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

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

Review: Tokyo Police Club, Champ

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

Did the Intern Show Up? Vol. 4: DJ Turn The Music Up

Dear KFN Resident DJs,

You used to scare the shit out of me, way back when I thought you were all the coolest dudes around. Rolling into the bar right around the time the headlining band would be wrapping up their set and preparing to clear off the stage with your cases of records and confident smiles, you had me convinced that your job more or less involved a) looking cool; b) giving lots of high fives; c) being excellent at partying; and d) the whole spinning records thing. So yeah, far be it from me, the lowly intern, to think I was rad enough to hang out with any of you.

Then, of course, I actually got to know you. Ha. Now I’m going to introduce you to everyone else, at least as well as I can given the limitations of the internet (and my vocabulary, because wow, all eloquence seemed to go out the window with the rest of my dignity on the El ride home last night). Just kidding about that last bit. Hi, Mom.

Anyway! The easiest way to organize this post is probably by day of the week, which means that Thursday’s Night Train duo, Ian St. Laurent and Dennis Wolf.fang, are up first. Night Train starts at 11:00 on the dot (give or take) every week, usually drawing a ridiculous amount of people to come party and dance to the fusion of soul/electro/rock music that these guys have become known for. But the thing that stands out most about Dennis and Ian is that they’re soulmates of some kind or another if I’ve ever seen any – nearly perfect complements to each other. Right now they’ve even got the dark-light bit going, Dennis sporting some kind of blond and Ian with his signature black. Watching them spin together, that connection is subtle but palpable, and it’s part of what makes Night Train work so well. They’re an absolute blast and really sweet, the kind of people who will meet you once back in April and still remember your name three months later.

Fridays we play host to Robotique, a dance party of the disco variety brought to you by two dudes named Billy W and Ryan T. First of all: sweetest guys ever. Huge music nerds, really passionate about what they do, always talking about the latest awesome vinyl find. Lately they’ve been hosting a lot of guest DJs, local and touring alike, to supplement their sets. Best news, even? THEY JUST HAD A BARBECUE, AND IT WAS AWESOME. With no show, we started two hours early and just ate outside on the patio. Probably one of the more chill events the bar has seen lately, all the product of Billy and Ryan being awesome and knowing good people. Robotique: spinning disco magic and grilling surprisingly edible food right here in Philadelphia. Check it.

Saturdays at KFN work on a rotation-type schedule. First Saturdays, the England Belongs To Twee DJs spin a bunch of stuff called “oi,” which is a mixture of old-school English punk and rock. Unfortunately, that’s about all I can tell you guys, as I haven’t had the opportunity to meet them personally. Second Saturdays Broadzilla rolls through with DJs KT, Thom & James behind the wheel(s). You can download their fantastic mix of Hipster Trainwreck Anthems here to get a rough idea of what they sound like live. Apparently, as they get progressively drunker throughout the evening, they break out the Gwen Stefani more and more frequently. The thought of three grown men (I may have giggled a little bit while typing that out) breaking it down to No Doubt should really be enough to make you want to check these DJzillas out in person. Third Saturdays we have Drumsong, hosted by the awesome-but-yet-to-be-encountered-in-person Sean Thomas. Sean has been an excellent Facebook friend thus far, however, providing me not only with information so I can properly promote his event, but with fun Steven-banter as well. A++++. And…that’s about it, actually. There couldn’t possibly be anything important that I’ve forgotten.

Oh hush, Shawn Ryan, you know I’m just kidding. I needed a paragraph break anyway. Months are rounded out by the 80s dance party known as Steppin Out, hosted by the aforementioned Shawn and the guy whose picture is next to the word “cool” in the dictionary – Dirty – on fourth Saturdays. There’s a rumor that this party numbers among the more successful ones at KFN, a rumor which I refuse to believe based solely on the fact that their most recent promotion technique was using Rick Astley. Every time I saw a poster, or handed out a flyer, or made the mistake of glancing at the Facebook event, it was like being Rickrolled. Granted, that song never actually assaulted the ears of anyone present, but having it stuck in my head for about a month was something akin to torture. This is the kind of stuff I have to put up with. Sympathy cards can be mailed to my Philadelphia address, thanks.

No but seriously, the DJs are a huge part of what makes Kung Fu Necktie the incredible place that it is. These guys and gals are all stupidly talented (or “stupid AND talented,” as my friend DEL so lovingly pointed out), all genuinely care about the Philadelphia art scene, all work hard to make sure that people have a good time and that the community benefits as well. I don’t really know what else to even add at this point. I feel like I always just end up gushing about people here – it’s embarrassing.

And on that note, I’m going to head out and go watch some of these guys spin. It seems crazy, but that never gets old.

Go figure,

The Intern

Did The Intern Show Up? Vol. 3: They Like Me, They Really Like Me!

Yo man, I’m stoked to tell you about this jawn I’ve been thinking about all week for the column. It’ll be so punk that nothing will be able to bum you out for the rest of the day. Did you understand that? Yes? Good. That means you’ve been paying attention. If you haven’t, first know that I’m glaring at you right now. Then click on my name at the bottom of this entry and go educate yourself. This is invaluable knowledge I’m providing right here. Take advantage of it, love it, learn it. Say “thank you” in the comment section to stroke my ego.

Now that I’m done being obnoxious (because seriously, what fun is having your own column if you can’t take advantage of it every now and then?), I feel like it might be time to explore the strange dynamics of affection within an environment like Kung Fu Necktie. Keep in mind, before we begin, that the entire staff – with the exception of maybe two bartenders, oh, and me – is of the male variety. Unsurprisingly, this results in a lot of name-calling, teasing, waving around of rude hand gestures, etc. Think pulling each other’s pigtails, except…well. None of them have pigtails. Although now I can’t stop picturing Steven and Jamie with pigtails, so I’m sitting in this coffee shop laughing alone at my computer screen like a complete asshole. THANKS GUYS. I’m gonna go Photoshop that later.

That part of things was pretty easy to figure out, as it’s more or less spelled out in the dude manual or wherever the collection of appropriate male-male interactions is outlined. What’s been a little more challenging to discern are the dynamics of affection between the guys and myself, and I think that’s true for both sides. We’re now almost three weeks into the summer though, the semi-but-not-too-awkward tension of introducing a new presence into an established group fading quickly, and I think I’ve started to figure it out. So now, I would like to proudly present to you, my loyal (or maybe not-so-loyal) readers, a series of moments collectively titled “How I Know That People at KFN Don’t Hate Me.” I know, I think it’s a pretty great title, too. Remember, save your praise for the comments.

Jamie is pretty upfront about what he thinks about everything, so he’s the easiest one to start with. The day after we met, I sent him an e-mail with my phone number attached in case he ever needed extra help running shows at some of the other venues that R5 books. His response included his own phone number as well as this gem of a sentence: “It’s good that you’re not a know-it-all moron like Steven’s last intern.” Then the next time we hung out he tried to convince me that death match wrestling is the greatest sport on the planet. That’s about the equivalent of twenty gold stars in the Jamie Getz book of life.

Now I already knew that Steven liked me because he’s got some control issues (not a bad thing in this line of work, to be honest), and his allowing me to do certain things is like hanging up a flashing neon sign proclaiming approval. So that’s cool. But hey, remember the part of the last column when I admitted up-front to being a huge Facebook creep and said that it would feature prominently in this column? Yep. More screen-caps! I’m going to let this one speak for itself. Just know that when I saw it for the first time I caught myself wanting to say “Awww,” out loud. Ridiculous.

Did The Intern Show Up? Vol. 2: Lingo.

Today’s post is brought to you courtesy of 75-degree days and homeless foot fetishists trying to convince me to take my shoes off in Clark Park (West Philly, I love you so much). Steven’s response to the text message I sent about that? “You should have asked him for $$$$$$!” My boss, ladies and gentlemen. Encouraging park prostitution since 2010. All of this is true.

So let’s talk for a second about how I now sound like every other middle-aged punk and skate kid in the city of Philadelphia. The first week here, I had no idea what anyone was talking about roughly 60% of the time. There would just be these words, and people would say them to each other and nod like they made complete sense while I sat in the corner with what I’m sure was a really attractive confused look on my face. Yes, of course, I understand what you’re saying. Except for the part where I don’t, not at all.

Steven finally noticed that one day when he did his whole pointing vaguely and asking me to do whatever thing and I just looked at him. He took pity on me and tried to break down the lingo so that I could a) understand what people were saying and b) actually respond without sounding like an idiot. Here’s what I learned:

• jawn – functions kind of like the word “widget,” used to refer to a random thing; can also be used to refer to a girl; i.e. Can you get me that jawn over there? or Damn, look at the jawn in the purple cut-offs.
• punk – used to refer to anything cool or widely accepted as being awesome; i.e. Fishtown Pizza delivers for free? That’s punk. or Ticket surcharges are so not punk.
• hoagie – what people in Philly call their sandwiches
• bummed out – frequently used to express disappointment, sadness, mild anger, or frustration; i.e. Man, Chicken would be so bummed out if he saw this.
• yo – always an acceptable form of greeting or way of grabbing someone’s attention
• stoked – really excited; i.e. I’m so stoked for the Post Post show in August! That band is rad.
• man – the regional replacement for the word “dude,” which people will make fun of you for using

Concert Review: Disappears, Woven Bones, Far-Out Fangtooth (Philadelphia, PA)

Disappears w/ Woven Bones and Far-Out Fangtooth
Kung Fu Necktie (Philadelphia, PA)
June 17, 2010

Okay, I’ll admit it. As much as I like my bearded bards of folk music and hipster heroes of indie rock, my heart will always more or less belong to the lo-fi garage rock scene. I live for the fuzzed-out noise, the relentless guitars, the almost impossible to understand vocals. If I could do nothing but go to crowded warehouse shows of this variety for the rest of my life, I would probably be the happiest person on the planet. Give me your unbearably tight black jeans, your whiskey drinkers, your crappy black hair dye.

Basically, give me shows like the one Chicago band Disappears played on June 17^th at Kung Fu Necktie, my venue drug of choice, with Austin trio Woven Bones and Philadelphia locals Far-Out Fangtooth. I wasn’t even planning to write this review, but I feel like it would be a public disservice not to after how incredible the night turned out to be. Turnout was modest, thanks to a Pissed Jeans concert around the corner and Game 7 of whatever everyone’s pretending to care about this week, but that didn’t seem to matter to the bands at all. Every. Single. One. KILLED. IT. See the excessive punctuation? See the capital letters? Yeah. That good. It’s really quite difficult to communicate just how much so without the frantic gestures I’m currently making at my computer. Use your imagination.

Far-Out Fangtooth is one of those bands that does garage with a hint of rockabilly, something that you might not initially notice by listening to their recordings on MySpace. Even the way the four of them were dressed highlighted their distinctive sound. One guitarist sported jet-black hair, a ripped jean jacket, tight jeans, black boots. The other wore a simple white shirt-blue jean combo and had the look of pre-fame Kings of Leon. Their female bassist was tiny and punkish, but also quite sweet, and spent most of the set sitting quietly off to the side. On drums was perhaps the most interestingly dressed guy of the bunch, wearing a shaman-poncho looking thing with complete normalcy. For their first show at KFN, Fangtooth were loud, confident, and unabashedly proud of what they were doing. Everyone noticed, too. Fun fact – they stuck around after the show for weekly resident DJ gig Night Train to spin a set, which they started out with Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus.” Yep.

Did the Intern Show Up? New column!

Over here at WGTB, we get pretty excited about new columns, especially in the summertime. And this one is gonna be good. Below, the first installment of DJ Emily Simpson's “Did the Intern Show Up?”: A Diary of Long Nights & Even Longer E-mail Threads From a Philadelphia Music Club.

Hello! Welcome to my new column, a venture that could just as easily be titled “What I Did During My Summer Vacation” and exists more or less for the purpose of my telling absurd stories about the people and problems I deal with on a daily basis. Since June 1, I have held the not-exactly-coveted title of intern for Kung Fu Necktie, which is hands-down the most unique bar-slash-music-venue I have ever seen. Located in Fishtown, a neighborhood of Northeast Philadelphia, it holds about 120 people at full capacity – think along the lines of DC9 or the backstage at The Black Cat.

I’m sure you’re wondering why they would even need an intern. Sucks to be you then, because I don’t have the answer to that particular question, even after the thousandth time I’ve been asked. What I can tell you (briefly) is what I actually do. I am officially or unofficially in charge of: updating the website/calendar, maintaining the Facebook and Twitter pages, keeping track of the sound techs, working as “band liaison” (aka telling them how to get their drinks at the bar), printing will-call ticket lists, losing at pool, checking IDs, working the door, helping out the bartenders, moving amps, filling out paperwork to settle with bands after shows, and texting my boss reminders about absolutely everything. There’s more, never fear. The duties of the intern – or the slave, as some of the patrons have taken to calling me – are endless and varied.

Doesn’t my job sound fun? Don’t you want to move to Philadelphia immediately and have a cage match or drinking contest to decide who gets to keep it? No? That’s okay. I actually kind of adore it. A lot of that has to do with the people, who I swear on a huge stack of vinyl I am not making up or exaggerating at all. Here’s a brief introduction, so in the future you can pretend to have a vague idea of what I’m talking about. Or not. It’s completely up to you.

Concert Review: This Will Destroy You (Philadelphia, PA)

(photo courtesy Music Underfire)

Concert Review: This Will Destroy You w/ Light Pollution and Slow Six
Kung Fu Necktie (Philadelphia, PA)
June 11, 2010

I suppose I should begin this concert review with a disclaimer: I am currently an intern (whatever that means, even I'm not entirely sure yet) at the bar where this show took place. That means that I have exposure to all of the bands both before and after the show, that I get to deal with sound check and scheduling problems and cranky tour managers - the whole deal. Not that it should affect anything I write about the show, because it won't. I just thought you all should know in the interest of fair and honest journalism and all that jazz.

Allow me to actually begin this review by saying a few words about the opening bands, who are each deserving of their own article of praise. First up was Brooklyn band Slow Six, a group of five guys with an obvious classical interest in music. There were two equal violinists onstage alongside a keyboardist, a drummer, and a guitarist. No vocals were necessary for the sweeping sounds of their own miniature orchestra, the songs themselves both lulling and engaging without being too overbearing or difficult to follow. At this point, I can't say that there was much of a crowd to speak of, but those who were there found themselves unable to look away from the stage. Not showy at all, the members of Slow Six managed to grab attention solely through their prowess and obvious love of the music they were playing. And just as a fun side note from the backstage end of things, some of the guys were pretty shy and blushed a lot when they were given compliments (which happened a lot). Overall, definitely a band to look out for in the future. They're going places quietly, but surely.

Review: Kurt Vile, Square Shells EP

Kurt Vile

Square Shells EP
9.2 chilled PBRs out of 10 chilled PBRs

I’m not going to lie about it – when I listened to the first song off of Kurt Vile’s latest EP, I wasn’t really sold. “Ocean City” is the kind of low-key song that brings to mind a chilled out Beach Boys sound, the kind of stuff that everyone seems to be making these days. Not bad by any means, but I was worried that the entire EP would follow in that pattern.

And then I got to the end of the song, and I realized that I was completely, stupidly wrong. Kurt Vile is nothing if not innovative. That particular song, with all its guitar strumming and simple melodies, fades out with the touch of electric sound that weaves its way throughout the rest of the record. Square Shells is a landscape of sound, eclectic but somehow managing to pull it off without appearing to try too hard. Some tracks incorporate samples, some rely on electric guitar, some have vocals, one might even have what sounds like an electric accordion. I could go on and on, and honestly I could not list everything on this record.

Such a wide variety of influences makes it pretty clear that composition is incredibly important to Kurt Vile, and it shows most in tracks like “The Finder,” which has no vocals at all (and it’s the one with the accordion, which makes it even better). It’s this strangely hypnotic melody, quiet in all the right ways, and by the time it’s over you will guaranteed want to listen to it again, and again, and again…until you’re either in some kind of weird trance or you’ve fallen asleep to have blissed out dreams. This is going to sound strange, but I would actually love to see him play this in a church. Maybe on an organ.

The point here being that once I start using seemingly unrelated and random associations for songs on an album, it’s just too good or too unique to put into familiar musical terms (I could throw in the phrase “lo-fi” for good measure, if that helps at all). Square Shells is brimming with everything that is missing from so much of the new music put out these days and rated by Pitchfork. It’s “found art” at its very best and its most genuine. There is absolutely no excuse not to go get this EP immediately and put it on your permanent rotation.

I’m serious. Right now.

- Emily Simpson

Tracks to check out first: “The Finder,” “Invisibility: Nonexistent”

Review: Nada Surf, If I Had a Hi-Fi

Nada Surf

if i had a hi-fi

B+

Don’t lie to me – I know you listened to Nada Surf in the 90’s. And you loved them. You played “Popular” so many times even your mother had to sit you down and tell you to seriously, knock it off. Or at least alternate it with the similar sounds of Weezer. Then when Death Cab for Cutie’s Chris Walla produced their next semi-widely played album in 2002, you probably revisited them for kicks (until you realized that yeah, that album sounded like it was produced by someone who plays in a band with Ben Gibbard).

Well, two years after their last release – 2008’s Lucky, which got as much play as you think it did – the band has come out with their sixth studio album. Allow me to introduce Nada Surf’s latest album, a collection of covers ranging from Spoon to Kate Bush, by saying that its title incorporates two of my favorite things: a lack of capital letters, and a palindrome. Look! if i had a hi-fi. Isn’t it cool?

Yes, yes it is. The album itself is pretty cool as well. It is Nada Surf at their alternative rock pop-y best, upbeat and somehow cohesive despite the wide range in song choices. Each cover is very obviously homage to the people and melodies that impacted the members of Nada Surf, lovingly and thoughtfully crafted to reflect both the original and the band’s own particular sound. By doing so, it doesn’t seem so weird that Depeche Mode’s gloomy synthpop “Enjoy the Silence” and The Soft Pack’s garage rock “Bright Side” share the same track listing.

But why a cover album, and why now? That's a question that the band has apparently not decided to address, at least not yet. It's a risky move if done incorrectly - people will likely speculate that the band has run out of material, or decided to take the easy route to make a few bucks. Nada Surf doesn't seem to lean towards either of these motives, though, which is interesting in itself. This cover album feels more like the band is rediscovering its sound by examining the sounds of others that they find appealing. In my opinion, they have succeeded in doing exactly that. This sounds like Nada Surf to me, the Nada Surf that broke out in the nineties and refused to step off the stage in the years that followed. Want to know why I think I'm right? This is also the first record that the band has produced completely independently. No DCFC guitarists, no Ric Ocasek. Just three guys in their forties looking to make the music they love, and I think that's great.

if i had a hi-fi, with Matthew Caws’s smooth vocals and the familiar, not necessarily ground-breaking but still enjoyable, alternative nineties rock sound, will most likely be gracing my summer rotation more frequently than I ever expected a Nada Surf album to. Sitting by the kiddie pool in my tiny backyard, I will be able to listen to Kate Bush and Spoon re-imagined by a band from my youth without even getting up to mess with iTunes. Life – and this album – is good. Really, surprisingly good.

Tracks to look out for: "Bye Bye Beaute" (Coralie Clement) and "Love Goes On" (The Go-Betweens)

- Emily Simpson

Inteveniew! Behind the Scenes at U St. Music Hall

Name: Will Eastman

Profession: DJ, co-owner of U Street Music Hall

Music at U-Hall is: “eclectic, provocative, left-of-center,” “forward-looking,” “accessible”

DJs: in his apartment, for Bliss (DC’s most famous monthly dance party)

Managing a music club: “is a lot of fucking work, at least if you want it done right. But I'm happy.”

   

Will Eastman has 8,000 records, a graduate degree from George Washington University, and one-sixth ownership in the recently opened U Street Music Hall. Will Eastman is maybe the coolest person I’ve met in a long, long time.

Which is fitting, really, considering the fact that the club he helps manage is definitely the coolest place I’ve been this year. Relatively nondescript on the outside front, the building opens to reveal…a staircase, of all things. The stairs lead down into a basement-style dance floor, complete with two adjoining bars, several booths, a small stage for live bands, and an impressive DJ booth lining the back wall.

 “I started off DJing for parties in my parents’ basement when they were out of town,” Eastman grins unrepentantly. “Basements are the best environments for dance parties.” And though he has essentially moved from playing in one basement to, well, playing in a much larger one, he has certainly come a long way from his hometown of Neenah, Wisconsin (which is famous for the production of manhole covers, as it happens).

He began his official career as a DJ began in the same month as his job as a historian for the Smithsonian Institute, where he developed public programs and exhibitions in the areas of technology and inventors. Even there, he never strayed far from his passion. His research focused largely on the history of the electric guitar and sound recording techniques – a focus that lined up perfectly with his night job. After nine years of trying to juggle the two, both of which he loved, Eastman realized that he had to make a decision. (read more)

The Hood Internet, Rafter, Stout Cortez Rock Bulldog Alley

WGTB wrapped up its Spring Cleaning Concert Series with our second spring concert this past Friday night in Bulldog Alley. The Hood Internet, the awesome DJ duo with a penchant for indie bands and lots of R. Kelly, melted faces with their songs and opener Rafter equally impressed with their danceable experimental rock. Senior Justin Hunter Scott, aka Stout Cortez, opened up the whole show to the delight of the crowd.

Check out pictures below, and stay tuned for the posting of an interview with the Hood Internet hosted by Saxappeal.




Photos courtesy Emily Simpson

Review: Murder by Death, Good Morning, Magpie

Murder by Death

Good Morning, Magpie

C

I’m just going to go ahead and say it: for the majority of this album, I was confused. Plain and simple. Murder By Death – which, by the way, is an incredibly terrible name, but that’s another discussion entirely – has produced a record with so many genre influences it’s nearly impossible to keep track of them all. The introduction, a thirty-four second bit espousing someone’s love of “sweet Kentucky bourbon,” calls to mind the image of smoky saloons and grizzled old men strumming away on their guitars. When the song that follows immediately after is essentially an ode to the wonders of whiskey, the album is starting to look like an alt-country one that moves its way through my great-grandfather’s liquor cabinet. But oh, how wrong that assumption would be. From that point onward, the band introduces horns, harps, and an electric cello, of all things, with the only apparent goal being confusing the hell out of anyone listening. Sometimes Good Morning, Magpie leans toward a sound that would be wildly applauded at stops along Warped Tour, sometimes it walks the fine line between rock and metal. 

I don’t know if the band is having an identity crisis at all, but at this point I kind of am. That’s not to say that the album is entirely unpleasant. Guitarist Adam Turla’s voice is difficult to describe – a strangely attractive crooning that sounds as if he’s seen everything the world has to offer, twice. The sense of world-weariness makes tracks like “King of the Gutters, Prince of the Dogs” and “Foxglove” a welcome respite from the scattered nature of the rest of the album.

That being said, Murder By Death is neither a band to write off entirely nor the next band that will land a spot on your heavy rotation. If they can figure out some kind of coherent identity within their music, however, they do have a shot at producing something a little better than the all-over-the-place mess that is Good Morning, Magpie.

           

P.S. If you’re looking for a laugh, swing by their Wikipedia page. Not only are their album names all equally terrible, but the attempt to narrow down their genre is amusing. Actually, the entire page is amusing. Just go.

Tolerable Songs: “King of the Gutters, Prince of the Dogs” and “Foxglove”

Overall Grade: C

-- Emily Simpson

"Don’t You Wish We Were NPR?" Mondays 8-10 am on WGTB

Interveniew! Behind the Scenes at Rock & Roll Hotel

Name: Steve Lambert

Official Position: Booking Manager

At Rock + Roll Hotel since: October 2006

Favorite Shows: “I saw Phoenix play about a year ago, when they were still kind of under the radar for some reason. They’re definitely one of the best live bands – incredibly accessible to their audience.”

Excited about: the new Liars record, the Crime in Stereo concert at DC9 in May, the fact that people like Mayer Hawthorne can produce throwback stuff that younger generations are getting into

              I wish I could say that I didn’t go to the Rock and Roll Hotel for my interview with Steve Lambert fresh off a Chinatown bus from Philadelphia, but, well, that’s what happened. Still wearing last night’s clothing and frustrated by the perils of cheap transportation, I was definitely not as prepared as I would have liked to be standing outside and trying to figure out how to work the intercom buzzer. But the girl who puts me out of my misery by opening the door shoots me a friendly smile as she leads the way to Steve Lambert, and I feel a little bit of the tension dissipate.

              In the middle of the afternoon, the Rock and Roll Hotel is eerily empty – most of the lights are off, the doors to the main stage area are closed and foreboding, and the stairs creak as we climb to the second level of the club. The office is tucked away in a hall just past the upstairs bar area, cozy but not cramped, and littered with fliers promoting both past and future shows. Lambert himself fits in well with the environment, dressed comfortably in jeans and a t-shirt that displays his fondness for tattoos. He rises to shake my hand with a quiet smile before settling back into his obviously well used desk chair.

              “So,” he begins, “what would you like to know?” And with that, we’re off. Lambert works as the booking manager for two DC venues in addition to Rock and Roll Hotel: The Red and the Black, which tends to support the smallest local and touring bands, and DC9, whose manager I spoke with earlier in the month. He began his career as an industry professional in 2000, working his way up from booking underground acts for parties, alternative space shows and bars to his current position booking the acts with the some of the greatest momentum. (more after the jump!)

Interveniew! Behind the Scenes at DC9

In this new weekly series, DJ Emily Simpson takes us behind the scenes at major DC music venues and chats with the people who make the action happen. For her inaugural installment, Simpson headed to DC9 to meet with Bill Spieler.

Name: Bill Spieler

Age: 46

Sign: Pisces

Official Title: Managing Partner at DC9

Favorite album of 2010 (so far): Vampire Weekend’s Contra (“But I’m really looking forward to the new MGMT album, Congratulations.”)

Favorite DC bands: Exit Clov, Alex Gruenberg, Vita Ruins

Craziest thing to happen at DC9: “There was one night when I was over at The Red and The Black, and I got a call from one of my employees at DC9. They were shutting down the bar, it must have been 3:30-4:00 in the morning at that point, and apparently some guy in the diner next door had shot at something in the bathroom. Technically it wasn’t in this particular space, but still. I was just glad no one here was hurt. There used to always be these four teenaged kids smoking weed in front of that diner, too. You could smell it everywhere.”

Meaning behind the venue’s name: “Well it’s pretty straightforward. We’re in the District of Columbia, and this is 9^th Street.”

The first thing Bill Spieler does after shaking my hand is to offer me a beer, setting the stage for a comfortable and low-key interview. In that way he is very much like the bar and music venue he helps to manage. DC9, with its cozy bar area downstairs and intimate stage area upstairs, provides a down to earth atmosphere that can be quite elusive in a city as vibrant as Washington, D.C. Nowhere to be found is the pretension that frequently inhabits the indie music scene. Here again, Spieler and his venue are quite similar.

 “It’s more about what I don’t do,” he laughs in response to a question about his actual job description. As it turns out, that is only one thing: booking. Everything else seems to fall under his jurisdiction. He lists off several of the tasks he can remember doing recently, ranging from helping out in the kitchen to handling the paperwork to DJing every couple of weeks.

Review: The Whigs, In the Dark

The Whigs

In the Dark
C+

The first association everyone seems to want to make with garage rock trio The Whigs is to fellow Southerners Kings of Leon – and sadly, I must agree with everyone when comparing both bands’ most recent albums. In The Dark and Only By The Night are almost identical in the fact that they signal the transition from raw, indie Southern rock to packaged, Hollywood-produced noise. That doesn’t mean that it’s unpleasant to listen to, necessarily; just that it’s almost entirely unoriginal.

The song arrangements are repetitive and formulaic. Take a basic bass line, add a strong but simple percussion beat, top it all off with an arching guitar solo and power vocals, and voila! You have, more or less, the entirety of In The Dark. There are slight variations of course, as with the slower but no more artistically crafted “I Don’t Even Care About The One I Love,” but for the most part, The Whigs stick to their formula.

And it does work, to an extent. The album is by no means impossible to enjoy if you’re in the market for a mindless but fun excuse to bust out your air instruments and scream along with the music. The Whigs are upbeat, they’re loud, they’re having fun. It’s obvious that they’re hoping for their audience to achieve something similar, even as they fall incredibly short. If you like your albums to be a little more carefully crafted, a little more clever, a little more engaging, then In The Dark is most definitely not for you. I’ll probably keep it in my iTunes library, though, in case the urge to head bang while in Lau ever strikes.
Song Picks: "Black Lotus," "Kill Me Carolyne"

- Emily Simpson
Host, "Don't You Wish We Were NPR?" Monday 8:00-10:00 AM on WGTB

Catch our on-air interview with The Whigs here

Review: Butterfly Bones, Pretty Feelings

Butterfly Bones
Pretty Feelings
B

With an album cover that looks like something you’d see in a kaleidoscope and the track listing done in colors only found in the gel pens of preteen girls, the first release by Butterfly Bones looks a little absurd. I found myself hoping that the band was at least being ironic with their art; as it turns out, they’re something better. They’re good. Think Passion Pit with a lead singer who sounds a lot more like Interpol’s Paul Banks and a vibe that’s more relaxing than bursting at the seams.

While Pretty Feelings only contains five tracks at a total run time of twenty-two brief (but enjoyable) minutes, it feels complete and it knocks around in your head for a while after listening. So if you’re at all into spacing out with music made by individuals who are, as they claim in the opening track, “strong, charming, indelible, and elegant,” Butterfly Bones just might be the next band for you.
Best Tracks: “Xoxo” and “R U My Mother??”

-- Emily Simpson
Host, Don’t You Wish We Were NPR? Mondays 8-10 AM on WGTB