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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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- It Shows, What Goes On: Live Show Review: Devo at the Regency Ballroom, San Francisco
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Search results for: untrue
Son Volt
Son Volt
American Central Dust
(Rounder, 2009)
It was almost 20 years ago that Son Volt’s frontman Jay Farrar and Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, the creative forces behind the sorely missed Uncle Tupelo, harmonized together on the Carter Family’s “No Depression.” Since then, Tweedy and Farrar have steadily retreated from one another. Wilco grew increasingly experimental after their fairly unadventurous debut, A.M., now settling for meditative soft rock on Wilco (the album). Farrar’s Son Volt has been obscured in the shadows outside of his former bandmate’s spotlight, continuing to explore the roots of American folk, sounding sometimes majestic, sometimes derivative, and, on 2009’s American Central Dust, inhabited by ghosts of the past.
Son Volt’s sixth album, American Central Dust, is like a musical textbook of folklore. Farrar’s deep baritone appropriates all kinds of histories, legends, and tall-tales from the sinking of the Sultana on the Mississippi River—“The worst American disaster of the maritime,” Farrar moans—right up until Keith Richards’ apparently untrue, though still easy to believe, media debacle of mixing his cremated father’s ashes with cocaine and snorting him. In between, appearances by John Barleycorn, Leadbelly, Merle Travis, and many other celebrated figures infuse the music with a dialectic mythology, sometimes hard to believe in its blind hopefulness, but often authentic.
Burial: Untrue
Burial
Untrue
(Hyperdub, 2007)
I blame LCD Soundsystem, frankly. I was mad at James Murphy’s effortless ascent to the top scrap of the techno heap for the first half of the decade. So what if this aging hipster could program his 808? He couldn’t bring it to life. Then he did, with Sound of Silver, which has five good songs in a row: A funny, rave-wise David Byrne impression, a typical DFA cowbell jam, a typical Murphy sarcastic rant with an actual hook, a sappy earbud ballad, and one classic, “All My Friends”—seven minutes of Steve Reich-like bliss that could’ve been groomed into a Killers hit. Then Murphy gave up the deep cuts and set his studio on auto-masterpiece before sitting back in for the mediocre “New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down”, a wan piano ballad out of his métier which helped sour techno for me in 2007. But then everyone started exclaiming, “Burial! He’s done it again.” I didn’t look up until the word “Maxinquaye” was being thrown around. Suddenly, I needed to know everything about dubstep—who was this guy that dare challenge the champion on my desert island of trip-hop?
Sure enough, I threw on Untrue and was underwhelmed. I loved the title and the great drum sounds, but what else was there? Any anonymous studio tech could fashion such a pristine clockwork tick from his rhythm makers, but like the case of Mr. Murphy, I didn’t hear them sing. And after a month of pressure, on-off tries, and contrarian dares, I left Untrue—which I ultimately found repetitive and underdeveloped—off my year-end list and filed it.
Vinyl Reckoning II: Digital Boogaloo
More and more as time goes by, it’s clear to see the writing on the vinyl-sided wall: There is no future for PVC. It may be everywhere right now, and its grasp in nearly every industry may seem as tenacious as the shrink wrap currently ensnaring millions of copies of Green Day’s 21st Century Breakdown; however, as the body count grows and the cancers spread, the evidence becomes increasingly difficult for PVC makers to deny. Why, it was just last December that CBS News reported on a tiny Illinois town, population 1,000, in which 14 residents developed brain cancer—three on the same block, next door to each other, while the national incidence of their cancer is more like seven out of 100,000. Dr. Phil Lewis, Chief of Medicine for the Dow Chemical subsidiary Rohm & Haas whose chemical factory, one mile from the town, admits to having buried toxic waste on its property for 20 years ending in 1979, told CBS, “First thing, it is important to understand that that could be a coincidence.” Who’d a-thunk Dr. Phil would come up with such an easy explanation? And that wasn’t even about the 14 dying townies, either. That was in response to the 12 additional brain cancer victims within Rohm & Haas’ own research-and-development headquarters in Philadelphia.
Polyvinyl chloride (aka PVC, or “vinyl,” as we music lovers call it) is the clear and certain champion of exactly what’s terrible about modern manufacturing, particularly within the music industry, though it’s rarely discussed. Polyvinyl chloride is what vinyl records are made out of, ye olde gold standard for the traditionalist, audiophile, and hipster alike. It’s also the plastic out of which we make CD jewel cases, shrink wrap, the outer shells of most laptops and mp3 players, and a million other things. It cannot be created or broken down without releasing dioxin, which is literally the most toxic poison known to humanity. In the first part of this series, Crawdaddy! examined the ills of PVC, weighed its impact via records vs. CDs, and how independent record labels feel about these primary offenders. Yet whenever the question of hope for a safer alternative was raised, the answer was all but foregone: Mp3 is the “greenest” way to go. However, as any vinyl devotee is quick to point out, there are plenty of physical ramifications to all that supports the cold, virtual world, as well; ramifications worse than laptop wrist, over-caffeination, and getting suspended for sexting, combined.
In 2008, iTunes proclaimed five billion songs had been downloaded from its website to date, and eMusic claimed 250 million. Assuming an average length of 10 to 12 songs per album, that’s the loose equivalent of around 480 million CDs or LPs rendered unnecessary. It’s hard to argue with that kind of environmental savings—but not impossible. After all, some of those albums could otherwise have been purchased used, thereby kept out of landfills. Moreover, mp3s are like the flattened, compressed, digitized sounds of trees falling in the woods; without a player to play them, they barely exist, and these players don’t exactly grow on trees either (though there’s plenty of deforestation in order to mine for the stuff inside them). As mentioned above, laptops, mp3 players, cords, and chargers are also typically encased in polyvinyl chloride, along with a veritable cornucopia of other monstrous toxins, any one of which can kill: Mercury, lead, cadmium, phthalates, arsenic, brominated flame retardants (BFRs), you name it.
Rumor and Innuendo

Rumor and innuendo. I loathe the former, generally, and have been accused of brandishing the latter to further my agenda. But because I am no fan of rumors, I was taken aback when I learned the hard way: in my last column, I wrote an alleged fact that was based on a rumor, and like most rumors, it was untrue. Though due to a technicality, I remain partially correct (more on that in a bit). The silver lining in all of this is that no one was the slightest bit maimed and I am at least a little wiser.
Thank goodness the rumor had nothing to do with Paul McCartney’s angioplasty. (A well-published rumor that forced the Beatle to make a statement that he had nothing of the sort. I blame that wretch of an ex-wife! Heather dearie, you got to sleep with a Beatle—that should annul any cash settlement in my opinion. You want millions? Go write a book on how you were the worst Beatle wife ever!) Nor was my rumor about an upcoming Led Zeppelin tour. (Oh please oh please oh please! Dear God, and dearest Bonzo in that great amphitheatre in the sky, please let that rumor come true, and if it does, may I have enough available credit on my Visa to buy at least one decent ticket!) And my rumor certainly had nothing to do with Britney. (Take my advice honey, dye your hair, move to Calgary, and change your name to Phyllis. And for god’s sake, put on some underwear—Canada is too cold for unfuzzy peaches.) My rumor was far less devious than all of the above, and it was a rumor that had apparently been circulating for (Reelin’ in the) years. In last week’s column, as I waxed poetically (ha!) about Gibson guitars, I included the following, which, upon learning of my error, has been removed at my request:
Soulsavers
Soulsavers
It’s Not How Far You Fall, It’s the Way You Land
(Columbia, 2007)
Mark Lanegan has lent his musical chops to many a collaboration in recent years, and his latest endeavor is a project with Soulsavers, a downtempo duo comprised of British producers Rich Machin and Ian Glover. While their signature sound is rooted in electronica, the addition of Lanegan’s voice on the latest release, It’s Not How Far You Fall, It’s The Way You Land, shapes a rock, gospel, country, and blues album of considerable depth, giving rise to a unique and compelling listen.
It’s a collection of hushed, moody moments tied together by Lanegan’s striking baritone drone of a voice. The most poignant track on It’s Not How Far You Fall is the first song, “Revival”, and it is absolutely a gospel song. With Lanegan belting out “It’s gonna be a revival tonight, Lord, let there be a revival” and the rich harmonization of gospel singers behind him texturing the vocals, it’s beautiful, soulful evidence of the homogenization of modern rock forces within the wholesome aesthetic of gospel. Following is the dark, synthy “Ghosts of You and Me”, which is a bleak but interesting track, with odd ghostly noises and weird electronics cultivating an eerie mood. “Under the needle tree / The ghost of you and me / They sing the saddest song / Just one last breath and gone.” “Paper Money” is more heavily electronic, with Lanegan’s voice wailing loud and long before he kicks back in with lyrics that sound like they belong behind the end credits of a Sopranos episode.
Other noteworthy songs are “Spiritual”, a melancholy plea that finds Lanegan softly singing, “My love was untrue / Now all I have is you / Jesus oh Jesus I don’t wanna die alone.” Sobering lyrics to be sure, and the haunting threads in the music itself produce a draining, emotional composition. “Kingdoms of Rain” is a gorgeous, evocative track, exemplified by moody studio sounds, and the following “Through My Sails” finds Will Oldham singing along with Lanegan, and they strike really beautiful notes together as they forge through dark unknown waters: “Still glaring from the city lights / Into paradise I soared / Unable to come down / For reasons I’d ignored.” It’s a cathartic look at some current trend in disillusionment, and the gospel singers again make their way to the back of the song. “Jesus of Nothing” boasts light repetitive horn sounds amid a hypnotic, throbbing mix that ventures into jazz territory.
All in all, the 10 songs (plus a final hidden track) on It’s Not How Far You Fall melt together effortlessly, almost to a fault, as they become a bit draining in their downtempo consistency. But it’s a powerful collaboration of genres, and an absolutely worthwhile release by a small cast of inventive musicians. The forces of this album are all there at the forefront; it doesn’t necessarily warrant extreme amounts of unearthing to understand its depth, and it’s certainly a moving, accessible testament to the power of colliding musical ideas.
Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]
OiNK Goes Down

Middlesbrough, England is a small city that resides in a borough of the same name in northeast England. The borough, with a total population of just fewer than 135,000, ranks as the 131st most populous government district in England, and its entire metropolitan area ranks 35th, just after Oxford. Leaving Middlesbrough heading north, one passes through less than a handful of small towns before reaching the Newcastle area, and further on the Scottish abyss. Heading due south yields nothing but farms and national forests. The two most prevalent facts about Middlesbrough that turn up upon a quick search are that it’s the first town in the world to be established as the result of a railway, and that British TV station Channel 4 conducted a poll that found Middlesbrough the “worst place to live in 2007.” Other than its latest distinction, that is…
On the dreary northern English morning of October 23, 2007, police raided the Middlesbrough home of Alan Ellis. The 24-year-old Ellis was the creator of the BitTorrent site OiNK’s Pink Palace, usually referred to as simply, OiNK. OiNK was a private BitTorrent Tracker site devoted exclusively to music file sharing. In short, BitTorrent is a peer-to-peer file sharing technology that is based around a server hosting a torrent file. The torrent file is uploaded to a hosting server by a member and explains where the initial uploader’s computer is located and where the file referenced by the torrent file is contained. From there, users can download the file from the initial uploader’s computer. After downloading a part of the intended file, a downloader begins to upload the parts of the file he has already received to newly connected users, thus increasing the efficiency at which the files can be downloaded, all without hosting the file on a centralized server.

Live Show Review: Devo at the Regency Ballroom, San Francisco
by: Michael Harkin
November 6th and 7th at the Regency Ballroom, San Francisco
The recent trend of artists revisiting and performing their older, esteemed records in their entirety, chiefly inspired by All Tomorrow’s Parties’ “Don’t Look Back” concert series, can be a dicey proposition—there’s the potential that the nostalgia of the event might eclipse an artist’s other qualities and achievements, as well as, in many cases, the artist’s or band’s present, continuing vitality.
For some reason, Devo revisiting and touring behind their first and third albums, 1978’s Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! and 1980’s Freedom of Choice, makes sense, and not just because they’re reissuing them. (It should be noted that Devo performed Are We Not Men? back in May as part of ATP’s “Don’t Look Back” series.) Perhaps it’s because, to most people, they’re a one-hit wonder: “Whip It”, which got played the second night (it appears on Freedom of Choice), is a great song, but it didn’t even feel like the most brilliant, exciting song they played over these two nights. The fact is that Devo wrote a ton of great songs and are widely underrated and pegged unfairly as a novelty group. Allowing these albums to resurface so vibrantly feels appropriate because, simply, these records deserve another look, and, especially in the case of Are We Not Men?, the records feel as if they’re constructed so as to translate into a killer live setlist. (As an aside: Maybe it wouldn’t have sold so many tickets, but I think 1979’s Duty Now for the Future would’ve been cool to revisit too!)
read more
by: Michael Harkin
published: November 10, 2009 in column: It Shows, What Goes On
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