closed. Although all possess a different type of sound, when heard, each album screams “this is a Washed Out album.” Their set will be one filled with every type of music listener. Below is my favorite video of theirs, but I am warning you not to watch it if you are emotionally unstable. Seriously.

Outkast

Although their set at Coachella didn’t receive the best reviews, I honestly do not care. I really just want to sing a long every word of Roses, ok? I also strongly believe that seeing Outkast live is one of those things you’re supposed to write on your bucket list. This video is still golden 11 years later.

VIDEO REVIEW: “Night Falls on the General Assembly”

Leverage Models, Shannon Fields most recent solo endeavor, released its self titled debut full length album on October 1. The album’s ten tracks are filled with poppy synth beats, heavy percussion and dramatic vocals. While Fields is the man behind the music, he did not hesitate to enlist the help of a number of talented friends on Leverage Models, rendering the album a beautiful balance between individual expression and diverse artistic collaboration.

Leverage Models’ most recent video “Night Falls on the General Assembly” was released last week. With it’s off kilter melody, theatrical vocals and the spooky piano solo that opens and closes the song, “Night Falls on the General Assembly” is probably the trippiest song on the album. While many Leverage Models tracks provide an instant hook, “General Assembly” opens in a more whimsical and mystical manner, building to a subtler hook that arrives at the chorus to open up the song. The esoteric lyrics (Found out love can be a baseball bat, by the jaw you had drawn one man out to this mob) definitely mirror its eerie atmosphere, and while it’s still as momentum driven and danceable as other tracks on the album, its execution is decidedly more subtle.

The music video for “General Assembly” somehow manages to get even weirder than the song itself. It begins with a suited businessman sitting stone faced in a chair on a roof somewhere in Brooklyn while his cohort dance behind him. Finally the man gets up and joins in on the fun. The rest of the video consists of various shots of the four dudes getting crazy on the roof while the shots become increasingly distorted. Eventually our protagonist calms down, (maybe his trip has ended?) and returns to his chair for the end of the video, whose trippy and eerie imagery and camera work make it the perfect coupling for the aesthetics of the track.

Leverage Models will be performing at AF’s showcase this Thursday, May 22, at Cameo Gallery along with along with Weeknight, Long Arms and Young Heel.

TRACK OF THE WEEK: The Apache Relay “Katie Queen of Tennessee”

Instant charm seems to be the direction of The Apache Relay’s new sound, at least according to their single, “Katie Queen of Tennessee.” A swirling violin swings us into this catchy track that sounds like an oldie from the radio. Perhaps that is its sweet allure, as it harkens back to the 50’s-60’s crossover sounds of Roy Orbison. The track is a far cry from this Mumford & Sons opening act, who are normally classified as a folk rock band. There’s less acoustic guitar strumming, kick drum thumping, and chant-like vocals. “Katie Queen of Tennessee” instead focuses more on the blending of subtle sounds, from the sweet-singy harmonies to the ethereal pick of its guitar chords. The use of strings is also a nice addition, as it has less banjo twang, and ends up sounding more symphonic and whimsical. The vocal harmonies are a throwback to the classic love song with multiple tracks layered over on other.

“Katie” incapsulates the ol’ tried and true struggle of a person in deep, unreciprocated love who is forever soliciting attention from his object of affection. Although the song’s appeal lies deep within its ability to channel a much more simpler musical time, at the end, it achieves a reinvigorating sound coming from an artist who may have been pigeonholed from the get go. This song challenges what we know about him, and that in its own respect makes “Katie Queen of Tennessee” a very endearing listen.

LIVE REVIEW: Royal Blood @ Mercury Lounge

Only a band as rambunctious and buzzworthy as Royal Blood can make a New York City debut with a force as colossal as your favorite heavy metal band. Coming out of Brighton, UK, the outfit consists of only two players – Michael Kerr on bass and Benjamin Thatcher on drums. We’ve experienced raucous blues-rock duos before, but none quite so unruly or so thoroughly heralded. Their Mercury Lounge show last week proved that there is a new kind of loud on the scene. And although they played in Brooklyn at Glasslands the night before, the teeming crowd brought its own unquenchable energy, fans moshing their way to the front of the crowd just to catch a glimpse of the highly anticipated performance.

Royal Blood’s heavy sound is shaped by Kerr’s use of a Gretsch bass throughout most of their songs, fed through a distortion pedal. I also noticed that for their single “Little Monster” he switched to a regular-sized bass. Thatcher kept the rowdy, packed house alive with his accelerated and furious drumming. The frenzy was astonishing; I kept thinking, how in the Hell can these two guys create this enormous sound? I’ve been to my fair share of shows but trust me, this was easily one of the most intense. Though Royal Blood didn’t come on until 11PM and it was a Tuesday night, the crowd continued thrashing unapologetically. Usually I find time to escape to the back bar to refill my whiskey sour, but on that night I was too mesmerized by the pair’s ferocity.

Their brash sound isn’t the only impressive thing about Royal Blood. It’s also quite astonishing that they’ve garnered this much buzz despite being relatively new. Their debut EP, Out of the Black, was just released in the US, but have quickly become a band to watch out for. No doubt their SXSW performances in March helped cement the rising chatter created when Arctic Monkeys drummer Matt Helders wore a Royal Blood tee on stage at Glastonbury Festival. Add to that their television debut last Friday on Jimmy Kimmel Live, and it seems there’s no stopping these two, who are planning to release a full-length late this summer. If you’re lucky enough to catch one of their limited live dates in the US, you’ll want to purchase every single item off the merch table.

Kerr and Thatcher played a lot of the songs that will populate their upcoming release, as well as the familiar tracks from the EP. Right before launching into “Out of the Black,” Kerr assured the crowd that although it was so “fuckin’ weird” being in New York, they’ll be back. They extended the track into a mini jam session that left everyone enthused and hungry for more – including one very famous audience member: Jimmy Page. Since it’s not likely he’s looking to join the band as guest guitarist, that must mean he’s simply a fan, and that’s got to mean a lot to a pair of aspiring rockers.

You can watch Royal Blood’s video for “Out of the Black” below, and check out the rest of the EP via SoundCloud.

TRACK REVIEW: Spider Bags “Back With You Again in the World”

This night might be filled with sorrow

Your heart might still feel so blue

But I’ll be back with you again in the world tomorrow

I’ll be back with you again in the world

It’s hard to put the music of Chapel Hill-based Spider Bags into words. At their core, they could probably be described as a garage band with country, bluegrass, folk, blues, rock’n’roll and punk influences. Their unique blend of genres combined with songwriter Dan McGee’s ability to write punchy, energetic songs sets them apart from most other bands. With a lineup rounded out by Gregg Levy (bass/guitar), Steve Oliva (bass/guitar) and Rock Forbes (drums/percussion), the band has put out three full length albums since they got started back in 2006: Spider Bags (2007), Goodbye Cruel World, Hello Crueler World (2009) and Shake My Head (2012). “Back With You Again in the World” is the first single off of their upcoming album, Frozen Letter, out on August 5th via Merge Records.

While “Back With You Again in the World” is just over two and a half minutes, as usual, the band manages to pack in a ton of musical elements in a short period of time. After a brief introduction of amplified distortion, the track kicks off with an antsy guitar section. While two guitars battle each other the drums propel forward, building up to a country-esque solo as impressive as it is fleeting. Finally, Dan McGee’s vocals enter on the first verse. They waste no time barreling through three verses of the song, and just when you think the racket is about to die down, a saxophone solo comes out of nowhere. As if the energy the song wasn’t yet frenzied enough, there is a brief ritardando in the instrumental section only to serve as a bouncing board into and even faster-paced finale. Spider Bangs graces us with one last celebratory verse, and then it’s over.

“Back With You Again in the World” is the type of song that probably should be played at a hootenanny, or at least a raucous barn party. From the euphorically romantic lyrics (You know I’ll always be honest in everything that I do / I’ll always be honest with you, it’s true, I will always be honest with you) to the repetitive vocal phrasing on each verse, it basically forces anyone who listens to sing along. While it is the music that will make you want to get up and dance, it is the lyrics that will melt your heart, warm your soul, and loosen up your vocal chords.

Spider Bags is able to create musically complex songs that feel like they were spontaneously and casually strung together, and “Back With You Again in the World” is no exception to this. This general atmosphere probably speaks more to the band’s chemistry, a chemistry that allows the band members to listen to each others’ sections, to improve each other musically, and to make some extremely fun music. On “Back With You Again in the World,” Spider Bags have mastered the art of building complexity through a cacophony that could seem to some haphazardly loose, and given us a lot to look forward to when Frozen Letter drops on August 5.

LIVE REVIEW: NEEDTOBREATHE @ The Slipper Room

Despite the open bar and the allure of attending a “private party,” I could not convince a single one of my friends to come to this damn show with me. The conversation would go something like this: I’d say hey, there’s this concert, and it’s both super secret and free, and the band is a handsome group of fellas from South Carolina, and they play rock music, and a lot of it is about God. And whoever I was talking to would say ha, right, maybe next time, or make a joke about how, since the Lord was with me, I must not need a plus one. Even my church-going roommate wasn’t hip to Jesus rock.

Given all that, I’m not surprised NEEDTOBREATHE has worked their way out of the Christian music media circuit. Though they came of age in it, the niche has always been, in a sense, a limitation. Even as far back as their mainstream debut, 2006’s Daylight, the group has straddled the barrier between secular and sacred, pushing their image not as a devotional band per se but as a group of guys who are really passionate about a lot of things–the South, flashy classic rock, toothy smiles–and that one of those things happens to be God. Then there’s the trio’s personality to contend with–brothers Bo and Bear (yes, really) Rinehart are the sons of an Assembly of God pastor who grew up in the superbly named town of Possum Kingdom, South Carolina and have been playing tunes together since Bear was a high school football star. In college, they added bassist Seth Bolt, who looked very brooding and iconically boy-bandish, on stage at The Slipper Room, with his chin-length locks, v-neck, and many necklaces. The trio came of age together, both as musicians and as people. As they took the stage, all smiles and electric guitar flourish, I immediately got the sense that playing music is as much an expression of the love these guys have for each other as it is anything else.

It was that ruthless warm-and-fuzziness, not any lyrical preaching, that set off my allergies. The space was small and weirdly dainty, and the decor–floral wallpaper and heavy red velvet curtains–was fully committed to the cabaret aesthetic that is associated with The Slipper Room’s name. I’d never been there for one of the burlesque performances the venue is better known for, but I was sure that any members of the audience who had ever attended a more typical Slipper Room performance were now getting a kick out of seeing a trio of Kings of Leon-ish southern dudes, with arena-friendly power chords and an earnestness so potent you’d go blind if you looked at it directly, take the stage.

The set gained momentum, and the warm-and-fuzzies ensued on two fronts. The whole event was a release party for NEEDTOBREATHE’s latest album Rivers In The Wasteland, which came out on April 15th, and most of the show’s invitees seemed to be industry folks who worked in PR or for the band’s record label, Atlantic. Nearly everyone in the room had had a hand in putting out Rivers In The Wasteland, and the camaraderie was heartwarming. As an outsider, the vibe felt a little like walking into a bunk of teenagers at the end of six weeks of summer camp: everyone was emotional, and seemed to have inside jokes with everyone else–the only thing missing were team t-shirts.

Then, maybe five or six songs into the set, Bear paused and turned to look at Bo. The next song they were going to play, he told the crowd, sounding a little choked up, was called “Brother.” In the early stages of the recording process, he explained, the group had experienced some setbacks, even taking a break to return home and think about whether or not they wanted NEEDTOBREATHE to continue. Joe Stillwell, who’d been playing with the band for over a decade, decided to leave. But the way Bear described it, his biggest goal for Rivers In The Wasteland was to rearrange the group’s priorities, and bring its three members back to their love of God and of each other. Thus, “Brother” – a love song Bo wrote for Bear.

Look, I’m a skeptic, too. I know all that sounds a little cheesy. And often, it was: like in the first verse of NEEDTOBREATHE’s incredibly anthemic single “The Heart, when Bear sang the lyrics “Ain’t no gift like the present tense, ain’t no love like an old romance / Got’sta make hay when the sun is shinin’, can’t waste time when it comes time to dance.” However, the trio’s strength–which keeps their music from being instrumentally bland and lyrically over-sweetened–is their totally endearing energy. By the time they closed out the evening with “Oh Carolina” I was sold– if not on NEEDTOBREATHE’s individuality, then certainly on their earnestness.

VIDEO: AudioFemme HQ Open Studios @ Morgan Fine Arts

On Saturday, the Morgan Fine Arts Building (home of AudioFemme HQ) hosted its annual open studio, so we invited the good people of Brooklyn to come check out our offices and see some live music. We livestreamed the whole thing, but just in case you missed it, here are videos of full sets from the participating bands.

First up, we had Ma, a trio of punk ladies who brought a full drum kit and two amps to rock our little space! We are pretty sure folks heard Ma from miles around, not to mention the rest of the building.

Next up was Dan Goldberg, better known as The Spookfish. We first met Dan on one of his ambitious Mountain Shows, in which he plays and/or books other bands to play on Mount Taurus. Dan’s sets range from chill acoustic vibes to heavy electronic washes, and for our open house (as on the mountain) he chose the former, even covering John Fahey’s “When the Springtime Comes Again” as the sun set behind him.

As Train Trash, Gregory Paul unleashed an onslaught of distorted electronic textures and noise. His gear set-up would make the most doting pedal-heads fawn. He finished out our evening early enough that we got to schmooze with other artists, designers, writers, and filmmakers that populate our building.

We’re not sure when Morgan Fine Arts will host another open house, but we tend to do this live-streaming thing every so often. If you want to tune in, you can follow us here – you’ll get an email whenever we go live! It’s an easy way to feel like you’re right here with us.

ALBUM REVIEW: Popstrangers “Fortuna”

New Zealand indie rock trio Popstrangers have ditched the distorted noise of their first album for a hazy 60s pop sensibility. The classic sounds of London rock are evident in their new work, unlike the Kiwi-fied focus of their previous music. A combination of subtle urban anxiety and straightforward hooks forms the foundation for their newest album Fortuna, out May 27th. This is an album that really explores the emotional side of pop. Throughout diverse subjects of love, comfort, communication, and hostility, a singular mood prevails. Even though this is not a joyful record, that mood contributes to a strong sense of fullness which is satisfying and engaging.

Initially, Fortuna’s sound left a disjointed first impression. But the disparate relationship between jerky guitar and soothing rhythms gave way to a sense of balanced dreaminess. If nothing else, Popstrangers have created a record that is both simple and hard to pin down. Joel Flyger’s vocals exist in a fusion somewhere between downtown dance-punk snarl and 80s New Romo crooner, but influences on the record represent a serious range, from the psychedelic opening riffs of “Violet” to the urgent, Costello-esque pop rock of first single “Country Kills” in which Flyger flippantly laments “My country will kill me now” before launching into a chorus of “whatever.” The video for that latter track, directed by friend and Mazes member Conan Roberts, is particularly reminiscent of early-aughts Strokes. But these similarities are never overwhelming; the album moves gracefully through those associations with such ease that it’s hard to get stuck on them.

More than anything, it’s the simplistic undertones that dominate the record and make it feel like an instant classic. These songs take simple hooks, some atonal guitar, and muddy up the lyrics just enough that you have to strain to pick apart meanings and themes. The delivery isn’t jaded so much as effortlessly cool; tracks like “Tonight” come across as automatically familiar, making easy to get into. The simplistic melodies and rhythms push the tone or feeling of the songs forward, and it feels quite refreshing to be able to rely on a visceral reaction for once. As Popstrangers sing on opening track “Sandstorm,” “Sometimes I get the strangest feeling / Oh.” Like a sixth sense that cannot be easily explained with words, Popstrangers use these compositions to get that sense of drifting across, hinting that instinct leads to better understanding anyhow. It’s not minimalist by any means, but it’s definitely not incredibly complicated songwriting, and that’s more than okay.

Fortuna may not be complex, but it has just enough substance to keep your attention and provide some fun, without strain on the mind or the ears. Check out latest single “Don’t Be Afraid” below, and score a of the LP when it comes out on May 27th via Carpark.

LIVE REVIEW: The Haxan Cloak @ Lincoln Hall, Chicago

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Filled with a gorgeous mix of brooding bass and sulky rumbles, The Haxan Cloak show at Chicago’s Lincoln Hall last Wednesday was quite the immersive tour through producer Bobby Krlic’s bone-chilling soundscapes. An otherworldly performance, the sparse crowd was a bit of a disappointment, but somehow the empty space also added an appropriate sense of alienation to the experience. And as “isolation” is the big buzzword surrounding his most recent release, 2013’s Excavation, there was something gratifying about floating amongst the pockets of black-clad Chicagoans, swaying to the echoes of haunted drones and ominous rumbles.

Serving as an opener was local act Kwaidan, a doldrums-flecked trio who also specialize in stewy buzz and ghoul-ridden whispers. An impressive act in their own right, they provided a satisfying taste of drone-y demise in preparation for the impending spook-filled storm.

Krlic’s brand of all-encompassing doom is gorgeous in its simplicity, an incredible achievement when one considers how expansive his intricate soundscapes feel. Krlic’s dirges seem incredibly straightforward, simplistic even, as all his work can be boiled down to a similar series of rumbling bass beats accented by the occasional guzzling burble or echoey reverb effect. But it’s striking how multifaceted he can make even the most repetitive sequence of tones sound. When the bass is deep enough to rock a room, it’s typically a sign that I’m already far too drunk and at an event where sonic appreciation isn’t exactly at the top of my priority list. But this instance of vibrating ribs was obviously more breathtaking than booty-shaking.

Crafting an absorbing purgatorial soundspace, the entire show was akin to some billowing misadventure through an imagined land of foggy, pitch black gloom. It was brilliant “explore your swirling headspace” music, the kind that forces you to make that ugly face of grim concentration and contemplate what kind of impending shitstorm awaits you in the real world. Seeing Krlic live is like being bludgeoned in the head and waking up in a fantastical reality that somehow manages to be simultaneously thrilling, terrifying and thought-provoking. A mesmerizing experience for the introspective and imaginative that’s worth every single show ticket cent.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

LIVE REVIEW: Lazyeyes @ Mercury Lounge

On the closing eve of a very shitty week, I am standing on the corner of East Houston and 1st Ave, drunk dialing my best friend in Seattle. I lament my mundane failures, slurring and shouting a bit over the traffic zipping by, the ambulance sirens, and whatever other unidentified noise pollution that is turning my phone call into an extreme sport. It’s one hell of a way to start the night.

I’ve had five drinks since work got out, which for me is equivalent to licking a poisonous frog. Some combination of the motivational phone chat and my inebriation has me back in a hopeful spirit nonetheless, and I decide that instead of leaning creepily against the exterior of the Mercury Lounge, I should stagger over to that group of guys and trouble them for a cigarette.

“I beg your pardon gentlemen, but would it be terribly possible that I could perhaps buy a cigarette from you?” There is no explanation for the need I feel to become an English nobleman from the 19th century when I’m drunk. It just happens. One of the guys hands me a cigarette, refusing my rumpled dollar bill, and I’m relieved. Let’s be honest, no one who offers to pay for a cigarette does it without a burning reluctance, and if the money is accepted, it is seen as the most despicable offense to the occasionally-smoking public.

The four of us start chatting. They’re a chill group of guys who eventually score mucho points in my book when they invite me to a BBQ the following day. “There’s going to be a keg and about 100 lbs of steak, burgers, and hotdogs.” Be still, my heart. I ask if they are here for the show tonight.

“Oh yeah, we’re actually playing it.”

“ Oh, what band are you in?”

“Lazyeyes.”

“No shit! I’m supposed to be covering you guys tonight. I’m from AudioFemme.”

“ Oh, well, be nice!”

“ You already gave me a cigarette and invited me to a BBQ so I’d say we’re on pretty good ground at the moment.”

I’m already feeling better, maybe even a bit more sober. I order water at the bar like a champ and head into the venue. Lazyeyes take the stage and begin their energetic set-a fittingly gritty mixture of shoegaze and garage pop. The rhythm guitair and vocals are far-off and softly distorted in a manner reminiscent of Sonic Youth. The tang of lead guitar prickles in and out of the more ambient soundscape.

They have a solid stage presence and all seem equally enthusiastic as they do focused while playing. Jeremy, who invited me to the BBQ, is a more than adequate drummer, and he and the bassist have an affectionate stage rapport. The lead singer seems to be in his own world, putting on more of a self-conscious performance than any other member. He’s a pretty man, and he dances around like he just might know it. Then again, this could be my par-drunken interpretation of someone who is truly enjoying himself, not giving half a shit what onlookers think. Behind the boys is a swirling projection of wandering ink in fuchsia, emerald, and royal blue. I look to my left and there are two guys bent over a projector, one pouring shallow pools of pigment on the surface, the other meticulously blowing through a straw to make it sort of slow dance across the stage.

Next on the bill is Stardeath and White Dwarfs, a band that seems to be pretty successful according to the pre-show research I did. I listened to a few of their tracks earlier in the morning, and I wasn’t so thrilled to see them, unlike Lazyeyes, whose discography had me eager for their set. Like Lazyeyes, Stardeath feels the need to dress their stage with special effects. Though while the former did so in a low-fi manner, Stardeath played amid imposing columns of neon light that would be more fitting at laser Pink Floyd.

Their front man Dennis Coyne-nephew of Flaming Lips lead singer Wayne Coyne-is all Jim Morrison with long tangled hair and a sheepskin vest. The whole band is giving off that Rockstar vibe and it’s a little too much for me to handle. I suddenly feel relieved that I’m here to cover Lazyeyes and not Stardeath, a band that is described as “ experimental rock,” and yet sounds as clichéd as, well, a musician in a sheepskin vest. To their credit, they did do an impressive cover of David Bowie’s “ Life on Mars” which is not the easiest song to tackle given the vocal range it requires. Oddly enough, it was bassist Casey Joseph who stepped up to the microphone and belted it out.

After Stardeath’s set, Jeremy bought my friends and I all shots of what was called tequila, but what I think may have been an ulcer-inspiring blend of rice wine and acetone. The rest of the evening melted away with every cigarette I lit, beer I drank, and the vital late-night tuna sandwich I ate on the walk home. I never did make it to that BBQ the next day, but at least I made it through the week.

VIDEO OF THE WEEK: The Vickers “Senseless Life”

A couple months back, Italian group The Vickers put out their Ghosts album, a slow burner of a collection with a generous helping of sixties haze. Everything this quartet creates seems to come wrapped in layers of gauze: the beats are pillowy, the bass line, though too mellow to be show-offish, tugs on your sleeve all album long, and the vocals sound like they’re being filtered in over the airwaves from a far-away alternate reality. Though the group made international headway with “She’s Lost,” the first track off Ghosts, the band has a 7″ and four full albums under their belt. A project that began as a couple of classmates messing around with psychedelic covers of Blur and The Kinks songs has grown into a sound that’s eclectic and uniquely billowing. Listening to The Vickers, you get the sense that you can trust these guys to do more than just repeat the Beatles’ Revolver era.

Given the album’s gentle loopiness, the sun-faded, sweltering video for “Senseless Life” comes as no surprise. From the smudged perspective of a shaky camera, the video takes us at a lazy pace through a sunny day in the country. Its first images are abstract, fading in and out of a picture we can recognize until it settles on sunspots and a close-up shot of a concrete animal statue’s head. We’re in a garden of some kind. The visuals accompanying the song–like the music itself–evoke a soporific idleness that’s so acute you can practically feel the humidity. About halfway through the song’s four minutes, the shot seems to flip around and zoom out, showing a man–the first person to appear in this video–holding a camera to his eye.

Though I’m not sure why, for the first portion of the song, when the lyrics are written like subtitles at the bottom of the screen, it does feel as if many different layers–images over watery silhouettes, sharp text over blurred background–combine to gear “Senseless Life” up to its apex. When that moment comes, with crashing drums and golden rays over a smeared horizon, it seems as if the focus of the video lies in the accumulation of flecks of light that flicker, fade, and resonate with one another. The music is like that, too: echoed and aesthetic-indulgent. Although much of the Ghosts album feels too optimistic to coincide with the “touch of nineties spleen” that The Vickers refer to when they’re talking about the contemporary twist they bring to their classic sixties sound, there is a certain heat-borne apathy that pervades “Senseless Life.” But the effect is more meandering than disillusioned, more directionless than bored.

TRACK REVIEW: Turn to Crime “Forgiveness”

Turn to Crime, Derek Stanton’s new experimental art punk creation, will soon be releasing their debut. The album, titled Can’t Love, is full of what Stanton has described as “post-whatever” music. A keyboardist, drummer, and vocalist, he recorded most of the album himself. The track “Forgiveness”, recently released, has obvious influences from art rock and punk masters Lou Reed, David Bowie, and Iggy Pop. It’s a fun, modern examination of that milieu with a wildly different geographical focus. Turn to Crime herald from Detroit where “stepping on” others is not like it is in New York. In smaller towns, Stanton says, when you get stepped on you “tend to feel it more.”

From the start there’s a pleasant simplicity in the relationship between the instruments. They seem to be having a casual conversation with one another. Stanton’s vocals definitely recall the late 60s/early 70s style of Bowie or Iggy. There’s less Lou Reed in the vocals, but definitely a bit of the Velvet Underground in the music. The singing is not particularly smooth or soothing, but rather shaky and dramatic. This performative quality is tempered by the easy instrumentation. The kind of in-between Stanton created fits perfectly with the forgiveness concept: to forgive may seem like a straightforward action, but there’s a lot of weight carried in the interior decision to let things go. It also distances Turn to Crime from David Bowie by emphasizing the “small town” quality and uncomplicated acts between more ordinary people (as opposed to Bowie’s rock star focus). This is a rather effortless look at pain and compassion. It could definitely have more insight. But it’s an enjoyable, classic ride.

Look for Can’t Love when it comes out July 1st and in the meantime give “Forgiveness” a listen:

TRACK OF THE WEEK: Landlady “Dying Day”

Before forming Landlady in 2010, Brooklyn-based musician Adam Schatz already knew he wanted two drummers and two people playing keys. That’s the basis for the group’s complicated choral pop arrangements and powerful sound. But it takes more than bodies to orchestrate a song, and Landlady’s energy is matched only by the control the group has over the way the music sounds. There’s nothing chaotic about it. Each instrumental thread is fastidiously shaped and as pronounced as it’s meant to be, every dynamic shift is calculated for contrast–every move the music makes is palpably intentional. But though Landlady may be meticulous, their playing has too much melody and sheer pop-infused heart to seem sterile. Their latest song, “Dying Day,” is proof.

“Getting better every day,” the track begins with unembellished vocal delivery from Schatz. “I think I’m getting closer to my dying day.” “Dying Day” is a completely palatable experiment in idiosyncrasy and weaving self-contradiction. The lyrics correct themselves and mull over meanings and instrumentally, the song behaves similarly. The rhythms bounce along nonchalantly, and sometimes lean with their full weight into the backbeat in a sauntering pose that makes the music seem–for all its jumpy complexities–carefree. Although the song’s mood is hard to pin down when you look at it under a microscope, a less aggressive listen–road trip soundtrack? mix tape opener? These summery chords are damn versatile–makes for just plain fun.

“Dying Day” will be included on Landlady’s forthcoming album Upright Behavior, which will be out this July on Hometapes. Stay posted here.

LIVE REVIEW: Slasher Flicks at Bowery Ballroom

Embracing their name’s camp vibe, Slasher Flicks had the Bowery Ballroom decked out last Monday night in floaty columns of oversized white plastic skulls that hung ghoulishly in the pre-show spotlights. Skulls notwithstanding, there’s nothing all that spooky about this trio, unless you happen to be afraid of painfully hip indie musicians. The evening had been billed as “Avey Tare’s Slasher Flicks,” but that maneuver was mostly strategic. To be sure, Animal Collective’s experimental guitarist Avey Tare, alias Dave Portner, was the biggest name in the lineup, and Slasher Flicks’ recent full-length Enter The Slasher House does bear plenty of family resemblance to Animal Collective’s dissonance and oddball angularity, but when they played live, it was ex-Dirty Projector Angel Deradoorian who had the biggest presence onstage.

“How you guys doing tonight? I can’t heeeeear yoooou,” she doofused between songs. “Just kidding. I can totally hear you.” The stage was lit up in technicolor, pixellated neon flashing across the skulls’ white faces and then, with similar effect, Deradoorian’s. Pockets of color lit up the band members’ faces, and between them, abysses of darkness cropped up. The shows’ aesthetic had been planned within an inch of its life.

Avey-love ran rampant in the crowd, even if Deradoorian was doing most of the talking. “I love youuuuuuu,” bellowed a slack-jawed, flannel-clad stick figure standing beside me. Between songs, he’d been overcome by emotion. “Play ‘My Girls’.” Portner looked up and grinned appreciatively. What looked like hundreds of super-fans were standing around the stage, all agog–stoner nerds who looked young and overgrown, many of them stand-spooning their girlfriends and staring up at the stage as if they were watching history get made. “Wow,” one of them huskily murmured into the hair of the girl he was holding the first time Portner emerged onto the stage. Very few of them danced–not even to Slasher Flicks bouncy and thoroughly dance-worthy single “Little Fang”–though standing squarely front-and-center was a blond guy who spent the entire set shaking his chin-length hair wildly in the technicolor beams of light aimed for the skull decor onstage.

The riffing between Portner and Angel Deradoorian–who, unsurprisingly, are a couple in their extra-musical lives–is at the crux of Slasher Flicks, and it was easy to feel a little sorry for drummer Jeremy Hyman (of Ponytail, Dan Deacon), whose complex, meticulously shaped lines resuscitate many of the hazier moments of Enter The Slasher House. He came across as a supporting member to Deradoorian and Tare’s musical synchronicity. In fact, Hyman hadn’t known the pair before Portner recruited him to be part of Slasher Flicks, but a bandmate from Ponytail, Dustin Wong, was there to open for Slasher Flicks’ set. It was a stark performance–Wong played alone on stage, with only a mic, a guitar, and the skulls that hung all around him–but the set’s minimalism added to the intensity of his vocal acrobatics. He zoomed in towards the microphone and then cut away just as quickly, with powerful vocal control. It was a pretty extraordinary set, with a sense of order and minimalism that contrasted effectively against Slasher Flicks’ chaotic and kooky performance.

The difference between studio renditions of Slasher Flicks’ songs and their live performance came mostly in vocal delivery–though much of Enter The Slasher House was catchy, I thought that its angularity often manifested as muddled, overworked production that stood in the way of the emotive power the album was able to hold over a listener. Like the group’s live aesthetic–the glowing skulls, the bursts of technicolor between abysses of darkness–Enter The Slasher House was too flinchingly self-conscious. However, “Catchy (Was Contagious)” and “Roses On The Window” were two surprising highlights of the evening. Deradoorian belted out her vocal line, flecking the songs with unexpected drama, even diva-ishness, that drastically dialed up their power.

Check out “Roses On The Window,” off Enter The Slasher House, below:

LIVE REVIEW: Sonic Celluloid’s static & shimmer on Chicago’s North Shore

Misty seas, microscopic slides and mannequin shots dominated this year’s Sonic Celluloid showcase at Northwestern University’s Evanston campus last Friday night. Well-attended by students and community members alike, Sonic Celluloid is now celebrating its twelfth year as one of the most exciting experimental music and film events put on by WNUR 89.3 FM’s Rock Show and the Block Museum Cinema. Providing live scores for art and archival film reels, it was promised to be an event to “reconfigure your consciousness.”

To help facilitate altered states, this year’s roster of musicians included multi-instrumentalist and former Emeralds member Mark McGuire, as well as local Chicago-based drone artists, Vertonen and Kwaidan.

Vertonen is the rumbly experimental project of Chicago noise veteran Blake Edwards, who also runs local record label Crippled Intellect Production, better known as C.I.P. Playing over a Prolepsis, an experimental art film composed of pixelated night club promos, ABC news footage and panning clips of mannequin heads, his concentrative set was almost meditative in its adherence to the hovering camera shots and precisely timed transitions.

Like the film itself, Vertonen’s music was very cyclical, slowly building upon a lazy, droning buzz as the film drifted between helicopter hover shots of craggy human faces and topographic maps. Gradually layering wobbly synth, cartoon-esque glitch and choppy radio transmissions into one chaotic mélange of noise, Edwards eventually descended back into a lulling drone that served as a satisfying finish to his jagged, corrugated set.

Up next was Kwaidan, who borrow their moniker from Masaki Kobayashi’s classic 1964 horror film. Just as ghoulish as you’d expect anything named after an Oscar-nominated ghost story to be, their set followed the narrative of Jean Epstein’s Le Tempestaire, a folklore-influenced story about a surly old “Tempest Master.” Worried about her sardine-fishing beau in rough waters, a woman sets out to find this tamer of sea winds to Kwaidan’s ominous score. Most prominent was an indefinable sense of impending dread, tense and intimidating. Featuring Neil Jendon’s wandering keyboards, Andre Foisy’s croaky guitar and Mike Weis’s weighty percussion, the trio crafted a portentous soundscape perfectly suited to the film’s threatening premise. Looming and foreboding, Kwaidan had the audience on the edge of their seats, leaving many still unsettled despite happy endings.

The last act to take the stage was headliner Mark McGuire, who thanked the audience for bringing him to such “a beautiful building and beautiful campus with beautiful people.” Known for his adventurous, wonder-filled guitar work, the two short films selected for him were perfect in their geometric and naturalistic simplicity. The entire set felt like an otherworldly journey, whether it followed the cycle of crystal formation or the reproductive habits of octopi, filled with blissful tessellations and oscillating riffs. Glimmering and kaleidoscopic, he did an incredible job of improvising his set and adapting to the organic flow of the films. From the sensual slow jams of the alien-like octopi to the accelerating riffs of rapid crystallization, it was a grand, gliding adventure that truly took the audience to another realm of “reconfigured consciousness.”

LIVE REVIEW: Young Magic Album Release @ McKittrick Hotel

The making of Young Magic’s 2012 debut Melt was as international an affair as the band itself; Isaac Emmanuel was born in Australia, Melati Malay in Indonesia, and though the two met and started making music in Brooklyn, they’ve rarely been home for a breather since. May 6th marked the release of their sophomore record, Breathing Statues, on Carpark Records, and much like the album that came before, it was written and recorded all over the world – Morocco, France, the Czech Republic, Australia and Iceland to be specific. During a recent stop in NYC, Young Magic played an album release party at Manderley Bar in The McKittrick Hotel, the iconic location of long-running immersive Macbeth re-imagining Sleep No More. The setting was a fittingly opulent and evocative space in which to showcase Young Magic’s latest material, which is a good deal darker and far more sensual than their earlier work. The move has served them well, taking the shoegaze-infused dream-pop that characterized Melt and adorning it with a tribal flourish.

Young Magic’s core duo were joined onstage for a few numbers by a harp player, though she was admittedly difficult to hear in the mix, and also by their touring drummer, who punched up Emmanuel’s drum machine and synth rhythms. Malay manipulated her own vocals from a black box attached to her mic stand and let her voice dissolve in and out of the music. Clad as she was in a nearly-sheer, pearlescent tunic, she seemed both mystical and spectral, her stoic vocal delivery cementing this impression.

The release party was populated mostly with masked attendees spilling over from the evening’s final Sleep performance, so it’s unclear what they might have been expecting after disoriented explorations through the three-story warehouse. But aspects from Sleep spilled over, like remnants in a dream – a male dancer performed some breathtaking interpretive maneuvers to a few of the most provocative tracks, beginning with “Something in the Water.” Like most of Sleep No More‘s cast, he was incredibly lean, wearing only trousers made from the same cloth Malay dressed in, each muscular striation visible under the skin, his ribs on display for the counting, in every sense a living, breathing statue. For “Cobra,” his movements seemed to channel a Trans identity, figuratively acting out motions that felt like references to gender reassignment and other transformative processes. Though there was no costume change, as the number went on the subtle cues and movements seemed to grow more feminine, his gaze challenging the audience right along with Malay’s breathy words: I’ll ask you to believe it. His thoughtful performance elevated Young Magic’s songs, highlighting all of the intricacies and possible interpretations that the band have built into the new record. It’s a record that shows growth in the more atmospheric and intimate approaches it takes.

The album is available now digitally as well as from Carpark.

ALBUM REVIEW: Melaena Cadiz “Deep Below Heaven”

Brooklyn-based singer songwriter Melaena Cadiz is a a great storyteller. This Michican native combines folk, country, and pop in her music to create scenes which showcase lonely lives across America. Her new album Deep Below Heaven, out May 20th, is what Cadiz calls a book of short stories. The title comes from a Sam Shepard story about a man who has the sense of being deep below heaven when he falls off of his motorcycle during an accident. Cadiz’s own collection of stories chronicles Americans who are all struggling in their own universe, but united in that space deep below.

Cadiz has a great voice, eloquent and elucidated. Though she tries to lend each of her characters the emotion and energy they deserve, she can come off as almost too cerebral, lacking a bit of soul. But a strong sense of wanderlust is palpable in the music, a good reflection of the words. These characters are all “striving for a better place in the world” or a way to “quiet the deep ache within their bones.” They attempt to find an escape from their inner demons, wandering around, searching, but not finding any true release. Everyone is in transit on this record, physically or mentally. The track “Home Town” is great example of this movement. It’s a very personal account of someone who feels alienated instead of comfortable in their home, someone who decides to travel West, and the catchy tune mimics the gusto with which someone might attempt such a feat.

At times, Cadiz falls into a more pop-oriented indie vibe, which can feel out of place. But for the most part, her voice and lyrics keep it all from becoming too generic or one-note. In the same way that she explores different people and parts of America, the music moves between genres. There’s the occasional rasping trumpet. Sometimes there’s a simple, classic country feel and Cadiz’s voice has the timeless echoes of Tammy Wynette. But other times it bursts with modern undertones, reaching toward something more thumping and lively like KT Tunstall. Her strong references to Americana roots haven’t appeared so dramatically on the indie scene since Saddle Creek’s days of shelling Bright Eyes or Rilo Kiley releases. Cadiz, however, is perhaps a bit too ambitious. She has wonderful, engaging ideas, but she fails to capture them in their entirety, especially in the music, and she doesn’t completely own them or make them fully hers. But ultimately this is a fun, thoughtful ride.

Listen to “Hometown” below and check out the rest of Deep Below Heaven May 20th!

ALBUM REVIEW: Haley Bonar “Last War”

Last War is immediately, unmistakably different than any record Haley Bonar‘s made before. Her catalogue is impressive: with ten releases in just ten years, and four full-lengths excluding the newest one, Bonar, pronounced bawn-er, has put a solid stake into her style of dark, quiet, vocal-heavy folk music. Her voice is cradle-rocking singalong, and she tends to end verses in extremely sad-sounding sustained notes that back the bleak lyrics of the lines she’s singing. On her sparsest album, 2006’s Lure The Fox, Bonar’s minimalism crosses over into what feels more like a live recording than anything laid down in a studio. String squeaks and between-verse breath exhalations creep onto the tracks; listening to it is like sitting in Bonar’s lap. That kind of microscopic access to Bonar’s vocal acrobatics is a treat, but interior minimalism piled on top of grim lyrics makes for a bit much of a muchness, and sometimes the bleaker extremes of Bonar’s early stuff drag her voice from prettily sorrowful into dour and self-indulgent.

Simply put, Last War is Bonar’s scuzziest record. In the pros column, the greater dose of reverb and percussion here rescues the album from any danger of turning weepy. In fact, she sounds sadder than she does pissed off, especially on early single “No Sensitive Man.” For them that would complain that her most acoustic stuff gets boring, Last War offers a more twisted take on Bonar’s alt-country licks and lullaby lonesomeness. On the other hand, I’m inclined to argue that shaking up the style comes at the expense of her voice, which still paints broad-brush singalong arcs and still hovers in a held note over the emotionally ripe ends of each verse, but is on this album less of a focal point. Bonar’s vocal line gets swept up along with the larger machine of grit and distortion on this album, and that really saps the liveliness that made her folk persona so remarkable in the first place.

Now, that isn’t true from cover to cover. Last week I criticized Bonar’s disparaging vocals on “No Sensitive Man” as bored-sounding: I really struggled with the way she brought lyrical themes of exasperation into her vocal lines, which ultimately weren’t any more likable than the feelings the song describes. But other tracks, like “Bad Reputation,” display a lot more complexity on both lyrical and musical fronts without letting go of Bonar’s large, flexible vocal range. “I got a bad reputation,” she sings on that track, “I probably need medication.” Baldly delivering grim sentiments in a pretty voice, Bonar finally seems to hit the right balance between showcasing her vocals and showing us her teeth.

Still, she’s ultimately a singer best appreciated under a microscope. This album represents several steps in the hookier direction for Bonar, but it’s still not a record that will necessarily grab you if you’re hearing it passively. That’s why I’m puzzled by so much of the noisier parts on this album, which aren’t as rewarding to an intimate listen as Bonar’s voice would be unadorned. She proves on this album that she can turn out a decent rocker, but with a songwriterly vision like the one she showed us on Golder in 2011, or the Sing With Me EP the year before that, why would Bonar want to? Compared to the intricacy of those albums, the reverb-y sections on Last War seem to water down the album more than they enhance it.

Last War comes out May 20th. Preorder here via Graveface. Til then, try “Bad Reputation” on for size! You can also listen to “No Sensitive Man” and spend more time with Haley Bonar on Facebook.

TRACK REVIEW: Amen Dunes “Lonely Richard”

In 2006, during the Northeast’s creepiest and most beautiful time of year–fall–Damon McMahon started recording his tightly knotted, introspective guitar melodies in the Catskills, never intending them for public consumption. Thus Amen Dunes was born, and thus–essentially–it remains: the music is simple, lonesome and woodsy, with a healthy dose of the otherworldly-creepy sensation you get from spending a lot of time alone with the Hudson Valley’s sinisterly beautiful landscape.

“Lonely Richard,” off the forthcoming album Love (out 5/13 on Sacred Bones) illustrates McMahon’s penchant for interiority–his voice, small-sounding and thick with melancholy, takes a back seat to the guitars, which screech and whine and slide all over this track. There’s a folky simplicity at the heart of it, but much more immediate is the drone of the instrumentals–how the guitar lines repeat and loop over themselves, how the strings maintain such a constant pitch that they lose form by the end of the song, assuming an atmospheric presence that evokes wind, or clouds, or something else just as environmental. The track builds low and slow, then fades away just as subtly. It’s sort of an anti-social number, but the simple chord structure underlying it keeps “Lonely Richard” from being unfriendly.

In typical fashion, Amen Dunes have released a single that reveals practically nothing about the album to come–the track wouldn’t be gripping enough to save a lethargic album or to temper an overly sweet one, but by itself, “Lonely Richard” has a deceptively compelling low-grade catchiness that will, if nothing else, awaken your curiosity. Wet your whistle with “Lonely Richard,” via Soundcloud:

FILM REVIEW: Mistaken For Strangers

Save the strawberry blonde hair, the baritone speaking voice, and the obvious affinity towards the arts and everything creative, Matt and Tom Berninger have nothing in common. Matt, who heads one of the most popular and critically acclaimed rock groups of the present, The National, is sarcastic, moody, introspective and intense. Tom, on the other hand, is non-committal, lighthearted and irresponsible. He is the person that we all know, who is clearly very intelligent and capable, yet for one reason or another just can’t get his shit together.

Mistaken For Strangers follows Tom on the road with his big brother Matt and the rest of The National throughout their High Violet tour. Tom, possibly the worst roadie ever, seemingly has nothing serious going on in his life until he receives a call from Matt asking for some help on tour. Tom’s failings as a roadie and general dysfunction were both hilarious and at times frustrating. From forgetting to give the box office the guest list to getting wasted and missing the bus out of New York City (they had to turn around in Beacon, New York to get him) the face-palm moments are endless, and after what seems like a million warnings from the band and management team, Tom is eventually fired.

Tom getting fired from tour is definitely his low point, but it marks the beginning of his creative process as a filmmaker. Throughout the tour Tom had been filming everything from concert footage, to shower scenes (we get to see way more of Bryan Devendorf than we signed up for), to intimate interviews with the band, however none of it seems to make much cohesive sense. After getting fired, Tom returns to Cincinnati with nothing but hours of random and disjointed footage. Tom then interviews his parents, reflects on his childhood and his relationship with his brother, and with some help from momma Berninger, who tells him that he is the most talented out of the Berninger children, he finally starts believing in his talent as an artist.

Slowly something ignites in Tom. He moves to Brooklyn to enlist the guidance of his brother, and begins the tedious process of piecing the footage together. Organizing post-its into categories such as concert footage, funny footage, sentimental footage, interviews, etc, he completely covers the wall of his bedroom. In one of my favorite scenes of the film, Tom tries to explain the method to his madness to a very dumfounded and overwhelmed Matt, and for the first time we really get a sense of Tom’s unique creativity. Slowly all of the footage mapped out on the wall gets pieced together into the movie that we are watching.

The movie ends on a hopeful note. We are unclear as to where exactly the future will take Tom, but we know one thing, throughout the movie we’ve been rooting for him to just to commit to a project enough to make it great, and in that he has had his first creative success.

My favorite aspect of the movie is its sincerity. Because Tom wasn’t going for anything specific when he was filming the band, the footage ended up raw and unmanufactured. Therefore we were able to get a real sense of the dynamics of the band, and the dynamics of the brother/brother relationships (both the good and the bad). We see moments when to be perfectly honest, we hate Matt. He comes off as a pretentious pampered asshole. Then at other moments, we see Tom bring out Matt’s playful side (like when he made him stand in front of a fogged up mirror with nothing but a bathrobe and his trademark red wine to recite “I am not The National, The National is everybody’s now”). In my opinion, the sweetest brotherly moments where when we see Matt get sincerely frustrated and pissed at his brother over his shortcomings and failures. These are the moments when we see just how much Matt cares for Tom.

So what about The National? Well, film title aside The National’s tour is actually a secondary plot in a film that is mostly about self discovery. Tom is our protagonist, and we get to know him intimately. Throughout the film we come to understand his creative process, his strengths and weaknesses, and his vulnerabilities. He is the most relatable character, because we have all been him at one point or another. Okay so maybe we haven’t had brothers who have sold out the Barclays Center, or have been featured in The New York Times, but we have all been in someone’s shadow. The film shows a very inspiring depiction of someone emerging from that shadow and striving for happiness and personal success.

At the end of the film, Matt and Tom Berninger came out for a Q&A with the audience, and pretty much everything was discussed: Tom’s taste in horror movies and metal concerts, Matt on how it feels to give a good/bad live performance, the fact that Matt is always drinking red wine. We learned some things that maybe were best kept unsaid (Matt was a huge fan of Barry Manilow and the Grease soundtrack before his eldest sister brought home The Smiths and The Violent Femmes). One thing however was made astoundingly clear: Tom is EXACTLY like how he was portrayed on film.

Mistaken for Strangers is real, raw and intimate, but most importantly it is creative and original. We all know that Matt is talented, and Mistaken for Strangers gave us an insight into what it is like to be a successful rockstar, but more importantly it is a film about a downtrodden person struggling for personal and career success. Fret not, The National junkies, you will still get your fill of intimate interviews, rare concert footage and cool band anecdotes. This film is a definite must see, so go now!!

LIVE REVIEW: Jenny Lewis @ The Roxy

Much anticipation led up to Jenny Lewis’ May 6th stop at The Roxy. After touring with The Postal Service for most of 2013, Lewis has only granted her fans five solo shows, and Tuesday would mark her first appearance at The Roxy in 2014. Long awaited, and much overdo, she returned with new material to make audiences squeal.

Having fallen hard for Jenny Lewis in my late teens, my first time at The Roxy (or in West Hollywood for that matter) couldn’t have been more filled with excitement, as my adolescent dreams would coming to fruition in an instant. After perusing her setlists from the Bridge School Benefit and much earlier shows, there really was no predicting what Jenny was going to pull out of her hat. All anyone really knew was that she was on at 9:30, and her opener, described as magical, was on at 9:23.

And magical he was! The rather cheeky magician performed a shrinking card act, a self-mending string trick, and ended with a cutout paper snowflake that eventually read The Voyager, the title of Jenny Lewis’ upcoming album. When the magic act ended, the curtain dropped suddenly and the real anxiety began.

If there is anything that is certain about Jenny Lewis fans, it is that their love for her does not stray from the extreme. I found myself gushing with fellow fans moments before the curtain rose, the type of gushing where you are unknowingly blushing and clutching your heart in swoon. When the curtain rose, the crowd erupted and Jenny sat down at the keyboard for the first song. I couldn’t help but notice that the performer had barely aged in the last ten years and is as energetic and on point than ever.

She opened with “Head Under Water,” a solid choice considering that the wonderfully upbeat piano ballad with a kick-drum rhythm got the crowd moving. After her first song she couldn’t help but crack an infectious smile; the crowd went nuts. She remarked how long it had been and then busted out a Rilo Kiley classic, “Silver Lining.” Now, for me, the Rilo Kiley songs hit me hard, and by the gasp of the crowd, I could tell I was not alone. These were the most poignant moments of the night, and they warranted the best sing-alongs.

Lewis’ performance is magnetic; when she stands at the mic with her guitar, her eyes move from person to person, making intimate eye contact with every single fan, even if just for a split second. It is evident that this woman has spent most of her life in the spotlight because she certainly knows how to command the attention.

She prefaced every new song with hints about their themes, at one point divulging that Megadeth frontman, Dave Mustaine, is her spirit animal, confessing that, after all, she and Mustaine have the same hairstyle. Her anecdotes made the new material all the more enjoyable, which could have been difficult for a less gracious artists with such a beloved back catalogue. I’ve been to shows before where the artist plays new material, perhaps too heavy-handedly. There’s a fine line between giving the fans some new material to get excited about and inundating them with material that they’re not yet familiar with. Lewis did a superb job of mixing up her setlist with her classics, from Rilo Kiley and her own solo repertoire, and the new stuff.

To her credit, the highlights of the show were clearly the new material, which is so fresh and reinvigorating that you can almost (almost) forgive Jenny for taking so long to release a new album. As she hasn’t actually set a released a date for The Voyager, fans will have to continue to be patient. Also, she pulled out a very special Rilo Kiley treat when she played “A Man/ Me/ Then Jim.” Her encore was enchanting, as her new band stepped out from behind their instruments to sing backup vocals on “Acid Tongue.” She closed out the show with a new song, which I felt was a very risky move. But, as expected, she nailed it, because “She’s Not Me” is such a rockin’ jam.

From what I can gather about The Voyager, it is going to arguably be her strongest album to date. Acid Tongue saw Jenny Lewis honing in on her sound, and this new material sounds as if Jenny will be reinventing that sound in a very retrospective sort of way. Whatever it ends up being, I’m more than glad that she’s back and will be on the look out for more post-album release tour dates; I will certainly be seeing her again.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

TRACK REVIEW: Julia Holter Remixes Boardwalk

Experimental indie/electronic artist Julia Holter stripped down Boardwalk’s “I’m To Blame” (from the band’s self-titled 2013 LP) and made an unsettling and totally possessing remix. Boardwalk (Mike Edge and Amber Quintero) liked it so much that they decided to make the stems for the track avalaible to the public, encouraging people to remix the song, and even provided a soundcloud group for artists to post their remixes.

Holter’s remix of “I’m To Blame” begins with what sounds like the scraping and rattling of metal objects in apparently no particular pattern or rhythm. Taking the sinister vibes even further, Holter layers the metallic racket with a chilling humming, the kind of humming that you would hear from a demon child in a horror movie right before it kills its next victim. The creepy humming is eventually replaced by ethereal singing that elevates and withers away sporadically as new vocal elements are subtly introduced. Next comes a chordant piano and subsequent meandering bass section, making the track (only slightly) more melodic. These parts dissipate while the scraping and rattling persist. Finally the vocals enter. Doesn’t matter how we’re trying, we can’t get it right. You and I are not the same and I think I’m to blame. I think I’m to blame. This sets up the organ section to coax out a melody that is finally comparable to that of the original for the musical climax of the song we’ve been waiting for. But it’s taken away just as quickly, the track pulling back and slowly fading away into silence.

Offbeat percussion and dissonant, non-musical sounds have a way of instilling unease, but somehow the anxiety inherent in Holter’s mix of “I’m To Blame” is what keeps the listener alert rather than passive, making the occasional melodic moments more satisfying and the song more interesting throughout. While the original is more melodic and thus easier to listen to, Holter’s version is actually more captivating, maybe even moreso for ignoring most aesthetic characteristics of Western composition. It’s a perfect example of how technology opens up possibilities for collaboration, a sentiment reiterated by the band’s invitation for more remixes.

Listen to original side-by-side with Julia Holter’s remix below; maybe it will inspire you to make your own.