Oh My God is simply one of the greatest live shows that has ever existed. I have been following these guys since about 2003, from Duffy’s Tavern to the Double Door and now to Pianos in Manhattan. It has been nearly eight years since I fist got a glimpse of the insanity that emanates from the stage – I was once fortunate enough to open for them. Anyways, I’ve told my stories about one of my all time favorite bands in prior posts (here and here), but here they are again, beginning their fall tour with us in NYC. If you know what is good for you, you’ll go to Pianos tonight a see it for yourself.
Below are a few videos from their new material. Also, visit their website oand myspace.
The Amygdaloids
Theory of My Mind
Knock Out Noise
June 15th 2010
Imaginate by the Amygdaloids
In the Fall of 2005 I walked into Union Hall in Brooklyn to catch a public lecture given by Dr. Joe LeDoux, professor at NYU’s Center for Neural Science. While I have many interests, I always fell short in the sciences, so you can imagine I was quite certain I wouldn’t understand a word of Joe’s discussion of the world of neurons, memory, fear and that little nut shaped region in the brain called the amygdala. But Dr. LeDoux’s lecture was entirely accessible and served as testament to his ability to communicate the business of neuroscience. He has written two books aimed at a general readership, offering not-so-science-savvy folks an avenue towards understanding how their brain works. So one might say that Joe has embraced his role as neuroscience’s public intellectual, ensuring that what goes on in the realm of his discipline does not become too far removed from the questions and curiosities of the people. Think Ted Talks. But LeDoux’s connection to the complex world of neuroscience is not the end of the story. After the lecture, the audience joined LeDoux and a few of his fellow scientist friends up to the first floor of Union Hall where they performed as The Amygdaloids. Right before my eyes I watched these scientists shatter every stereotype concerning the “right brain-left brain” dichotomy. But that was 2005; The Amygdaloids have come a long way since that Union Hall show, releasing their latest record in June called Theory of My Mind.
The two clearest influences that inform The Amygdaloids’ music are the distinct styles of lead guitarist Tyler Volk and LeDoux. Through Volk’s guitar flow accents and power riffs reminiscent of the Monterey Pop Festival of 1967 and the immortal Woodstock that followed two years later. He celebrates the work of Jimi Hendrix and Carlos Santana with his blues laden psychedelia. LeDoux for his part writes songs that project the giest of 60’s dream pop, his songs are products of an ethic that demands good pop be, as Jack Tatum from Wild Nothing said, “catchy but not cheap.” LeDoux is a story teller who, with regard to lyrics and music, is guided by the path set out by the likes of Bob Dylan and The Byrds. The two band members’ influences combine to make a whimsical explication of neuroscientific import embedded in the form and fashion of rock and roll. The lyrics present in Theory of My Mind all hail from the band’s public intellectual ethos. Crime of Passion is a track that explores the question of how much responsibility individuals have when they commit crimes during heightened emotional states. The narrating character of the song croons from a prison cell, recalling the reasons he committed murder and his regrets, singing, “If I could go back, I wouldn’t have killed for you. You’re not worth what I am going through.” Appropriately, to accompany this morose contemplation, Rosanne Cash (daughter of Johnny) sings backup, imbuing the track with a strong sense of sadness.
Itis clear from the various titles of the songs that theme of Theory of My Mind is brain science, with all titles in some way referring to motifs of memory, fear, and individual will. Rhythmically, Tyler Volk’s Automatic Mind is a very creative endeavor that diverges slightly from the overall cohesion of the record. This side item song has a style of its own, mixing the choral melody of 60’s pop with the grim and gothic verse of early 80’s British post-punk. The song succeeds as an unexpected amalgamation.
The CD’s title track, Theory of My Mind explores a psychological question concerning when individuals begin to impute mental states such as desires and beliefs to others, and in turn believe that other individuals impute such mental states to them. In essence, when do we feel empathy; when do we recognize the hopes and fears of others and when do we believe they know or think about ours? Often the answers to these questions have been idealized as representative of our most human emotions, but these emotions are not so easily understood. These questions have diffused over a broad field of disciplines including anthropology, primatology, philosophy, etc. Theory of My Mind is a record that explores these and many other questions. Using the language of love, regret, and all the other entries in the lexicon of rock and roll, Theory of My Mind translates the inquisitiveness of the laboratory onto the forceful expression of the stage.
Worst Case Ontario
Smallcraft
Self Released
Spring 2010
Once again Sam Weisberg and company have sucked our faces back to the summer of 1994. Worst Case Ontario and their fan base may get tired of people saying this, but it is meant in the best possible way. The epic two part guitar melodies juxtaposed with Weisberg’s gas huffing garage rock voice shuttles me back to the sidewalk out of Duffy’s Tavern to listen to the Flaming Lips sing Pilot Can At The Queer Of God. This is the stuff of geniuses; it was a time when you either sided with Pearl Jam or Nirvana; it was a time made for Little Bastard, Semisonic, Sponge, and all the other pop wrought bands that emerged mid-decade, after the descriptive “alternative” no longer referred to otherness or alterity, but rather the very essence of the mainstream. Slacker culture had won out on top. The only thing known about irony came from that damn Alanis Morissette video. This was a time for Mall Rats and Swingers; a time for being money. Tucked within those days of corduroy and flannel, were debates pitting Doolittle against Surfer Rosa, or Slanted and Enchanted against Wowee Zowee. Worst Case Ontario cannot help but evoke these memories. This isn’t the same thing as the Williamsburg music scene or the Bushwick art scene. Who had time for fine things? This band might circulate within the New York music scene, but they do not supplicate the trends of the day.
While their last record Burning Politely was noted to have had the same effect, Worst Case Ontario has made a shorter more concise EP trimming off much of the fat that weighed them down in the past. Like Burning Politely, Smallcraft is both endearing for its saturated musicality of the late 20th century, and inspiring for its display of rawness and earnestness. Particularly salient in this regard are the songs The Complainer and Starve, which encapsulate the very spirit of the band, though the other tracks on the EP are not nearly as interesting. The entirety of the Smallcraft project is displayed a marked improvement. The band has harnessed that space in the garage, that love affair we have with our slacker selves, and has added to it the slightest promise that they aim to be better, that they aim to be more. This is at no time more apparent than the 5:22 minute marker of the concluding track Capricorn every member of the band draws their instrument out full throttle, it is the very second where an otherwise bland track is given life and the band asserts themselves, that they aren’t exactly about not giving a fuck about life. Though the band does need to figure out how to find their sweet spot a little more often….the EP is so far from perfect…it doesn’t need to be perfect.
So it is almost here. The most anticipated album in a…well…a long time. As part of a promotion for their upcoming record Year of the How-To Book, Eagle Seagull is having a free online listening session as well as making I Am Sorry But I am Beginning to Hate Your Face, a most delicious song off of the new record, free for download. All you have to do is sign up for their email list. Here is the address for the offer, http://media.pias.com/eagleseagull/. Visit their Myspace as well, http://www.myspace.com/eagleseagull. For those of you who don’t know this band, it is about fucking time you get your priorities straight.
I showed up at Pete’s Candy Store with a couple friends around 10:30, having missed every single act to play that night except for Adrien Reju. I had no idea what to expect, and I preferred it that way, as my friend dragged me out of my warm apartment after all day of a pretty solid hangover and delightful deafness from the previous night’s show at Zebulon.
We sat down in Pete’s cozy venue as Adrien Reju and her band tuned and warmed up. From the first note, they exuded warmth, and their set stayed true to that feeling throughout. The band has a quiet, bluegrass sound peppered with twangy country and singer/songwriter-ness. Their look is perfectly humble. My favorite part was Jason Loughlin’s guitar, looking like it could have been found in the back of a barn under a pile of straw. Adrien herself is small, sweet, and adorable: a look which suits the music, not to mention the venue. It seemed like Pete’s small stage and the décor in it was made for Adrien and her musicians. But back to the music: the tunes are sweet and melodic, though the rare time, they come dangerously close to coffee-house banality.
With the beauty of Adrien’s voice and the ease with which she seems to sing, the vocals were rich and interesting. The voice and its innuendo drove the subtle emotions of the songs home. The real treat of the performance was the vocals. An accompanying singer, whose name I didn’t catch, produced perfect harmonies. What a beautiful noise they made.
Mostly Other People Do the Killing
Woos & Woes
our mountain
Zebulon
January 8th 2010
So I’ll keep this one short. It is long over due, and I wasn’t going write anything, but I figure why not take an opportunity to call it like it was. The title of this piece should be “Woos & Woes and our mountain Got Fucked by Mostly Other People Do the Killing,” which I’ll now refer to as “that jazz band” because I don’t have the patience to write their damn name. For those who don’t know—and who doesn’t—an opening slot for a 3 band gig is 45 minutes with 15 minutes for the break down. So let’s start there. That jazz band played for over an hour and a half and took their sweet time breaking down. To quote one exceptional jazz player, “If you can’t convince the crowd you’re good in seven songs, you won’t be able to do it in 14.” This is advice that jazz band needed to fucking take. The music was a flutter of circus acrobatics meshed with a rhythmic train wreck…and some how I think he might like such a description. At one point, during the syncopated scaled masturbation, the drummer sundered his kit and howled in the kick’s microphone, orgasming like basset hound. The band was confused…they thought we enjoyed their cheap pornography. I can’t tell you how many people looked at one another in absolute disbelief. What commitment…what style! I suppose they were releasing their new album that night.
Woos & Woes, whose recorded music by the way is pretty damn good, had a dreadful amount of mic issues. It clearly put them on edge. In fact if that is the description I’d give the night, on edge. They mostly performed well but the venue and mic set up was not suited for their delicate ambience, or their cavernous washed out vocals. Woos & Woes are an LA band that I imagine could have been, and should have been an excellent preface to the final show of the evening, our mountain. Woos & Woes played as a guy gal duo trading off instruments and vocal leads. Both members seemed stifled by the venue’s seeming lack of care for their performance.
Our mountain finally made it to the stage at 12:30, an hour and a half later than their scheduled slot. Those who stayed had likely by then spent all their money on booze and hardly had much to tip…yes a bucket was passed around. Our mountain played their usual energetic and explosive show. They debuted some new tunes, all of which were cradled comfortably within their brilliant repertoire compiled over years of refining their sound. I cannot say enough for this band, especially because they stuck to their gritty guns and gave a great performance, despite the fact that the venue hadn’t the slightest care. I can imagine there was a strong enough impulse to “say sorry guys,” to those who remained, and get the fuck out of dodge, but they didn’t. They played and played well. The venue, Zebulon, looks great, it has a Parisian feel with tons of wood and nameless beer taps. But they accidentally poured a beer down the shirt of a girl sitting at the bar and made a passive apology, failing even to play nice and offer a drink on the house. More importantly they lost control of their stage, letting a bunch of self indulgent jazz hacks suck out the oxygen from what could have been an amazing night.
Thought & Memory
Time EP
Unsigned
January 1st 2010
“Man is a wolf to man” (“lupus est homo homini” Plautus: Asinaria, 495). This quotation from Though & Memory’s myspace embodies the reflexive and philosophical frame through which their debut EP ought to be absorbed. Referencing the atrocities man inflicts on man, Thought & Memory have built and self-released an epic four song EP titled Time, a record wrought with an animistic serenity, ruptured by the thunder of collided sheet metal and the feral intensity of natural violence. Song titles like Wing by Wing, Sixty Sunsets, and What Are We Now, are the only words attached to the music. They are also indicative of the thought put into every moment of the EP. The music is both beautiful and obscure, sophisticated and primal, calming and destructive. The band sprouts from the post-rock genre, finding fraternity with the likes of Explosions in the Sky, Mogwai, or early Pelican, but the cutting juxtaposition of instrumentation on the record reveals a unique and compelling band who do not wear the tag of “knock off,” rather they have orchestrated a brilliant mélange with considerable energy, which culminates in the sixth minute, fifty-sixth second of the fourth and final track What Are We Now. The EP is short and definitely leaves the listener wanting more. Having seen a few of their live performances, I know that more will be released soon enough.
Upcoming Shows
January 23rd 8PM – Mr. Beery’s – Bethpage, NY
February 14th 1 PM – Sinclair’s Pub – West Babylon, NY
February 27th 9PM – Bartin – Babylon, NY
For those of you who don’t know, Melbourne, Australia’s Whiskey Go Go’s have moved to Brooklyn and changed their name toour mountain. This band, led by Matthew Hutchinson, plays a rare sort of dirty Americana rock ‘n roll that has the subtlety of Young and a passion pickled in the brine of booze induced love. The man cannot sit still, his legs strike the awkward pose, his best attempt at repressing the kicks and jumps, while his hands, when not furiously striking his guitar strings, are thrust into the air, an exclamation that what he sings and what he pleads is nothing short of a matter of life and death. Indeed he could be rock ‘n roll’s next great evangelist. Lucky for us our mountain will be playing Zebulon in Brooklyn Friday, January 8th and will be accompanied by Woos & Woes. For those of you who do know the band, I hear new material will be played.
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.
