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Straight to Video
Rock Art Rock
The Decemberists
September 19, 2009
Terminal 5, New York, NY
By Amanda Hatfield "The Decemberists played a special one night 'lottery show,' where the songs played were picked at random by a master of ceremonies, played by John Wesley Harding..."
Ra Ra Riot
April 4, 2009
Webster Hall, New York City, NY
By Amanda Hatfield "This show was, at the time, the biggest one Ra Ra Riot had sold out as headliners, and it was clear to me after watching it that the band is destined for even bigger and better things..."
Florence and the Machine
October 28, 2009
Bowery Ballroom, New York City, NY
By Amanda Hatfield "Florence Welsh and her backing band delighted and mesmerized a sold-out crowd at Bowery in her first official NY headlining show..."
Dirty Projectors
July 19, 2009
Williamsburg Waterfront (Brooklyn, NY)
By Amanda Hatfield "I was skeptical about how well Dirty Projectors' gorgeous, complex vocal harmonies would carry over outdoors, standing under hot sunshine..."
See more in the Rock Art Rock gallery.
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Cornershop: When I Was Born for the 7th Time
Cornershop
When I Was Born for the 7th Time
(Luaka Bop/Warner Bros., 1997)
Sometime in 2002, following the release of the curiously titled Handcream for a Generation, Cornershop came through Los Angeles, played a gig, and followed it the next day with an appearance on a local morning radio show. This is not an extraordinary sequence of events—bands do it all the time (or used to anyway), the order of operations varying by degrees. But there was something unusual about the exchange between the radio DJ and bandleader Tjinder Singh. Something told me to grab a cassette, pop it into the boombox, and press record as I listened to them talk about the new album, Singh’s side project named Clinton, and the previous Cornershop album, When I Was Born for the 7th Time.
DJ: Did you feel a lot of pressure after that record?
Singh: No, actually, none at all, we carried on in the usual fashion…
DJ: Was the music you did with Clinton a precursor to the new Cornershop record?
Singh: Not really, no.
DJ: Can you tell us about the new album, then, when you set out to make the new record?
Singh: This one?
DJ: Yeah.
Singh: There’s not much to talk about, really. We just tried to make it as hot as possible and as undeniable as possible.
DJ: Tell me about some of the influences on this record. It’s not unfair to talk about a soul influence on this record.
Singh: Isn’t it?…
Sufjan Stevens
Sufjan Stevens
The BQE
(Asthmatic Kitty, 2009)
“I am one of them,” he writes, “and so are you: The average American car driver.” With that statement, a sliver from the self-penned essay Sufjan Stevens has included in the booklet for his film and album release The BQE, the acclaimed indie musician outs himself as—gasp!—a motorist. Stevens may live in New York City’s borough of Brooklyn, but he’s apparently no subterranean railway rider. The 34-year-old multi-instrumentalist, singer, and composer was actually born in the one time automotive powerhouse, Detroit.
How American! And how fitting for a hard-working lad who propelled to greater visibility some years ago on account of his 50 States Project: An ambitious plan to write and record an album about each federated state in this here Union. It even turns out that the motor oil pumping through Stevens’ veins is good for more than just relating to the car-cultured folks of Michigan and Illinois, the two states he’s covered thus far.
Air
Air
Love 2
(Astralwerks, 2009)
My computer is confused. It is telling me that I last modified the file “Air_Love2.rtf” at 11pm on December 31, 1979. How fitting. This record is a real throwback for Air, eschewing a lot of the electronic vibe of their recent records Talkie Walkie and Pocket Symphony for a more organic, glamorous mid-’70s vibe that has as much to do with “Diamond Dogs” and “Crocodile Rock” as cocktail loops and James Bond. If there is one song from either of their recent albums that points in the direction of this one, it is the single “Mer du Japon” from Pocket Symphony. If you liked that song, hold on to your hats.
The cinematic quality of Air’s music was quickly recognized, and they pegged the soundtrack for Sofia Coppola’s The Virgin Suicides. But I think this record could be better used on the small screen: “Eat My Beat” and “Do the Joy” both sound like they could have been stripped off of cop show title credits. Japanese bonus track “Indian Summer” is equal parts Sesame Street funk and Skinemax—a good listen either way. “Tropical Disease” could work as a soap opera theme. It’s like a Bowie instrumental with gliding synth, wood flute, and piano ripping atop a fast dance beat, but it slides into a cut-time quiet storm section, replete with sax, for the latter half.
Gary Higgins
Gary Higgins
Seconds
(Drag City, 2009)
Once upon a smoky morn way back in the early 1970s, there lived a shady, red-haired folkie running short on money and time, staring down the barrel of pending drug charges that could put him away for years, if not decades—he didn’t know. His name was Gary Higgins, and he was tired of the psychedelic jam rock he’d been playing in the years preceding. With a shit storm on the horizon, he and some friends hunkered down around a four-track to record a stunning, loose, and almost faultless psych-folk album in less than two days, and then Higgins disappeared to serve what turned out to be two years in a maximum-security prison. He got out and quietly moved on; raised a family, earned a living, aged, wondered what could’ve been, chalked it all up to a pipe dream. The album, Red Hash, never really saw a proper release; probably less than 5,000 copies in its original run, and was well buried by time, until some recent nu-folk underground devotees caught its scent. Six Organs of Admittance whiz Ben Chasny (who brilliantly and faithfully covered a song from Red Hash on his own 2005 LP, School of the Flower) hipped label worker Zach Cowie (then of Sub Pop, now of Drag City) to Higgins’ material, which set Cowie on a two-year obsession to track Higgins down, sending out hundreds of letters to random “Gary Higgins”s nationwide. The real Gary responded, still in possession of the masters, and so Red Hash was remastered and re-released in 2005 on Drag City, to much acclaim. After over 30 years, seemingly out of nowhere, the man got a second chance at pursuing his dream, and absolutely deserved it. To hear that first album now—it’s so clearly and flagrantly ahead of its time—we are all the better for knowing more about it and the artist that created it.
And now, at long last, is the follow-up album, Seconds, over 35 years in the making. In interviews, Higgins makes it sound like many of those years went by without any real consideration of future albums, yet with a title like Seconds, we’re herded towards considering it, indeed, a follow-up. Most of the seven songs presented here were written recently, inspired by all the singing and playing from the recent Red Hash re-release tour, and though they’re substantially different from the goldmine on Red Hash, the earlier album’s re-release did include two bonus tracks that fall closer to this side of Higgins’ style.
Lou Reed’s Berlin 1973 vs. Berlin Live 2008
In his long career, Lou Reed has been more influential than successful, one of the founding fathers of garage rock, noise rock, art rock, and punk rock, unafraid to make intelligent, challenging music that did more than push the envelope—he tore up the envelope and set it on fire. By the time the Velvet Underground was starting to earn recognition for its revolutionary role in creating a new paradigm for rock ‘n’roll, Reed was already making solo albums. His post-Velvet albums have ranged from haphazard to brilliant, from commercially successful to commercial disasters. Recently, his most controversial albums—Metal Machine Music and Berlin—have come under renewed scrutiny, finally recognized for their genius.
Since its release and commercial failure in 1973, Reed has said little about Berlin, but again, anyone approaching the album without preconceptions should be able to recognize the album’s primal power and dark beauty. Like many, at first I was repelled by the raw, cynical emotion of Berlin. In the feel good era of Tapestry, Sweet Baby James, and the first Eagles album, Berlin came on like a speed freak tossing a cup of piss into the dreamy psychedelic punch bowl at a hippie slumber party. The first time I listened to it, I was unable to get through the first side of the record. I was going to toss it out. Then a friend of mine sat me down and asked me to give a careful listen to “The Kids.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Reed’s matter-of-fact portrayal of infidelity, jealousy, and rage was delivered so minimally and with such authority that I was immobilized. The track slowly builds to a quiet fury with Jack Bruce’s zooming bass and a tinkling acoustic guitar the only accompaniment until the end of the song. Then the sound of screaming children crying “mommy, mommmmyyyy…” crashes out of the mix—it’s still hard to listen to today. And that’s not even the most powerful song on the album.
In the Pines: Big Sur Festival ‘09
In the Pines: Big Sur Festival ’09
August 29th at the Henry Miller Library, Big Sur
Any trip I’ve ever taken to Big Sur has been laced with the notion that I will be graced with some sort of life-affirming experience. The literary works that have come out of that place—from Henry Miller to Jack Kerouac—have long placed that sort of mystique around one of the most naturally beautiful places on earth. So, mix that with a music festival featuring a number of folk, metal, prog-rock, noise, lo-fi, and psych rock bands of the moment at the Henry Miller Library (a little cabin with an intimate space that comfortably fits 200 situated in a redwood grove), and I couldn’t help but idealize the possibilities. Books, music, nature… I mean, c’mon.
Inside the library itself, from the ceiling, hangs a note from Mr. Miller himself asking all those who come through the gates to leave their psychoses and neuroses there at the door. I have to laugh every time I think about that now, because if there was any distinguishable collective energy that hung prominently in the late-August day air (temperatures reached into the 100s), it was largely a standoffish one for such an intimate and beautiful setting. And while I must attribute some of the aloofness to the stifling heat beating we all received, the communing aspect of my aforementioned ideals was nonexistent. The local hippie working the beer tap was projecting a cooler-than-thou edge. Pasty rocker types slunk back into the shade, looking cool but not cool (an applicable metaphor perhaps?). Neither pot nor even smiles were exchanged and/or shared. Many New Yorkers made the trek out for this affair—Brooklyn-based record label Mexican Summer put on the show with FolkYeah—and there was even a sighting of Fleet Foxes frontman Robin Pecknold in the crowd. It was quite the scene indeed. With Outside Lands happening just a few hours away in San Francisco, it felt like this was Outsider Lands, a sort of protest festival to those somewhat mass appeal proceedings. And even if most everyone in attendance was fashioned like the ’60s were alive and well, that era couldn’t have felt further in the past. The unfriendliness was a real bummer. A Mexican Bummer.
Susana Baca
Susana Baca
Seis Poemas
(Luaka Bop, 2009)
For most of the world, Susana Baca is the face and voice of Afro-Peru. David Byrne “discovered” her when his Spanish teacher showed him a video of Baca singing “María Landó.” The success of that track on the compilation CD The Soul of Black Peru, the first Afro-Peruvian music widely available in the States, generated enough interest to convince Byrne to sign Baca to Luaka Bop. Baca’s subtly passionate vocals, and the Afro-Peruvian groove of her band, introduced the music of Afro-Peru to the United States and Europe.
In Peru, Afro-Peruvian music is known as Música Criolla (Creole Music) and is popular in two forms: The polished, commercial style of singers like Eva Ayllon and the more folkloric style typified by the traditional dance group Perú Negro and Baca. Afro-Peruvian music’s unique character is due to the attempt of the Spanish colonial government to ban drumming in Peru’s slave communities starting in the 1700s. They hoped to squash the memories of African culture that slaves carried with them. Instead, the slaves pounded out rhythms on packing crates, which evolved into today’s cajón, cajitas (lidded boxes used in Catholic churches for making collections), and the quijada de burro, a donkey jawbone with the teeth loosened to produce a sound that’s a cross between a shakere and a güiro. They also adopted the guitar, but played it in a melodic way to provide a response to the lead singer’s vocals. The rhythms the community developed, including the landó, festejo, and vals, blend African, European, and Latin elements in unique, but strangely familiar ways. In the late ’60s, the style almost died out due to the racism of mainstream Peruvian culture and the Afro-Peruvian desire to assimilate. When people started putting the poems of Afro-Peruvian poets to music, it helped lead to a rebirth of interest in the form. The success of Perú Negro in 1969 made Afro-Peruvian music a viable sub-genre of Peruvian pop and got young people interested in carrying on traditional forms.
Six Organs of Admittance
Six Organs of Admittance
Luminous Night
(Drag City, 2009)
Six Organs of Admittance truly deserves its own devotional society; one of those opaque but presumably benevolent cults with a visitor-friendly compound somewhere near Big Sur, where devotees live among nondenominational shrines made from bark, leaves, and water. It’s a place where the ocean would be echoed with electric drones, and strange, frightening things happen at night, inasmuch as we always fear the unknown. Ben Chasny, the brain and spirit behind Six Organs, has consistently wrought for us his earthen rays and shadows through over a decade’s worth of guitar ragas, solos, and temperate noise. His vocals are at once calm and resounding, with culturally diverse percussion and occasional other instruments chiseling out the corners of his sometimes fractal, sometimes nebulous spaces. On Luminous Night, the Chas-man’s various guitars are joined by flute, viola, and tablas for an album that both summarizes and surpasses the Six Organs we’ve experienced so far.
The new foliage on these knotted limbs is notable, though nothing so intrepid as to disrupt the basic formula, which continues to be a winning one. “Bar-Nasha”, for example, relies on its acoustic raga and later steady background handclaps that evoke the simpler origins of Chasny’s enterprise, yet is also drenched in the Middle Eastern atmospherics befitting a song titled after the Aramaic name for Jesus. It runs right into its following track, “Cover Your Wounds with the Sky”, which is exactly four minutes and 20 seconds (wink wink, maybe?) of pure distortion drone bliss, beaded with flecks of distant piano. Though it seems to come naturally, a song this entirely far out and texture-oriented (as opposed to guitar freakout-oriented) is actually somewhat of a Six Organs anomaly, as Chasny’s wordless, drifting space-outs usually come as but a part of a song, not on its own, nor of this length, nor quite this shoegaze-y. This, in turn, bleeds into the darker dronefest of “Enemies Before the Light”, guided by Chasny’s disembodied vocals, concluded by a guitar solo, and featuring, about halfway through, one of the most positively evil-sounding electronic groan/squeals ever committed to record.
Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale”
Matthew Fisher had his final day in an English court last month, following a battle for songwriting credit that waged for four—if not 42—years: From here on, he will receive a share of all future royalties from “A Whiter Shade of Pale”, the 1967 Procol Harum hit for which he composed the famous organ theme. Perhaps he skipped the light fandango, turned cartwheels ’cross the floor when the whole ordeal was through.
But here’s where I leave the words of the song and lyricist Keith Reid’s allusions to Milton, Shakespeare, and Chaucer for the experts and go in pursuit of the origin of its music, previously credited solely to Procol Harum’s singer and pianist Gary Brooker. Without access to expert witness testimony in the Fisher case, we don’t know how it was exactly decided that he came to be awarded a 40 percent split of the song’s royalties. What we do know for the record is that “A Whiter Shade of Pale” was recorded at Olympic Sound Studios with producer Denny Cordell and engineer Keith Grant and released May 1967. In an interview with the BBC in the ’90s, Fisher explained he based his melody on Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Air on a G String” and “Sleepers Awake”, “… plus, there’s an awful lot of it that isn’t really based on anything, it’s just me. It’s a bit of a hodge-podge.” Specifically, the song’s long note at the beginning, companioned with a descending bass, is borrowed from “Air”, while the baroque figure (the “deedle dee”) that follows took its inspiration from “Sleepers Awake”, though Fisher added his own variation to accommodate the bass part.
maus haus and Tempo No Tempo at the Rickshaw Stop, San Francisco
by: Angela Zimmerman
November 5th at the Rickshaw Stop, San Francisco
My Thursday of this week was punctuated by some excellent local music. I made it out to the Rickshaw to finally see maus haus—I’d caught the very end of a set some time back, but knew they were well worth seeing again. And again and again. maus haus is a six-piece art-rock band that layers and loops glitchy fractured beats to create tracks that make you move, but mostly make your ears perk up to uncover the elements that make up their off-kilter sound. Citing Brian Wilson, Kraftwerk, and surrealism as influences, maus haus occupies a similarly cerebral space, sonically and thematically. An array of instrumentation is implemented into their songs; on this night, they opened their set with a small selection of horned instrumentalists, apparently on loan from SF band Battlehooch (known for setting up impromptu shows outside of supermarkets or on gritty urban sidewalks).
read more
by: Angela Zimmerman
published: November 6, 2009 in column: It Shows
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