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Williamsburg: Amazing Baby vs. Savoir Adore

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Courtesy of Amazing BabyPsychedelic indie act Amazing Baby has been in existence for less than two years. In that time, they’ve signed a record deal, filmed a video with naked hipster babes, rode a giant wave of blog hype, and partied with Bill Murray, who saw one of their shows and recruited them to help him find the fountain of youth.

Savoir Adore, meanwhile, arrived on the scene with just as much talent but far less razzle-dazzle. Though, like Amazing Baby, they hail from that mecca of artsy privilege, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, their irrepressibly giddy, pure pop tunes haven’t set the buzz machine in motion for some reason. While plenty of folks have fallen for their album In the Wooded Forest, the Fader profiles, groupies, and movie star camaraderie have been slow in coming.

Both groups have benefited from ties to MGMT, the psych-rock outfit that found worldwide success last year. Savoir Adore signed with Cantora, the indie label that released MGMT’s 2005 Time to Pretend EP, while Amazing Baby’s guitarist Simon O’Connor palled around with MGMT’s Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser at Wesleyan College, itself something of an indie music farm system.

O’Connor and Amazing Baby’s other founding member, lead singer Will Roan, met each other after their college bands were booked together for a New York show. “I think I was hooking up with the same girl at the same time as someone in Simon’s band,” says Roan, adding that he’s fairly certain it wasn’t O’Connor.

They played a number of shows together, and after O’Connor graduated, he moved into a pad in Brooklyn, where Roan would crash whenever he came down for the weekend during his final year at Bard College. The pair began collaborating on various band projects and later worked together in a music distribution office, where their duties included crafting ringtones. In 2008, they formed Amazing Baby, focusing on a studio-centric sound that included layer upon layer of percussion, guitar, and keyboards. Their live shows, meanwhile, featured as many as 10 people on stage at a time, and early praise for the group was swift and unequivocal. “I think people liked the spectacle of this crazy band,” Roan says. Eventually, the lineup was rounded out with bassist Don Devore, guitarist Rob Laakso, and drummer Matt Abeysekera.

After releasing an EP called Infinite Fucking Cross last summer, they were pursued by a number of labels and ultimately signed with Shangri-La, who put out their full-length debut, Rewild, in June. Many of the reviews focused on the album’s seemingly hallucinogenic-powered prog, psych, and goth rock, as well as the group’s hipster aesthetic. Some of this had to do with their video for Rewild track “Headdress”, which featured topless girls, wearing paint and capes, prancing around in the woods.

Then there was the encounter with Bill Murray, who dropped in on their 2008 Halloween show wearing a rubber mask with black glasses. He and Roan hung out all night long, attending a house party, smoking cigarettes on a roof, and drinking bourbon on a friend’s couch. Notes Roan: “It’s one of the few stories I can tell where my mom is jealous.”

Savoir Adore’s story is far less flashy. Principal members Paul Hammer and Deidre Muro met while students at NYU, where Hammer played in a group catering to “sorority girls,” he says. Both possessing musical backgrounds, they decided to play a show together and then later conceived an album almost spontaneously. While on a train ride to visit Hammer’s parents at their home in a bucolic section of Holmes, New York, Hammer and Muro brainstormed the plot for what would become their first EP, The Adventures of Mr. Pumpernickel and the Girl with Animals in Her Throat. A concept record focusing on a professor and his meetings with a troubled student and a fairy who lives among the trees, it showcased the pair’s great talents for collaboration. Taking turns on vocals and instruments, they introduced the harmony-heavy, ever-sincere fantasy pop that would become their signature sound.

They return regularly to Holmes, where Hammer’s father Jan—a jazz and rock Courtesy of Savoir Adorekeyboardist who was enormously popular in the ’70s and ’80s and crafted the Miami Vice theme song—has a studio. Savoir Adore recorded In the Wooded Forest there, trading off on guitar, drums, and bass for hours at Hammer’s studio, which actually is ensconced in the middle of a wooded forest. While successfully employing a sound that suits their strengths, the full-length lacks a unified storyline like their EP, but boasts more fleshed-out tracks. At times, the preciousness can be a bit overwhelming, but songs on the album like “MERP” and “Early Bird” are as euphoric and hummable as anything to come out of Williamsburg this past year.

Their work seems not to contain an ounce of pretension. Savoir Adore certainly isn’t trying to impress anyone with their cool, and their seeming lack of self-consciousness is responsible for much of their appeal.

Amazing Baby also developed much of their music during long jam sessions. While employed at the music distribution company, they spent their evenings making music until the wee hours, allowing themselves only as much sleep as was absolutely necessary. Their goals were somewhat different from Savoir Adore’s, however. Roan told Spin that they were “desperate to convey a feeling of ecstasy.” Indeed, almost every one of their tracks is epic, or at least strives to be epic. While they often succeed in this regard—songs like “Kankra” and “Pump Your Brakes” are full, bombastic, and satisfying—it often feels like they’re breaking off more than they can chew. Much of Rewild lags, bogged down by excessive instrumental wankery and semi-pretentious lyrics that are difficult to wrap one’s mind around. (“We are starving cannibals / She protects her animals,” from “Smoke Bros”, has been particularly derided.)

With only one album each to judge them on, one could make a pretty good case that both Amazing Baby and Savoir Adore have the potential for long, gratifying careers. For the time being, however, the latter act’s less pretentious way of conducting business has led to a more satisfying catalog.

Listen: Amazing Baby, Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

Listen: Savoir Adore, Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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published: November 9, 2009 in column: The Switchback

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Bill Callahan

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Bill CallahanBill Callahan
Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle
(Drag City, 2009)

There comes a time in many people’s lives when they have to put a stake in the ground for how they’ll choose to move forward on the matter of faith, one way or the other. For Bill Callahan (also known as Smog and (Smog)), the time has come. He closes out Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle, his 13th record and second under his birth-given name, with a long song about the end of his faith in God. When he sings “It’s time to put God away / I put God away,” it’s hard to know how to take it exactly, especially depending on how the listener feels about the topic. But it is Callahan’s way of saying there’s nothing more to discuss about it really, but here’s a 10-minute musical ode to the done deed anyway.

But the disconcerting thing about “Faith/Void” and his sentiment is his inclusion of forsaking lines like “Damning the children / Making the ill just a little more sick.” It’s a “wait a minute” moment with the very power to re-open the whole God debate. Namely, if he no longer believes in God, he probably shouldn’t blame God for the atrocities of the world anymore either. I would imagine he’d have to just rid himself of that line of thinking altogether so that this reasoning would cease to exist. It would be a more believable atheist ode if he reconciled that there’s no divine meaning behind life as he knows it, which he never does here. In fact, he only puts God away, tucked inside some drawer of his mind, filed under “denounced.” When Callahan sings, “This is the end of faith / No more must I strive / To find my peace in the lie,” it sounds like a mantra—as does much of the song, which repeats groupings of words—a tool used in a quest for some form of transformation. And it’s this sentiment that could easily be considered a statement of faith as even atheists choose to believe in something, even if it’s in himself or love or humanity.

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published: April 28, 2009 in column: Reviews

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Your Handy Guide to the Month in Music

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Cheat SheetYo, is it me, or was March completely awesome? Over the past 31 days, I made insanely delicious steak sandwiches with chipotle mayo, discovered my new favorite coffee (which I now make every morning in my Keurig single-serve coffee maker—recommended!), listened to Cat Power’s “Colors and the Kids” over and over again for hours and somehow managed to be remain happy in spite of it, got a new pair of jeans, caught up on the new season of Big Love, discovered a new local bar that has $3 Budweiser every Thursday, AND I attended a Girl Scout Cookie tasting party where everyone had to rank eight different flavors in order from best to worst. Tell me about your month in the comments, please. Or, just read about all the stuff that happened in the music world, then get back to work or whatever.

This Month’s Most Notable News Stories

“Dark Was the Night” Concert Coming to Radio City
Bryce and Aaron Dessner of the National took the reins on a compilation that was released in conjunction with the good people at AIDS awareness advocacy group the Red Hot Organization, and now they’re putting on an all-star show at Radio City Music Hall on May 3rd. The bill features Dave Sitek of TV on the Radio, Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, My Brightest Diamond, Feist, and a number of other artists who contributed tracks to the disc. Considering the kind of company the boys in the National tend to keep, you should expect an awful lot of top-tier special guests.

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published: April 1, 2009 in column: The Cheat Sheet

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SXSW: Day Three

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The Henry Clay People: Photo by Scott SchultzSXSW: Day Three, Friday Day
March 20th, Austin, Texas

Thursday night was a particularly awesome/awful night. First I saw great sets from bands residing on the Jagjaguwar/Dead Oceans label, specifically the frenzied, danceable set from These Are Powers (industrial/electronic/experimental cacophony), Women (lo-fi with plenty of static-infused dissonance), and then surprisingly and most righteously Dinosaur Jr (Mascis and Lou together again!), and I was filled with pure elation. But the night went from total revelry to talking to some random dude on the street afterwards who, in a moment of drunken confusion, got sucker punched by some aggro kid with a chip on his shoulder just looking for a fight (you’d be very proud of me, I pulled the crazy dude off of him), which led to hours spent talking to cops and cleaning up our new bloodied friend and providing him with as much vodka and comfort as was possible. It wasn’t until 5am when we returned home to go to bed. So, I was thankful that my Friday daytime events revolved around the Hot Freaks party at Mohawk, where I was able to chill out in the VIP section drinking water, eating free tacos, and taking in some of the least challenging, yet best indie, pop, and folk rock happening these days from a balcony, a safe distance from accidentally being bumped into and getting into some boozy altercation, of which I’m sure there were plenty throughout the course of the week.

It all started off with the Wrens, who have a wildly anticipated album coming out soon. I actually only listened from outside of the venue because I had to do a coffee run for a friend working the show, but I heard tracks from The Meadowlands, Silver, and Secaucus, along with what might be stuff from their new album. They sounded incredibly tight, as if tracks were simply playing straight from the albums. A little part of me died since I wasn’t inside to witness them on stage, but a friend in need, yada yada. I did make it back in time to catch Bishop Allen who is always a joy to see. They were energetic, bright-eyed, delivering songs old and new with all the ease of a well-practiced band. I will, however, continue to be somewhat baffled by Margaret Miller’s role aside from barely audible backup vocals, sparse taps on the xylophone, and otherwise existence as eye candy in signature short, white or ivory, billowy dresses. How many of those does she have, anyway?

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published: March 24, 2009 in column: It Shows

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SXSW: Day Two

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Tweak Bird: photo courtesy of Tweak Bird's MySpace page

SXSW: Day Two
March 19th, Austin, Texas

Today, I embraced the fact that I have a bike with a lock at my disposal. I showered up early and sped off to the Convention Center for a panel called “Bloggers are in Charge.” Unlike probably 75 percent of the SXSW community these days, I actually like these things. You never know when you might run in to Michael Azzerad. Did I learn anything? Not really. But I got to sit next to a Scottish guy in a kilt who was furiously bouncing back and forth from his Twitter feed to his various news and music sources on his laptop. That’s the kind of people you want to experience at these panels. You may not know people like this, but they exist and are dope. So yeah, bloggers are the voice of the modern music generation. They write about what they like. They consider themselves to be the modern-day record store clerk. Yada yada. Unfortunately, there’s no panel in sight about how actual music magazines are finding their way in an online world, a much more confounding topic that could lend itself to some really interesting discourse. Baffling, but whatevers…

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published: March 21, 2009 in column: It Shows

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SXSW: Day One

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Courtesy of Young WidowSXSW: Day One
March 18th, Austin, Texas

The music portion of SXSW kicks off officially on Wednesday, and from the get-go the fest is jam-packed with options: Official showcases, day parties, meeting and greeting with old friends, eating lotsa greasy barbeque and Tex-Mex, soaking in the Texas sun… even though we are well aware that we have the rest of the week to imbibe in all these wondrous things, something about the novelty of the first day makes one want to kick into overdrive and do EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE. So, Jocelyn and I headed down to Sixth Street after getting our wits about us over at our decked-out pad in the east side of Austin (with the “best personal bar in town”—no joke) and decided to check out some of the bigger day parties, or just head into anywhere that looked especially appealing. Walking past the Mohawk, we were pulled inside to listen to the post-hardcore (thanks, Jocelyn, for that descriptor) of Young Widows, who had many in the crowd slightly banging their heads to their hard, sludgy rhythm. They broke, and we headed to the balcony to watch the eclectic and exceedingly well-dressed crowd (which included some dudes in full superhero costumes, as in wearing spandex from head to toe… keep in mind it was close to 90 degrees) until the second band, Gringo Star took to the stage. The Atlanta-based quartet played garage-y blues rock with a roosty feel and traded vocal duties among their group, taken by the lumbering, Jack White reminiscent bassist and the guitar/keys-playing frontman. We decided to leave there to head down to Sixth Street, where we planned on picking up our access badges for day parties at Paste and PureVolume, but since both lines were hella long, we said “fuck it” and went over to the Fader-Levi’s party, which is known for free booze and free Levis for performing musicians. This was across the highway and took about 45 minutes to get through the door, but once in, it was easy to see why one would choose to spend the entire week here: Place was a damn compound, with a big stage with amplified sound, multiple bars with free booze, a room with wi-fi for bloggers, a chill zone under a tree hung with multi-hued headphones, and more. We hung out here for a while or so and caught sets by the Post War Years, a quite young four-piece with danceable keyboard licks and a cherubic looking drummer who sported the most amazing facial expressions—a wide-eyed, smiley look of pure bliss on his face as he pounded away. After a speaker from East Village radio had the crowd do some rock ‘n’ roll trivia (“what was the Cramps’ first album called?”), Abe Vigoda took the stage, but shortly into their set, Jocelyn and I decided to leave to head over to the Daytrotter studio to check out a session with England’s glam-indie-rock outfit, the Wild Beasts. The band was pretty indisposed inside the studio sound-checking away it seemed, but we had some fabulous conversations with people involved with and around Daytrotter and the studio space itself. Ah… something so immensely refreshing about sharing in music-minded talks with other passionate folks. Such is the bliss of SXSW; you meet so many cool people while down here, all involved in the same ultimate goal of celebrating music. Anyway, we left there a few beers in and happy, to come back to our place to enjoy an extra special libation from our ultra cool bar (this one is called a “Diablerie”… delicious). Check back in tomorrow for our Wednesday evening recap. We promise to see lots of cool shows. — Angela Zimmerman

Listen: Young Widows, Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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published: March 19, 2009 in column: It Shows

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Matt and Kim

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Matt and KimMatt and Kim
Grand
(Fader, 2009)

Grand. Odd name for a 29-minute album made in and by the tenants of a Brooklyn apartment so tiny that, as eponymous co-ed Matt Johnson demonstrated in an article for the Village Voice, when he stretches, he can touch both ends of the living room wall. The one-bedroom probably costs less than a grand. Grand? In this economy? What jerks. Nevertheless, their place is on Grand Street, which houses far more people and probably more bands than this duo, just as indie rock houses far more ambitious groups with more to say and bigger goals. Content in their miniscule mouse hole for whatever cheese may drop in, with their eensy fanbase, eensy instrumental setup (Matt: Keyboard; Kim Schifino: Drums) and eensier tunes, Grand is the duo’s cheeky acknowledgment that the world is bigger than they are and that’s okay.

Miniaturists in American music tend to work best with a story to tell or a riff to clean out of the memory bank. With its Playskool chord progressions and clunky rhythm rush, 2006’s Matt and Kim had nothing to say because it hadn’t yet learned its own language, defined by the hyper-annoying “Yea Yeah” and its rendered-tuneless title. With the whole syrupy mess coated in cute adepts of the lovey-dovey would decry how-dare-they. But even Johnson admits they were “learning how to play their instruments.”

Grand is supposed to be where they get it together, right? After all, it’s been almost three years. And they do… kinda. New arrangements split the pretty from the banal, with keyboard variations (piano, simulated strings, organ, more sawtooth synth) and percussion sounds (the hooky “Good Ol’ Fashion Nightmare” has a boom-boom-clap to make J-Kwon’s “Tipsy” jealous). But while Grand is less irritating than its predecessor, it’s still not enough to make this band compelling.

Johnson is an awkward, yelpy singer—not uncommon in indie, or unappreciated—except pretty useless without the fussily etched-in hooks of Hot Hot Heat’s Steve Bays or the wild inflammation of Okkervil River’s Will Sheff. He sounds more like a tone-impaired castoff from a celebrated late ’90s emo band, like Braid or the Promise Ring, who ended up stuck between Mates of State and the instruction manual to his Yamaha.

Mates of State is indeed the first thing you might think of, but their fanned-out orchestrations and snaky structures, not to mention bungee-cord harmony turns, are miles in advance of Matt and Kim’s youthful bluster. The problem is something’s wrong in the affect. “Hey New York / She’s a wolf-like shadow” and “Spare Change” are respectively, a lyric and a title that respectfully decline to grab the weight they require to even float simple pop tunes. Ask Los Campesinos!, to whom this stuff comes easier. The “Daylight Outro Remix”, “I Wanna”, “Good Ol’ Fashion Nightmare”, and Panda Bear-on-fast-forward “I’ll Take Us Home” all come close to delivering. If Matt and Kim could only look past their own street, maybe they’d be capable of producing an actual feeling. And if we’re really lucky, maybe they won’t even cover it with cute.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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published: February 4, 2009 in column: Reviews

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Daily Previews and Reviews of the Week’s Events

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CMJIt’s the time of year again, when the weather turns crisp and brisk in New York City, leaves begin to fall to the ground, visions of the underworld start to surface in storefronts, and the streets brim with more cool kids than there’s even room for on any given normal weekend in downtown Manhattan. Yes, it’s the CMJ Music Marathon, 2008 style, where your pricey badge will mean next to nothing and you’ll be left out in the cold at least a few times wondering if you have time to hop on the train to get to Brooklyn for that other show. But, you know what: None of that matters because it’s New York fuckin’ City, and for five days straight, no matter what, you’re going to consume tons of beer, tons of bands, and probably walk away from it all with some sort of cold that’ll put you out for the week following, all in the name of experiencing sounds from the best up-and-coming bands in the country and beyond in one of the greatest places in the world to see live music.

Crawdaddy! is tossing itself into the mayhem of this year’s festival to check out panels, films, and the music being offered up. Each page here represents one full day of the festival, where we’ve provided some preview highlights we’re looking forward to, and then we’ll be reporting back each following morning with what we saw the previous day before. No real agenda, no real cause. We’re gonna go with the flow and see how we emerge from the festival insanity that is CMJ.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

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published: October 22, 2008 in column: CMJ Music Marathon 2008

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Silver Jews: The Shock and Awe of Being Alive

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Silver Jews: Courtesy of Drag CityThe Silver Jews’ sixth and latest album, Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea, exuberantly captures David Berman’s wonder with existence, most notably his own. In the words of his own lyricism, Berman has seen God’s shadow on the world. After a heavily publicized bout with addiction and depression, which ultimately culminated in a suicide attempt, Berman is back from the brink. The once reticent musician has been quite candid in recent years. He’s seen both sides, the light and the dark, and he speaks on behalf of both. 

In a 2005 interview with Fader magazine Berman went on the record describing his former lifestyle, a profane and brutal one. He lived on a diet that consisted of nothing but crack and Xanax, with the methodical intent not to live at all. Lucky for us, rehab and God intervened. Now a devout Jew, he’s more alive then ever. 

In regards to the highly publicized interview, Berman says, “It was a conscious decision. It’s fun for me to tell the truth in wild places. There are so many things musicians are hiding that journalists don’t go after out of respect or wanting to get along. That’s a kind of energy you have to play with carefully, but it keeps the publicity part high-concept enough to keep me interested. But, overall, it seems no lie can shock like the truth.”

Whether regarded as a former addict, a songwriter, or a poet (his 2001 collection of poetry, Actual Air, has garnered positive reviews in literary circles), Berman has always been cast in the role of misanthrope. Beyond his previous life experiences it’s easy to see why. His writing is strewn with loners and cynics with a deadpan delivery that only reinforces perpetual despondency. However, that reputation is only partially accurate. Underneath his weary words lies something decidedly human and life affirming, and oftentimes humorous.

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published: July 23, 2008 in column: Feature Story

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