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2010-09-14T01:14:00.002-04:00

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Take Cover: Meet Me In A Pillar of Fire

2010-08-31T09:23:00.000-04:00

The Tallest Man on Earth w/ his fiancee, Amanda
"I'll Be Glad" (Bonnie Prince Billy)

If this doesn't melt your heart into a big bleeding mess, you don't have one to begin with. They're so in love! And adorable. And talented.

And who knew BPB aka Will Oldham's close-to-gospel song could be turned into the loveliest love song? It's a far jump from his pathologically loaded (though stunning) funeral dirges. (He's been covered pretty notably before, too.) Check out the original "I'll Be Glad" here, the organ is super nice.

-- Caroline Klibanoff

Recap: Solid Sound Festival

2010-08-30T10:45:00.000-04:00

Large silver letters spelling out “MASS MoCA” usually tower above the contemporary art museum in North Adams, Massachusetts, but on August 13^th, even larger orange letters were fastened in front, declaring that the take-over had begun. From the signs along Route 2, to an announcement board outside the community center advertising a pancake breakfast and welcoming “Wil Fans,” to countless other local businesses hanging signs greeting the Chicago-based band and its fans, anywhere you looked, it was hard to miss that Wilco and its Solid Sound Festival had taken over this small city in the Berkshires for the weekend.

And let’s just say if your city must be taken over by a musical act, Wilco are benevolent overlords. Amenities included bike valets, free parking (with enough security to ensure no Ryan Adams fans—or actual Ryan Adams—took bats to your windshield), shuttles to and from the lots and free refills on water. No overpriced, reheated festival food here; instead Berkshire-based vendors offered chicken tikka masala, varieties of samosas, handmade ice cream and locally brewed beer. Families brought younger children for free; parents enjoyed morning yoga while their kids took in puppet shows. The band handpicked the lineup of artists and comedians and assembled their own exhibits. Make no mistake, this weekend was about Wilco—but if you were down with worshiping at the temple of Tweedy, the inaugural Solid Sound Festival was a breath of fresh air after a summer full of sweaty mobs navigating venues as crowded as the schedules.

Arriving early, we decided to check out the exhibits. After wandering the maze of MASS MoCA’s 14-acre refurbished industrial complex with no help from our map (seriously: aesthetically pleasing, but graphic designers are not cartographers, Jeff Tweedy), we stumbled into Sol Lewitt’s Wall Drawing Retrospective. Inside the vertigo-inducing walls hung Glenn Kotche’s Interactive Drum Heads exhibit. Passersby tinkered with the unique additions to the drums, unleashing echoes of haphazard percussion—which the Solid Sound volunteer manning the room must have appreciated. Although, no one had it worse than the staff assigned to the cavernous space housing Nels Cline’s Stompbox exhibit. Groups huddled around stacks of lunchbox amps connected to a smorgasbord of effect pedals, flicking switches and shifting EQ sliders, trying to detect changes in the deafening drone. Happier staffers kept watch over Pat Sansone’s room of Polaroids and the hallway of silk-screen concert posters from Wilco’s past.

In addition to contributing exhibits, the individual members got time to showcase their side projects. It began with Pronto. Keyboardist Mikael Jorgensen led his group in pleasant piano-driven pop, ranging from easy-going to edgy, recalling moments like “Hummingbird” or “You Never Know.” Bassist John Stirratt and multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone indulged the audience with the hazy, 70s soft rock harmonies (Sky Blue Sky, anyone?) of The Autumn Defense. Drummer Glenn Kotche and Darin Gray of On Fillmore traded duck calls before launching into eerie and experimental percussion and bass numbers that culminated in Kotche nearly decapitating a woman with a thunder tube. To watch Glenn go all out is to realize how vital his more subtle, unconventional beat-keeping is to Wilco’s sound. Finally came the Nels Cline Singers, which unfortunately is not an acapella group for tall men in short pants but an avant-garde jazz ensemble—yeah, I don’t even know. But what I do know, being familiar with the noise-outro of “Less Than You Think” and the guitar freak outs on “Spiders (Kidsmoke),” is that as I watched Nels wail with furious technical precision on his guitar and masterfully fiddle with electronics, it was not hard to imagine exactly where Jeff Tweedy saw Cline fitting in when he joined Wilco post-A Ghost Is Born.

All of these sounds converged on Saturday night as Wilco took the stage, managing to pack a lively performance of 30 songs into 2 and ½ hours. Mixed in with charged performances of live staples were some rarities including Yankee Hotel Foxtrot demo throwbacks like “Not For The Season,” “A Magazine Called Sunset” and “Cars Can’t Escape.” The audience came through on the “Jesus, Etc.” sing-along, which an impressed Tweedy ranked in “maybe the Top 2.” The band ended the main set on a strange note, playing the bittersweet “On and On and On” with Tweedy sans guitar, but soon returned with an upbeat four-song encore ending in a rousing rendition of “Hoodoo Voodoo.”

But it’s kind of an exercise in narcissism to throw a festival all for yourself, so the band brought some friends along, too. We were treated to the sweet harmonies of Burlington-based Mountain Man, the finger-picking goodness of Sir Richard Bishop, and the jam band groove of Vetiver. Crowds vibed to sample-happy hometown heroes, The Books, and indie newcomers like Brenda and Avi Buffalo alike. But the real crown jewel of the lineup was Gospel legend Mavis Staples. In addition to old standards, the 71-year-old icon belted CCR’s “Wrote A Song For Everyone” and The Band’s “The Weight.” Jeff Tweedy even joined her on stage for the title-track of her newest album, “You Are Not Alone.”

Mavis wasn’t the only act to share the stage with the Wilco frontman. On rainy Sunday evening, Jeff Tweedy was putting on a charming solo performance in which he engaged in his favorite activities: singing and goading audience members—offenses included laughing at a bum note in “Muzzle of Bees,” being unprepared to back-up whistle on Loose Fur’s “The Ruling Class,” and being too knowledgeable on the capo placement for Uncle Tupelo’s “New Madrid” (“That’s a desperate cry for help”). Although he refused requests to cover “Single Ladies” again, he broke out affecting covers of Bob Dylan’s “Simple Twist of Fate” and “So Much Wine” by The Handsome Family.

But my favorite cover of the evening (and one of my favorite moments of the whole festival) came as he welcomed the young Avi Buffalo to the stage for a cover of “Look Out For My Love.” I stood there thinking that I could only dream of achieving the same level of musical idolatry nirvana that the visibly nervous Avigdor Zahner-Isenberg must have been experiencing if, well, Jeff Tweedy brought me on stage to duet to a Neil Young song. Other guests included Nick Zammuto of The Books crooning “Ingrid Bergman,” Scott McCaughey of Minus 5 joining in for “The Family Gardener” off Down With Wilco, and Nels Cline on lap steel guitar for a rare and stunning “Dash 7.”

After promising more friends, Tweedy returned with The Autumn Defense and Nels Cline, relinquishing lead to John Stirratt on “It’s Just That Simple.” Adding Mikael Jorgensen to the mix, Wilco minus Glenn Kotche (who was expecting a baby “any minute—well, hopefully not any minute” and had understandably left) gleefully stumbled through the drunken “Passenger Side,” ending on a folky take of “Outta Mind (Outta Sight)” with Tweedy appropriately barking “Look out, here I come again / and I’m bringing my friends!” And with that, the festival was over. The band waved goodbye, and Tweedy shouted a promising “See you next year!” as he left the stage.

It was easy to forget that I shared this experience with a crowd of 2,000 to 5,000 others. Under the (mostly) sky blue skies of the Berkshires, everything seemed relaxed and intimate. It was the kind of atmosphere in which it wasn’t strange to run into John Stirratt taking in the sounds of the Deep Blue Organ Trio in front of the beer tent or to see Nels Cline towering above the crowd awaiting Pronto. It seemed perfectly normal to bump into Mikael Jorgensen mid-bite into your hot dog or for your friend to mistake Pat Sansone for a tour guide and block him in line for the sugar. And there was nothing out of the ordinary about having Glenn Kotche hold the door for you right after Wilco rocked the main stage or about spotting Jeff Tweedy perched atop a dunk tank in that ugly nudie suit he wore on the cover of SPIN. It was their festival, after all—and I think I'm not alone in hoping that they’ll return to North Adams again next summer to continue their reign.

-- Catherine DeGennaro

SummaJamz Part Two

2010-08-27T10:09:00.000-04:00

Last week, I got an email with a subject line containing simply: "F You."

From Cee-Lo Green.

Normally I'd be offended, but after clicking through to the song included in the email, I found a diamond in the rough, if the rough is email spam and the diamond is this super sweet summer dancey jam groove by Green himself, who already won me over a few months ago with "Georgia."
This is even better. I was sold when I heard "Bein' in love with your ass ain't cheap, I pity the fool that falls in love with you." (And later: "Ooh, I really hate your ass right now.") Cee-Lo is on fire here, with old-school brass horns and a hooky chorus consisting of "Fuck you, fuck you," giving some snarky undeserving girl and her new boyfriend the BOOT.

Anyway, here's a much-needed roundup of some other summer jams, continuing from Part One earlier this summer. Check out the playlist below and let us know what your favorites are, and what we left off!

1. Robyn - Cry When You Get Older
Guess we missed this the first time around, because this song has been out for a while. Still it makes for an arching, beat-heavy, ass-kicking song. And she's got some lyrical prowess too: "Back in suburbia kids get high and make out on the train / and this incomprehensible boredom takes a hold again."

2. Nelly - Just a Dream
I realize not everyone is as mindblowingly excited for Nelly's upcoming release as I am (and this single is no Dilemma or Country Grammar, believe me). But that doesn't stop the inevitability of this song dominating Top 40 radio this fall. It's kind of sad, though, thematically! But whatever, as soon as the bass drops about 21 seconds in, you'll be too busy dancing to care. Definitely a capital-J Jam.

3. Andre 3000 - I Do (leaked)
Remember when Andre's verses were the strongest unreleased cuts off the Big Boi record? And how he drops these absolutely killer verses like they mean nothing to him, all the time? He's smart and it shows here: "And maybe 2030 our baby she'll be nerdy, make the whole club swoon."

4. Best Coast, Kid Cudi, Rostam Batmanglij - All Summer
This also came out a while ago, before Best Coast blew up, and it's a great lineup of voices: Cudi sounds super laid back and carries the track, while Best Coast's clean melody on the chorus makes this hook, line, and sinker a full-on lovable song perfect for summer.

5. Arcade Fire - Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)
Though we've given this album a lot of credit already here, this track is exuberant enough to separate from the rest of the concept-album and cross over to keep company among the four songs listed already - an impressive feat for an indie band, but not a surprising one for a band that sells out arena tours and performs on the Daily Show.

Review: Sia, We Are Born

2010-08-26T11:01:00.000-04:00

Sia

We Are Born

3/4 Hand Claps

As far as I’m concerned, and take my expertise as you will, Sia is a master of both emotionally reflective songs, like the ones used at heart-string tugging scenes in Grey’s Anatomy, and the upbeat sassy song that makes you want to dance in front of your mirror as you get dressed.

The majority of the songs off her new album, We Are Born, fit into the upbeat music category. Carried through almost all these songs is a clap-along-to beat. The album starts strongly with the track, “The Fight.” It does seem to be a sort of rallying song with her soaring vocals calling one and all to join the fight. That song sets the tone for the rest of the album. Percussion that sounds as though it was spontaneously created by tapping nearby objects carries the listener through the album.

Like with her previous work, Sia creates a sound that you won’t find elsewhere. (After all, her last album was called Some People Have Real Problems and had this album cover) Her unique voice makes her upbeat songs sound powerful and sassy, while lending a haunting and emotional sound to her slower songs. She writes creative, but at the same time, raw lyrics. While the music sounds quirky, the lyrics are bold and straightforward. The words are sung directly, as if the person she is trying to communicate with is in the room. They are also real and explore the trials of humanity that we all face, as “we are born.” She sings with an authority that makes you want to follow her beliefs.

Only a few exceptions to this upbeat pop music appear on this album. However, when they do, they hit the bottom of your stomach like a stone. Her voice, at times self-assured, switches to being quite delicate and vulnerable. She pleads, and reveals, and sounds pure – so pure it sound a bit familiar at time.

Standout Tracks: The Fight, You’ve Changed, Be Good To Me, Never Gonna Leave Me, Cloud, and Oh Father

-- Kaitlin Carano

The Dog Days Are Over: A Fall Music Preview

2010-08-25T10:15:00.000-04:00

The proverbial dog days of summer are fading away, as we prepare to head back into the routine that fall brings. We’ve enjoyed our days at the beach, nights out, and the feeling of the breeze rustling our hair as we cruise around with nothing to do. So, as we say farewell to another summer come and gone, let’s look ahead to some of the great music that will get us through the next season.
-- Jared Iversen

Ra Ra Riot – The Orchard – August 24^th

The Syracuse-based band (don’t hold it against them) will offer up more of their orchestral pop on the follow up to their critically acclaimed debut album. This isn’t really a fall release, but I missed it on the Summer Music Preview, and it’s supposed to be “so poppy you will want to throw up on yourself” (in a good way, I’m assuming). And seeing as it was produced and mixed by members of Death Cab for Cutie and Vampire Weekend, that is entirely possible. Listen to the single (and other tracks from the album) and decide for yourself.

The Walkmen – Lisbon – September 14^th

Indie rock veterans The Walkmen will release their sixth studio album next month. The record’s title and Romantic spirit were inspired by the band’s trips to the Portuguese capital city, which spurred the writing of nearly 30 songs (11 of which found their place on this album). The lead single, Stranded, features regal horns and Hamilton Leithauser’s distinguished whine, and creates a perfect cocoon of sound, with just the right dose of melancholy and nostalgia, to get you through those early days of fall.

Of Montreal – False Priest – September 14^th

The always strange and interesting Athens, Georgia band will release their tenth studio album next month. The upcoming LP features hip-hop sensation Janelle Monae, who they are currently touring with to promote the album. The two singles indicate the record will have more of the band’s signature funky and danceable pop. And the album cover is pretty sweet.

Deerhunter – Halcyon Digest – September 28^th

The fourth album from Bradford Cox’s band is a concept album of sorts about “the way that we write and rewrite and edit our memories to be a digest version of what we want to remember, and how that's kind of sad.” The album was produced and mixed by Ben Allen, who also worked on Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion, and, despite the more guitar based sound of the album’s pleasant single, this suggests there should be more brilliant ambient, psych-pop on the way. This album cover is just creepy though.

Girls – TBA - TBA

Last year, San Francisco beach rockers Girls released their debut album, quickly becoming to the indie world what Justin Bieber is to 12 year old girls. In a recent interview, front man Christopher Owens revealed that a new Girls album would be released “sometime in the fall.” There’s not too many deets at the moment, but for now check out this new song in which Owens shows a much softer side.

Kid Cudi – Man On The Moon II: The Legend of Mr. Rager - October 26^th

KiD CuDi is dropping the sequel to his debut album, Man on the Moon: The End of Day, in October, saying it will bring “you into [his] reality, good and bad.” The rapper’s brand of electronic hip-hop will likely provide one or two songs that will become staples at Village A parties this fall. Until then, listen to the official single (featuring Kanyeezee) and a couple other tracks, and cop his latest mixtape.

Nelly – Nelly 5.0 – November 16^th

We finally have an answer to the question everyone has been asking (mainly just Caroline) – what happened to Nelly? The St. Louis rapper hasn’t had a hit song since 2005, when Facebook still required an invitation to join and Twitter wasn’t even invented (you know, the good old days), and seemingly dropped off the grid for the second half of the decade. The man who kicked off the new millennium with classics like “Country Grammar,” “Ride Wit Me,” and “Hot in Herre” appears to be making a comeback, with the release of his sixth studio album. Listen to the single and get ready to shake ya tailfeather.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. - TBA- TBA

This ectro-folk-psych-pop duo is the best thing to be associated with NASCAR since, umm, ever (except for maybe this, and probably this, ok and definitely this). According to their MySpace, the debut album will be out in the fall, but in the meantime check out their painfully catchy Horse Power EP, which features a cover of The Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" (Do I smell/hear a feature on Take Cover?).

Kanye West – Dark Twisted Fantasy – November

Speaking of comebacks, ladies and gentlemen, Kanye West is back. It seems the enigmatic rapper has abandoned the abhorrent auto tune that was featured prominently on his last album, the emo dud 808’s and Heartbreak, and has returned to form. He recently joined the web’s most popular narcissistic outlet, and has shown no signs of checking his ego when discussing the new album either, comparing it to the “masterwork” of “Michelangelo, Picasso, [and] the pyramids.” He says his goal is to reach “that Avatar level,” but let’s hope he doesn’t substitute substance for some glitzy gimmick. Then again, glitzy gimmicks are what ‘Ye does best. As if that’s not enough, it has been confirmed that he flew Justin Vernon (of Bon Iver) out to his studio in Hawaii to lay down vocals for “at least 10 songs!” While I can confidently say this album won’t actually compare to this or this or this, Kanye appears to be as motivated and cocky as ever, and that is a very good thing. Check out the single and a leaked track.

Other releases to be on the lookout for:

Fleet Foxes are supposed to release their sophomore album around “stocking-stuffer” time

(You’re my boy) Blu is slated to drop his album NoYork! this yea.

And of course there’s always the possibility of a new Radiohead album...

Take Cover: Papa Literally Has a Brand New Bag.

2010-08-24T10:02:00.003-04:00

Tom Waits, "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag" (James Brown)

I have written this column now six times, for this week, and each time I find something better to top the last cover and so have to write it all over again and postpone whatever I had written for a future week, but then there's always the chance that the postponed cover becomes either horribly irrelevant (the internet age is fast, you know) or becomes like a viral video and becomes so relevant that I'm the last person to write about it (the internet age is fast, you know!)

I am overlooking no less than Macy Gray killin' the Arcade Fire, Fever Ray covering Peter Gabriel (really well), Mavis Staples covering CCR (come on), Rage Against the Machine covering Dylan (killing me) and the force-of-nature buzz band Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. actually doing justice to the sun-kissed harmonies of The Beach Boys (I am dead). Finally there was the North Carolina A&T Marching Band covering the instant classic Bed Intruder Song (why?!) that put me over the top. (Thanks for the tips Fiona, Ben, Jared.)

But this is simply the best of all possible worlds. I mean it this time. Classics on classics. Kings on Kings. Listen up.

--Caroline Klibanoff

Artist of the Week: Dawes

2010-08-23T10:01:00.001-04:00

Artist of the Week: Dawes

I stumbled upon Dawes, a four-piece band from Los, Angeles, at this year’s Newport Folk Festival, and I was instantly taken with their endearing folk rock. Hailing from the renowned Laurel Canyon region of California, they don’t shy away from their influences, infusing the warm harmonies of CSNY and the comforting melodies of The Band into their familiar sound. What really set these guys apart though are the lyrics, inspired and poetic, yet somehow instantly germane and deeply human. They’re debut album, North Hills, came out last summer, and it is a compelling collection of Americana songs that show a remarkable maturity for a few guys in their early twenties.

-- Jared Iversen

Listen to a few tracks below:

Dawes & The Morning Benders "When My Time Comes" from Yours Truly on Vimeo.

Review: Big Boi, Sir Lucious Left Foot

2010-08-20T10:59:00.005-04:00

Big Boi
Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty
9.5/10

I’m going to cut straight to the chase: Big Boi’s debut solo album, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty, is dope! No questions asked. I must admit that over the last few years I have pretty much been a hater of most new music released under the ‘hip-hop’ genre. This is due in part to my love-hate relationships with both T-Pain (it’s hard for me to continuously hate his music after he joined forces with Andy Samberg for “I'm On a Boat”) and Lil Wayne, coupled with my complete and utter dislike of artists such as Gucci Mane and Bangs. Over the course of these past few summer months, I have tried to mentally accept that the music industry is changing; genre roles are changing and therefore, hip-hop must also change. And, although I do miss the innovative styles of such artists as Eric B. & Rakim and De La Soul, not all of the hip-hop artists today are complete crap. Actually, some of them are pretty damn amazing.

I first heard Big Boi rapping on Southerplayalisticadillacmuzik as part of the duo OutKast. This album dropped in 1994 and I distinctly remember little ol’ me sitting in the back seat of the car as my older cousin drove around Chicago with this album on full blast. By the time Stankonia dropped in 2000 I was finally old enough to seek out the album myself and sing along to the lyrics whenever I was clear of adults. At this time I knew very little about production quality or lyrical flow and judged music solely based on the beat. It’s now 2010, I’m older, wiser and I have become a hell of a lot better at distinguishing albums that I will blast for a season then quickly forget from those that I believe represent true artistry.

I can’t get enough of Sir Lucious Left Foot. Big Boi has definitely been able to hold his own both as part of Outkast and as a solo artist. Despite doubts as to his potential success releasing a full solo album not accompanied by Andre 3000 (Speakerboxx was released with Andre 3000’s The Love Below so it doesn’t count in this instance) Big Boi has proven to be a definite innovator in the music industry. Maintaining the oh-so-precise calculations of production Outkast was so well-known for, Big Boi serves listeners with back to back dope tracks. He spits ill rhymes that had me continuously saying to myself, “Oh snap, he said that”. My top four tracks off the fifteen-track album are “Follow Us ft. Vonnegut”, “Shutterbug ft. Cutty”, “Hustle Blood ft. Jamie Foxx,” and “Fo Yo Sorrows ft. George Clinton, Too Short and Sam Chris”. Some of the tracks are slow jams while others remind me of summer parties back home but all fit together so perfectly that I enjoy listening straight through the album. If you have not yet listened to Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty I highly, highly, highly, recommend you do so. And soon. I for one will definitely be rocking this album for seasons to come.

Disclaimer: I would have given the album 10/10 but I had to deduct points for Gucci Mane’s presence on the track “Shine Blockas” (Gucci’s voice is a drone but the track otherwise is pretty awesome).

-- Dominique Barron

Review: Various Artists, Twilight: Eclipse Official Soundtrack

2010-08-19T11:00:00.000-04:00

Various Artists
Twilight: Eclipse (Original Soundtrack)
B (Twilight: Eclipse, as a movie: F--)

I don't know where to begin on why I hate Twilight so, so much. There's just too much to hate. But then again, this is not a literary blog, or a vampire blog, or a Teen Korner blog, this is a blog about music. And the Twilight: Eclipse Official Soundtrack makes me forgive Twilight a tiny, almost insignificant bit for making the world so much worse. The Twilight movie saga has set a strange reputation for itself by roping in more and more (previously?) respectable indie bands to create and collaborate on original tracks for the movie soundtracks--a moneymaking scheme, no doubt, but one I finally agree with.

As this is the easiest way to go about a "Various Artists" album, I'll run through the best and worst tracks artist-by-artist. Metric's track "Eclipse - All Yours" is decent at best--there's no denying Emily Haines is a golden god no matter what she attempts, but the song just falls flat. As an aside, who is Sia? Did I miss something? What is that name? Wasn't there that one song everybody put on their angsty mixtapes for a while? Anyway, "My Love" is utter twee, but movies need those moments just like we do (unless we're robots). I'd never heard Cee-Lo on his own before (which isn't a surprise, if you look at his utterly impressive list of collaborations), but "What Part of Forever" made me curious for more.

As for the real highlights--the Black Keys track "Chop and Change" is gritty, gritty gold with epic movie potential (does the beginning remind anyone else of Inception?). Good work on two great tracks from Bombay Bicycle Club ("How Can You Swallow So Much") and Battles ("The Line"), Twilight producers, you've truly upped your ante with some indie heft. There's a Beck* and Bat for Lashes collaboration--a track I at first thought might turn out like Converse's first and second round of summer jams (read: really, really high expectations thanks to a dream team collab coupled with a really, really mediocre turnout). "Let's Get Lost" actually turned out great, to be honest--the two utterly different respective vocal styles melded together perfectly.

Finally--as per usual, I've saved the best for last, only because everything else pales in comparison to Florence + the Machine's "Heavy in Your Arms." I've said it before, but I'll say it again, I get depth overcharge when it comes to this band. "Heavy in Your Arms" is thundering, epic, utterly mind-blowing--and oh, the funniest, cruelest joke, it's not actually in the movie--it's not even the first song as the credits roll, to add insult to injury, it's the second. Which is, I suppose, in a roundabout way best, because if the scene this song was slated for was not the most epic, rousing battle scene in the movie, then it's probably best it was cut altogether. Because, in the end, the whole movie (Kristen Stewart-the-Worst included) should have been cut as a scene, leaving only this decent soundtrack behind it.

Up next for the Twilight movie soundtracks? One mega-collaboration track with every artist on the album contributing to the same song--a la "We Are The World."

*Hang on, I just realized that Beck's Top 8 Myspace Friends are all Greek Philosophers? Points? So many points!

--Fiona Hanly

Review: Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, Let it Sway

2010-08-18T10:00:00.005-04:00

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin

Let it Sway

7.8/10

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin creates tantric pop. They are able to identify that climactic moment in a pop song, that fleeting micro-second that saves pop music from the over saturation by the Biebers in the world. Upon identifying it, though, they exploit it. They dissect that one instant into minutes. Stretching it out over repeating riffs and building handclaps they let us experience that perfect moment for longer than we ought to. And it feels pretty good.

Let it Sway is the third release from Springfield, MO pop quartet Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin. They recruited heavy-weight Chris Walla (of Death Cab For Cutie) to help with the production and mixing, and though Walla's influence is definitely noticeable in the album's aesthetic, the arrangements of the tracks shows a return to the patience that gave Broom, the band's first release, its rich texture.

I'm always impressed with SSLYBY's comfort and self-confidence. They seem OK with being a pop group. With any other group, this may equate to an eventual staleness, or at least a plateau, but SSLYBY is able to thrive in the space they've created for themselves because their songs are rides. They know that the strength of their songs comes in the arrangements- and while the expertise of a good producer or mixer can help- unless their arrangements are interesting and captivating no amount of Pro Tools is going to help.

In Broom the rides were slow, piping, wooden structures with tedious build ups and slow releases (I'm thinking of, "I am Warm and Powerful"). In Let it Sway the rides are much more chaotic. There are peaks and valleys- songs will burst into a flury of punchy guitars and fall just as sharply into a quiet breakdown and acoustic guitar. This dynamic is the salvation that pop bands need, and the push pull (Sink/Sway?) that SSLYBY creates is instrumental to this albums success.

Its immediately evident that they're more comfortable opening things up a bit with their sound as well. "All Hail Dracula!" opens with drone worthy of A Ghost is Born. "In Pairs," has a menacing pair of its voice as a second vocal track harasses the first in a mocking echo. The seamless transition into, "My Terrible Personality" is masterfully pulled off. Their ability to tweak the periphery of their songs without damaging its core shows a maturity that was unfortunately absent for parts of Pershing.

The best moment in Pershing, though, was the last track, 'Heers.' It was a huge step for the band, and again on Let it Sway the closer is truly a beautiful moment. In a simplicity that both inspires and awakens: "Nothing's made to last these days, But I'm gonna be by you until my last day." It's neither blissfully unaware and oversimplified, nor is it annoyingly hyper-literate. It just is.

Lyrically, the album demonstrates a self-confidence. As a band, SSLYBY thinks that their time has come, "I just wanna show you what I know, I know its right." They don't want to be the sole providers in this game anymore, "When you gonna shake off those new legs? I need you to be strong." SSLYBY has given a lot. If there is any word that doesn't describe the band, it's, 'lazy.' They've shown that they care immensely about every moment on their album, and they think that you should too. Can you blame them?

-Igor German

Take Cover: The Roots of Rock 'N' Roll

2010-08-17T14:30:00.001-04:00

The Tallest Man on Earth, "My Journey to the Sky" (Sister Rosetta Tharpe)

If you don't know Sister Rosetta Tharpe and think that Jimi Hendrix or even Chuck Berry or even Little Richard originated rock 'n' roll guitar playing, you better get acquainted quick, because the lightyears-ahead-of-her-time Tharpe, a gospel singer in the 1940s, is the reigning queen of the instrument and entire generations of musicians owe her a debt.

A Philadelphia gospel singer raised in the Pentecostal church, Tharpe's self-taught guitar playing was at the forefront of her whole performance at a time when the electric guitar was considered controversial in the church. In addition to her powerful, throaty voice, Tharpe manipulated the instrument like it was an extension of her own body, playing blues solos and rhythm with an ease and confidence that a whole lot of modern artists can't hold a candle to. She invented the windmill arm swing (Pete Townshend, you're welcome) and played perfect bluesy solos with flying fingers, all while lifting that big, big voice to the Lord.

Oh, and the Tallest Man on Earth recently did a really lovely cover of her song "My Journey To The Sky" at the Pitchfork Music Festival, a gentle acoustic version that is quite moving in its sincerity and simplicity. His voice sounds better than ever here; I just wish the song was longer.

Watch two killer performances by Tharpe herself after the jump.

-- Caroline Klibanoff

Up Above My Head (my favorite) :

Didn't It Rain:

Review: Jaill, That's How We Burn

2010-08-17T09:02:00.000-04:00

Jaill

That’s How We Burn

3 mustaches out of 4 (actual band statistics: 2/4)

Michael Chabon, musing on the possibility of a totally original novel, said that “All novels are sequels; influence is bliss.” The same is true in the world of music. This review will not be able to tell you whether or not Jaill’s new album sounds like The Soft Pack has a crush on XTC, or of what it is “reminiscent.” Nor will it contain a lengthy analysis (with spreadsheets and percentages) that charts the band’s influences from their toddler days, when they were big into Raffi to their teenage years spent idolizing Joe Strummer. This review is, in fact, significantly more concerned with how the name of the band is pronounced (I alternately envision the word ‘jail’ pronounced with a Southern drawl or a Jamaican saying ‘ja! ill!’) and the fact that one of the members is named Ryan Adams.

Regardless of influence, what sets this album (and any other) apart is what Jaill does differently from others who have come before. Sure, Jaill may not fully be the “psych-pop” band that they envision themselves to be, but they still know how to throw together some slick, catchy tunes. The guitar lick on the deliciously upbeat ‘Everyone is Hip’ is utterly irresistible. The sardonically titled ‘How’s the Grave?’ sports some quite fun guitar solos and ‘Baby I’, though a bit slower, has an equally catchy hook. Sure, ‘Snake Shakes,’ and ‘She’s My Baby” could have just as easily come from an early Shins album, but then again, you would never find Mercer and company crafting a song like ‘The Stroller,’ the most “psych-pop” song to be found here. The album does have a few duller moments, and it is clear that Jaill are at their best when they are rocking out, keeping things upbeat and tight, and surfing easily through pure pop riffs. Still, when all is said and done, That’s How We Burn would be a pleasant addition to any summer rotation.

-- Mark Waterman

Mystery Train: Requiem For A King

2010-08-16T10:15:00.019-04:00

Today marks the anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. It’s been 33 years since he died rather famously, the stuff of legend, at age 42.

I have met people that have never listened to Elvis. This astonishes me, though perhaps it shouldn’t; his music can seem dated today, his story told and re-told so many times it’s now less like a legend of rock ‘n’ roll than a tired old movie plot rehashed again and again. It becomes one of those snoozefest tales your dad tells you while he’s driving somewhere and you’re literally subject to his will and his memory, trapped as you are in the front passenger seat by a seatbelt and the car’s velocity.

But more than that, I have met people that have listened to Elvis and still never really heard him, never truly given his music that concerted listening it deserves. They admit his story and his influence, but for them his music moves no bones, stirs no heart. I get it. I feel the same about, say, Frank Sinatra. And it’s not that it is somehow wrong to have a deep love for rock ‘n’ roll music, or even the blues, without giving Elvis records a second listen; it’s just something you might want to consider, is all. He has a remarkable talent for saying beautifully simple things in an incredibly truthful way. I didn’t get it until I saw footage of Elvis live, namely his seminal 1973 performance in Hawaii. See below:

It’s easy to write him off as a stage presence only, a white-suited caricature of a pop star swallowed alive by his own fame. But watch closely -- he is a presence, but that’s entirely part of why he was, and is, so captivating live. Swinging hips, the gospel choir, and his classic snarl are essential here, but it’s also clear how much he means every word he sings. Nobody has vocal pitch that perfect while fighting addiction and inner demons and a crushing fame and performing live in front of a mammoth audience, unless they mean every word they’re singing. This is real gospel.

The King’s blessed beginnings are as well-known as his unfortunate ends, born in a one-room house in Tupelo, Miss., east of the Delta, smack dab in the middle of the Depression, about as unknown and anonymous as anyone’s ever been. But he loved music, and grew up internalizing as much as he could from both sides of the race coin in an age and a region where that was difficult, to say the least. His impoverished childhood and gospel-spun upbringing lent a true bluesman’s sensibility to what later become rock ‘n’ roll. As a young adult he teamed up with Sam Phillips and Sun Studio in Memphis, which later boasted a roster including Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, and Johnny Cash, and became a full-fledged star, American cultural icon, arbiter of change, pioneer in rock and dance music, etc.

To visit Sun Studio today is to hear an earful about Cash and little about the rest of the group -- perhaps the staff figures the next stop on your Memphis road trip is Graceland, and I guess it’s justified for them to think that, because if Graceland isn’t your next stop it should be.

Cheesy? Take one look at the numerous Elvis impersonators visiting the site, the elaborate memorials placed by eager fans, or the chintzy shag green carpet in the house and you’ll have your answer. Cheesy doesn’t even begin to cover it.
But Graceland remains one of the most moving places I have ever visited in my life. The tour lets you get underneath the Elvis myth. And then there’s his grave. Amid hordes of fans come to pay their respects, having just gained a new appreciation for The King’s music and life from the house-turned-museum, it’s more than a bit uncomfortable to suddenly be confronted with his gravestone, with the cold, hard fact that this humbly-rooted tour de force is laid in the ground right before your feet, excuse my bluntness, dead as a doornail. That, to me, says a lot. You want immortality? Do something as great as Elvis Presley, whose legacy is so powerful you literally forget he’s no longer alive when you listen to his music and read about his life.

After all, his influence seems inescapable: my favorite Elvis song, “True Love Travels on a Gravel Road,” was “Golddigger” long before Kanye West was even conceived as an idea in his parent’s minds, and “Stuck On You” made famous the blues-rock riff you can hear in every blues-rock song since. The opening line of “Viva Las Vegas,” along with the skittering beat, is perfect for anyone jonesing for escape: “Bright lights city gonna set my soul on fire.” His phrasing and intonation is flawless on “Don’t be Cruel.” “Burnin’ Love?” Tell me you don’t want to listen to this every morning when you wake up. And even the classic “Hound Dog” is worth a revisit, given its handclaps and rapid-fire drum break.

So on this day, the anniversary of Elvis’ death, let’s pour a little bit of our metaphorical drinks out for The King. Give the songs below a listen -- a real one -- and if you’re still not moved, a visit to Memphis might be in order. I’m sure some dressed-to-kill impersonator with an “Elvis is Alive!” bumper sticker and a conspiracy-theory-friendly agenda would be glad to show you around. (I didn’t say Elvis fans weren’t total cultist freaks).

-CK

Our Top 30 Albums of the Week

2010-08-13T15:02:00.001-04:00

1 BIG BOI Sir Luscious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty

2 ARCADE FIRE The Suburbs

3 BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE Forgiveness Rock Record

4 CEO White Magic

5 WILD NOTHING Gemini

6 BLACK KEYS Brothers

7 WAVVES King Of The Beach

8 BAND OF HORSES Infinite Arms

9 BEST COAST Crazy For You

10 NATIONAL High Violet

11 TAME IMPALA Innerspeaker

12 SLEIGH BELLS Treats

13 DANGER MOUSE AND SPARKLEHORSE Dark Night Of The Soul

14 SCHOOL OF SEVEN BELLS Disconnect From Desire

15 IVY WALLS The Elegant Universe

16 PAPER TIGER Made Like Us

17 BLUE GIANT Blue Giant

18 YOUNG MAN Boy [EP]

19 STILL FLYIN' A Party In Motion [EP]

20 MAPS AND ATLASES Perch Patchwork

21 JAILL That's How We Burn

22 DALE EARNHARDT JR. JR. Horse Power [EP]

23 DRUMS The Drums

24 MINIATURE TIGERS Fortress

25 UFFIE Sex Dreams And Denim Jeans

26 EL-P Weareallgoingtoburninhellmegamixxx3

27 SUCKERS Wild Smile

28 DAN SARTAIN Dan Sartain Lives

29 LCD SOUNDSYSTEM This Is Happening

30 BOOKS The Way Out

Review: Wild Nothing, Gemini

2010-08-13T09:40:00.001-04:00

Wild Nothing

Gemini

8.5/10

If you are like me, you took one glimpse at the wholly discomforting album cover of Wild Nothing’s Gemini, and immediately grabbed at your own face to make sure that you still possess your highly desirable lower jaw. It’s not unlike waking from a fraught dream, shaking off the sleep and scouring your body to account for everything being intact. The sensation of reverie is entirely fitting for Wild Nothing, whose aptly pegged “80’s dream-pop” treads the familiar while never escaping the surreal throughout the artist’s wonderful debut album.

Hailing from Blacksburg, VA, Jack Tatum of Wild Nothing does not shy away from the dream association; instead, he welcomes it from the very first track, “Live in Dreams.” With Gemini, Tatum constructs a musical world saturated with shimmering synths and reverberating guitar, creating the blissful mood that never falters for the duration of the album. His voice floats and drifts, sometimes for several seconds, seeming both all-encompassing and completely out of reach at any given moment. The lyrics teem with unfulfilled sentiments and suppressed yearning (“Where are you going?/Can I come with you/I don’t feel right when you’re not here.”), but under the layers of hazy texture, the pain never seems acute. Compartmentalized in this other-worldly space, Tatum’s troubled emotions are only passing, and a sense of peace persists as each track fades to a gentle close.

The clarity of Wild Nothing’s expressiveness is refreshingly welcome, as the pervading anesthetic atmosphere takes the edge off the Tatum’s sharp reflection. The entire album has a well-conceived rhythm, and as such, no one song is worthy of a skip. A full listen without interruption is surprisingly comforting, especially during the summer months when music often aims for stand-alone anthems. That’s not to say that Gemini does not have its clear breakout moments; “Chinatown,” for one, exudes exuberance and conveys the restlessness that so often accompanies the mid-year break. Another album hightlight, “O, Lilac,” features a bouncing acoustic melody and is decidedly upbeat in comparison to the rest of the LP.

Sure, Wild Nothing sticks to a consistent musical formula, and doesn’t introduce any particularly novel concepts. But the strength of Tatum’s composition is unwavering, and maintained a inescapable grip on my own attention within every listening moment. Ultimately, the cool lushness of Gemini provides the perfect counterbalance to the sweet, beachy, sun-soaked albums that have become commonplace in the summer of 2010, and will have staying power long after the warm months dissipate into the crispness of autumn.

Worth many listens: “Chinatown”; “O, Lilac”; “Summer Holiday”; “Confirmation”

--Scott Lensing

Review: Gayngs, Relayted

2010-08-12T14:40:00.000-04:00

Gayngs Relayted
A (or 2/2 Unnecessary Silent Vowels)

Before we begin, I have two tasks--first of all, please proceed to Gayngs' Wikipedia page. Read the first few paragraphs. Now, I dare you not to immediately like this band, based just on those few bits of information. There are so many things to like! 23 musicians (including Justin Vernon (SWOON) and a rapper (classic combination of things?)), check; the entire band dressed as "prom" for their first show, check; the Onion liked it and we're suddenly taking the Onion seriously (?), check; they not only did a cover song but a cover video (something Take Cover could look into!), check. Check!

Now that we've got a predisposed bias in favor of the band, we're ready to face the music. To make things easy, Gayngs takes everything about Justin Vernon that could have made you fall asleep and turns the beat up a few notches and back a few decades--from "smooth and sonorous" to "big, harmonic 80's boogie." The album is huge, and lovely, the kind of album that fills a listener up with sound and warmth. This sounds trite, but I'm not kidding, the album is, metaphorically speaking, the Grand Canyon in an elephant's ribcage.

The 23 band members surprisingly don't end up tripping over each other--but their respective influences do shine through in bits and pieces from song to song. "The Walker"--who knew gunshots could, well, fit into a soft rock piece without making me fall out of my office chair? Hats off to Rhymesayers' influence. "Spanish Platinum" is kind of Twin Sister-esque spacey, no doubt Solid Gold's influence. I couldn't even hate "No Sweat" despite the presence of a saxophone (and I have a vendetta against saxophones and 80's music in general). I could go on, but I'll end it here by saying the best thing about the album is that there's something to like about every song, and that there's no telling which one will be my favorite on any given day. My favorite game recently has been playing a "Where's Waldo" of sorts with the list of musicians--can you find the Andrew Bird contributor's influence shine through in any of the tracks? Anyone? Please, keep the surprises coming, Gayngs.

Recap: Newport Folk Festival 2010

2010-08-12T09:00:00.000-04:00

DJ and Biz Director Jared Iversen took to the New England countryside to catch some folk-rockers new and old and reported back to us with some sweet pictures. Check out his review and the gallery below.

The Newport Folk Festival began in 1959, and is probably best known for launching Bob Dylan’s career and as the site of his notorious 1965 performance, where he went electric and changed the face of both folk and rock music. This past weekend, nearly 18,000 people descended upon Fort Adams, an 18th Century military base situated on the pristine shores of Newport, Rhode Island, for the 51st performance of this historic concert. It was my first time at a music festival, and the relaxed air of the folk fest proved to be a great introduction to the festival experience.

On Saturday morning, my friends and I departed Providence behind schedule and anxiously drove across the state, hoping to make it in time for Blitzen Trapper’s set. We drove through the quaint Newport streets, passing mansions and battling traffic, finally making it to the scenic hilltop that hosted the festival. As we entered the gates, we heard the first chords of “Furr” and excitedly ran to the Harbor Stage, arriving just in time to see our favorite song. The memory of the day’s shaky start melted away as we stood in the blissful aura of the crowd, watching the Seattle folk rockers finish up their set.

We left the Harbor Stage satisfied that we had caught “Furr,” and began wandering around, scouring the numerous vendors for free food (thanks CLIF) and just taking in the gorgeous sites. After watching snippets of sets by the foot-stompin’ O’Death, the incredible mandolin and banjo based bluegrass of Sam Bush, and the soulful Brandi Carlile, we settled back down at the Harbor Stage to watch one of my favorite artists, Jim James of My Morning Jacket (performing as Yim Yames). As James took the stage, replacing Sam Bush, the average age of the crowd was cut in half, as its size nearly doubled. People drifted off between sets and we snagged seats about 12 rows from the stage, watching the bearded James, dressed in a stylish maroon suit and sunglasses, set up.

After a few minutes, James began his set with the Monsters of Folk tune “His Master’s Voice,” and I gazed admiringly, pretty much like this, as he stood alone on the stage, plucking his acoustic guitar and singing like an angel. The crowd seemed to share my adoration, as everyone sat enraptured by James’ intimate performance, only breaking their silence for an occasional hoot or holler as he showed off his vocal range and an explosion of applause after each song. He continued his beautiful, heartfelt set with an unreleased song called “Wonderful (The Way I Feel),” and the My Morning Jacket songs “Look at You,” “Tonight I Want to Celebrate With You,” and “Bermuda Highway.” At this point, he took a moment to remember his friend, cartoonist and musician John Callahan, who had passed away the week before, dedicating the performance to him and playing a cover of Callahan’s song “Summer Never Ends.” He continued with “It Beats 4 U” and a very subdued version of “What A Wonderful Man,” both of which carried a new gravity in light of James’ earnest tribute. Continuing the festival's collaborative tradition, he called up his friends Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore, who recently released an album to raise awareness for mountain top removal, which James produced. They added a cello, bass, and drums to James’ acoustic guitar, picking up the pace on the next few songs, before ending the stellar set with knockout versions of “Smokin’ From Shootin’” and “Gideon.”

As the sun shined on our smiling faces, we hurried over to the Main Stage to watch Andrew Bird, who stood on the huge platform all by himself, playing his violin, surrounded by the bevy of other instruments and equipment he would use during his set. Bird started off by playing what he called “musical ideas,” bits and pieces of music that weren’t really fully formed songs yet. We ended up making our way towards the front of the stage, and stumbled upon a small group of people dancing off to the side, in front of the press tents. We immediately joined in, jumping around joyously and uninhibited, as Bird was accompanied on stage by Calexico, and launched into “Plasticities,” “A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head,” and “Tables and Chairs.” People stared at us. And laughed. And took pictures. But we didn’t care. It was one of those special moments that music festivals seem to induce, where strangers come together, and yell as loud as they can that “oooh there will be snacks there will.” We tried to get other people to join, and attempted to orchestrate a group clap, but the crowd seemed more content to just lounge around on the lawn, only half paying attention to Bird’s impressive set.

As the day wound down, and the sun began to approach the sailboats on the horizon, we decided to check out one more band before leaving. As we approached the smaller Quad Stage, Dawes had just finished their set, but, continuing the day’s good fortune, they asked, “Anybody wanna hear one more?” and came back out for a rare encore. I had never heard of these guys, but they instantly won me over with their uplifting anthem, “I Got a Feeling,” and sent me off with my favorite song of the day, which is still stuck in my head. After the first stanza, front man Taylor Goldsmith called his father, a musician and former member of Sweathog, onstage to help him belt out the catchy refrain. The crowd joined in, chanting elatedly as Taylor strummed his guitar and hopped around the stage with childish excitement, seemingly thrilled at how the crowd had embraced his band. Dawes was a real pleasant surprise and, after seeing their rousing performance, I discovered that this California band released a beautiful album last summer called North Hills, filled with warm harmonies reminiscent of fellow Laurel Canyonmusicians Crosby, Stills, and Nash. They are definitely one of the most promising young bands on the Americana scene, and Goldsmith has joined forces with a couple of other rising folk stars, John McCauley from Deer Tick and Matt Vasquez from Delta Spirit, and is slated to release an album with them sometime this year.

This wasn't a huge music festival, and I only saw some of the band's on just one of the two days, but it was still one of my greatest music going experiences. During his set Jim James mused at “what a miracle it all is,” asking “how can things be so great?” Wonderful music, perfect weather, and lots of cheerful people, all set against a picturesque backdrop, can make things great, and the Newport Folk Festival was nothing short of that.

Re: Stacks - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

2010-08-11T10:47:00.002-04:00

Re: Stacks - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot by WGTB Blog

Catherine takes a look at the Wilco mega-hit Yankee Hotel Foxtrot in this first installment of 'Re: Stacks,' an article where we learn about the intimate relationships between listener and performer.

Review: 180° South: Conquerers of the Useless Soundtrack

2010-08-10T14:40:00.002-04:00

180° South: Conquerers of the Useless Soundtrack
Various Artists
B

180° South: Conquerers of the Useless--just another regular movie about another bunch of regular guys, right? Not really. And it's not a soundtrack put together by a regular bunch of guys, either, but we'll get to that. To sum up, the plot of the movie consists of "adventurer*" Jeff Johnson deciding to venture off toPatagonia and retrace the steps of Yvon Chouinard and Doug Tompkins, two regular guys who went to Patagonia in 1968, who had their lives "changed," and decided to put this "last wild place on earth" under protection. You'll have to take my word on this one, because I, too, have only seen the trailer, but I have the feeling Johnson's story will probably include beautiful nature shots, overcoming massive setbacks and finding his destiny along the 10,000 mile journey.

So what about the soundtrack, the one that you didn't get to listen to in the trailer because somebody decided to play Animal Collective instead? There's a little bit of Jack Johnson, a little bit of James Mercer, topped off by a whole lot of Ugly Casanova. Here's everything you'll need to know about Ugly Casanova, ever. In my professional opinion, that's a great backstory to a band if I've ever heard one. It is, however, unnecessary to read that the band is essentially Modest Mouse, because listening to just one song on this soundtrack will give that away--especially if it's not an instrumental and you can actually hear Isaac Brock's lisp. The Ugly Casanova tracks on the album sound like back-to-basics, performing-in-your-back-yard Modest Mouse, stripped down and a lot of twang. Jack Johnson has always been performing shirtless in your backyard (in Hawaii), with a lot of twang. James Mercer is harder to place--member of the Shins, and lately Broken Bells, what is he doing on this soundtrack? Let's take the fact that he was born in Hawaii as well--shirtless twang is, then, in his blood, as is protecting beautiful places, adventures, probably surfing, and definitely making soundtracks for movies about adventurers.

Essentially, these artists have written songs that will complement the film perfectly. Even listening to the soundtrack only once, it's easy to imagine where each of the stripped-down, restrained indie-rock tracks is going to fit into this movie--an adventure movie with a strong underlying environmental message. Take "Maybe We're Lost"--here's where the big plot setback will happen. It'll get really cold, and Jeff Johnson is going to lose a toe to frostbite, or his tent is going to blow away in the wind, or he'll be pummeled within an inch of his life by a monster wave. There's going to be a sweeping panorama shot that shows how small he really is, Man vs. Wilderness, while some muted guitar chords play and Isaac Brock mutters something existential into the microphone. Or take "Here's to Now"--here's how the movie will end, on a song that's probably about living in the moment (though I'm not quite sure), and in a broader sense about appreciating the things you can have in said moment, and trying to preserve them for the future. Man has the power todestroy, man has the power to save. After the thoroughly enjoyable yet predictable (don't these movies always end the same?) two hour ad made by Patagonia in support of environmental protection (and their clothing), we'll fade to black with a sense of urgency, impeding doom, and a modicum of hope.

"Man is alright, you can't beat him" --William Faulkner**

Highlight Tracks: "Here's to Now," "Maybe We're Lost"
When to Listen to the Album: While Napping on the Beach

-- Fiona Hanly

*first off, what kind of a career is "adventurer?!" and where can I sign up to be one??
**it must be something in the water, but Faulkner has been an inspiration to WGTB DJ's of late

Take Cover: You Oughta Be Proud That I'm Getting Good Marksssss

2010-08-10T09:03:00.003-04:00

Sad Kermit: "Needle In The Hay" (Elliott Smith)

Your regularly scheduled weekly column, in which I uncover (pun) and discuss a well-done cover song worth your time, will return next week. For now, let me interrupt standard programming to bring you something that will make you thank your lucky stars that the Internet is still the Internet and that we can have nice things like this, because the real wealth of human existence is our endless treasure trove of creativity and also communal pop culture, and we are truly blessed to live in a world where someday our children and grandchildren can know a Kermit the Frog of multiple moods and variations, including what might be termed his "Blue Period" (because it's not easy being green!), when he denigrated into a lifestyle of drugs and crime and depression while watching The Royal Tenenbaums on repeat, all of which came to a rather ugly head in his hit ballad, "The Rainbow Disconnection."

Check out Sad Kermit's whole discography here. (Radiohead's "Creep" is notable.)

-- Caroline Klibanoff

Review: Band of Horses, Infinite Arms

2010-08-09T14:33:00.004-04:00

Band of Horses

Infinite Arms

4.0 out of 10 disappointed fans

There it was, on display at the Whole Foods register, double-teamed by Jack Johnson and Michael Bublé: Infinite Arms, the latest release from Band of Horses. “Bwah?” No one around me would have known it, but I was immediately ashamed. How did my beloved band find themselves in the snoozer company of adult-contemporary all-stars who rhapsodize about banana pancakes (delicious, no doubt) and impersonate Frank Sinatra?

A phenomenal debut and an excellent sophomore album raised expectations for this third LP from the Seattle-turned-Carolina rockers. However, what should have cemented of Band of Horses’ place as one of the most satisfying acts in indie rock instead represented a dive into a limbo of lazily meandering melodies. I probably should have seen the writing on the wall, as lead singer Ben Bridwell remains the sole original member of the band. Even when the video for the first single, “Compliments,” previewed in early April, with its bizarre montage of nature photos, I refused to believe that more of this risk-averse music would come on the album. Of course, I was wrong.

If Cease to Begin was one totally acceptable step from Everything All the Time into more accessible song-craft, then Infinite Arms is a leap into substanceless tunes. From start to finish, not one song truly stands out from the rest, an absolutely glaring change from their previous efforts that reverberated indefinitely in my head for days and weeks at a time. Multiple-part harmony with a Southern-rock tinge reigns the day on this record, usually accompanied by a daintily strummed acoustic guitar and nominally tapped drums. The wondrous reverb is gone, as this album relies completely on the pleasant but lackluster vocals that constitute the foundation for each and every track.

The only remaining constants of today’s Band of Horses are Bridwell’s lovely and expansive voice, and an abundance of beards. Despite the nature motifs of this LP, the songs fail to reach into the infinite abyss as they once did; the vocals are altogether contained and restrained. Bridwell’s pipes no longer haunt nor unsettle, but instead breeze past the listener without taking root. Lyrics like “If there’s a God up in the air/Someone looking over everyone/At least you got something to fall back on” are straightforward and uninspired, with a sense of contentedness to just have someone listen to the singers’ musings. Songs such as “Blue Beard” resemble dated 1970s love-ballads, and don’t elicit more than an unimpressed sigh. Ironically, even with tunes that spill over with affections and aches, this record lacks heart.

And I don’t strive to be overly harsh, but I can’t help but discuss at length my disappointment with a band that I once held dear. It just seems that with the well-deserved success of their first two albums, Band of Horses, and Bridwell more specifically, made an indulgent record that they knew could ride on the coattails of fan loyalty. While Whole Foods’ prominent recognition of the group is not a damning sign in and of itself, it is certainly an indication that the band had lost its creative and compelling identity. Let’s hope that, somehow, Band of Horses regain their unshakable sound on the next effort..

Meh…: “On My Way Back Home” and “For Annabelle”

-Scott Lensing

Synesthesia: Eat, Pray, Love Trailer

2010-08-09T09:30:00.007-04:00

Eat, Pray, Love

I don't know how anyone could have missed Elizabeth Gilbert's memoir Eat Pray Love when it came out in 2006––literally every single person (female) I knew on Earth had read it by the end of summer 2007, myself included, and half of those people again had made vows to attempt a similar experiment--to throwing the shackles off! A quick summary of the memoir's plot: "[Eat, Pray, Love] chronicles [Gilbert's] trip around the world after her divorce and what she discovered during her travels." Let me jump in and give away the ending: she discovers herself, and how to be happy. Classic plot twist! It took the movie industry exactly three seconds to capitalize on the book's unprecedented success and make a movie adaptation.

Great! OK!

Was anyone else incredibly bored for about, oh, the first two entire minutes? Of the two and a half minute trailer? As far as music goes, the trailer boldly uses one song and one song only––Florence and the Machine's "Dog Days are Over." I have a severe case of depth overcharge when it comes to Florence - so, logically, this is right up my alley.

Wrong! The trailer is simply the worst. One of the million reasons to be in love with "Dog Days Are Over" is its pacing: starts out slow, builds, rushes in gleefully, backs off again to just a whisper...and then the beat comes back (BOOM!) all accompanied by Florence Welch's howl. It's not just a song, it's alive. But the Eat, Pray, Love trailer utterly ignores the pace, the vibrance that effuses from the song, and instead throws massive shackles around it by spending the entire first two minutes lingering in a looped repetition of the song's harp-chorded, tiny-clapped introduction. This amounts to two minutes of what the original spends five seconds on––a kind of terrible restraint that feels about as bad as that common human experience of trying so hard to sneeze for MINUTES on end, but somehow still not being able to. Let it OUT already!

Conveniently, I have a glaring parallel point of contention with the trailer thematically--the fact that Eat, Pray Love is a memoir of what Gilbert experiences after her divorce, yet the trailer lingers in the mind-numbing boredom of Julia Roberts' life falling apart and James Franco folding her "delicates" (tee hee!) in dreary NYC. The book spends its first few pages elaborating it will not be dwelling in the time of Gilbert's depression and divorce, and tears voraciously (literally!) into the "Eat" part of the journey––a journey that should the movie adaptation's selling point as well, yet one its trailer gives us only a hurried glimpse of.

What tends to happen when one reads Eat Pray Love or listens to "Dog Days Are Over" is a tiny rush of with pure, utter, unabashed joie de vivre, coupled with a hinted certainty that happiness is within your grasp if you could just let the universe in, just live for once (a reminder humanity needs now and then). The trailer, conversely, falls flat.

All things considered, will this deter you from seeing the movie itself? We'll give it a solid sideways-thumbed "maybe"––the soundtrack looks dull, Julia Roberts is dull, so let's be honest: we'll end up watching it on Megavideo this November when it's sleeting and we have a paper to write.

-- Fiona Hanly

Play What? Play This Playlist: An Ode To The Dog Days of Summer

2010-08-06T10:32:00.000-04:00

The dog days of summer are, quite literally, a drag, and they have officially Arrived. If July was the joyful carefree summer of your youth, then August is a half-life of bided time and listless suspension, caught apathetically between enjoying the last few weeks of summer sun and ushering it along to something new and possibly better and ultimately not really giving a damn either way whether time slows down or speeds up, because if the augustine humidity indicates one thing it is that nothing moves, nothing changes, nothing rushes or sweats or jumps or feels anything, really, for about the last three weeks of the month. It's that feeling cued up quite perfectly by Jessica Lea Mayfield's disinterested bargain in "Kiss Me Again," the same one that accompanies the fade towards the end of a relationship: "You got me where you want me, but I ain't all there." And again, later: "You can touch me if you want to, I don't really care."

Yet something is sort of dark and mean about these dog days of summer, because despite their existence as almost a non-entity they can kind of weigh you down. It's the limbo of it, I guess, that has you thinking a little too deeply and a little too vaguely. Josh Ritter says it best: "I know the dog days of the summer / Have you ten to one outnumbered / Seems like everybody up and left and they're not coming back."

You might get nostalgic at the time that's passing, and accept it a la the Avett Brothers ("Tear down the house that I lived in, I'll never be the same again") or take it more as a Do-Not-Go-Gentle-Into-That-Goodnight warning, soundtracked by the ever-having-your-back Japandroids ("Give me that time you were already in bed, said fuck it and got up to drink with me instead.") It begs for both company and escape ("Into the Mystic"). It encourages your willing derision ("You are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me.") It demands that you shelve and restrain all questions and concerns regardless of what you want, because you don't know what you want ("Misunderstood").

So you need some consolation ("Queen Jane," the Spokesman's best offer of everything-is-gonna-be-alright) and some resilience (to kindly tell the Shine Blockas to step off, with a growl.) And of course, some surround-sound cocoon comfort, courtesy of Mojave 3's pensive "Love Songs on the Radio," which takes, roughly, the melody of Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne" and threads it through nine hundred layers of dream-fuzz warmth. And lastly, The Beach Boys' "Don't Worry Baby," which includes all of the above traits and is the best August song ever written.

Our Top 30 Albums of the Week

2010-08-05T14:24:00.000-04:00

Party people in the club it's time to cut a rug.

1 BIG BOI Sir Luscious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty

2 NATIONAL High Violet

3 BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE Forgiveness Rock Record Arts And Crafts

4 BLACK KEYS Brothers

5 WAVVES King Of The Beach

6 WILD NOTHING Gemini

7 BAND OF HORSES Infinite Arms

8 BEST COAST Crazy For You

9 TAME IMPALA Innerspeaker

10 DANGER MOUSE AND SPARKLEHORSE Dark Night Of The Soul

11 CEO White Magic

12 SLEIGH BELLS Treats

13 SCHOOL OF SEVEN BELLS Disconnect From Desire

14 IVY WALLS The Elegant Universe

15 PAPER TIGER Made Like Us

16 STILL FLYIN' A Party In Motion [EP]

17 MAPS AND ATLASES Perch Patchwork

18 JAILL That's How We Burn Sub Pop

19 FOL CHEN Part 2: The New December

20 DRUMS The Drums

21 MINIATURE TIGERS Fortress

22 EL-P Weareallgoingtoburninhellmegamixxx3

23 UFFIE Sex Dreams And Denim Jeans

24 SUCKERS Wild Smile

25 DAN SARTAIN Dan Sartain Lives

26 WOODS At Echo Lake Woodsist

27 LCD SOUNDSYSTEM This Is Happening

28 KURT VILE Square Shells [EP]

29 BOOKS The Way Out Temporary Residence

30 BATHS Cerulean Anticon

Review: The Drums, The Drums

2010-08-05T09:33:00.000-04:00

The Drums
The Drums

7.4/10

If The Strokes, The Cure, The Smiths, and the Beach Boys all got together had a baby (science is close!), they would name it The Drums. Well, actually, first they’d name it Goat Explosion, and then change their minds to Elkland, before finally settling on The Drums. Despite their apparent indecision in the name department, the band now known as The Drums consciously borrowed elements from several new-wave indie pop giants and beach bums of yore to spawn a band that looks and sounds like a little bit of all of them.

The simple surfer riffs and beachy beats of The Drums’s second album, The Drums, closely follows up the sound introduced in their September 2009 debut, Summertime!. Singles like “Best Friend” and “Let’s Go Surfing” are fun, familiar, and super catchy—perfect staples to any summer playlist. On their website, The Drums explain that they “only write about two feelings: one is the first day of summer when you and all of your friends are standing on the edge of a cliff watching the sun set and being overcome with all of your hopes and dreams at once. The other is when you're walking alone in the rain and realize you will be alone forever."

With tried and true (and all alliterations aside, maybe a little trite) 60s beats, 80s emotion, and earnest, repetitive lyrics, almost every song from The Drums is practically guaranteed to end up stuck in your head. How long it’ll stick around when September rolls around, though, is another question. If The Drums amp up their creativity level and branch out from their cozy cove of well-curated influences, they could potentially be around long enough to inspire the next pretty-boy surfer-pop band.

Recommendations: “Best Friend”, “Let’s Go Surfing”, “Me and the Moon” (not because I especially love it but because it is at least a little bit different sounding.)

-- Emma Forster

Review: Arcade Fire, The Suburbs (With Album Stream)

2010-08-04T10:00:00.000-04:00

Arcade Fire
The Suburbs
1000 words

The literary accompaniment to The Suburbs is found almost too perfectly in William Faulkner’s 1950 Nobel Prize acceptance speech, in which he declared the state of youth in the union: “There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only one question: when will I be blown up?”

The Montreal-based septuplet similarly poses the difficult questions of the age on their latest release, sometimes ironically and sometimes earnestly. Thematically organized around the threat of suburban sprawl and the replacement of one culture with another, the band manages to avoid the inevitable downer-type sensibility associated with suburban sprawl and instead replace it with total searching exuberance. Like Faulkner, they simply “decline to accept the end of man,” a challenge made immediately clear from Win Butler’s first declaration on the album amid friendly, pleasant piano plinks: “The suburbs are a lonely drive / and you told me we’d never survive / grab your mother’s keys, we’re leaving.”

This is the album Arcade Fire have been waiting their whole career to make. People are going to go under this album and not come out until they’re old and grey. If folks got excited about Funeral and Neon Bible, both of which teetered around 46 minutes of orchestral art-rock, then they should probably sit down for this one, because there’s far more being said here. Where Funeral built tunnels and made connections, The Suburbs shirks any peacemaking or coming-to-terms; instead, it shouts desperately for any sign of real life, of hearts beating real blood, echoing Springsteen’s query: “Is there anybody alive out there?”

[Read full review and stream the album after the jump]

The weird thing is, The Suburbs exhibits no huge sonic departure from AF’s previous work, but the smallest choices make the biggest difference. Like how the last high-pitched note on “Month of May” sustains gorgeously into the rockabilly opening of “Wasted Hours,” which is for all intents and purposes the ideal end-credits-to-a-film song. Or how the final track “The Suburbs (Continued)” reprises the opener of the same name, or how the guitars glitter on the soothing “Rococo,” or how the end of “Suburban War” crashes most bellicosely, almost visually. Continuity is the name of the game here, aided by a few sets of two-part songs, like the melodramatic, appropriately flat “Sprawl (Flatlands)” and the peaking, soaring “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains).” The first “Sprawl,” the only lull on the album really, forms a platform for the second, which is a jam and a calling-- specifically, “Come and find your kind.”

Perhaps the most impressive feat here is that in addition to cultivating an album that overwhelms musically, Arcade Fire has essentially made a concept album, one that pleases your ears as it eases your mind. Let us remember that North American suburbs popped up around the same time as Faulkner’s speech, creating enclaves of homogeneity and much-needed post-war stability under the watchful eyes of Truman and Eisenhower, which more or less resulted in an eventual cultural backlash (Howl, anyone?) And I mean, in every line and arching note on The Suburbs, I hear echoes of John Clellon Holmes’ 1952 essay, “This is the Beat Generation,” in which he describes a generation for which “the valueless abyss of modern life is unbearable,” one that “exhibits on every side, and in a bewildering number of facets, a perfect craving to believe.” Arcade Fire sees these same suburbs aged 60 years, and reacts with a satisfying dissatisfaction to this “valueless abyss of modern life,” which evidently (and disturbingly) has only gotten worse. That’s why the album’s escape-at-any-cost-and-take-who-you-can-with-you nature is so appealing. Win Butler practically declares a call to action in the hard-rocking “Month of May”: “I know it’s heavy, I know it ain’t light / But how you gonna lift it with your arms folded tight?”

It is with this simultaneous care and rebelliousness that the album makes its biggest statement; the music itself is equal parts moody/thoughtful and wild/free, which suits the material. From the first notes of “City With No Children,” the listener is greeted with wall-to-wall jubilation, like the pivotal sounds of rock ‘n’ roll in big bold blocky print font, an energy that is sustained for the full 60 minutes.

Keenly, even in their exuberance, the band does not lose sight of keeping their message gravely serious, even when Butler’s darling falsetto threatens to win fans simply for aesthetic appeal. It’s both droll and concerned, like Bowie’s “Heroes,” which seems to be echoed most obviously on synth-bopper “Modern Man” and “Ready to Start.” Bowie’s Major Tom was an amusing character that evinced real pain, a strange literary device that Arcade Fire grasps with ease in “Ready to Start”: “All the kids have always known / that the emperor wears no clothes / but they bow down to him anyway / because it’s better than being alone.”

“Half Light II (No Celebration),” is an instant stunner, a gently-sung track that boasts rapid heartbeat drums and a songwriter’s firm structure. It opens with a resignation (“Now that San Francisco’s gone, I guess I’ll just pack it in.”) and follows with deep-seated fear (“Pray that I don’t live to see the death of everything that’s wild.”) But beneath it all rumbles a vague hopefulness (aided by a joyful “Woo!”), a story of barreling back and forth from coast to coast, taking what is left in these desolate suburban outposts and finding the heart that must beat there because humanity is eternally, hopelessly alive. Or, as Faulkner puts it:

“It is easy enough to say that man is immortal because he will endure; that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure; he will prevail.”

Or, for The Suburbs: you can take the heart and soul out of the man’s land, but you cannot take the heart and soul out of the man. And Butler comes back with a vengeance and a promise on “We Used to Wait,” which chronicles nostalgically the olden days of long-distance pen-and-paper communication over clean 60’s keyboard riffs before building to an arresting climax: “Now we’ll scream and sing the chorus again!”

By the time the final track comes around, the old-school cinematic “The Suburbs (Continued),” all that's left is a question, the only way to end an album like this. The opening track is reprised beneath an orchestra and some haunted, ethereal vocals that aren’t quite sad or backwards-looking as much as they are eerie and intriguing, and the whole elusive nature of it redirects the listener to consider the driving force behind all of The Suburbs: Where are we? Who are we? Where are we going? And what will await us when we get there?

Faulkner provides an answer to that, too. “The last sound on the worthless earth,” he once said, “will be two human beings trying to launch a homemade spaceship and already quarreling about where they are going next.”

-- Caroline Klibanoff

Stream the album here:

How Kanye West Broke the Internets

2010-08-03T14:15:00.000-04:00

Did you know that Kanye West likes this chair? Or that his shoes are Dries? Or that he thinks you should keep good friends around? What about that he needs a flight to Brazil as soon as possible? How about that Skal means 'toast' in Swedish?

This collection of random-synapse-firing-manifest-in-text are extracted from Kanye West’s newly established Twitter feed. They all came within a 12 hour time frame, some only seconds after the other, and are only a small sample of his general activity. What’s most surprising here, though, is that it took so long for this union to develop.

Twitter is a platform for people who like to see their imaginary audiences come to life. Kanye West is a person whose imaginary audience is so endless, so grandeur, that platinum records, arenas filled with fans, and the mishap-hungry media outlets aren’t enough to sate his desire to be paid attention to. So, he turns to the only other place where people are willing to listen- all day long – to his shameless flaunting and hardly insightful commentary on, well, nothing.

I’m not preaching—I have a twitter too. And, if I really didn’t like it, I could just stop following him. What is interesting here, though, is how Kanye’s twitter feed so definitively closes the verdict of whether or not Kanye is an act. For some time, Kanye held an almost Andy Kaufman-like position in the eyes of the media. How can someone be so insightful and eloquent in one moment and then so brash and shallow in the next? Did he really write his blog post in all caps? Did he really just say the President hates black people? Did he really just rip a trophy from a 90-pound girl?

Kanye West is a creature of impulse. And our impulses follow our egos in a vicious cycle until one of them is checked against the other. His impulsivity probably has a lot to do with what makes him so popular (it definitely has a lot to do with what makes him hated). There is a certain intuition at play when Kanye West makes music, and its his impulsivity that tells him when to pull the trigger on a song, when to let it go, and when to make it better. It’s this same impulsiveness, coupled with a desire to be heard and an odd lack of self-awareness present only in his character and not his music, that makes Kanye West Twitter’s new darling. So sort like everything else with Kanye, when he tells us that suits are an expensive addiction, we have to just think of his music and say, ‘Whatever.’

--Igor German

Take Cover: Time to Pretend

2010-08-03T09:16:00.000-04:00

Jonsi - "Time To Pretend" (MGMT)

It's not like MGMT is immensely cover-able. It's a weird fluke that this has come up twice in such a short time span. But this is impressively clean for a live recording, and the Sigur Ros frontman delicately changes the arrangement of the song. I'll let the recording speak for itself:

-- Caroline Klibanoff

Synesthesia #1: Charlie St. Cloud (New Column!)

2010-08-02T10:14:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the first installment of SYNESTHESIA, in which DJ Fiona Hanly does a close-read of upcoming movie trailers, evaluating them based on (what else?) but the soundtrack. Better make those two minutes count, people who make movie trailers!

"Charlie St. Cloud" Trailer

Here's a look at the music used in the Charlie St. Cloud trailer, which is otherwise rubbish as it is compiled of scenes cut from a rubbish film.There are so many reasons that this will be the worst movie of all time, and this is only a two-and-a-half minute preview of them. Boo, Charlie St. Cloud!

First up, we have Electric Owls with "Magic Show." For anyone who missed it, this song was on Urban Outfitters compilation LSTN#3. It's lighthearted and poppy and acoustic guitars and xylophones and fun, appropriate for the thirty seconds in the movie in which we, the audience, will think Zac Efron's life is rife with sailing, baseball, and really intense blue eyes.

Plot twist! Car crash! (Everyone was surprised). Cue one of my personal favorite songs of all time, The National's "So Far Around the Bend." Apparently Zac Efron's startlingly blue-eyed character heads down the rabbit hole after the death of his equally blue-eyed baby brother. The National's song is perfect for the plot turn. I hate to say it, but "nobody knows where you are livin' / nobody knows where you are / you're so far around the bend" are perfect lyrics to describe this vein of character development. Nobody knows what Ol' Sky Eyes is going through, nobody. Nobody knows where to find his beautiful, albeit lost soul.

Except the girl! (Everyone was surprised, again). And now we cue Snow Patrol's mediocre "Run." I hate Snow Patrol, and as a side effect of this bias I suddenly become disinterested in the trailer. From what I can remember while not paying attention: Zac Efron falls in love, something else about the girl sailing around the world and getting lost, Zac Efron dives into the ocean, Zac Efron is ridiculous and not to be taken seriously. Barf end to a decent trailer audio-wise about a terrible movie nobody will like because it will be The Worst.

Final Evaluation: 2/3. Well done, movie industry. But your clever use of a mainly obscure band employed by a trendy clothing store to sell trendy clothes and accessories, even combined with your use of a well-respected and appropriately-lauded indie rock band--they still won't get the people who either wear those clothes or listen to those albums to your theaters. Maybe if the movie was going to turn out like this, but only maybe.

Next Week's Preview: Will I be able to get over my hatred for the insipid Julia Roberts if the trailer for her new movie uses Florence + the Machine?!

-- Fiona Hanly

15 Indie Rockers and Their American Historiophysical Twins

2010-07-30T09:33:00.000-04:00

History repeats itself, we know. So much so, that it appears these weird sets of doppelgangers have occurred, in a weird fluke of time travel, probably. I mean, there's no way that stately Hamiltonian smirk-- the one that made the 10 dollar bill famous-- can exist in two separate individuals (and they're both from New York?). Plus, William Fitzsimmons' "I Don't Feel It Anymore" is equally desolate as, say, a damp, drizzly November in the soul. And have you ever seen Andrew Bird and Ralph Waldo Emerson in the same place at the same time? What about Noah Webster and Jeff Tweedy? Hmm? ...Didn't think so.

-- Caroline Klibanoff

Did The Intern Show Up? Vol. 5: The Bands

2010-07-29T14:32:00.000-04:00

Bands, bands, bands. Before working here, what I knew about bands was roughly this – that they wrote and played music, that they put out albums, that they toured, that they ended up on my iPod if I liked them well enough. All of that is still true, of course, but I’ve come to realize a couple of other things as well. Namely, that bands are made up of people, and people…people are interesting. I don’t have to tell you that, though. You’ve read this column before (RIGHT?). You’ve heard the stories.

As for the bands…there are a lot of different kinds of bands. There are bands that show up early to load in and soundcheck. There are bands that don’t show up until ten minutes before their set is due to start and have to use someone else’s line-checked equipment. There are bands who wander around the downstairs area of the bar alone or only amongst themselves. There are bands who hang out in the green room upstairs. There are bands who want you to hang out upstairs with them. There are bands who could care less that you exist as long as you settle with them at the end of the night. There are bands who know what they’re doing on tour and who are grateful that we know what we’re doing on our end to help them out. There are bands who have never been on tour before and either look terrified or act like idiots, sometimes both. There are bands who will pack the bar unexpectedly. There are bands who think they’ll pack the bar and end up playing to ten people, five of whom were on the guest list. There are bands who don’t understand how a door deal works. There are bands who complain about getting a door deal until they see how much they’re actually making. There are local bands who are always, always late. There are touring bands who forget equipment or bring too much of it.
Basically, there are bands. I could keep going with this list for another couple of paragraphs, but you would get bored reading it and I’d get bored with repeating the same sentence structure over and over again, so I’m going to spare the both of us. Chances are I won’t (and don’t) remember all of the members of all of the bands that come through KFN. That would be pretty impossible, actually. I’ll remember the Italian frontman of the Rolling Stones tribute band named Crazyfish, though. I’ll remember the soft-spoken singer of Woven Bones who so genuinely cared if people enjoyed the show. I’ll remember the guys from Animal Tropical, with whom I’ve honestly had the most fun in the green room ever.
Because like I said, bands are made up of people. And people have the power to surprise you, or infuriate you, or make you laugh, or help you remember how much you love doing what you do. That’s what this job has been about for me. Getting to know people, remembering how to genuinely care about people, learning how to look past the often-tattooed exterior and connect because you’re both in the same place at the same time – so why the hell not? It’s a pretty cool concept.
This week’s post is short, I know. But I feel like I’ve said my piece for now. When you spend so much time talking about why you love something it’s easy to run out of the right words.

-- Emily Simpson

Re: Stacks - An Introduction

2010-07-29T10:00:00.000-04:00

Re: Stacks - An Introduction by igorgerman

Welcome to 'Re: Stacks,' an audio column by incoming Music Director Catherine Degennaro that explores not the story that an album tells, but the story that an album creates by its relationship with the listener. Take a listen to this introduction to the column and get excited for some great features to follow.

Artist of the Week: Tennis

2010-07-28T11:00:00.003-04:00

Maybe it's because I totally missed the wave along the Best Coast, or perhaps its because I was too afraid of falling even further in love with Zooey to dedicate myself to She & Him, but something about Tennis, the newest hype-hungry-too-cute-for-real-life duo out of Denver finally settles well with me. They have something that the other two lack: a story. It's not always fair to give a band extra points for a great personal narrative, but the urge to romanticize the process of music creation is hard to resist, and Tennis deliver on this front. The married couple saved up in order to buy a sail boat and set sail along the East Coast. They had no intention of creating an album along the way, but the endless amounts of free time that come with a sailor's life gave room for creativity, and the inspiration of 'Baby It's You,' by the Shirelles sparked a vicious bout of music making that manifests itself in these tracks. The songs aren't really about places, but about experiences. But since the experiences were so closely linked to their location at any given moment (sailing is an exercise in geography, after all) they wrote songs with titles like 'Baltimore,' and 'South Carolina.' It's infectious, cute, and intelligent. And if their forerunners are any indication, its gonna be big. Click Through to Listen to 'Marathon' !

Marathon by Tennis by igorgerman

Oh, and they got matching tattoos instead of wedding rings.

Concert Review: The New Pornographers, The Dodos, Imaad Wasif @ The Fox Theater

2010-07-27T14:33:00.002-04:00

The New Pornographers w/ The Dodos and Imaad Wasif
The Fox Theater (Oakland, CA)
July 18, 2010

Everything was going perfectly according to plan— until they started singing. From the moment Dodos frontman Meric Long first spoke into the microphone, people in the audience perplexedly tilted their head à la a Jack Russell terrier, looked at the speakers overhead, and then back to Long. The vocals were muffled and distant, making even music-free banter between songs almost inaudible. His words were nearly completely indiscernible. The audience clearly was missing most everything that was said or sung, so why wasn’t the Fox Theater sound crew even attempting to fix this obvious problem?

After a 43-year period of inactivity, the Fox Theater reopened in early 2009, and by all appearances is one of the premiere venues in the Bay Area. Yet for all its interior beauty, the theater has continued to have problems with perfecting their sound quality, which is a real shame when two class acts like The New Pornographers and The Dodos are playing on the same night. But as percussive elements rule The Dodos’ live performances, and as this was also a primarily New Pornographers crowd, no one in the audience raised a public fuss during the local band’s set. The Dodos stuck mostly to songs from their touchstone album Visiter, a smart move that capitalized on their natural energy and instrumental rawness. Acoustic guitar, drums and vibraphone, played at full force, were all they needed to at the very least sustain the interest of an older, geekier crowd than they normally see. The band soldiered on, with songs like “Fools” and “Jodi” surging into cathartic releases and serving as reminders of how percussion can wonderfully dominate when laid out loud and bare.

People stopped shrugging off the vocal clarity debacle when The New Pornographers took the stage, as after each of the first four songs, numerous people in the audience pleaded, “More vocals!” The sound team mercifully fixed the problem following an incredibly flat “Crash Years” stunted Neko Case’s usually harrowing voice, which finally allowed all eight New Pornographers to explode into their power-pop gems. Carl Newman’s man-child lisp was as charming as ever, taking the lead on pulsing singles “Twin Cinema” and “Use It.” Neko Case regained her entrancing form with “My Shepherd,” which undoubtedly melted most hearts and gave foolhardy hope to every mid-thirties techie who cried out to her with desperation after each song.

Even with these two highly acclaimed individuals at the helm, The New Pornographers on Sunday night belonged to Dan Bejar (also of Destroyer and Swan Lake fame). That someone as gifted a songwriter as Bejar demanded the respect of every audience member is no surprise; what was a surprise was Bejar maintaining unrelenting command despite his extraordinarily aloof on-stage behavior. Bejar was only physically present for around three out of every five songs, emerging each time from off-stage with a fresh Dos Equis in hand. He was the kid who threw a tantrum to his parents before dinner guests arrived, was threatened by said parents not to misbehave in front of their company, and who eventually dragged his feet to the table to the delight of the amused guests. When Bejar finally made it back on stage for the third and final encore song, drummer Kurt Dahle quipped “Thanks for coming,” which Dan Bejar acknowledged with a wry grin. Nevertheless, Bejar’s “Jackie,” “Execution Day,” and “Testament to Youth in Reverse” comprised three of the best songs in the twenty-three song show, capping off an initially frustrating but ultimately sharp live performance.

-- Scott Lensing

Take Cover: No Alarms and No Surprises

2010-07-27T08:55:00.001-04:00

Amanda Palmer Performs the Popular Hits of Radiohead On Her Magical Ukelele

I was mega skeptical of this at first-- how many people can cover Radiohead well? and how many ukelele covers crash and burn in the attempt, leaning too heavily on the uniqueness of the instrument and failing to add a new dimension outside of that? -- but, intrigued by the news that former Dresden Doll Amanda Palmer sold over 4,000 copies of this album on her Bandcamp site and made over $15,000 in music and merch sales in THREE MINUTES on Tuesday, I decided to give it another shot.

Here is why her covers, especially "No Surprises" and "Idioteque," succeed in the fullest: Palmer handles the words and the melody with a deep carefulness that is so evident, so palpable, that it makes up for the lack of Yorke's distinctive voice. She aches and pleads like he does, but with a decidedly feminine dimension. And the ukelele, far from being the main gimmick, remains in the background. It's by no means better than the original, but it is one of the best attempts out there (along with that choir in The Social Network trailer).

Stream all seven traxx below:

-- Caroline Klibanoff

Review: The Roots, How I Got Over

2010-07-26T09:50:00.000-04:00

The Roots How I Got Over
8 afro picks out of 10

Evidently, while discussing the overall feel of his band’s most recent album, Black Thought opined that it had a more positive message than 2008’s Rising Down. Still, if you were expecting some sort of lighthearted album with a couple of nice summer jams, then you have come to the wrong place. The Roots may be “late night now like Here’s Johnny,” but they are still The Roots, and they will dumb it down for no man. Though a touch dark at the beginning, How I Got Over will make it such that no one forgets any time soon that The Legendary Roots Crew are still the best musicians in the game. Of course, Black Thought is no slouch on the mic, and with several excellent guest appearances, How I Got Over becomes yet another solid release from The Roots.

The Roots became the house band on Jimmy Fallon’s late night show in March 2009, which left fans of their live performances with precious few chances to catch them out at a venue, and, sadly, their performance at Earth Day was frequently marred by sound system malfunctions. Their LNJF Sandwiches (check it out if you want to spice up your iPhone ringtone Roots-style) were some of the only material available. Personally, I am impressed that the band found the time to record a full album while pulling double duty late at night, though I guess we shouldn’t expect anything less from such a dynamic group.

Until the title track ‘How I Got Over,’ the album dwells in rather dark territory reminiscent of Rising Down. “The road to perdition/guess I’m gonna get my plea on,” Black raps on ‘Walk Alone’ after verses from Roots regulars Truck North and P.O.R.N. “Trying to keep a singing man sane for the paying fans,” continues ‘Dear God 2.0,’ which laments the “Acid rain, earthquakes, hurricane, tsunamis” that leave Black “breakin’ it down/without an answer.”

Despite the dark message, I was super excited (and surprised) to hear the unmistakable voice of up and coming rapper Blu opening ‘Radio Daze.’ Apologies for the diversion here, but y’all, Blu is THE SHIT. He made it on a lot of “young rapper to watch” lists last year, but got low marks because he didn’t put out any material. Still, his ‘Soul Amazing’ mixtape from 2008 is still solidly entrenched in my playlist. Dude even raps over bluegrass and Spanish guitar beats (among many others) and kills it. If you need a good summer rap mixtape, look http://www.mediafire.com/?td3ybnyctut”>no further. It is worth mentioning that The Roots collaborated with Joanna Newsome (Right On), the Monsters of Folk (Dear God 2.0), and even Haley Dekle of the Dirty Projectors (Peace of Light) on this album. Clearly, they are not shying away from their more experimental… uh … roots. Even songs like ‘Peace of Light’ and ‘Tunnel Vision’, both sans lyrics, are well done.

How I Got Over is an album that starts dark buts get brighter. In fact, it seems that The Roots had a message in mind when they recorded it and placed the track order. The chorus of the title track seems to sum it up—“that type of thinking can get you nowhere, someone has to care.” As the album winds down we see a more hopeful message. “Whole new blueprint/Brand new layout” raps Phonte on ‘The Day,’ and Black wants to “move like a wise warrior and not a coward” on ‘The Fire.’ The albums final track, ‘Hustla,’ was the only one that I could genuinely not handle. The auto-tune baby cries make for quite a weird song, the album’s only miss. With plenty of interesting musicianship (if Kanye can be K-West, can’t we also have Q-Uest, am I wrong???) and still ample space for Black Thought to do what he does best, How I Got Over impresses. Lastly, if you haven’t had a chance to see The Roots live in concert, you really ought to do so. Not because I think they are going to stop touring or something, but because it will be worth the price of admission wherever they happen to be playing.

-- Mark Waterman

Review: Around the World and Back, Songs to Sleep To

2010-07-23T09:09:00.000-04:00

Around the World and Back
Songs to Sleep to
7/10 echoing ethereal voices

As far as album titles go, Around the World and Back’s album, Songs to Sleep to, is aptly titled. The music is full of hazy dream-like tunes. Between the repeated guitar riffs that echo through the music, to the jangling tambourine that is the only form of percussion, if any, on most of the tracks, the music carries you along the echoing voice of the lead singer and the melodies of the guitar. The only song that has any form of percussion is “@&%^” and the quiet drumbeat is definitely not going to get you up and moving.

The band, based in Albany, New York, describes themselves as “what people nowadays might label as an "indie-rock" band. Instead of fighting against being pigeon-holed as another wanna-be artsy alternative rock band, they embrace it. They run with it. They leave the comfort of their own home to bring their version of it to your homes.”

This is clear in their music, which neither tries to be overly pretentious about their sound, nor push too far away from the style they’ve been pegged as. In doing this, they do bring a new flavor to the sound of indie. They sound like a mix between Death Cab for Cutie and the Cinematic Orchestra. Everything sounds like it belongs in a dream sequence of a movie, or an emotional scene as a character drives down an empty highway. Songs to Sleep to will certainly not get you pumped for a night out, but provides the perfect relaxing background music to times of homework or contemplation. Each and every song blends together so that you’re not sure when the song even changes. It’s enough to lull you to sleep…in the best possible way.

Recommended tracks: “Why Won’t You Stay?” “

Bonus: You can download the entire 6-track album off their Myspace for FREE!

-- Kaitlin Carano

Review: Best Coast, Crazy for You

2010-07-22T14:26:00.000-04:00

Best Coast
Crazy For You
9.2/10

The unrequited crush: We’ve all been there. Pining away like Samantha Baker for Jake Ryan, wishing that a) Jake would notice us and sit on our kitchen counter with us, blowing out all 16 of our birthday candles, and that b) we had the perfect maudlin yet hopeful set of tunes to get us through the torment of it all. If any of that sounds familiar to you, then go ahead and turn off the Thompson Twins and switch on Best Coast to mend your breaking heart.

On July 27, California’s Bethany Cosentino and Bobb Bruno, aka Best Coast—who have been tempering teenage heartache for months with perfectly angst-ridden, lo-fi single after single—will finally release their first full-length album, Crazy for You. With a similar sound to the band’s earlier releases, such “Sun Was High (So Was I),” the new album is replete with romantic, hazy, California-sandy tunes, perfect for when you’re, as Cosentino puts it, “sitting all alone at home/ and waiting waiting waiting waiting waiting by the phone.” And, like each single and EP released up to this point (including the questionably trendy Kid Cudi and Rostam Batmanglij of Vampire Weekend mash up), Crazy for You does not disappoint.

Crazy isn’t simply a collection of mindless, boy-crazed sap songs—Cosentino’s creativity and musical knowledge lend a stellar quality to what has the potential to be superficial and repetitive fluff. As demonstrated by the Best Coast blog, Cosentino’s musical influences are ample and varied—the depth of which is reflected by her ability to turn the trite (you can only say “I wish I had a boyfriend” so many ways) into heartrending, universally appealing music. Her wide-ranging inspiration creates subtle, yet hugely different, transitions—evoking everything from 90s Nirvana-esque angst to poppy 60s girl band riffs—that save the music from becoming monotonous and reveal the depth of the band’s well-crafted personality.

With simple but poignant lyrics that could easily have been torn from Molly Ringwald’s diary (“Last night I went out with this guy/he was nice/he was nice and cute/but he wasn’t you”), Cosentino’s perfectly drawling voice gives an uncomplicated and much needed reprieve from whatever ails you. Whether it’s boys or your boring summer job, each three-minute jangle strikes all the right notes. A combination of the Go-Gos, The Beach Boys, and The Primitives, Best Coast supplies 29 minutes of genuine summer-lovin’ bliss that lives up to the expectations created by months of singles, EPs, and cat images (an homage to Cosentino’s feline companion, “Snacks”).

Recommendations: “Boyfriend,” “I Want To,” and “When I’m With You,” but seriously all of them, ideally in a row while biking past his house repeatedly.

-- Emma Forster

Review: Francis and the Lights, It'll Be Better - AND full album stream!

2010-07-22T09:15:00.002-04:00

Francis and the Lights

It’ll Be Better

The 80s are back. Well, kind of, and minus the embarrassing outfits. Since the calendar says it is technically 2010 you might find it a little difficult to understand how we have traveled back to the decade when dressing like this was socially acceptable. I am listening to It’ll Be Better, Francis and the Lights’ newly released, fourth studio album and Back to the Future seems a little more appropriate right now. Often described as a mix between Prince and Phil Collins, Francis and the Lights incorporates everything that was great about 80s pop music while still remaining musically in touch with modern day culture.

Musically, It’ll Be Better is a solid album. None of the lyrics on the album are profound but lead vocalist Francis Farewell Starlite sings with such a relaxed voice that I cannot help but to sing along. My favorite track off the album, “In a Limousine” is one of the more upbeat tracks ones and has the catchiest hook (“it doesn’t matter, save it for a rainy day...it doesn’t matter just put it in your pocket” --> such optimism!). The first released single off the album, “For Days,” makes me imagine myself in a room with low lights, a disco ball and a pair of bright pink hot pants.

I wouldn’t call this the best album of the summer but there are definitely a few songs off the album that I plan on using for late night, summer dance party playlists.

-- Dominique Barron

Review: Tokyo Police Club, Champ

2010-07-21T14:26:00.001-04:00

Tokyo Police Club
Champ
7 stoplight dance sessions out of 10 stoplight dance sessions

Tokyo Police Club has long been a go-to band for my mix CD addiction, which reached its peak during the years of high school that I had my own car and was forced to listen to the insufferable local radio if I wasn’t proactive about it. Historically, their music has made me want to dance. And yeah, maybe sing a long a little bit too. Loudly. So what I’m saying here is that I used to look like an insane person freaking out to this band in my car.

That part of me is a little bummed that their latest release, Champ, has a more toned down sound. The other part – the part that appreciates when bands evolve for the better – is actually pretty excited. Where the percussion usually drove their tracks before, the band now relies more on guitar and vocals. You can actually hear and understand singer/bassist Dave Monks on this album. And did you know there’s a keyboardist in this band? Yeah, I didn’t either. But you can now hear him as well, especially on tracks like “Bambi.” Check out the synth, too. It’s crazy.

Lyrically, Champ is an incredibly introspective album – likely the result of the two years it took Tokyo Police Club to write and produce it. Where once their songs focused almost exclusively on dating and “kid stuff” (come on, they were young!), they have now expanded to cover topics like growing old, leaving home, dealing with changing relationships, and the fear of missing out on life. Take the track “End of a Spark,” for example – when he put you to bed, / your great-grandfather always said / “Wasting is an art.” / Well, it’s a good thing I was young then. Guys, you're still young - but I appreciate your point anyway.

This isn’t the rag-tag group of guys in their early 20s that made a splash on the blog scene almost five years ago. Meet the older, more thoughtful Tokyo Police Club. I might not be able to thrash around in my car while singing along with Champ, but I’ll definitely keep listening.

-- Emily Simpson

District Dialect: The Dubliner

2010-07-21T10:00:00.000-04:00

The District Dialect: The Dubliner by igorgerman

Nico Dodd goes behind the scenes of The Dubliner, DC's best known Irish Pub, and explores the culture of live music that exists there.

Review: Admiral Radley, I Heart California

2010-07-20T14:14:00.000-04:00

Admiral Radley

I Heart California

Admiral Radley is a union of four long-time friends and indie musicians - Jason Lytle and Aaron Burtch of Granddaddy with Aaron Espinoza and Ariana Murray of Earlimart. They initially tried to express this collaborative effort in the band's name, wavering between Grandimart and Earlidaddy, but realized that these were not very good names for a rock band. Inspiration struck when the band mates had a chance encounter with a mysterious seaman, who called himself Admiral Radley and suggested they name their band after him and “go forth and play shows and spread [their] loose and enjoyable message.” They took his advice. This proved to be a much more fitting name for the Golden State musicians, who make music intimately tied to their coastal roots with an understated coolness.

This project is similar in style to what these bands have produced over the years, and is stamped with Jason Lytle's lighthearted pop sound, while Earlimart contributes a folksier element, with ethereal electronic noises and breathy vocals common throughout. The album opens with its title track, on the surface a catchy synth-pop ode to the band’s home state, although a satirical derision of California life lurks in the verses, as Lytle pokes fun at drugs in diaper bags and “fake tits.” The track strikes a balance between its hook-driven, upbeat pop aspect and the reflective, yet witty lyrics, something that these musicians have made a career of, and aptly bring to this album.

Somewhat surprisingly, the Earlimart compositions are what really stand out on the album, with “Ending of Me” and “Chingas in the West” proving to be two of the album’s best tracks. Espinoza’s other contributions, “Ghosts of Syllables” and “Lonesome Co.,” are also both stirring and pleasant tracks, carried by layered acoustic and electric guitars complemented by piano and synth riffs. Not to be outdone, Murray supplies a wonderful love song in “The Thread,” affectionately singing poetic lyrics like “Will we live to 98? Watch our hair go gray / Will we go out with a bang? Will we fade away? / In other words I hope that we'll still hold hands / and laugh about the way things end.”

Admiral Radley are heartfelt at times, catchy at others, but they never take themselves too seriously; they mock the Governator in “I Heart California,” and even made a karaoke video to complement the single; during a section of “Sunburn Kids” they mention various countries and play instruments characteristic of each place; they sing songs about Star Trek (“GNDN”) and skateboarding (“Red Curbs”). However, underneath the pop hooks and humorous references are well-crafted and compelling songs. As Espinoza put it, it’s "a fun record with serious moments.” For example, in “GNDN,” one of Lytle’s best contributions to the album, he tenderly sings about “Spock” and the Enterprise, and the catchy hook “It goes nowhere / and it does nothing” is a reference to Star Trek, but the song may also be a metaphor for the musicians themselves, as when he sings "The critics would say the sounds you would make were so second-rate / and your instruments were fake / well of course they were fake.”

Unfortunately, their casual attitude causes them to miss the mark on occasion. “I’m All Fucked on Beer” is a frantic party anthem that seemed to be a lot of fun to make, as all the band members drunkenly yell the chorus with their tongues comfortably planted in their cheeks and can be heard laughing in the studio as the recording ends. This time though, their ode to good times just ends up being obnoxious, with its heavy distortion, incessant backbeat, and yelled vocals. All in all though, these seasoned indie artists do not disappoint, delivering fun and sincere pop songs that ooze with west coast influences and summer living, providing plenty of reasons to heart Admiral Radley.

-- Jared Iversen