Black Hat Brigade
Fathers EP
May 29th 2009
Unsigned
Black Hat Brigade- Zombie City Shake
Far from the cavernous sprawl expressed by earlier recordings, Black Hat Brigade has recorded an EP that will be described as one of the best releases of 2009. Their Fathers EP kicks so much ass, they aren’t permitted to tour in America for fear that their presence will make the heads of residents in Williamsburg, Greenpoint, and Bushwick explode. This really is a national security thing. It is worth noting that the religious right and Billboard magazine have rigorously lobbied INS to approve visas for the band—clearly an attempt to silence northern Brooklyn’s pesky music scene. You know what I say? Fuck it’s worth it! Get your asses to NYC! Sure Robert Haughey’s vocals might remind some of fellow Canadian Dan Boeckner, but who really gives a damn?
Like the morose joy of Eagle Seagull, Black Hat Brigade’s music is entirely different and in many ways better than Wolf Parade. Fathers is defined by a paradox. Dark lyrics that speak of blood, guts, and zombies are cradles inside of some of the brightest and most expansive dance music written for the small club stage. Or maybe it is just that I can dance to anything, but we all know this to be untrue. While there is not a bad track on the 7 song + 1 reprise EP, there are certainly a few standouts. Zombie City Shake, Castlevania, and Vera are all exceptional. These songs not only have the pop sensibilities that provoke inebriated jigs, but they throw back to the epic layers common on their first EP. Here, the voluminous multifaceted interplay is harnessed to produce ridiculous crescendos, the heights of which truly press the limits of grandeur.
A note from the anticipation inducers about their upcoming record, Year of the How-To Book. We have been looking forward to this record for…well…for-fucking-ever… Below as posted on their Myspace and Facebook pages:
Our album WILL come out this year!!!
Hey all -
We haven’t been very good about updates and such over the past 8 months or so. So what have we been up to? Long story short, some utterly depressing things have happened to us and, obviously, our long overdue album “The Year of the How-To Book” has yet to be released.
That said, the album is coming out this year! Perhaps we should change the album’s title to “The Years of the How-To Book”…
Anyway, more updates to follow soon. Our heartfelt thanks to those of you still anticipating the release of this album. We hope you’ll agree with us (when the time comes) that it’s well worth the wait.
Peace & Love,
Eli andEagle Seagull
While we wait for the record to find its way to our various music machines, we wish Eli and company the best of luck and a long period of mania to follow their troubles.
There is no denying that 2008 has passed with breathtaking speed. Frederick Foxtrott comes to you this year with our list of top ten releases just a few days shy of 2009. Rather than spend New Year’s celebration in New York City, we are going upstate to spend time in the out doors, at the base of the Adirondacks. There is something poignant about spending what is typically observed by thousands of people crammed together with bright lights and loud sounds in the isolated cold with small but extraordinary company.
There is also no denying that this year proved to be an interesting time for music. The industry as a whole is largely tending to homogenize, with publications as banal as the Florida Times Union regularly looking to Pitchfork top ten lists to inspire their own critical hierarchies. The style generated over the last decade that has dominated the genre of independent music has become standard fare. It is blandly ubiquitous and overly diffuse. Nonetheless, while we got nothing perfect, there was plenty to listen to—plenty to listen to other than Vampire Weekend or Fleet Foxes, both of whom received the latest dose of sickeningly strange love from most indie media. Seemingly lost in the midst of the hollow recordings that dominate the suggestion pages of the taste-making press are truly great releases. So here they are—known and unknown—loved and loathed.
Top Ten 2008
1. M83- Saturdays = Youth
Expanding from shoegaze to stargaze, as his name implies, Gonzalez managed to not merely replicate a style modeled by Tears for Fears, Echo & the Bunnymen, and Flock of Seagulls, but he has retroactively contributed to the bleak genre of gothic pop in a way that is insertive rather than derivative. With modern instruments and production, Gonzalez (re)vitalized a style, giving color and texture to a genre that many feel has been muted by twenty years of impersonation and distillation, killed by retro themed knockoffs and karaoke bars alike (Read Review).
2. Conor Oberst- Conor Oberst
Even as he releases a self-titled record, suggesting biography, Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band offer a personal narrative that is reflexive and acutely aware of where his lyrical perspective is anchored. Released on Merge Records rather than our beloved Saddle Creek, Conor Oberst is a record that disconnects from the iconic figure that the songwriter has become, allowing for the reclamation of personhood (Read Review).
3. Eagle Seagull- I Hate EPs (EP)
With its self-degrading title, I Hate EPs gives us a most vivid taste of what Eagle Seagull is up to. It is worthwhile to listen to every word on this EP. The lyrics are most certainly still emitted from the more noir recesses of our thought processes. They embody the violence that we inflict on one another with our thoughts, our lies, our manipulations, and the perfect memories that have since been pickled in the acerbic tension of current conditions (Read Review).
4. Sigur Rós- með suð…
Icelandic for “with a buzz in our ears we play endlessly,” með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust belies Sigur Rós’ self awareness that rejects the accumulation of star-power, instead favoring the humble roles of music makers with intimate attention to detail and an endless commitment to the art rather than constructed personae that sadly distract many once great contemporaries (Read Review).
5. Shugo Tokumaru- Exit
I am quite sick of the tendency for any musician who employs a whistle in their song structure to be labeled the next “Insert Nationality” Sufjan Stevens. Shugo seems to get shellacked with this honor quite often. His instrumentality relies on a menagerie of distinct sounds that have the sole intent of forming an effervescent ambience. I don’t imagine such a project can be said to be unique to Mr. Stevens. Indeed, Shugo Tokumaru’s Exit is one of the most original records released this year, and it is certain to endear many who listen. If you get the chance to see this guy upon his North American return, be sure to catch him at an appropriate venue, so that all the glorious array of whips and bobs don’t just float away (Read Review).
6. Hypatia Lake- Angels and Demon, Space and Time
There is the band and then there is the music. It is immediately understood when listening to Angels and Demons, Space and Time that Hypatia Lake has put together a record of enormous depth. The band itself is much less a physical entity, as it is a concept. The record is diffuse and eclectic, a psychedelic feast of beautiful noise and exquisite ambiances (Read Review).
7. Peasant- On the Ground
I have said previously that Damien DeRose’s voice is flawless, but his ability to bottle that beauty is remarkable. Usually such criticism is approached from the opposite angle. People rarely question what can be recorded after seeing such satisfying live performances. I have written at some length about Peasant’s talent and couldn’t be happier with this release. On the Ground offers 13 tracks without sounding repetitive or exhausting my patience and tolerance for sensitivity, which is rare these days. Peasant accomplishes this in part by keeping his songs under 3 minutes, making sure that the bitter moments do not overstay their welcome. I am happy to announce that Peasant will be re-issuing On the Ground in 2009 with the help of Team Love Records. If there is anyone out their with a modicum of taste, Peasant will make many more 2009 best release lists than he did this year (Read Review).
8. The Octopus Project- Hello, Avalanche
For those of you who are tired of bands that seek to reproduce the melodies of Tortoise, the sequence execution of The Album Leaf, or the gravity of Explosions in the Sky, know that Hello, Avalanche is a contribution to the modern music soundscape of unique and particular character. The Octopus Project allows the audience to dance as they marvel at a functioning collection of flesh and blood, rather simply to listen with a dissatisfied and disinterested ear. This is the balance they strike; they have a defined structure without sounding sterile or methodical. Who knew Austin…who knew (Read Review)?
9. Portishead- Third
No where on this record will you find the turntable scratching of Western Eyes or Only You. Clearly Portishead is not trying to recapture elements of their past. The lyrics are depressed and relaxed, sexy and sad, and in true form this relaxation is not brought on by contentment or happiness, rather it sounds opiate induced. It conjures the image of a dim room with the yellow haze of a poppy parlor (Read Review).
10. Magnetic Fields- Distortion
The Magnetic Fields…are extremely self-reflexively aware of Distortion’s influences and have taken steps to ensure that they do not appear to take themselves too seriously. This awareness not only saves the record from obsolescence, but it is exactly what makes it so relevant to how the music industry navigates itself forward, sometimes stopping to reflect on the nostalgic moments of its past (Read Review).
Other bands have blissfully welted the ears of the interested in 2008. Delta Spirit, released their debut, Ode to Sunshine. It was soulful and courageous. I usually prefer that bands keep their “gods” and “lords” out of my CD/MP3 player, but I’ll gladly make an exception for these impassioned song writers. Look for them on Jimmy Kimmel Live on January 16th. They split the rest of winter between Europe and North America, gracing the Bowery Ballroom stage on February 21st.
Canadian melody makers Wintersleep released Welcome to the Night Sky, an incredible record that offers exceptional lyrics and noisy pop riffs. Frederick Foxtrott reviewed their debut and recommends them with complete confidence. Welcome to the Night Sky is lyric driven record themed with violence and sickness. The guitars are distorted and heavy, accompanied by a barrage of cymbal crashes, but Wintersleep never fail to ebb back, allowing the listener to hear the calm after the storm, in addition to the silence before (Read Review).
Frederick Foxtrott thanks all of you for reading and visiting over the past year. We have expanded our readership greatly and only hope to continue in growth and reviews. We have some interesting things planned in the coming months so stay tuned. If you would like your record reviewed, give us an email and we will arrange something. We aim to keep you informed of not just what is happening in the world of independent music, but what should be happening.
This year we have chosen to highlight 3 line-ups and venues for 2008 College Music Journal’s Music Marathon. Of course, we are also featuring a few bands from each list, as we know everyone could use a little heads up on these fine, fine bands.
Cory Chisel & the Wandering Souls 7:00 PM Shugo Tokumaru 8:00 PM
Audrye Sessions 9:00 PM
Love As Laughter 10:00 PM
Wild Sweet Orange 11:00 PM
Margot and the Nuclear So-and-Sos 12:00 AM
Wednesday night Tokyo’s Shugo Tokumaru will be the highlight at the Bowery Ballroom which might come as good news to those of you who have late shows to attend. He would be the perfect evening starter.
Other Lives 7:00 PM
Mother Mother 8:00 PM
Wild Light 9:00 PM
Ambulance LTD 10:00 PM Delta Spirit 11:00 PM Eagle Seagull 12:00 AM
The Virgins 1:00 AM
Friday sees perhaps the most varied selection of bands. A good spot to catch a wide selection of new and innovative artists is the Mercury Lounge.
Delta Spirit will knock your teeth in with a brick to the head…very nicely. Eagle Seagull will instill in your heart a moral ambiguity that will make your mother cry.
…dance rock’s finest ladies and gentlemen…
***This year we are going to post submissions from readers who attend this year’s CMJ Music Marathon. Write a narrative, long or short, and let us know what bands deserve attention.***
Decently produced show footage from Eagle Seagull’s performance at Paridiso in Amsterdam on May 21st of this year. I think that, in regards to a release date for their upcoming LP The Year of the How-To Book, it is safe safe to say that “Some time early in 2008″ has been modified to “Sometime in 2008,” but I think most people are fine with that, as long as they get a wink and a wave. This footage below does just that, and fine job as well. I am not even sure why I thought the record was coming sooner than later. I probably just made it up.
Also if you would like to read some of Eagle Seagull’s exploits as they toured with The B-52sclick here. Eli Mardock tells The Reader a harrowing tale of a nipple pinching deviant, a nippy Fred Schneider, and the true meaning of family fun at Disney Land. Enjoy!
In order to tie up some loose ends I thought I’d look back to 2007 when married couple Dan Boeckner, of Wolf Parade, and writer Alexei Perry released Plague Park under the moniker Handsome Furs. The band, named for a short story penned by Alexi, toured Europe before Plague Park was even complete. Granted, the Montreal duo had plenty of help in the label and marketing department from their association with Wolf Parade, benefiting from their status as a major buzz band of ’06 and ’07. The signs warning of Handsome Furs potential flaws were certainly imposing. Another successfully crafted record by a husband/wife team only a couple years after Apologies to Queen Mary? Let me guess, guitar riffs backed by synthesized drum sequences. Lay your doubts to rest, for someone who was never quite interested in the Wolf Parade bandwagon, this record will impress. I have had the disc for a while now, but it has only come to my attention as of late that Plague Park should have someone championing it for what it is, a great fucking record.
Those elements beyond guitar and beat machine that elevate Handsome Furs above their initial humdrum grow in your bones the more you listen. What you want to distrust becomes clever and interesting. The sequences become ingenious and you feel cheated because you’ll never get to be the one who thought of it. Isn’t that one of the best compliments you can give; distain because some band claims another inch of creativity from a nearly exhausted cerebral fabric? Boeckner’s voice is intensely woeful, and the lyrics are beautiful. They shuttle from dirge to digital, expending high amounts of energy but quick to slow and return to contemplation. There is never the sinfulness of Eagle Seagull or the synthetic dexterity of Xiu Xiu, but Handsome Furs deals a heavy blow to snobbish ears. Plague Park is an urban memory of rural roots; it is an exhalation of intimate song-craft; it is a great fucking record.
Eagle Seagull
I Hate EPs (EP)
March 11th 2008
Self Released
In terms of record labels, Eagle Seagull is in the process of solidifying the framework in which their second record will be released. While they negotiate the terms of their future, they have been kind enough to put out a li’l som’n som’n for us to chew on, at least until they finish preparing their forthcoming effort The Year of the How-to Book. As is widely known, The Year of the How-To Book was produced by Ryan Hadlock, who has produced for artists such as Blonde Redhead and Steven Malkmus of Pavement. The record is due out sometime this year. Meanwhile, Eagle Seagull has committed to a domestic tour with such acts as Tokyo Police Club and The B-52s, with Europe to follow later in the year. This darling band has a lot to look forward to in the coming months.
I Hate EPs isn’t really an EP, it is a single of epic proportions that serves as a bridge from their debut to their new material. In this sense it is a “true EP” in that it acts an extension of recorded material, rather than a lump of five or six songs released as a sort of mini-album. It contains two songs which will almost certainly be on their upcoming record and three live previously released tracks. With its self-degrading title, I Hate EPs gives us a most vivid taste of what Eagle Seagull is up to. It is worthwhile to listen to every word on this EP. The lyrics are most certainly still emitted from the more noir recesses of our thought processes. They embody the violence that we inflict on one another with our thoughts, our lies, our manipulations, and the perfect memories that have since been pickled in the acerbic tension of current conditions.
I’m Sorry, but I’m Beginning to Hate Your Face is as great as its title. It embodies the romantic ideal that all things worthwhile and all things that are imbued with meaning are tethered to the relationship between those who have loved. This romance is not always pretty, as we often experience the instant karma of our deeds. With a dramatic wish, we want those who have wronged our affection to reap what they have sown. Specifically this song reflects on the love of an empty shell. A façade, a void, something not full, something love is supposed to be. In the end we are left with only our resignation to reason and disparagement of what lacks. The betrayal of love is met with the bitter negotiation of the perfect past moments and the inevitable question of, “How has it come to this?”
“We don’t talk about love; we don’t talk about sex; we don’t talk about dreams; we don’t talk about you; we don’t talk about me; we don’t talk about anything at all.”
What follows is a morose confessional recounting the fucked up duality of our sins and our victimization. I Don’t Know if People Have Hated Me, but I Have Hated People contrasts a person’s transgressions with their claim to be oblivious to what has been trespassed against them; it questions whether that obliviousness entitles them to assume that everyone else is just like them. It is the self discovery that they are in fact a monster. The song is beautifully played to an ominous piano progression interwoven with a most depressed, yet precious violin. The song ends with a surprising appellation of positive character. The narrator submits that they do not know if they have been forgiven but that they have forgiven others, which in context with their obliviousness speaks to the entitlement they feel. We are all monsters. We are all human.
The rest of the tracks, Your Beauty Is a Knife I Turn on My Throat, Heal It/Feel It, and Holy, are live cuts of songs from their debut self-titled record. They are appropriately faster, making them more danceable and aggressive. Carrie’s violin has a noticeably increased and appreciated presence in the live versions. The live recordings capture the band’s energy and attractive style perfectly. Eagle Seagull’s strength comes from their ability to define incommunicable moments. They may not use the most accessible words or the most flattering melodies, but their abstractions are extraordinarily palpable. God damn, this band is good.
Shows
Mar 19th 2008 8:00PM @ Birdy’s w/ Tokyo Police Club- Indianapolis, Indiana
Mar 20th 2008 8:00PM @ The Jackpot w/ Tokyo Police Club- Lawrence, Kansas
Mar 22nd 2008 8:00PM @ Kilby Court w/ Tokyo Police Club- SLC, Utah
Mar 24th 2008 8:00PM @ Independent w/ Tokyo Police Club- SF, CA
Mar 25th 2008 8:00PM @ Glass House w/ Tokyo Police Club- Pamona, CA
Mar 26th 2008 8:00PM @ Troubadour w/ Tokyo Police Club- LA, CA
Mar 28th 2008 8:00PM @ Soma w/ Tokyo Police Club- San Diego, CA
Mar 29th 2008 8:00PM @ Clubhouse w/ Tokyo Police Club- Tempe, Arizona
Mar 31st 2008 8:00PM @ Meridian w/ Tokyo Police Club- Houston, Texas
Apr 1st 2008 8:00PM @ House of Blues w/ Tokyo Police Club- Dallas, Texas
Apr 3rd 2008 8:00PM @ Studio A w/ Tokyo Police Club- Miami, Florida
Apr 5th 2008 8:00PM @ Backbooth w/ Tokyo Police Club- Orlando, Florida
Apr 7th 2008 8:00PM @ 40 Watt Club w/ Tokyo Police Club- Athens, Georgia
Apr 8th 2008 8:00PM @ Exit/In w/ Tokyo Police Club- Nashville, Tennessee
Apr 9th 2008 8:00PM @ The Spot w/ Tokyo Police Club- Cleveland, Ohio
Apr 25th 2008 8:00PM @ Theater of Living Arts w/ The B-52’s- Philly, PA
Apr 26th 2008 8:00PM @ 930 Club w/ The B-52’s- Washington DC
Apr 27th 2008 8:00PM @ The National w/ The B-52’s- Richmond, Virginia
Apr 29th 2008 8:00PM @ House of Blues w/ The B-52’s- Cleveland, Ohio
May 1st 2008 8:00PM @ House of Blues w/ The B-52’s- Chicago, Illinois
May 4th 2008 8:00PM @ Gothic Theater w/ The B-52’s- Englewood, Colorado
May 6th 2008 8:00PM @ Show Box w/ The B-52’s- Seattle, Washington
May 7th 2008 8:00PM @ Roseland w/ The B-52’s- Portland, Oregon
May 9th 2008 8:00PM @ The Independent w/ The B-52’s- San Francisco, CA
May 10th 2008 8:00PM @ TBA- Los Angeles, California
May 11th 2008 8:00PM @ House of Blues w/ The B-52’s- Anaheim, California
May 19th 2008 9:00PM @ Point Ephemere- Paris
May 20th 2008 9:00PM @ Grand Mix- Tourcoing
May 21st 2008 9:00PM @ Paradiso- Amsterdam
May 23rd 2008 9:00PM @ Trix w/ Sunset Rubdown- Antwerp
May 24th 2008 9:00PM @ Gebaude 9- Cologne
May 25th 2008 9:00PM @ Lagerhaus- Bremen
May 27th 2008 9:00PM @ Schocken- Stuttgart
May 28th 2008 9:00PM @ ISC- Bern
May 29th 2008 9:00PM @ 59:1- Munich
May 30th 2008 9:00PM @ Szene- Vienna
May 31st 2008 9:00PM @ Beatpol- Dresden
Jun 1st 2008 9:00PM @ Magnet- Berlin
I have recently returned from the Midwest, where I spent Christmas with my family and my wife. It was great to see old friends and how my home town has changed in the years that I have been away. My favorite bar has been by some accounts blacklisted by those who disapprove of new ownership, the intrusion of a malformed elevator shaft into the stage space, and a shift in demographics. Hip kids perceive the fraternity types to be taking over and thus have moved elsewhere. This xenophobia has been transliterated onto the music scene itself. I visited a new venue in Nebraska called Box Awesome. Immediately upon entering, I knew that this joint had collected the cool juice that had spilled over from downtown’s once great music venues. Everything from the art on the wall to the position and quality of the stage and the people circulating the room left the impression that Box Awesome was attached to a scene. It was a happening place that I could easily imagine running into on the Lower East Side or in Williamsburg.
To some the energy that is derived from such a venue is coveted. The covetous nature of what I saw that night is a microcosm of what seems to be happening in independent music. When I entered Box Awesome a band called UUVVWWZ was slated to play. I had recognized Jim, the main guitar player and writer from Mr. 1986, and was expecting a great show. As the band completed their sound check, the lead singer Teal began to hum and moan into the mic. What ensued captivated the audience and had the house moving. The music was nicely awkward with solid riffs punctuated by the jammy interplay between the bass and guitar. But I could not help but scoff at the shrieks of Teal Gardner. UUVVWWZ sounded as if Veruca Salt bitched and screamed until her father bought her a band. They incorporated some of the more vocal forward elements of Sleater Kinney and the more mundane aspects of Deer Hoof. She mostly failed to utilized her words or proffer her utterances as anything other than the whiny shenanigans of a preschooler. When Ms. Gardner sang with a more tender tone it was evident that the band had promise. Even when she screamed there was a raw vociferousness that was pleasurable. But the fact remains that most of the time, she just sounded like a girl whose shtick was to sing by singing badly. UUVVWWZ then came off as noise. This describes a major trend in independent music that has culminated in 2007.
The quest to become the oddest of the odd is not one taken by fools alone. There have been many great and glorious records to come out of such attempts. Others however fail with attention too often placed on what is possible, or what can be done, rather than any consideration of what effect or aesthetic the music might have when it is listened to. Importantly, a premium has been placed on what is disconnected. Caché is derived from the anti-structured expletives that valiantly discourage mainstream attention. The Fiery Furnaces had their try and stumble with Widow City in 2007, while Battles succeeded with Mirrored to produce interesting rhythmic weirdness. Perhaps Battles did well because of the lack of worded vocals. Either way, the critics of 2007 loved any attempt to reformulate the way we listen to music, giving praise to records that if critiqued at another time would be recognized as trite and be doomed to be forgotten. Noise can only be new a few times.
Animal Collective rose to the occasion and released a record with intense creativity when times were fertile for their brand of music. They were not lazy just because it would have been easy to crank out a crap record and still have gotten recognition because of their “pioneer” status. They took it upon themselves to step it up when more people would be looking, although Animal Collective member Panda Bear released what some have erroneously called the best record of 2007. This record was possibly the least important release of the year, but alas, he cloned The Beach Boys in a way that Band of Horses did not. Kudos for that, but I’ll probably never intentionally listen to Panda Bear’s Person Pinch again. This year has been a year in which the discombobulated has thrived and the straightforward has succumbed to the rise of distracted glitchy antitheses.
In 2007 Wilco played us simple songs uncovered and bare of what otherwise might have been expected from a band that pushes their songs to the textural limit of pop. Bright Eyes recorded Cassadaga, leaving Lincoln Nebraska’s former recording landmark Presto Studios for the wider scope of pan-America. Similarly Bright Eyes’ music ranged from intimate to epic, teeming with themes of isolation, alienation, and the large scope of the American experience. Beirut has given 2007 an expanded and improved collection of tracks that out perform much of their previous catalog, proving to us that Zach Condon will be around for a very long time.
This year has acquainted me with bands such as Pela who have written and recorded one of the most undervalued American rock albums of this decade. Other bands like The National and The Twilight Sad have altered indie rock’s accumulated stigma as poorly recorded cock rock. Groups molded into the archetypal formulas of Jet and The Strokes are getting less and less attention. On the unsigned front, Yes, I Attempt (now named Boys Dance, Girls Die) from Montréal have recorded a few tracks that should be getting noticed any time now. Once they book shows, I know it will only be a matter of time. Immovable Objects and The Depreciation Guild have put together two very beautiful and encouraging records. They are delicate, tender, and dense. I am very curious to read what other critics make of these acts as they achieve greater prominence.
This year I have sat in disbelief at critical reactions to many albums. I have a place reserved in my heart for Rilo Kiley, but another release like Under the Blacklight will most certainly jeopardize the charge of my opinion. I almost mistook Spoon’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga for an Oasis record…and that is a bad thing. Stars have been noted for their retro nuanced pop, but they come off sounding like pretentious hacks, who are too self infatuated that they have over looked the fact that they are perhapes the most derivitive band I have heard in a while (Sorry Amy Millan, I’ll always love you). Another much loved artist to make new songs from dated styles is Jens Lekman, who is touted as the ultra euro-romantic. While he is by no means awful, Lekman’s mannerisms never quite have the pop appeal of Belle and Sebastian or the sassy nature of Morrissey, yet he tries to fuse the two into a seamless product. When I listen to him, I am reminded of what he is not, rather than what he has to offer. I know…too bad for me.
The internet has seen a few antics this year. The identity of The Tuss has fueled more controversy with people who usually wouldn’t care. Radiohead released an amazing record and distributed it themselves via the internet for a price to be named by the buyer. They caused a false scandal when it was discovered that In Rainbows would be initially downloadable at only160kbs. Idiots finally found Radiohead’s flaw… they are money grubbing leaches… hmmm. Au Revoir Simone has risen from a relatively little known band to an internet sensation. Based on the amount of internet buzz I expect these ladies to do well in the coming year. While I did not give them the most stellar review, after listening to Under the Blacklight, I am convinced that The Bird of Music has done more musically in 2007 than Rilo Kiley ever dreamed of or cared to try. In fact Rilo Kiley loaned everything cool about themselves to the Brooklyn trio.
After much consideration I have decided to include a Frederick Foxtrott Top 10. It is flawed and conflicted but it covers a good portion of what 2007 had to offer.
*Elliot Smith’s New Moon and Sigur Rós’s Hvarf/Heim are respectfully excluded from consideration.
I am looking forward to 2008. It will be the year that Eagle Seagull tours across the nation with their new record, finding their name on many a critic’s top 10 list. Head of Femur will take this year to watch their hard work pay off with their new release Great Plains. Born Ruffians and Stardeath and White Dwarfs will release their debut LPs to audiences eagerly awaiting full lengths. Born Ruffians will be one of the best bands to hit the shelves in 2008 and if Stardeath’s shows are any indication of their abilities in the studio then I am afraid to hear how good they’ll sound next year. As Paper Garden increases its roster of notable artists, both past and present, they continue to impress me with their sensibilities and nose for great music. Peasant will no doubt have huge success in the coming year. Thanks for reading Frederick Foxtrott and we hope to make next year’s reviews more abundant and informative. While from my perspective 2007 was not a great year for independent music, I predict that 2008 will be an exceptional year, serving to define a most crucial time for the independent industry.
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.
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.
This band is as generic as their name implies. They deliver the expected. Suited in tight, tight, tight, tight jeans, open chest (un)buttoned down shirts, pointy shoes, and Asian scarves stolen from some poor schmuck off Bedford and 6th Street, these guys go straight for the fuck factor. Their sound combined grit and fashion, which can be appealing when remembering the commodified New York “indie” rock sound of 2003. In this way they sound a bit dated. There was a time when I would limit my presence at any given bar to the number of times that one Jet song was played on the juke box. That number was three, and it occurred far more often and quickly than one would suppose.
For their part, this Parisian quartet is good at what they do. Every song that passes another piece of clothing came off, perhaps under the impression that a little skin can only improve a rock show. The band occupies the nexus where mod-style meets sex-rock, not a bad place to be when you are hard up for a blow job. They are danceable and rhythmic, arrogant and out for a good time. In retrospect this was a good band to have as an early opener. I asked two of the band members who they would like to see on the evening’s line-up. One mentioned Robbers on High Street, although I don’t believe he got the chance, and the other didn’t seem to know anyone else was scheduled to play. How Rock and Roll is that? What Rock & Roll needs to understand is that beyond the manufactured New York socialite costume and the ease with which it is taken off, a rock band still has to rock.
5/9 (4/9 if you absolutely can’t stand tight pants)
The Rosewood Thieves
I’ve never quite understood how original music can harken back to anything, as is often touted for The Rosewood Thieves, much less music from the 60’s, perhaps the decade most responsible for modern music. But I’ll look past this contradiction because this bluesy, folksy, tres cool turtleneck rock band is pretty damn good.
The stage featured two performance artists, one reading on stage and the other committing his deepest thoughts to paper, or at least that is what his expressions would have you believe. The actors were a bit dramatic. I imagined their inner monologue, “Okay Peter, just remain contemplative.” The natural motor response to this motivational thinking was a shrug of the brow and tap of the pencil to the lower lip, until the actor burst into a furious fit of a creative writing exercise. This was novel for a moment, but I found myself so desperate to ignore the act that I pondered whether the lead singer’s hair was more Iron Butterfly or Carol Brady.
I got it though. The rattle and hum vibe of this band was meant to embody creativity receiving inspiration. This is from where the 60’s-early 70’s harkening is derived. The obvious influences of Bob Dylan and Lou Reed ooze from the stage as The Rosewood Thieves performed their act. I was reminded of Blond on Blonde as I listened to their set. They have what I have termed the “Dylan Phono-Aesthetic,” or DPA. I think it is a quality that Dylan popularized, but ultimately is inherently found within many artists from many generations. From this perspective I understand The Rosewood Thieves originality.
6/9
The Airborne Toxic Event
The next act casually came out wearing black outfits, unconcerned with whether they made people horny or not. Despite the captivating reverb layering their vocals, I felt that their first song fell flat and that the band was uncomfortable on stage, which is completely understandable. The stage can be an incurably frightening place. The music was not extraordinary, as they kept a safe distance form anything approaching experimental. Throughout the set, the songs would stop abruptly, seeming to sever the moody atmospherics with an unexpected and sometimes clumsy collapse of structure. After listening to four tunes, I needed more substance to keep my interest.
I must say however, that my experience with The Airborne Toxic Event would be likened to a glass half full, rather than one half empty. The signature element from this band is the vocals. You can tell he means what he sings. They have the pop-sense to authentically navigate the balance between a timid and frank melody and an intensity that accompanies aggressive sincerity. I see the severed endings as an attempt to contextualize these moments of pure intensity in the all-too-often reality of failed resolution. I can’t wait to see where these guys go. They are most certainly on my watch list.
It is hard to watch this band in any venue and not think to your self, “Could they build any bigger wall of sound?” This is a most pleasing aspect to Eagle Seagull, especially when you are all the way up front getting pounded by the speakers like a dusty carpet on a porch column. I danced like a mad man as usual, but this time I made a conscious effort to tone it down as much as possible. It is slightly frustrating to see these guys play such great songs with such ease. Carrie was always displayed in a nonchalant pose, while Eli shuttled between his roles as an emotional wreck and chic piano man, occasionally smiling as if to internalize the band’s collective brilliance as he looked above and beyond the crowd. Complimenting Carrie’s soft stance, Austin played his guitar with such a heartfelt fervor, angulating toward the ground as his body shivered to Brit’s high-hat roll.
The band ran through their set, again keeping only Your Beauty Is A Knife… from their debut. The rest of the tunes were from their upcoming record The Year of the How-To Book due out early next year. Eagle Seagull’s new songs are nearly as familiar to me as the older ones, which speaks to the infectious nature of Eagle Seagull’s melodies. I hope I can get my hands on a copy of the new record as soon as possible. It was produced with Ryan Hadlock who worked with one of my favorite bands, Blonde Redhead, on the release of Misery is a Butterfly and Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons. The only real flaw of their evening at The Mercury Lounge was the length of their set. Not only did they start ten minutes early, but they finished after only 35 minutes. I know that CMJ schedules can be tight, but who couldn’t use a little more Eagle Seagull…I mean really people.
8/9
The Little Ones
Named after two little pug dogs, this ultra-annoying LA jam squad were the worst! When I think The Little Ones, I think Hootie and The Blowfish, or Big Head Todd and the Monsters. They just couldn’t bring their summer keg-party to my cold, cold heart. To be honest, and I hate to say it, they smiled too much! No one can be that happy. I was taken from the great show I paid for, was then boxed-up and shipped off to some Hawaiian luau…Yuck! Hillary, my fiancée looked to me with a flat expression and said, “These guys suck.” She may have been a little harsh. At best I can say that they just aren’t my style. That’s fair right? But I’d also say that they shouldn’t be anyone else’s style either. Everyone has their own taste, but I found myself pitying their overtly transparent happiness and manufactured good-times. Did I mention that the keyboardist looked like a Hanson brother?
3/9
Robbers on High Street
Apparently what ever crowd that had amassed during Eagle Seagull agreed with my stellar review of The Little Ones. The venue was definitely beginning to clear out as Robbers on High Street took the stage. It is a pity that there were not more people around. Not even a trace of Rock and Roll. I guess given the nature of CMJ, people had moved to see what ever show was to float their proverbial boat. These cats didn’t dance, they didn’t strut, and they didn’t even cock-walk. There was an element of sophistication in their lack of showmanship. Before I get myself into trouble, I mean to say that they put on a great show because they didn’t try too hard. They were simply a good band. Robbers on High Street have pop rock roots utilizing layered vocals and a dense rhythm section. In the most unimaginable way, they are what I might imagine the bastard child of Portishead and Voxtrot would sound like.
5/9
Eskimo Joe
Unfortunately I lapsed into a social coma and am not able to report anything useful concerning this band.
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