Tag: Girls

LIVE REVIEW: Christopher Owens @ Music Hall of Williamsburg

Christopher Owens MHoW

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Christopher Owens MHoW
all photos Jamila Aboushaca

I remember my first experience listening to Christopher Owens. A few years back, I had the likes for a guy I was working with. We grew a relationship over talking about music that we loved and discovered. He told me in the middle of May to listen to a song called “Hellhole Ratrace” by Girls. That feeling was unlike anything else that stirred up inside of me. Instantly hooked, I looked up everything there was to know about Girls. And although the band has been broken up for some time, Owens- the heart and lead of Girls, set out for his solo career in 2013.
For the past year, I found myself a recluse. For the same first reasons I fell in love with the brilliance that is Christopher Owens, I found myself revisiting those Girls albums and his first solo album, Lysandre. His music is therapy, his voice a guidance, his lyrics an enlightenment. You can imagine my happiness when I finally had the chance to see him live last Wednesday.
Music Hall of Williamsburg hosted an intimate show which left me with infinite satisfaction and a heart filled of more emotion than I could have ever imagined. Two colossally talented backup singers stood side-stage, belting out their souls and imbuing the room with a magnificent aura of love and heartache. The band – including vocalists Skyler Jordan, Makeda Francisco, and Traci Nelson; John Anderson on lead guitar; Danny Eisenberg on the organ; Darren Weiss drumming; Ed Efira playing pedal steel; and David Sutton on bass -played alluringly together, the result of a long tour spent rendering Owens’ love-and-life-weary songs. Owens can be a shoe gazer, but wore a cowboy hat graciously for some of his set, a hint at his affinity for classic Americana anthems. He opened up with a marvelous rendition of “My Ma” and proceeded with more Girls songs while mixing in tracks from his latest record, The New Testament. 
Alongside his number one honey, his Rickenbacker, and his six-piece band, Owens created dense, lush soundscapes, nothing more beautifully paired than the church-sounding organ and guitar noodling. He likes to jam too, and passionately. I stood alongside fans crying as “Jamie Marie” started. The crowd continued to feel the aches as he played “Stephen,” backup singers sounding like angels fitting for an homage to his late brother. However, with all the tenderness there was, we shared lively moments too. His first single from The New Testament, “Nothing More Than Everything To Me,” had us dancing and clenching stranger’s hands. With cowboy hat included, “Never Wanna See That Look Again” finally gave us a taste of that charm.
Christopher Owens was a million things that night: brilliant, a genius, honest, respectful, appreciative. For me, he was hopeful. Some of us might have been worried that we would never see him again on stage, blessed by his presence, perhaps with the underlying anxiety that Owens may abruptly leave the music scene again. But in those moments, center stage and looking at him teary-eyed, Owens seems permanently bound by something bigger than his resignations. There remains something concrete in Christopher Owens’ music that spoke to the crowd and myself that very night, cementing Owens as a storyteller of the highest order. Polite and appreciative, he gave a sincere ‘thank you’ after every song. But true thanks belongs to Owens himself, for giving me the hope that I needed.
Set List:
1. My Ma
2. It Comes Back to You
3. My Troubled Heart
4. Nothing More Than Everything To Me
5. Oh My Love
6. Love Like a River
7. Laura
8. Overcoming Me
9. I Just Can’t Live Without Y ou
10. Never Wanna See That Look Again
11. A Heart Akin To The Wind
12. Jamie Marie
Encore
1. Stephen
2. Forgiveness
3. Vomit
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PLAYLIST: 18 Essential Halloween Songs

If the theme songs from X-Files and The Twilight Zone or repeated plays of “Monster Bash” and “Thriller” aren’t quite getting you in the mood for Halloween, have no fear (see what I did there?).  AudioFemme has compiled a list of the creepiest choruses and bone-chilling ballads, guaranteed to spookify your Spotify and haunt your headphones all season long.

1. Cat Power – Werewolf: At the crux of all lycanthropic legend is the intense pain experienced in the transformation from human to monster.  Sometimes the focus is on the excruciating physical changes – teeth and claws elongate, fur bursts flesh, etc. but the poignancy in the myth is the loss of control to the whims of the full moon and the bloodlust it brings to even the most timid changelings.  Chan Marshall’s baleful crooning and the spidery strings that anchor this romantic re-imagining of age-old folklore are the perfect expression of the mutant’s pain.

2. The Cramps – I Was A Teenage Werewolf:  Lux Interior and Poison Ivy made a name for themselves and their band by referencing horror and sci-fi iconography in many of their songs, and this jam is the quintessential piece of theatrical surf-rock that put their sound on the map.  Named for the 1957 movie starring Michael Landon (in which psychological experiments turn a troubled teen into something more sinister), the desperation this track captures is not just that of the werewolf’s plight, but that of being a teenager as well.  No one even tries to intervene with the wild mood swings and violent outbursts of our protagonist despite his begging cries.  And who can blame them – have you been near a high school around 3PM?  Teenagers: more frightening than werewolves.

3. Thee Oh Sees – Night Crawler: Thee Oh Sees are a band that love to infuse their raucous punk-rock with gruesome imagery and a dash of creepy vibes.  The towering guitar squall, futuristic synths and distorted vocals on this track, from this year’s excellent Floating Coffin LP, make me feel like I can see and hear in monster-vision as I prowl through the city at odd hours, deformed by toxic slime, just… you know… looking for a little love.

4. Misfits – Skulls: The 80’s horror punk crew took cranium collection to a whole new level with this quintessential anthem.  We don’t know why Glenn Danzig wants our skulls (or the skulls of little girls) nor do we know how they’ll be affixed to Danzig’s wall (has he commissioned and built a special shelving unit? Will the bone fragments be assembled haphazardly to his cracked plaster?) except to say this: he is a demon and bathes in the blood of decapitated bodies.  Demons just need skulls, okay?

5. Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds – Red Right Hand: The king of murder ballads outdid himself with this one.  It’s essentially a tale of a mysterious stranger whose all-encompassing power seems culled from malevolent sources; he can get you what you want, but it may cost you your soul.  Nick Cave’s warnings are snarled over loungey organ, orchestra hits, crackling percussion, and even some musical saw, making it an indelible Halloween staple that sounds like no other.  But it truly endures because of the intrigue of the elusive man with the red right hand.  Like Nick Cave himself, he’s a ghost, he’s a God, he’s a man, he’s a guru.

6. Liars – Broken Witch: Angus Andrew chants the word blood over and over again and incites what sounds an awful lot like some kind of Satanic spell with horses and bears and stuff.  From 2004’s brilliant Salem witch trials themed concept record They Were Wrong So We Drowned, a record which you should probably play in its entirety every October if you are not already in the habit of just listening to it all the time, like I did back in college.  See also: “There’s Always Room On The Broom” if you’re having an actual dance party.

7. Donovan – Season of the Witch: In 1967, Donovan was busy shedding his folksy reputation for a more eclectic one, which drew on styles as disparate as calypso and psychedelica.  On the latter end of those explorations, we have classic psychedelic jam “Season of the Witch”, a song about shifting identities and the strangeness of human personality.  When you break it down, the song is really about adopting identities and how in turn that makes all of us changeable, as though under a spell.  And while that doesn’t have anything to do with Halloween directly, it’s easy enough to apply to your experience costume shopping at Ricky’s.

8. Talking Heads – Psycho Killer:  Here’s the thing about serial killers: you don’t ever really know why they do what they do.  In general, their murderous sprees seem to stem from a deep hatred of the human race and complete lack of regard for life or personhood.  That’s what makes them psychotic.  You don’t have to understand French to get where David Byrne is going with this 1977 anthem that flips the point of view to that of a killer who at the beginning of the song just seems like he needs a little rest and maybe some Lexapro, and increasingly spazzes out until he’s ending lives left and right and reveling in the glory of it.  With misanthropes like these, it’s best just to let them be.  And with bass lines like this, it’s best to dance like the psycho you’ll hopefully never become.

9. Wooden Wand and the Vanishing Voice – Genesis Joplin: So you want to join a coven?  Well you’re gonna have to dance around with minotaurs and stuff.  A bunch of devils are gonna wake you up in the middle of the night and draw weird stuff all over you (probably in blood).  And then maybe you’ll write a super-chill a cappella jam about it, with just a little sparse percussion to back your possessed howls, but you don’t really have to if you don’t want to because Wooden Wand has you covered.  James Jackson Toth’s now ex-wife Jessica sings this one and her voice sounds as smokey and witchy as it needs to sound to pull off poetry that could’ve been ripped from a page out of the Necronomicon.

10. Girls – Ghost Mouth: Christopher Owens has here cast himself as the loneliest, saddest spirit left behind, trying to get to Heaven.  It’s probably a metaphor for simply feeling like a ghost, but actually being a ghost is probably also as sad and confusing as Owens’ living, breathing existence.

11. Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffitti – Creepshow: Seedy and weird as only early Ariel Pink can be, this track seethes with macabre laughter, horror-movie samples, pornographic squeals, and stalker-inspired lyrics droned in low octaves.  It perfectly captures the sleaziness of dressing up like a “sexy” version of something only to find yourself in the wrong part of town, whisked into a dilapidated theater for a slasher flick you can’t be sure the actors actually survived.

12. Echo & The Bunnymen – The Killing Moon: Who doesn’t love this song?  The kind of person you slay as a sacrifice to the Lunar God, that’s who.

13. The Microphones – Headless Horseman: Phil Elverum’s acoustic ballad about the the Headless Horseman’s painful transition from “mighty human man” to terrifying monster is an extended metaphor for loss and shifting perceptions in relationships.  But he’s certainly got an admirable knack for making lines like “I walked aimlessly around with a flaming pumpkin head” sound pretty and melancholic instead of ridiculous.  Maybe Danzig will let him borrow one of those skulls he’s been so fervently collecting?

14. The Luyas – Channeling: Montreal band The Luyas wrote most of this record after the sudden death of a close friend and even give credit to “the ghost” in its liner notes; “Channeling” is a seancing song wherein Jessie Stein invites specters to make a host of her.  She makes contact through the repetition of the spirit’s name and in trying to hear the key of its voice, promising “I will let you disappear / so long, so long / But I’m giving you my ear / come play your song / if you’d like to stay a while / this way, this way / You can use my body now / To play, to play”.  As someone who’s never been able to say “Bloody Mary” in front of a bathroom mirror even once, I have to admire the bravery of that invitation.

15. Timber Timbre – Demon Host:  It might not keep the Halloween dance party going, but this acoustic gem pits Taylor Kirk’s haunted wails against questions about spirituality and the nature of death.  Instead of trickery, we’re treated to gorgeous imagery over quietly strummed guitars that burst into lush, ghostly chorales and twinkling piano.  It’s right at home on the band’s 2009 self-titled album, which features several tracks with still creepier vibes – so much so the band made the album available to fans for free on Halloween the year of its release.

16. Tu Fawning – Multiply A House: Swooning trumpets and startling vocals are only the beginning of this moody murder ballad; the lyrics are darker than a black cat at midnight.  Over a deliberate drumbeat, vocalist Corinna Repp sings about sinking bodies and being haunted by houses.  Hollowed-out flutes lend atmospherics toward the end of the track, as Repp coos “you’ll be the only one on the hill alive.” Listening to this is like Cliff’s Notes for reading House of Leaves.

17. Wymond Miles – The Thirst:  Against a thudding bassline and immediate guitars tinged with new-wave tropes, Wymond Mile’s plaintive vocals relate what could be a vampiric love story: “Death’s kiss upon your lips, a gentle curse / teach me tonight what that spell is worth” he pleads during the second verse.  The choruses are spattered with mentions of pale bodies and the moon and death and fire and the song unfurls anthemic from those reference points.  It’s too dark for the Twilight saga, but might be right at home on the soundtrack for Xan Cassavete’s excellent Kiss of the Damned.

18. Kanye West – Monster: As much as I really wanted to put “Werewolf Barmitzvah” on this list, the final spot goes to Kanye’s beastly boasting on this single from My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.  Dark, twisted, and beautiful, yes, with a terrifying music video to match, this song features all-star guest appearances from Jay-Z, Nicki Minaj, and Rick Ross, all of whom bring the movie-monster metaphors into heavy play.

Life After Girls: The Rebirth of Christopher Owens

In January, Fat Possum will release  Lysandre, the debut record of Christopher Owens.  Owens will then play two back-to-back shows at Bowery Ballroom.  In all likelihood, these shows will sell out.  The reason that the music world is waiting so eagerly for this particular singer/songwriter’s first solo record is because Christopher Owens is best known as half of highly celebrated indie rock band Girls.

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Christopher Owens at Le Poisson Rouge, image courtesy of wagz2it

Formed in San Francisco 2009 with bassist and producer Chet “JR” White, Girls became a huge and nearly instantaneous success.  Part of the fascination no doubt stemmed from Owens’ intriguing personal history, having been raised in the Children of God cult until he was sixteen.  But it was the songs that the duo created that kept audiences enthralled, their pop simplicity resonating with fans and critics alike.  The effortless, often sunny chords and uncomplicated lyrics, simultaneously fun and dark, characterized the three releases the band would produce over the next few years – Album in 2009, Broken Dreams Club in 2010, and 2011’s Father, Son, Holy Ghost – before Owens announced via Twitter last summer that he would be leaving the band.  Now, six months later, Owens will make good on his promise to continue to write, record and play music, but this time, he’s on his own.

With Owens poised to take this leap, what can fans expect?  Oddly enough, Lysandre is a strange little epilogue to the Girls saga; it’s a loosely themed tour diary of the band’s first international outing, during which Owens met and fell in love with the French girl the album is named for.  It features all the sentimentality one might see coming with such a synopsis – he describes the tender details of their first encounters and the painful realizations he came to as it ended.  And in between he questions his validity as a songwriter, marvels at the cities of the world, and swoons about a million times over, all in the key of A.

I caught what I considered a slightly more than mildly awkward solo performance a few weeks ago at Le Poisson Rouge, only his second solo appearance.  That’s using the term ‘solo’ a bit loosely since he was accompanied by a sort of sad looking plant, a keyboardist, a drummer, two back up singers (one of which is his new love interest) and a wizard-esque, white-bearded woodwind player who was literally playing a different instrument almost every time I looked at him.  More often than not, he trilled the recurring “Lysandre’s Theme” on his rather jazzy flute.  Owens and company proceeded to play his record from beginning to end, signifying further Owens’ clear intention to present the work as a whole rather than as a set of separately satisfying and sonically distinguished gems in the manner of his work with Girls.  While this is admirable in its ambition, it made the material a bit harder to digest, especially coming from someone who has shown a bit of a genius as far as composing perfectly pitched pop nuggets is concerned.

The performance was awkward because everyone wanted Owens to succeed.  There’s no denying Owens as an artist and when he left Girls he left the world hungry for great records that could have been.  But it’s also frustrating to know that he has chosen to make indulgent and somewhat gawky folk music when he’s capable of exploring the same themes in a far more palatable way.  It’s more than a little uncomfortable to watch someone coming to terms with a painful past, confronting strange desires and issues of inadequacy. It wasn’t that the music he made under the Girls moniker was less raw or honest, but the sonic intricacies of his former project provided a more clever mask for its coarser sentiments.  Without that veil, Owens’ musings tend to go from earnest to embarrassing.

A perfect example of that came about halfway through the set, when Owens performed “Love Is In The Ear Of The Listener”.  The lyrics are a series of questions posed from songwriter to himself regarding the necessity and worth of his work, but it sounds like something an aspiring fifteen-year-old poet might write.  He wonders if everyone’s tired of hearing love songs, if he’s just a bad songwriter in general.  It came across like a questionnaire Owens might send to blogs with promo copies of Lysandre, and even had the audience chuckling at certain lines.  It’s entirely possible that Owens is going for a tongue-in-cheek exploration of his insecurities.  It could be that he’s not actually worried about his abilities at all; someone with Owens’ degree of critical acclaim must feel that he can’t totally fail.  The conclusion he comes to in the song is that it doesn’t matter anyway since he’s doomed to write what he feels regardless of what people want or expect.  In this way, it acts as a sort of disclaimer for the entirety of the new material, a challenge even.

Owens closed out the set with an encore of iconic covers from Bob Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel, Cat Stevens, The Everly Brothers, and Donovan. By this point I was almost embittered enough to yell out “Cover a Girls song!” knowing that it would be completely inappropriate and even unfair to do so.  But the whole thing felt like Owens had left Girls to become a glorified wedding singer – and the tables LPR had set up around the stage did nothing to diffuse that impression.  Owens picked celebrated songs that definitely seemed autobiographical, communicating his fears of striking out on his own (“Wild World”), holding specific relevance to his break from JR White and Girls (“Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright”), and fleeing from the only family he knew when he was still a teenager (“The Boxer”) but also belie his fascination with classic love songs (“Let It Be Me”) and folksy caricature (“Lalena”).  If these celebrated songwriting heights act as reference point for Owens’ aspirations, his goals certainly cannot be loftier.  One can almost parse the moments when Lysandre makes good on these objectives but the record I’ll be more excited to hear will chronicle this current solo voyage, rather than act as a sentimental look back at the artist’s time with a band I’ll miss for a while still to come.

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Baby’s First SXSW: Thursday

Tucked between the bustle of E 6th and some seemingly deserted train tracks was the South by Southwest nexus of Fader Fort and a converted warehouse identified only by its address at 1100 E. 5th, which would host an array of bands under the daring header “Mess With Texas”.  I was especially grateful for the stellar lineup sponsored by a slew of vendors, since I’d somehow tragically forgotten to RSVP for Fader Fort.  The Mess With Texas showcases were set to span three days and featured impressive rosters in both their day parties and their nighttime extravaganzas, with the venue shutting down midday.  There was an outdoor space buffeting the huge warehouse floor which was equipped with massive, pounding amps.  I don’t know if it’s just the necessity of drowning out all the bands other than the one you’re actually seeing, but I want to take a moment to note how extremely loud every single showcase I saw was.  I mean, I could feel my hair follicles vibrating at some of these shows.

I felt guilty for missing Tycho’s set the night before so I planted myself beneath the awning of the outdoor stage, determined not to miss these boys this time.  I was slightly disappointed, however, that due to the stage configuration the songs would not be accompanied by Scott Hansen’s gorgeous projections, which I’d been looking forward to seeing firsthand.  Even without the visuals, Tycho bathed the crowd in a lush soundscape.  Just as we settled into the dense, intoxicating layers, the speakers blew and silence fell.  Apparently this had  happened to Tycho earlier in the week, which only proves my assertion that no eardrum in Austin was safe from the incredible volume SXSW venues unleashed.  It didn’t take long for the band to get it together and the encouraging crowd didn’t seem to mind the temporary snafu, falling right back into the sway.  Despite the blazing sun beating on our shoulders, watching Tycho felt like being cleansed.  Atmospheric, breezy guitar tones moved across my skin, anchored in Zac Brown’s elastic bass chords and the sensual beats provided by drummer Rory O’Connor.  I let my vision blur out of focus, tilted my head back to the sky, and let the serene sounds saturate my senses.
Once Tycho’s set ended, I moved inside to escape the sun and (more importantly) to catch a few songs from indie darlings Girls.  The incredible stage set-up included four band members as well as a coterie of boisterous back-up singers who did double-duty hyping up the audience.  Flowers adorned the mic stands, reminiscent of so many altars and therefore drawing parallels between the players on stage and religious deities.  I’d never seen Girls play live, and quite honestly never understood all the hype behind what I considered to be pretty run-of-the-mill garage rock.  I know everyone is constantly losing their shit over the latest Girls releases, but for some reason none of the material ever really resonated with me.  I can’t say that a venue this cavernous and filled with questionably shirtless bros was the ideal introduction, but in terms of their playing I can at least begin to see what all the fuss is about.  There’s a compelling, vulnerable nature to the way Christopher Owens sings; this is true even at moments where the guitars burst explosively and the theatrics reach their greatest heights.  “Vomit”, the band’s signature single, was a perfect example of this phenomenon, as it erupted with particular ferocity and brought the adoring crowd to its knees.
At some point (the point at which I tried to buy an overpriced Heinekin) I realized I’d left my ID in the pocket of last night’s outfit.  Worried I would be denied entrance to any other showcases I tried to attend, I actually braved the crazy traffic to drive across town and retrieve it, hoping I’d make it back to the warehouse in time to see Cults.  I arrived about halfway through their set but was absolutely tickled with what I saw.  I’ve followed Cults since they began anonymously posting demos on bandcamp in the spring of 2010, but had somehow missed every single performance the Brooklyn-based band had played.  The set lived up to all my expectations.  It was sweltering inside the warehouse, the midday heat having turned it into an oven.  So it was hard to imagine how Brian Oblivion and Madeline Follin, both sporting hairdos that would made Cousin It look positively bald, held up under such intense temperatures.  But they seemed unfazed, running through favorites such as “Oh My God” “You Know What I Mean” and “Go Outside” with smiling faces and cutesy bopping.  Madeline’s vocals sounded sublime and the band perfectly replicated the 60’s girl group vibe that made their 2011 self-titled debut such a standout.
There was plenty on the menu in terms of shows that evening; Of Montreal and Deerhoof made one of a handful of what were probably noteworthy and fun appearances.  I would have loved to see Das Racist, Dirty Beaches, or Zola Jesus, for a second (or third) time, and I was dying to catch Cleveland noise pop outfit Cloud Nothings.  While all provided great options for ways to spend my second night in Austin, I could think of nothing but this: at the Belmont that evening, Jesus and Mary Chain were slated to perform around midnight.  In my obsession with getting into this packed, badge/wristband/ticket only show, I committed one of the cardinal sins of SXSW.  No band, no matter how rare or epic the appearance, no matter how important to you in terms of influence or admiration, should cause you to wait around in a huge line with no hope of entry into the venue, thus forgoing the chance to see any one of a number of other of bands; even if your secondary choices don’t compare to the actual experience of seeing the prolific band in question, almost anything is better than standing around waiting for nothing to happen and missing out on a host of other opportunities.  I did put in a brief appearance at 512 for Young Magic’s rooftop set, which was thrillingly luxurious.  A sumptuous rendition of “Night In The Ocean” featured reverb drenched male and female vocals twining around its incantatory chorus.  But I couldn’t get my mind off the possibility of seeing Jesus & Mary Chain.

After a few frantic texts, the idea of watching the show from the parking garage across the street was bandied about and that’s eventually where we found ourselves.  In all honesty, I was content with the set-up, as we had a perfect view of the stage and again, thanks to the punishing volume at which all venues set their amps, could hear Titus Andronicus’s set perfectly.  If I didn’t hold that band in such disdain I would have been nearly ecstatic, but I do totally think they’re overblown and pretentious and I was tired and still a little bummed, knowing that this was all a fool’s paradise.

Jesus & Mary Chain ripped through their first few numbers in a sonic blast that would have reached us even if our little perch had been blocks away rather than across the street.  Unfortunately, we saw all of about three songs before a group of crusty idiots totally blew our cover and got us promptly kicked out by a surly security guard.

Defeated and dejected, we trudged back to the Mess With Texas warehouse, where turntable.fm was hosting a slew of DJs in an elaborate promotion for the site, which allows users to DJ for their friends and random strangers alike in private chatrooms loosely based around a genre or theme.  When turntable.fm first launched I spent an amusing evening in one of these chat rooms with my roommates and some of their coworkers, as well as some friends of ours back in Ohio.  It seemed a novel way to share new tunes with old buddies, though my interest in doing so had since tapered off.  I wasn’t a high school sophomore anymore, you know?  I spend enough time in front of a computer as it is without haunting chat rooms, waiting for my chance to blow minds with some new Clams Casino track.  I decided to start a blog instead.
I’m not sure if many of the other attendees had had similar experiences with turntable.fm but if they had not, they were certainly introduced to its interface that evening.  Diplo stood center stage but was flanked by dancers shuffling around in over-sized Japanime-style animal heads meant to mimic the avatars available to users on turntable.fm.  There was also a table full of paper avatar masks right at the door, presumably for guests to wear as a means of creeping each other the fuck out.  Huge screens showed a cute little animated version of Diplo spinning.  It was kitschy and sort of fun, but also kind of over-the-top.  At SXSW you’re constantly being marketed to, and sometimes its nice to have things like the music to focus on to forget that.  Turntable.fm was not going to let you be distracted by a silly-old real-life DJ like Diplo.  Actually, I’m pretty sure the man has some kind of investment in the whole project, but still.
Diplo spun classics like MIA and Ginuwine and spent a lot of time getting an already rowdy crowd pumped up into a delirious craze.  I saw some truly raunchy dance moves and if I’d been a little drunker probably would have joined in, but I was still feeling like an idiot over the whole Jesus & Mary Chain debacle.  I vowed that Friday would be a day of redemption; I’d see so many bands my eyeballs would fall out of my skull.  I’d shake my tail feather furiously to Star Slinger and Neon Indian’s Hype Hotel DJ sets.  I’d reserve my energy tonight and tomorrow collapse from exhaustion if that was what it came down to.  Who was I kidding?  I’m getting older and was already a bit exhausted; I could feel a sore throat coming on.  No matter! I shouted bravely to myself.  These shows will go on, and I’m gonna try to see damn near all of them.
 

An introduction to me and the music I love

Before I start describing to you my impression of the past year in music and what I’m looking forward to in the coming months (a succinct way to give you a glimpse into what you, our reader, can expect from me), I’ll tell you a wee bit about myself.

I was born and raised in a small Midwesterntown like so many other Brooklyn transplants. My parents placed my hands onthe keys of a piano at the age of three, and the bow of a cello in my fingersat the age of nine. I’d like to think that music is in my blood, but I knowbetter—for instance, that the early influence of Handel’s “Water Music” inshaping my perception of the world, or the memory of watching,atop shoulders, my dad play reggae at a local summertime concert, has more todo with my love for music than what my blood may contain. Still, I get afunny feeling in my heart when I hear certain songs, as if something mightbe waking up…

Though I never became aspectacular musician, by anyone’s standard, I still play occasionally. Moreimportantly, however, I learned in playing music for my whole life, to keepopen ears to whatever might waft through the airwaves. Subsequently, music hasbecome sine qua non to the diversity of my experience in the world, especiallyas a young city dweller. Without live music (even if the sound sucks, or thevenue is sub par), without the excitement of anticipating the newest album fromone of my current favorites, and without the joy of stumbling upon someundiscovered new treasure of a band (or DJ, or subway busker for that matter),life would just sparkle so much less vibrantly. New York would be such a drag.

What you can expect from me, with that said, is straightforward descriptive musings about the things that move me, namely good music (and sometimes not so good music too). If what you want though, is pretentious self-impressed sounding pseudo-journalism, then, well, I can direct you toward a few good music blogs for that too. Oh, and I have a degree in International Economics…So you may get a few tangential rants here and there about the security of oil supplies pumped throughout the Caucasus and Middle East, blah blah blah…

Anyway please read-on and (hopefully) enjoy a few personal highlights from the past year in music along with forthcoming shows and albums that I’m anticipating will be amazing. Organized categorically of course–because who doesn’t love lists?

Best new band of 2011: Beacon

My favorite newbie from 2011 is by far the band Beacon, whom I discovered at the Brooklyn Electronic Music Festival thanks to my friend Jakub, who runs the label Moodgadget, to which they are signed. Comprised of Thomas Mullarney and Jacob Gossett, Beacon sounds like an amalgam of what I consider to be the best elements of R&B and electronic, respectively, with mellow, synthy keys, smooth falsetto vocals and layers upon layers of textured beats. Before you check out their newest EP, No Body–a luscious soundscape of tunes about life and love–, listen to their cover of “The Rip”, by Portishead. You can find it Here. And if you like it, check them out live on February 4th with Tycho, at Music Hall. Ms. Rhoades and I would love to see you there.

The album of 2011 I was most surprised I like: Suck It and See

When I heard the first song off the album Suck It and See, I thought to myself “I really like this. It must be some sort of new wave I don’t know of…Yeah, definitely from the 80’s…Is it House Of Love? Hmmm…No…”. I then glanced over the album cover, nearly falling off my chair in surprise, to find that it was the irascible gang of drunken, juvenile Brits themselves: The Arctic Monkeys.  They seem to have inexorably matured about ten years since, say, Favourite Worst Nightmare in 2007 (we all remember “Fluorescent Adolescent’s” jabby opening chorus line “you used to get it in your fishnets/ now you only get it in your nightdress”). And I like what they’ve become: still raucous, but a bit less self-pitying and a bit more circumspect, both sonically and emotionally (if the two can even be disentangled when it comes to music). Self-possession really does suit them, for instance in the “Black Treacle” lyric “now I’m out of place, and I’m not getting any wiser/ I feel like the Sundance Kid behind a synthesizer”. It sounds like a conundrum I’ve found myself in too, these days. And bravo, Arctic Monkeys, for being all the more perspicacious in actually admitting to it.

Best girl anthem of 2011 that feels like a throwback: “Sadness Is A Blessing”

Lykke Li’s “Sadness Is A Blessing”, from Wounded Rhymes pretty much sums up my teenage years. And I’m sure had she been around in the 90’s, I would have most certainly been dressing and acting just like her. The opening chords are an immediate reference to all the 60’s girl groups whom I love, with a catchy I-IV-V key progression. Then comes Lykke’s raspy, unapologetic plea to some heartbreaker out there, to come back to her, in spite of her . Alas to no avail, she resolves herself to the infinite sorrow that awaits her in his absence. It’s a  beautifully haunting song that seems to capture every decade of pop since the 50’s. It shows that women creating incredible music about how much it sucks to be love-sick is a motif that transcends space and time.

Best Album of 2011 by a girl-led band, that can even begin to compete with Body Talk by Robyn: Ritual Union, Little Dragon

All of those who know me know that I would cross the street to tell a stranger how much I love Robyn. Body Talk may actually be one of my favorite albums of all time. With that said, when I heard Ritual Union–the newest  from Little Dragon, I was pretty damn excited to have found what I consider to be a futuristic iteration of everything I like about everything Robyn’s ever done. Whew. Ok, enough hyperbole for you? Yeah, me too. Anyway, Ritual Union is an album full of pulsating dance beats featuring heavy snare, combined with smooth synthetic bass lines and of course, Yukimi Nagano’s beautiful, sultry voice. And while I don’t have it on repeat or anything, it’s perfect to play at the end of the night, when all your dinner guests have had a bit too much to drink, and some of them want to get stoned at sit on the couch while others just really need to have a freaky dance party .

Best album of 2011 that almost makes me like Bob Dylan: Slave Ambient, The War On Drugs

I had heard Slave Ambient several times over the past months and didn’t think too much of it, considering all the attendant hype. However, after listening to a few of their terrific live performances on NPR’s “Sound Check”, I decided to revisit it and see if there was something I had been missing. And ok, fair enough, they’re pretty damn good. The songs do accompany arcane, poetic lyrics sung by a raspy-voiced front man, with a shit-ton of folky guitar melodies. This in and of itself makes them (to me) start to sound an awful lot like Bob Dylan tunes. I can’t really help it. And for those of you who know me know I would cross the street to tell some girl’s expensively-groomed chihuahua that I don’t like Bob Dylan.  But here’s the difference: each instrument including the vocals has reverb applied, as well as any handful of cool effects. This little aspect manages to transform each track from derivative (at best) into luscious, ambient and original. Amazing what a bit of creative thinking can do, no?

Best Album of 2011, Period: Year of Hibernation, (Youth Lagoon), tied with  Father, Son, Holy Ghost, (Girls)

So this was really, really challenging. It’s basically like having to choose your favorite kid (not that I have any, but I imagine it would be an equally difficult task ). Anyway, upon much deliberation I decided to narrow it down to two. And I challenge any music lover to try and do better than that.

Ok, so first, Youth Lagoon: Who knew that some kid making songs in his bedroom would have such a substantial impact on the world of indie rock. And what makes these songs great is not that they are innovative, as is the case with much of the incredible Garage Band-made music these days, but rather the ways in which they sound like something you’ve heard a million times but can’t quite pin down. They’re nostalgically psychedelic, but simple and quiet at the same time. Trevor Powers’ voice is thin but powerfully resonate. The melodies are pedestrian but unique. The lyrics are about a childhood we can all relate to; yet somehow his words still give me pause. Every time I listen to Year Of Hibernation, I discover something new about the songs. They will put me simultaneously in a good and bad mood. And that, my dear friends, is one illustrious feat.

It’s rare that a band’s sophomore album actually surpasses their debut, but Father, Son, Holy Ghost manages it somehow, although I’m sure there are plenty of folks out there who would disagree with me. The songs range from excruciatingly slow guitar ballads to Beatles-esque jingles, which is a wide spectrum to cover, and speaks loudly to the band’s versatility. Christopher Owens is a pretty self-aware dude (being a Children Of God escapee and all), and he wears is heart on his sleeve, evident in lyrics such as “They don’t like my boney body/ They don’t like my dirty hair/ Or the stuff that I say, or the stuff that I’m on”, from “Honey Bunny”, which is a track that perfectly encapsulates the band’s sound: upbeat classic rock ‘n roll, underpinned by dark moody intimations (think Beck’s “Sun Eyed Girl”).  And this little fact alone will keep me coming back to these songs again and again, probably forever.

Runners up: Unluck (James Blake),  Hurry Up We’re Dreaming (M83)

 

Well, clearly I could go on ad infinitum about  2011, but I figured I should leave the past where it belongs, and instead look toward what awaits us right around the proverbial corner. I’ll list a few albums about which I’m “stoked” (as they say in left coast vernacular), and then sign off, for now, with a lineup of shows I hope to attend. Who knows, maybe we can catch a few together…
xxo
Annie

Albums I can’t wait for:
Mark Lanegan Band, February 6

Die Antwoord, February 7

Sleigh Bells, February 21

School Of Seven Bells, February 28

Bruce Springsteen, March 5

Spiritualized, March 19

Choir of Young Believers, March 20

Where to track us down these days:

01.25 Lucinda Black Bear, Union Pool
01.31 Blouse, 285 Kent
02.02 Thurston Moore, Lincoln Center, Allen Room
02.04 Tycho, Beacon, Music Hall Of Williamsburg
02.07 Mark Lanegan Band, Bowery Ballroom
02.11 Dum Dum Girls, Maxwell’s
02.11 The Kills, Terminal 5
02.14 Lily and the Parlour Tricks, The Bowery Electric
02.25 Sharon Van Etten, Bowery Ballroom