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Sometimes I feel like I'm always the last to know when bands I like dissolve their holy unions. The latest in this litany of band disbandings is Austin's most excellent, and sadly under-appreciated space cadets Sound Team. Evidently, while I was getting acclimated to living here in Richmond, the members of Sound Team were calling it a day. Here's the story, from the mouth (or blog) of one of the founding members, Bill Baird:
"Hello friends, By now you might have heard that Sound Team is disbanding, so to speak. The reasons are numerous and boring, so I will spare details. They are the typical band problems: stress of the road, diverging tastes, personal tensions, and monetary difficulties. Nothing too dramatic. Just time to move on, that's all. As to the future
Jordan will of course continue drumming. The man is a machine. I have no idea who he will play for, but that band will be lucky indeed. Gabe has written some great songs on piano and I hope to help him hone / record some of these. Will has been playing and recording as Sleep Good, and will continue doing so. He has started a band with Michael Bain. Preliminary results indicate great things to come. Matt has written a fantastic set of songs, his best yet, and will likely record and release them. Bill (me) will continue recording and releasing music under the {{{ SUNSET }}} moniker ( I have actually changed the name to Silent Sunset). I'm hoping to release an album that far surpasses anything I've previously released. Brighter colors, sharper contrasts, better lyrics. "Raising the bar," it's been called. That is my hope. Sam, part of the original "rock" lineup of ST, left the band in December to pursue his art and painting. His work is prodigious and impressive, and can be found here. Michael, who also left the band last December, has returned to school. Big Orange will change, no doubt, but the dream will remain alive as long as there's breath in my body. I will try to operate the studio more as a commercial venture, engineering bands and producing when asked. If anybody wants help with their music, my rates are quite competitive. Sound Team's Catalog will be available on our website, completely free, and in high quality digital format. Unreleased material will also be available, including live recordings, radio session, b-sides, and outtakes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Having founded the band with Matt, I feel emotional about all this. I invested years into the group, dreamt crazy dreams, laughed, toured, made great friends. I regret nothing. The band, in my mind, achieved great success and made fantastic music. I set out with this band to restore a sense of joy and exuberance to musical performance. At our best, we achieved that goal."
The silver lining, if there is one in this very sad breakup, is the availability of the band's music. Though the shit went down in September, the music is still there. If you've never gotten into the band, now's your time to give them a listen and appreciate just how good they were. I for one will be thankful for having been able to see them a couple times, and interview them ages ago. So go check them out, and raise a glass to the memory of Sound Team, gone to the great band afterlife much too prematurely.
It's not just us music nerds who sit down and spend some quality time with our laptops, you know. When they're not being prolific in the studio or spreading their gospel out on the road, some bands take to their computers. They write about the darndest things, anything from bands they love to recapping their latest gig to their bowel movements.
And so, we decided to show some support for our fellow bloggers and post links to their blogs. The list is on the small side at the moment, but it'll be updated whenever we find more band scribes. Please feel free to let us know of any wacky, interesting, kooky band blog we might have missed, and we'll add it right away. On our list you'll find relatively new blogs (Die!Die!Die!, for instance), and longer-running blogs (such as the infamous Deerhunter blog).
Eyes might be the window to the soul, but blogs can provide insights, too.
[photo by Megan Petty]
Hello, my name is Megan, and I’m a little bit in love with the Stevenson Ranch Davidians.
Their name is a play on those wacky Branch Davidians (remember David Koresh?), but there’s no fiery ending in sight for these Davidians. This is my kind of cult.
Perhaps it’s a cliché, but there’s just something about those bands from California. They sound, and yes I realize this is a point much-belabored, sunny. But what the Stevenson Ranch Davidians do that makes them so appealing is adding that sun-drenched sound not to overly poppy tunes, but to good ole psych-rock. And it’s a rather winning combination. Their influences are all over the place, from Dylan to the Warlocks and everything in between, and you can hear little bits and bobs of all of it. On the delightful “Let It All Go,” for example, there’s the sunshine and the 60s but also heavy doses of the bands of that good Mr. Jason Pierce, in both Spacemen 3 and Spiritualized incarnations. But like any good band they’ve hit on something special. Their songs could be played in the middle of the desert, on Carnaby Street with the Mods, or in your favorite bar tomorrow night. It’s the best of both worlds, the enveloping warmth of California balanced with something weighty, substantial.
The bottom line here, my friends, is that you really ought to do yourself a favor and listen to the Stevenson Ranch Davidians. Immediately.
And here I was worried that the art of sampling was dead. Girl Talk, aka DJ Gregg Gillis, is out with his latest CD, the thoroughly enjoyable Feed the Animals. What's more, you can pay what you please to get your grubby, little hands on your very own copy*. For those of you unfamiliar with his work, Gillis specializes in throwing damn near a gagillion different samples into each track, essentially creating a new song in the process. And he's got a little something for everyone here, from Boogie Down Productions and Public Enemy to Sinead O'Connor and Kenny Loggins. I can't confirm it, but I'm pretty sure I heard a kitchen sink in there at one point. For me, this is what makes Girl Talk such a fun band--trying to catch all the different samples on your own. Once you realize that's nearly impossible, you can do like I did and cheat here.
To snag your copy, hit up this site.
For different price levels, you get special "bonuses." Five bones will land you the entire CD in one continuous mp3, ten will get you a hard copy as well as digital. For the record (no pun intended), I dropped half a saw buck myself. Do the right thing and show Gillis a little love yourself.
* Editorial Note: Can people please stop referring to this as the "Radiohead model?" Numerous other artists were using this same tactic of "pay what you please" long before those English chaps. Hell, Juliana Hatfield was offering non-album tracks on her site years before those guys. Sorry, I'm not sure why this bothers me like it does, I just hate to see those cats get more credit than they deserve.
Evidently, the novelty of seeing the National play at the National was not lost on my fellow Richmonders. Sure, I haven’t actually seen all that many shows here since relocating last fall, but the National is a big place, and the it was heaving with people. I ventured up to the nosebleed section to avoid the creeping feelings of claustrophobia, and to enjoy a birds-eye view of a band I hadn’t quite realized I had missed so much. The cynical part of me wondered just how many of the assembled masses were here simply to see the double National, while the slightly less cynical part of me felt a little proud that my beloved quintet was now drawing such large crowds.
When last I saw them, the National was touring their absurdly good album Alligator, and the Black Cat was moderately full. The mood was somewhat somber; mouthpiece Matt Berninger was sick and unhappy, and though the show was phenomenal the aftertaste was not so sweet. But something was palpably different this night, from the moment the band walked onstage to the strains of Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat” to the last note of the second encore. Maybe it was the crowd’s unbridled affection given voice in rapturous cheers before and after every single song. Maybe it was the band, enjoying headlining a show after a month spent opening for R.E.M. (as Berninger said, “it’s so nice to play inside at night again.”). Maybe it was just the goofiness of playing a venue with the same name as your band. Whatever it was, the band, and for that matter the crowd, was better than I ever thought possible. And believe you me, that’s pretty fucking good.
For most of the set, the spacious stage was full, the original five being aided by a trio of boys with horns, keys, and a violin. It seemed imperative the plus three were there, as they helped give the songs a richness beyond even what the albums offer. It took about half of opening song “Start a War” for me to start thinking how much I love this band. In a way, they’re a classic American rock band; poignant lyrics and strong, powerful instrumentation. Matt Berninger is a story-teller, a scene-setter, capable of writing beautiful songs about the little details in addition to standard song fodder.
It was a love-fest from start to finish. The band was jubilant, and even the most mope-inducing songs were played with an air of celebration. Thank-you’s were said after nearly every song, and occasional spates of endearing banter peppered the set. Naturally, the band/venue name thing came up, and Berninger jokingly said how nice it was to have the venue named after them.
High points abounded, from the deafening clap-along to Bryan Devendorf’s pounding opening drums in “Squalor Victoria” to the introduction of “Abel” as “not religious” and Berninger’s intensity therein while shouting “my mind’s not right,” to the dedication of one of my absolute favorites, the hypnotic “Wasp Nest,” to Mama Dessner. The whole show was breathtaking. Many of the songs were given the extended instrumental treatment, featuring various solos and played long past their original stopping points. At the end of “Ada,” one of my favorites from latest album Boxer, someone yelled “amazing,” and the band collectively blushed. Adding to their nice-guy mystique, “Daughters of the Soho Riots” was dedicated to opening band Centro-Matic. “Mistaken for Strangers” was one of the strongest songs of the night, ferocious from start to finish. And to my amazement, the crowd sang along to “Fake Empire,” the final song of the set. It was the perfect way to close, but the crowd wasn’t going anywhere.
Happily, neither was the band. Mere moments later they were back, greeted by a roar from a still-jammed venue. Berninger opened by telling a story about the R.E.M. tour, and how they longed to play encores but weren’t able to. The crew cleared their stuff as soon as they went off stage. Of the trio of songs in the first encore, “All the Wine” was the most impressive to me. I’ve heard it live before, but they absolutely killed it this time. “Mr. November” was dedicated to “Barack,” and I began to think of the song in a whole new way, since I’d never before thought of it as being remotely political. The song itself was a raucous racket, just the way it ought to be.
You might have thought that would be it, another great song to close out their show. But no. The masses weren’t going anywhere, and so the band came back once more. They launched into the lovely, not oft-played “You’ve Done it Again, Virginia,” which I had never heard before. But the piece de resistance came next, their nineteenth and final song of the night. It’s in my top five National songs, and I didn’t expect to hear it. It caught my off guard. “About Today” was so beautiful, it almost made me cry.
I’ve gotta say, if it hadn’t been for that little thing in California I went to earlier, this would be my show of the year. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been to a show where the air was as electric, and the love between audience and band so obvious. Matt Berninger said it was going to “suck to go play other venues after this,” and I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to see a show there without remembering this one. As the theme from “Rocky” played, we all emptied out onto Broad Street, and I fell a little bit more in love with a band I thought I couldn’t possibly love any more.
Set List:
Start a War
Brainy
Secret Meeting
Baby, We’ll Be Fine
Slow Show
Squalor Victoria
Racing Like a Pro
Abel
Wasp Nest
Ada
Apartment Story
Daughters of the Soho Riots
Mistaken for Strangers
Fake Empire
---------------
Green Gloves
All the Wine
Mr. November
---------------
You’ve Done it Again, Virginia
About Today
[photo by Megan Petty – from 2006 Black Cat show]
My first live Islands experience took place in Brooklyn. It was a rainy spring afternoon, and the band and as many people as could fit into Fix were spending some up-close-and-personal quality time together. The band looked a little grumpy, but played splendidly. The second time, I was with a few hundred additional people, watching Islands don their whites and play at the Black Cat. That, too, was a pretty darned good show. But those shows were both years ago. How would my third Islands show be, what with the evidently abrupt departure of founding member J’Aime and all.
Silly, silly Megan. There was no need to fret. I had a great time, as did the rest of the sardine-can normally known as the Black Cat. The band made an interesting sartorial choice, everyone in black, black, and more black, apart from Nick’s white tank top under a black hoodie. It made sense: new album, new look, new color.
What wasn’t new was the band’s ability to fill the room with large helpings of outstanding oddballness, scintillating silliness, and quixotic quirkiness. The older songs get more cheers than did songs from new release Arm’s Way, but each song was played beautifully, and the crowd loved it all. I think I even caught some smiles coming from the stage, as well. Bathed in red light (which, sadly, didn't make for great photos), the band played and played, a shining example of intensity, radness, and discipline.
Highlights for me, if I had to pick, were the 80s-esque, supremely dance-worthy “Creeper,” instrumentally ambitious “The Arm,” “Pieces of You,” “Life in Jail” (resplendent with live chains!), and my likely favorite Islands song of all time, “I Feel Evil Creeping In.” Each song was bathed in the eccentricity Islands fans have come to know and love, and yet every song also sounded technically perfect. That’s the thing about Islands, the songs are demonstrations of controlled chaos. They might sound like little train wrecks, but rest assured that Nick Thorburn and co. know exactly what they’re doing. And I’m glad they do, because Islands is definitely one of the best live bands around these days.
[photo by Megan Petty]
Sometimes it's got to be a pain in the ass to be a musician these days, what with the World Wide Interwebs seemingly there at every turn making life harder for you. You bust your hump to make a new album and damned if somebody doesn't leak the thing to the world via those stalwarts like Limewire, etc. Such is the case for Brendan Canning, at least. The latest from the so far wonderful Broken Social Scene Presents... series, Canning found his Something For All Of Us out there on the web well ahead of its originally slated July 22 release date.
In his own words on the Arts & Crafts website:
"It has come to my attention that an unmastered version of my album has been leaked through the internet. With the retail release being six weeks away, I've decided to correct the situation by releasing the album digitally myself, because I can. So this is for all you early birds who just couldn't wait for July 22nd. But you know, it won't be like going to your favorite record shop and getting a copy in your hot little hands, or sitting in your basement downloading it to your iTouch phone while playing 'Grand Theft Auto'. It merely corrects the situation that is...a messed up version of my record floating around on the internet, and this is not how I wanted my record to drop. Believe me, this is not a minor situation. We're talking recall here folks... With all of this in mind, please note: Something for All of Us... will be available at all fine retail and digital outlets in North America July 22nd with some additional artwork inside and slightly later for the rest of the world.
Thank you all, please enjoy.
BC"
Now, on the one hand, he's got to be pissed that all that hard work has been pre-empted, moreso because it's apparently in lesser form. On the other side of the fence, though, I have to think he's at least partially flattered that his new CD is in such high demand that nefarious evil doers are out there to fix the jones of so many BSS fans worldwide.
Regardless, the new track, "Hit the Wall", is pretty damn money, with all sorts of indie goodness. While I don't doubt that BC has every reason to be pissed, this track is going to make me go out and buy the CD on July 22.
Dear All,
Perhaps you've noticed the sidebar we have about emailing us when you have a problem with a song being posted on this here site. We put that notice up to avoid getting into unpleasant situations. Up to now, evidently there had been no problems.
But someone affiliated with a band that shall remain nameless (though they have fallen mightily in our estimation and will probably never be mentioned here again) decided to go above our heads and complain elsewhere, instead of coming to us and asking/ordering a certain song to be removed.
Fine. Big record labels hate little music blogs, because god forbid a few people might get one song here and there.
However, from this side, it seems ridiculous. Certainly we can't speak for all music blogs, but we started this one because we both love music more than just about anything, and both love to learn about and share music that makes us happy. We'd probably put money on that being the impetus for most music blogs. All we ask, dear band/label folk, is that if you don't want us to have a song posted here, please ASK US TO TAKE IT DOWN. And we will. It's seriously that simple. There is no need for anything else to be done.
In a bid to combat any further issues, we're taking down most of the old mp3s on this site. And in future, any song we post will be available for one week only, so get 'em before they're gone.
And with that, we bid you good day for now.
Love and kisses,
Les Enfants Terribles
Autolux's Future Perfect is probably the best album of the decade that most people haven't heard. Sure, the band got some cherry opening gigs, most notably for Nine Inch Nails a few years back, but the gang never seemed to garner the public attention and adoration I feel they so richly deserve. The band pretty much had it all: a chick on drums, a guitarist from Failure and a vocalist with downright haunting capabilities. For all that, though, a follow-up never seemed to materialize. Quite frankly, I was afraid this gem of a band was going to ride into the sunset with nary a word outside of some local gigs.
Well, I'm delighted to report that the wait appears to be about over. Autolux has released the first single, "Audience", from the upcoming album to be released later this summer. The trademark sound remains intact: spooky guitars, kick ass, military precision drums and those otherwordly vocals. While it is not a departure from Future Perfect, this is by no means a bad thing. If anything, the track plays to the band's strengths and makes me that much hungrier for the next installment.
While the band is offering the new single for free download, the gang still does need to make a buck or two for the effort. As such, they have set up a site for donations. For the record, I paid a dollar and feel like I certainly got my money's worth. Do the right thing and do the same.
Australia’s Cut Copy is poised for Very Big Things. I say this not only after witnessing their sensational, jam-packed party of a set at Coachella, as well as two stellar, jam-packed parties of gigs in DC and Baltimore, but because their second album, In Ghost Colours, is insanely, freakishly, remarkably good. Almost frighteningly so.
To me, Cut Copy is very similar to mid-80s New Order, but instead of having the drizzly grey of Manchester (and the then-recent death of Ian Curtis) hanging over their sound and seeping somberly into the songs, Cut Copy have wide, sunny expanses of noise, full of love and hope. But the tight, taut electro stuff is very akin to one another, and at times the vocals tread the same territory as well. The sound is very mature and pulled together, despite Cut Copy’s fairly small back catalogue.
In Ghost Colours is the kind of album you can listen to for hours at a time, many days in a row. Trust me, I speak from experience. The fifteen songs fly by, even the shorter, purely instrumental tracks. Nothing feels like filler, and everything flows along nicely. It’s one hell of a party album, so you might want to prepare a dancefloor in your living room.
The loved-up “Feel the Love” starts things off, and the line “all the clouds have silver linings” is quite possibly an apt way to think of this album. Not the cloud part, of course. The knob-twiddling shimmers effortlessly along, and Dan Whitford’s 80s-esque vocals add to the overall good vibes. “Out There on the Ice” is all dance, all the time, bringing in some serious beats and the images of hordes of people flailing about to the music. One of my absolute favorites, “Unforgettable Season,” shines with Whitford’s empassioned vocals and building beats backed by Mitchell Scott’s deceptively simple drumming. And “Far Away,” the cream of the crop, is a delightful little love song that you can dance to.
All in all, Cut Copy came out of the gates at full speed, chomping at the bit, and with guns blazing. And their enthusiasm has been well worth it, since In Ghost Colours is a fine, foxy little album. If you’re into things like fun, dancing, fun, and oh yes, fun, you might want to check it out.
Crass lyrics. Big beats. Cheeky humor. What do these things have in common? Brighton's Jimmy the Fingers, that's what.
Mr. Fingers found me on Myspace recently, and I was instantly in smit. He's a one-man assault on the senses, mixing big, beaty samples with funny lyrics about cash machines and qualities he likes in the ladies. He does what he does very well, and definitely has a pervasive (and perverted) feeling of fun in his songs. Here's what Jimmy himself has to say about, well, himself:
"God damn it who is that guy? Jimmy what? Fingers? What's that all about, he likes fingering does he what kind of pervert is that guy? What? a collection of atoms? what the fuck are you talking about fella? he's just one guy... getting fatter and skinnier, happier and sadder by the day...he's not "a collection"... he's like a melon sort of shaped head, well ok then a hairy melon, with a moustache. you know? a must-ash?"
"Fk You" is probably my favorite of the songs he's got posted on Myspace, a downtempo ode to getting it on. And really, you've gotta admire a guy who just puts it out there, with "I just really wanna fuck you" being the refrain in this little party anthem. His cover of "Mrs. Robinson" is also a treat, and I love the way he flipped the script and slowed it down. It's a great interpretation.
Do I state the obvious, here? It's a party in Jimmy the Fingers' pants, and ladies, we're invited. Or maybe he looks at it more as there being a party the pants of others, and Jimmy wants in. Either way, give the gentleman a listen.
[Photo by Ali Tollervay]
I've said it before and I know I'll say it again: quite frankly, the Black Keys are the finest rock band touring today. For reasons I can't figure out, the White Stripes get far more love, but if you want a rocking good time that will blow your freaking doors off, look no further than the duo of Dan Auerbach (vox and guitar) and Patrick Carney (skins). These two will rock you harder in an hour than most bands can accomplish in a year.
I literally walked into the door of the 9:30 Club last night as the boys took the stage for what proved to be another scorcher, the first of a two night gig kicking off their East Coast tour. (And I've got tickets to night two, too. You can begin feeling jealous whenever you please). Playing in front of a vintage rock light show and an over sized, inflated rubber tire emblazoned with the band's name and Akron, Ohio, Auerbach quickly acknowledged the crowd and then launched into it.
The Keys played crowd favorites all night long, from their original album, The Big Come Up, (Busted) to their latest, Attack & Release (Strange Times). In between, the crowd was treated to such tracks as "10 A.M. Automatic", "Stack Shot Billy," "Set You Free" and "You're the One", pretty much hitting the high points of their entire catalogue. Personally, I would have loved to have heard "Grown So Ugly", but what can you do?
Now, for those of you that have never seen the Keys perform live before, Carney beats the drums like he walked in on them sleeping with his girlfriend. The man must go through a dozen drum sticks a night. He reminds me of a current day John Bonham, doing more with a small drum kit than most marching bands do with an entire percussion section. Auerbach looks more and more like Chris Robinson every time I see him, but he plays guitar like a blues master and has a voice that sounds roughly 40 years older than he is. Combined, the two create a scuzzy, garage-blues-rock sound that should be the envy of every kid interested in becoming a rock star. Again, screw the White Stripes, the Black Keys are where it's at.
The boys played for about an hour before taking a brief break and returning for a quick encore. While there was not a great deal of audience patter between songs, these guys let their instruments do the talking for them. And speak well they did.
As Auerbach pointed out about midway through the set, "We're going to play more songs tomorrow night, but we're going to play better this evening." I'll have to let you know how Night Two goes, but he wasn't messing around with his take on Night One's pyrotechnics.
For those of you that would like to hear for yourself the Black Keys' second night in DC, NPR has been kind enough to stream the show for your listening pleasure:
I'm the guy screaming. And one of the half naked fans he mentions. In case you were wondering.
[Photo by Todd M. Duym]
I don't have HBO, so for a long while I was immune to the charms of Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie, otherwise known as Flight of the Conchords. Thanks to the due diligence of my friend Laura, however, I was soon a Conchords devotee. I'm even writing this review while wearing my "Redheads not Warheads" tee, bought at the Lisner Auditorium show. But enough about me.
Not ones to shirk the responsibility brought on by fame and fortune, Jemaine and Bret had scheduled not one but two gigs at Lisner Auditorium, George Washington University's event space. The hall was stuffed to the gills, all of us waiting with baited breath to see New Zealand's current favorite sons get their comedy-parody-rock on. And comedy-parody-rock they did, for close to two hours.
The stage was simply set with two stools and an assortment of instruments. Arj Barker, himself on the Conchord's HBO series, opened the show, and got the masses good and warmed up with his jokes about Manassas, having kids (or not, as the case may be), and the perils of modern technology. And then, ladies and gentlemen, it was time for...Flight of the Conchords!
With Barker's introduction, the place erupted into hoots and hollers and shrieks, and the two unassuming Kiwis strolled to their seats with unassuming nonchalance. For the next two hours the duo had the place in stitches, pretty much non-stop. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard, and by the end of the night my face hurt from so much unabated grinning. Affable and eager to please, Clement and McKenzie powered through extended and adapted versions of songs from both the HBO series and the songs pulled therein from the series onto their first CD with Sub Pop. To my chagrin, the delightfully camp Serge Gainsbourg-esque "Foux de Fa Fa" didn't make the cut, but I was appeased with a stellar version of "Bowie," the duo's homage to the many different sounds and visions of David Bowie (and his pointy nipples). Clement's Bowie voice was even more freakishly dead on live, and the song made the crowd go nuts. The biggest ovation came for arguably the biggest hit of the Conchord's television/music career, "Business Time." The bedroom ode to "sweet weekly love" was as saucy and hilarious as can be. At one point the pair abandoned their perches to sit at the lip of the stage, a move that caused a great deal of squealing from the ladies in the audience. There was a good deal of both audience "participation" and crowd banter, which added to the overall joviality of the evening.
Clement and McKenzie could do no wrong on this night, and the laughs kept coming. They showed DC just why HBO gave them their own show, and why Sub Pop inked them to a deal. They are intensely funny, but more than that they are ridiculously likable. The success of the Conchords has as much to do with their material as it does their personalities, and if the show at Lisner was any indication, this pair of (pretty foxy) Kiwis has a long, glorious career in front of them.
Oh Subpop, I do love you so...
If you're like me, you were unaware that today, May 20th, is officially Mudhoney Day. To celebrate, Subpop is throwing a little party in Seattle. Which, naturally, kinda sucks for everyone not in Seattle, but don't fret, non-Seattleite Mudhoney fans. Subpop has thought of everything. From the email that just popped into my inbox:
"And, in celebration of MUDHONEY DAY, we are hereby inviting you to come out to Easy Street Records in Seattle's Lower Queen Anne neighborhood for a FREE IN-STORE PERFORMANCE TONIGHT AT 7PM! Even better: this free in-store performance at 7pm will be performed by the actual Mudhoney! What's more, if you are unable to attend this evening's FREE Mudhoney in-store performance because you live in some other city, or have plans or family members you cannot neglect, or have been committed of and incarcerated for a crime you did/did not commit, or have discovered far too late that those pot cookies are way, WAY stronger than you anticipated, you can watch this FREE Mudhoney in-store performance on your computer! The fine people at Easy Street have set up a live webcast of this evening's FREE Mudhoney in-store performance which you can access at 7pm PST right here."
We here at Les Enfants Terribles would like to wish a very happy Mudhoney Day to one and all!
Oh, and the good folks at Subpop have several Mudhoney downloads available at the Mudhoney site, so get over there and get clicking.
[Photo by Steve Dewall]
It’s a beautiful day in my neighborhood, friends, and should be so in yours, too. Why, you might ask? Well, it is a happy day indeed, for there is a new Islands album to relish and rejoice in! And I tell you what, it’s pretty darned good.
You might recall that Islands rose, phoenix-like, from the ashes of the sublimely weird, wonderfully oddball, yet sadly short-lived Unicorns. Happily, that pervading sense of sonic strangeness has been kept alive, and once more rears its many heads on Arm’s Way. It’s a cacophony of noise, a mash-up of melody, a yummy swirl of freaky off-kilterness, though deep down at the roots it's only rock’n’roll. If you’re down with musical schizophrenia, then this could just be something you’ll like quite a bit.
It’s a great listen from its head down to its toes, every song enchanting and endearing in its own special way. I must confess, I dig it even more than its predecessor, Return to the Sea. As quirky as it is, it feels like less of a ramble and more pulled-together. It’s a study in controlled chaos, randomness with restraint. Great lines abound, as you might expect, including “if you wanna be a shark/you better learn to stay awake,” from “Life in Jail.”
There are several standout tracks for me; the bouncy “Pieces of You,” Sasquatch ode “Abominable Snow,” the very possibly addictive “Creeper,” and the absolutely wonderful “I Feel Evil Creeping In,” a devilishly good song I had heard live years ago and am thrilled to see on the new album.
I’ve read a couple not-so-hot reviews of Arms Way, and I don’t get it. Sure, it sounds a little darker than their debut, but it’s a fine album all the way through. So pay no heed to those other reviews, I highly recommend you give Islands a shot.
Oh, Canada, I like you for many reasons, and today I thank you for Islands.
And for those in the DC area, go and listen to the good word of Islands at the Black Cat this Thursday. See you there!
Dear friends,
As you may or may not know, on June 15th I shall be one year closer to 30. To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have one thing I would like for my birthday: a date with Scottish dance-disco sensation, Calvin Harris.
Sure, he lives in Scotland and I live in Richmond. Sure, he's an international rising star in the comedy-dance-disco-whatever circuit, and I am but a humble music blogger. Sure, he probably doesn't have love for me because I wasn't born in the 80s.
What are birthdays for, if not to have outrageous (and humorous) delusions of present grandeur?
But foorsoth, readers, in the spirit of shameless self-promotion we are fond of here at Les Enfants Terribles, my birthday is coming up. It's never to early to start shopping.
I have to admit, in a way I take it for granted that a British Sea Power show will be ridiculously good. Having already seen the thinking person's indie band several times before, I wasn't concerned in the least about being entertained. After all, even if the music wasn't delightfully thought-provoking and charmingly quirky, how could you not love a band who brings foliage and stuffed owls on tour with them? True, neither foliage nor taxidermy was featured on this tour, but nevertheless, the show was as solid as I expected, and perhaps even better than I had hoped.
There was a bittersweet feel to the show, as the tragic and outrageous closure of the Satellite Ballroom in favor of yet another CVS at the end of May hung heavily in the air. But once British Sea Power took to the stage, all was well, if only for a little while.
BSP took to the stage to the strains of the opening track from their most recent album, Do You Like Rock Music?, "All In It." The band opted for a more modern sartorial look than I had seen them in before, mixing their traditional turn-of-the-century peasant garb with contemporary pieces like a defaced Spongebob Squarepants tee (as seen on Yan), and a nurses' top (as modeled by Hamilton). As the tour was in promotion of the latest record, the setlist pulled heavily from there, but included some older treats such as the early, non-album track "The Spirit of St. Louis."
Not only is this a truly smart band, they're also rather good at the whole playing music thing. Song after song the band showed their adeptness at their respective instruments, with Yan and Hamilton switching off on bass anf guitar with great dexterity, and many a song being extended with mini-jam sessions and much rocking out. And, as is the mark of a great band, British Sea Power sound even better live than on record. I found it hard to believe it had been over two years since my last BSP show, yet they took up where we left off, which is being one of the most special live acts around today.
They sing of sea birds, social issues, and obscure historical events otherwise long-forgotten. They are a band of a different horse, a band from another planet, and a band like no other. I love them for being such smartypantses, and for rocking out with their brains out. British Sea Power is a treasure, but don't take my word for it. Go see them for yourself, and let me know how much you loved it.
I first heard the new Black Angels album, Directions to See a Ghost, about a week before I left for Coachella. Since then, it’s pretty much been the only thing I’ve been listening to. I’ve woken up with the Black Angels, gone to work with the Black Angels, fallen asleep with the Black Angels, and flown to California with them. And guess what? I’m listening to them at this very moment, too. If you’re not already as in love with them as I am, prepare yourself, because you soon will be.
The Austinian band made quite an impression with their debut Passover, a swirling, pulsating mess of 60s psych-rock drenched in drone and resonating with reverb and political themes. It was almost too good to be true, and my thoughts wandered immediately to how they could possibly follow up such a good LP. My fears were put to rest as soon as I heard the first few notes of opening track “You on the Run.” The sound and the fury of their nouveau psychedelia is very much present and accounted for. Second song “Doves” is rapidly becoming one of my favorite Black Angels songs, with waves of guitar effects and a powerfully hypnotic beat. Singer Alex Maas shines on this (and well, every other) song, his brassy, slightly off-kilter howl adding to the unmistakable sound of the Black Angels.
It took me a few listens to make it past the fifth track, “18 Years,” because I was seduced by that damned fine bassline. This is sex in song form, and it’s completely and utterly intoxicating. It’s astonishingly good, and for days I listened to it repeatedly. “Deer-Ree-Shee” is next, heavy with sitar and laden with complexity. The band gets all political again, especially on songs like “Vikings,” one of the most haunting tracks on the album. Maas’ flat delivery is backed by mesmerizing, throbbing drumming, and spouts forth lyrics about German warships and bombing you “til tomorrow.”
I cannot possibly endorse Directions to See a Ghost enough. It’s one of those rare albums where nothing anyone can say about it could even begin to do it justice. You just have to bite the bullet, buy it, and experience it for yourself. It is, thus far, my album of the year. It’s a full-scale assault on the senses. In the aftermath, you won’t know which way is up, what year it is, and quite possibly what your name is. And let me tell you, you’re gonna love every single second of it.
Somebody should probably tell Trent Reznor that it's OK for him to take a break every now and again. Right on the heels of his multi-disc Ghosts opus, he's decided to give another freebie to the fans with The Slip. Oh yeah, and he's about to start a summer tour in the near future. He'll be hitting the Virgin Fest for those of us in the DC metro area on August 10. It wouldn't surprise me if the guy also is working on a perpetual motion device, world peace, and a better way to cross-breed ducks, chickens and turkeys for the perfect Turducken experience for the holidays. We've voiced our love for both Trent's music and the direction he's headed with distribution and fan interaction here at LET. I do not, however, want the guy to have a heart attack from overworking himself, so I'm just suggesting you might want to take a breather when you get the chance, big guy.
The Slip can fairly easily be broken into two distinct portions. Fortunately for our purposes, that would be the opening half and the closing half of the CD. Opening with the spacey instrumental "999,999", the album then throttles into ass kicking overdrive for the next four tracks. For those of you that weren't in love with the completely instrumental Ghosts, you won't have that problem here. Reznor is just as frantic and powerful as ever on tracks like "1,000,000" and "Letting You". "Discipline" and "Echoplex" follow, which begin to slow the pace, but continue with the same spastic urgency that Reznor does so well, before he kicks things back up a notch with "Head Down". From there, however, things make an abrupt about-face. "Lights in the Sky" is a piano dirge, plain and simple, with Reznor's vocals barely audible in the background. "Corona Radiata" clocks in at over seven and a half minutes of essentially low key keyboard noises. This one was for fans of Ghosts, I guess, as the vocals are absent here. "The Four of Us Are Dying" maintains the chill pacing and then Reznor ups the ante on the earlier frenetic note of "Demon Seed".
The Slip does not have the overall cohesive feel of Year Zero, but that's not to say it's bad by any stretch of the imagination. I liken it more to With Teeth; a bunch of great tracks, even if they seem slightly disjointed in their grouping.
I'm really digging the James Brown-sian pace NIN is maintaining since abandoning the big label in favor for putting things out at their own pace. I just don't want that pace to result in a high speed chase with the cops, wife beating or an appearance in Rocky 47 (coming soon to a theater near you, I'm sure). I'm just saying.
To get your free copy of The Slip, check out the NIN site. If you're too damn lazy for that, here's a little sumthin' sumthin' to feed your fix.
Holy Fuck: not only a band with a delightful name to say, but a band with a fiery electrotrainwreck of a sound that’ll get your body rockin’ and blood flowing in no time flat. I can say that with authority, you know, having had the pleasure of seeing them live a few times. Seriously, just try to listen to their LP and not dance. Impossible. As luck would have it, the devilishly smooth Canadian noise-art-rock collective happened to be at Coachella, taking the stage after some actor dude named Sean Penn. I’m sure they were entirely more danceable. Read on to see what Mister Graham Walsh had to say about his expectations for Coachella 2008.
Les Enfants Terribles: How are you getting to Coachella: plane, train, or automobile?
Graham Walsh: We're flying there. Our European tour ends a couple days before Coachella, so we have to fly. Otherwise, we might have driven.
LET: Inevitably, you will forget to pack:
GW: My bathing suit...actually, I might remember it now because you asked me that question. Usually, I'm always forgetting my bathing suit.
LET: Band you're most looking forward to seeing at the festival?
GW: Dwight Yoakam or Kraftwerk. Seriously, I'm not being sarcastic. I hear Dwight is amazing live!
LET: To camp or not to camp?
GW: It's always fun to camp at a music festival... unless it rains. I think this time we'll get a hotel room, though!
LET: What was the first festival you ever attended, either as a musician or member of the general public?
GW: The first music festival I attended was Lollapalooza 1993 in Barrie, Ontario. We missed all the headlining acts because I was there with my friend who's mom made us come home for supper!
LET: The California desert in late April: friend or foe?
GW: We live in Toronto, Canada. I think that most types of weather associated with the state of California would have to be my friend.
LET: Favorite thing about festivals?
GW: Seeing bands you normally wouldn't see.
Sometimes I feel like I'm always the last to know when bands I like dissolve their holy unions. The latest in this litany of band disbandings is Austin's most excellent, and sadly under-appreciated space cadets Sound Team. Evidently, while I was getting acclimated to living here in Richmond, the members of Sound Team were calling it a day. Here's the story, from the mouth (or blog) of one of the founding members, Bill Baird:
