The Horrors
May 21st at Glass House, Pomona, CA
Alright, I will admit it. Like many long-time Horrors fans, I was quite disappointed when I heard the band wouldn’t be playing any material from their debut release, Strange House, on this tour. Sure, I want to be behind them in their efforts to progress and let their new musical chapter, Primary Colours, shine on stage, but I wanted that same visceral energy I saw the band perform with last time. I longed for more of that driving, pulsing feeling and those spontaneous stage outbursts that their previous work lent itself to so perfectly. That’s not to say I entered Pomona’s Glass House on Thursday night with low expectations—I was still very interested and excited to see what the group of rail-thin Englishmen would do with their new material. But I wasn’t expecting the onstage antics or unpredictability of previous years, guessing that those had been left at the door along with their alter egos—Rotter, Spider, Furse, Von Grimm, and Coffin Joe.
But among a crowd of mostly entranced, and some slightly puzzled, audience members, I was surprised to find myself hit with a feeling of equal intensity as that of before… only this time it came from a completely different, more deliberate form of emotion and energy. Instead of the short, sharp shock of their previous shows, the band produced a rich, passion-driven set of heavy, synthed-up sounds that lingered and built on each other. There was a jubilant spirit about the tapestry of music they were creating: Former bassist Tom Cowan brought his Entwistle-esque calm to the synthesizer, and combined with the buzz of Joshua Hayward’s guitar, the two filled the smoky air with texture and brightness that was further suspended above the crowd by the rhythmic basslines of Rhys Webb and held in place by the solid drumming of Joseph Spurgeon.
As towering frontman Faris Badwan jumped with jarring movements, his hands outstretched to the crowd, his lungs filling up with his next words, it was easy to get lost in his emotional sentiments as his voice rose and fell. It was easy, as well, to get wrapped up and carried away in the captivating juxtaposition of driving, dance-y music played against the downward spiral of Badwan’s love-lost lyrics. The combination was a bittersweet surprise that stayed in my ears long after the show. So long after, in fact, that as a converted ‘new’ Horrors fan, I decided I couldn’t miss the five on the following evening for their Los Angeles date at the Henry Fonda. And the Horrors didn’t disappoint. They played another set of welcome surprises to a new batch of ‘old’ fans. – Emma Dennis
Listen: The Horrors, “Scarlet Fields” [at youtube.com]
.jpg "A Place to Bury Strangers: Photo by Dan Weiss")
A Place to Bury Strangers
May 22nd at Music Hall of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY
Relativity can be a tough thing to parse in music, considering so many successes come of nostalgia. Would Amy Winehouse be so celebrated if she came up in the Motown era when her slinky brand of horn-soul was being manufactured by almost everyone? Or is she merely hitting fourth-generation Motown fans’ sweet spots? Can it be both? A Place to Bury Strangers, the so-called “loudest band in Brooklyn,” embody this dichotomy as well. Would they be so special if they came up 20 years ago, ensconced in the feedback-y ways of Jesus and Mary Chain or Ministry, or among the dour filigrees of the Cure and Depeche Mode?
One of the few ’80s-indebted bands that doesn’t wear it on their sleeve, musical lab rat Oliver Ackermann’s power trio comes off in an age where Brooklyn means Beirut and the National as the revival of meat and potatoes. For my money, they’re the greatest industrial band of all time, that is, if their second album can keep it going. 2007’s eponymous debut was surprisingly songful for a collection of homemade buzzsaws and woolly, mountainous amp vibrations. Ackermann’s hooks and riffs are definitely there beneath the (sorry in advance for the cliché) wall of sound, and his lyrics nearly impossible to extricate, but the sound is full and dynamic and melodic indeed. Live is a whole different animal.
With gutsy aplomb, the Strangers all but abandoned their debut on Friday, playing two-and-a-half songs by my count: The bracing “To Fix the Gash in Your Head”, which brutalizes harder than anything Al Jourgensen ever built from noise, and the swaying, My Bloody Valentine-esque “Ocean.” Other than what I think was a callback to the debut’s monster-thick “Don’t Think Lover”, the rest of the night left us on our own. The riveting hour that ensued was one of the most intense, no matter how calculated, experiences I’ve witnessed on a stage. Ackermann’s vocals were completely inaudible; he may as well have been reading shopping lists. But no matter, the noises the three made—rounded out by groove anchor Jono MOFO on bass and, most essentially, drummer Jay Space—rocked loud and precise enough to give the impression these were actual tunes and not performance art.
Which isn’t to say Ackermann didn’t try his hardest to drown out everything with his custom chainsaw guitar effects. The crowd reacted with palpable madness—a moshing shoulder to my face knocked most of my drink and ice cubes onto the stage. Meanwhile, the band’s avant-punk textures were swallowing the room, with strobe light effects turned on for the breathtaking remainder, when they flirted with “Ocean” and no longer gave a fuck. Ackermann unplugged his guitar mid-song, wrestled it to the ground, set a mic up in yet another feedback loop with the amp, and plugged in a new lover while the first one lay there humming to death. The swirling heaviness of the whole finale ultimately ate the room; I’ve never so enjoyed an experience where a band with just one record skipped all my favorites (“I Know I’ll See You”, “Missing You”, “Another Step Away”) and most of their songs altogether. But the APTBS show isn’t about the songs. It’s about the sound. – Dan Weiss
Watch: A Place to Bury Strangers, “Dead Beat” [at youtube.com]
Tags: The Horrors, A Place to Bury Strangers
Read past installments of It Shows:
dredg: May 19th at Great American Music Hall, SF
Avett Brothers: May 16th at the Fillmore, SF and Little Boots: May 18th at Le Poisson Rouge, NY
The Dead: May 14th at Shoreline Amphitheatre: SF
Jay Reatard
Thee Oh Sees
R. Stevie Moore
Say No! To Architecture
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The Horrors: May 21st at Glass House, Pomona, CA and A Place to Bury Strangers: May 22nd at Music Hall of Williamsburg, Brooklyn
by: Dan Weiss, Emma Dennis
May 21st at Glass House, Pomona, CA
Alright, I will admit it. Like many long-time Horrors fans, I was quite disappointed when I heard the band wouldn’t be playing any material from their debut release, Strange House, on this tour. Sure, I want to be behind them in their efforts to progress and let their new musical chapter, Primary Colours, shine on stage, but I wanted that same visceral energy I saw the band perform with last time. I longed for more of that driving, pulsing feeling and those spontaneous stage outbursts that their previous work lent itself to so perfectly. That’s not to say I entered Pomona’s Glass House on Thursday night with low expectations—I was still very interested and excited to see what the group of rail-thin Englishmen would do with their new material. But I wasn’t expecting the onstage antics or unpredictability of previous years, guessing that those had been left at the door along with their alter egos—Rotter, Spider, Furse, Von Grimm, and Coffin Joe.
But among a crowd of mostly entranced, and some slightly puzzled, audience members, I was surprised to find myself hit with a feeling of equal intensity as that of before… only this time it came from a completely different, more deliberate form of emotion and energy. Instead of the short, sharp shock of their previous shows, the band produced a rich, passion-driven set of heavy, synthed-up sounds that lingered and built on each other. There was a jubilant spirit about the tapestry of music they were creating: Former bassist Tom Cowan brought his Entwistle-esque calm to the synthesizer, and combined with the buzz of Joshua Hayward’s guitar, the two filled the smoky air with texture and brightness that was further suspended above the crowd by the rhythmic basslines of Rhys Webb and held in place by the solid drumming of Joseph Spurgeon.
As towering frontman Faris Badwan jumped with jarring movements, his hands outstretched to the crowd, his lungs filling up with his next words, it was easy to get lost in his emotional sentiments as his voice rose and fell. It was easy, as well, to get wrapped up and carried away in the captivating juxtaposition of driving, dance-y music played against the downward spiral of Badwan’s love-lost lyrics. The combination was a bittersweet surprise that stayed in my ears long after the show. So long after, in fact, that as a converted ‘new’ Horrors fan, I decided I couldn’t miss the five on the following evening for their Los Angeles date at the Henry Fonda. And the Horrors didn’t disappoint. They played another set of welcome surprises to a new batch of ‘old’ fans. – Emma Dennis
Listen: The Horrors, “Scarlet Fields” [at youtube.com]
May 22nd at Music Hall of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY
Relativity can be a tough thing to parse in music, considering so many successes come of nostalgia. Would Amy Winehouse be so celebrated if she came up in the Motown era when her slinky brand of horn-soul was being manufactured by almost everyone? Or is she merely hitting fourth-generation Motown fans’ sweet spots? Can it be both? A Place to Bury Strangers, the so-called “loudest band in Brooklyn,” embody this dichotomy as well. Would they be so special if they came up 20 years ago, ensconced in the feedback-y ways of Jesus and Mary Chain or Ministry, or among the dour filigrees of the Cure and Depeche Mode?
One of the few ’80s-indebted bands that doesn’t wear it on their sleeve, musical lab rat Oliver Ackermann’s power trio comes off in an age where Brooklyn means Beirut and the National as the revival of meat and potatoes. For my money, they’re the greatest industrial band of all time, that is, if their second album can keep it going. 2007’s eponymous debut was surprisingly songful for a collection of homemade buzzsaws and woolly, mountainous amp vibrations. Ackermann’s hooks and riffs are definitely there beneath the (sorry in advance for the cliché) wall of sound, and his lyrics nearly impossible to extricate, but the sound is full and dynamic and melodic indeed. Live is a whole different animal.
With gutsy aplomb, the Strangers all but abandoned their debut on Friday, playing two-and-a-half songs by my count: The bracing “To Fix the Gash in Your Head”, which brutalizes harder than anything Al Jourgensen ever built from noise, and the swaying, My Bloody Valentine-esque “Ocean.” Other than what I think was a callback to the debut’s monster-thick “Don’t Think Lover”, the rest of the night left us on our own. The riveting hour that ensued was one of the most intense, no matter how calculated, experiences I’ve witnessed on a stage. Ackermann’s vocals were completely inaudible; he may as well have been reading shopping lists. But no matter, the noises the three made—rounded out by groove anchor Jono MOFO on bass and, most essentially, drummer Jay Space—rocked loud and precise enough to give the impression these were actual tunes and not performance art.
Which isn’t to say Ackermann didn’t try his hardest to drown out everything with his custom chainsaw guitar effects. The crowd reacted with palpable madness—a moshing shoulder to my face knocked most of my drink and ice cubes onto the stage. Meanwhile, the band’s avant-punk textures were swallowing the room, with strobe light effects turned on for the breathtaking remainder, when they flirted with “Ocean” and no longer gave a fuck. Ackermann unplugged his guitar mid-song, wrestled it to the ground, set a mic up in yet another feedback loop with the amp, and plugged in a new lover while the first one lay there humming to death. The swirling heaviness of the whole finale ultimately ate the room; I’ve never so enjoyed an experience where a band with just one record skipped all my favorites (“I Know I’ll See You”, “Missing You”, “Another Step Away”) and most of their songs altogether. But the APTBS show isn’t about the songs. It’s about the sound. – Dan Weiss
Watch: A Place to Bury Strangers, “Dead Beat” [at youtube.com]
Tags: The Horrors, A Place to Bury Strangers
Read past installments of It Shows:
dredg: May 19th at Great American Music Hall, SF
Avett Brothers: May 16th at the Fillmore, SF and Little Boots: May 18th at Le Poisson Rouge, NY
The Dead: May 14th at Shoreline Amphitheatre: SF
by: Dan Weiss, Emma Dennis
published: May 27, 2009 in column: It Shows
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