NewVillager takes Manhattan

I know next to nothing about NewVillager, and I am not the only one.
I came across the video for “Lighthouse”while curating a design blog and was blown away by the elaborate costumes and energetic posturing. When their self-titled debut album was released, it was hard not to fall in love with the infectious melodies and pop-inspired grooves. But who were NewVillager? They seemed to have anywhere between two and twenty members, depending on whether one decides to count dancers, living sculptures, hand-clappers, and videographers, all of whom seem to have been beamed down from another dimension beyond our own plane.
drummer Collin Palmer bestowing fan with mask

NewVillager are most certainly building a mythology around their work, which is equal parts musical and visual. A gallery installation in Tribeca last month and a video for second single “Rich Doors” have introduced a conceptual game that apparently has to be experienced to be understood, and even then all bets are off. Last week I decided to see for myself what all the fuss was about, knowing that even if the set-up was less elaborate than what I’d seen on YouTube, I’d still hear some great tunes.

Ross Simonini

I was dismayed upon arrival to find a line down the block. My friend and I went to a bar around the corner for drinks, but even after we’d downed some cheap PBR and returned to Mercury Lounge there was still a line. The crowd was baffling. Had Mercury Lounge run a Groupon? That’s the only explanation I had as to how the folks in front of us had wound up here.  I’m not trying to be judgmental, but none of them seemed the type that would be into the possibility of this becoming some insane piece of performance art.  Slowly but surely, we filtered through the door and the narrow bar to the show space inside. We didn’t have to wait long before three musicians took the stage, which was adorned with bizarre props.

Ben Bromley makes faces, and music
The set was perfectly executed and seemed extremely well-rehearsed. Be-scarfed singer Ben Bromley’s facial expressions were particularly animated as he manned the keyboard, prompting my friend to aptly dub him “the white BobbyMcFerrin”. Ross Simonini chimed in with additional vocals and apparently prefers to play guitar barefoot. Drummer Collin Palmer did double-duty as hype man, stepping out from behind his kit a few times to get the crowd pumped.  Halfway through the set a dancer completely obscured by a hood with with a grin that literally went from ear to ear came from out of nowhere, wriggling off the stage and through the audience, handing out masks. One particularly ornate mask was bestowed upon a lucky observer who was invited to dance (albeit poorly) on stage. She was later joined by two friends, one of whom exuberantly proclaimed “It’s my birthday!” but I’m almost positive this was not part of the NewVillager myth.
Not actually a member of NewVillager
Meanwhile, on stage right, another performer had situated himself or herself or itself inside a giant inflatable statue. A grey-and-white striped column pranced throughthe crowd as well. The culmination of these activities was, of course, “Rich Doors”, performed as an encore though encores are always a slightly perplexing endeavor at Mercury Lounge, where there’s no place for the band to hide. When I say they played “Rich Doors” as an encore, I also mean that they played Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams”. You can watch a video I shot of the revelry below.
I went to Mercury Lounge expecting indie rock’s answer to Gwar, and in all honesty I was more weirded out by the audience than the performance. What I got was definitely more random than the almost Jodorowsky-esque set-up promised in the“Lighthouse” video, but was still a little charming. Even with all the fanfare it was the songs themselves that stood out most. Well-constructed in the first place, their live translation was sublime. With regards to the mythology behind NewVillager, all I can say is that it would be nice if these artists let their fans in onthe secret.

i know what you did last year.

For some, 2011 was just a year where seemingly every other girl/gay man in Brooklyn decided to shave a random swath of hair down to the scalp. But for me, it was a collection of moments that have inspired me to whole-heartedly evaluate the way I experience music and actually make something out of my passion.

i know what you did last year.
a collection of tracks representing the highlights of a year’s worth of live events.
by tiny_owl on 8tracks.
click band names in the text for youtube videos of select performances!
My meditations on this began out of a repugnance for getting older. I had tickets to see Washed Out with openers Blood Orange and Grimes, but the night of the show, a Monday, everyone bowed out, citing the old “have to be up early for work” excuse. It dawned on me that while I was still serving tacos in a tiny Mexican restaurant, these people, my friends, had careers, and that these careers were so important that they could not waste hours of sleep to see a once-in-a-lifetime lineup play to a packed house, everyone with dancing shoes on. I wrangled a friend who, like myself, had few daytime responsibilities, or at the very least could handle being a bit sleepy the next day. We had a phenomenal time, but even so I was bummed. Was I somehow immature or unaccomplished because I enjoyed this sort of thing? On Thursday, aheart-to-heart with a friend who had bailed resulted in the followingconclusion: the two of us were at different places in our lives, andapparently I was not the adult.
The thing is, it didn’t really matterto me. If being an adult meant forgoing unexpected Bastille Dayfireworks over the Hudson after a free tUnE-yArDs performance so thatI could efficiently alphabetize files in a cubicle for a steadypaycheck, then I was content to sling salsa for at least a few moreyears. I wouldn’t trade losing my shit over those first hauntingstrains of Dirty Beaches’ “Lord Knows Best” billowing throughGlassland’s papery clouds to change a dirty diaper, because Alex Zhang Hungtai is the coolest dudewho ever lived, and that night he vowed to “croon the fuck out”which is exactly what happened.
I wouldn’t want to miss the chance tojump on the Music Hall of Williamsburg stage for Star Slinger’sclosing cut “Punch Drunk Love” or to witness Phil Elvurum on thealtar of the gorgeous St. Cecilia’s church, his soft voicereverberating angelically around the cathedral. Or to have folk heroMichael Gira kiss my hand after the Swans show, which was theloudest, sweatiest, and single most transcendent rock-n-rollexperience I’d ever had. Nor would I miss the incredible stageset-up as it virtually came alive to Animal Collective’s ProspectPark set, even as the heat and hallucinogens caused teenagers allaround me to pass out. Had I not decided on a whim just a day before the show, I would never have seen Dam-Funk shred akey-tar as we sailed around Manhattan on a ferry, the sun settingagainst the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty waving hertorch over the deck. I braved the pollution of the Gowanus Canal tosee a Four Tet DJ in a garden that managed to be verdant despite allthe toxins pulsing through the ground.
This was my fourth year at CMJ, and itstands as one of my favorite events because in that moment, you’reright with those fledgling acts, waiting to see a performance thatwill build their buzz or totally break them. This year, at a TrashTalk performance replete with band members flinging themselves frombalconies, a friend of mine well into her twenties found herself in acircle pit for the very first time. Later that week, I watched PatGrossi of Active Child strum a person-sized harp, its stringspractically glowing as they vibrated against his fingertips.
Fiercely loving music is one thing thatdoesn’t get boring for me. As I age, it doesn’t get old. Seeing aParty of Helicopters reunion performance at Death By Audio inFebruary proved that. I used to see them religiously when I lived inOhio. In my veins was the same blood that was present when I wastwenty, and every muscle, every cell, remembered what to do – Idamn near gave myself whiplash, working myself into a frenzy.
And despite spending hours researchingobscure bands for music supervision projects I freelance, I stilldiscover bands just by attending shows. While dancing my ass off atthe 100% Silk Showcase at Shea Stadium, I discovered a whole label’sworth of material harkening back to club jams of the nineties, andthe Amanda Brown vs. Bethany Cosentino debate was forever settledin my mind in favor of the LA Vampires frontwoman; Brown is avisionary while Cosentino is just cute.
In roughly fifteen years of attendingrock concerts, I’d say I had the best one yet. I’ve decided thatsince growing up is not worth the trade-off of giving up live music,or changing the way I experience the music that I love, that I willhave to marry the two. While this trajectory began years ago, thisis the first time I’ve felt any sort of mission behind the fandom. Iam the person people call and ask “are there any good shows goingon tonight?”, the person with extra tickets who drags friends alongto see bands they haven’t heard of, the person who brings a hugegroup of old friends together for a show, the person who barring allthat will go to a show alone and still have a blast. I am one of thethousands of people who log on to Ticketmaster at 9:55am forRadiohead tickets and still won’t get any. I’m the person at thefront of the crowd, snapping a few quick pictures for those whocouldn’t make it, and then dancing like a thing possessed for therest of the set. For me, it’s dedication. It’s all part of beingsomeone who was there.

we are audiofemme.

This blog began as a reaction, and even before it has launched, it has become an embrace.
We had noted a lack of female voice in music writing, but further investigation has unearthed a wealth of female rock journalism, both from the past and in the present. So apparently, the lack is in the notice we take, and in the validity we bestow upon such writings. Let this be a place where we can celebrate those writings instead of ignoring  them.
Our ultimate goal for this blog is to make it a real thing – to incorporate the way we experience music in our daily lives. We want to make you mixes, host parties, book shows, dance with you, and link with organizations like Willie Mae Rock Camp for Girls and Make Music New York, all in addition to a smattering of video posts, show reviews, interviews, album raves, and musical rants.
We love music in a way that most people are ashamed or afraid to love anything – unabashedly, though not always unconditionally. We may not always understand why or how specific songs can inspire such emotional response, but we feel these emotions in ever fiber of our beings.  Everything you read or see here will stand as testimony to that. Thank you so, so much for joining us.