Kevin and I have criss-crossed the midwest to see Blitzen Trapper.  We hoofed it to a snowy Buffalo to see them open up for Iron and Wine in Ani DiFranco's converted church (and ran over a deer carcass on the way home) and hauled our asses to Detroit to see them at the Magic Stick (stopping in Bowling Green for Pollyeyes).  Each time it's been worth the gas money and effort; dudes slay live.  In the time that we've been blogging, however, Blitzen Trapper have bypassed our fair city here on America's north coast.  Tomorrow, instead of a caffeine-fueled roadtrip, we get to see Oregon's favorite progenitors of death ballads on our home turf.  Blitzen Trapper are headlining a killer bill at the Beachland Ballroom.  We'll be there early to catch Cincinnati popsters Pomegranates and (perhaps more excitingly for me personally) our first glimpse of Cleveland up and comers Cloud Nothings (the other Dicks have caught these cats and said glowing things, but I have a kid, so lay off me).

To sum up:  you, me, Kevin, and all of your friends will be seeing a triple bill of indie goodness tomorrow at the Beachland.  First beer (per usual) is on Petkovic.

We've got a taste of what to expect below.  We're reserving judgment on the new Blitzen Trapper record until we hear it live.  I like it, but I'm ready to love it (and get it more, if you can dig) after seeing Eric Earley, Cousin Marty and the rest of the boys take it to the stage.  Judging from the tracks below (one old and one new), BT has been honing their already impressive live chops.  To say that I'm stoked is an understatement.  We've also got a Pomegranates single to chew on and (again, really exctiingly) some Cloud Nothings audio (courtesy of the always on time NYC Taper).  Enjoy and get your tukas to the Beachland on Thursday.  For non-Clevelanders and homebodies, expect a full show dissection in the coming days.

Cloud Nothings – Even If It Worked Out – Live, 2010

Pomegranates – Corriander

Blitzen Trapper – Dragon's Song – Live, 2010

Blitzen Trapper – Sleepytime in the Western World – Live, 2010

I've often alluded to the chemistry of Amber Webber and Stephen McBean vocally.  There is a decisive distance between the two and this back and forth evokes much of the band's harrowing stage presence.  The band rolled through as much of 2008's In the Future as time would allow.  The 7+ minutes of "Tyrants" and the epic jam session that "Druganaut" turned into, managed to leave the band with about 7or 8 nuggets of wailing perfection.  "Wucan" was one of my favorite tracks a few years ago, so this was a treat to see in a live setting.  McBean stomps on the pedal and sends it into overdrive halfway through.  It translated perfectly in the darkened quarters of the Beachland.  Most tracks did, and whether it was soloing, the synth-wizardry of Jeremy Schmidt, or the smoky reverb of Amber Webber, each piece was orchestrated brilliantly.  There were a lot of Clevelanders that headed to the Black Keys show down the street, but the fairly packed crowd spoke volumes about our growing scene here.  Two packed venues, two great bands.  A rowdy fan shouted, "Cleveland likes Black Mountain more than the Black Keys!"  McBean shot back with, "We'll have to tell Mr. Auerbach about that one."  In any event, scheduling bottlenecks aside, the hour and half was well worth it. By the time they slowed it down a little with "Stay Free," folks were locked in and ear drums were pulsing.

Black Mountain – Tyrants

I suppose the best way to substantiate this review is to mention that I went to this one solo.  No, peanut gallery, I do have friends, but half our crew decided to go the "other" show in town, and I think I made the right choice.  The clouds above Cleveland dissipated while I was indoors, but the sullen and retro psych sounds of this quintet were just enough to lift this Clevelander out of the muggy haze.  Enjoy our concert footage of "Evil Ways" and the killer six-minute jam session of their "Druganaut" rendition.  Fuck the Cadillac commercial.  This is how it's supposed to be done. (Concert photos below the vids – Pardon the amateur photography).

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Brooklyn's own April Smith is coming to The Bell House in Park Slope on Thursday, and your favorite Dicks would like to send one lucky reader and a friend to see her. On us. In case you missed it, April Smith and the Great Picture Show released Songs from a Sinking Ship back in November to a host of acclaim. The record is an explosion of loungy jazz-pop, and by all accounts the live translation is not to be missed.

All you have to do to enter is drop us a line via THIS FORM and tell us why we should send you to the show. We will be accepting entries through the end of the day on Tuesday 7/20, and the winner will be chosen at random and notified by Wednesday morning. Good luck!

To get you ready for the show, we have a couple of tracks from Songs from a Sinking Ship posted below for your llistening pleasure.

April Smith and the Great Picture Show – Movie Loves a Screen

April Smith and the Great Picture Show – Colors

I'm sitting here enjoying my coffee at Loop here in Tremont, and the daunting task of getting back into the swing of things at Citizen Dick involves getting up to speed with local things going on here in Cleveland.  James is busy in Brooklyn, and we're over here sorting through all the LeBron James muck for signs of life.  Luckily, starting on July 14th, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame begins their annual Summer in the City concert series.  Last year, Akron/Family zapped every last bit of oxygen out of the Cleveland lakeside air, and we're stoked to see an even heftier lineup of shows this year.

Here's the lineup:

Wednesday, July 14 – Carolina Chocolate Drops with Lighthouse and the Whaler

Wednesday, July 21 – Free Energy with Founding Fathers

Wednesday, August 11 – Deer Tick (Yeah!)  with The Modern Electric (Double Yeah!)

Wednesday, August 18 – Trans Am with Megachurch

Sign us up immediately for the Carolina Chocolate Drops and Deer Tick show.  The Modern Electric playing at The Rock Hall?  Are you kidding?

Here are a few MP3's of the bands to whet your appetite.  Stay tuned for more info as the dates near.

Free Energy – Hope Child

Carolina Chocolate Drops – Cindy Gal

Deer Tick – Dead Flowers (Rolling Stones Cover)

The Modern Electric – As Sharp As Knives

Click here to view the embedded video.

Kevin and I don't work in the summer.  Essentially, for three months, every night is Saturday night.  We'll be taking full advantage of our fortunes in that department tomorrow night, when we take in Indianapolis's We Are Hex at The Happy Dog.  We're excited to take in what appears to be a raucous, loud, engaging live act (check that video above for some credible visual evidence).  We're also pretty stoked to sample Cleveland's newest hotspot (we know that The Happy Dog has been where it is for a good long while, but the ownership shifted, the dude from Momocho got on board and they're booking a metric ton of bands now, so we're counting it as a new thing; also, I'll be going with the saffron aioli).  If you see us, the first beer is on John Petkovic.  Good times!

We Are Hex – We Are the Goer

Though the crowd was shockingly sparse, likely due to the heat and the plethora of other festivities going down in the city, the set proved to be a memorable experience. The last time I saw A.A. Bondy, back in January at Union Hall in Park Slope, the scene was a madhouse and the set itself seemed disproportianately mellow by comparison. This time around I was curious to see how his laid-back style would translate to the great outdoors, but as it turned out a lazy Sunday in the afternoon sun was an ideal backdrop. Musically the set drew almost as much on older material as it did from last year's acclaimed When The Devil's Loose, but the highlight of the day was the comically dry banter that came between songs. Between swigs of whiskey from the bottle, Bondy entertained the sweaty masses with witty quips that were either tragic or genius, depending on how seriously you were to take them. From my perspective I highly doubt that he has a German app on his iPhone (or an iPhone in the first place), and I am even less convinced that he was performing on acid. The less informed may still be wondering though.

As a special bonus, I was able to use the HD video camera on my new iPhone 4 to snag a few songs from the set to share.As far as live footage goes, the clip of "When The Devil's Loose" is pure gold. Not only does Bondy wax poetic about loving Germany and writing his own will, but he jokingly introduced the title track from his latest album by saying "this next song is by a rapper who goes by the name of Snow; it's called Informer." I'm not sure if the rest of the crowd got as big a kick out of that as I did, but it certainly made my day. Well, that and the bottle of wine that I had already finished by that point. The second video is another one of our fave tracks, "A Slow Parade." Enjoy!

**As a second special bonus, we've got a download of "Killed Myself When I Was Young" from the American Hearts record, as featured on last week's episode of Friday Night Lights.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

A.A. Bondy – Killed Myself When I Was Young

(Editor's note:  First: I don't want to talk about it.  Second: We've been to a ton of great shows over the last month or so, but haven't reported on what we've seen.  We've told you where to go and who to see, but haven't given you a ton of analysis after the fact (with the exception of Rob's stellar Sleigh Bells review).  I'm taking today to get caught up, drop my impressions of a few recent shows on you and hit you with some Citizen Dick exclusive video.  Yeah!)

Megafaun – Beachland Tavern – April 7, 2010

You know how much we love Megafaun.  They've made our year end list two years running (in 2008 for Bury the Square and in 2009 for Gather, Form, and Fly) and they put on an amazing live show.  Tack on the fact that they're super nice people and they're one of Citizen Dick's favorite bands.  Minnesota native and generalized national treasure Charlie Parr opened up with a dusty set of folk songs; Brad Cook said it was like watching an Alan Lomax field recording in 1924 or something and he was spot on.  When Phil Cook joined Parr for a few songs, things got super interesting; it was clear that Phil has deep respect for Parr and their two (or three) song pairing was pretty awesome.  When Megafaun proper took the stage, they opened with "Impressions of the Past."  The last time they were through town, they didn't play this song, one of the standouts on their most recent record.  It makes sense to not play it, quite honestly.  It's got strings and a horn section and a bunch of stuff that you can't really replicate with a trio.  But they're playing it on this tour.  Later on that night, the band talked about being accountable; if they put a song on a record, they feel like they should be able to play it live.  People want to hear them play "Impressions of the Past," so they put in the work to figure out a way to play it.  In a word (two actually), it was fucking amazing.  It's a different song live (obviously), but it keeps the soul of the original.  More importantly, it speaks to what this band is about; dudes are making music and they mean to communicate that art to the masses in the most direct fashion possible.  Megafaun aren't going to hide behind studio tricks or duck the hard stuff.  They're going to play music.  Which is pretty sweet.  The rest of the set was stellar.  "Guns" was a clear highlight; I told Kevin at the time: there are bands that can play the first half of "Guns," the quiet folk part, and there are bands that can play the second half of "Guns," the electronic freakout.  Megafaun is the only band that can play both parts.  Paired with their musical and personal integrity, that's one of the principal reasons they're special.  Megafaun is still on tour for most of June.  They are not to be missed.  As with the last time they rolled through Cleveland, I'm counting the days till they come back.

We've got "Impressions of the Past" from a recent stop in North Carolina; it will contextualize a lot of the above effusive praise.  Dudes are locked in on this take, as they were in Cleveland.  Megafaun is  also sprinkling the sets this tour with songs from their soon to be released mini-album (Phil described one of the tracks as their "Bathtub Gin," which made me giggle).  We've got sweet video from the Beachland of "Eagle," which is certain to be on my summer playilist as soon as the record hits.

Megafaun – Impressions of the Past, Live – 2010

Click here to view the embedded video.

Pearl Jam/Band of Horses – Quicken Loans Arena – May 9, 2010

I've never hidden my love for Pearl Jam.  I know it's not incredibly "cool" to be as into Pearl Jam as I am, but we've never been about keeping up appearances for the sake of our indie rock credibility.  I'd also contend that Pearl Jam is getting better with age; Backspacer is a legitimately good rock record (among others, "The Fixer," "Amongst the Waves," and "Just Breathe" are great songs.).  I'll go to my grave arguing that No Code is one of the five best records ever recorded, but Eddie and company certainly haven't been slouching on recent efforts.  All this to say that I will go to see Pearl Jam every time they come to Cleveland for the rest of my life.

Band of Horses opened up and were pretty excellent.  They sounded tinny for some reason (the arena was half empty, which might affect the acoustics?), but played a tight and concise set.  The guitar player had on a really big, really white cowboy hat, which kind of threw me off, but I certainly tapped my toe when they launched into "The Funeral."  The new record is growing on me, at least in part because of "Factory," which was better live.  As much as I enjoyed seeing Band of Horses, I'm not totally sure that they work in an arena setting.  Bully for them that they scored the opening gig, but I think they make more sense in a smaller venue.  It was also weird that Eddie didn't sit in with them.  Last time Pearl Jam was in town, Eddie sang a Band cover with My Morning Jacket, which was the bomb.

Pearl Jam opened with "Wash," which was absolutely badass.  There was like a four year stretch where they stopped playing it (although they've played it several times since the turn of the century (thanks Ten Club!)), so it was a treat to hear a song that most of us would regard as something of a live rarity.  The Pearl Jam catalog is so extensive at this point that they can give most audiences this kind of experience; you know you're going to hear the hits, but real fans (is it douchey to play the "real fans" card?) go see the band because they know they'll hear something that they've never heard before.  Pearl Jam has a crafty veteran's ability to write a really good setlist.  They're going to play "Wash" for the fanatics, but they'll still play "Even Flow" for the lames.  I understand that I have to hear the songs that they play every night, but hearing something like "Wash" or "Immortality" totally makes up for it.  (They did the same thing the last time they were in town; I didn't expect to hear "Faithfull," and it totally made my night.)

My buddy Vince really wanted to hear "Smile," which they played as an extra special request, which was cool.  I was locked in on "Hail, Hail" and the aforementioned "Immortality," both of which they played as well.  We thought they were going to close with "Alive," because they were seriously flirting with the arena's curfew.  As they were wrapping up the song that epitomizes the things that aren't awesome about seeing a band that's been around since the mid-90s (namely their need to play the hits every night), the house lights came up and we thought the show was over.  That would have kind of sucked, but they squeaked out "Indifference" with the house lights on.  That captures a Pearl Jam live show nicely; they aren't going to let the guy with the Dead Moon t-shirt go to his car humming their first single.  All told, it was a great show.  I knew it would be, but it's reassuring to be right on things like that.

I did not take any video of my own, mainly because my Quicken Loans ticket stub had scary language prohibiting any sort of recording devices.  I found this video on the Youtube however, and it does the job.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Local Natives – Beachland Tavern – May 11. 2010

Suckers opened up for Local Natives.  They're supposed to be awesome.  Six months ago, I would have been in the building for their set.  Last week I was putting my baby to sleep as they played.  Growing up is awesome (I guess).  I'm not exactly sure when Local Natives became the next big thing.  Dudes went from  (I'd argue) totally off the map to all over everyplace.  They're on late night television shows and NPR.  The stupid New York Times even beat me to the punch on the facial hair jokes; asshole "legitimate" journalists always steal my thunder on stuff like this.  (I had a whole thesis on ironic mustaches and sincere beards.  Alas.)  Happily, Local Natives are totally worth the hype.  The show was stellar, packed full of energy and enthusiasm.  I was a bit apprehensive, thinking that the often intricate arrangements and harmonies on Gorilla Manor might not translate live.  I was wrong.  Dudes bring it live.  The vocals were on point and the percussion, critical to overall ethos of the record, was, if anything, more powerful and complex on stage.  The final three songs of the set stand out in particular in my brain.  They started to wrap things up with "Airplanes," which was significantly creepier than the recorded version (on Gorilla Manor that song sounds like a passionate plea to get back together; live it reads like the suicide note of a deranged stalker).  Then, they closed with a stunningly muscular "Who Knows, Who Cares" and a houndingly intense "Sun Hands."  Local Natives aren't naive; they knew we were all shitting our pants for "Sun Hands," waiting for that exultant vocal break.  They delivered.  It was awesome.  "World News" and "Wide Eyes" were also excellent live.  We've got video of a Talking Heads cover that captures the vibe of the show really well.  And, courtesy of the sublime NYC Taper, we've got "Who Knows, Who Cares," which is gaining ground on "Sun Hands" for my favorite track on the record.  Enjoy!

Local Natives – Who Knows, Who Cares, Live – 2010

Click here to view the embedded video.

While waiting in the long line almost 2 hours before the bands started, the Grog opened up another entrance for "21 and over with a hard ticket" and apparently only about 3% of the concert goers were able to chose that option. I began to get the vibe that I was going to be enjoying this show from quite a distance.  Teens don't drink much, so they don't go to the bar, so they don't pee, hence they don't have to move. They had the stage surrounded 15 feet deep, with 90 minutes left before Sleigh Bells came on. So after I got my wristband, I went to the only place I'm aware of in Coventry that serves good old gluten free Redbridge. The Winking Lizard. By the time I got back from the bar, the Grog was packed to the back. Anyway, I'm not hating on the teens, I definitely remember those days. It was so routine to get there early, go up to the front, and wait. You had a fucking blast and wondered why people needed to drink alcohol to have a good time. Back when crowd surfing was still socially acceptable. I was supposed to meet back up with friends at the Lizard before the show, but somehow they lost track of time. I discovered their whereabouts during the break, shortly before Yeasayer was about to go on. They were hanging out back in the car. It smelled like a skunk was in there and they were giggling like schoolgirls. The skunk was either really funny or it beared a strinking resemblance to Justin Bieber.

If Clevelanders were surprised that April concluded with a sweaty 84 degree day, they shouldn't have been. Sleigh Bells were in town and they brought the noise.  After almost a minute in the dark, listening to an anxious little intro beat, they "dropped the hammer down" with the first song of the set, "Tell Em". The sold out and very attentive crowd lost their shit in one way or another. Lead singer Alexis Krauss burst all over the stage like a force to be reckoned with, entrancing the entire room with her dashing looks, full throttle force and charismatic voice. She makes fireworks seem dull and fireworks are illegal in Ohio, so that's quite a feat if you ask me.   Sleigh Bells continued to keep the audience jumping and shouting for more. They engulfed the crowd with their thumping laser beam beats and chomping minimalist guitar riffs, while smashing through several songs off their upcoming album Treats. There was some question regarding how they would translate live and they pulled it off, sometimes sounding much better than their previous recordings. They delivered on a storm of hot tracks and high energy. Except for one moment.  When Alexis gave a shout out to Pittsburgh at the beginning of "Kids". WTF. We're really looking forward to Pitchfork and they're still one of the reasons why. If you get a chance, go see them, you won't be disappointed. Unless Alexis gives a shout out to Ann Arbor.

Below is the new track they opened the show with. Below that is a video from the first song of Yeasayer's set, featuring Chris Keating lip syncing over a rare recording from Optimus Prime's spoken word poetry kick, and brought to you by Cleveland's own kingofthecastle7. That dude doesn't mess around, after holding his arm up for 3 hours a night, I'm pretty sure he could decapitate you with his closeline. Enjoy!!

Sleigh Bells – Tell Em

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Cloud Nothings – Hey Cool Kid (Memoryhouse Remix)

(Editor's note:  That's a picture of the directions on the inside of my Baby Bjorn front carrier (you know it from that movie about blacking out).  Why the hell is the parent in the picture wearing a helmet?  I don't wear a helmet when I strap my kid to my chest.  Am I putting us both at risk?  I have no idea.  Your thoughts on this issue are welcome.)

Um.  We've been busy.  We still love you internets, we're just in one of those periods where our non-internet based lives are getting in the way of out internet lives.  I'll not continue to bore you with my own (no doubt) boring-as-hell details.  Instead, I'll tell you that you need to get your ass out of your house this week, as there are (at least) two can't miss shows in Cleveland in the next two days.  (I label them can't miss, but I'm only guaranteed to be at one of them.  I am a total loser at this point.  (sigh)).  So!  Slip into your fancy jeans!  Splash yourself with aftershave!  Load your pockets with gum and/or nicotine!  Strike out into the world and sample some live music!  Details follow!

Tuesday, April 6 – Japandriods/Avi Buffalo – Grog Shop

Kevin loves the stripped down grit of Japandroids.  I love the dreamy spaciness of Avi Buffalo.  Both are sure to be stellar live.  This is the show that I am probably going to miss.  Kevin will almost certainly be front and center, however.  Buy him a beer.  Rub his belly.

Avi Buffalo – What's It In For?

Japandroids – Darkness on the Edge of Gastown

Wednesday, April 7 – Megafaun/Charlie Parr – Beachland

Megafaun.  You know how excited we are; I'm ninety percent certain that I don't have to keep beating this point into your head: MEGAFUAN IS AMAZING LIVE.  Expect a full report on this thing later this week.  Even better: do yourself a favor and experience the glory of Megafaunapalooza yourself.  For this one, buy me a beer.  Rub my belly.

Charlie Parr – Jubilee

Megafaun – The Fade

A last second booking in Cleveland could either result in disaster or an unexpected pleasant visit, and this entirely depends on, I believe, the fickle hand of higher powers.  The veracity of my statement is pretty clear to those that live around here.  Snow drags on for months and it’s right about mid-February that things get the most desolate on the southern point of Lake Erie.  Folks tend to stay inside, warmed by the hearth and introspection that only a cold day can bring.  To get back on track, if you’re a band attempting to land a gig last minute, it won’t be entirely difficult.  There are some Cleveland institutions that are amazing venues to play; of course, if nobody shows up to the show, you’re pretty much shit out of luck.

Sometimes, my great city suprises me, and despite what the fine folks at Forbes said about us, I think our scenesters can hang with just about anyone.  Philly quartet, Drink Up Buttercup, experienced this on a one-night unexpected quick stop in Cleveland this weekend. A sparsely attended last-minute show dredged up pure magic as the band absolutely rocked the hell out of The Grog Shop into the wee hours of the morning.

The Grog Shop had a full bill this evening, but that doesn’t mean that anything was of high quality.  Earlier in the week, Drink Up Buttercup had contacted me via Twitter about hooking up a gig in Cleveland en route to their Toledo show on Saturday.  This last minute matchup with The Grog was slightly interesting.  Most of the acts booked this night weren’t the normal fare for the venerable venue and when the band rolled in adorned in full hipster style and armed with aluminum garbage cans, doll wigs, and more professional gear, they looked completely out of place (or right on the money depending on which fan you were).  Most of the fans at the show weren’t normal denizens of the trendy Coventry concert hall, but this made the end result all the more enthralling.  Most were wasted by the time I got there for the late show, and the honky-tonk rockabilly act that played just before got the audience liquored and primed for just about anything.

To rewind a bit, I should mention how amazingly talented Drink Up Buttercup is.  Their debut album, Born and Thrown on a Hook (due out on March 23rd) has been a mainstay for me since it was advanced to Citizen Dick.  A near psychedelic form of nostalgia rips through each insanely catchy track, and you’d be a silly person not to dig deeper into this Philadelphia foursome.  To top it all off, they’re incredibly nice dudes, as well.  The band slid through the nasty snowstorm to reach Cleveland early and hung out for a bit at my house.  One conversation makes something clear:  These guys know they’re good, and they have an incredibly high wealth of music knowledge.  We spoke at length about emerging music trends and these guys know their juice.  This is all important to realize, because when you translate this album into a live setting, even the most hardened and unknowledgeable music fan will easily fall into Drink Up Buttercup’s claws. To put it short, this album is on my early list of killer 2010 albums and the live show only cements this opinion.

The band puts wild energy into their live performance, and as the band dove into “Gods and Gentlemen,” the audience took notice.   The high octane and left of center psycho-tripping hookfest of sound erupts in a live setting, leaving listeners feeling nostalgic, but in a completely refreshing way.  There’s enough style and uniqueness to keep the throwback vocal delivery  of a bygone era completely new.  There’s additionally a raw and loose vibe that comes forward, as well.  “Young Ladies” is a rolling carnival-like track that needs to be heard live.  This track brought the tentative audience closer to the band.  Each song played received a louder response than the first, and anyone in attendance knew they were listening to talent.  The frenzied stage presence is worth noting and an infectious energy makes this troop amazing performers.  They jump around like jackrabbits on stage and never miss a single note or rhythm.  Drummers walk around on their kits, garbage cans get pounded, and the melodica sings to the rafters.  One completely hammered newly found fan devil-horned the band at the end exclaiming, “Dude, you’re like The Beatles on Mescaline, Man!”  We cut that guy off, stat. The band has mentioned in interviews that they attempt different things in a live show than on their recorded material.  If anything, after the initially quiet audience hooted and hollered each song, it’s apparent that they are successful.  Folks paid 5 bucks for the show, but got way more in return.

The highlight of the night was the encore of “Lovers Play Dead,” where the band members walked off the stage and into the small audience, banging a bass drum, crashing cymbals on the concrete floor, and getting 20 wasted folks engaged in a heartwarming singalong.  It’s times like these that the lucky few get to catch these kinds of excellent musicians that quietly tour our country.  You’re not going to get this kind of thing at an arena show.  The infusion of surreal pop and frenetic and in-your-face energy could only be encapsulated with a free-for-all singalong at the concert’s close.  What began as a pit-stop with zero expectations formed into a magical night of music.  As I left the venue, I became slightly arrogant.  I knew these guys were for real, and it felt good helping bring them into Cleveland to play a show.  Although nobody at The Grog Friday will probably read these words, it was a treat, wasn’t it?

Snag two of their MP3′s from the album that’s released this week.  You’re doing yourself a huge favor picking up this album.  Additionally, (after the MP3′s) enjoy the video for “Heavy Hand.”  It does a pretty good job of representing the precise melodies and energetic chaos the band brings to the table.  And if you’re within 200 miles of anywhere they’re playing, they certainly won’t let you down.

Drink Up Buttercup – Young Ladies

Drink Up Buttercup – Seasickness Pills

Click here to view the embedded video.

Whoever said there are no second acts in America apparently never met Owen Pallett. The versatile artist who once performed under the moniker Final Fantasy has not only survived since shedding the JRPG-inspired name, he has positively thrived between touring with The Mountain Goats, lending a hand on recent releases by Gentleman Reg and Gigi, and continuing to burnish his credentials as the reigning indie rock orchestral composer and, thanks to Wayne Coyne’s love for the sound of his own voice, a twitterific advocate for social justice, pitchfork-style. Add to this the fact that his latest record (also the first to be released under his new eponymous approach) has been garnering wholly merited oohs and ahhs from the bloggerati and you have a pretty strung hunch that the decade we’ve all just entered is going to be a good one for the Toronto-based violinist.

That record, Heartland, is a doozy, a concept album in the finest way that deserves dialogical communion with Van Occupanther and last year’s Edward Sharpe album (and, hopefully, foreshadows equally excellent conceptual efforts by The Besnard Lakes and Titus Andronicus later this year). Pallett shows off both his skills as an arranger and his affection for well-executed theatrical camp on Heartland, scoring his other-worldly tale of a young, ultra-violent farmer named Lewis and a supreme deity named Owen in a manner that recalls Andrew Lloyd Webber as much as it does Arcade Fire.

Once you know the initial premise, the album proceeds in a narrative way that manages poetry without being cryptic. Early into the album, a careful listener becomes aware of Pallett’s clever awareness, as he notes in the album opener “Midnight Directives” that men can be bought and sold and that “the price of a hundred thousand unwatered souls/ is a bit of meat and a bit of coal”  and when, on “Keep the Dog Quiet” he describes a union as a “cage about a cage about a cage” and  a remove as  “a narrative mess.” Later in the record, Pallett links a “concatenation” of locusts with farmers losing their focus, and never slicks a step. At other moments, the lyrics are incredibly visual, to the point that “Red Sun No. 5″ has the listener wishing for an accompanying coffee-table photo book  or well-illustrated graphic novel, while “Mt. Alpentine” and “Flare Gun” deserve the kind of map Tolkein enthusiasts get so much joy from.

While one couldn’t say Pallett exactly dabbles in brevity, his arrangements are efficient, avoiding sonic detours and sidesteps, instead getting the most out of every second. Bursts of intensity like “Mount Alpentine” cram an incredible amount of drama into its small frame, and when Pallett does stretch out a little, it comes perfectly, as on the youthfully Sousan “Lewis Takes Action,” which contrasts starkly with the medieval Kubrickosity of the narrative and, particulary, the incipient Ronettes back-beat that introduces the song. Such contrast is rife throughout Heartland, particularly on the album’s next track, “The Great Elsewhere,” which combines a jagged and technological desolation with a sea-based religious reverie.

Click here to view the embedded video.

While at times the narrative of a different world in a different era slips – see, for example, references to Earth-bound phenomena such as Disney, ketamine, and Bulgaria – Heartland features enough great songs to forgive a little continuity glitches. Among these stand-outs are, in addition to the aforementioned “Lewis Takes Action,” are the impassioned and perfectly titled “Oh Heartland, Up Yours!” and the upbeat swirl of “Lewis Takes Off His Shirt.” Elsewhere, modern western influences make their mark – from the Warner Bros vibe of “Flare Gun” and the Phantom of the Opera meets The Chronicles of Narnia and “Cats in the Cradle” geist of “E is for Estranged” – providing a welcome aesthetic hook on which to hang your listening references.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Heartland, Owen Pallett’s third full-length, was released January 18th via Domino Records. You can purchase it here.

Owen Pallett – Lewis Takes Action

]]> http://citizendick.org/2010/01/28/owen-pallett-heartland-album-review/feed/ 1 http://citizendick.org/2010/01/26/retribution-gospel-choir-live-at-the-grog-shopalbum-review/ http://citizendick.org/2010/01/26/retribution-gospel-choir-live-at-the-grog-shopalbum-review/#comments Tue, 26 Jan 2010 13:01:17 +0000 brian http://citizendick.org/?p=7885

Live music is important.  Records are great (obviously) because they allow for the mass distribution of art.  But.  There’s no perfect substitute for a really good live show.  At their best, records are (often) just pale imitations of live music.  There are artists who subvert that notion and are still wildly successful (Grizzly Bear comes to mind.  They’re not known as a crack live act, perhaps because of the high level of production and attention to fine detail the records.), but I most often gravitate to bands that shine in both forums.  Give me a band that works the interplay of live and recorded music and songs that can exist as both recorded artifacts and as live organisms .  Megafaun’s “Columns” sounds killer on the album, but it’s at least 20% better live.  You could live with only hearing the album version of MMJ’s “Run Thru,” but you’d prefer the live version of it every single time.  “Dark Star” was originally a two minute single, but that’s largely irrelevant right?  When we were compiling our 2009 year end list, I found myself consistently gravitating towards acts that both made records I loved and backed those records up with excellent live shows.  Those kinds of bands make the most sense for me.

All this to introduce the second album and recent live show from Retribution Gospel Choir.  The trio, fronted by Alan Spearhawk of Low fame, release their sophmore effort, 2, January 26 on Sub Pop.  They’re also touring and were in Cleveland on Friday.  The songs on 2 vacillate between an airy, traditional rock vibe (most notably on “Hide it Away” and “Workin’ Hard,” both of which almost sound like Kansas b-sides (which is intended as a compliment)) and much hairier, distortion-laden crunchy jams (most notably, “Poor Man’s Daughter” and “Electric Guitar”).  Listening through the record, I incorrectly focused on the “Workin’ Hard” facet; I thought I’d be seeing a band that was toeing the mainstream, working in mostly traditional idioms.  I should have been listening to the epic “Poor Man’s Daughter,” which, if the live show is accurate, is more indicative of what Retribution Gospel Choir is about.  I did not really understand the record until I saw the band live; I couldn’t decide what components were critical and which were decorative.  I though that the feedback workouts were the supporting concepts, serving to highlight the hooks.  The live show was an inversion of that calculation; the songs served as platforms for the band to explode outward from.

Discussion of the live show, and the record itself, can center on the four songs mentioned above.  Retribution Gospel Choir played the more direct songs, “Hide it Away” and “Workin’ Hard” and fleshed out the sound extant on 2.  The backing vocal work of drummer Eric Pollard was particularly striking live, acting as a perfect counterpoint to Spearhawk’s more visceral growl.  Both songs sounded great live, at least in part because all three members of the band are immensely talented.  When Spearhawk solos, you pay attention.  Pollard’s work on the kit was muscular and precise and Steve Garrington both plays a mean bass and has a killer bass face.  Throw that sort of talent at what are, essentially, good radio songs and things work out.  The show’s highlights, however, were on the songs that are rougher around the edges; my mom would love “Workin’ Hard,” she might chafe a bit at “Electric Guitar.”  (For the record, that’s not intended pejoratively, just to highlight that Retribution Gospel Choir can work the catchy end of the spectrum as well as the experimental one.)  The centerpiece of the record and the show is “Poor Man’s Daughter.”  Live, this thing is a psychedelic monster, the band stretching out during the middle section and laying waste to everything in sight.  Spearhawk played a facemelting solo, hammering out huge, distorted riffs and playing for an extended period with his mouth.  (I’ve seen that work exactly one other time in my life.  Most of the time when a guitar player goes for the mouth play, it comes off as cheesy and/or contrived.  Alan Spearhawk, on the other hand, played his ax with his mouth as naturally and competently as most of us tie our shoes.  It was sweet.  The other time I saw it work was when Cleveland’s own Glen Schwartz did it, so Spearhawk is in select company.)  The same solo is impressive on the record, but live it’s life altering.  Rob and I were transfixed; if I didn’t have unalterable other plans, I would have gone to Pittsburgh on Saturday, hoping to see the solo from “Poor Man’s Daughter” again.  At the end of the song, everything drops out, leaving Spearhawk and Pollard harmonizing over the last few lines in front of a spare guitar part.  On the record, it’s startling.  Live, with the band dripping in sweat, the audience swaying in stunned amazement and everyone’s ears humming, that shift into the quiet was goosebump raising.  “Electric Guitar” was as good; for a moment, Rob and I thought we heard the beginning of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” but it never materialized.  That’s the first time that wasn’t dissapointed that a band didn’t cover Floyd.  (That’s tortured syntax, but you probably got the message.)

The band closed with “Take Your Time” from their first record.  Rob grabbed video, which should convince you to catch Retribution Gospel Choir if you’re not already sold.  The record, 2, is a solid substitute if the band isn’t coming close to your house.  If they’re in the neighborhood, make the trip.  The live show makes the record better and vice versa.  I’ll be listening to “Poor Man’s Daughter” a lot over the next several months; show or no show, you will be as well.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Retribution Gospel Choir – Hide it Away

Brooklyn quartet Bear in Heaven’s 2009 LP, Beast Rest Forth Mouth wound up as one of our Best Albums of 2009, and as the band tours around the US, armed with even more European/US touring on tap, the Hometapes label act is primed for the stars.  The inclusion of the record on Pitchfork’s top 50 album releases of 2009 doesn’t surprise us a bit.  The huge and sprawling album has drawn high critical nods from all the right places.  Nonetheless, the quietly advertised stop at Case Western Reserve’s student-only concert venue, “The Spot,” was a must see for us at Citizen Dick.  Jon Philpot and crew, importantly, are nice dudes, and putting the entire package together (i.e. recorded material, live show, and introductions) exhibits a mature band that is facing the limelight with vigor and grace.  The largeness of the band’s sound translates perfectly live, and perhaps, requires an audience and stage.  For the, maybe, one hundred students that attended Wednesday night’s show, a fully loaded and sonically limber Bear in Heaven both stole the show from headliners, Freelance Whales, and offered solidified proof of why they’re one of the more underrated artists coming from the Brooklyn independent label assault right now.

Citizen Dick writer Rob and I took this one in, and although we’re not Case Western students, we were able to sneak onto the list and hit the venue early.  Eerily reminiscent of Dazed and Confused’s The Emporium, “The Spot” is a pretty sweet student hangout located in the basement of Leutner hall at Case Western, complete with a snarky little bar, pool tables, and pub style college table and chair set ups.  Case houses some of America’s best and brightest students, so it came to no surprise that our early entrance was met with a few stares as students sat with laptops and completed homework while both bands soundchecked and set up the stage. Even as Bear in Heaven began their opening set, it felt like a middle school party, as the students were reluctant to hop up and close in on the stage.  Rob and I are a little more seasoned, and we stood up in front of everyone as the band began playing.

One of the distinct markers of Bear in Heaven is its brilliant and pummeling percussion, and when put into a live setting, this leaps outward. Drummer Joe Stickney never stops moving, whether it’s the near tribal pounding bass drum booms of “Beast in Peace” or the cymbal heavy crashing of “You Do You,” the percussion is what glues the sound together.  Stickney lined up to the left of the stage due to the Freelance Whales setup behind, but this move was excellent for showcasing all of the members’ talents.  Jon Philpot sets up with more wires and gadgets than just about any band I’ve seen.  Rolling loops and pre-recorded flourishes splash through each song, and Philpot is the engineer, hitting switches and keys as the largeness of the songs borderline overwhelm the audience.  In post-show discussions with Philpot, we chatted about the expansive nature of BIH’s sound and how the tracks need room to breath, which didn’t make “The Spot” the most ideal setup for the sound.  The electronic underpinnings of the songs absolutely require a larger setting, lasers and arena filling light arrangements.  Of course, the lack of these things didn’t stop folks from shaking their asses and getting lost in the fuzzy and progressive sounds unleashed on them at the show.

The band rolled through most of BRFM with swagger.  Fans eventually inched forward to the stage and let the sound saturate them.  At the third song, guitarist Adam Wills went into the fuzzy, siren-like riff of “Ultimate Satisfaction,” and any rust was washed away for the remainder of the show.  In each review I’ve written, I’ve alluded to how much I love this song, and hearing it live plunges it back into my heavy play rotation.  The crowd favorite, “Lovesick Teenagers” was played once early, and then the band aptly ended with “Casual Goodbye” which launches into the previous track’s flighty and soaring chorus at its close.  This was oddly relevant, considering most of the Case students probably fit the description.  I’ve also mentioned the album as one that listeners MUST listen to in its entirety.  Tracks begin one way and often progress into eye-popping and chill-inducing grandiosity.  Move this into a face-to-face meeting, and those tracks are downright enormous.  Particularly speaking, “Dust Cloud” slowly builds into a chanting, vocal-morphed slow rhythm blitz at the close.  Hearing this live was the cherry on top for the evening.  Cymbals crashed and most of the fans in attendance seemed to look around and collectively breath out a “woah” in unison.  I suppose that’s what draws me to the band’s sound the most.  A breathtaking mixture of electronic and rock sounds take listeners into a spaceship of balanced chaos.  If you’re unhip on BIH, check out their website by clicking HERE, and try to catch their upcoming tour with indie darlings, Cymbals Eat Guitars, as the year moves onward.  In our opinion, the list of must-see shows this year is long, but we’ve got a repeat visit in high ranking.  Do yourself the favor and, if Bear in Heaven is within 200 miles, make the drive and grab a seat close to the stage.  Earplugs are for wimps, might I add. Check out the dates below as they embark on the tour with CEG.  Also, enjoy both “Lovesick Teenagers” and “Wholehearted Mess.”

Bear In Heaven’s Upcoming Dates (With Cymbals Eat Guitars)

Mar 05 Johnny Brenda’s – Johnny Brenda’s Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Mar 06 Rock And Roll Hotel – Rock and Roll Hotel Washington, Washington DC
Mar 07 Local 506 – Local 506 Chapel Hill, North Carolina
Mar 09 The End – The End Nashville, Tennessee
Mar 10 Pilot Light – Pilot Light Knoxville, Tennessee
Mar 11 Earl – The Earl East Atlanta, Georgia
Mar 13 Will’s Pub – Will’s Pub Orlando, Florida
Mar 16 Mango’s – Mango’s Houston, Texas
Mar 22 The Rhythm Room – Rhythm Room Phoenix, Arizona
Mar 23 Casbah San Diego – Casbah San Diego, California
Mar 24 Echo – The Echo Los Angeles, California
Mar 25 Bottom Of The Hill – Bottom of The Hill San Francisco, California
Mar 27 Berbati’s Pan – Berbati’s Pan Portland, Oregon
Mar 29 The Biltmore Cabaret – The Biltmore Cabaret Vancouver, British Columbia
Mar 31 Kilby Court – Kilby Court Salt Lake City, Utah
Apr 01 Hi Dive – Hi Dive Denver, Colorado
Apr 02 Replay Lounge – Replay Lounge Lawrence, Kansas
Apr 03 Turf Club – Turf Club Saint Paul, Minnesota
Apr 04 Schubas Tavern – Schubes Chicago, Illinois
Apr 06 El Mocambo – El Mocambo Toronto, Ontario
Apr 07 Il Motore – Il Motore Montreal, Quebec
Apr 08 Middle East Downstairs – Middle East Downstairs Cambridge, Massachusetts
Apr 09 Music Hall Of Williamsburg – Music Hall of Williamsburg Brooklyn, New York

Follow Bear In Heaven on Twitter by clicking HERE

Bear In Heaven – Official Site

Bear In Heaven – Lovesick Teenagers

Bear In Heaven – Wholehearted Mess

]]> http://citizendick.org/2010/01/18/bear-in-heaven-the-spot-cwru-live-review/feed/ 0 http://citizendick.org/2009/12/31/rusted-root-house-of-blues-january-30/ http://citizendick.org/2009/12/31/rusted-root-house-of-blues-january-30/#comments Thu, 31 Dec 2009 17:33:02 +0000 brian http://citizendick.org/?p=7489

Mrs. Citizen and I braved the suddenly fierce Cleveland winter last night, trudging to The House of Blues to see Rusted Root.  As I’ve written here before, Mrs. Citizen and I have a strong emotional connection to Pittsburgh’s finest neo-hippies, so we were well-primed for a killer set.  We weren’t disappointed.  It’s been seventeen years since Cruel Sun came out (and it still gets consistent spins from me) and Michael Glabicki still has an astounding set of pipes.  He does the emphatically joyous nonsense syllable and ecstatic tribal ululation as well as anybody. (Is there anybody else that does a lot of ululating at all?)  The songs, as always, are grounded in thudding, vaguely tribal percussion, subtly show-offy guitar work and Glabicki’s vocal ability.  Tack on the dude’s strong stage presence and it’s a great live show.

I did not take extensive notes on the setlist, but I can vouch for the presence of old-school favorites.  I know that we heard about ninety percent of When I Woke, including “Martyr,” “Laugh as the Sun,” “Lost in a Crowd,” and the ubiquitous “Send Me On My Way.”  (Extended aside: There’s a part of me that is really bummed out that the largest cheer of the evening came for the band’s radio song.  We saw the Violent Femmes a couple of times in the late nineties and I got the same feeling when they played “Blister in the Sun.”  Both acts have an impressive catalog, which you have to assume the audience is at least passingly familiar with.  The House of Blues was packed last night and the ticket price was a bit steep; folks probably weren’t out to hear one song.  This wasn’t Modern English for ten bucks on a Tuesday.  “Send Me On My Way” probably doesn’t crack the top ten for me, yet it remains the song that people want to hear.  I wonder if that’s as depressing for the band as it is for me.  Does it suck to have people love you the most for a song that you recorded thirteen years ago and have probably played a thousand times live?  The new material, while good, didn’t get nearly the reception that “Send Me On My Way” did.  Does that mean anything?  If they had opted out of playing “Send Me On My Way,” there would have been a riot right?  “Tree” is a thousand times better as a song, but they haven’t played it live since 2001.  It was not a radio song.  They didn’t play it last night, and I was okay with that, but I wonder if they’re okay with that.  If you’re in Rusted Root and you have an answer to this question, please hit the comments.)  The band also blended in several songs from the recently released Stereo Rodeo; the show opened with the first song on the album, “Dance in the Middle,” which translated really well live.  Rusted Root closed the encore with “Ecstasy,” which sent the crowd home pleased.  Overall, it was a nice blend of the old and the new.  The band has a few scattered dates in January, which are well worth the trip.  For Mrs. Citizen and me, it was a show that threw us back to being seventeen, which is pretty sweet.  I imagine that Rusted Root has that sort of time travel power for a lot of folks.

I did not take any audio last night, mostly because I was fearful of the apparently Draconian House of Blues.  (We had to sign a lengthy disclaimer to take photographs and it seemed to me that audio capturing would not be kosher, even though Rusted Root is into taping.  I think I also signed away my right to be critical of the venue as well.  Leave it at this:  I may or may not find Cleveland’s House of Blues to be distastefully corporate and contrived; I may or may not have paid four dollars for a sixteen ounce PBR and I may or may not hate taking a piss at a rock show and smelling potpourri and seeing a restroom attendant.)  I do have a version of “Martyr” from a recent gig in Florida that sounds a lot like the one I heard last night.

Rusted Root – Martyr – Live, 2009

My buddy Vin and I arrived at the show just in time to see Whiskey Daredevils, a local band with a lot of buzz. They started off their set by saying “Thanks for coming out on Wednesday night, we know you could be at home watching Modern Family.” That’s true, it’s a good show, which stars Ohio native Ed O’Neill, but thankfully there’s always Hulu. Whiskey Daredevils often play around the area, but for some reason I have not seen them before. We both heard a lot of positive hype and were pretty excited to finally get to see them. I didn’t get a set list but I’m pretty sure the bulk of their songs came from Whiskey Daredevils Greatest Hits, although it could’ve been The Very Best of the Whiskey Daredevils. Either way, they did not disappoint in the least and were the perfect mood setter for the evening.

We didn’t really know what to expect from Heavy Trash. We knew it was Jon Spencer and Matt Verta-Ray’s band, we didn’t know Sam Baker (drums) and Simon Chardiet (double bass) would be the accompaniment. In all honesty, although aware of it, I wasn’t extremely familiar with Spencer’s work. Despite that, after receiving the new Heavy Trash album about a week before the show, I was instantly hooked. At this point I’d say I’m a big Heavy Trash fan. The album has been playing almost non-stop on my iPod.  It’s a mix of several genres that I enjoy; blues, rock ‘n roll, punk and a bit of honky tonk. If you asked me to describe the album in two words, well that would be easy. Downright fun! If Elvis was around today, this might be what he would sound like. Jon Spencer does a great job updating and infusing one of the early voices of rock while keeping it fresh at the same time.

The show ended up being in the more intimate Beachland Tavern, as opposed to the Ballroom. I don’t think any of the people in attendance were complaining about that. The band we came to see went on a little before 11:00 and kicked things off with a bang. Heavy Trash got people moving, you don’t see that much in Cleveland on a weekday. They blazed through a few songs at a time, that definitely kept the energy at full blast. After about three or four songs they would pause for a quick chat break. Then fire things up again for the next fifteen minutes. They played everything I wanted to hear from the new album like “Good Man” (Those Darlins sing backup on the record), “Bumble Bee “(Jon Spencer definitely has a future in voice-overs if he finds the time), “(Sometimes You Got To Be) Gentle”, and  “In My Heart”. Matt Verta-Ray was kicking out some serious jams on his guitar all night.  When he was tearing it up, it truly amplified the upbeat style of Spencer. I especially enjoyed the Simon Chardiet song “Bug Bite Daddy”, which was sung by Simon (dude is a bit of a legend), the tune was bad-ass. I felt like I should’ve been swing dancing. The music translated really well live and I don’t think I saw any dialogue between the band and the sound guy (sometimes it can really jam the mood when the act has sound issues all night). They played about 15 songs and next thing you knew it was 12:30. I wondered where the time had gone, feeling like I had been abducted by aliens. I didn’t take any quality pics or get a  solid video, but the one below is the super extended live version of “In My Heart” from Chicago a few days after the show we saw. They’re still on tour so go see them if you get a chance and check out their new LP Midnight Soul Serenade.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Heavy Trash – Gee, I Really Love You

Before I dive into my impressions on Tuesday’s killer Medeski, Martin & Wood show, I thought it might be appropriate to talk about the spirit embodied by the band.  It goes without saying that the show was amazing. (They’re one of the four or five tightest live acts in the world, irrespective of genre; you know they’re going to be good.)  I’ll hit some of the things that struck me singularly at the tail end.  MMW are so captivating live, however, that they turn your brain to bigger things, broader ideas, spacier conclusions.

Here’s the deal:

Medeski, Martin & Wood, when seen live, offer a model for a perfect society.  If everyone conducted themselves according to the same values implicit in MMW’s performances, we would live in a utopia of milk and honey (honest).  The following things are absolutely true, embodied in an MMW performance and, if adhered to universally, would make the world a better place:

1. Merit should be rewarded. Each member of the band is incredibly skilled.  All three are at the absolute top of their musical game.  John Medeski murders the keys; there isn’t an approach he can’t take, an angle he can’t exploit, a sound he can’t produce.  Chris Wood is as solid as it gets on the bass; the solos are mind-altering (more on that later) and the work outside the solos is laced with subtlety and nuance (and funkiness).  Billy Martin makes more sound out of a small drum kit and an assortment of percussion ephemera than anyone on the planet (more on that later as well).  All told, dudes have a ton of merit.  Best part:  they are rewarded for it in a number of ways.  People come to the shows (The Kent Stage was packed on Tuesday) and soak in the brilliance.  More importantly (maybe), it’s clear that the music they pour out and the construction thereof is deeply satisfying to the band themselves.  So.  They’re really good at their craft, other people acknowledge that and they revel in their own talent; mirror that concept nationally (or globally) and way more folks are smiling at the end of a workday.

2. Open and honest communication is critical. Medeski, Martin & Wood are locked in on stage.  Their level of communication appears to approach telepathy.  They’re constantly checking in with each other visually and (presumably) through the music, sorting out where and when the next thing is going to happen.  At least half of the fun of seeing them live is trying to pick up on the messages they’re sending one another.  The shows sound so pristine because they work together to determine where they’re going next.  Imagine if all of your co-workers and your friends and your spouse (and so on) checked in with you consistently to ensure that everyone was on the same boat.  That’d be sweet, right?

3. Everyone (assuming merit) deserves a moment to shine; or, egalitarianism is good. This is a jazz idiom. but it is still both awesome and something that would ensure a more positive world.  Everybody in MMW gets a turn to shine.  They’re all good at what they do, so each member gets some space to stretch out, explore the territory, prove their worth.  Sharing is caring.

4. Things that aren’t the thing should be ignored. You ever see a member of a band (usually the lead singer) that thinks he (or she, no gender bias here) is interesting outside of the music?  If I want to know about African debt relief, for instance, I’ll ask an economist, not Bono.  I want Eddie Vedder to sing me songs, not tell me about his dreams.  (Sorry, Eddie.  But seriously, talk less, sing more.  Everybody wins that way.)  Medeski, Martin & Wood come onstage and play music.  No banter, no agenda, no life story.  Just a few hours of really well executed music.  The thing is the music, which is all MMW does.  At the end of each set, Martin introduces everyone and says thank you.  The rest is pure sound.  If we all only paid attention to the thing and disgregarded the periphery, we’d be in fine fettle.

So, get it together world.  Act like this jazz band and there will be world peace, universal harmony and, in short, all good things.

To close, there are three things that I will remember for a long time about Tuesday’s show:

1. Billy Martin’s drum solos – The show opened with Martin playing a Brazilian pandero (it’s a fancy tambourine; I only know the word because he used it in our recent interview).  He is making more sounds come out of this thing than you’d believe possible.  It is an orchestral percussion section in his hands.  That was a good start.  He’s also got a table of stuff behind him (bells, shakers, cowbells…) that he dips into on occasion to spice up the proceedings.  During one solo, he turned to his right, continued to play his kit with his left hand and played the stuff on the table with his right.  In an alternate reality, where your eye isn’t drawn to Wood and Medeski, you’d stare at Billy Martin playing the drums for the entire set.  (If this sounds like gushing, it is.  I am unapologetic about this.  Dude is a genius.)

2. Chris Wood playing the bass – Wood did the thing where he plays the upright bass like a drum.  This is another spectacle that is impossible to look away from.  He starts a bass solo, pulling the strings obscenely hard and fast, reaching down to hit the tiny strings on the bottom (I have no clue what these are called or even how to describe their location more clearly; they’re the part of the strings that extend past the thing that juts out to keep the strings off the wood.  There’s a word for this, I’m sure.  Anybody?) and then, out of nowhere he starts hammering on the bass with his fists and knuckles and fingers.  He’s a lanky cat, so the visual poetry squeezing all of these sounds out one instrument is a big part of the display.  When this went down, the room was dead silent; all you could hear other than the frenetic bass solo was the sound of several hundred jaws hitting the ground.

3. John Medeski is an octopus – Seriously.  Dude played no less than eight keyboards and rarely played less than two at once.

These three things were things (in one form or antoher) that I’d seen in previous MMW shows.  I know there’s going to be mind-numbing solos from all involved and I know that Medeski will do the ambidextrous freak thing.  What I never know (which keeps me going back) is the details, how they’ll sound on the night I’m going.  As long as they’re coming to town, I’ll be in the crowd, waiting to see something I’ve never seen, hear something I’ve never heard, even as I’m seeing things that are familiar and comfortable.

We’ve got a track from 2003 below to get you in the mood.  In the meantime, see this band as often as possible.  Also, buy this.

“Partido Alto” – Medeski, Martin & Wood – Live, 2003

(Posscript: I did not mention what they played.  It is totally irrelevant.  They played music.  It was awesome.  I did not write down song titles or (for the most part) catch that many.  It was heavy on Radiolarians material to my ear, but I’m sure there was some older stuff spiked in.  They could read the phonebook and I’d listen, so I (more or less) never pay attention to the songs they play or don’t play.  I want to soak it in, not catalog it.  The dude who kept screaming “Bubblehouse” at every opportunity didn’t feel the same way, apparently.)

Rolling into shows in full pre-game mode has its benefits, particularly when artists exceed lofty expectations and melt faces.  Full disclosure, I’m not a big live review blogger, and toss the blue-ribbon to my colleagues Brian, Justin, and James in this arena.  I’m much to erratic cognitively during live performances and my mind can just as easily wander as it can become rapt.  I usually begin concerts in full journalist mode, jotting down tracklists and attempting to evaluate the entire scene throughout the night.  This quickly digresses when alcohol’s involved, and it fails doubly hard when the band I’m evaluating happens to be one of my favorites.  Austin’s White Denim has tied me in aural knots since the Let’s Talk About It EP, and the frenetic, jazz inspired fuzz ripped up The Grog Shop last week.

We pre-gamed next door at La Cave Du Vin, a swanky speakeasy with pricey imports.  Three or four Japanese Stouts and something or others and we were in rare form.  Brian and I, along with our web guru Taylor, hit the venue just in time for Brazos, another Austin band garnering quite a bit of cred nationwide.  The band hit the stage, all with sunburst guitars and pounded us with breathtaking melodies for six or seven songs.  From the jump, I noticed the emphasis on the percussion, as the drummer pounds the skins and goes to work  Everything was beautifully arranged, from the vocal soaring to the minimally distorted punch.  The band’s super talented, and we’ve included a track below.  They’re out touring on their most recent release, Phosphorescent Blues, and we give all of the tracks a heartwarming recommendation.  There’s something to be said about both of these Austin bands traveling to Cleveland together; it was also a Saturday night.  Stars align when big buzz bands hit our fine city on the weekend.  Normally, we get the ever-popular Tuesday late show as the band shuffles through on their way to Chicago.  We were blessed to get our first taste of Brazos (trust us, you’ll be hearing more from them), and White Denim, all without having to worry about getting up for the 9 to 5 the next morning.

Once Brazos finished the set, we got the chance to chat with James Petralli, guitarist and lead vocalist for White Denim.  The mystery and confidence surrounding both Exposion, and their most recent release, Fits, had me at least mildly curious how the band would react to a few bloggers before they hit the stage.  I very tentatively say “to our surprise,” in that I penciled them in beforehand as being mildly aloof.  This was a huge mistake.  James was extremely gracious as we discussed Bon Iver, Megafaun, Akron/Family, and, since you’ve probably noticed by now that Brian was doing a lot of talking, Phish.  We hit him with a few of our requests, and parted ways just before the band began.  If you get the chance to meet any of the three fellas in the band, get a full round of something nice.  They’re a class act.

This is where things get a bit muddled for me.  I was six or seven deep by the time they strummed the first chord, and once the show began, there was no time for bullshit journalism.  They slayed.  The band opened with a blitzkrieg montage of four to six tracks without pausing for air.  I didn’t waste time with a pencil, trying to snag a setlist.  I know they rattled through “Don’t Look That Way At It,” “Shake Shake Shake” and “All Consolation” and I could have headed home a happy man after those three alone.  Petralli was as advertised.  The frenetically enthused guitar work jaw-dropped the audience from the first note, and it’s pretty remarkable that he’s able to wail so complexly and still manage to belt out vocals.  When they launched into “Heart From Us All,” I swear I’ve never bounced around The Grog Shop in less-than-hipster-esque fashion as I did that night.  I jammed, I banged my head, I played air guitar, and even threw a few devil-horns.  White Denim’s gritty and complex arrangements make it incredibly easy to enjoy in a nostalgic kind of way.  One part 70′s psychedelia a la Hendrix, one part jazzy funk, a dash of punk, a spritz of hippie jam band, and three heaping mounds of cool all blended together into an unforgettable set.  “I Start To Run” closed out the show, and asses were shaking, and many folks, who just kind of wandered in without any sort of expectation, left the venue completely blown away.  Nobody in Cleveland knows about White Denim, but we have a sneaky feeling the word is spreading rapidly.  Another random journalist from Akron happened to stop in on a friend’s request, and her hair was a pile of tangles and sweat by the end of the show.  If she wasn’t converted, nobody was that night.

To close, it’s aptly fitting to wind down with a more philosophical tidbit from the performance, and abnormally, it presents an issue Brian and I are in full agreement about.  Typically, concertgoers get their hands stamped to hear specific music they find meritorious from the recorded efforts.  This is not a new revelation.  In fact, Brian and I, in our pre-show chat with Petralli, unabashedly put on our fanboy visages and mentioned our love of “Sitting” from last year’s Exposion.  It’s the album’s closer and easily encapsulates White Denim’s converging influences perfectly.  The mere insinuation that Petralli was going to get the band to play that song based on our request had us starry-eyed, literally, and not from the PBR’s.  After the blistering set came to a close, it was obvious that “Sitting” wasn’t going to be played this night.  Petralli had mentioned that they’ve only played the song live a couple times, and it’s difficult to translate into a live setting.  After the show, James joked with me and said, “Wanna hear ‘Sitting’ real quick.”  Of course, I had two reactions to this, one of which is probably the most important.  Sometimes it’s best to NOT hear the pristine, favorite track live.  It leaves a shade of mystery and concretes that song as something a bit untouched.  Make no mistakes, White Denim brought six A-Games to the stage that night.  It’s almost a relief that they opted out of playing our request.  It was about as perfect as could be without going for the slam dunk at the end.  Word.

Enjoy the Brazos tune, as well as “Mirrored and Reverse” off of White Denim’s just-released-in-the-USA, Fits.  I’ve also included a killer live version of “Let’s Talk About It” from their KVRX sessions a couple of years ago.  Also, if you live near any of these cities, get your ass out for the show.  If you’re a vinyl fan, you’ll be happy to know that Fits also includes a bonus copy of Exposion as well.  This also made our night.  I’ve already worn the grooves off of Exposion within the last week.

Brazos – Day Glo

White Denim – Mirrored and Reverse

White Denim – Let’s Talk About It (Live @ KVRX)
11.17 Birmingham, AL @ The Bottletree
11.18 Atlanta, GA @ The Earl
11.19 Orlando, FL @ The Social
11.20 St Augustine, FL @ Cafe Eleven
11.22 New Orleans, LA @ One Eyed Jacks

To be honest, Schubas is not one of my favorite places in the city to see a show. For starters the location is less than ideal for someone coming from the Wicker Park/Ukrainian Village area, and though the room is cozy enough it lacks the dive-like appeal that my favorite venues are known for. Not to say that I haven’t seen mu share of great shows there, but they could have easily taken place elsewhere and likely been even better. Years ago the space seemed to be far more indie-friendly, but as the neighborhood has gentrified into Lincoln Park north, the bookings have trended far more toward the mainstream. Again, not that there is anything wrong with that, but I feel as though it certainly had an effect on the attendance on Tuesday. Despite being a major metropolis, getting people in Chicago to go out on a Tuesday night is often like pulling teeth: unless something really big is going down you are going to have a hard time packing the room. And therein lies the biggest downfall of Schubas on this particular evening. The band on the stage was so immensely talented that it was almost painful for me to watch them pour their souls out on the stage for a semi-lifeless crowd of maybe thirty people. Selfishly I was fine with catching an incredible band in a non-crowded and intimate environment, but altruistically they deserved much better.

The show itself was an hour-long onslaught of some of the best shoegaze-garage music that I have had the opportunity to witness up close and personal. The entire band oozed with talent and their chops were on full display throughout the evening. Singer and guitarist Gareth Liddiard put on a mesmerizing performance, belting out infectious hooks in his thick Australian accent while shredding his fingers on against his own guitar strings. No exaggeration, the white pick guard on his Fender Jazzmaster was stained with his blood by the time the band was into their third song. Beyond his intense vocals, Liddiard was otherwise quiet throughout the set, seemingly comfortable to defer all witty banter to guitarist Dan Luscombe, who had no trouble keeping the crowd entertained. Typically it is hard to maintain interest in a show when you are unfamiliar with the majority of the songs, but The Drones had me sucked in entirely from the opening note, an incredible testament to what this band is able to do on stage. Though the set was short and there was no encore, I left more than please with the performance that I took in. Unfortunately I can’t comment on the setlist given my relative unfamiliarity and the fact that the band did not leave one on the stage for me to snag, but I can tell you this: if you have a chance to see these guys play, do it, and if you don’t, at least buy their records. You won’t regret it.

The Drones – Nail It Down (Live)

Buy The Drones @ Insound!

Next up is a brand new track that I got just a few days ago and have been spinning habitually ever since. As you might imagine, I get a ton of songs in my inbox on any given day, and though I try to listen to everything eventually, sometimes one of them catches my eye right away and I just need to hear it immediately. This was the case when I came upon Real Ones on Wednesday afternoon. Not only did it come from one of my favorite PR folks to work with, but the notes that accompanied it compared the band to both The Flaming Lips and Wilco. I’m aware that most of the time you can take those types of comparisons with a grain of salt, but I have a habit of being instantly intrigued by any band that welcomes a comparison to The Lips. The vast majority of the time I end up thoroughly disappointed, but Real Ones offered me a very pleasant surprise. I wouldn’t that they are really all that similar, but I can see the similarities in a RIYL sort of way. In any event, this is clearly a band that can stand on its own merits. When you venture into the realm of melodic acid folk-pop, there typically isn’t a lot of room for error, and these guys have absolutely nailed it. “Every Dog Has His Day” is criminally addictive and will be included on the Norwegian quintet’s US debut All for the Neighbourhood, which is dropping next week.

Real Ones – Every Dog Has His Day

Buy Real Ones @ Insound!

Ryan Adams has always been an artist that I have fallen in and out of love with throughout the years. I loved everything he did in Whiskeytown and Heartbreaker will always be on my list of albums I would want if I were stranded on a desert island. Beyond that, with the exception of Gold, which was a big part of my life for a few years, the rest of his records sort of come and go on a whim. While I like everything, I tend to go through phases and move on. As a lyrics person, I feel that this is easy to do with Ryan’s records given their relatability and often very personal content. The nice thing about that is that every now and then, when a song catches me or comes up in a shuffle, I can go back and rediscover pieces of his catalog that I had previously neglected or under-appreciated. This has been the case for me over the last week or so with Demolition. I used to like “Starting to Hurt” a ton, but never gave a whole lot of thought to the rest of the record beyond the initial infatuation the first week that I had it. Fast forward to now, after falling in love with the track “Cry on Demand,” and Demolition is my current favorite Ryan record. While I know that may change by morning (though I doubt it; I’m going to give it at least a few months at this point), it’s yet another gem that I can now stow away in my list of albums that I can play from start to finish and love every second of.

Ryan Adams – Cry On Demand

Buy Ryan Adams @ Insound!

The Beachland Tavern was pretty packed last night, especially considering it was a Monday. I’ll admit being surprised by this, particularly in light of the disagreement I’d had with another friend the day before about how attendance for last night’s A Hawk and a Hacksaw show would be. She said it would be busy, I said it wouldn’t be. After all, The Horse’s Ha show was on a similar night and it was totally dead, and that these two bands ought to be attracting the same kind of crowd. The same exact crowd. She said it would be busy and that while she didn’t know The Horse’s Ha, she did say that A Hawk and a Hacksaw had opened for Andrew Bird a while before and that would prove the difference. I didn’t think that would be the case.

I was wrong.

I had forgotten the hipster factor.

The crowd was thick with them last night, raising the temperature of the room at least 10 degrees as well as that terrible trend of indignance I do my best to keep bottled up but don’t always succeed at restraining.

Jeremy Barnes and his fellow performers did their thing and they did it well. Barnes is a proficient accordion player, and Heather Trost is even better on the strings. My favorite dude in the band was the tuba player, though, perhaps because in my own brass band days I was pretty handy with that instrument myself. The foursome (which also included a trumpet player) played hard and inspired and with sincerity. The sound was not gimmicky in the least – you can tell that Barnes breathes and lives for the culture of that part of the world and respects it deeply. I like that and was happy to see it come out in their performance. It all went so well and so real, in fact, that had you closed your eyes, you’d have been able to convince yourself this was actually a Bulgarian/Turkish/Hungarian folk group on some State Department sponsored cultural exchange.

Only it wasn’t. It was a bunch of white folks from the USA playing their best (and laudable) interpretation of that music. That’s fine – nothing necessarily imperialistic or opportunistic there, and as noted above, they do a pretty good job of paying homage to their sound’s origin. But, take away the Neutral Milk Hotel cred and the frontman’s slashing cop ‘stache, and as I perhaps too cynically said to my pal at the show, these guys would be a band marching in a small-town Gypsy Day parade. And there wouldn’t have been a soul in the room.

What struck me as a bit imperialistic and opportunistic and definitely gimmicky was the audience. Decked out in their thrift store flannel finest, what are the odds that these same folks would’ve attended the aforementioned hypothetical State Department tour? None. They certainly wouldn’t be pulling the dick move like the dipshit from one of the opening bands, the chubby dude with the bad hair, all drunk and doing his mocking version of a generic Eastern European folk dance based on something they hazily remembered from a childhood viewing of Fiddler on the Roof. (Speaking of which, can I give a shout-out to Topol? That dude seriously rules. He was one of my father’s heroes when I was a small child and I have fond memories of afternoons of watching him on video tapes on sluggish Sunday afternoons.)

So, I got up, got dressed, walked the dog, and headed to Waterloo Road, though not without a few muttered curses.

I should’ve known all along that making the tired drive over was the smartest thing I could’ve done. I had a great time, both seeing Ramona Falls perform and catching up with friends at Low Life Gallery’s latest spectacular opening.

I rolled in to the tavern just in time to hear the last 3-4 songs from The Modern Electric’s set. Unfortunately, I missed hearing either of my favorite two tracks from their recent wonderful self-titled debut, “David Bowie (Save Us All)” and “The Anti-Sing Along.” What I did get to hear was grand, though. I missed the middle band, Other Girls, in order to catch the exhibit opening down the block, which is disappointing considering how much I like tracks like “Gem City” and “Last Day” from their own recent album, Perfect Cities.

In a different way, though, it was well worth it. I’ve considered the Waterloo Road stretch of Cleveland’s Collinwood neighborhood home for quite some time now, even though my address won’t officially reflect that feeling until week after next, and while I was chatting with some friends and very soon to be neighbors, Brent Knopf walked over from the Beachland to check out the exhibit himself. I’d told him about it only several minutes before and when he walked up, it gave me an opportunity to see my neighborhood through his eyes. I introduced him to the fellow residents, folks that do graphics for rock clubs, shoot photos for NASA, and sit at the helm at the local NPR affiliate and best indie bookstore in the city, and was able to point out my favorite spots on the block, the Slovenian sausage store, the vintage toy shop, the record store with the custom designed album cover floor, the old man bar down the block and the mega-gallery building across the street. I’m sure I came off like an obnoxious Waterloo Welcome Wagon, but it was gratifying to hear Knopf give a shout out to the neighborhood and how much cool stuff was going on a short time later as he greeted the Beachland audience.

The show itself was wonderful (as if it could have ever been anything but, given the brilliance of the recent Intuit album). The performance wasn’t terribly long and there weren’t any set-list surprises (they played every one of the 11 tracks on Intuit, in different order from how they appear on the record, and nothing else), but there was something so relaxed yet energetic in how they played and interacted with one another.

At one point during the show, temporarily lost in the music (I think it might’ve been during “Salt Sack”), I decided that Knopf is the Barack Obama of indie rock. One of the things I love about our president is how smart he is, how when he speaks you see the wheels turning inside and turning in ways and at speeds that most of us couldn’t ever compare with. Knopf is the same way. When he’s performing, he’s fully into it, but you can see his mind working as the expressions on his face change, following the beat of something happening in his brain. Unlike Obama, his gears are turning to music, not wonky policy details, though Knopf has a penchant for the sciences, too. You should’ve seen his eyes light up when I introduced my friend who worked at NASA! (Check out a recent Q&A I did with him here for more evidence of this.)

The show began with my favorite track on Intuit, “Diamond Shovel,” with Knopf appearing solo on stage, strapped into a beautiful all black guitar. I’d meant to ask him the details on this piece of equipment but forgot. My bad. Sorry. After the song ended and his shout out to Cleveland and the block that surrounded the Beachland, the rest of the band joined him onstage.

Knopf has assembled a fearsome trio of musicians to accompany him on this tour, including his Menomena bandmate Danny Seim on bass, guitarist Matt Sheehy, and drummer Paul Alcott. The chops on each one of these guys are first rate, but Alcott particularly made an impression on me. A tremendous percussionist, he made his presence felt right off the bat with the first full-band song of the set, “Russia,” and continued to impress throughout, as much by his instrumental skills as his frenetic Sideshow Bob appearance and ADHD-esque inability to sit down for more than a minute or two at a time. Alcott also seems to be the funnyman of the group (though Seim might be a rival for this designation), publicly apologizing after “Russia” for dropping his stick, saying “Sorry about dropping a stick. I’m not gonna do that again. That was a one time thing.” All three sentences were enunciated in such an earnest and strange way, I couldn’t repeat them aloud as he originally delivered them to save my life.

Following Alcott’s apology, the band dove right in to a rollicking version of “I Say Fever.” For a gentle soul, Brent Knopf can fucking rock, and this song demonstrated that perfectly. Knopf forgot some of the lyrics at first and stood silently for a few lines while the band plugged ahead. He joined them a moment or so later and the rest of the song went off without a hitch.

I originally wasn’t going to draw attention to the lyrical ball-dropping – everyone makes mistakes – but Knopf decided to do so himself, explaining after the song ended that he had a theory about what had just happened. Specifically, it was something a lot like in the film Back to the Future, where people gradually start to disappear as the history that preceded their existence changed. Knopf linked the filmic reference to the forgotten lyrics by noting that the original feelings that had motivated the writing of “I Say Fever” had faded over the years, and that perhaps his memory of the lyrics was also fading, much like the characters in the film. As he started to further elaborate, trying to bring together the two otherwise disparate phenomena, Seim uttered into the microphone behind Knopf, “Get back in the DeLorean dude. Let’s do this. Knopf stopped his effort to reconcile the references immediately, and the band launched in to “The Darkest Day.”

After that song and a delightful version of “Bellyfulla,” Knopf performed the brief instrumental interlude from the album (“Boy Ant”), and Seim again stepped to the mic, noting that this song was written for “the girls that didn’t break Brent’s heart … that’s why there aren’t any lyrics.”

A chuckle later and the group was banging out “Going Once, Going Twice,” after which guitarist Sheehy announced he wasn’t going to be using his drink tickets and laid them upon the amp case in front of him for anyone who wanted them to pick up. I don’t remember that anyone ever took him up on the offer, perhaps because of some ill-placed Rust Belt alienation resulting from Sheehy’s Schlitz Beer dialogue. Sheehy paid for the shtick momentarily, though, as the band started “Salt Sack” and it took him a few moments and Alcott’s frantic waving across the stage before he realized his guitar wasn’t plugged in. (Either he’d switched without re-plugging or it had come detached as he leaned forward to lay down the drink tix.)

He got things back in order and the band finished the tune up, going in to “Always Right,” the point in the evening where Knopf seemed most into his vocals. I’d love to ask him the back story of that song some day and see if it matches the intensity of his effort on the song’s performance. Knopf seems like a dude that exudes sincerity, and my hunch is that he was thinking about whatever it was the motivated the song’s creation in the first place.

Afterwards, before announcing that the band had two songs left to play, he acknowledged that the slight polka tinge the audience might’ve heard in “Always Right” was indeed strategic, an effort they’d made to siphon off some of the energy in the venue’s other room, where a Detroit and Toledo based polka troupe was playing its own homage to Pink Floyd, titled appropriately Polka Floyd.

The band then played its final two songs, my two other favorite tracks off Intuit, “Clover” (which ended with a wonderful overlapping vocals effect) and “Melectric.” I said a quick goodbye to the folks in the room I knew, shook Knopf’s hand and congratulated him on a show well performed as he made his way over to the merch table, and hit the road, smiling from the show as well as in anticipation of the cool side of the pillow that now awaited me.

Ramona Falls at Beachland Tavern, 9/12/09:

1) Diamond Shovel
2) Russia
3) I Say Fever
4) The Darkest Day
5) Bellyfulla
6) Boy Ant
7) Going Once, Going Twice
Salt Sack
9) Always Right
10) Clover
11) Melectric

(Editor’s Note:  Going into Mission of Burma’s performance on the campus of Case Western Reserve University, I figured that if we heard five canonical songs from Signals, Calls and Marches and Vs., we should count ourselves lucky.  I was expecting a lot of new material, given that the band’s got a record coming out in a month or so, and hoped that we’d be able to pretend it was 1981 at least five times over the course of the evening.  By my count, Mission of Burma played no less than seven songs that made it seem that they’d stepped out of a time machine.  I had impossibly high expectations for the show, given my almost slavish devotion to Michael Azzerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life and its description of the band’s incendiary live work.  All the factors tonight (the venue, the crowd, the weather and, most importantly, the four musicians on the stage) made the show a perfect capstone to the summer and, without doubt, one of the best shows I’ve seen in a good long while.  Add in the fact that I felt all night like this is my last chance to see Mission of Burma (who the hell knows when they’ll shut it down again?) and that there was a good bit of whiskey involved and you’ve got the recipe for one hell of a night.  For simplicity and clarity, we’ve structured the review today around those seven songs that you’d play for a Martian if you wanted to explain post-punk.)

1. Academy Fight Song – We (Brian and Rob, for the record.  The other dicks were, sadly, either out of town or consumed with non-awesome-rock-show duties.) rolled to Case Western on the train, pockets stuffed with bottles of whiskey, brains filled with visions of concert greatness.  We missed the first eight bands at WRUW’s annual Studio-a-Rama due to other Labor Day weekend duties (my god-daughter’s birthday party, Rob’s obsession with Buckeyes football), but did hear good things about many of them as we wandered through the crowd.  We strolled into the Mather Memorial Courtyard, a dramatic place to see a show, just as Mission of Burma was wrapping up their soundcheck.  The courtyard, framed by a large neo-classical building that reeks of upper-crust ivory-towerishness, was filled to the brim with eager fans, milling about under the moon that Roger Miller would soon point to and wonder at the largeness of, basking in the glory of a perfect late summer evening in Cleveland.  As a WRUW figurehead introduced the band, Bob Weston (Martin Swope’s replacement knob spinner) fed his words into the loop and pushed them to weird extremes as Miller idly laid down creepy chords.  The duo built tension through their introduction with the haunting, echo-laden manipulation of the host’s words.  It was sweet.  As the figurehead wandered into the wings (after yelling exultantly “put your hands together for Mission! Of! Burma!”) the band immediately laced into “Academy Fight Song.”  I was so stunned that they opened with it that I didn’t recognize it for two or three bars.  When I did, I about lost my shit.  Clint Conley’s snarling delivery and Miller’s pummeling ax-work signaled to all present that there would be no messing about; dudes are fifty but, from the first note of “Academy” it was clear that they still have the fastball.  We were excited to see what would happen next.

2. That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate – The band went into two or three songs from Obliterati and one or two that I didn’t immediately recognize.  When they pounded out “That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate” things got a bit rowdy up front.  It was one of the songs that I had pretty high on the list of things that I wanted to hear, and it was absolutely bad ass.  Miller is consistently amazing on the guitar and the manipulations from Weston add a layer of depth to the sound that really has to be heard to be understood.  Azzerrad harped on the difference between the band’s live and recorded output, due in their first iteration to Swope’s work, but seeing it for yourself really contextualizes what’s going on.  “Fate” was the first time during the show that I was glad we were outside; put these dudes indoors and the show would have been painfully loud.  (Duh, given Miller’s well documented tinnitus, but it had to be said.)  The outdoor venue gave me the ability to chat with Rob when something struck one of us and to not go deaf, both of which were bonuses.  (Quick aside: the running joke for the evening was to try and identify Case students in the crowd (we put the number at somewhere around 15%) and then to imagine the venereal disease you might catch from them, as in Goodatmath Simplex B or Richparentillys.  I mentioned there was whiskey involved, right?)

3. Fame and Fortune – After a string of new songs that included “1,2,3 Partyy,” drummer Peter Prescott joked that, as a crowd we should be rewarded for listening to a bunch of old dudes singing new songs.  (Prescott was a barrel of laughs all night, later saying that seeing Burma now was the same as seeing Journey, given their similar ages.)  Sensing that that might imply some classic stuff, I prompted Rob to start filming.  They ripped into “Fame and Fortune” just as Rob hit record.  (You can hear me hollering “yeah” as the song starts.  Whiskey.)  It was a clear highlight of the evening; the breakdown was sweet and the band’s lockstep precision coming out of it bespoke their level of professionalism.  Watching the video this morning reminded me how savagely Miller plays the guitar and how visceral the band was throughout.  It can’t be said enough: I can’t imagine seeing these dudes when they were in their 20s; it must have been some serious scorched Earth stuff.  (Rob and I hammered out some things about the post through e-mail today; the best comment to come out of that discussion is this one:  “It was hard to zoom and keep the camera steady with a bottle of whiskey in my hand.”  Good times!  Also, the guy with the frizzy blond hair was doing what he’s doing in the video all night long.  Impressive stamina.  Also, the idiots talking behind us ought to be punched in the neck by Woody Hayes.)

Click here to view the embedded video.

4. This is Not a Photograph – Seriously, how good is this song?  Listen to it on your itunes, then imagine it five times louder and ten times more emotionally delivered.  Miller has serious chops and his solo here was top-drawer. (There were about six times during the set that either Rob or I pointed gape mouthed at something Miller was doing with a guitar.  If they’re in your neighborhood, start paying really close attention when he picks up the slide.)

5. That’s When I Reach for My Revolver – I don’t have to write much for this one, do I?  Everybody was singing along at the top of their lungs, the slam dancers up front picked up their game a notch and Mission of Burma took no prisoners.  This song’s, more or less, the invention of modern rock, right?  It was (to use one of Kevin’s phrases), the cat’s ass.  We were 100% sure that the show couldn’t get any better after this and almost flirted with leaving early.  You ever get those feelings at concerts?  The rush of a song is so powerful that you don’t want to see anything else, afraid that you might lose that wave of adrenaline and good feeling from seeing something amazing?  We obviously didn’t leave early, at least partially becuase Mission of Burma is the kind of act that makes you think there’s always another level to step to.  If “Revolver” was a 9.5 (and it was) we felt that Burma could get to a 10.  It’s not a lot of bands that inspire that kind of confidence.

6.  Ballad of Johnny Burma – They opened the encore with this one.  Thank God we didn’t leave.

7. Max Ernst – “Max Ernst” wasn’t on the setlist (more on that in a minute) but when Miller sounded the opening chords, I about lost my mind.  I was already singing “dada, dada, dada” in my head.  A very stout, apparently very drunk dude approached the center of the stage, seemingly from out of nowhere just as the song started.  It soon became clear that he was planning to dive into the steadily growing, but relatively tame group of young fellows pushing each other around.  It was also clear that he was at least fifty pounds to heavy to pull off a stage dive without causing serious harm to himself and others.  He went anyway.  It did not look to turn out well, but we didn’t see an ambulance or a body when the show cleared out, so it must have nothing more than some bruises.  Soon after that, the band abruptly stopped “Max Ernst” and huddled around Prescott’s drum kit.  After a minute, Prescott said something like: “Sometimes we stop songs in the middle and talk to each other.  We’re old.”  Then they launched into something else entirely.  Rob and I strayed to the front of the crowd to relive out youths with a little pushing and shoving and the set soon concluded.

Postscript: We didn’t get the setlist, cause the kid in the picture was way more opportunistic and spry than we were.  I did get a photo of him holding it though, so that counts for something.  (I considered sucker punching him and taking it, but I’m a vegetarian and, by nature, non-violent.) As Rob and I left the courtyard, it became clear the building that served as the stage’s backstage area was unlocked and unguarded.  We strolled in, immediately saw Conley packing up his gear and walked over, stars in our eyes.  Journalistically, I blew it.  I turned into a fan, shook his hand, said it was a great set and asked for a picture.  (I made a horribly lame joke about this actually being a photograph and immediately rejected it.)  Rob got a picture as well.  Neither of us said we were from a blog or that we were writing a review or asked any critical questions, we just paid our respects and went on our way.  Conley was super cool and immensely gracious . It was a perfect ending to an amazing live show.  If Mission of Burma are within two states of where you are, go there.

Mission of Burma – That’s When I Reach for My Revolver – Live, 2004

Mission of Burma – Academy Fight Song – Live, 2004

Mission of Burma – Trem Two – Live, 2004

Mission of Burma – That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate – Live, 2004

To begin this review, it’s important to make our apologies for getting this review up nearly a month after the show took place.  This isn’t our normal operating procedure, and folks, we feel terrible about it.  Of all of the shows this summer, these two early August gems were among the best we’ve seen all year.  We don’t have a worthwhile excuse, other than blaming our tardiness on our weak Citizen Dick filing system.  Not only were James and his adjoining musician Brian Lowery excellent to speak/drink with, but their quick collection of crafted balladry was superb, as well.  Whether he’s playing in his side project, The Jescos, or touring as Wand or Wooden Wand, James Toth is an absolutely intriguing and worthwhile show to catch.  His country/soul/punk sound aptly fills the room, and hipster attendees listen to what the man’s belting out.  His witty and sharp lyricism stands front and center, and for the shows at Rumba Cafe in Columbus and The Empty Bottle in Chicago, the two-man traveling sets were short and sweet in all the right ways.

If you’re a regular reader, then you’ll no doubt remember how high I am on Wand’s most recent release, Hard Knox, a collection of rarities and B-sides Toth has recorded through the years.  I snagged the album immediately upon hearing “Arriving” and “Soldier Movies,” and it’s been in immensely heavy rotation ever since.  I must admit, Hard Knox was my first taste of Toth’s work, and a scan of the back catalog suggests a prolific career predating his 2009 release.  Born Bad was just recently released, as well, and if you’re into the full band sound, we suggest picking that one up immediately. Throughout his career, Toth’s edgy folk sound has been acclaimed and we’re glad we hopped on board this year.  As a literature teacher, I’m immediately drawn to how intelligent Toth is lyrically, and his semi-narrative pieces swing through a myriad of shadowy topics.  He splices symbolically driven words with epithets of dark wisdom, and even in an intimate and quick live set, everything transfers beautifully.

Columbus Show @ Rumba Cafe

Rumba Cafe is located just off the beaten path in our state’s capital of Columbus.  It’s a smaller venue but that doesn’t stop some big name indie acts from popping in for a show during tour routes.  There’s an eclectic decor, with an oddball mix of spanish inspired artwork and traditional English pub woodwork.  Cafe tables nestle tightly up against the lengthy bar that runs from the entrance to back of the establishment and a tiny stage sits in the corner with a couple dimly lit stage lights overhead.  The obligatory strands of Christmas lights are loosely strung behind the performers and, for at least this show, the entire bar is dark as hell and sobering when the acts start to play.  In one sense, this was perfect for Toth’s set, but conversely, it made for horrible photo conditions.  The pre-show festivities were a mixture of ups and downs.  The tone was set early when I had forgotten my driver’s license back in Cleveland, and although I have a full beard, was on the guest list, and was bantering back and forth with Toth and Lowery, I couldn’t snag a single beer out of the rigid Rumba staff.  Although I was relegated to strong espresso coffee for the night, I was able to chat a little with James before the opener began playing.  At the time of the show, they were midway through the tour and had just driven fifteen hours to arrive in Columbus an hour before the show’s start.  He looked tired but was completely affable and stoked to play for the small crowd.  Later stops with bands like Akron/Family and at more esteemed venues like The Empty Bottle were no doubt boons on the future calendar, but Toth treated this tiny cafe as if it were the Metrodome, and it’s always great to meet a gracious musician who just likes to perform.  Meeting Toth confirmed my expectations; he’s wickedly smart and well traveled.  He knows music, and even more importantly, he knows how to play a live show.

Toth and bandmate Brian Lowery didn’t have a huge blistering set for us, but the ten or eleven songs they did play were quietly entrancing for the crowd.  Two small amplifiers, one electric guitar and one steel slide guitar was all the two needed to get gutsy for a few tunes.  They began the show with “Saturday Delivery,” one of my favorite Hard Knox tracks, and while I’m uncertain if the stone quiet crowd had ever heard it, they certainly dug it.  I have to confess that I’m a sing-along kind of guy, and because of how quiet everyone was, I had to tone it down a notch.  I’ve posted this track below if you haven’t heard it yet.  It’s completely kick-ass live.  Toth has a muted confidence and swagger on stage, and if you’re an indie fan, you know that some folks hop up on stage with a basket of taut nervousness.  Toth fires off at the opposite end of that spectrum.  He’s ready to play and “seasoned pro” is an apt descriptor.  As the two moved through Dylan covers and some Jescos material (Brian Lowery is also a member of that project), it was easy to become engrossed. Tracks that were unfamiliar to me, like “Heartbroken Haywire” and “Eagle Claw” became intimate favorites within three minutes of the first guitar strum.  Thought-provoking lyricism and witty conversational banter between tracks made this two hour drive down from Cleveland a pleasant diversion for the middle of the week.  In true folk fashion, Toth tells stories in between songs and creates a personal connection with the audience.  It’s a nice contrast to some of the more brooding content in the music and only serves to point to his versatility.  Pairing his recorded material with the live show really begs us to wonder why he hasn’t received more press than he has.  He’s a musician and poet and writes gorgeous songs.  The 45 minute quickie in Columbus was well worth my time, and if you’ve got a chance to see Toth, Wand, The Jescos, or in whatever particular capacity is available, you won’t be disappointed.

Chicago Show @ Empty Bottle

As far as the Chicago show goes, things were similarly low-key on a Wednesday night at The Empty Bottle.  I must admit that I was feeling a bit lazy on this particular evening and decided to skip out on the opening acts.  I realize that is poor concert etiquette, and not a practice that I typically engage in, but it was a Wednesday after all.  After checking ahead to find that WAND was hitting the stage at 11:30pm, I downed a few beers at the casa and made the short walk to the venue a few minutes past 11.  Upon arriving, the hoard of pseudo hipsters standing around outside smoking their hand-rolled cigarettes let me know that I had gotten there just in time for Mr. Toth’s set.  Unlike Kevin I had the foresight to bring a state issued ID along with me, so after checking my name off the guest list I headed straight to the bar for my usual $2 bottle of PBR.  The scene was decidedly mellow for an Empty Bottle show, even one on a Wednesday just shy of midnight.  Even with the smokers back inside, the crowd was sparse and, for the most part, kept a safe distance from the front of the stage.  There were undoubtedly more folks here than in Columbus, but for the normally raucous venue the energy in the air was decidedly mellow.  While everyone was attentive as Toth took the stage, it was fairly evident that the weird rockabilly guy in the straw hat was the only person besides me who was ready to crowd close and sing along.

Upon taking the stage, Toth picked up his guitar and settled into a stool on the right of the stage before setting the tone of the evening with some witty banter about his love for Chicago and Black Flag tattoos.  The banter is something that would continue throughout the night, showing that Toth is one of those rare musicians with an innate ability to connect with his audience on a personal level without seeming contrived or cheesy.  As in Columbus, the set opened with “Saturday Delivery,” followed by a new song that I was unfamiliar with and an oldie from way back, “Wand Arrives.”  At this point, three songs in, Brian Lowery made his way to the stage to contribute his skills on the slide guitar to the set.  The duo worked their way through a few favorites, including “Born Bad” and the intense “Arriving.”  Lowery then took the vocal reigns, playing one of his own songs, “Catch You,” with Toth looking on in approval.  From there the set wound down with a Dylan cover and what should have been the closer, “Eagle Claw.”  By this point in the night WAND had managed to win over the vast majority of the previously subdued crown, eventually giving in to the chants for an encore.  The encore ended up being a new track that the duo has been working on for an upcoming Jescos record, the retro ballad “Stones or Beatles.”  The song’s narrative voice states that loving his woman is easy, unlike trying to choose between The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.  After the set I had a brief chat with Toth and made a point to ask him about that particular song, and if that was really a tough decision for him.  His reply?  “Shit no, Stones all the way!”  Personally I couldn’t agree more, and that’s just another reason why I love WAND and you should, too.

Wand – Trails

Wand – Arriving

Wand – Soldier Movies

Wand – Saturday Delivery

For Johnston, these days sound checks are more like mini-practice sessions where he’s meeting his band for the first time, often only a couple hours before they perform. Johnston travels from town to town and uses local indie bands as his backing band and, as different as scenes are from city to city and all bands are from one another, you can imagine how unique the sound each night becomes.

I never caught the name of the band that was playing behind Johnston at this show, held at Ann Arbor’s Blind Pig venue, but they were hard and loud. Often times bands playing behind Johnston are poppy, and keep things restrained to avoid overwhelming his frequently meek vocals, but these guys played some straight-forward hard rock … and Johnston dug it. The memorable moment mentioned at the beginning of this post came when Johnston decided to run through one of his most famous songs, “Speedy Motorcycle,” with the band. Clearly, the band had been instructed to begin the song only pairing single keyboard notes timed to go with the songs opening lyrics (“Speedy Motorcycle, won’t you change me/Speedy Motorcycle, won’t you change me/In a world of funny changes/Speedy Motorcycle, won’t you change me”). After Johnston repeats “won’t you change me” that third time, the rest of the band comes in, providing the backing for the rest of the song. And when they came in this time, they came in heavy, taking Johnston by welcome surprise to the point that he shouted “Oh, right on!” and laughed before starting to sing along. I turned and smiled at my friend, Leia, who had come up to Ann Arbor with me on this one-day road trip, and saw that I wasn’t the only one tickled by Daniel’s sincere and spontaneous response. A few minutes later, the song ended, and Johnston immediately thanked and commended the guys in the band for playing it so heavy, saying that usually bands playing behind him want to play it like a calypso, but that he really liked how they played it loud: “that’s rock and roll, man!”

A few more songs and the soundcheck ended, and Johnston headed back over to the table where Leia and I waited, snagging a coke from the bar on the way over. We talked for another twenty minutes or so, about forthcoming projects (he has two albums and a movie in the works, and is hoping to build a home recording studio), the process at work when he creates his visual art, his visits to comic book stores in the various towns on tour (and why he’d recently switched from buying cheap comics in bulk to buying nicer collectibles), his favorite producers to work with, and the experience of having a famous documentary film made about him (he groused,
“Yeah, they really did me well there – they called it The Devil and Daniel Johnston – I’m not going to live that down even if I become 100 years old!”).

Click here to view the embedded video.

As interesting as all those topics were, movies are where you can really see Johnston’s eyes light up. I’d learned this a few years ago when I was living in Texas, a town or so over from the hamlet where Daniel makes his home, and I’d had the opportunity to visit him at his house and conduct an interview in his living room as we watched The Deer Hunter, drank generic orange soda, and smoked menthols. This time, Johnston brought up the topic of movies, saying he spent a lot of time watching movies, and I asked him what his recent favorites were. He started off listing a bunch of old horror movies, King Kong, Beneath the Planet of the Apes, Frankenstein and the Wolfman, Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Shining, and then stopped himself, saying “Boy, you asked the wrong guy about movies. I could go on and on, list a hundred!” I chuckled, but Leia jumped in, saying back, “No, we asked the right guy then.” He looked directly at her for a moment, seeming to appreciate that perspective, and then started listing more movies, these more surprising. He mentioned how he loved The Nutty Professor, and then how he thought Schindler’s List was one of the best films ever made. This reminded him of the recent Tom Cruise movie where Cruise plays a Nazi officer trying to assassinate Hitler (Valkyrie), and then led him to start talking about the Cruise remake of War of the Worlds. Then, for a few minutes, Leia, Daniel, and I discussed the career of Tom Cruise and how the ladies seem to like him.

About this time, it became clear our time with Daniel was about to end. Folks from the venue and his backing band were coming by, one by one, to shake hands and meet him, and soon a tall man with a tough-to-place accent came over. Daniel shouted, “Elvis!” and said to Leia and I, “Guys, this is my friend Elvis Costello.” The man smiled and rolled his eyes and introduced himself – he was Ralston Bowles, longtime Michigan-based singer-songwriter, and was schedule to open the show for Johnston. Apparently there was a history between the two, as Daniel kept calling him Elvis and laughing, and then asking if he’d be willing to come on stage later and sing on “Man Obsessed with him” and if Bowles wanted to join his group for pizza in a few minutes. Ralston agreed and then excused himself, and Leia did me a solid that releases her from buying me birthday presents for years to come – pulling my Daniel Johnston-designed Jeremiah the Innocent vinyl toy sculpt out of her bag, snagging my sharpie from my shirt pocket, and getting Johnston’s autograph for me on the bottom of it. We had time for one quick picture before Johnston and his group hustled out the door for their dinner, but a thousand new memories.

A few minutes later, we left ourselves, meeting an old friend of Leia’s and eventually seeking out dinner at the same pizza shack as Johnston and company. We had a fine time, then hit the basement dive bar/pool hall before venturing up to the sauna-like concert hall. We arrived just as Bowles was finishing his set, and waited with a almost three hundred Michigan hipsters for Johnston to make his way onstage. He soon did, solo and wielding an acoustic guitar. He played like that for thirty minutes, mostly either back-catalog or not-yet-released songs like “Freedom” and “Life in Vain” (which was WONDERFUL) that the audience wasn’t able to sing along with, though they did join in earnestly when the first chords of “Silly Love” were strummed. At one point, someone in the crowd shouted “We Love You, Daniel!” and Johnston responded, deadpan, “That was Kurt Cobain.” (I learned later that the gentleman who had shouted was wearing the famous t-shirt Cobain wore and had long, messy hair much like Cobain’s.)

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

After a short break, Johnston came back with the same backing band we’d seen soundcheck with him before, playing a few more back catalog tunes, including a tumultuous “Walking the Cow” and the aforementioned “Speedy Motorcycle,” which although it didn’t have the intimacy and spontaneity of the soundcheck version, still rocked in a way that assured it was the audience favorite of the set.

Click here to view the embedded video.

For me, however the highlights were different, and three-fold:

First, when Johnston’s microphone persisted in acting up and he moved over to a different one, he said something along the lines of “Sorry folks, no refunds if this one doesn’t work” (though that joke wasn’t half as funny as his earlier one about the guy about to be sentenced to death for attempting to commit suicide). Second, when he played “Rock n Roll EGA,” a tune as sorrowful and beautiful as any he’s written over the decades, particularl the lines “If I ever thought that I could be happy/Dreams like that always faded away/And all the girls already had boyfriends/I was alone as lonely could be.” And, finally, third, when Daniel introduced his friend “Elvis Costello” to the stage (again, Bowles) and they played “Man Obsessed.” The audience roared when Costello’s name was mentioned, and I leaned over and asked Leia how many people she thought were in that audience that were going home that night and telling friends they’d seen the man responsible for “Veronica” and “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding.” I didn’t think about that for long, though, as the song was a wonderful mess. Clearly Bowles had no idea how the song was supposed to go, but the band and Johnston made it through just fine anyway. At the end, an energized and well-humored Johnston impishly grins and gestures at Bowles and shouts to the audience, “Elvis Costello!” And then walked off the stage.

]]> http://citizendick.org/2009/08/25/daniel-johnston-blind-pig-august-16/feed/ 0 http://citizendick.org/2009/08/13/lollapalooza-2009-mega-recap/ http://citizendick.org/2009/08/13/lollapalooza-2009-mega-recap/#comments Thu, 13 Aug 2009 17:02:03 +0000 james http://citizendick.org/?p=5378

(Editor’s Note: I did not attend Lollapalooza as a journalist this year.  I attended strictly as a fan and to have a good time drinking and listening to music with my friends.  That said, as an aspiring music journalist it is my duty to at least bring you some sort of report from an event of this magnitude if I am physically present there.  This recap is intended purely for entertainment purposes and all comments are my own opinion of the way I remember things.  Obviously I didn’t see every band, nor did I even make it to some that I really wanted to catch, but I will try to make some mention of everything that I was able to take in.  I was operating under a pretty serious haze of alcohol for the entire three days, I did not take notes, I did not memorize set lists, and I didn’t even bring a camera.  I did, however, bring two packs of smokes and a liter of vodka each day, so if any of this is not 100% accurate I apologize.  I would also like to acknowledge that all photos utilized in this post are from the official Lollapalooza flickr account, and I encourage you all to go sift through the 50+ pages to see more photos of your favorite artists HERE.  That does it for the disclaimers, so enjoy!)

DAY ONE:

The Builders and the Butchers:

This was the first band on my must-see list for the weekend, so I showed up on Friday afternoon in the pouring rain to catch their set.  They were on one of the smaller side stages, so given that and the fact that it was early afternoon on Friday during a serious downpour the crowd was a bit sparse.  I suspect that a lot of folks were still at work, waiting for the rain to stop (it didn’t), or catching Gaslight Anthem or White Lies instead.  This is unfortunate because the boys from Oregon put on a pretty killer show.  It was heavy on the new album, but it didn’t matter.  They closed with “Devil Town,” and that was around the time I started drinking.

White Lies:

I caught a few songs at the end of their set because we were meeting a friend near their stage and their set continued for about thirty minutes after The Builders and the Butchers were done.  I wish I had taken a piss or something instead.  A bunch of teenage boys dressed in black playing Interpol knock-offs in the rain?  No thanks.

Bon Iver:

I wasn’t sure how Bon Iver’s set would translate to a grandiose festival stage in front of tens of thousands of fans, but I was very pleasantly surprised.  Though he normally plays seated and usually alone on stage, he actually stood for this one and brought a talented group of backing musicians with him this time.  The result was awesomely appropriate given the inclement weather and generally chill mood.  Everything seemed louder than on record, and the additional instruments fit in quite nicely.  I don’t recall many details, but he played “Beach Baby” and that made me happy.

Bon Iver – Skinny Love

Ben Folds:

Ben Folds was not someone that I had planned on seeing, but my friends were into it and there was nobody else really playing at the same time so I obliged and joined them.  I don’t particularly care for Ben Folds in general but his set was actually pretty OK and the crowed definitely seemed pleased with it.  I don’t know many of his songs so the set list was pretty much a mystery to me, but it was fun bordering on cheesy as I expected.  He didn’t play “Brick,” but he did do a few songs I recognized, including that cover of a hip-hop tune that I had heard before.

Fleet Foxes:

Caught about half their set, wasn’t particularly impressed, and went to get food.  I ordered a gyro and was even less impressed with that.  This sucks, because I really like Mykonos off of last year’s Sun Giant.

Fleet Foxes – Mykonos

The Decemberists:

This performance was a very pleasant surprise for me.  I have always liked The Decemberists, but for some reason didn’t have the highest of hopes for their set at Lollapalooza.  As it turned out, it was probably my favorite of the entire weekend, despite some reports that I have seen from others who were less impressed with it.  The sound was amazing and the band didn’t appear to miss a single note throughout the hour that they played.  The catch to their set was the curious decision to play the entire The Hazards of Love album from start to finish rather than relying on a set full of hits and favorites as many bands do in such a setting.  Though many, including myself, would say that Hazards is the band’s weakest studio album, something about watching it come to life was thrilling to me.  As on the record, Lavender Diamond’s Becky Stark and My Brightest Diamond’s Shara Worden were on hand lending their amazing vocals in addition to acting out their respective roles on the sprawling concept album.  Also of note was Coln Meloy’s stellar guitar playing.  He may hate America, but the way he shredded on Friday evening almost made up for that.

Kings of Leon:

This was another surprise for me.  There was a time when I was a pretty big Kings of Leon fan, but that was a long time ago.  I fell in love with Youth and Young Manhood when it first dropped, and fell even harder for Aha Shake Heartbreak, which I still think is a great record.  Since then, however, I have been an all out hater.  Because of the Times was a disappointment, and I found Only by the Night to be utter garbage.  Combine that stance with the fact that I had been hearing that they don’t play any of their older material on their current tour and I was reluctant to even bother catching them.  As it turned out, I was dead wrong and they actually put on a great show.  Sure, there were some generic moments and the obligatory hits from the new record, but for the most part they seemed to be having a good time and playing whatever the hell they wanted.  They were five songs in before I heard anything new, and they even played “Taper Jean Girl” and “red Morning Light,” two of my favorites from the good old days.  Of course, that was somewhat offset by their obligation to play the god-awful “Sex on Fire,” which turned into such a sing along that you could barely hear the band.  There was a time that such a scene was the last thing you would expect from KOL, mainly because you couldn’t understand any of the words.  Luckily they got that one out of the way early, allowing many of the teenagers who waited for hours in the rain just to hear that song to cut out early and beat the crowd.  Overall I was pleased with the set, and left feeling slightly superior after seeing the confused looks on the faces of many in the crowd during the older and less popular songs.  For one last night the old KOL was back.  Sorta.

DAY TWO:

Animal Collective DJ Set:

WTF?  That’s all I have to say.  When I walked in I thought I was in the wrong place.  It seemed like they were oblivious to the fact that they were actually performing for people.  The highlight was some stoned hippie dancing on the stage.  I left and cracked the seal on my first drink.

Chairlift:

We caught Chairlift almost by default.  The original destination was supposed to be Gomez, but the stage they were playing on smelled like a cow pasture and in my hung-over state it was making me nauseous.  The tightly packed crowd and the 100-degree heat weren’t helping either.  That worked out well for me since I was never to keen on Gomez to begin with and Chairlift was on a side stage near the entrance that provided a nice meeting spot for a group of late arriving friends.  They sounded OK and they played that song from the iPod commercial.  That was about the time I started drinking heavily.

Chairlift – Bruises (Daytrotter Session)

Arctic Monkeys:

This was another band that I wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing but ended up just going with the flow.  I would have much preferred to stay near the side stage to catch No Age, but a huge group of friends had a spot staked out near the stage and we intended to keep it for TV on the Radio who played there next.  My first impression was that they look radically different that the last time I saw them at the Metro on the heels of their debut record.  Apparently the chubby guy is no longer in the band and the rest of them look far more grown up, which makes sense I suppose.  The set was raucous and fun, but being one of the few bands there in support of an album that is yet to be released the crown was having trouble getting into it.  Towards the end they played a few of their older track and the fans near the front erupted.  They played “I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor” and a mosh pit broke out.  I continued to drink.

Arctic Monkeys – Crying Lightning

Santigold:

After Arctic Monkeys, half of us stayed behind to secure our area while I went across the field with an adventurous crew to scope out a few minutes of Santigold.  If it weren’t for the fact that her stage was near the bar and a row of port-a-johns the trip would have been a complete bust.  As expected she came out looking ridiculous and sounded utterly disappointing.  She played those two songs everybody knows.  I peed and got a drink.

TV on the Radio:

This was one of the sets I was looking forward to this weekend and it did not let me down.  I’m not afraid to confess my love for TVOTR: they are one of my favorite bands and they probably always will be.  This marked the fourth time I had seen them, and yet again they put on a show unlike any of theirs I saw previously.  They kept things relatively mellow to an extent, opening with “Love Dog” and “Wrong Way” before launching into “Golden Age.”  “Wolf Like Me” was a crown pleaser as usual, but following it with “Red Dress” was the highlight for me.  They toned down the rapping a bit on “Dancing Choose,” which was an interesting yet cool choice, and closed with “Staring at the Sun.”  Tunde dressed in all white and wiggled across the stage per usual, while Kyp braved the sweltering heat in a neon flannel and whaled on a white-on-white Gibson SG, possibly the coolest looking guitar I have ever seen.

Ben Harper:

Ben Harper was not on my list of acts to see, and in fact was playing at the same time as Animal Collective, who I REALLY wanted to catch.  While leaving TVOTR, however, we had to go past his stage on the way to the south side of the field to catch the second half of AC’s set and settle in for Tool.  As we were walking by he blasted into a cover of Zeppelin’s “Good Times, Bad Times” though, so we were compelled to stay and watch that.  Needless to say they absolutely nailed it and then followed it by covering – wait for it – Jimi.  He nailed that one too (the song was “Red House”) and as he finished that up we were on our way, stopping for more drinks as we walked.

Animal Collective:

Given the massive size of the festival and the throngs of fans making their way to the Tool stage, it took us literally forever to get to the south end.  By the time we made it there Animal Collective was nearly done with their set.  We strolled up as they were halfway through “Lablakely Dress” but were lucky enough to catch them play “Fireworks” in its entirety.  They sounded amazing and I was sad that I missed so much of their performance, but these are the kinds of things that happen at festivals of this size.  They closed with “Brothersport,” which ended up being loudly upended by Tool’s determination to start exactly on time.

Tool:

I’m not a huge fan of Tool, but I have always appreciated them in a strange way and know a lot of their songs.  That combined with the fact that I wasn’t about to trudge all the way back across the festival just for Yeah Yeah Yeahs made my decision pretty easy.  The one thing that I must say about their set is that it was LOUD!  We were quite far from the stage, and each song pummeled my eardrums with the force of a hurricane.  I can’t imagine the aural assault the folks near the front must have endured.  They kept the set pretty basic; focusing mainly on the songs that everyone in the crowd was familiar with.  They ripped through classics such as “Stinkfist,” Forty-Six & Two,” “Schism,” Aenema,” and “Lateralus” with ease and precision.  Their crown was one of the largest I have ever seen at one stage in all my years of attending Lollapalooza, and I imagine all of them left fairly satisfied.

Gaslight Anthem – Double Door after-show:

After Tool a smaller group of us hopped a train and headed north to Wicker Park for the Gaslight Anthem after-show at Double Door.  By the time we were in and the band took the stage, I was a liter of vodka and three Natural Lights into the night.  My memory of their set is on the hazy side, but I do remember thinking that they rocked my face off as we left.  Like some other bands of the weekend, I didn’t expect a lot from this show but was proven way wrong.  Maybe it was the alcohol or the small size of the club, but the band absolutely slayed.  They ripped through nearly all the songs on their 2008 album The 59’ Sound and did so with authority.  It was one of those shows where, about halfway through, you start to think that every song must be the closer.  Not because they had been playing for a long time, but because you wonder how they can possibly top the last song they played.  Then I got some pizza and went home.

DAY THREE:

Kaiser Chiefs:

I didn’t watch Kaiser Chiefs so much as they were my entrance music.  After two days of booze, rain, and extreme heat I was moving a little slow on Sunday.  I missed Portugal. The Man, which sucks considering they were probably the best band in the lineup that day, but at least I made it eventually.  Hearing Kaiser Chiefs reminded me of the first Lolla in Chicago, when the singer was climbing the scaffolding that held up the stage.  Not sure if they played “I Predict a Riot” or not, but they closed with “Oh My God.”  That was around the time I started drinking.

The Raveonettes:

I was pretty far from the stage while The Raveonettes played, but the set sounded good.  I used to be really into them but I haven’t paid much attention to their last two records.  I didn’t hear a lot of my old favorites so I am guessing they focused more on newer material.  My friends and I chatted about the one time we hung out with them at a bar in Wicker Park when they played Double Door on the Pretty in Black tour.  They were pretty cool people and they wore cardigans.  That’s all I got, sorry.  I do have a demo from their soon to be released album available for you, however.

The Raveonettes – Boys Who Rape (Demo)

Neko Case:

All I have to say is that Neko was looking extremely hot.  I’m not a big fan of her solo material, but the set sounded great and she was very engaging on stage.  The sexy red curls and little black dress weren’t bad either.

Neko Case – People Got a Lotta Nerve

Dan Auerbach:

This was probably the first set of the day that I really got into.  I have always liked Dan Auerbach as part of The Black Keys, but I find that I actually like his solo material better than any the Keys’ records.  I’m probably in the minority there, but I just love the dirtier sound and the heaps of Americana that he lays down on his own.  Joined on stage by My Morning Jacket drummer Patrick Hallahan and a host of others, Auerbach laid down a blistering set from his solo debut Keep It Hid.  It is almost amazing how different this material is while still being so closely related to his previous work, but it really comes across in a live setting.  This difference extends to Dan’s personal appearance, with the long hair and t-shirt look stepping aside in favor of a full-on mountain man persona complete with beard and western shirt.  The only downside to the set was a lack of material to play, which led to him finishing up about ten minutes early.

Dan Auerbach – Trouble Weighs a Ton

Lou Reed:

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Lou Reed, but I knew it would be interesting and I was correct.  A noted perfectionist, Lou took the stage about twenty minutes late after his crew took care to go through a thorough sound check, leaving the audience wondering how such a situation would play out at a rigidly scheduled festival.  After the delay Reed and his band opened with “Sweet Jane” and worked their way through a restrained set of standards.  The highlight was a feedback explosion through “Paranoia in the Key of E” that recalled his Velvet Underground days and represented the only experimentalism to be found in the set.  Right around there was where the set should have ended, but despite the late start Reed seemed to insist on playing for his full hour and continued on for two more songs.  As “Waiting for the Man” (appropriately) began, Band of Horses was scheduled to begin on the opposite stage.  After ten minutes the song ended and Reed began yet another track, closing with the classic “Walk on the Wild Side.”  At this point throngs of hipsters who had began to leave, certain that he couldn’t play another one, rushed back to the stage.  By the time it was all done they had gone twenty minutes into Band of Horses’ set and set the stage for some Lolla drama to come.

Band of Horses:

With Band of Horse starting so late, Jane’s Addiction set to follow as the festival headliners and fronted by the festival’s founder, and a strict mandate that the event must end before 10PM, it was almost certain that BOH would abbreviate their set to accommodate the schedule that Lou Reed completely fucked up.  Things started out pretty normal, with the band playing a pretty standard set of material from their two studio albums.  As things started to wind down and Jane’s Addiction’s slot neared, BOH was into “No Ones Gonna Love You” and much of the crowd assumed they were winding down.  When they followed that with the natural closer “The Funeral” most suspected that all would be fine in the Lolla world.  With a dramatic entrance complete with a helicopter planned, there was no way they would cut in to Perry’s finale, right?  Wrong.  As the final notes on “The Funeral” played, lights went down on the main stage and the bass line and helicopter soundtrack began.  As a giant spotlight pointed skyward and Jane’s got into swing, the helicopter hovered feet above the crowd and Perry erupted onto the stage.  The only problem was that Band of Horses was still playing and despite the crowd telling them to stop they belted out three more songs.  As a result nobody could hear either act, and I’m pretty sure nobody, especially Perry, was very happy about that.

Jane’s Addiction:

By way of being much closer to the main stage, I was actually able to hear that Perry’s entrance song was “Up the Beach,” but that didn’t change the fact that Band of Horses had essentially ruined the grand entrance that Jane’s Addiction had been planning for their set.  And what angered me the most was that my favorite Jane’s song, “Mountain Song,” was half obstructed by some disrespectful bearded hipster playing on the stage behind me.  It wasn’t until twenty minutes in that they finally stopped, just in time for “Whores.”  Conflict aside, Jane’s Addiction put on one hell of a show, seemingly still in the prime of their early days.  Dave Navarro was abusing his white Ibanez while Perry worked the crowd the way only he can, asking us all to “reach deep in our pussies and cocks.”  The set rolled through staples like “Been Caught Stealing” and “Ocean Size” before briefly running off to prepare for the encore.  When the band reemerged they were joined by Aerosmith’s Joe Perry on guitar for “Jane Says,” the final song of the weekend.

All in all it was another awesome Lollapalooza weekend in Chicago.  As the festival ends each year I am always overcome by a host of emotions.  On one hand I am drunk, exhausted, and near death, glad for the whole thing to be over.  On the other I know that by the time I wake up on Monday I will feel something pulling me to Grant Park for more music and fun, longing for next year’s event that seems forever away.  This year was no exception, and if nothing else I know where I’ll be from August 6-8 in 2010.

The dark and dusty Grog Shop venue was an excellent location for their set.  Their WWI-era pump organ sat like a rickety enigma on the stage and the thick dark paint on the walls set the mood for a pretty magical set.  The trio, first of all, comes in dressed like coal miners from America’s grittier and labor-intensive days and all shenanigans aside, they completely pull it off in hipster smart-guy fashion.  Bassist/Drummer/Jack-of-All Trades Jeff Prystowsky is musical confidence personified as he rotates back and forth through just about every instrument on the stage.  Likewise, frontman Ben Knox Miller’s raggedy hat and dusty trousers go hand in hand with all of the Americana descriptions the music receives.  On the appearance front, these three have it all.  Jocie Adams contemplatively wails on the clarinet and her juxtaposing fragility and musical talent is jarring in a live performance.

The pump organ swelled with the opener, “To the Ghosts Who Write History Books,” one of my favorite songs off of OMGCD.  Fittingly, this track requires no chit-chat or noise in the building.  The Grog Shop fans complied completely.  Other than the music, only a faint whisper or occasional cough were the only sounds in the opener.  It’s difficult to pinpoint what the difference between live and recorded material is, but the trio seems to just dive right in live.  The obviously complex and artistic arrangements aren’t nicely translated into a live setting but they manage to still unleash a sonorous and roomful of beauty with minimal instrumentation.  Brushed cymbals, organs, clarinets, bowed chimes (for lack of a better name), wood blocks, harmonica and mild acoustic is pretty much the standard.  To put it blunty, they put their audience in a trance.  They’re Ivy League educated and the influences in the music are abundant.  One second it’s like you’re thrust into an early 19th century pub anthem, and the next you’re weeping through an emotional slave spritual.   They’re not pulling from one arena and this is entirely captured live.  They played “Charlie Darwin” in B-Flat and Miller still managed to belt it out and send chills down my arms.  I didn’t write down the particular track, but at one point, Miller pulled out two cell phones and held them up to the microphone.  His subsequent singing into one of the phones created a magical digital swirl of sound echoing from the two phones.  Not only did this stun the audience, but left everyone entirely aware of how talented the three are musically.

Interestingly, the band steered clear of the more raucous material on the album, offering about 10 songs with deeply enigmatic power.  “Ticket Taker” wound up being as stellar as I thought it would be, as it’s really the best Americana folk song I’ve heard all year on record.  When they dropped into “Cage the Songbird” the audience was fully involved, and I was proud of my Cleveland concert-goers tonight.  Sometimes I’m known to bash the tardiness or lackluster attendance my city produces when great bands tour through our town.  However, I was impressed that we showed up in fine fetter, singing the tunes out loud and having a good time.  They closed with “Cigarettes and Whiskey” which I believe is covered by everyone from Jim Croce to The Muppets, but the heartfelt moment of the night was when they launched into “To Ohio.”  Miller joked just before they began, “Everywhere else in the country, this has this incredible exotic appeal, sort of like, ‘what is this place?’ Well, here we are. We’ve never done this one before.”  I cocked my ears back and heard Clevelanders singing in unison with Miller and it was an amazing experience.  The bandmates smiled all the way through the song and left, for at least a second, the more cerebral and contemplative mode for just this track.  Hopefully in the MP3 version, you’ll at least be able to capture a little of the aura we caught.  Stellar.  You’re probably not going to hear that version live too often.  If you’re anywhere within a 100 miles of a live show, make sure to gas up and drive fast.  As a fan, I don’t have much of a critique here.  I was seven beers deep by the time they hit the stage, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.  If these guys are new to you, make sure to buy the album immediately, as well.  You’re missing a grand narrative of sound if you skip it.  We have MP3 recordings of “To Ohio” as mentioned, but also a great version of “Ticket Taker.”  Our version of “To The Ghosts Who Write History Books” starts off a little fragmented and then ends up well. Enjoy ‘em.

The Low Anthem – To Ohio (Live from Grog Shop)

The Low Anthem – Ticket Taker (Live from Grog Shop)

The Low Anthem – To The Ghosts Who Write History Books (Live from Grog Shop)

And, as we always try, we got the setlist.  Judging from the scribbles on the list, you can tell they think things through thoroughly.  We’re so, so glad they did for us on Wednesday.

(Editor’s note:  We wore earplugs to the show this evening.  We were expecting a full on aural assault, given the sheer volume of The Warlocks recorded output, assumed there would be a significant amount of tympanum-shattering distortion (there was) and were feeling the full weight of our status as tetriagenarians.  It’s the first time that we’ve gone into a gig with our ears artificially steeled.  We walk out fully willing to tell you, dear reader, that Pete Townshend is right. Our enjoyment was not tempered a bit.  Rather, we were able to place ourselves fully in the center of all the bands’ feedback laced attack with no fear of tinnitus.  I, for one, will be going to everything that isn’t a twee folk show with rubber in my earholes.  And I won’t feel like a pussy either.)

Doors opened at 8, while the concert started promptly at 10 something and ended at 1 am.  (Maybe all the bitching Kevin’s done about starting things at a reasonable hour  has done some good.) That said, it seemed like the show went by in a blink of an eye. You know that’s a good thing.  We sat through about an hour of down time when we entered the Grog Shop and the venue had a calm before the storm feel to it.  The first two bands were well-suited to open for The Warlocks.  Both bands had powerful stage presence, that, paired with a certain similarity in sound, led to smooth transitions from group to group.

The first set of the night came courtesy of The Vandelles, the perfect cure for a case of post french onion soup sluggishness. The big beat driven Brooklyn based band didn‘t waste any time getting the Cleveland Heights crowd amped for a night of top notch rock n’ roll. The Vandelles’ sound fit right in with the Caveman Rock vibe of the Bobby Hecksher lead  headliner with songs like ”Lovely Weather” and the surf rock flavored “Bad Volcano”. They tore through their 7 or 8 song set with enough energy collectively to put Iggy Pop in check. Once The Vandelles took the stage they crushed us with thumping bass lines, powerful fuzzed out guitar arrangements, and delicious harmonies. Watching Suzanne (known withing the bans as Gidget for some reason) pummel the skins with such a high level of ferocity was worth the $12 on it’s own. If you find yourself a bit sluggish when these guys come to town, I guarantee if you have enough energy to make it to the show, the band will take care of the rest.

The Morning After Girls were next on the bill. Sacha Lucashenko and Martin Sleeman, recent transplants from Australia to NYC, shared vocal duties on most of the songs.  Both offered melodious, gentle deliveries, periodically trading a soft whispered voice, with a clear confident one in songs like “The General Public” and “Hidden Spaces”.  Anthony Johnson attacked his drum set from the comfort of his stool and occasionally used the law of gravity to his advantage (the dude got air, I like when drummers got hops).The Morning After Girls came out swinging with their brand of dreamy psychedelic rock, immersing the crowd in a soothing haze of tranquilizing sound during “Chasing Us Under”.  The guys also blasted the audience with the borderline anthemic guitar lick loaded “Alone” and “Shadows Evolve”.  At one point the band commented on how the other groups on tour helped them out when they were in a bind and were very pleased to be on tour with such good people, which is nice to see.

We’ve talked a lot in recent weeks about art and the realtionship that the artist is forced to form with the audience.  Kevin’s talked about the importance of the audience and the band’s perception thereof as a kind of critical lynchpin.  Justin’s talked about the things that happen when a band is unable to connect with an audience.  I’ve often taken the stance that art ought to exist outside of any audience, that the act of creation is enough.  Strangely, The Warlocks set on Saturday served as an intersection of many of those ideas.  The Warlocks play music in a way that implies that either they think no one is watching or, perhaps more interestingly, they don’t give a shit if anyone is.  The band plays in front of spacey films (a widening gyre, rapidly rotating french words, a white horse), drenches every tune in waves of distortion, routes all vocals through a serious bit of machinery, hammers on the big hollow bodies, eliciting shrieks and howls, and, in general, acts as though the set is taking place in The Village in 1969 without a trace of irony or distant self-awareness.  The Warlocks are real.

The set can be, to a degree, encapsulated in the next to last track that the band laced into, “Song for Nico” from the 2001 release Rise and Fall.  After the gig, guitarist John Christian Rees passed along that the band doesn’t play it all that often in clubs, generally reserving it for record shops and other slightly quieter venues.  Happily, The Warlocks favored the Grog Shop with the tune on Saturday and, perhaps inadvertently, gave a fairly bold statement on what sort of thing they’re about.  Look.  Let’s be frank.  It’s not a lot of acts that can pull off a song that so overtly references The Velvet Underground and not come off as either backwards-looking weirdos or idol-worshiping lames.  The Warlocks, however, have the chops, sonic approach and attitude to make a tune like “Song for Nico” make sense.  It was a transcendent moment live and one which forced the crowd to accept that, while Bobby Hecksher isn’t Lou Reed circa 1968 , he’s about as close as we’re going to get in the twenty-first century.  (Give me a break with that Berlin shit.)  This is a band that’s about visceral emotiveness, kicking faces with pomp and reverb, and, in short, selling the songs.  (Not in a cheap comercialist sense, but in the what makes a live act a live act sense.)

The set was more about the feeling that I tried to describe above than anything as concrete as individual songs.  The band blended most tunes together with a hellacious bit of feedback and knob spinning, keeping the set in a perpetually re-inventing flow.  There were moments that stood out from the ether (the serious stomp of “Caveman Rock,” and the melodious rush of “Red Camera” both spring to mind), but, for the most part, the gig was about the willingness of the band to dive headfirst into the atmosphere and emerge with a bloody maw full of rock.  I’d have bet you a billion dollars that I wouldn’t see a band attempt the Jefferson Airplane-esque cinematic backdrop in 2009 and both pull it off and have me buy in whole-heartedly, but The Warlocks hit that trick with ease.  It was a set of throwback psych rock that made me feel like a pure listener.  Shit was good.  Go see this band if they get close.

Lastly, you know that we grab setlists.  That’s just how we do.  Tonight, we’ll hit you with a double bill, as we snagged both The Warlocks’ (on the right) and The Morning After Girls ‘ (on the left) codifications of what they were going to do.  The best part of either is clearly the bit on The Warlocks set labeled, simply, “Feedback Drone.”  In practice, this turns out to be ten minutes of so of the quintet eking out otherworldly noise that’s both wildly impressionistic and oddly tuneful.  Word.

I didn’t manage to snag any audio tonight, at least partially because I thought my recording device might spontaneously combust from too much input, so enjoy a track from the stellar Heavy Deavy Skull Lover and the aforementioned “Song for Nico.”

The Warlocks – Moving Mountains

The Warlocks – Song for Nico

Snag The Warlocks at insound.

Likewise, The Horse’s Ha were a tired band of troubadours. They had driven in from New York, following a three night stand there, which itself had been prefaced by touring elsewhere throughout the middle-eastern corridor of the country. For the band, Cleveland was the last stop of the hectic travel schedule and it was plain to see that some members of the band were struggling with looking forward to the light at the end of the tour’s tunnel rather than focusing on that one last evening ahead.

Dynamics like these, when occurring together, can occasionally yield surprisingly intimate performances that participants on both sides of the stage come away from more than a little amazed. More often, though, these dynamics work together to create a situation where you find a spartan and timid  audience passively listening to an exhausted and aloof performance. To be in the room and feel the various moments of tension, to see empty chairs outnumber those occupied nearly 3 to 1, it was impossible to avoid being taken out of the moment, to not feel a touch of alienation. Add in the increasingly warm physical environment – the result of the venue’s poor managerial decision to turn off the air conditioning earlier in the evening – and the unhappy stage was set.

This is ultimately most disappointing because, given the opportunity to listen to a quality recording of the night’s performance, I think most objective and informed listeners would say the Cleveland show was a treat. The band played a brief set of seven songs, including four from their recent album Of the Cathmawr Yards and three newer tunes, and the sound was consistently moving and morose and magical. The primary instrumentalists – Jim Elkington on acoustic guitar (as well as vocals), Nick Macri on upright bass, and drummer Charles Rumback (cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm was unable to attend the show) – were consistently tight and impossibly lush, given the minimalistic arrangements, and while lead vocalist Janet Bean alternated between playing mandola, melodica, and shakers, her vocals were true and full throughout the set.

The set began with two songs from the album, “Plumb” and “Asleep in a Waterfall,” and as Bean and Elkington started singing the opening lyrics (“Once I dreamt my woodcut did speak …”) I immediately remembered what made me love the Of the Cathmawr Yards album in the first place. When singing, Bean’s effort is captivating, all concentration and effort, and both Elkington’s tenor voice and acoustic guitar is patient and composed. There was something missing, given Lonberg-Holm’s absence, but Macri and Rumback were more than solid in their roles.

Unfortunately, when the music stopped, all the good will built up during the songs would be dashed away with repeated and belabored jokes about the size of the crowd, from sarcastic references to the show being “intimate” and a “workshop” to Bean’s self-sorry wondering about where the band developed their talent to drive everyone in an audience away. At this point, even Elkington said something like, “Now, now Janet – that’s not fair,” but the mood was set, and during nearly every song break the audience was treated to more complaining, most always from Bean. (Although in Bean’s defense, at one point she did compliment the sausage-making prowess of Cleveland Slovenians, saying it was the best she’d ever had. Not only the best Slovenian sausage, but the best sausage period. That’s something, anyway.)

Still, when The Horse’s Ha played, on new songs like “Ole Stole” and “Witchfinder” and the lengthy ballad “Bonesetter,” the audience was rapt, and when the band completed each tune, the audience clapped within reason. On more familiar songs, like “Piss Choir” and especially “Map the Stars,” the audience listened like a toddler being read his or her favorite book for the hundredth time, engaged, familiar, and content. The Horse’s Ha is not a band you are going to throw out devil horns to or scream out rebel yells, and the only difference between the audience the band had versus the one they apparently wanted was louder clapping. Song after song, I found myself returning to an old aphorism I’ve heard innumerable musicians reference in one form or another: Play for the audience you have, not the one you don’t. Each time I thought about it during the show, on the drive home, and today while I prepared this review, I tried to decide how I felt about the show’s poor attendance. On one hand, I can understand why it would be disappointing and upsetting for a band to come through a town and find a smaller and perhaps quieter audience than they hoped for; on the other, it doesn’t make a lot of sense or win a lot of friends to continue jabbing the eyeballs of the supporters who did attend. I can only imagine how differently it all would have gone, had they opted for taking a page out of David Eugene Edwards of 16 Horsepower and Woven Hand’s book, saying sincerely “thank you for clapping” after each song and moving  on to the next, rather than offering faux congratulations to those in attendance for alternately being “discerning” and “wise” and “the smartest people in Cleveland,” simply for appreciating the band’s presence.

Still, those in the audience that stayed throughout the set seemed more impressed by the musical performance than dismayed by the on-stage pouting, and members of the band were besieged by fans after the set ended with requests for autographs and answers for music-related questions. I had the opportunity to chat for a few minutes with bass player Macri and then guitarist Elkington, and both were kind and funny gentlemen. As I said goodbye and thank you for playing on my way to the exit, Bean grabbed my hand and said something nice. Even in the minute or so we spoke, it was clear that she is ordinarily a lovely person, and obviously an immense talent.

Still, the night was marred by events extraneous to the core performance on stage – a too-hot room, a too-small crowd, a t00-tired and too-disappointed band. However, The Horse’s Ha remain purveyors of beauty and I, for one, will be in the room again when they make their next trip to Cleveland. I’ll just hope it isn’t on a summery Sunday night, that the climate control is appropriately set, and that Lonberg-Holm is free that evening.

(Editor’s note:   Brand new dick Justin absolutely killed his first live review for us yesterday.  As such, I’m feeling more than a little bit of performance anxiety.  James and Kevin and I have kind of grown up together on the internet and then new guy comes in and shoots his first two posts into the stratosphere.  I feel a tad like Candy Maldonado must have felt the first time he saw Manny Ramirez take a few hacks.  That said, I’m going to try to step my game up.  The Builders and the Butchers absolutely slayed in Cleveland last night and the only way I can start to organize my thoughts on the show is by throwing a bulleted list at you.  This might be hacky or gimmicky, but I don’t give a shit.  It’s an organizational crutch for me and I’m going to lean on it.  Wanna judge?  Start your own blog.  (On second thought, just flame me out in the comments.  And, yes, I went parenthetical inside of parenthetical.))

1. The show was on a Monday in a town the band had never played before. I believe it was the classical poet Bob Geldof who wrote “I don’t like Mondays.”  Dude was right.  I do the teaching thing, so I’m not really qualified to speak on this matter in the summer, but it seems that peeps are reluctant to shell out dough on a work night.  Throw in the fact that The Builders and the Butchers have never made a stop in Cleveland and you might expect a minimalist turnout and a certain lack of enthusiasm. Happily, the crowd at the Beachland last night was both invested and engaged.  The floor was shaking, hands were clapping and lyrics were being hollered with wild abandon.  You know how we roll in Cleveland: we can be stand-offish, churlish, distant.  The Builders and the Butchers had folks hooked from the first note they played.  They slammed the foot on the gas for “Devil Town” and didn’t really glance in the rear view for the rest of the night.  On record, the inclination is to slap the “alt-folk” label on these fellows.  Live, they play like a punk band:  full of verve and sass, with stage presence out the ass.  Much of the gig seemed like a Friday night in the band’s hometown, rather than a dreary weekday in a place they’d never been.  That sort of trick reeks of a wildly acute live act.

2. The Builders and the Butchers are both clever and wildly technical. Robert and I had the chance to rap with mandolin/banjo/vocalist Harvey before the gig.  Dude was laying down jokey-jokes like it was open mic night.  A sample:

Q:  Where’s Engagement, Ohio?

A:  Between Marion and Dayton.  (rimshot)

This sort of freewheelin’ looseness permeated much of the show.  Dudes were not so serious that they were afraid to laugh at the occasional smart ass comment from the crowd, play a plastic panda bear shaker or throw in a bizarre 80s metal tease now and again.  That jocularity served to temper the band’s serious musicianship. making them seem both personable and high-flying.  (Let’s be honest.  You know how Jeff Tweedy rolls?  Serious as a heart attack all the time, as in, “this is my art, shut your hole and receive my craft.”  That’s off-putting, right?)  The Builders and the Butchers both know that they’re talented and have the brass to be cool about it.  Maybe the most interesting thing about the band live is that they have two drummers playing (more or less) one kit.  This allows for all sorts of wild poly-rhythms and serious dramatic crescendos.  It also typifies that the band is not about simplicity.  The songs are occasionally direct, but their performance is both nuanced and powerful.  It’s the rare act that can replicate studio wizardry live.  The Builders and the Butchers hit that one pitch perfect.

3. To a large degree, The Builders and the Butchers are about emotive organicness.  (That might well be a neologism.  Kiss my ass.) The number of things that the percussionists did on stage was wicked.  Dudes had tambourines strapped to their feet and byzantine shakers wrapped around their knees (evidence of the latter, and a melodica is in the photgraph below).  This is important.  Every time one of them moved, noise happened.  Tap a toe, crazy shaker sound.  Move a leg, tambourine clang.  This sort of thing lent an air of organic spontaneity to the show that was refreshing.  Add in the soaring four part harmonies (you know how that kind of thing gets me going) and the band’s willingness to get folks clapping and you’ve got a live act that sounds like a live act.  That sounds idiotically redundant, but we’ve all been to shows that are bland regurgitations of recorded material.  The Builders and the Butchers throw so many things at the audience that a feeling of authenticity emerges.  (Fuck that Hipster Runoff dude.  “Autenticity” is a real thing which ought to be strived for.)  The show feels like a new creation: people in a room forcing things to emerge from the ether in a collaborative fashion.  Powerful stuff.  This is why we love music, right?

4. The Builders and the Butchers remind me of bands that are important (and I don’t go to that place often). On songs like “Bottom of the Lake” they sound like Hallowed Ground period Violent Femmes.  (Two sidebars:  1. Harvey confirmed that the band knows and loves that record.  They used to cover “Country Death Song.”  I would have shit a gold brick if they’d broken that out tonight.  2. It takes a lot for me to say that somebody reminds me of the Femmes.  I’ve got a vault post brewing on Mr. Gano and the boys, but, suffice it to say, they’ve informed a lot of the way that I think about music.)  On songs like “When It Rains” they sound like The Pogues.  They lay down a “1,2,3,4,” that would make Shane MacGowan blush.  (Think “Wild Cats of Kilkenny” minus the brogue and the flute and you’re in the ballpark.)  It’s not a lot of live acts that are going to conjure those two bands to the mind.  There were a ton of moments that stood out over the course of the evening, many of which reinforced the notion that The Builders and the Butchers are treading in some very large footprints.  “Take the Train” played as a wildly drunken blues track, forcing singing along.  “Black Elevator” might be the darkest song I’ve heard in a minute performed with such gusto.  This is a band that understands the force of their predecessors and takes the helm gladly.

5.  It takes a lot to penetrate my ironic distance, but The Builders and the Butchers gave me legitimate goosebumps this evening. This is really where the rubber meets the road.  As the set concluded, Harvey pulled the boys in, mumbled something of importance and then strode of the stage.  Frontman Ryan Sollee followed him off and the duo began playing a simple melody at the foot of the bar.  (Full dislosure:  it’s not a song I recognized, which might mean it’s from their first record with which I am largely unfamiliar.  My inclination, however, is that the tune was either a traditional folk song or a hymn of some sort.)  The duo encouraged the crowd to clap and sing along with the simple yet powerful refrain:  “Find me oh find me, find me oh find me, in the air lord, in the air.”  The rest of the band joined Harvey and Ryan with their voices and a tambourine or two.  At this point, the crowd was locked in, tent-revival style, clapping and singing with unity and strength.  Then the band led the crowd outside.  The stout souls still in attendance joined the band on the Collinwood sidewalk and raised their voices to the sky, communing in something real and moving.  I’m typing and (I shit you not) I’m welling up.  It was a moment I’ll cherish as a music fan and as a human for a good long while.  Luckily for you, dear reader, Rob had the prescience to capture the moment on film.  Watch it, then hit replay.  (To reiterate the idea that the band is the opposite of self-serious, after throwing this nearly spiritual moment at the crowd, Sollee declaims, “Let’s go inside and drink more.”)  Good times.

Click here to view the embedded video.

6. If they come anywhere near you and you don’t go, you are going to hate yourself. This one speaks for itself.  We’ve seen a ton of good shows in Cleveland this summer, but this one is damn near at the top of the list.  The Builders and the Butchers are all over the country in the next month or so and you owe it to yourself to go.  If you need more convincing, we’ve got a kicking live cut and another video (“Bottom of the Lake”) below.  The rest of the show was as good or better.  Worth ten bucks?  Indeed.

The Builders and the Buthchers – Spanish Death Song – Live at the Beachland

Click here to view the embedded video.

Oh.  And.  We get the setlist.  That’s just how we roll.

Minutes later, though, I learned that was not the case – Cleveland’s art school finest had turned out en masse, many carrying with them delectable-looking baked goods. My friend and I greeted one another, shared a shrug at the length of the line, and then made our way back to its end. When we finally got into the venue, after checking in with the door guy, we found The Octopus Project’s Josh Lambert near the merch table and set up a quick interview. As Josh went to find other members of the band, we headed to the debris and hipster-strewn steps outside. Soon Lambert emerged with two of his bandmates, Toto Miranda and Ryan Figg.

Ordinarily, at this point I would mention the instrumentation of each band member. With Austin-based instrumental indie-electronica band The Octopus Project, however, such description is difficult. Indeed, just about every member of the band plays just about every instrument, with switches occurring between (and often during!) every song. Generally, though, Lambert mans the lead guitar on most tracks, Miranda handles drum duties on most, and Figg holds down the bass. Unfortunately, the fourth member of the band, Yvonne Lambert, was unable to join us outside. Though it was disappointing that her voice wasn’t in our conversation, in a backwards way it made my job as scribe easier, as I wouldn’t know where to begin describing her role. Yvonne seems to play every instrument known to man, and some possibly unknown, switching comfortably from synthesizer to glockenspiel to the audience-enthralling theremin.

Even without Yvonne present in our huddle, we faced no shortage of things to discuss, and our conversation with the band moved swiftly through topics including whether their house is really haunted (it isn’t), their collaborative efforts with bands such as … And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead and Black Moth Super Rainbow, their “Visual Music” project of live scoring short films, the band’s tumultuous experience filming a video for their new Golden Beds EP off the coast of hurricane-ravaged Galveston TX, and their role in the diverse and exciting Austin music scene. We also learned that this show was the fifth set the group had played in Cleveland in less than two years, with the three previous shows coming within a single 12 week stretch.

As the members of the band discussed their views toward art and music it became abundantly clear the value each individual placed on diversity and complexity, emphases just as evident in their aforementioned collaborations and multi-media experiments as it was in the sound and spectacle the band brought to the stage. The Octopus Project played among a handful of giant lit bunny rabbit ghosts, with psychedelic cartoons and strange documentary footage projected onto a screen backdrop. Unlike the t-shirts and jeans the fellas were wearing during our pre-show conversation, the men in the group took the stage in shirtsleeves and ties while Yvonne Lambert donned a vintage dress that went perfectly with her adorable short bangs/flipped up in the back haircut.

Immediately the crowd gravitated to the stage and the sound coming from it, and for the next hour the band ripped through a selection of standards from previous albums and a healthy mix of tracks from Golden Beds (which, incidentally, will be released tomorrow). If the crowd response at the Grog Shop is any indication, this new EP should receive an enthusiastic embrace, for while the energy in the room never declined from the set’s start to its conclusion, show-goers were clearly most revved up for the new tunes, particularly “Wet Gold” and “Rorol.”

All four members of the band were hitting on all cylinders, but the sonic diffusion between Yvonne Lambert and Toto Miranda struck me as the single most engaging dynamic. The audience seemed to respond in kind as well, with things reaching fever pitch as Miranda’s drumming became heavier and more frenetic, while their attention became rapt and engrossed, much like a small child being read a nursery tale, whenever Yvonne created magic with her Moog theremin.

Just when you wondered how much more excitement could be wrung out of a crowd late on a Sunday night, the band wrapped things up with an up-beat closer and an immediate encore, including new single “Wood Trumpet.” As the members each said their thank yous to the crowd, Josh Lambert announced that the band would be over “by the merch” if anyone wanted to say hi. As my friend and I headed to the exit, we noticed a new line forming in that back annex, precisely where we had earlier found Josh standing alone. Clearly, The Octopus Project was not going to get out of the Grog Shop any time soon.

The Octopus Project – Wet Gold