Oh My God is simply one of the greatest live shows that has ever existed. I have been following these guys since about 2003, from Duffy’s Tavern to the Double Door and now to Pianos in Manhattan. It has been nearly eight years since I fist got a glimpse of the insanity that emanates from the stage – I was once fortunate enough to open for them. Anyways, I’ve told my stories about one of my all time favorite bands in prior posts (here and here), but here they are again, beginning their fall tour with us in NYC. If you know what is good for you, you’ll go to Pianos tonight a see it for yourself.
Below are a few videos from their new material. Also, visit their website oand myspace.
Arthur Killroad
The Longest Day of My Life
June 2010
Self Release
I Don’t Eat Syrup, I’m a Man
Life in the Malebolge
Once again I have spent way to much time considering how I should approach a record that is miles away from my cup of tea but one which I have great respect for in terms of song writing and recording. What can you say when a guy simply does what he does really damn well. Arthur Killroad’s music reminds me of a good and dear friend who, even when surrounded by the snobbiest of snobby indie kids, says “I write great pop songs, I can’t help it, and I’m not going to run away from it.” Arthur Killroad, or Mike Petruccelli if you prefer real names, has recently self-released The Longest Day of My Life, a seven track pop-core confection that shamelessly employs nearly every hook in the book producing a record so easy on the ears you almost forget the constricting waistline of your Skinny 511’s™. Killroad’s latest effort has markedly improved on his last venture, which was similarly hook laden, but this time around he has not only kept the lyrics clever, but he has cradled his words in a soundscape of music employing much more than his flicker fast acoustic guitar and gruff impassioned voice.
The addition of a trap set, bass, and the occasional crunchy distorted guitar punch in has added considerable value to his project. This is not to say that his solo recordings are empty, but he has simply written better music that functions in large part due to layers and contrasts. In some ways I think he could go even further. Fine…he can keep the hooks, keep the borderline emo-nouveaux melodies, keep the Ben Folds inflected voice; keep ‘em, but The Longest Day of My Life demonstrates that Killroad knows how to orchestrate, he knows how to arrange and I am interested to hear what comes next. Killroad hails from Athens, Ohio; though I am pretty sure I spied him walking around Alphabet City last year. His myspace mentions that he is on his way to Chicago, a town I am very familiar with. With new plans, a new city, and new friends, he will have a whole new pool of experience from which to draw. Killroad has let it be known that he has turned a corner in his life and his music clearly reflects that.
The Atlantic Manor
The World Beneath This World is Brightening
Do Too Records
Spring 2010
“The Captain’s Name Was Death” by The Atlantic Manor
“I am proud to be lo-fi. I know of no other way.”
The above sentiment offered by R. Sell, the Miami based singer-song writer known as The Atlantic Manor, has so much heart it inspires. He rightly suggests that no matter your resources, you can find a way to record and circulate your music amongst a community of listeners. Over the last decade R. Sell has released 11 diy, lo-fi records under the The Atlantic Manor moniker and from the looks of it, this dude has no intention of stopping anytime soon. Sell strongly identifies with the American underground music scene whose beauty and authority comes from the pure motives and raw energy of those artists that dare to do something out of the ordinary. With complete disregard for the monotonous expectations of the cacophonous clamor of the music industry’s crony-capitalist regime, Sell envisions the American underground as a community and a movement that is required in order to maintain any semblance of genuine and authentic artistry within America’s broader music economy. Simply said the shear volume of work and the grit and guts with which this project has been engaged is awesome. But it must also be said to be problematic. Any record from one moment to the next can be said to have varying degrees of relevance, but I am unsure if this can be said of The Atlantic Manor’s 11th release The World Beneath This World is Brightening.
The record opens with lackadaisical strumming and a twisted child like voice singing what seems to be a satanic version of Old McDonald Had a Farm. The second track Vessels somewhat resembles Joy Division’s Atmosphere. It is a 14 minute long cyclical and meandering progression with muted and indistinct lyrics. The strategy of the track is the same as Velvet underground’s Heroine, a simple structure with vocals littering the staccato guitar notes, though the track never builds, it does not crescendo, and it does not really move a muscle from the first note until the last. The next song, Failing By the Second, begins with a muted strum subtly sounding in the background, and a metronomic back beat that is upfront and unwavering, save the occasional fill. The song is minor and brooding; it is haunted by guitar distortion that mimics the sound of a depressed whale song or the moan of steel beams that shift back and forth in some post-apocalyptic wind.
Like the majority of The Atlantic Manor’s music, The Captains Name Was Death is structured by the cyclical pattern of a few strummed chords. R. Sell’s voice is bloodshot with humility. The track just rolls along as tremolo accents and an inartful clean tone guitar solo dance with the synthesized sound of a wood saw song. The drums for DeathCrown, the epitome of diy recording, have Stephen Morris all over them, but it is at this very moment that R. Sell’s formulations become tired. The songs run into to each other, making it difficult to decipher one from the other. While Apple Dreams definitely has wistful qualities, these qualities are mere replications of what was heard for 14 minutes in Vessels. The songs may not be exactly the same, but some might say that one’s existence makes the other obsolete.
The World Beneath This One is Brightening, like the record itself, is out of sync and out of tune; it is a mélange of minor chords and baritone mud sack sadness that never really translates into anything. At this point it becomes clear that the record is limited in its depth. The transition from The World Beneath to The Good Son is astounding in its sameness. The closer is a 12 minute depressant that perhaps encapsulates Sell’s best effort. Black River Runs’ attempt to infuse various unorthodox sounds into the haphazardly strummed guitar backed by a syth drone is quite appealing. I have received much of Atlantic Manor’s back catalog and am eager to peruse the collection of songs. Like a second-hand store, The Atlantic Manor conceals the occasional diamond in the rough, but that gem is all too often embedded in throw away tracks. I understand that The Atlantic Manor wants to be profoundly productive—11 albums in 10 years—but I would say that the band/the song-writer would be very well served if they or he or whomever was more selective of the parts of themselves that they choose to exhibit; that is if they would like their community of listeners to grow.
Other Music
Slow Drugs and Other Sorrows (2009)
On the Wrong Side of Saturday Night (2008)
All the Best Girls Have Winter Hearts (2007)
Sneaking Up on the Death Scene (2006)
The Trouble that You Left (2006)
Special is Dead (2005)
Failing by the Second (2004)
The Desperate Vibe of Emotional Devastation (2002)
The Hate We Get Going (2001)
When I am a Viking (2001)
I showed up at Pete’s Candy Store with a couple friends around 10:30, having missed every single act to play that night except for Adrien Reju. I had no idea what to expect, and I preferred it that way, as my friend dragged me out of my warm apartment after all day of a pretty solid hangover and delightful deafness from the previous night’s show at Zebulon.
We sat down in Pete’s cozy venue as Adrien Reju and her band tuned and warmed up. From the first note, they exuded warmth, and their set stayed true to that feeling throughout. The band has a quiet, bluegrass sound peppered with twangy country and singer/songwriter-ness. Their look is perfectly humble. My favorite part was Jason Loughlin’s guitar, looking like it could have been found in the back of a barn under a pile of straw. Adrien herself is small, sweet, and adorable: a look which suits the music, not to mention the venue. It seemed like Pete’s small stage and the décor in it was made for Adrien and her musicians. But back to the music: the tunes are sweet and melodic, though the rare time, they come dangerously close to coffee-house banality.
With the beauty of Adrien’s voice and the ease with which she seems to sing, the vocals were rich and interesting. The voice and its innuendo drove the subtle emotions of the songs home. The real treat of the performance was the vocals. An accompanying singer, whose name I didn’t catch, produced perfect harmonies. What a beautiful noise they made.
The bluesy musings of Jeff Shelton of Louisville, Kentucky combine the heritage developed in folk narrative story telling and a groundling’s attitude toward art. Shelton underscores this dynamism with his juxtaposition of Prisoner’s Lake, the fourth track on his latest CD titled Lazy Bones, and the subsequent track Oldest Memory. Prisoner’s Lake is a lamentful ballad with a slow and tender melody backed by a beautiful vocal track that stresses a frightful innocence. You can hear the room space and brushes as they hit the snare, creating a sense of intimacy and emotional inundation. In Oldest Memory, Shelton performs singsong poetry, highlighting erectile functions and spread eagle positions. The Mack performs more often than not at a base level. However, throughout the record, strands of warmth and artistic sincerity emanate. At these junctures, Shelton’s most tenable road to greatness is revealed.
Michael Jackson‘Who is it’ (original mix): ‘Ice Cap Zone 1′ Sonic the Hedgehog 3 OST
So electronic artist Fluorescent Grey out of California believes he has discovered a link between Sonic the Hedgehog 3 and bits and pieces of MJ’s catalog. Here is what he posted this morning:
“for those unaware of this piece of music history trivia, Michael Jackson was hired by Sega to compose the music for sonic the hedgehog 3, for whatever reason he was let go from the project. Sega ended up using the songs anyways with minor changes done to them, and Michel Jackson himself used several of these original versions to later make the hits ‘Black and White’ ‘Remember the Time’ and ‘Jam’. Most of the Sonic music was sped up to double time and keys changed. I made adjustments to each song to match them up with one another.
Since MJ is dead now we will probably never know the actual truth about what happened, but as i listen to more Dangerous and post Dangerous Michael Jackson i keep imagining Michael Jackson busting out some awesome sega genesis fm synthesis music and taking it just as seriously as he would one of his hit singles and i respect him a lot for that.”
Fluorescent Grey has created a blog to distribute is reconstructions that contrast Sonic 3′s music with MJ lyrics etc. They are most definitely worth a listen and you will want them at you’re next party. They are sick! Click the links below.
Is it true? This might not be a hoax, but it certainly could be a cleverly and intentionally perpetuated conspiracy theory with little or no merit. But if something interesting comes of it, then I suppose who cares…
Summer shows are a double edged sword aren’t they? The heat makes us acutely aware of the sticky auras enveloping ourselves and everyone around us. Forced to mingle, we herd ourselves into the small venue or cram ourselves as close as possible against the outdoor stage, sacrificing our personal space like the legions of L Train morning commuters riding in from northern Brooklyn. But the shows, they are amazing and they are aplenty. This summer looks to be very promising indeed.
Of course for me it has gotten off to a piss poor start. I intended to write a feature about a Norwegian band called Pirate Love. It would not only review their tiny EP, but talk about their live show as well. I was fortunate enough to be guest-listed for last Thursday’s performance at Pianos. A few companions and I had arrived early for a little pre-show drinking. I bullshitted with the bar-back, discovering that he is from Nebraska and that we know a few of the same folks—an altogether enjoyable experience.
Then it turns out that my name slipped through the cracks and was omitted from the guest-list. What to do? I had money for beer or the show, and seeing as one of the expenses was unforeseen, like any normal human being I chose the beer. A few other friends arrived at Pianos later that night. They relayed to me the following day that Pirate Love played a great show. From what I gather it would be a big mistake to miss these guys next time they are in town.
The following night a few friends and I were off to Prospect Park to catch Blonde Redhead. The weather, we can all remember, had been shitty the past couple of days, and it wasn’t looking good for our Friday plans. Again we arrived a bit early and stopped at a pub to drink some pints of Bass and tequila shots. After drinks we began walking toward the park as it began to sprinkle and spit. The line into the venue was very long, but clearly the fans were willing to suffer the rain—for a while. When it came time to open the gates, the park workers kept the doors closed. What was at first a slow drizzle turned into a down pour and no umbrella could really do the job. So, defeated, we walked back the F Train and headed on home. When we finally arrived in Bushwick the rain had passed and the sun broke through. Mother fucker, two shows in two days blown—and we actually made it to the venues. We did the best we could to make up for the lost time. We bought and ate some baguette, stinky cheese, and pastis while watching the sun go down on our converted factory roof.
What will come of the rest of summer is anyone’s guess but I certainly look forward to actually getting inside venues. As always, there is a standing invitation for suggestions on venues and bands. Let us know what should be seen and where. Next week, we go to Wilcoopened by Yo La Tengoat Coney Island’s ill-named Keyspan Park. I haven’t seen these guys in a while, although I was able to get a copy of their newest effort months ago. A review is certainly pending.
But listen people…the best news of the week is thatSunny Day Real Estate will be reuniting for a 20 date tour (see dates below), supporting the rerelease of their first two records Diary and LP2. My fucking God this is amazing! Jeremy Enigk is without a doubt a major hero of mine. I feel slightly ashamed that the last time I got the chance to talk with him was 2003 and I was quite drunk. My brother and I drank dirty gin martinis until he puked and was booted from the venue. It was his 21st birthday. I felt like such a dick. My brother’s inebriation didn’t stop from seeing what was then a Fire Theft show at a joint called Knickerbockers. I asked Enigk something to the effect of “Jesus or Buddha?” He snarked back at me and said “Both.”
Luckily he wasn’t too offended about my mocking allusion to his past exploits in Christianity. He went on to disclose that his favorite band is The Who. After the show I got to sit in the booth with Nate Mendel and William Goldsmith. I am not sure how I pulled it off, but it was one of the greatest moments I’ve had. We’ll see what we can do this time. Although they play at Terminal 5, a shitty venue with what seems like a million people, half of whom will be complete assholes because they hate the music. Their friends dragged them there. Enigk had an amazing showing at the Bowery Ballroom supporting his 2006 solo record World Waits. This is easily the most anticipated reunion of the decade. I wonder what else, if anything, could top it.
Here are the calendars for a few of the better NYC venues:
Sunny Day Real Estate Tour Schedule
September 17 Vancouver, BC/Commodore Ballroom
September 18 Portland/Crystal Ballroom (Musicfest NW)
September 20 Salt Lake City/Murray Theater
September 21 Denver/Ogden Theater
September 23 Minneapolis/First Avenue
September 24 Chicago/Metro
September 25 Detroit/St Andrews Hall
September 27 New York/Terminal 5
September 28 Boston/House of Blues
September 30 Washington DC/930 Club
October 1 Philadelphia/Trocadero
October 3 Atlanta/CW Center Stage
October 5 Dallas/Granada Theater
October 6 Houston/Warehouse Live
October 7 Austin/La Zona Rosa
October 9 Tempe/Marquee Theatre
October 10 Anaheim/House of Blues
October 11 Los Angeles/Henry Fonda Theater
October 13 San Francisco/Fillmore
October 15 Spokane/Knitting Factory
October 16 Seattle/Paramount Theatre
Brian E
Yellow Light District
Record Label Records
July 15th 2009
“Don’t Stop—Just Slow Down”
This motto on the cover of Brian Ellis’ newest project speaks volumes. Yellow Light District, due to be released as a limited series of 500 individually numbered 12” vinyl in July, is vintage sonic pornography for those who get a hard-on when they listen to the likes of the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack, or are obsessed with 1988’s Bloodsport…err anything Jean-Claude Van Damme. This record is no conservative, veiled throwback; it is a neon headband inspired synth-feast.
I listened to the LP while jogging through industrial Bushwick and Williamsburg. I quickly transformed into Little Mac training for my final bout with Mike Tyson in NES’ Punch-Out. Yellow Light District’s most penetrating hook is its style; It isn’t intellectual—it isn’t professorial—it is its own weird science. The first track, Theme, flawlessly begins the record with rolling waves of soft synth melodies that eventually starburst into a dance floor beat, textured with free form keyboards. As every track passes, Mr. E never lets up, always reintroducing the listener to an era some wish was long forgotten. But like the venerable Dov Charney seems to believe, some things don’t die for a reason, and there should always be those creatives out there to remind us why.
Andrew Bird
Noble Beast
Fat Possum
January 20th 2009
I first saw Andrew Bird perform as I watched back stage at 2005’s inaugural Intonation Festival in Chicago’s Union Park. He performed with a lone drummer and a loop machine, displaying his truly awe-inducing proficiency at layering himself over and over until the fullest, deepest chorus emitted from the stage stacks. It was this first encounter that attached me to his third solo record The Mysterious Production of Eggs. It was a record that defined the summer of 2005 along with the other monster releases of that year. While I cannot say that Noble Beast is a return to his earlier work—he has after all an extraordinarily lengthy and impressive repertoire, the vast majority of which sounds nothing like the music of recent years—it is worth noting that Mr. Bird has walked back a bit the more refined direction he pursued with his fourth solo release Armchair Apocrypha, returning instead to slightly more grainy rhythmic loops and eloquently worded lyrics.
The new terrain Andrew Bird chooses to explore with Noble Beast is something of a somber excursion narrated by songs written with epic cadences and animistic themes. The two most rewarding deviances from his prior works are Not a Robot, But a Ghost and Anonanimal, the later of which contains Bird’s finest song writing. Some might accuse him of dipping his toes into full fledged post-rock mockery, Tortoise meets Explosion in the Sky, but the sheer quality of the track quickly wins over and grumblings. Andrew Bird still has his obsessions with medical terminology and molecular compounds, with calcium revisiting his lyric book yet again. This record is punctuated with quaint interludes belying his fascinations with Irish folk and bluegrass. In fact the personal sentiment drawn from Nobel Beast is a result of looking back at the foundational elements of individual style, of looking inward and returning to a sense of self; while at the same time launching forward again, looking at new prospects and new tones of expression without releasing that which make him so great. Nobel Beast is simply said his best record yet.
As Bowl of Fire
Thrills (1998)
Oh! The Grandeur (1999)
The Swimming Hour (2001)
As Andrew Bird
Music of Hair (1996)
The Ballad of the Red Shoes EP (2002)
Fingerlings (2002)
Weather Systems (2003)
Fingerlings 2 (2004)
The Mysterious Production of Eggs (2005)
Fingerlings 3 (2006)
Armchair Apocrypha (2007)
Live In Montreal (2008)
Fitz and the Dizzy Spells EP (2009)
Noble Beast (2009)
Tour
Jun-8 Merriweather Post Pavilion Columbia , MD
Jun-14 Bonnaroo Manchester, TN
Jun-15 Cobb Energy PAC Atlanta, GA
Jun-18 Radio City Music Hall New York, NY
Jun-19 Bank of America Pavilion Boston, MA
Jul-10 Greek Theatre Los Angeles, CA
Jul-11 Greek Theatre Berkeley, CA
Jul-13 Red Butte Garden Salt Lake City, UT
Jul-14 Red Rocks Amphitheatre Morrison, CO
Jul-16 Britt Pavilion Jacksonville, OR
Jul-17 Marymoor Amphitheatre Redmond, WA
Jul-18 McMenamins Edgefield Amphitheater Troutdale, OR
Jul-19 McMenamins Edgefield Amphitheater Troutdale, OR
Jul-26 Squaw Velley Ski Resort Olympic Valley, CA
Aug-06 Eastnor Castle Ledbury, UK
Aug-07 Lollapalooza – Grant Park Chicago, IL
Aug-07 Eastnor Castle Ledbury, UK
Aug-08 Eastnor Castle Ledbury, UK
Aug-08 Lollapalooza – Grant Park Chicago, IL
Aug-09 Eastnor Castle Ledbury, UK
Aug-14 Haldern Pop Festival Haldern, DE
Aug-15 Haldern Pop Festival Haldern, DE
Aug-21 Glanusk Park Powys, UK
Aug-22 Glanusk Park Powys, UK
Aug-23 Glanusk Park Powys, UK
Oct-02 Austin City Limits Festival Austin, TX
