9:00 Beep Beep
10:00 UUVVWWZ
11:00 Old Canes
12:00 Orenda Fink
1:00 Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson
This Thursday, October 22nd, Beep Beepkicks off Saddle Creek’s showcase in the appropriately placed Knitting Factory; appropriate, because it is in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and a hop, skip, and a jump from my front fucking door! Beep Beep is an eclectic 5 piece with band members ranging from Darren Keen, one man beat dropper of The Show Is the Rainbow, to Ian Francis, lacerating drummer from The Machete Archive, a progressive postrock bud of a band making noise in Nebraska (check out Keen’s newest release Wet Fist, definitely worth a listen, and The Machete Archive’s debut Tempus Omnia Vorat).
Beep Beep is textured with threads of comfortable androgyny. Their music is a soft velveteen seduction, punctuated by the jarring insertion of an almost violent outburst of guitar and drums. Come prepared to swallow the groove, to ogle the hot one in the crowd, to watch Beep Beep set the cool and smooth in motion only to knock each other off center, exposing the slightest tension in an otherwise graceful fusion of romance and erotic emanations. It is like listening to Sade, Morrissey, and the Rapture at the same time. YUM!
Other bands gracing the stage are UUVVWWZ, a band that has come a long way from their humble beginnings. This band personified all that was musically confected in 2007; I knew it was only a matter time before someone caught on. Jim Schroder still plays his masterful guitar. These guys are quite the fucking experiment so it should be interesting to some and lost to others.
Old Canes, fronted by Chris Crisci of The Apple Seed Cast, is an amazing acoustic oriented Americana act that keeps its home in Lawrence, Kansas. This will be an great addition to the lineup. I know that Mr. Crisci and I share a love for Sunny Day Real Estate.
Next is Orenda Fink, wife of Todd Fink of The Faint, is an excellent folk singer armed with an arsenal of talent. Her bucolic lyrics and melodies are simply gorgeous. She could have been the Muse that possessed 27 year old James Agee to write Let Us Now Praise Famous Men.
The night ends withMiles Benjamin Anthony Robinson, a surprisingly young dude with a very strong voice and a unique approach to making pop music, which seems to be his forte. This man’s emotions may get the better of him, but as he explodes on stage, it will be a powerful unraveling.
Just two days ago on January 27th Peasant’s debut record was again released. Paper Garden Records continues to support this extraordinary artist, accommodating an ever growing fan base spurred by Damien DeRose’s touring and the music’s appearance on the television shows Kyle XY and Bones. He has also recorded live sessions for the impressive Daytrotter on-line music magazine and WOXY. Anyone who questions Mr. DeRose’s ability to translate his recorded material into a real and authentic experience is obligated to listen Peasant’s Daytrotter session. Click here. Peasant is somber, intimate, and melodic—infusing an appreciation of plain spoken poetry and honest emotional truth into music that can best be described as simply beautiful. In many ways I feel vindicated for having such faith in this guy. From the first day I saw him play at a 2007 CMJ loft show, it was clear to me that as long as people had the opportunity to hear him, they would continue to do so.
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.***
The opening act will be chosen by After the Jump and Stereofame.com, who have gotten together and devised a contest to allow an unsigned band to play first at this years festival. This slot also includes $2,000 in cash. Voting takes place on Stereofame.com and concludes on the 10th (tomorrow). While there seems to be entirely to many “and the” bands, it looks to be a fun show and it’s to raise money for struggling schools, can’t beat that right? Starts at 12:OOPM. Click on their name for their My Space or Website.
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!
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
On the Ground is a record to listen to and absorb as we exit the gray days of winter. It records Peasant’s negotiation of gloomy emotions and difficult situations. Many have compared him to Elliot Smith, and he has to some extent ratified that comparison, but rather than misery, his less self-deprecating style tastes of bitter-sweetness. Songs like The Wind and Exposure tap into the lingering darkness of unspoken fears and doubts that distract our daily lives. As we contemplate these moody thoughts, our experiences and unclear abstractions are reified by Peasant’s words.
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.
Peasant is a hard working independent artist whose organic music stands apart from the ridiculous number of singer songwriters standing in line for their songs to make it in the annals of recorded greatness, and depending on how hard Peasant pushes himself and his music, I am entirely convinced that he will make it. If not, no one can say that On the Ground wasn’t great. Peasant’s music is as sweet as a mulberry and as perfect as a rainy day. Where he goes from here, I cannot wait to see.
Upcoming Show Dates
Feb 28th @ Piano’s in New York, New York- 8PM
Feb 29th @ John n’ Peter’s in New Hope, Pennsylvania- 9PM On the Ground Release Party
Mar 1st @ The Classic Cigar Parlor in Doylestown, Pennsylvania- 8PM
Mar 7th @ Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, New York- 8PM
Mar 8th @ Emancipation Rocklamation in Moorestown, New Jersey- 10PM
Mar 10th @ Union Hall in Brooklyn, New York- 7:30PM
Mar 15th @ Lucky Lounge in Austin Texas- 12AM
May 27th @ Café Glockspee in Hanover- 8PM
May 28th @ Intersoup in Berlin Germany- 8PM
Fortunate for me, while reading my daily Streamy subscriptions, I came across an article on Peasant, a musician I saw at theIndaba Loftin Manhattan during CMJ. There, he was promoting his soon to be released debut on Paper Garden Records, an excellent album I hope to review in the coming month. Brooklyn Vegan wrote some positive things about the artist and listed his upcoming show dates. I was thrilled to learn I would be able to catch him at the Washington Square Park area café Think!. Peasant was on a five date coffee house tour that began on January 29th and ended February 3rd. The concept could not have been more appropriate for the incredibly intimate nature of Peasant’s music.
I am glad to have been one of the first in New York City to have written about Peasant’s alluring style. Seeing him at Think! was the perfect opportunity to catch up on an artist who in the autumn of 2007 had already taken great steps toward becoming one of the truly solid singer/songwriters to emerge in 2008. His set up was simple and the temperature was certainly more bearable than his show at CMJ. Wine, cheese, and all sorts of espresso beverages were bought and consumed at this sophisticated café. The venue was fitting because Peasant’s gifts are introverted, inviting the audience’s attention rather than demanding it.
Peasant has a flawless voice. He has no trouble projecting authenticity and tenderness in front of a live audience or making such skilled songwriting seem like a casual expression. Also, having a unique fashion makes for great coffee house conversation. He sports Tom’s Shoes, which are made in traditional Argentine style and are sold with the purpose of combating poverty. Peasant‘s tenor voice combined with the melodic staccato of his acoustic guitar might come off as too reserved for some, but the depth written into songs such as Exposure is astounding. This combination of talent, style, authenticity, and social anxiety reflect an undeniably prolific musician. His melodies are saddening and contemplative; thoughts resounding within the confines of café walls; melancholy settling on the minds of thinkers, poets, and poseurs alike. You should listen to him not because he is known, or because is going to be known. You should listen to him because he is rich in character and one of the strongest young songwriters to make rounds in our subways, our streets, our coffee houses, and our clubs.
Upcoming Shows
Feb 10th @ Rockwood Music New York, New York
Feb 13th @ Club Midway, Stranded In Stereo party New York, New York
Feb 16th @ Winter Music Fest @ The Fire Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Feb 17th @ Siren Records Doylestown, Pennsylvania
Feb 29th @ John n’ Peter’s New Hope, Pennsylvania
Mar 13th @ Planetary Group Dayparty SXSW Austin, Texas
May 28th @ Intersoup Berlin, Berlin
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.
The Grey Race is a Travis-esque Brit rock band that would fit right at home on America’s lucrative adult contemporary radio stations. They were so unabrasive to the point of being silly. After immediately judging their sound, I leaned in a little closer to make out what they were saying. This is what I encountered: “Surrender me to the sky…your soul will rise… high…from here…” Not the most inspirational lyrics- but perfect for adult contemporary radio. Too bad The Grey Race missed the post-”grunge” commoditization of early-nineties rock and roll. They would have made a killing with the likes of Tonic, Semisonic, and Better Than Ezra. While indie music might have a reputation for failing to be marketable and radio-friendly, The Grey Race seems determined to change such stereotypes.
4/9
Stardeath and White Dwarfs
Wow! Okay, I know most bands with substandard talent and dull artistic skills often throw crazy colored track lights and bright white retina incinerators on stage in hopes that the blinding antics will somehow mask their egregious lack of anything interesting. But what happens when this same visual carnage is accompanied by radical lead-heavy metal riffs reminiscent of Black Sabbath circa 1970? With the faint scent of War Pigs lingering in the air, this Oklahoma City quartet impresses not only with an awesome light set-up, but also with their incredible sound.
Stardeath and White Dwarfs‘ lead singer Dennis Coyne, clad in a shamrock-green jumpsuit complete with rainbow colored leg stripes, thickened his vocals with cavernous reverb, while a droney synth-organ opened every pore of every show-goer so they could fully absorb the spectacle before them. Each member of this band worked off a constant beat that culminated in an epic dirge. Watching this show was like watching a live action Rainbow Brite episode while listening to Deep Purple on acid.
Complete with drum solos, this arena rock act transformed the sparsely populated Bowery Ballroom into a coliseum. This rare hybrid of modern experimental art-rock and truly classic heavy-metal can be compared to acts like The Mars Volta, but these upstarts have something truly singular about them. The set was far too short for these heavy handed rockers.
The Stardeath’s weirdness is a bit reminiscent of something that TheFlaming Lips would conjure up. Speaking of which, I am not exactly sure what to think about Dennis Coyne’s relationship to Wayne Coyne, lead singer of the Lips. Dennis is Wayne’s little nephew. Thankfully, I wasn’t aware of this relationship before I penned my notes for the band, and I am confident that Stardeath and White Dwarfs have a future of their own, despite whatever may have fueled their initial up-rise.
7/9
Tiny Masters of Today
As brother and sister act Tiny Masters of Today began to set up their equipment (or should I say as Tiny Masters’ road crew set up their equipment), I looked around and thought to myself, “How is this show sold out? The venue is nearly empty” I had heard about this band from various music-zines. They have been praised by many highly influential music aficionados, including my own favorite obsession David Bowie who labeled them “genius”. The band lists other praises on their web site:
“These kids are heroes.”– NME
“…the coolest young band in the world right now.”– Observer Music Monthly
“…remarkable”– Newsweek Magazine
These little guys had plenty of press. My first guess as to why the venue was so empty was that people had forgotten that they had purchased tickets to the show. My later impression was that more astute people had been privy to better information than I had.
The kids came out and put their instruments on. I was afraid they were going to fall over from the weight of the guitars, especially Ada who lugged the bass as her drummer tuned it for her. They looked so nervous, but I had to give them credit. They were on stage at The Bowery Ballroom at ages 11 and 13. Ivan, the waif of a brother, looked so emaciated and malnourished that I am surprised he had the strength to lift his guitar. I would have chalked it up the harsh rock star life style, but I am pretty sure that he isn’t even out of middle school yet.
All sorts of cameras were brought out to videotape this momentous event, including a camera so large that the director who wore it needed a brace. This was obviously a big deal. In the middle of the floor, where the fans congregated, three chicks were getting a lot of attention from the director dressed in linen. They looked like sorority girls out at a club dressed for “indie” night. I also happened to notice that they had microphones and wires going up their shirts. What was this? Was this part of Tiny Masters’ act?
As the kids began their show, a lot of support came from the crowd. After all, they were just kids. The three sorority chicks danced like they were having a good time, while the camera zoomed in on them. Something struck me as odd about this show. It seemed entirely fabricated. The truth is that Tiny Masters of Today weren’t any good. The expression on their faces didn’t project apathy or angst, it was pure fear. The grown-up drummer kept looking for cues. He too looked afraid, like a parent at a recital mouthing the words with their child as they sing their solo. The guitar work was terrible. I began to understand that this in fact wasn’t a band at all. It is a project- a very adult project, exploiting these kids as a marketing tool. Who thought this shit up? I love you more than you will ever know Mr. Bowie, but what the hell were you thinking?
If this was an attempt to prove “indie” music’s mindlessness, then so be it. Every head bobbing audience member who didn’t get a bit creeped out by the whole affair was complicit. I feel kind of sorry for these kids. I hope they at least get a college trust fund out of the deal. This was the ultimate contrivance. I saw a glimmer of goodness, and I saw a sliver of their appeal, but the context in which it was displayed dismantled whatever legitimacy they might have had. Did the band know that the paid actors in the crowd completely detracted from their already suffering show?
Incidentally, on the last song I walked out of the venue to make a call. Standing there outside were the three sorority chicks receiving pointers from the director. After the motivational speech, the girls and the man dressed in linen returned inside and I followed. When I got back to the floor, the crowd had over doubled in size. The cameras were out filming again and the girls were having their good time in a much bigger crowd. I truly hope that they aren’t going to edit in 1990’s crowd to subsidize their own dearth of fans.
Blarg!
2/9
1990’s
As I mentioned above, at the end of Tiny Masters, I counted 70 people including staff. By the beginning of 1990’s that number had over doubled. The crowd was ready for a show, obviously enjoying 1990’s immensely. They were a pretty generic rock band heavily influenced by The Rolling Stones. Before I noticed that a band member sported a lips and tongue logo on his shirt, I remember thinking, “Gosh will The Stones’ far reaching claw of rockdom ever shrivel and die?” They reminded me a bit of Kings of Leon with bell bottoms. The guitar was great. I had good time listening to him whale…I mean really whale. All together their show was about as blasé as this review.
Bill McCarthy came out and surveyed his instruments, polished the guitars, and folded his sweat rag with almost OCD precision. Rather than have someone else set his gear up, McCarthy had to have control. This can be either a very good or bad characteristic in a musician. Either the songs are performed with such methodical exactitude that it comes off sounding flat and too rehearsed, or it can end up sounding great, having the perfect balance of tight musicianship and passion. Luckily for us at the show, it was the latter. When the rest of the band joined him on stage the crowd applauded with zeal. This was obviously the show people had come to see, and after suffering a couple of very sub-par acts, they were eager to watch a show with talent. Stardeath had been a worthwhile hors d’oeuvre, but now it was past time for the main course.
Pela’s opener, Waiting on the Stairs, was slightly expected and entirely perfect. Although, I kind of wish they would have played it again in the middle and then again at the end. I could hear that song indefinitely. Their live performance bumped the emotive prowess of the songs to yet another staggeringly stupid level. It wasn’t until then that I realized how many times I must have listened to Anytown Graffiti. I knew nearly every word to every song. Other highlights included Cavalry and Song Writes Itself. With these songs, Pela played every note as if they were a singular and meaningful event.
I have always been nervous to see bands that I really love because I am afraid that my expectations will exceed their product. Pela met my expectations and then some. Tomislav Zovich’s drum work was ultra tight and inoffensively crisp. Nate Martinez’s guitar forms somewhat of the backbone of Pela’s sound. It is hard to visualize from listening only to the record but Martinez, who plays his brand of rock and roll with exceptional skill, is as much responsible for Pela’s success as is McCarthy’s lyrics and vocals. It was great to watch how the music was constructed and pieced together.
I was also pleased with Pela’s overall presence. McCarthy’s appreciation for the receptive audience was genuine. Between songs, and wiping the sweat from his brow, he made sure to thank the crowd with incredible enthusiasm. McCarthy constantly smiled and looked as if he was having an amazing time. This may be the most charming thing about Pela. The band looks as if they enjoy what they do together. It was Pela’s last show of the year before they return to a studio in California to record their follow-up to Anytown Graffiti. They played what seemed like a full set and I know the crowd would have preferred that they play two more just like it. Pela must be proud of their work and I wish them the best of luck on their new record.
