So there is something called anti-folk…is there now brewing both in America and Britain, Australia, and New Zealand, a new style that might be called anti-rap? Zip Hop? I think so. Brooklyn based Das Racist have made an addendum to this burgeoning genre with their EP We Made It. I don’t want to over state their brilliance, they are after all extremely repetitive, sophomoric, and hook driven, but their level of mockery convinces me that the duos mere existence is one big sarcastic, backhanded compliment to the presence of hip-hop in the mainstream, a genre that has begun to take itself too seriously. Himanshu Kumar and Victor Vazquez not only name artists who they love but those mainstream villains they think need to go home, including Ludacris and Eminem. It is hard for a style so steeped in insincerity to stay relevant, but for now I’m digging it. Go to their Myspace page and listen to Rainbow in the Dark. That track about sums them up. I am not sure if we’ll ever hear from Das Racist again, but I am extraordinarily happy I got to hear them at all.
Tour
04/14 – Brooklyn, NY @ Glasslands w/ Wild Yaks
04/16 – Middletown, CT @ Wesleyan w/ Acrylics and Francis & The Lights
04/18 – Brooklyn, The Shank w/ Bear Hands & Tony Castles
The National
Phosphorescent
Maps & Atlases
Eisner and Lubin Auditorium NYU
February 28th 2008
Let’s get the negatives out of the way, shall we?
1st- There was no beer. Now this might seem to be a point of rather small stature but given points 2 and 3, the omission of alcohol was severely detrimental to the entire experience.
2nd- Don’t let its name fool you, The Eisner and Lubin Auditorium is pretty much a high school gym. The sound was pretty awful. The show was only $8 so complaints are hard to make, however, them’s the facts folks.
3rd- I was surrounded by NYU students. This isn’t inherently a bad thing, but I felt as if I was attending a hipster-slut convention.
I entered the auditorium as Maps & Atlases began their set. Mustaches make for darling bands, do they not? These guys were very talented on the music making front. Their style is very similar to Unique Chique, utilizing elements of jazz guitar tone fused with progressive rock beats. In fact Maps & Atlases are a pretty standard example of Chicago indie rock. They even use vibraphones. If Tortoise, Sea & Cake, and Unique Chique are your thing I am absolutely positive that you’ll appreciate Maps & Atlases. The vocals of Dave Davison set them apart from other bands in their genre in that they are punchy. The vocals don’t necessarily play second chair to the jazzy, experimental music. The guitars are tapped instead of strummed so that the collective punch of the drums, bass, vibraphones, and vocals combine in a free-flowing percussive orchestration. All the instruments work in syncopation.
The three bands were very different from one another. Phosphorescent has a beautiful and soft quality laden with animistic lyrics and an American Gothic aesthetic. I would not be so familiar as to outline Matthew Houck’s influences except to say they certainly hail from the vicinity of southern folk. As mentioned to me by a friend, the band seemed stuck in a perpetual state of near collapse. Each musician was very concerned with what the other band members were playing. But this looseness did not detract from the performance. Houck’s vocals were a tremendous croon. He did not shy away from experimentation, looping his voice over with octaves of bellows and screams, a sure sign that he writes his music solo. In many ways I’d compare him to O’death minus the psychosis. He seems to be pleading not seething. Fair play Southern troubadour, fair play.
When The National took the stage, it was immediately apparent that this band had their shit together. First off it must be said that even as I compared Bryan Devendorf‘s drumming to Stephen Morris from Joy Division, experiencing the on stage presence of Matt Berninger was amazing. It was as if Ian Curtis never died, grew up, and mellowed out. The resemblance is pretty astounding, if not in looks than in spirit. When he wasn’t spittin’ his poems into the mic, he turned away from the audience and let the music consume him. His stage manner is conterminously intense and timid. Especially memorable was their performance of Mr. November. Watching this guy go ape-shit was a treat. When I watch a gorilla looking metal fuck scream and wince it has no more appeal than a cow fart. When a rail thin, contemplative type, hugs him self so hard that he bellows out his sweet, sweet words, I am simply moved.
These guys definitely knew what they were doing. I got the sense that they have been around for a while. In contrast to Phosphorescent, they commanded their instruments with exactitude. Every note was hit with deliberation. Fake Empire was ridiculous. They made us certain that after our trite experience as 20 somethings, we can definitely look forward to a period of disgruntled 30 somethingness. In short through no fault of their own they made the bourgeois problems of the disaffected youth look pretty pathetic. What does a 21 year old really have to say about life? Sigh…
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.
Meaning: I am disabled, communicate with me…
Swedish Phonetic Alphabet: Filip
International Phonetic Alphabet: Frederick/Foxtrot
Coincidence?
I think so…
And so begins my obligatory review of Radiohead’s self-released seventh studio album In Rainbows. In a marketing move unparalleled in recent memory, Radiohead surprised the music world with their short notice release. First came the THE MOST GIGANTIC LYING HOAX OF ALL TIME (in reference to the title of their 2004 DVD The Most Gigantic Lying Mouth of All Time), then came the light hearted apology from someone in the Radiohead camp (see comment below LP7 article), and then came the digital release of In Rainbows for a price to be determined by the purchaser, buyers throwing as much or as little money at the record as they please. The series of events unfolds daily.
I of course bought the disc-box to be released on or around December 3rd for $81.50 because I am a gimmick sucker who needs the liner notes, artwork, and vinyl records. Damn the greenback’s worthlessness! All of a sudden Radiohead was on every music blog known to man, woman, and child. Even the ultra hip blogs, too cool to blog on Radiohead, blogged about how they weren’t blogging about Radiohead. I on the other hand am compelled to add to the chorus of accolades you have no doubt already read. I will say it from the git’go, In Rainbows is an incredible album.
15 Step makes the perfect transition from Hail to the Thief, incorporating a hyper dense drum intro and Yorke’s gospelesque croon. One might assume that this bridge would continue into some extension of their sixth album, but In Rainbows is not contained within such a linear trajectory. Bodysnatchers reminds us that Radiohead hasn’t lost their pre-post-postmodern charm as recorded on Pablo Honey and The Bends and then perfected on OK Computer. As a delicate and contemplative Rhythm and Blues track, Nude delivers as good as any Radiohead song has ever delivered. The song is so sensitive you can hear the guitar pick click down the chord like a washboard. This song is easily among Radiohead’s best. All I Need is a heavy, erotic, almost oppressively desirous expression. Lines like, “I’m an animal, trapped in your hot car,” spoken with resigned conviction, induce the sense of weighty heat. In some ways In Rainbows is Radiohead’s most sexual album, if not because of the lyrics then because of the soft tension and resignation emphasizing vulnerability.
How do we even begin to deconstruct Faust Arp? Faust sold his soul and Arp co-founded the Dada art movement in Europe after the First World War. Dada was a self proclaimed anti-art movement. With Radiohead’s distaste for the music industry’s standard operating procedures, perhaps the title has to do with contractual relationships with commercial entities. It was only after Radiohead came out the other end of that meat grinder that they had the clout, the authority, and cultural standing to depart from the commercial structure and operate as its antithesis with 1.2 million records sold on their own on the album’s first day. While pinning meaning to a Radiohead song is rarely productive, this song is themed with voyeurism, with being watched, with performance, with expectation, and the relationship between the audience and the artist. Faust Arp is a short and gorgeous tune laced with a poetic string arrangement and provocative lyrics.
Reckoner is the crescendo of In Rainbows. Thom Yorke’s vocal melody and solemn vibrato tear away at the heart. The urban-trap beat contrasts with the violins and the phantom vocals layered throughout this perfectly crafted song. If you listen closely at the end of the track you can even hear the song transform into an up-tempo jingle. Reckoner reminds us why Radiohead is so good. They are prolific in both their creativity and their ability to construct new spaces in which to explore the human condition and the range of our collective experience. Yes, they are that good.
And on and on and on again. So much can be said for this record. In Rainbows balances the complex and the simple challenging the listener as it awes them. The closing track Videotape is a rather straightforward dirge lamenting loss and recognizing regret, wanting moments of our past back. Not to correct them or improve them, but to live them again, keeping everything exactly the same. As the song concludes, drums build into a slow polyrhythmic snare roll, as if to count down the seconds remaining in our lives. In Rainbows is not a retreat from their more eccentric work, rather it is a reaffirmation of their exemption from a linear trajectory. I cannot wait until the disc-box gives me 8 more.
So the Hipster Olympics sketch is not original. So what? What in hipster culture really is? The video is attributed in its conclusion as an adaptation of Upper-Class Twit of the Year from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Take a look at the sketch and see why Hipster Olympics is not a cheap knock off, but rather an updated social commentary keeping the humor and spirit of “the joke” alive.
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
