When you get in the habit of going to several live shows in a month’s time, you strive for diversified vocabulary to describe similar situations. Sometimes these words are jargon-laden; other times they brazenly indicate the current climate in pop-culture (i.e, chillwave). And yet some bands are so surprising that they conjure up a more sacred vernacular, in this case, that of Dadisms. Syd Arthur has resurrected them from the depths of my memory. When I saw the band perform last Tuesday at the Rockwood Music Hall, words like, tight, jam, groove, and Steely Dan formed in my mind almost instantly.
Syd Arthur, so named as a hybrid reference to Pink Floyd’s Syd Barrett and The Kinks’ 1969 Album Arthur, hail from Canterbury, which has a heavily rooted grasp on 60s and 70s folk. The band is composed of four insanely talented gentlemen, who look like the paisley-bathed posse of Jimi Hendrix. They are Liam Magill on lead vocals and guitar, Fred Rother on drums, Joel Magill on bass, and Raven Bush on violin and keyboards. Bush seemed to be at the musical core of the band’s performance, switching instruments throughout the show and even producing live. However his musical abilities are no surprise, considering his bloodline: his aunt is none other than Kate Bush.
Though pitched as a psych rock group, Syd Arthur delves far deeper into the complex realms of prog rock and contemporary jazz. Then again they don’t fall directly in the lap of either genre, seeing as progressive rock could easily be classified as amped up jazz musicians all soloing at once, and there wasn’t that magnitude of ego in their performance. In fact, these gentlemen were refreshingly humble despite their musical talents. Their dexterity on stage is enviable, causing them to sound far crisper and more alive than on their recordings. They played so tight. Tighter than any band I’ve seen in a long time. Where some bands may flaunt their focus, these were just four men concentrating intently on their performance…jamming if you will.
They were certainly drawing references from Genesis, Jethro Tull, and a band I haven’t heard musically referenced in a long time: Steely Dan. Syd Arthur’s keyboard hooks and wandering bass lines immediately call to mind the musical stylings of Walter Becker and Donald Fagen. Their tasteful and understated drum beats coincided with this reference as well.
Liam Magill’s stage presence was more fixated than extravagant despite his rakish prince-charming appearance, but the quality of his voice negates the need for such extravagances. His register is on the higher side, and is as crisp as it is powerful. I couldn’t quite put my finger on who he sounded like-maybe a more boisterous Marc Bolan with less vibrato.
Syd Arthur may be dangling from the beads of a bygone era, in fact, it might even be a beaded curtain, but that doesn’t diminish their talent as a group. After all, it’s always comforting to see a true band. One with beautiful, well-played instruments like the Magills’ tobacco hued Fender Jazz Bass and Stratocaster. Even more, these types of groups are best in a proper setting, and Rockwood Music Hall certainly served Syd Arthur. Set up more as a listening room than a rowdy venue, the sound was sharp and clear. All in all, I have not one bad thing to say about this performance. If you get a chance, check these boys out in the flesh. If not, listen to them groove below:
Avey Tare’s Slasher Flicks’ newest video for “Strange Colores” is a creepy, kaleidoscopic mini film befitting the band’s name. The trio, made up of Animal Collective’s Avey Tare, The Dirty Projectors’ Angel Deradoorian and Ponytail’s Jeremy Hyman, are releasing their debut album, Enter the Slasher House, on April 8 via Domino Records.
The video, directed by Olivia Wyatt, has a low-budget feel and primarily involves epileptic cutting between quick shots of lights and various colors. We catch fleeting glimpses of the three band members decked in Halloween-style plastic masks, performing against a colorful skull display. It’s like a trippy, Dia de los Muertos-themed haunted house. The whole thing is a perfect match for the slightly schizophrenic and lo-fi tune. Watch it below!
Cerebral Ballzy encompasses all that is freeing about punk. This throwback Brooklyn band is keeping the fires of old alive in the hardcore music scene. From their riffs to their sweat-dripping performances to the crudely carved lettering on their album cover, they scream grime and rough force. “Better in Leather”, from their forthcoming album Jaded & Faded, was Zane Lowe’s ‘Hottest Record in the World’ on BBC1 Radio. The newly released “Speed Wobbles,” is the B-side to “Better in Leather” and it’s a short, thrilling ride.
This minute-long track goes from beginning to end with a super fast-paced rhythm that jars you into action (or, at least, wanting to move). The guttural, croaking voice is harsh, but really makes you want to sing along however the only really intelligible words are, unsurprisingly, “Speed wobbles” shouted just before the song ends. The guitar and bass here are quick enough to come close to metal, but Ballzy stays dirty enough to instead ride off into a meeting between hardcore and punk.
The best thing about music like this, for me, is how cathartic is is. Not lyrically, as some other music might be, but in the mood: It’s jut-your-chin-out angry, it’s plain old fuel for the fire. And letting go of that fire is such a release. Somehow this track manages emotional and fun at simultaneously, and its brevity is what keeps it level. There’s a release, but it doesn’t go on to the point of rage or anxiety. It’s short, sweet, and during shows there’s time between songs to prepare yourself for the next bout of action.
As if Manchester didn’t have enough notches in its belt, yet another artist has crowned from the birthplace of The Smiths, The Stone Roses, and The Buzzcocks. Ryan Hunn, better known as Illum Sphere, has been making a name for himself within the electronic world since 2008 when he formed the Manchester club night Hoya:Hoya, hosting the likes of Four Tet, Kuedo, and Ikonika.
Though Hunn has churned out an impressive slew of EPs since 2009, this year brings us his first full-length LP, Ghosts of Then and Now. The record has been released by independent London label Ninja Tune. One of the more talked-about tracks on the album is a collaboration between Illum Sphere and Shadowbox entitled “Embryonic.” However, Hunn chose to release the Lone remix of the song instead of the album version. The Nottingham native Lone, formerly of Kids in Tracksuits, renders a beautifully atmospheric version of the song.
“Embryonic” is slow at the start; single notes melt into each other with a heavy dose of reverb. There is a somber and slightly new age accent to the song as ethereal female vocals merge with the keys. These choral harmonies bring to mind the Celtic eeriness of Cocteau Twins. At first “Embryonic” connotes an artificial ocean, one that could be summoned to the ear through a digital conch shell. Nods at corporate muzak, much like the ones that shaped the internet micro-genre vaporwave, linger around the synth-dipped, retro-futuristic soundscape.
After it’s initial lull, the track picks up in tempo with curt snare beats and twinkling xylophone melodies that add to its oceanic ambience. Early Moby comes to mind, especially considering the song’s specificity to proper setting. Though it’s rhythm becomes more awake, this is far from a dance song. The track suggests motion, but a more repetitive and subdued kind. It would better suit a late night drive than a DJ set.
Last weekend I got to see Suuns at Death By Audio, along with three local gems, Azar Swan, Bennio Qwerty and FLAG. Unsurprisingly, the night was filled with heavy basslines, intense vocals, and an indescribable energy that extended to all of the genre transcending acts of the night.
Ben Shemie (vocals/guitar), Joe Yarmush (guitar/bass), Liam O’Neill (drums) and Max Henry (bass/keyboard) make up the Montreal-based progressive rock band Suuns, who introduced the world to their industrial, progressive, experimental rock sounds with their debut album, Zeroes (2010). With the release of their sophomore album, Images Du Futur in 2013, Suuns solidified the sounds that they began to develop on Zeroes while at the same time pushing their compositional capabilities to the next level.
Images Du Futur has been both hailed and criticized for being more organized, refined and compositional than Zeroes. The music may be slightly more accessible and compositional, yet it still favors chaos over order, discordance over melody, and haphazardness over caution. Shemie’s vocals are as just as mumbling and incoherent as ever, feedback and effects still feature prominently, and the backbeats still blend and interact perfectly with Yarmush’s guitar to command the attention of anyone listening.
I must say that Suuns is one of those bands that sounds 100 times better live than in the recording studio. This may have something to do with their enthusiastic followers, who packed into the tiny space of South Williamsburg’s Death By Audio, but probably has more to do with the band’s persona. From the lackadaisical vocals to the persisting, beats, Suuns somehow straddle the space between obsessive intensity and just not giving a fuck. This sentiment was somehow extended to the crowd, which by the end of the night had increased exponentially in volume, but decreased exponentially in sobriety. While the music pulsating out of the speakers was turned up to an impossibly loud volume, Shernie, Yarmush, O’Neill and Henry maintained their cool, playing their instruments as casually as they would brush their teeth, or cook an omelette. This all culminated in a type of intensely fervent energy, a quality that has unfortunately become increasingly rare for many live performances.
Rolling through a number of songs off of Images du Futur and a handful off of Zeroes, the Montreal-based quartet laced their show with their signature grating guitar riffs, unrelenting beats and unsettling vocal effects. The spaces in between the songs were just as important as the songs themselves were as one morphed into the other. Sometimes this would happen seamlessly, however often the band would navigate their way into a new song through rambling beats, feedback and discordant melodies. From their first note to their last, there wasn’t a single moment of silence throughout the performance.
Industrial electro pop duo, Azar Swan consists of Zohra Atash (vocals/lyrics) and Joshua Strawn (production/percussion). With heavy, dark beats and moody vocals, the Brooklyn based project isn’t exactly light music. Their debut album, Dance Before The War, consists of textured vocals, a-typical instrumentation,compact arrangements, and a general doomy and gloomy vibe that permeates the entire album.
Joshua Strawn entered the stage decked out in all black. Zohra Atash was also in black, save the red polish and blond streak in her hair. Together they stormed the stage, turning up the intensity in the room with Strawn’s unrelenting percussion and Atash’s piercing, theatrical, almost operatic pop/goth vocals. Azar Swan had almost as many fans come out as Suuns did, which was made apparent when most of the audience sang along during their most well-known track, “Lusty.”
local favorite Bennio Qwerty consists of Mike Barron, Nathan Delffs and Louie Glaser. Bennio Qwerty has been releasing music for about a year now, mainly punk melodies and arrangements with late ’90s/early ‘00s post grunge alt rock guitar riffs. Although most of the crowd was new to Bennio Qwerty’s music, the band maintained the crowd’s interest with catchy, upbeat melodies.
Who needs a band when you can do everything yourself?- is probably the mantra of the one man band, FLAG, who needed nothing more than his guitar, his voice, and a music sampler. The first of the night to perform, FLAG set up and performed in the space between the crowd and the stage for a select group of early birds.
While the evening’s various performances drew from a wide range of genres, heavy basslines ran throughout all of the acts involved. The night was subsequently eventful and energizing, to say the least.
Jarrah McCleary, the classically trained pianist and experimental synth pop artist behind Sydney-based Panama, may be Australian on paper, but the title track opener to Panama’s sophomore EP Always tells a different story: he’s clearly got L.A. in his soul. Singalong-worthy and summery, “Always” starts the release off with piano-heavy pop that doesn’t overthink itself. That’s not a bad thing–the music perfectly evokes blissful hot summer car rides and uncomplicated friendships. Over the course of just three tracks (plus bonus “Strange Feeling,” on the version released on AudioFemme’s side of the pond!)–and corresponding remixes–though, Always moves inward, with the more introspective “How We Feel” and downright dark “Destroyer.” I’ve never been to Australia, but by the EP’s end, Always seems more reminiscent of the sparse but beautiful bush country where McCleary grew up.
“When I write I think about the long road ahead,” McCleary told Vice in an interview in late 2012. You can hear the nomadic leanings in his music, too: it’s not the lightness of “Always” that’s endemic to Panama’s music. McCleary’s songwriting style reflects the process of travel, and of a full absorption of the environment he finds wherever he goes. That approach makes for meticulous music–McCleary’s as much an observer as he is a musician. The attention to detail that goes into this album lends itself to shorter releases, too, which is why it makes sense that Panama has yet to release a full-length LP.
Like debut It’s Not Over, Always gears towards an electrically colorful synth pop, but on this release McCleary assumes a new assuredness over his music’s texture and subtlety. To that end, I could have done without the remixes–I would have preferred more original tracks on the back half of this thing. Whereas the remixes make up a recalibrating of an already complex balance of instrumentation and evocation, I would have rather seen McCleary take his travels further, and have more revelations like the external-to-internal move that happens in the short space between the blissfulness of “Always” and the lonesomeness of “Destroyer.”
Still a bit SXSW-weary, I ventured out to Baby’s All Right for Bella Union’s stacked showcase this past Wednesday, a chilly Brooklyn rain washing some of the Austin dust from my boots. At first glance, the artists on the bill seemed pretty disparate, but then again, that’s really the beauty of Bella Union’s curatorial scope. Though not sonically cohesive, something gelled as I watched sets from Pins, Ballet School, Mt. Royal, and headliner Marissa Nadler, and remembered how Bella Union was born – as a way for Cocteau Twins to release their own material. When the enigmatic Scottish group disbanded, Simon Raymonde kept the label afloat, signing Dirty Three and other genre-defying bands of high artistic caliber. And given that history, it’s no wonder that Raymonde is so acutely tuned to picking out female vocalists with innovative approaches, much like his former bandmate, the incomparable Liz Fraser. Wednesday night’s line-up shone a spotlight on some newer additions to Bella Union’s stellar roster who follow Fraser’s tradition of fearlessly pushing female vocals to new, experimental heights.
Manchester-based quartet Pins started the whole thing off. They showed no fatigue despite the fact that it was the group’s third show in a string of NYC appearances, also coming on the heels of SXSW, where I caught them at Music For Listeners’ day party. These ladies play searing garage rock with dire lyrics, but their penchant for the dramatic narratives belies a decidedly fuzzy approach. They are a bit reminiscent of early Dum Dum Girls and in fact are scheduled to play shows with Crocodiles upon their return to the UK, so Dee Dee should probably watch her throne. Frontwoman Faith Holgate sings in a troubled, deep-throated wail, occasionally interjected with spritely yelps. Lois MacDonald’s back-up howls and distorted guitars lend elements of shoegaze to the froth, while plodding bass from Anna Donagan and Sophie Galpin’s crashing drums allow post-punk to creep in. Though Bella Union released their debut record Girls Like Us late last year, the gals also run an impeccably curated cassette label of their own called Haus of Pins, no doubt part of the reason Raymonde was so impressed by the British babes.
It was the first NYC show for Berlin-based Ballet School, who played next. Of the four acts playing that night, Ballet School bore the closest resemblance to Cocteau Twins, but have updated that sound just enough to elevate it far above retread. The trio look more metal than they sound, leaning toward shoegaze-tinged new wave pop more than anything else. Irish chanteuse Rosie Blair has an almost operatic range, her voice trilling gorgeously over extended notes, taking on some of the abstract qualities for which Fraser was renowned. The vibrations settle easily against the electronic loops and guitar manipulations that Michel Collet provides, his silky black mane falling over his face while Louis McGuire lays down R&B-inspired beats, often opting for a drum machine over pieces of his kit. Blair’s stage persona is that of tortured wraith or sea-nymph, her pale skin framed by long, white-blonde hair, both set against dark garb which flared dramatically as the singer contorted her otherworldly frame. Audiences at SXSW were awed by Ballet School’s performances; suffice to say this emerging band could be the next huge thing for Bella Union, who’ve already put out one EP (entitled Boys Again) for the newcomers.
Mt. Royal was, for me, the true standout of the evening. They’d already made the trek from Baltimore to Brooklyn for a few scattered shows, but this was my first opportunity to catch one of the band’s gigs. Lead singer Katrina Ford is best known for her work in Celebration, and as with friends Future Islands and Wye Oak, has always had a reputation for putting on a phenomenal live performance. Not only did Mt. Royal meet all those expectations, it destroyed them; Ford is an engaging performer who gave a powerhouse vocal performance, ululating between sensuous low registers and lilting peaks. Her movements gave the impression of wrenching that sound from a deep emotional core, and her bandmates built anthemic paeans around it. Their ferocious energy spread like wildfire around the room, with most of the crowd shimmying as enthusiastically as Ford herself. The band hopes to put out a full-length in the fall to follow up their excellent six-song self-titled EP.
It was a bit of a shame though, for Marissa Nadler, who had no choice but to take it down several notches in the now very noisy bar. To her credit, she took it in stride and sounded perfectly ethereal despite having a bit of a sore throat. Her elegant, moving record July is the fifth studio album the singer has released but a debut on Bella Union, who handles it in the UK while Sacred Bones oversees its US promotion. Nadler mainly stuck to material from her latest, backed by cellist Janel Leppin, who added some beautiful atmospherics with reverbed strings. The less-than-attentive folks in the audience missed out on Nadler’s inspiring versatility – her resolute delivery of the very personal narratives that comprise July was both unflinching and delicately nuanced, indicative of the relentless touring she’s done over the last ten years of her career. To those that were listening raptly, she had a special treat: closing the set with “Fifty Five Falls” from her first record, Ballads of Living and Dying. It showed how far she’s come as a songwriter and performer, that there’s far more to her than the wispy caricature so often drawn due to her folksy roots. As dreamy as her music can sound, it’s never timid, particularly on this last LP. And it’s that quality that allows her to make a home on a label alongside bands like Pins and Ballet School and Mt. Royal, even if on paper it seems like a bit of a puzzle.
The common thread of the evening, then, was certainly commanding performances from charismatic women. As Bella Union expands into the States, we can count on them to reliably unearth the most compelling voices in the industry, without rigid preoccupations as to what genre fits or doesn’t fit. It’s endlessly encouraging to see a label truly invested in such an admirable endeavor.
Performances by Australian group Falls revolve around the vocal magic trick that happens when Simon Rudston-Brown and Melinda Kirwin harmonize. Lightly highlighted with a string section, Rudston-Brown’s guitar and the occasional melodica solo from Kirwin, Falls create a lush and mysteriously reassuring soundtrack to the development–and breakdown–of their relationship. The two were once a couple, and, when they began playing music, found that writing songs together was a natural extension of their extra-musical connection. Just before recording their debut EP Hollywood, though, the pair fought, made up, and then broke up for good, continuing to play and write together all the while.
Most of the audience gathered to hear Falls open for Delta Rae at the Bowery Ballroom last week seemed to know the story–judging by how they were able to sing along to the words as the pair performed, Falls has already accumulated a fair following since releasing their EP as Hollywood in Australia last year, and as Into The Fire in the U.S. this month–but even if no one had known Kirwin and Rudston-Brown’s backstory, their on-stage rapport would have been obvious. The duo were visually almost opposites–Kirwin stood front and center a little shakily, thin and bird-like in a white dress that hung down her forearms as she gripped the microphone stand. She handled most of the between-song banter–peering smilingly at the crowd from behind a thick set of dark bangs–while Rudston-Brown stood beside her with his guitar. He was a sharp, kind of rugged dresser with a shiny black belt buckle and a brown vest, like a particularly dapper cowboy.
The string section seated behind the duo neatly held down their parts so precisely they seemed polite. The orchestration sounded classical and complexly put together, supplying an emotional surge for each chorus that was well-timed and pretty, if occasionally a little saccharine. The already-sentimental lyrics were better bolstered by the sparse instrumentation of Rudston-Brown’s guitar, and on the songs performed without the strings–most of them in the first half of the group’s set–the pared-down, acoustic feel of the performance actually heightened the emotion, which was palpable from the duo’s vocal harmony alone.
“Girl That I Love” was a special highlight of the performance, coming about halfway through the set. Rudston-Brown and Kirwin have said it’s still a tough one to perform. “There’s the girl that I love,” Rudston-Brown sing-songed through the opening bars, “There’s the girl that makes me mad as hell.” It was a large-scale, complicated performance that expanded and ebbed in mood, alternating between mournful verses and the tidal, instrument-heavy refrain.
But even through their darker material, Kirwin and Rudston-Brown were all smiles on stage. Their career, while already established in Australia, is still shaping in the U.S., and they were visibly thrilled to be touring. They whipped through their mature, expansive set list with the skill of a much more established band, holding attention with their music’s quietly powerful presence.
As if you needed another reason to be excited about Record Store Day (which is NEARLY UPON US, coming up April 19th!), Austin psych trip The Black Angelshave announced that their 10″ clear vinyl Clear Lake ForestEP will drop the same day. It’ll be the third in a rapid-fire round of releases since 2010 for this foursome, and if new single “Diamond Eyes” is any indication, it’ll be more of the heavy-rocking, straightforward psychedelia that the group’s been putting out for years.
The Black Angels released at least one bona fide rocker in 2013 with “Don’t Play With Guns,” off Indigo Meadow, which came out that spring. This group doesn’t favor long jams–their style of psych is no-nonsense and utterly, miraculously free of stoned musings and distortion-packed trips to nowhere. The songs are direct descendants of The Velvet Underground’s, and the group even took their name from a Velvet track, “The Black Angel’s Death Song.” It’s psych music with a steady rock and roll heartbeat.
The instrumentals on “Diamond Eyes” are a sludgy mess, but it’s clearly an organized chaos. Alex Maas’ vocals glide over the track in smooth, practiced slides, reality sliding in and out of focus. Still, The Black Angels are too catchy for “Diamond Eyes” to be a demanding listen. The group’s expertise as perpetrators of this particular style allows you to relax into the music, because even at their most tangential, The Black Angels clearly know how to write a rock song.
The Black Angels will be playing Austin Psych Fest, which they also curate, in very early May. But before you buy your plane tickets to Texas, make sure to pick up a copy of Clear Lake Forest on vinyl April 19th. Listen to “Diamond Eyes” below:
We often hear about SXSW from the perspective of music journalists, but the yearly music extravaganza wouldn’t happen if it weren’t for the bands that relentlessly play show after show, often in the midst of a longer tour. We took to the Instagram accounts of some of our favorite musicians to get a glimpse of what SXSW is really like for the musicians that truly make the whole thing come together. The captions are their own.
“@todd_znootz is about to play out of this robot in 30 minutes. Palm Door. 508 E 6th Street”
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“BOOM”
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“Our guy”
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“Day off. #casualswimwear”
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“Reigning Sound looks confused”
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“Us little guys got to stick together”
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“Thanks to everyone at #sxsw Had a blast! Playing Houston tonight at Mango’s with Har Mar Superstar. Free show! Let’s keep this party going. Thanks to @hernameisali for coming up front and grabbing this pic”
We caught up with one of Houston’s hardest working bands, The Tontons, who played a slew of shows at this year’s SXSW and will follow-up with a mini-tour of the Southwest, including some one-off festival dates in France and at Firefly. They’re out in support of excellently eclectic new record Make Out King and Other Stories of Love, which they released in February (stream it at the bottom of this post). The band’s charismatic front-woman, Asli Omar, sheds some light on the true stories that inspired the songs, and what it’s like to tour with a bunch of boys.
Audiofemme: Tell us about the music scene in Houston and how it’s influenced the band.
Asli Omar: The Houston music scene can be great because it’s so diverse. There was never a crazy indie scene until now though. Which could be good and bad. On the one hand, it forces you to think outside the box when it comes to the shows you put together. So you wind up playing really diverse shows. In one show, you can have a rap artist, a string quartet and a band like us. You’re drawing from all of these really amazing different styles of music and no one is telling what you should or shouldn’t sound like. It allows for a kind of creative freedom that I don’t think you’ll find in other major cities. On the other hand, there can be virtually no support system, so if you’re not outgoing and humble and willing to work four times as hard as most other bands, it’s easy to get left behind.
AF: How did the four of you meet?
AO: The story of how we met is pretty average. We were all in high school bands that kind of fell apart at the same time. We had known each other for a bit just by being in the scene. So we decided to form a new band around 2007, but didn’t really do anything with it till 2010 or so. Our drummer and the guitarist are brothers.
AF: Your latest record is called Make Out King and Other Stories of Love. How does the title reflect the material on the album?
AO: Most of the inspirations for the songs on this album came from romantic experiences that I have had over the course of two years. As a band, we have been having kind of our first taste of success and that lends itself to a lot of interesting experiences with people. You’re kind of put into situations where you’re having these intense moments and so are the people around you and at the same time some of the people who have been in your life are trying to get acclimated to your new schedule. I think especially as a woman in her early twenties, a lot of the things you might expect from your life as far as relationships are concernered, platonic or otherwise, are completely impossible when you’re in a band. A lot of this album is about coming to terms with that fact.
AF: Was there any reason for the five-year break between your debut album and Make Out King? What was beneficial about taking some time to write and record new stuff?
AO: We released and EP called Golden in October 2011 and a seven inch on vinyl called “Bones” in February 2013. I think the main reason it took us so long to release another full length is that we we’re so busy. I actually lived in New York for two of the five years and for almost two of the years we were non-stop touring. It all kind of came down to a matter of timing.
AF: Do you have any embarrassing make-out stories?
AO: The ‘Make Out King’ himself was an embarrassing make-out story. The title actually stems from an inside joke the band has about this guy I kissed once or twice. When you’re the only girl in a band full of guys, every make-out story can be twisted into something embarrassing. There are definitely a few that I wish I could take back.
AF: You’ve got a reputation as a great live band. Do you have any tricks for connecting with your audience?
AO: Just love what you do. I think people respect honesty. If you’re honest with yourself, you can be honest with the audience. And being confident can help a whole lot too.
AF: What are your touring staples while on the road?
If anyone can adapt the freedom and spontaneity of Stravinsky’s music it’s The Bad Plus. This New York-based avant-garde jazz trio is known for taking songs – often pop songs, even – and breaking them out of their mold. Bassist Reid Anderson, pianist Ethan Iverson, and drummer David King handle rhythm and experimentation masterfully. They’ve performed The Rite of Spring at Duke University and toured the United States, Ireland, Israel, Canada, and Norway. This incredibly focused album marks their ninth studio recording. I’m a big fan of the Bad Plus and this may be one of the best things I’ve ever heard from them. It’s certainly the most engaging, just in terms of the evident dedication and focus to a concept and theme. The music explores spring on Earth, in all of its wonder and terror. It paints a vivid portrait of nature, including humanity, in a kind of mystical way.
The album is split into two parts: “Adoration of the Earth” and “Sacrifice”. The “Adoration” songs are more elemental and natural, while the “Sacrifice” songs seem to introduce people into the world Stravinsky (and the Bad Plus) have created.
“Adoration” opens with a beautiful track that feels like water, like drowning. It has a certain ambience and piano tapping that is a Bad Plus staple. The opening solo is built on a higher melody tempered by low, almost ominous notes. There’s so much movement the music appears to be jumping, very fleeting, in front of the listener. In the middle of the song there are some sudden breaths, a gasping which heightens the sense of panic and foreshadows the introduction of a more human element. There’s a sense of chaos and disaster, but also incredible beauty in its final soothing moments, like water dancing.
The second track in this section, “The Augurs of Spring” is more heavy, with a pounding drum and piano sound, but never harsh. As the title implies some story of spring is evident here. When the bass comes in, it provides some comfort against the dissonance of the drums and piano. The melody is constantly on the move, again, and it’s hard to pin it down except in certain sections, but it’s propelling, hard to escape. This song also has a sense of breathlessness, but feels more like the flora, the flowers and trees, than the water. With so much of Bad Plus’ material, the epic combination of music and story can verge on overwhelming. Moving and imaginative, it is ideally listened to while alone and in a comfortable space.
There are flowers dancing haphazardly in the wind in “Ritual of Abduction”. The rhythm is addictive for this short piece, the piano and drums coming together towards the end with so much atmosphere – quick jumps from high to low, slamming on the cymbals. The final song in this section “The Sage/Dance of the Earth” is a soft transition song. The listener will hear it move into a more jazzy space, something you can tap your fingers to. In most jazz the drums and the bass have a way of really listening to and working with each other. Here , the dynamics hinge on that interconnectedness; sometimes the bass follows the piano, sometimes the drums, and all of the instruments are used beyond their typical roles – bass can be melodic, piano rhythmic, and so on. It’s refreshing and lively.
“Sacrifice” continues in a slower, but not softer direction. Its songs take on a magical tone, beginning to feel like something you might hear at a Druidic celebration or Pagan ritual, and titles like “Mystic Circle of the Young Girls” notable for its pulsating bass melody and cyclical, repetitive qualities. Overall the second part is more dramatic and performative than “Adoration” with stronger bass to guide the listener through dramatic piano. The drums grow softer, at least in the first few songs, appearing simply as sweeping brushes.
I like the directness of the song titles in “The Sacrifice”. The final song “Sacrificial Dance” is immediately recognizable as a dance, the way “Dance of the Earth” was, though it may not have you shaking your hips in the expected manner. The rhythm is heavy and once again I imagine plants, people, the air dancing in a circle which continues the ritualistic aspect. As the listener we don’t really know what we’re sacrificing, just that we’re a part of it. This “unknown” is thrilling. The drums are also fantastic and engaging in this piece, though each instrument seems to have its own stand-out song.
The Bad Plus have really created something freeing and immersive with this adaptation. Listen to them perform The Rite of Spring below:
“As I’m playing, these images are telling this entire amazing story of creation, and travel, and how the guitar perceives itself, and all of this will happen as I’m playing live”
We often personifyobjects that are important to us. People name their cars, feel personal attachments to their childhood stuffed animals, or share deep secrets with their diaries. So even if Kaki King’s relationship with her custom-made Adamas guitar may sound a bit quirky, it is 100% understandable. We have all felt obsession and dependence on the inanimate, a feeling that increasing acutely when that object is the medium of our artistic expression. King has been playing her unique guitar stylings for some thirty years now, and as with any long-term love, there have been ups and downs. “At this point I’m just a student,” she says. “What I love about the guitar and music is that there will always be more to learn. I always hated the term ‘Guitar Goddess’ because of how utterly obnoxious it sounds. Now I just ignore everything that anyone has to say about my playing. I’m the only one who knows how much more I hope to accomplish.”
King’s unique and finessed guitar technique centers heavily around percussive finger picking and percussion, shifting from foreceful slaps to graceful, lightning-fast plucking, typically utilizing unorthodox tunings and complex rhythms. She plays with painstaking precision, speed and care. But King is just as interested in exploring the ideas behind the intrument’s very existence as she is in manipulating the sounds that come from it, and that is how her latest project, The Neck Is A Bridge To The Body, formed. Funded via a Kickstarter campaign, The Neck Is A Bridge To The Body is a collaboration with Glowing Pictures. Together, they created a one-hour multimedia audio/visual instrumental performance that centers around King’s guitar rather than King herself. In order to remove emphasis from herself, King used the white guitar as a projection screen, with images and lights projected onto the guitar as well as the large screen in the background. “I knew I wanted to develop a lighting design for my solo show so I started looking at all kinds of options. I learned that projection mapping could be done on a small scale, so I started to think about set pieces I could bring with me to project on. Once I realized that I could project onto the guitar itself the ideas really started to flow–that was the key element.”
King had reached out to several video production houses, but Glowing Pictures came back with the most interest. “I liked their aesthetic and their enthusiasm about trying something completely new like this,” King says. “I approached them with a very basic idea: let’s do some projection mapping while I play guitar. I had nothing else at the time, and I didn’t even know that I could project directly onto the guitar itself. The songs and the script came out of months of conversations that followed.”
For the project to become what it would be, however, King needed a boost, so she turned to her fans. “When we finally settled on a design and script for the show I realized that it was going to be way beyond my means to produce by myself. Video and animation can be extremely expensive to create, so I turned to crowdfunding. I looked at it basically as an open, fair marketplace, and I am so grateful to everyone who helped me go way beyond the goal. Every cent has been put into the show and it made a tremendous difference.”
As it turns out, the she had quite a hand in the production. “I wrote the script for the show–the outline and concept for the lighting elements that accompany each song. I wrote, directed, and produced several short pieces of film that are part of the show.” The Neck Is A Bridge To The Body straddled the line between reality and surrealism. One of my favorite pieces demonstrated the subtle and the obvious beauty of New York City through a series of images that were projected on the background screen in one angle and on the guitar in another angle. These images were as recognizable as Time Square, Chinatown, the Brooklyn Bridge, and they were as random as a shot of the J train, a Caribbean restaurant storefront, or a gas station. “At one point,” King recalls, “I was driving around NYC with my co-director, Meg Scaff, who was hanging out of my sun roof getting all kinds of shots.” For a more abstract part of the show, in which flowing puddles of pastel colored goop flowed and bounced rhythmically, King had to play Mad Scientist. “I discovered what oobleck was and destroyed my kitchen mixing it with food coloring and filming it on a speaker cone. I definitely developed a lot of different skills to bring this thing together.”
The best aspect of the performance was that it was unassuming and humble. The main focus of the show was to use various forms of media to tell a story. This did not always require the most technically aggressive guitar styling that we all know Kaki King is capable of. Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of her signature fingerstyle, but King knew when to hold back and when to let it go.
There were tongue-in-cheek elements, too. About halfway through the performance, Kaki’s guitar “spoke” to the audience. An AIM-formatted text bubble appeared on both the guitar and the background screen, introducing itself. “Hi guys, I’m Kaki’s guitar. Are you enjoying the show?” After murmurs of approval, the guitar told the story about fitting in versus feeling different. In Williamsburg grocery store, the guitar was encountered a gang of “cool guitars” while minding its own business, picking up some eggs. The cool guitars made fun of Kaki’s guitar for looking weird and having an odd tuning, and told the poor thing to go and play some of that “crappy new age music.” After getting its eggs smashed, King’s guitar returns to a family that doesn’t understand why the instrument can’t look and sound like all the other guitars. It finds solace alone in its room, listening to a Chet Atkins finger-picking record, realizing that it is important to play the type of music that you want to play no-matter what anyone says.
The Neck Is A Bridge To The Body succeeded in utilizing various forms of media to bring attention to the beauty of the guitar. From the beginning of the night, when Kaki King entered the stage dressed in white from head to toe (she even wore thick white sunglasses), to the end of the night when the lights came on and Kaki addressed the audience directly for the first time, I was intellectually, emotionally and creatively stimulated, but most importantly, entertained. It is one thing to be good at your craft, but it is something completely different to be so be so intimately in touch with the beauty of that craft in the way that Kaki King is.
“Collaborations and creating complementary music is so much easier than making music in a vacuum,” she says of the finished piece. “If you have a vision or an emotional tone for something then you limit your musical options, so it’s usually easy for your gut to settle on something that will help build on whatever base is already there, be it a film or someone’s album. It was easier to compose for The Neck for those reasons, as well as the fact that I had a script I had written in advance with individual vignettes that drew the narrative along.”
Kaki King will take the material on a national tour and it will see an album or DVD release in the coming months as well. She’ll be touring with the fantastic string quartet, ETHEL, who makes another appearance on The Neck soundtrack. She’s also premiering a piece for the ensemble Alarm Will Sound at Carnegie Hall in April and building out a new studio. “And my wife is due to have our baby in August,” she adds. “It’s going to be a very busy year.”
Another year of South by Southwest has come and gone. It was a landmark year for us at AudioFemme, as we hosted our first ever SXSW showcases. It was certainly a learning experience, to say the least. Just as we have in years past, we met a wide array of musicians, promoters, industry folks, and music fans from around the world, an experience as enriching as ever. But networking and seeing as many bands as one can in five days aren’t the only things that go into the SXSW experience. At its heart is one weird little city redefining the festival experience. Here’s a rundown of our best moments from Austin, TX.
Most Memorable Performances:
Traams
The sun doesn’t shine in the UK the way it does in Austin, and the visible sunburn on these three lads made me feel an empathetic sting. I caught the post-punk trio at El Sapo, a newly-opened hamburguesa joint on Manor Road, hosting showcases curated by Austin local radio station Music For Listeners. The showcase included performances from Dublin-based noise pop quartet September Girls, Manchester rockers Pins, and Mississippi psych-pop outfit Dead Gaze, all of whom were arresting. But there was something especially captivating about the sparks flying during Traams’ frenzied performance, with frontman Stu channeling Alec Ounsworth’s frantic wail. The boys worked up a real sweat blasting everyone with pummeling pop.
Future Islands
The Baltimore synth punk outfit has long had a reputation as a hardworking and talented live band who’ve released some great albums over the last seven years. Singles is out March 25th on 4AD and the band took to SXSW for their first time ever to showcase the material, resulting in heaps of long-deserved attention. I caught their triumphant final performance of eight at Impose’s free Longbranch Inn party, and the vibes were stellar. Lead singer Samuel T. Herring was absolutely brimming with joy, repeatedly stating how good the energy in the room felt, promising to belt it out until his vocal chords gave up. The crowd loved him back, bouncing up and down to some stellar new songs, pumping fists, crowd surfing, and begging for another jam before the bar closed for the night. Future Islands obliged with a hushed version of “Little Dreamer” from 2008’s Wave Like Home.
The Wytches
When we previewed “Wire Frame Mattress” we knew that the UK band were not be missed, and the boys did not disappoint. Blending surf, sludge, and rockabilly elements with a healthy dose of reverb, The Wytches embodied worst-case-scenario teenage angst like we haven’t seen since watching The Craft at sleepovers.
Coachwhips
Jon Dwyer reunited his early aughts garage rock group and it felt so good. Eschewing stages as often as possible, Dwyer & Co. preferred to set up shop in the Austin dust and totally wreck it. I saw them once at the Castle Face Records showcase (that’s Dwyer’s label, which is set to re-release Coachwhips debut Hands on the Controls this month) and again on Pfluger Pedestrian Bridge, after which Dwyer set off fireworks during Tony Molina’s set. Dwyer sings into a mic that looks more like a wad of tape, resulting in a scratchy, unintelligible, yet somehow glorious garble, the short songs every bit as good as those from Thee Oh Sees catalogue but faster, looser, and somehow more primal.
Wye Oak
Another Baltimore act that’s been around for years, steadily releasing unnoticed but beautiful records, Wye Oak’s folk-inflected synth pop impressed many a South by audience. Andy Stack did double duty on drums and keys, using one hand to play each simultaneously. Just think about that for a minute. Try to mime those motions. It’s a good deal harder than rubbing your belly while patting your head, but Stack never missed a beat. Add to that Jenn Wasner’s honeyed voice, and space rock guitar riffs, and you’ve got a template for the galactic anthems of Shriek, the duo’s fourth studio album. It comes out April 29th on Merge.
Our inaugural SXSW showcase was a success! There’s no way we could thank everyone involved, but extra special thanks go out to eight bands who came from all over the world to play breathtaking sets for us and for our fans:
… and CreepStreet for providing goods to give away!
Worst Venue to Throw a Showcase: Upstairs on Trinity
It’s not actual a venue, it’s a wine bar. After reading the fine print on a very misleading contract, we learned that we’d have to rent an entire soundsystem to even have a show. We had to hire our own sound guy too. Even after pulling off both these feats (no easy task considering our out-of-town status), we weren’t allowed to set up until after 7pm, pushing our showcase back an hour. There weren’t even extension cords at the “venue” so I had to haul ass down 6th to a CVS to purchase whatever they had in stock. When psych rockers Electric Eye finally took the stage, their unravelling guitars definitely eased my frayed nerves.
Followed by Cheerleader’s uplifting pop punk, I was starting to feel a little better – until technical difficulties resurfaced. Live, learn and shrug it all off with some whiskey, that’s what I always say.
By the time we worked out our sound issues and Samsaya hit the area where a stage might have been in an actual club, I was admittedly wasted, but not enough that I failed to notice how inventive her acoustic set was, featuring musicians from all over the world, and how everyone in attendance – including the bartenders – responded to it. Leverage Models followed her lead, encouraging some seriously rowdy dancing with their artful antics, only helped by the (still) flowing libations. I didn’t get any decent pictures of the dance party because of the shitty lighting but also because, you know… libations. It all ended with me crying alongside I35, unable to get a cab, unidentified cables draped around my neck like someone’s pet python, ’til a random Austinite took pity on us and gave us a lift back to The Enterprise where I passed out in bed still wearing a leather jacket. We go to pick up our equipment the next day and the venue attempted to overcharge us for an event they had no business booking in the first place and hijacked our rented equipment as collateral while we disputed the bill. The process of getting it back took up a significant chunk of the rest of the week. All in all, it presents a gross example of the worst of SXSW profiteering. But wonderful performances from the bands who played the showcase are what saved the day, so big thanks to them!
Best Random Austin Moment: Salute!
Embattled with the venue from Hell, I was feeling a bit depressed – in part because the show hadn’t gone as planned, we’d inconvenienced Austin friends kind enough to give us rides while juggling insane work schedules, but also because I was missing out on a lot of bands I wanted to check out while going through the whole retracted process. I smoked some weed a bartender had given me the night before, ate a veggie burrito from Chillitos, and stumbled into The Vortex, a theater/bar in a barn hosting a party that featured Italian bands and a Patrizi’s food truck. I sat in the sun and took in the sounds of Omosumo, an electronic outfit that could be the lovechild of Led Zeppelin & Daft Punk sent away to boarding school in Palermo.
Runner Up: When Red 7 played The Hold Steady on the soundsystem right before The Hold Steady played
Queerest Showcase: Y’all or Nothing, Presented by Mouthfeel & Young Creature
Listed as a showcase for “not-so-straight shooters” the bill at Cheer-Up Charlies on Saturday night was stacked beginning-to-end with impressive performers, thoughtfully culled from queer scenes in Austin and beyond. There was a palpable feeling of community and camaraderie in the air and the evening was all about fun. Gretchen Phillips’ Disco Plague opened the night on the outdoor stage, situated in a white-stone grotto that forms the venue’s patio. Her improv dance-punk got the entire crowd going. Meanwhile, performance art duo Hyenaz brought glammed up electro to the inside stage, and it only got crazier from there. Austinites Mom Jeans‘ quirky pop punk had me beaming; they dedicated songs to John Waters, weed, and Satan. Leda introduced her band Crooked Bangs with the declaration “I’m a woman, and I don’t know what that means” before proceeding to mesmerize everyone watching with bass playing so nimble I still can’t get over it. BLXPLTN’s industrial punk-meets-hip-hop vibe is every bit as brutal as Death Grips, their lead single “Stop & Frisk” lambasting the racist practice. Big Dipper rapped. Ex Hex rocked. We deeply regret missing performances by TacocaT and Christeene and Sharon Needles due to some ongoing drama that needed taking care of. But we wish we could’ve stayed forever.
Not because I’m a stalker, just because they got to play early slots on some really rad bills. They were on point every time. Hopefully this means a lot more attention for the Philly-based trio in the upcoming year.
Best SXSW Tradition: Bridge Parties!
Night one I saw Perfect Pussy throw a bass into the Colorado while Meredith Graves wore a sparkly ball gown, followed by bang-up performances by Nothing and Ex-Cult.
Ex-Cult on the Pfluger Pedestrian Bridge
Night two was the aforementioned fireworks display courtesy of John Dwyer while Tony Molina played. The cops don’t seem to care and I want to be friends with everyone on that bridge forever.
Best Venue for Charging Phones: Cheer Up Charlie’s
Newly inhabiting the former Club DeVille compound as Wonderland has taken over its old East Side location, this is a haven for anyone with a near-dead battery, though Hotel Vegas was a close second. Both had multiple outlets that were conveniently accessible (rather than behind a bar that forced you to bug your bartender every time you wanted to Instagram something), often times in full view of a stage where bands were playing so you didn’t have to miss the fun.
Worst Venue for Charging Phones: Red 7
Home of Brooklyn Vegan’s day parties, not only was capacity over-policed after Tyler, the Creator incited a riot at Scoot Inn, but Red 7 has a peculiar sparseness that makes finding outlets nearly impossible. And you couldn’t just hand your phone over to the bartender without paying a $5 charging fee. A particularly hostile sign on the sound booth discouraged the uncharged masses from inquiring therein. Now, I know you don’t have to be able to snap a selfie at a show to have a good time. I was content to simply watch these lovely performances with documenting them. But ranting and raving about newly discovered bands enriches that fun and hopefully generates some buzz for the artist, which is kind of the whole point of SXSW. And communicating with friends still waiting in lines outside is pretty paramount, so cell phones at shows count as a necessary evil and everyone kind of has to get used to it.
Best-Kept Secret: Chain-Drive
This little-gay-bar-that-could is hunkered on a quiet street off the main drag of Rainey District. Met Christeene and Gretchen Phillips and Big Dipper on Tuesday, but the venue hosted out-of-control, unique line-ups every night.
Most Inflated Price: $6.99 Non-Bank ATM fee at 7th & Red River.
As in, $2 more than non-badgeholder admission to a show steps away at Beerland, where I caught Connections before heading to Hotel Vegas for Forest Swords.
Number of Chase ATMS in the immediate downtown area: 2
That were able to dispense cash: 0
Best Food: Gonzo
Every year I have to stop by Gonzo’s food truck at the East Side Fillin’ Station for a “Pig Roast” – sweet pulled pork topped with provolone, tangy carrot slaw, and spicy brown mustard on Texas toast. As I ate my annual sammie I literally found myself thinking about how ingenious Texans were for inventing really thick white bread grilled with butter on it. Austin’s first-ever In-N-Out location was a close second, because a Double Double Animal Style really is a life-changer.
Best Metal Band We Stayed With But Didn’t See Live: Christian Mistress of Portland
They were all very nice but their hair made us jealous.
Best Movie We Saw While Charging Phones/Re-Charging Selves At Jackalope: Daughters of Darkness
Best Austinites: It’s a tie!
Jenn from Guitar Center rented us four monitors, two speakers with stands, six fifty foot cables, a sixteen channel mixer, two DI boxes, and two mics with stands within a days notice, and didn’t change us extra when a snafu with the shittiest venue in Austin forced us to keep it longer than we’d planned. In general she was super understanding, knowledgable, professional, and friendly.
Chris English of Haunted ATX gave us a lift whenever we needed it in a hearse tricked out into a six-seat limo. We flagged him down out of a cab line a mile long trying to get from the downtown Hilton to the South Lama for Ground Control’s famed Pfluger Pedestrian Bridge punk party. The TV in the back was playing Dune. The next night, after another bridge party was announced, we texted him for another ride and he showed within fifteen minutes, giving us the same deal. Then he came in with an assist in The Great Equipment Rescue of SX2014 when none of our friends were able to help us schlep our equipment from venue to where we were staying, and he gave us a mini-tour of an Austin cemetery because that’s what he normally uses the limo for – haunted tours of Austin.
Best Non-Austinite: Giselle from Vancouver
…who came to our Tuesday showcase. Bowled over by our line-up, she proclaimed it was one of the best at SXSW and couldn’t understand why anyone would “wait so long to see Jay-Z ” when they could have been partying with us. Giselle is a little older, probably in her 40’s or maybe early 50’s. Having recently entered my thirties, I’ve often wondered if I was too old to be so invested in such a youth-centric industry. Giselle gives zero fucks about that. She isn’t even in the industry; she told me she “just likes to go to shows”. She makes trips to Austin each year (as well as to New York for CMJ), travels for other events and festivals and attends shows at home, where she uses her iPhone to snap pics of up-and-coming bands she started finding “when the internet came around and made it easier to discover bands”. It might be that Giselle is actually myself from the future, sent to the showcase to give me the hope and reassurance I need to keep going. If that’s so, I’m here to tell you that based on her outfit, normcore will be bigger than ever in fifteen years.
Best Almost-Brushes With Celebrity:
I was invited to go to Willie Nelson’s ranch and was hoping to hang with the country legend, but thanks to the showcase debacle didn’t make the limo. Annie almost interviewed Debbie Harry of Blondie but the Queen of New Wave rescheduled and switched to over-the phone.
Number of Wrist-bands Accrued: Only one.
A friend said to me, “That’s kinda sad and kinda really amazing.” But between putting on our own showcases and going to everyone else’s, I didn’t have time to wait around in lines for wristbands, then wait for lines to get into a venue, then wait for lines to get to the patio of the venue where bands were actually performing. And in what little time I did have, I chose to attend smaller events that lacked the corporate sponsorship necessitating said lines and said wristbands. So someone else was the one to Instagram Lady Gaga getting puked on; meanwhile I got to see shows unobstructed by big-box advertising that felt way, way more personal and memorable. For instance: I closed out SXSW at The Owl, a DIY space on the East Side with Eagulls, Tyvek, and Parquet Courts headlining.
Eagulls at The Owl. Phone died for the last time at SXSW shortly thereafter.
Number of Messages on Thursday morning asking if I was safe:
Lots & lots; truly felt loved. Our hearts go out to those that didn’t get a message back.
An Alphabetical List of Bands I Saw:
Amanda X, BLXPLTN, Big Dipper, Big Ups, Bo Ningen, The Casket Girls, Cheerleader, Coachwhips, Connections, Crooked Bangs, Dead Gaze, Eagulls, Electric Eye, Empires, Ex-Cult, Ex Hex, Far-Out Fangtooth, Fenster, Forest Swords, Future Islands, Gretchen’s Disco Plague, Guerilla Toss, Habibi, HighasaKite, The Hold Steady, Hundred Waters, Hyenaz, Jess Williamson, Juan Wauters, Kishi Bashi, Leverage Models, Mom Jeans, Nothing, Parquet Courts, Perfect Pussy, Pins, Potty Mouth, Residuels, Samsaya, September Girls, SOLDOUT, STRNGR, Tony Molina, Traams, Tyvek, Vadaat Charigim, Warm Soda, Weeknight, Wild Moccasins, Wildcat Apollo, Wye Oak, The Wytches, Young Magic[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
Three years ago, The War on Drugs wowed the world with their sophomore full-length album, Slave Ambient: proof that they were an impeccably strong band with or without Kurt Vile in the mix. Their chilled out Americana vibe garnered overwhelmingly positive responses, and along the way, the band were frequently likened to classic rock and folk kings like Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty, Neil Young—you get the point. The comparisons seem, undoubtedly, a little grandiose, but they’re undeniably on point, and today, they still hold up against The War on Drugs’ newest release, Lost in the Dream.
The ten-track, hour-long album, due out March 18th on Secretly Canadian, is a dream itself—a trip that evokes images of rolling landscapes and sunlight filtering through the windshield; a dreamy soundscape that teeters between vivid, active moments and gauzy, casual balladry. Truly, the album demands a long, winding road to stretch out on. This music is the stuff of long road trips to beautiful, American landmarks like the Grand Canyon.
Maybe I’m biased, having experienced that exact road trip when I was young with my family, accompanied by the Dire Straits and Supertramp. But that seems to be the magic of Lost in the Dream: it’s nostalgic in a way that feels personal and poignant, blending with my own memories of mom’s long hair and dad’s Elton John sunglasses without the slightest hint of cheese. It’s impressive, actually, how well The War on Drugs maneuver their way through ’80s and ’90s sensibility, avoiding the tacky potholes that artists fell in those days and are still falling in today. “Disappearing,” for example, kicks off with distinctly ’80s-sounding percussion and bass that might, in lesser hands, be in danger of coming off as trite, but the band take their time fleshing out the hazy, synthy sound, carefully crafting a gorgeous track.
“Eyes to the Wind,” on the other hand, has a very classic sound, with elements that bring Dylan and Petty to mind (particularly with lead singer Adam Granduciel’s voice and style), but it still manages to sound original and engaging. The song also features a lush piano riff that envelops the listener with its sweetness and gentle catchiness. In fact, throughout the entire album, band members Patrick Ergery, Dave Hartley, Robbie Bennett, and Granduciel do an expert job of layering instruments—quietly reverberating guitars, piano, tambourine, harmonica, saxophone, synthesizers—to achieve a really rich and dynamic sound.
The last song, “In Reverse,” is a major highlight. It begins quite minimally, washing over you with waves of soft guitar feedback. The music comes into focus as a faraway object would, like something you’re trying really hard to make out, and Granduciel’s lyrics reflect the feeling: “Through the haze there’s no one there / Wonderin’ if you care / Calling out your name in the darkness.” But, slowly, the blurred edges harden and you finally know exactly what you’re looking at. The song is surely catchy, but not in the traditional definition wherein catchy implies simple, or irresistible like your favorite candy bar; instead, “In Reverse” keeps you pressing replay because it makes you feel something. Seven minutes somehow feels too short for this track.
Granduciel closes the album with the lyrics “I’ll be here fading away,” but rest assured Lost in the Dream leaves an imprint on you that won’t soon be fading.
Often very catchy, sometimes even addictive. We try our best to resist, yet find ourselves giving in. Succumbing to that higher power— that undeniable urge to sing and hum along, learning all the words or memorizing that distinct melody. Of course I’m talking about theme songs. While many of our favorite T.V. shows these days may not have one, it was an unequivocal fact that TV shows in the 60’s all had their own theme song. So for this week’s Flashback Friday, here are five of the most memorable themse songs from television shows of the 1960’s. Theme songs that became earworms; burrowing their way into our brains. Songs that even when we hear them today, decades later, we know exactly where they are from.
5. The Twilight Zone. Created in 1959, The Twilight Zone’s theme song would soon become wildly popular. Its eerie quality and suspense-building rhythm was a great match for the television show. Something about that theme song just makes you feel a little uncomfortable, and it evokes the image of someone tiptoeing quickly and carefully, so as not to get caught snooping. A perfectly written song for this legendary TV show.
4. I Dream of Genie. Interestingly enough, the theme song we all know and love for I Dream of Jeanie wasn’t the original theme song. In season one, an instrumental jazz waltz was written for the show, and later rewritten and changed to a campier tune entitled “Jeanie.” This version was far more chipper and a bit more fast-paced. The use of the drums and trumpet in this song are especially memorable, though the use of live instruments was a very common practice in theme songs of the ’60s.
3. The Addams Family. I absolutely love everything about this song! Created in 1964, the theme song was written by a well-known Hollywood composer by the name of Vic Mizzy. The main instrument used in the song was a harpsichord, but we all remember this theme song for its use of finger snaps in the place of a percussion. This theme song was so distinctive that it was also used for the show’s sequel, The Addams Family Values, and the animated series that came out in 1992. Truly, this theme song captures the feel of the show, with an eerie aspect to it that’s also fun and silly at times.
2. Batman. Created in 1966 by Neal Hefti, the Batman theme song became very popular rather quickly. Partly because of its simplicity, and also due to its vibrant melody. The theme song consists of steady guitar playing and a chorus of four tenors and four sopranos singing, “Batman!” This theme song has been covered and sampled by various artists (including Prince and Snoop Dogg) and has been used in different television shows such as Sesame Street and SpongeBob Square pants. Needless to say, over the years this theme song has spread like wildfire.
1. Mission Impossible. Created in 1966, Mission Impossible’s theme song was written by Lalo Schifrin, and since then this song has appeared in many of the movies in the Mission Impossible franchise, including the 1988 TV series, the film series, and the video game. The original 1960’s theme song has gone down in history as one of TV’s greatest theme songs ever written, with live instruments that give a sense of mystery as well as beauty.
Le Poisson Rouge might seem like an ill-suited venue for a classical concert, but on Friday March 7, the place was transformed into quite a classy joint. The disco ball hanging above the heads of the elegant and clearly seasoned audience was the only giveaway that the concert would be followed by a ’90s-themed dance party with a live cover band and all (yep, I attended both shows).
But perhaps a “modern” and slightly out of the ordinary venue was the ideal spot for the night’s performances by LPR’s own ensemble, conducted by the well-known André de Ridder. The program featured excerpts from Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood’s score for There Will Be Blood, “Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta” by famed composer Béla Bartók, and the U.S. premiere performance of The National’s Bryce Dessner’s “Lachrimae.” Dessner and Greenwood’s works were recently paired together on an album released via Deutsche Grammophon, and the concert celebrated the two composers alongside Bartók, a mutual inspiration and influence.
At 8pm sharp, conductor André de Ridder appeared on stage looking cheerful and excited for the night’s proceedings. He pointed out both Bryce and brother Aaron Dessner seated in the center of the room with their family, but the program began with Greenwood’s compositions first.
The There Will Be Blood score came to life on the stage, with the cinematic sounds seeming much more rich and fleshed out. The dense string section made for a gorgeously layered sound, and the highly emotional pieces were reflected on De Ridder’s facial expressions. He deftly pulled the sounds from the ensemble, embodying the music with wide, sweeping, and dramatic motions.
As it turned out, though, that was simply the warm up. Bryce Dessner’s “Lachrimae” came after the short intermission, introduced by De Ridder who commented that this was “music without any boundaries.” Indeed, “Lachrimae” sounds immediately and arrestingly different, taking off with distorted noises from the cello that captivate with their dissonance. The intense piece required a great deal of energy from the musicians as well as De Ridder—the buildup in tension and, subsequently, the cathartic release were made visually very clear. The song unravels somewhat like a nightmare with feelings of anxiety and fear, but its a scintillating piece nonetheless. Audience members, including the standing audience in the back and Dessner himself, were absolutely rapt for all 13 minutes of the composition.
Béla Bartók’s piece was performed last, with the noticeable addition of a piano and more percussion. “Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta” premiered in 1937, but performed side by side with Greenwood’s and Dessner’s works, it seemed to fit right in. The style and themes were conspicuously similar to the other compositions performed that night, with the same kind of tension and feeling of trepidation. The music evokes a sinking sensation and feels sedative and disruptive at the same time. It seemed a fitting choice to close with a piece that further connected the dots between Greenwood and Dessner, ending the night with a full-circle feeling.
Every Thursday, AudioFemme profiles a style icon from the music world. This week our icon is Brian Fallon, who embodies Johnny Cash plus tattoo sleeves. He can wear the same white t-shirt one hundred different ways, all while keeping a lit cigarette in his mouth during a photo shoot. Despite being a scruffy New Jersey native, Fallon gives charming a new look: newsy caps, flannel, and wayfarers. Similar to Bruce Springsteen—whom Fallon holds a penchant for—he carries that similar Jersey character with a badass edge. But don’t be mistaken: the influences are just that, and Fallon is forging his own path with his unique style.
Frontman and guitarist for The Gaslight Anthem, Fallon and the boys regularly sell out shows at The Stone Pony in their home state. The whole band keep their punk fashion intact while performing; Benny Horowitz, Alex Rosamilia, and Alex Levine sport sleeveless tees, leather jackets and vests over hoodies to complete their unkempt yet dapper style. The Gaslight Anthem may have been around for about seven years, but their style has remained classic and bonafide, much like their music.
If you’re unfamiliar with this week’s style icon or The Gaslight Anthem as a whole, consider checking out their debut 2007 record, Sink or Swim. Fallon’s rusty voice makes it easy to imagine his rugged looks and New Jerseyan roots.
The band are currently on tour through the U.S., but in the meantime you can get a look at their style through their music video for the single off their third album, “American Slang,” below!
Kiko King & creativemaze are the monikers of a Berlin duo who classify their music as “Airbendermusic”, blending styles from all genres. They’ve released a few songs via YouTube and bandcamp, but “Illusions of Time” marks their first official release. It seems as though the introspective, menacing track is poised to take the band to the next level, having been included on the soundtrack for Showtime’s hit House of Lies.
It opens with quick-moving acoustic guitar-picking. A heavy, dark sensation begins to settle as the backdrop. Then, a hoarse voice with a dramatic echo enters, dropping loaded words: Time… Air… Illusion… Passion… finally settling on repetition of “Fate” until his voice gets soft. The track truly takes off about a minute in with a rhythmic electronic beats, low urgent strings, and guttural vocals sweeping over the whole of it, with the melody holding an otherwise sensational, exaggerated quality at bay. That’s the engineering genius behind creativemaze’s distinctive work, and it provides a perfect backdrop for the mysterious Kiko King and featured vocalist Jorlyn Selina. The elements each provide together create a stronger blanket of some universal sentiment than each could on their own. They softly croon “I need more time,” but that’s as personal or explicative as it ever gets.
What the track lacks in focused, direct statements, it makes up for with interesting rhythmic movements within the music. Intent on building mysterious personas, Kiko King and creativemaze are all mood on “Illusions of Time” but keep listeners on their toes with disconcerting swings from simple to soaring.
Tristen’s “Catalyst,” the latest track from her 2014 release Caves, harkens back to a post-disco dance era. The electro-flute intro, thumping synthesizer and clean female vocals are immediately reminiscent of ABBA and Madonna, particularly with their classic pop tracks “Gimme Gimme Gimme” and “Get Into the Groove.”
“Catalyst” is a fun showcase of Tristen’s diversity as a songwriter. Though she’s always been loyal to the Nashville folk-pop scene, she can certainly hold her weight as a synth-pop singer. The song’s strongest features are its dance-ability and audible proximity to 70’s and 80’s club giants that beckon you groove along. Lyrically, “Catalyst” is a rather simple ditty, as most electro-pop songs are known to remain, but Tristen’s vocal style is unique, untarnished, and keeps things interesting. This track is ideal for your next party playlist.
Eight years ago, Alan Sparhawk of Low spotted twenty-year-old Haley Bonar performing at an open mic and invited her and her drummer on tour with his band. Since then, Bonar’s been busy: she’s put out five solo studio albums and started a punk side project called Gramma’s Boyfriend, which we hear involves performing in eighties figure skating outfits. Bringing anxious bass lines together with elegant vocal harmony, Bonar brings a songwriting style to each of her albums that’s appealing and complex, with a way of cloaking grisly lyrics in catchy hooks.
“No Sensitive Man” opens with a rousing drum line and dreamy, smeared vocals that seem draped over the music. “Shut your eyes and play me something good,” Bonar sings, sounding exasperated. “I don’t wanna talk. We can get away with anything these days.” It’s a flat, unsentimental meditation with a choppy bass line that sprawls over the track. This is Bonar at her most disaffected– “No Sensitive Man” bristles in a way that’s new for Bonar’s solo material, and though it’s exciting to see her snarl, the self-isolation of the vocals on this track ultimately sound lazy, and disengaged from the rest of the music. In the absence of the sweet, story-telling style that have made her albums so good up to this point, the flat disappointment and dismissiveness that colors this track feels kind of unengaging, especially since the instrumental lines don’t fill out to take over the spotlight from Bonar’s narrative persona. While I like the idea of Bonar taking the thematic bleakness her music has always had and drawing it into the music’s aesthetic a bit more, “No Sensitive Man” lacked focus without Bonar’s vocals front and center.
Bonar’s new album, Last War, will be in stores May 20th via Graveface. Until then, check out “No Sensitive Man” below and let us know what you think!
An incredible line-up in an equally marvelous venue to complete a Wednesday night that felt more like a New Year’s Eve party—Music Hall of Williamsburg hosted a full ticket of four amazing musicians: Jack and Eliza, Total Slacker, Miniature Tigers, with headliners Bear Hands.
I was fascinated by Jack and Eliza’s reposed stage presence and I’ll be sure to check them out again at Pianos in June. They were the perfect beginning to my night, along with my whiskey sour. Abutting the duo was Total Slacker, and despite their name, they’ve actually caused quite a buzz. For a band that first sparked in a laundromat, its four members—Tucker Rountree, Zoe Brecher, and David Tassy, and Emily Oppenheimer—fit together famously. I had a chance to talk to Emily after the show, who revealed that her “biggest fan” (she’s the coolest mom ever) was there for support. And although she admitted to possessing an off-stage introverted personality, her shyness fractures at the sight of their audience.
Miniature Tigers were next, and it’s easy to fall in love with them—in my case, especially, since their debut album, Tell It to the Volcano, references Lost, which still stands as my favorite television series of all time. During the performance, Charlie Brand didn’t find it fit to just jive onstage; somewhere in-between “Cannibal Queen” and “Bullfighter Jacket,” he vaulted down into the audience. It was close, like the very sweat dripping down from his lifted temples onto my iPhone close.
[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”]With Ted Feldman of Bear Hands. The band was totally awesome, and proceeded after the show to grab a beer while Dylan smoked that post-show cig.
With the riot that was Music Hall of Williamsburg on a Wednesday night, water basins were running low, and everyone was trying to get their last Jameson shots and beer pints in before Bear Hands. These guys are also super busy, currently touring all over the country into spring and summer. Ted Feldman, Val Loper, Dylan Rau, TJ Orscher make up the Brooklyn-based quartet. They have come a long way from opening up for Passion Pit, and they’ve even got a show in London coming up under their belts. “Agora” set off everyone in a haze, bonding over lit joints. Dylan switched from the keyboard and vocals to being center stage. A glaring blue and orange hue surrounded the band, making for a pretty good light show, too.
Although “Giants” is newly released, the audience was not timid to cause a ruckus. Even the calming lyrics, “Loving you more,” and guitar seemed to set everyone on fire. Bear Hands’ full length album was released off Cantora Records a week prior to the show, which could explain the amazing energy coming from the band. Bear Hands finished the night in the best way possible—leaving the audience wanting more. The good news is they’re touring the shit out of the US, so you can catch them in the upcoming months. Download their new album, Distraction, now available on iTunes.
In the meantime, Listen to “Giants” here via Soundcloud:
“My only rules were that I would shut my conscious impulses as much as possible (my impulse to interrogate and analyze every gesture, ponder what imaginative impulse every sound was for, worry about what outlet would be used to release the music) and just make,” Shannon Fields has written, regarding his approach to music and his new project–and AudioFemme’s Band Of The Month!–Leverage Models. Fields’ creative impulses and internal landscapes are at the heart of this group. Friends and cohorts appear on Leverage Models’ self-titled debut, too, in such high and ever-evolving numbers that trying to count them would be futile, but Sharon Van Etten, Sinkane and Yeasayer all number among Leverage Models’ contributers. Fields, who dreamt up his first band, Stars Like Fleas, in 1999 and played under that name for nearly a decade, has always been inclined towards collaboration.
Listening to Leverage Models is a fantastically colorful experience, so much so that the first few times through the album feel like being in a brand new, exotic and densely stimulating city–it’s hard to have concrete thoughts on the music when you’re so busy just trying to take it all in. In a wonderfully interior journey, Leverage Models presents a mostly-joyous, always-elaborate layering of futuristic soul music, electronic riffs and repetitive vocal lines that sound more like instrumental licks than voices. It’s hard to see the seams of this album: the music’s many aspects seem like they must have simultaneously sprung, fully formed, into being. Since the album bears so little comparison to anything else in its category, finding the songs’ trajectories requires enough listening to get past just being dazzled by the bright lights and shiny metals, but once you do, the album is actually pretty accessible. Some of the songs, like “Sweet” (with Sharon Van Etten) are surprisingly catchy, with strong R&B influence and an endearing sense of excitement swelling beneath the melodies.
In the fifteen-odd years he’s been recording–first with Stars Like Fleas, and now Leverage Models–Fields has put out only four full-length albums, with a few years’ space between each. It’s easy to see why: each complex, densely compiled release packs a hefty wallop. None more so than Leverage Models, which feels like the summation of the full five years Fields took to create it, with an elegant blend of complexity in its instrumental arrangements and sweet simplicity in its intent.
Listen to the oh-so-stunning, “A Chance To Go”, here via Soundcloud
If you can’t catch Leverage Models at our SXSW showcase this Wednesday, cozy up with Shannon right here instead! Audiofemme got in touch with him and asked him a few questions about music, and the internet, and resurrecting his teenage self who would then listen to the new album. Here’s what went down:
AF: Tell us about the process of beginning your new project, Leverage Models. How did you want it to differ from your work with Stars Like Fleas? What inspires your music writing?
Shannon: Leverage Models didn’t really begin deliberately. Stars Like Fleas was a very large family of musicians that was so emotionally volatile, and so draining to keep afloat that when it finally ripped itself apart I just moved to the country and started spending all day in my home studio with absolutely no agenda except to find something to glue myself back together with. I suddenly had a surplus of time and space to create in. But also this sort of crushing weight of having a part of my identity, something I’d built for almost 10 years (Stars Like Fleas, my life in Brooklyn) vanish overnight. I felt free of the albatross it had become for me, but also a huge wave of “what now?” anxiety. The only way I could handle that was to entirely avoid thinking about the “what now?”, or about who I am or what I had to offer anybody. So that was a pretty radical change to my creative process. With the Fleas, the creative process was analytical to the point of compulsion – it was 2 parts sound creation / performance and 98 parts self-interrogation, willful deconstruction, avoidance of any convention, avoidance of anything that might work in an immediate or superficial way for anybody. And I don’t regret a moment of that. But Leverage Models originated in my just making songs that made me feel better and that I enjoyed living inside, without questioning anything (because at the time I had no intention of doing anything with those songs). Honestly, this was and still is straight up therapy….an approach I hadn’t previously had much respect for. I don’t want to suggest there isn’t still some of that going on with Leverage Models, but I try to keep the higher functioning parts of my brain out of the room until it’s time to take a step back and look at the big picture of an album, or a mix. Until then I let the lizard parts of my brainstem drive the bus. I think I’m more interested these days in the logic of craft and folk art rather than the trappings of modernism, that constant privileging of newness and confrontation of norms, so Leverage Models focuses much more on the shared conventions of pop music and just trying to be disciplined about writing and arranging well. (That said, lyrics are a different conversation entirely….a different ballgame, and equally important to me).
AF: Now that the album has been out for a few months, how do you feel about it? Do you have a favorite song?
S: I spent a year on the record and I’m completely happy with it. It’s not the record I would make today, but it’s a good snapshot where I was at a year ago, and I’m proud of the response I’ve gotten from some of the people whose opinions I care the most about. I don’t actually listen to my own records and can’t say I have a favorite song. Right now my favorite song to play live is The Chance To Go. With most of the songs I wrote and recorded them predominantly at home before bringing in the band to replace demo arrangements. But The Chance To Go came out of a live improvisational session with the band. One morning we woke up, I described a groove to the band, and maybe 15 minutes later we had that song. It feels more spontaneous and live than other things on the record because it is. Also….A Slow Marriage is one that ages well for me….it might be the most open, direct and personal…it feels simultaneously vulnerable and synthetic…which is how I feel most days.
AF: How do you feel about music in the digital age? Would you go to war in order to save the internet from extinction?
S: I’m a little bit confused and alienated by the new relationship to music that the culture has. Music is a little more of a disposable lifestyle accessory and a little less precious then it was when I was a teenager. I don’t know that I have a strong feeling about whether that’s a good or bad thing….I guess it’s a mixed bag, like all change. It’s what culture does. That said, I might not have any kind of social life or a career without the Internet….it’s easier to do everything (except make money), including just talking to people…which has always been difficult for me. It doesn’t carry over into performance, but offstage I have a crippling amount of social anxiety. So email is great. And I think when I moved to the country my music career might have been over in a pre-Internet world. Now it matters much less where I live.
AF: You’ve picked out of the way spots to do a lot of your recording, and Leverage Models was recorded in a farmhouse outside of Cooperstown, NY. Why do you choose such remote locations?
S: Ha!…because I live in that farmhouse in the country outside of Cooperstown! My band lives in Brooklyn but I left before Leverage Models happened. I record mainly in my home studio, in between barn chores (my wife and I are breeding horses) and other work around the property. Splitting my days between physical labor and creative work gives me a rhythm that’s really healthy for me. I feel like a better person for it…even if that’s sentimentalized nonsense, it’s a fiction that helps me get through the day. And I just feel physically and mentally more stable. NYC was breaking me. Also, I should mention that I generally record the full band and mix at The Isokon in Woodstock, NY, — mainly because D. James Goodwin, who runs it, is someone I trust and have a longstanding relationship with. He’s a powerful creative human and he gets me.
AF: What are your strengths as a musician? Would you say you have any weaknesses?
S: I’m not putting my head in either of those nooses. Is this a job interview, Annie?
AF: If one of your songs (while you’re in the process of writing it that is), were a small child (or pet), would you say that it would have a mind of its own or would it generally stay in line and follow the rules?
S: Oh I’m probably training feral animals here, metaphorically speaking. In my writing process I make a conscious effort not to know where I’m going when I begin a song. Sometimes I do try to generate ideas by throwing myself curve balls (horrible cliché’s, instruments and mixing choices that are steeped in cheesy baggage, pastiche, etc.) but mainly I just work really fast and intuitively up front…so fast I don’t have time to question what I’m doing….following my reflexes and my pleasure centers. I write/record in manic highs and edit when I’m miserable. Then if I’ve painted myself into a corner, finding my way out usually leads to something that’s better than it would be if I tried to really over-direct and control the process.
AF: If you could have any person, living or dead, real or fictitious, listen to a song off Leverage Models, who would it be? What do you think they/it would think about that song?
S: Hmmmm….the only thing that comes to mind would be my teenage self. And….I really have no idea what I would think. But I think I’d be pretty down. I would probably question all the slap bass.
AF: If you could experience your own music through one of your other senses, which would it be? What would it taste/smell/feel/look like?
S: Can I experience someone else’s music this way? That seems like a pretty heavy gift to use in such a self-indulgent way. I’m a little food-obsessed. I think Maurice Fulton’s music would make for a pretty satisfying combination of salt, heat and sweetness, without a lot of heavy starchy proteins.
AF: What is one of your favorite cities to perform in? Do you have any weird tour bus necessities?
S: We’re lucky to get a bar towel and some hot water on a hospitality rider and we tour in my 2008 soccer-mom minivan, packed so full of shit none of us can move our legs. I look forward to having weird tour bus necessities though.
As for chosen cities, I just like performing anywhere that people seem hungry for music and aren’t so self-conscious that they’re afraid to move their bodies at a show. But to be honest, I was just as uptight and self-conscious for a long time. It took a long while to get to the point where I really internalized that I am going to die – I think that’s what it pivots on – and was able to full let go of all those kinds of very Midwestern, probably very male inhibitions. So we love playing smaller towns that are usually passed over; where you play to a small crowd but everyone who comes up to you is grateful and excited. It makes me remember being that kid in Kansas City…remembering the feeling you have – living in what you think is the ass-end of the universe — when you see something that changes the game for you, turns a light on, makes the world feel suddenly larger and more nuanced and more capable of possibility and not limited to the values of whatever oppressive cool-crowd you’re stuck under, shows you a way out or inspires you to remake yourself. Anyway, we seem to find a lot of these places in the south. On our current tour, D.C. (a huge house party with a few hundred people, put on by the Lamont Street Collective), Asheville NC, Charlotte NC, and Jacksonville FL were all surprisingly bonkers. I just like to feel like I’m making some kind of real connection with every person there. If I don’t, I feel like a complete failure as a performer and as a person…no matter how much people might have liked it or how ‘on’ the band was. I always take crowd reactions personally, I’m very motivated to feel that connection, even when I know I’m doing things onstage to actively bait or confront them a bit (which happens).
AF: Do you have any words of wisdom for Audiofemme? Any secrets you’d like to divulge?
S:
1. No wisdom, but a thanks to Audiofemme for helping to provide a balance to the music journalists’ boys club. I’m not sure boys clubs are our scene. I’m used to getting threatening looks in boys’ clubs.
Jeffertitti’s Nile is the kind of band that likes to make its own reality. The project of Jeffertitti Moon, bassist for Father John Misty, Jeffertitti’s Nile developed in the space between tours, expanding with various new members and cameos as well as scattered musical styles and odd combinations. The group prides itself on its unpredictability, and seem to deliberately sidestep expectations with each new release of self-described “Transcendental Space-Punk Doo Wop.”
It should come as no surprise, then, that the first single off the Jeffertitti’s second album The Electric Hour, set to drop at the end of April, is a little out of left field: on “Blue Spirit Blues,” Jeffertitti conducts a large-scale, ultrazany reimagining of jazz legend Bessie Smith’s 1929 version. Jeffertitti’s cover is a full gutting of the track: underlaid with a bass pull as powerful as a riptide, “Blue Spirit Blues” moves at a breakneck pace through its three and a half minutes, rollicking and snarling the whole way.
Bessie Smith and Jeffertitti aren’t nearly as odd a combination as they seem on first glance, and in fact, the more you listen to the song, the easier it is to realize that the full-body trip of Jeffertitti’s “Blue Spirit Blues” isn’t a new addition; the song always had a glint of craziness beneath the surface. The lyrics have always been scary: it’s the story of dreaming of descending into hell, running until someone wakes you up. Just as the deep dread and foreboding at the heart of Jeffertitti’s version is traceable to Smith, the original version of the song has always had something otherworldly and–in an early 20th century jazz sort of way–psychedelic about it. Jeffertitti’s rendition blasts open the song’s expansiveness and amps up the dark, sexy rhythm behind the melody.
It’s hard to know what to expect from an album whose first single is a cover, but if the imaginative power behind this track is any indication, The Electric Hour will be worth looking out for. The new album drops on April 29th via Beyond Beyond is Beyond Records. Until then, listen to “Blue Spirit Blues” below:
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.
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