Head of Femur head back out on the road, possibly giving their last performances of the “season.” Although, I have a feeling that come late summer there will be plenty of clamor for them to get their asses into a van and drive eastward. In fact, let that clamoring begin right now!
May 15th- Minneapolis, MN @ The Uptown *
May 16th- Chicago, IL @ Schuba’s *
May 17th- Dubuque, IA @ Busted Lift *
May 18th- Iowa City, IA @ Iowa City Yacht Club *
May 20th- Lincoln, NE @ Box Awesome *
May 21th- Omaha, NE @ The Waiting Room *
May 24th- Kansas City, MO @ The Brick
May 25th- Des Moines, IA @ Vaudeville Mews
* with The Heavenly States & Poison Control Center
Head of Femur
Great Plains
March 25th 2008
Greyday Records
Beyond the band’s weirdness and artsy veneer, Head of Femur has a core spirit that has captured the imagination of thousands. The journey they have undertaken, from inception to contemporary form, underscores their unique and enduring qualities. Their narrative is a sort of mythos, inspirational in its own way, yet filled with difficult challenges. Great Plains, more than any other record in their catalog, portrays Head of Femur as the pioneers they are. With it they continue their uncompromised ethos, but over the last two years they have had the time to reflect on their situation and the willingness to move forward, adjust and absorb events that ultimately shaped the band’s present incarnation.
Since the release of Hysterical Stars in 2005, the boys of Head of Femur have taken it upon themselves to rework their operation. The mid-section of this decade saw great things for the band. They christened the first ever Intonation Festival and traveled across the country in support of Hysterical Stars. Head of Femur received favorable reviews from tastemakers such as Pitchfork for Ringodom or Proctor and Hysterical Stars. They released the EP Leader and the Falcon in October of 2007, the same month that they had a great showing at the CMJ Music Marathon. Expectations for their subsequent release were high.
Between 2005 and 2007 founding member Ben Armstrong (hear, hear!) and keyboardist Tyson Thurston left the band for other pursuits. Each contributed to Head of Femur’s newest release and remains part of the Head of Femur family. Colby Starck now attends to the bands percussive needs and Eathan Janney has transitioned perfectly on keys. As anyone who has witnessed will attest, their live show is not to be missed. They have been touring for the better part of two years with material that is featured on their Leader and the Falcon EP and their newest record Great Plains.
It is not that a revolving roster of musicians is new to Head of Femur. That has been the norm since the bands beginning. In fact that has been one of the defining characteristics of the band whose extended musical family numbers well over a dozen. Head of Femur has scaled down the magnitude of instrumentation with Great Plains. Some have said, “Head of Femur’s Great Plains sheds the excessive glory of past efforts and focuses on immediate melodies.” But this line does not aptly describe the transition the band has undergone. The style and fashion that the band projects can at times be eccentric and schizophrenic, but that is not the monolith by which they should be defined.
To call their music excessive rebuts the very movement that their prior records sought to establish. As much as minimalist 3 piece rock bands have become standard fodder for music halls everywhere, Head of Femur has asserted their belief that composition and orchestration have a place as well. They have reduced their instrumentation, resulting in more manageable live shows, but do not think for a second that they have resigned only to what is immediate, forsaking their multitude of multi-phonic, multilayered, tempo driven textures.
Mike Elsener impressively sings lead on Jetway Junior and Where’s the Fire, two of his best vocal tracks ever. Covered Wagons is one of the finest crafted songs of the season. Between it and Isn’t It a Shame, Head of Femur has definitively asserted themselves as serious song writers. Their oddness does not corrupt their talent. The narrative that the band presents in their music reflects their adventures from Omaha and Lincoln Nebraska, to the neighborhoods of Chicago, where they are not simply transplants, but are ingrained into the art and music scenes.
This Message reminds me of Chicago and my Midwestern experience. The track will never get old and is among the best they have ever written. While it doesn’t quite capture the intensity of their live show, the looped riff from Napoleon’s Boots is phenomenal. Elsener’s chops are appropriately featured on this record. Song after song presents a band that knows exactly how they want to sound; they are not confused about the aesthetic they emit. However, they seem to be unaware of their greatness. If a criticism could be leveled against them, it would be that they should tour ceaselessly. Head of Femur’s music is endearing and crisp on record, but their music is infectious and consuming live. Come see Brooklyn bitches!
Other Music
Ringodom or Proctor- 2003
Do The Tavern and Other Tall Tales iTunes EP- 2005
Hysterical Stars-2005
Leader and the Falcon EP- 2007
On Tour
April 11th 8:00PM @ Shubas- Chicago
May 15th 10:15PM @ Uptown- Minneapolis, Minnesota
May 17th 8:00PM @ Busted Lift- Dubuque, Iowa
May 18th 6:00PM @ Iowa City Yacht Club- Iowa City, Iowa
May 19th 10:00PM @ Box Awesome- Lincoln, Nebraska
May 20th 11:00PM @ The Waiting Room- Omaha, Nebraska
This year I had three days in my schedule to attend College Music Journal’s annual marathon of music that takes place all across New York City. Over a thousand bands played over 200 venues over the past week. This does not even count the hundreds of unofficial CMJ events featuring a myriad of other shows. As a former server in New York’s late night Meatpacking District, I have come to value my nights and weekends. Now that I have a right and proper day job, I could see three nights of shows in a row. This is unheard of people.
It would have been great to have had the CMJ pass so that I could wander from venue to venue seeing only the bands I personally chose. However, I did not and was left to spectacles that only chance would provide. Sometimes, when I go to shows, I catch the rare opening act that blows my mind, or at least provokes me to think about buying their next EP. Other times I shake my head and wonder what possessed me to show up early yet again. This year at CMJ there was plenty of both scenarios. Over-all it was a great experience. I not only saw some of my favorite bands, but I also got the opportunity to introduce them to others as well. I wasn’t the least bit afraid that I had over hyped them, and they did not disappoint. The following reviews are from my notes, diligently taken over three nights and over many, many beers.
I walked into this PA fellow’s set just as it began. I was happy both to be able to see Eagle Seagull in an extra small venue and to drink free beer, but hearing Peasant, aka Damien Derose, turned out to be another pleasant reason to visit the Indaba loft for CMJ. When we entered the unassuming space, the listeners were quiet and contemplative, listening to his melodic ballads. I learned that he is signed to Paper Garden Records and that he is releasing an album called On the Ground in 2008, which I am eager to hear as soon as possible.
I received a sample of Peasant’s work from his label and I was very impressed with the recording. His live performance was wrought with delicate and beautiful sunbursts and his demeanor was without pretension or guile. He was simple and deliberate, open but not protracted. I hope to see him again for a longer and more generous display.
7/9
Eagle Seagull
By the time Eagle Seagull took to the small makeshift stage, I noticed the temperature in the loft. The heat was beginning to make me uncomfortable. I was unsure as to how Eagle Seagull was going to proceed. It would be hard to dance in a sauna. I pumped some brew from the keg for my fiancée and myself, but it did not seem to cool my sweat factories. The crowd gathered as the band opened their set, bobbing their heads up and down, clearly interested in the music condensing on their skin with waves of heat and perspiration. One gentleman, seated on a couch in front, stood up and said to another seated next to him, “Man these guys are good.” The second man replied from somewhere in the bottom of his belly, “Uh huh!”
Kids leaning against the walls panted like cocker spaniels in the summer heat. The band played what I image to have been an excruciating set. For their part, they did not let the heat impair the music too severely, although I was afraid Austin was going to collapse at one point. Movement was an unappealing concept. Dancing was a meditation on heat stroke survival. But I danced and I sweated. I soaked myself head to toe at this sticky, steamy show. Perhaps if everyone in the joint danced like maniacs it would have been a better experience. Collective masochism could be cool.
I was especially excited to see the Chicago Showcase this year at CMJ. After all, in the recent past I have lived on both sides of our beloved Windy City. As usual, I arrived to Arlene’s a little early so I grabbed some prosciutto and mussels at a nearby bistro. After dinner I walked into Arlene’s not knowing what to expect. I had never been to the grocery store turned venue before. The bar is cut into two halves, a straight bar and a venue, both of which have a grim aesthetic of dingy neon. By the time my beer was in hand, Tom Schraeder was set to play.
I had heard some positive things about them in response to my promotion of the CMJ Chicago Showcase. One reader wrote, “Tom Schraeder & His Ego are a treat - like Ryan Adams and Gram Parsons, but with some Neil Young grit. I’d be there if I were in NY.” Truth be told, I do not really agree with this assessment. Ryan Adams is in no way represented in this band. If you have an alt-country act, or as I might label, alt honky-tonk, you can’t just compare them with names out of the air and hope they stick. I appreciate the sentiment though. This guy writes heart wrenching songs about love. But the grit involved isn’t a la Neil Young, it is a la Uncle Jesse Duke. But again I appreciate the sentiment- Tom’s Ego is not as clean as Gram Parsons.
Tom Shraeder’s live act was not the most dynamic show of the week. The band’s timing was very loose. At times the drums and melody seemed derailed and out of sync, and the songs were not very well defined from another. There were some Dylan-like moments, but it is an overall failed comparison. It should be said however, that there were aspects of the music that were excellent. One song grooved with strings, while the guitars became introverted and submissive, revealing a much more resplendent potential. The organ sounds projected them into entirely different territory. For five seconds their sound was related to Murder by Death, and it was awesome. Unfortunately the more subtle aspects of Tom and his Ego do not seem to be emphasized often. To my disappointment, the string section was certainly undervalued. Tom Shraeder & His Ego have demonstrated their talent. Now they need to trade in a bit of that steel for a tad more bow.
5/9
Unique Chique
This was a strange act to review. I think I liked them. Unique Chique concocted a mixture of jazzy elementals with high energy prog-rock. For the Chicagoans out there, they sounded like a more sing-song structured Tortoise. The vocalist had deep pockets of passion, standing among the more sincere performers at this year’s marathon. The problem is that I don’t think he liked his own band. It seemed obvious that this guy took this show very seriously, making the unpopulated room feel as if they weren’t good enough because of its lack of density. This aspect of their show split a hairline fracture through the band.
Unique Chique’s set was cut short, which is a shame because even if the music wasn’t the most amazing thing I had ever heard, they were fun to watch. Ernie the bassist looked to be a hyper-active Dungeons & Dragons playing, trench coat wearing, metal head. His skills were incredible and his awkward, stompish dance proved his commitment to the rhythm and roll of it all. The drummer reminded me of a skinny gold-town swindler whose nickname might be Ratsy or Barth. He had a slick skill with chiseled chops and a swanky style. The drum and bass section were quite the duo. Joe Starita’s lack of interaction with the rest of the musicians was simply odd. I might just have eaten a bad mussel, but the perceived tension definitely impaired the show.
6/9
Skybox
Unfortunately, at this point a few friends arrived and I began to fade in and out of a social coma. I did however catch most of Skybox. The last time I saw this band was at the Subterranean in Chicago. Back then they were dressed in brilliant white suits, projecting an eccentricity both musically and visually. At the showcase, they were comparatively dressed down. I almost didn’t recognize them in the earth-tone attire. But then I heard the music. Skybox has a very extroverted style. A friend turned to me and asked, “What would you call these guys.” I shrugged. In retrospect, vaudevillian berum-pum-pum tat-tat-tat comes to mind. This band is big, stout, and eager to slap your nose with a finger wiggling melodrama. They were off kilter and spastic, a little weird even. Dr. Suess might have had a hand in their warped sense of style. Thankfully Skybox flowed in full flavor.
7/9
Brighton MA
They took a while to set up and they played for what seemed like an eternity. It may have been the Jack Daniels talking but this band was no more than tedious hippie-rock. Return to social coma…
4/9
Head of Femur
Head of Femur came to New York with something to prove. How can a band known for having a multitude of multi-phonic, multilayered, tempo driven textures recombine itself into a rawer, more fundamental creature? Are we witnessing the replication of peacock DNA into that of a sparrow? I am not here to provide an account of Head of Femur’s origins, lore, and exploits, rather I have simply been charged to review their show at this year’s CMJ music marathon. Truth be told I have seen these guys far more as a 5 piece than as a 15 piece band. So hearing songs performed that might otherwise have been adorned with nine part orchestration is not entirely new.
An important item to remember while we contemplate our pleasure or displeasure is how the metamorphosis has imbued or slandered what we have come to know and cherish. Not only this but we must remember that Head of Femur has released a new EP and is set to release a new record in 2008. The very identity of Head of Femur is under review. I am not only speaking of the band mates themselves, but additionally to their ability to successfully negotiate such foundational change. Their appearance at Arlene’s Grocery displayed a band with a renewed sense of enthusiasm and confidence. Make no mistake, Head of Femur know what the fuck they are doing.
The show began with an introduction by a well spoken poet. I wonder if it is a Chicago tradition to be introduced by a poem. It reminded me of the many times I have seen Thax Douglas recite his words to puddles of second citizens. They were dressed to kill and had a decent crowd waiting as they ascended onto the stage. From the first note the energy was high and riddled with intention. A crowd of Neural Scientists dancing in the front row raved about how dreamy the band looked. Even my own fiancée was weak in the knees for this weird, weird band, especially as she said “the cute new keyboardist.”
The music was full, well written, and more alive than ever with hellacious hooks and melodies that did not come off as merely compensation for the inclusion of only four or five instruments. Rather older songs were reconceptualized within a new paradigm and new tunes defined the structure, the style, and the future of that paradigm. Head of Femur are no strangers to change. These kids have reshaped themselves many times, each instance renewing their commitment to all things beautiful and entertaining about obscurity.
Nick Westra’s charm and nonchalance while playing bass wooed the ladies as Colby Starck’s drumming emitted a sexual charisma unrivaled by even the most experienced of Kama Sutra practitioners. Matt Focht and Mike Elsener kept the front of the stage moving as they introduced new tunes to eager ears. Head of Femur is on the move people, and you all need to get with it and give these guys the attention they deserve.
I have chosen these three venues and evenings to check out what CMJ has to offer. I’ll be seeing three of my favorite acts along with many others. Click on dates for reviews of the shows.
Mercury Lounge NYC
217 E. Houston St, New York, NY
(corner Ave A & Houston)
(212) 260–4700
Rock And Roll 7:00
The Rosewood Thieves 8:00
The Airborne Toxic Event 9:00 Eagle Seagull10:00
The Little Ones 11:00
Robbers on High Street 12:00
Eskimo Joe 1: 00
RWIM Chicago Showcase Tom Schraeder & His Ego 7:30
Unique Chique 8:15 Skybox 9:00
Brighton, MA 09:45 Head Of Femur 10:45
Catfish Haven 11:45
Hollywood Holt 12:45
Crush The Clown
Crush the Clown Box Set
Extra Sensitive: super thin for more feeling
Disc 1 Potato Pop EP/BMG Demo
Disc 2 Self Titled
Disc 3 So We’re Going to Hell
Disc 4 Sick Love- Songs of Heartache and Despair
November 27th, 2006
Unsigned
The Renfields
Misconceptual Art Rock
2005
Unsigned
As this blog descends upon a quiet Midwest town in the heart of America, the clouds part barley revealing the stop lights changing colors on the streets of 14th and O, green, yellow, red and then red to green. Around the corner an establishment of some repute, both blessed and otherwise, collects $3 as cover charge for the musicians about to take stage. Tall-boys of Old Style are cracked and foam slides down pint glasses griped by the hippest of bar flies. This bar, or tavern as it is called, is home to a banquette of barely known bands. Featured this night is a musical troop quite twisted and psychedelic. This band has played this stage since its infancy. An orgiastic love child of The Beatles, The Who, The Sex Pistols, Pavement, and David Bowie circa 1971, Crush the Clown knows how to write a good pop tune. Songs whose accessibility shuttles somewhere between Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band or Eleanor Rigby and Cracked Actor or The Bewlay Brothers. More than simply a stylistic revival, Crush The Clown has made psychedelia relevant again.
The band, comprised of Nick Westra, Jerick Olivetti, and Greg Joyce, has been a local favorite of the Lincoln music scene for nearly a decade. Their production is the very definition of independent, most of the music having been recorded and mixed by the band themselves. Live performances reveal Crush The Clown at their purest and best. Here in Brooklyn, I often tell myself, if only these people could hear Crush The Clown. Tracks such as Neverbuzz, Her Lovely Brainwaves, and Sunshine define for me their incredible talent. They rock their audiences while singing melodious ballads about forest creatures and the emotional ineptitude of blood suckers. If there has ever been a band that needed a right time or a right place, it is Crush The Clown. For those of you who’d like to take a listen, visit their Myspace page. I believe they only have a single song posted, which I hope will someday change. They have a wealth of recorded material to offer up. Given in a purple Durex 24 pack, these records are a true testament to what talent, creativity, and patience can accumulate.
Nick Westra, Crush The Clown’s singer and guitarist, is very active in the Midwest music scene. Not only has he recorded bands in his basement laboratory, he has produced his own records. One such record is titled Misconceptual Art Rock under the name The Renfields, for which he played nearly all the primary instruments. The songs are brilliant orchestrations and stand apart from Crush The Clown in style and aesthetics. This record was very ambitious. I can’t say enough about the creative force invested in Misconceptual Art Rock. With The Renfields, it seems as if instead of band members, Westra’s different manic and depressed personalities feed off one another. I hope that this creative interplay continues to be productive. It is with an exercised relationship with the imaginary and a deep sense of romanticism that both projects succeed.
As a final note, Nick Westra is also the bassist for the well known Chicago rock outfit Head of Femur who are set to release an EP in October followed by a full length next year.
