Seen and Heard in New York: a Weekly Round-Up

While I may not be terribly productive outside my working hours, I do frequently use this time to enjoy the greatest hub of art, culture, and entertainment (and cuisine, finance, innovation, design, etc.) that is New York. (However, you will rarely see a silent movie with organ accompaniment there—Jersey City has dibs on that.) In the past week or so, I have been incredibly lucky to have watched a college basketball game, listened to a concert, and see two (or four, rather) plays. Frankly, I’m as astonished as you, dear reader, that I could fit this all within my week (and budget). But the cost of living here includes access to such opportunities. And if you don’t take advantage of this proximity, then you might as well live somewhere else--you know, somewhere cheaper and less exciting, like Philly.

Half girls, half guys, and all rock

My new favorite band, Beast Make Bomb balances clever art-school songcraft with punk moxie. Three years on from their inception at NYU, they are navigating a rising course through the New York music scene. With cool confidence, they have great potential and no shortage of energy to play shows large and small. I caught two of the latter just last week and remain infatuated with a band that deserves more fans and praise than little ol' me can provide.

It's hard to express, but on that night at Bar Matchless, they were just the perfect band to see--the right band for me, that is. Maybe I'm projecting on them what I want from my ideal band, but you can't deny the facts: the guitarist's slick riffs, lead singer's swagger, bassist's scruffiness, and drummer's intensity.

And although I don't know the members of BMB, they are as essential to my appreciation of the band as its music. Once again, I hope to draw inspiration from talented people doing what they love (because it certainly can't be for the money). Striving to be creative and productive with all their available time and talent, while remaining true themselves, has brought them this far and surely further. But who knows ... they may break up next week, their synergy spent; and I may very well get another new favorite band, and no longer show up like Mel from Flight of the Conchords at every concert.  Yet, since they're good and didn't seem like they were, you know, half-assing it up there, I doubt any of that will happen soon.

Since I lack a certain distance and critical eye/ear, I realize this post may not be the most objective or insightful review. Nonetheless, BMB in concert is the best art (and fun) I have recently experienced, and I couldn't not share it.

Getting back to it ...

In the year 2012, I have been to Iceland just as many times as I have posted here. Forgive me for the humblebrag, but I really don’t know how else to begin my return to this blog … you know, the one supposedly dedicated to getting me to write more about anything and everything.

The hiatus is partially due to my lack of progress with my Rite of Spring project. For whatever reason, I didn’t want to post again about my story (see below) until I had a complete rough draft to share. And despite my research and writing in January, February, and March … I haven’t finished that—hence the lack of posts. (However, I should have posted about seeing maestro Alan Gilbert leading the Julliard Orchestra in a kick-ass version of the Rite. Hm … maybe I’ll get around to doing that after all.)

In the meantime, however, I have done a variety of things that a less-discriminating person would call “bloggable.” And seeing as I seldom write creatively, or have any wry observations or impassioned views to express in essay form, I must again deign to recounting and reflecting on the life I am extraordinarily lucky to have here in the greatest city in the country world. (And by that I, of course, mean Jersey City.)

Rock, Chick Rock

For some reason, my music-listening experience has recently been inundated by female artists. This is partly by choice: in what I listen to, and through my expanding awareness of the music I'm missing out on. But this trend also depends on the forums I explore and what I am exposed to there. But even then, NPR doesn't force me to listen to anything ... But enough analysis! Here are some tunes/artists to liven up your day/life, ranging from folk to rock and back again:

Florence + the Machine performs prettily in studio

Wye Oak on some balcony playing "Civilian" (and I thought the album version was good)

And then there's the amazing Lisa Hannigan's "Tiny Desk Concert": http://www.npr.org/2011/10/25/141684634/lisa-hannigan-tiny-desk-concert

Or, even Laura Marling playing "Muse" in concert

Once again, Dum Dum Girls (been listening to their album all week):

And a teaser from one of my favorites, Sharon Van Etten, who'll be on tour next year supporting her new album: http://www.thealternateside.org/111129/sharon-van-etten-tramps-view-serpents-download-album-art

So I guess music in 2011 wasn't all that bad, but still ... bring on 2012!

Free Concerts Galore!

Summer in New York, for me at least, is synonymous with eating delicious meals outside (sometimes in a park, sometimes on a sidewalk, but often on a rooftop), going to outdoor concerts, and (when possible) doing both. Usually, the city as a whole can achieve this ultimate aim by attending the New York Philharmonic’s “Concerts in the Parks” series, which brings this illustrious orchestra to each borough (even Staten Island) for a night of classical music—and sometimes fireworks! But this year, due to reasons unexplained (even to me—and I work for it!), the Philharmonic did not conduct this city-wide tour. However, an annual tradition on hiatus (just this one time, we promise), allows us the opportunity to discover other sources of entertainment. Festivals and arts series abound in this city, wherever there is space enough and an organization willing to present the artists. Already I’ve traveled to Red Hook Park for a concert—just one in the massive Summer Stage series put on by the City Parks Foundation, which embraces the entire city by staging concerts of various genres in nearly every sizable park. If you can’t find something to fill your Phil-hole, then you’re not even trying. Theater in the park, migrating street fests, food festivals, beer gardens, outdoor swing dancing, roof-top films … it’s a hectic three months trying to keep up, really.  I, for one, try to go to as many free, outdoor concerts as I can. And thus far, without buying a single ticket, I have enjoyed three summer nights of live music from some of my favorite artists: Andrew Bird, The Decemberists, and Animal Collective.

Catching Up on My June Adventures, Part 2: an Evening in Red Hook

late 19th Century Red Hook

 On a hazy night threatening rain, I trekked to the Red Hook neighborhood of Brooklyn for the first time. With its proximity to the New York harbor, Red Hook is (was?) perhaps best-known as a hub of shipping for the city. Though its recently become home to an Ikea store (accessible by ferry), the Sixpoint Brewery, and numerous boutiques and gourmet shops, this corner of Brooklyn is still solidly middle-class and ethnically diverse. The gentrification creeping toward it from the north has been held at bay so far (although Ikea’s amphibious landing was an audacious flanking maneuver, if I do say so myself. But let’s hope it’s more of an Anzio, and less of an Inchon.) However, hipsters do infiltrate and exploit the neighborhood’s secret treasure: a flotilla of food trucks that serve impeccable Latin food at the neighborhood ball fields. On weekends, apparently. Partly, I took this trip to see the band We Are Scientists (the source of the pin on my messenger bag that mysteriously reads “W. A. S.”) play an outdoor concert; but the majority of my motivation came from seeking out and eating the best papusa (or three) in the city. I’ve seen WAS twice before, but I’ve never had a papusa. So you can understand my priorities in this matter, and my disappointment upon discovering that the field adjacent to the stage—where I expected the circle of food trucks—was empty. 

 I found a sign advertising the return of the vendors for the summer, but no sign of the trucks themselves.

            With time and hunger to kill, I moved on to my back-up plan. Yes, I was sure of my destination, but not so sure how to get there. However, I possess a certain knack for finding places in this city when I only have a vague idea of their location. So after walking away from the park, I came upon Van Brunt Street and found on its corner the cafe/bar Fort Defiance. Named after a fortress built during the Continental Army’s ill-fated defense of New York City in 1776, Fort Defiance has a reputation as purveyor of unique cocktails, good beer (like Sixpoint from down the street—talk about local!), and noticeably above-average pub grub. I had expected to just pick up a delicious muffuletta (a sandwich just about as native to New York as a papusa), down a pint, and be on my way. However, the dinner menu had only, well … dinner options. I reluctantly turned down the heavy lamb dish and beer, and instead selected something more of the season: grilled mackerel, with a cocktail of Darjeeling-infused honey vodka, lemon, and prosecco. The mackerel, onions, and grainy mustard were very good (the accompanying freekah and fava beans, not so much), while the cocktail was light and refreshing. Hard to believe I had that kind of a meal while sitting at a dark wooden bar that wouldn’t seem out of place in an English pub, or in a neighborhood that twenty years ago was one of the country’s most crime- and drug-ridden. But rather than linger with another drink and a good book, I was out the door and on my way back to the park (a trip that was considerably easier than before—funny how that works.)
            The opening band was in mid-set when I returned to the stage, so I took the opportunity to check out the nearby waterway. And this is what I found: 

Desolate yet alluring, right? Or maybe not. But soon enough the guys from Brooklyn making noise on stage departed, making way for an altogether better “Brooklyn band.”
            We Are Scientists provided what I’d expected: rockin’ dance-punk, with the tight play and wit of a seasoned band. (Their longevity, showmanship, and instrumental skills were frequent sources of comic relief.) But unexpectedly, I soon felt myself drift back to my first concert in New York, on a cold late November night. Before moving to the area, I had only been collection of music I do now; actually, I even have difficulty just fathoming the vast difference between the role of music in my life then and now. In high school and college, I never considered myself enough of a fan of any band to be willing to buy a ticket to see them in person. I just didn’t get it, and I didn’t care. But oh, how I would come to appreciate the experience of live music. And because of that WAS concert at Irving Place mere months after I’d started life in the a new city (as well as a Josh Ritter concert I saw that previous winter at DC’s famed 9:30 Club—a concert I still listen to via NPR!), I haven’t gone a month without going to at least one concert. I still recall how, on that frosty night, I just sat in my empty bedroom and listened to their albums on repeat while slurping Cup o’ Noodles.

But in the open air of Red Hook Park, I just nodded along to the familiar riffs. And though nostalgic for that previous concert, I held no fondness for the crowd surfers landing on my head or the stoned soccer moms standing behind me. No, this concert was just fun, plain and simple. Although this was the third time I’d seen them, only now did I appreciate their talented ability to reproduce live renderings of studio effects. But I’d always enjoyed their witty between-song banter—which I assumed, ever since that first concert, every band possessed; this presumption has not held true, much to my dismay. Rare is the good band that can take their music seriously after all these years, and themselves not so much. Though the neighborhood* was new, the music on this night was refreshingly familiar.  

                

*I still need to go back to Red Hook for papusas, a visit to the Sixpoint brewery, and a refreshing drink from Sunny’s bar. Any takers?

New Jersey Rocks! (a.k.a. “You Will Always Be a Loser!!” or Titus Andronicus Forever!!!)

It seems the old adage holds true: You can take the band out of Jersey, but you can’t take the Jersey out of the band. And thank god for that. Patrick, Amy and the rest of Titus Andronicus may now reside in Brooklyn (the epicenter of the New York music scene, I begrudgingly admit), but they assert their NJ roots (it is the Garden State, after all.) And they do it not only by playing kick-ass rock shows anytime they return to the area, but they even pay homage to New Jersey in their latest video (more on this later.)

For Tim and I, the evening began typically: a pile of Chinese food, PATH trip to Hoboken, and then a lovely evening stroll along tree- and brownstone-lined streets to the Mecca of local music venues—Maxwell’s.  And then, although we eschewed imbibing, we did stand around like a bunch of losers judging the swelling crowd. When I go to shows, I pray that there aren’t too many hipsters—but with the bands I see that’s usually unavoidable. But actually, I’ll take hipsters over douches any day (and always over stoned soccer moms.) There were more of them in the crowd than I’d expected, but I chalk it up to just being a well-apportioned representation of north Jersey. Well, except for all the black, Hispanic, and south Asian people. But moving on …

Dinowalrus opened, and they turned out to be a pretty good band blending drums with a drum machine, psychedelic guitar riffs, and delayed/distorted vocals. I didn’t take to the vocals at first, but nothing else would have worked with the rest of their sound--which actually rocked. Forgive my sense of surprise; I generally don’t anticipate great opening bands—but Dinowalrus just happens to be the best Tim and I have seen (personally, I saw Screaming Females open for Arctic Monkeys, but since I’ve seen them multiple times as a headliner they're disqualified.)   

Speaking of Screaming Females, we saw them at Maxwell’s at the end of March (partly because Tim had never seen them live, and partly because I couldn’t stand waiting another month for a concert). Although they are tight performers with sick style of rock, I was somewhat disappointed with that evening’s show: only an hour-long set—with an animated video accompaniment for each song. An artsy concept that seems good in concept, but perhaps not in execution—just a little too short and structured for my liking.

This is precisely what I had in mind when I saw a projection screen erected on stage after Dinowalrus. But what came next assuaged all dread of a multimedia show, and indeed, it verily warmed my heart. On that screen, Titus Andronicus premiered their new video—simultaneously broadcast in various venues (physical and online) throughout the state (then, I guess, the rest of the world … as if that mattered.) As far as concept and execution, I think the video speaks for itself:

 I love that the tour starts in the Pine Barrens and finishes in Jersey City. (I only regret that I was not among the audience on that JC rooftop … sigh.)

But I was in the audience at Maxwell’s last night; whereupon, I saw a wholly different band than Tim and I had nearly two years ago—quite literally (the number of former members of the band dwarfs the current line-up.) We’d never even heard a note of their music before going—I just wanted to see a show at Maxwell’s, and I’d read that they were hard-rocking punks of a sort. And basically all I remember of the concert is that it was incredibly loud, and the vocals unintelligible. Oh, and that one of the guitar players wore his guitar awkwardly high.

This time around though, I’ve been jonesing to see Titus Andronicus since last July when I first listened to their second album, The Monitor (okay, maybe since the fourth or fifth listen.) A concept album of interconnected melodic rock songs based in part on the Civil War—how could I not like it? Maybe not every song, but I do love the seven-minute opener and the fourteen-minute closer. And when they’re played back-to-back (or rather, closer into opener) at the climax of the show for a perfect 20-minute block of song? That was pretty freaking cool. As was the taste of electric violin provided by the joyously-bouncing Amy Klein, the harmonica solo by the drummer’s dad, a bit of moshing, and much singing-along to Patrick Stickles rock-ballad choruses. And though I didn’t pick up a copy of their album on vinyl or a tote bag (really?), I did leave deaf, hoarse, and humming every chorus and riff. Good times.

One of my favorite singers

Josh Ritter at NPR for a Tiny Desk Concert. Enjoy!

(I know, I haven't posted in over a month ... this blog sucks. But maybe, just maybe, I can get some stuff written this weekend to put up here ... "cruelest month" be damned!)

My New Favorite Band I Just Heard Of (Again?!)

Okay, yes, I may have said this before (The National, Screaming Females, Titus Andronicus, Smith Westerns Animal Collective, Mumford and Sons, Local Natives, Buke & Gass, etc.) Of course, I haven't forgotten any of them--I listen to my recent favorites frequently, and keep a sharp eye on their tour itineraries. But, when I discover a new artist, I just feel I have to mention them--and give my readers an opportunity to have a listen. And this weekend, it's a folksy quartet out of Rhode Island: The Low Anthem.

While at work the other day, as I was just about to put on an NPR First Listen album, I read the blurb for another: "Hear the Rhode Island band's melancholy new album of blues, folk and country music in its entirety." Holy shit. If there's something that's totally up my alley right now, it would be that exact combination. (Actually, looking at the development of my musical taste over the past few years, I'd say my "alley" is more of an interstate in breadth.) Plus, the band recorded the majority of the album in an abandoned pasta-sauce factory (how cool is that!); a fact that most critics have cited as a redeeming factor for the album, which would otherwise be spare and simple without the eerie and somber effects of the vast recording space's reverberations.

{Side note: considering that all the mega-indie bands are into unique recording spaces--Arcade Fire did Neon Bible in a church, and The Decemberists' recorded The King is Dead in a barn--where will this trend go next? Which band will take it too far, and push it into the realm of the tacky? And what is the most extreme space for recording? (The answer to that question is outer space, obviously. And if you don't think there's sound out there, just listen to the Voyager recordings and you'll find out how wrong you are.)}

You may have seen The Low Anthem on Letterman the other night, but for those who did not, you can listen to their new album, Smart Flesh on NPR Music website.

For those of you with more time, you can also listen to the live recording of their concert in a DC synagogue from just last week.

And for those of you without time for either, you should watch this video for both the song and to see their "studio":

And if you like any of that, then you should get out there and support the band if they play at your local venue--I know I will.



PS. So, actually, my new favorite band might just be the New York Philharmonic. I've heard them deliver some amazing performances over the last few years, and listening to their rendition of Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 last Saturday pretty much locked it up. And ... Fun fact! The Philharmonic played that piece at their first concert, way back in 1842. (Hold on to that one for the trivia night at your local bar. Just remember to thank me when you're drinking your winning's from an old trophy bought at Goodwill.)  

What I've been listening to ...

Essentially, I've spent the last month or so of the new year catching up on everything I missed from 2010--whether it be an album I've been meaning to get since the summer (High Violet by The National), or some band I'd only recently heard about while skimming end-of-the-year lists (Buke & Gass ... who I finally saw in concert in January--for free!).  Also, there's been a bit of catching up with old favorites (Modest Mouse's Good News For People Who Love Bad News, for example), or obsessing over others (Animal Collective's Merriwether Post Pavilion, an obsession you'd understand if you've ever listened to it--as you should.) However, it is my intention here to give you a taste of the latest music. So, here are some recommended albums, with a featured song; and if you enjoy that, I encourage you to seek out the entire album.


High Violet, The National

“Bloodbuzz Ohio”

Riposte, Buke & Gass
            “Medulla Oblangata”

The Lady Killer, Cee-Lo (whom I saw sing “Crazy” with Prince the other night. Yeah, that Prince.)
            “No One’s Gonna Love You” (a Band of Horses cover)

This Is Happening, LCD Soundsystem
            “Dance Yrself Clean”

The ArchAndroid, Janelle Monae
            “Tightrope” (featuring Big Boi)

So Runs the World Away, Josh Ritter (I’ve been meaning to this album get since the concert in May)
            “The Curse”

Gorilla Manor, Local Natives (my new favorite band)
            “Shape Shifter”

 History From Below, Delta Spirit
            “Bushwick Blues”

Personal Life, The Thermals (who I saw at dinner at The Breslin!)
            “Never Listen to Me”

Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, My Chemical Romance
            “Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)”

The King Is Dead, The Decemberists
            “Down by the Water”

Because I Was in Love, Sharon Van Etten
            “For You”

 Dye It Blonde, Smith Westerns
            “Weekend”

Everything Under the Sun, Jukebox the Ghost
            “Empire”

Harlem River Blues, Justin Townes Earle
            “Workin’ for the MTA”

Mines, Menomena
            “TAOS”

Congratulations, MGMT
            “Flash Delirium”

All Day, Girl Talk
            “Oh No” (with this perfectly complimentary visual mash-up)

 Halcyon Digest, Deerhunter
            “Helicopter”

 

Wow … I’ve had quite an earful since Christmas, although this really is mostly 2010 music. But with the new Decemberists and Smith Westerns albums—and more to come from Rise Against and TV on the Radio—I’m  looking forward to the new year’s new music.

Also, ‘cause it’s good:
“My Girls,” Merriwether Post Pavilion, Animal Collective

Sharon Van Etten! (again?)

Yes, again.  Of course, again.

See?

Okay, I will admit that I am something of an SVE groupie (by the mere fact I call her SVE, and have seen her in concert 3 times in the last 4 months, and own her latest album, Epic, on CD and vinyl—as well as her first LP, Because I was in Love.)  

But, you see, I just had to go this time, for reasons outside my own fandom.  First, it was at the Bowery Ballroom—both the largest venue she’d headlined in this city, and something of a homecoming concert (her parents and extended family—from Jersey!—were there, after all.)  And secondly, my roommate/uncle Tim had never seen her in concert.  There you go.  And so, of course we found ourselves sharing beers at the basement bar way too early—because that’s exactly what you’re supposed to be doing on a Saturday night in the city.  But enough of this needless justification, on to the concert.
 
The night began with an act plagued by technical difficulties and too-beautiful guitar playing for a male singer/songwriter-type artist.  His name will be withheld lest he search for reviews of himself, find this post, and be bitterly stung by this all-too-accurate description of that evening’s performance, and his style in general.  (I know I would.)  But since SVE had invited him, she joined him onstage for a song to salvage his set  (undermined most-cruelly when his guitar amp failed mid-song—just as he finally got rocking!) 

Then, came The War on Drugs, a favorite of SVE’s who joined the bill at her behest (I like to think she wields that kind of power, but who really knows.)  They brought more rock than the first band, but, as Tim would point out, they channeled fading classic rockers, with little originality.  Well, they didn’t sound too bad, and had some pretty good energy overall (as well a drummer whom the entire audience thought was a roadie.)  But as eleven o’clock approached, they thankfully yielded the stage for the artist we’d all come to see (hear?)

Though apparently nervous, Sharon Van Etten began by belting out “A Crime,” her usual opening song—one that immediately brings her and the audience into the moment.  Her arrangements are simple but solid as her voice—a beautiful instrument on its own.  And to provided fullness and rhythm to them, she sang the rest of the set supported by her regular vocal, bass guitar, and percussion accompanists, as well as a pianist for the first time.  And of course, all this music serves very well to compliment her honest, bittersweet lyrics.  With guest appearances from friends in the indie music scene, shout-outs to her parents (and her boisterous cousin in the front row), multiple encores, much nervous banter, and a general sense of appreciation/reflection from an earnest singer who’s come a long way from open-mic nights in Tennessee dive bars—it was a memorable concert, and evening overall. 

Here’s a sample and more coverage, but it really is best to see her perform live, if possible:

OMG!

Omigodomigodomigodomigodomigodomigodomigod …. I saw Prince in concert nearly a month ago and I haven’t written a damn thing about it.  That’s right, Prince—aka. the Kid, the Purple One, the Artist Formerly Known as Prince, or just:

On a cold December night out at East Rutherford’s Izod Center, my roommates and I witnessed the first concert of Prince’s “Welcome 2 America” tour (whom he was welcoming was never made clear.) Perhaps the strangest aspect of the evening (normally just Prince himself), was the fact that before the concert and in between the opening acts, the film Finding Nemo played on the multiple enormous projection screens in the center of the arena—without sound.  While that certainly did not set the proper mood for a Prince concert (although it is more of an “experience” than concert), it just barely kept those of us who’d seen the movie entertained, and everyone else confused and bored. 

But eventually, the animated fish were replaced by a jazz band, led by Esperanza Spalding.  A petite young jazz musician dwarfed by her bass and immediately recognizable afro, I’d actually seen her in one of NPR’s “Tiny Desk Concerts.”  She’s very good, with a fresh voice that recalls classic jazz singers, but her style is more suited for the intimacy of a club rather than a gaping arena.  Then (after the next installment of the Nemo saga) came a singer of arena-sized voice and girth.  After this performer’s soulful serenades, we suffered through the finale of Nemo, while eagerly anticipating the headliner.  I napped.  Then, suddenly, the lights in the arena darkened, and from a trapdoor in the symbol-shaped stage rose the funky, fifty-something-year-old music icon himself. 

What can I say about Prince that hasn’t been said before?  Let it be known that I’m not really familiar with his oeuvre, outside of the Purple Rain album/film, that is.  This, however, did not prevent me from thoroughly enjoying the performance.  He began with one of his newer songs, featuring a trio of Amazonian vixens that would frequently accompany him throughout the night.  But for me, the concert did not properly begin until he sang “The Beautiful Ones” to his ballerina/muse.  And that wouldn’t be the last time he danced on his grand piano, either. 

With his band in the center, Prince roamed the stage, making full use of the 360-degree exposure—as well as trapdoors, multiple costume changes, song medleys, and guitars that seemed to appear out of thin air.  As an aspiring guitar player, I particularly enjoyed the wailing riffs and tasty licks.  Both the openers returned to the stage for a number each, which was nice to see.  Overall, the concert balanced upbeat, funky songs with down-tempo ballads.  Prince also balanced a mix of new and old songs—but nothing seemed out of place or outright bizarre. 

Except for everything.  

Essentially, it was as if we in the Izod Center were visited by extraterrestrials from an incredibly cool and funky planet for two hours, and then had to make sense of the world after their departure.  Maybe, this is what Prince meant by “Welcome 2 America.”  Who knows?  All I know, with certainty, is that “Purple Rain” is definitely a 15-minute, sing-along arena anthem; and anyone who says otherwise wasn’t there and just doesn’t get it, and probably never will.  I pity them.

And since I really don't have any pictures or videos from said concert (and since Prince thoroughly patrols the Internets for such things), I offer you this dramatized (though highly-accurate) account of the man in his prime: 

My New Favorite Band I Just Heard Of

No, not Mumford & Sons.  Although I did recently listen to their album Sigh No More just last week for the first time.  (And after this, I’m equally enamored with their sound, and perplexed as to how I missed out on these guys all year.) Definitely give them a listen.

But tonight I briefly want to mention a band I heard about on Sunday—and then again, and again.  The band Buke and Gass derives its name from the homemade hybrid instruments it members play: a baritone ukulele (“buke”), and a guitar/bass combo (a “gass,” naturally.)  They also use stomp-boxes, kick-pedal tambourines, and an array of custom distortion pedals all played through homemade amps tweaked to produce the unique sounds that populate their eclectic, but oddly catchy, songs.

As the owner of a homemade cigar-box guitar (hand-crafted by my grandfather), with an interest in creating more instruments, writing my own songs, as well as an open ear for cool local bands operating in the DIY mode—of course I was taken by Buke and Gass.

I first heard them perusing the 50 Favorite Albums of 2010 on the NPR Music website (as nominated by NPR staff in DC and at member stations.)  If you’re looking for a summary of 2010 in music and some new stuff for the iPod, I highly recommend this.  Surprisingly, the selections are more diverse than I expected, but I really appreciate this aspect.  (And unsurprisingly, the bands—and provided sample songs—are quality.)  But if you’re looking for a more passive way to get a sense of 2010’s best music, you could also listen to the latest All Songs Considered podcast, wherein the NPR music staff runs through their favorite new artists, albums, and songs of the year (many of whom I had the privilege to see in concert.)

As if a mention on both these lists was not enough, Buke and Gass also appeared at the NPR offices for a Tiny Desk Concert.  Again, you should watch it, especially if you want to check out their instruments—unique and experimental, if not especially unusual.  But as if this wasn’t enough coincidental publicity and exposure in single week, guess who’s profile appeared in the music section of the Village Voice?  Buke and Gass, of course. 

And wouldn’t you know it, they’re doing a concert this Saturday night at Mercury Lounge.  I love going to concerts (for anyone new to this blog), especially for hip local bands I first heard of less than a week before.  However, as it turns out, I will be working that evening.  Do not shed a tear on my behalf—I have cried into my growler of craft beer for many a night already.  But, if you’re anywhere near NYC this weekend, I highly recommend the concert.  And if you do happen to go, please don't rub it in (much.)
 

Two things I like very much

Sharon Van Etten and NPR: http://www.npr.org/2010/11/08/131163999/sharon-van-etten-tiny-desk-concert

You're welcome.

Media Monday

Sitting in my office (just a few hours every couple days, as per my part-time schedule) with a widescreen monitor, I wait for a phone call.  Not a specific phone call, just any.  Inevitably, even on a Monday evening, someone will call inquiring about the arts organization for which I work—whether concerning ticket prices or subscriptions, or the failings of our website or program choices (as if I have any say in any of this).  But until that ring, I have the entire Internet before me.  And usually I peruse just a few sites regularly while catching up on bits of news, listening to music, instant messaging a friend, or watching a game or video.  This time around, I came across some new bands and interesting videos I would like to share with you.

First, the music.  Once again, NPR exposed me to a few songs that struck me, well, as enjoyable.  Either they were just pure fun—the Smith Westerns—or had a sound and groove that I may like to emulate if I ever get around to making my own music, as is the case with Burnt Ones and Demon’s Claws.  Maybe it’s just a matter of the selected songs outshining their others, but I will certainly investigate the bands themselves further. 

Speaking of back catalog and further listening, NPR provided in their First Listen Series songs from an album of Bruce Springsteen songs recorded in the late Seventies but never released (until now) due to a hiatus in his career brought by on certain lawsuits.  Just as with Bob Dylan, I am familiar with Springsteen’s work, but never really gave it much of a listen.  And just as with Dylan’s bootleg album I mentioned a few weeks ago, these unreleased songs are a fantastic introduction to Springsteen and prompt me to listen to more of his music from this era.  In these songs I was amazed to hear in the E Street Band the precursor to The Arcade Fire and other ensemble bands, as well as to learn that he wrote “Because the Night” and that only because Patti Smith was in the recording studio next to his that she got the opportunity to record this song—one of her most popular singles. 

And now, the vids.  Continuing with the music theme, the November 4^th episode of the Colbert Report featured an interview with Elvis Costello, and closed with a duet sung by Colbert and Costello.  I don’t know why, but I just like this. I do perhaps because it is an uncanny way to end the show, but also for the opportunity to see a sincere Stephen Colbert (singing!) rather than his character.   

One of the sites I regularly visit while at the office, is Andrew Sullivan’s Daily Dish.  Some days, the articles infuriate or intrigue me.  Other days, I’m drawn to his “Mental Health Breaks” or poetic posts.  Although a video, this is not meant to secure one’s mental health.  Watch.  Yeah, I know.  Something that just has to be seen—a message that can’t effectively be conveyed any other way. 

Perhaps you’re sitting in an office yourself, reading this. I hope that I may have improved upon the dull, numbing milieu weighing on your shoulders, your eyelids … Wake up!  Fine, if you're so desperate, maybe Ok GO will keep you entertained:


This Too Shall Pass (Rube Goldberg version):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w

and This Too Shall Pass (marching band version):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJKythlXAIY

WTF: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12zJw9varYE

and End Love:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2fpgpanZAw

Earworms ... and a few of my favorite bands

For the last couple days, Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks” has been stuck in my head.
Have a listen. Sorry there’s no Zeppelin concert footage, but the song (as it turns out) was difficult to reproduce live and thus rarely performed on stage.

Now you understand what I’m talking about when I say it’s stuck with me:  the pounding drums of John Bonham, a wailing harmonica and Robert Plant, and the sliding guitar courtesy of Jimmy Page.  An absolutely heavy sound, right?  I love it.  And not only is this the closing song to an amazing album (Led Zeppelin IV—which also includes “Rock and Roll,” Black Dog,” and the little-known “Stairway to Heaven”), as well as perhaps the epitome of Zeppelin’s sound, but “When the Levee Breaks” represents the apogee of British blues music—the appropriation of American blues songs and aesthetics popular among British rockers such as Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and Led Zeppelin.  That’s just my (rather uneducated) opinion.  But I will say that not only does this song carry an authentic depth and groove (if not sincere pain), but the lyrics are taken from an actual Delta blues song written after the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927. (Check out Wikipedia for information on the original song and a description of Zeppelin’s incredible and pioneering production techniques.)  Sure, a bunch of white, English rock stars appropriating a sorrowful song composed in the wake of a defining tragedy—for the South, for southern blacks, and for blues music—may strike some as strange and perhaps even inappropriate.  But, in doing so, Led Zeppelin revived and continued a traditional aesthetic, the blues—the musical genre at the very root of the rock music they created and dominated. 

And the fascination with the blues continues to this day in America.  Some of my favorite bands tap into the blues aesthetic; again, hearkening to their predecessors while further developing the sound (despite the many aspects of the blues already incorporated into rock & roll).  First, there’s the White Stripes, of course.  Basically, every time I attempt to write a song—whether it’s the lyrics, or the guitar part, or if I’m just humming to myself—I want it to sound like a White Stripes song.  Jack and Meg White may be eccentric, and not every song a winner, but they are dedicated to running the guitar/drum Detroit blues-thing into the ground.  

And speaking of modern blues-rock duos, I’ve also gotten into the Black Keys, which has created its own heavy, blues-inspired sound.  However, the song of theirs stuck in my head this week doesn’t really operate in that mode.  But, I think you’ll enjoy “Everlasting Light” all the same.  Good, isn’t it?  They have something like five albums that I’ve only just barely begun to acquaint myself with.

And this brings me to two other guitar/drum duos I’ve only recently discovered/experienced live: Wye Oak and Japandroids.  Named after the late great oak tree that once lived on the Eastern Shore, Wye Oak hails from Baltimore and its unique music scene.  Although I don’t have any of their songs, and thus no great insights into their music, I did see them live this summer:

Once again, I must pay respect to NPR, since I only became aware of Wye Oak the week before the festival when I watched their Tiny Desk Concert.  The office concert displays their approach to songcraft and Jenn Wasner’s vocal abilities, but only hints at their overall sound.  On stage, the two of them produced a volume of sound: a distorted guitar wave, supported by percussion and keyboard (both handled by Andy Stack.)

I guess to be a good rock duo nowadays, you must generate a saturating, powerful sound in order to compensate for the dearth of contributing band members as well as to provoke the audience and disturb their expectations (eg. “How can two people be so loud and rock so hard?)  But certainly another aspect of these bands must surely be the challenge of their limitations, and when they succeed in surpassing those creatively ... good stuff results.  And although their sounds may vary from gritty blues-rock to hazy folk ballads to hook-driven garage-style noise rock, these types of bands are solidly among my favorites (though perhaps it’s because I can see myself in a band like this—sort of like the singer/songwriter thing I mentioned in an earlier post.) 

Japandroids!   You thought I wasn’t going to elaborate on this unusually named band, didn’t you?  Well, as a matter of fact, I just returned from their concert down at Maxwell’s in Hoboken (pretty much the best venue around).  And although it’s late and my ears are still ringing, I will write on.  Japandroids are from Vancouver, Canada and should rank among our northern neighbor’s greatest musical exports: Rush, Barenaked Ladies, Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Paul Anka, Feist, Joni Mitchell, K-OS, The Tragically Hip, The Arcade Fire, Bryan Adams … wow, that’s kind of a lot.  Go Canada, and go Japandroids!

Well, first we listened to the opener, Oberhofer, do their thing.  Turns out, that thing is some good, fun, straight-up rock.  And apparently, it’s all the brain-child of lead singer Brad Oberhofer, who produced and played all the instruments on his albums.  Then, Brian King and David Prowse stepped up to deliver their final concert of what has been a year-and-a-half tour (but their first show in NJ!).  Brian informed us that since it was their final night, they were going to let it all hang out—despite their strained voices and road-weariness.  And they delivered.  On stage, just a mad-distorted guitar and some drums trying to hold the rhythm—and the energized combination produced some seriously catchy/grungy songs.  A pit moshed (occasionally), a roadie crowd-surfed, and many lyrics were shouted: good times down at Maxwell’s, courtesy of this Canadian duo whom I’m very glad I caught before they retreated to the Pacific Northwest.