Alright, finally wrapping up this tedious and boringly written review.
This was the day of the festival I had been really holding out for. A bunch of legendary bands doing legendary things, all in the same building, and things kicked off with Japan's almighty Boredoms. Let's just get this out of the way right now: the festival could've ended right after their set and I'd've been 110% content. The building could've caved in (sure felt like it was going to). I could've suffered from post-infant death syndrome. Heart failure. Spontaneous combustion. Anything. For the 70 minutes that the Boredoms were on stage, there was 70 minutes of the most hypnotizing, enthralling, exciting music I've had the privilege to see in person. Nine drummers in perfect unison, Yamantaka Eye in the centre with his seven-necked guitar, beating, jumping, wailing, crooning, calling, beckoning, yodeling, screaming, thrashing... screw words, this was positively transcendent. Someone posted the whole set on Youtube, so get on that.
Not to be outdone by ridiculous stage-setting, the Caribou Vibration Ensemble followed, with a huge line-up of 15 if I recall correctly. Three drummers, auxiliary percussion, guitars, brass, woodwinds, and electronic fuckery courtesy of Four Tet. Very cool idea, great execution, but almost every song had the same climactic "last song" explosion feeling, kinda of dampening all the following climaxes (insert your own joke here.)
Proving that Japan is the leader of eclectic vaguely-heavy nuttery (sorry, Netherlands), Boris handily cranked out another festival highlight by playing Feedbacker in its entire slow-burning, cataclysmic glory. Flawless, really, which makes it hard to talk about. But how fucking cool is a double-necked guitar in a red-light stage fog? Yeah, thought so.
Crystal Castles are right up there with Animal Collective in the "admittedly hipster-friendly faux-indie that is enjoyable on record but atrocious live" category. Painfully loud throbbing bass combined with Alice Glass's off-key and off-time shrieks and squawks were thoroughly difficult enjoyable. Which is a shame, because I want to dig this band more than I do, really. Danceable but not obnoxiously so, and a vaguely punk aesthetic should make for a good time; then again, maybe it's more punk to go on stage drunk and kick out some half-assed jamz? Let's not talk about punk, actually. We all know where that goes.
Arguably the most legendary of the day's line-up was Bob Mould (if you are Googling this name right now I swear I will kill you) playing Husker Du songs with No Age, which is the closest many of us youngin's will get to seeing Husker Du live. What I admired most about the set was how No Age wasn't just Mould's house band for the hour. Rather, they played together, trading off vocal parts, gelling very well and playing extremely tightly. And closing with "New Day Rising"? Pants = officially soiled.
Now, here's where I lose you: I don't really care for The Flaming Lips. I don't hate them, I'm just terribly indifferent. So when my options were "watch them play until 1" or "get a decent sleep for an early departure tomorrow", my girlfriend and I leaned towards the latter. That being said, the 10 minutes we caught seemed to be the wildly entertaining live show the Lips are known for: costumes, confetti, balloons, the whole 9. Fun time, to be sure.
Ah, I really can't wrap this up eloquently. I didn't enjoy writing this. I'm sure it was awful to read too. Sorry folks, things'll pick up from here.
music is ok
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES: PART TWO (Saturday)
Let's get right into things: Sufjan Stevens kicked things off with by playing Seven Swans through; I can't say I particularly care about Mr Stevens (nothing personal), but it was a solid set of lazy folk that was by all means enjoyable, and probably something much more if you cared about the man/album.
I really want to love Grouper. On record, the dreamy/droney cave-born acoustic-thing works wonderfully. This is late night headphone music at its finest. As such, live it loses a bit of what makes it so great, since instead of walking through the snow at 2 am contemplating life and other such deep meaningful things, you're standing around with a bunch of other folks staring at Liz Harris for 40 minutes. I think I'd dig this a lot more if she met me behind an old church and played at midnight, but in a concert hall, it loses something.
Circulatory System carries the rainbow-flame acid torch passed on from Olivia Tremor Control and played a lively set, with a comfortable mix of catchy pop and all-out psychedelic jams. Again, they continued the early-afternoon theme of "enjoyable but not remarkable", but [also] again, it ain't nothin' against the band. It's entirely possible I was too excited for the latter half of the day, but that would be unprofessional, wouldn't it?
& alas, no surprise Jeff Mangum sightings. Dang.
Bradford Cox played his first set of the day as Atlas Sound on the decidedly more intimate second stage. Sure, on any "technically" level this was a fairly atrocious set with numerous technical problems and restarts and "hold on just a minute"s, but fuck it, I love Bradford Cox. He could run over my dog and I would not be able to get mad at him. Infinitely friendly, charming, and a great performer. One of the festival highlights for me.
Unfortunately, due to major jet-lag in my travelling company, we had to retire for a bit of the afternoon, but there was nothing I was particularly dying to see, but I have heard that Black Dice and El-P kicked out some fairly serious jams.
Shellac welcomed us back and nearly killed us, easily eclipsing every band in terms of volume during sound check alone. I'm not gear-heady enough to tell you what kind of amps they were using, but it looked like some sort of military equipment: a large, chrome box for an amp head with a solitary oversized dial on the front. As expected, they were tight as hell, kicked out some riff-heavy tunes and generally straight-up^rocked a lot harder than any of the bands there. You know, in that "fuck art, bang yr head" kinda way. No nonsense. Well, as no nonsense as "Squirrel Song" can get.
As the evening came to close, I get the feeling that whatever mastermind-cum-evil genius planned this festival twisted his moustache and cackled maniacally as festival goers were forced to choose between a serious conflict: Deerhunter or The Melvins? Fuuuuuck. After great, great deliberation, I decided my love for the Melvins was too deep and had been going on since middle school and I could not pass up the chance to finally see them live. I was able to catch the start of Deerhunter's set, though; "Cryptograms" and "Never Stops" lead me to believe I missed great things. Dang.
But hey, it's the goddamn Melvins. The Melvins! Fuck! They did not disappoint at all, even if I still find the two drummers thing a bit superfluous. A great mix of new and old stuff, including some of my favourite tunes from each era ("The Talking Horse" and "Hooch", respectively), but with such an expansive discography, you really can't please everyone, you know? (I was secretly holding out for "Honey Bucket", but what can ya do?) That being said, that's by no means a knock against them; they've been at it for 25 years now and it definitely shows. Plus, I caught an interview with King Buzzo earlier in the day, and it really makes me wish his legitimately hilarious banter carried on to the stage.
The night closed with Animal Collective, a band which I want to like but infuriates me to no end. Feels is a fantastic record. Their earlier, more experimental material circa-Here Comes the Indian has some great hidden gems ("Hey Light"). They even have some killer pop tunes in their recent discography ("Peacebone", "Brothersport"). But live? It's one giant piss-off. They've seemingly abandoned everything pre-Merriweather Post Pavilion, save for "Fireworks" and ditched any semblance of organic music, sticking exclusively to samplers, save for the rare guitar. What results is a bunch of overly-indulgent jams on frankly annoying loops, and with a hilarious amount of reverb and delay on the vocals rendering the hooks indistinguishable from the electronic clusterfuck. Great songs like "My Girls" lose their punch and dynamics. Garbled, unfocused, and frankly boring. Which is a shame, because on record, even their new material is largely enjoyable; minimal but still engaging pop songs.
PART THREE, THE CONCLUSION, COMING SOON.
I really want to love Grouper. On record, the dreamy/droney cave-born acoustic-thing works wonderfully. This is late night headphone music at its finest. As such, live it loses a bit of what makes it so great, since instead of walking through the snow at 2 am contemplating life and other such deep meaningful things, you're standing around with a bunch of other folks staring at Liz Harris for 40 minutes. I think I'd dig this a lot more if she met me behind an old church and played at midnight, but in a concert hall, it loses something.
Circulatory System carries the rainbow-flame acid torch passed on from Olivia Tremor Control and played a lively set, with a comfortable mix of catchy pop and all-out psychedelic jams. Again, they continued the early-afternoon theme of "enjoyable but not remarkable", but [also] again, it ain't nothin' against the band. It's entirely possible I was too excited for the latter half of the day, but that would be unprofessional, wouldn't it?
& alas, no surprise Jeff Mangum sightings. Dang.
Bradford Cox played his first set of the day as Atlas Sound on the decidedly more intimate second stage. Sure, on any "technically" level this was a fairly atrocious set with numerous technical problems and restarts and "hold on just a minute"s, but fuck it, I love Bradford Cox. He could run over my dog and I would not be able to get mad at him. Infinitely friendly, charming, and a great performer. One of the festival highlights for me.
Unfortunately, due to major jet-lag in my travelling company, we had to retire for a bit of the afternoon, but there was nothing I was particularly dying to see, but I have heard that Black Dice and El-P kicked out some fairly serious jams.
Shellac welcomed us back and nearly killed us, easily eclipsing every band in terms of volume during sound check alone. I'm not gear-heady enough to tell you what kind of amps they were using, but it looked like some sort of military equipment: a large, chrome box for an amp head with a solitary oversized dial on the front. As expected, they were tight as hell, kicked out some riff-heavy tunes and generally straight-up^rocked a lot harder than any of the bands there. You know, in that "fuck art, bang yr head" kinda way. No nonsense. Well, as no nonsense as "Squirrel Song" can get.
As the evening came to close, I get the feeling that whatever mastermind-cum-evil genius planned this festival twisted his moustache and cackled maniacally as festival goers were forced to choose between a serious conflict: Deerhunter or The Melvins? Fuuuuuck. After great, great deliberation, I decided my love for the Melvins was too deep and had been going on since middle school and I could not pass up the chance to finally see them live. I was able to catch the start of Deerhunter's set, though; "Cryptograms" and "Never Stops" lead me to believe I missed great things. Dang.
But hey, it's the goddamn Melvins. The Melvins! Fuck! They did not disappoint at all, even if I still find the two drummers thing a bit superfluous. A great mix of new and old stuff, including some of my favourite tunes from each era ("The Talking Horse" and "Hooch", respectively), but with such an expansive discography, you really can't please everyone, you know? (I was secretly holding out for "Honey Bucket", but what can ya do?) That being said, that's by no means a knock against them; they've been at it for 25 years now and it definitely shows. Plus, I caught an interview with King Buzzo earlier in the day, and it really makes me wish his legitimately hilarious banter carried on to the stage.
The night closed with Animal Collective, a band which I want to like but infuriates me to no end. Feels is a fantastic record. Their earlier, more experimental material circa-Here Comes the Indian has some great hidden gems ("Hey Light"). They even have some killer pop tunes in their recent discography ("Peacebone", "Brothersport"). But live? It's one giant piss-off. They've seemingly abandoned everything pre-Merriweather Post Pavilion, save for "Fireworks" and ditched any semblance of organic music, sticking exclusively to samplers, save for the rare guitar. What results is a bunch of overly-indulgent jams on frankly annoying loops, and with a hilarious amount of reverb and delay on the vocals rendering the hooks indistinguishable from the electronic clusterfuck. Great songs like "My Girls" lose their punch and dynamics. Garbled, unfocused, and frankly boring. Which is a shame, because on record, even their new material is largely enjoyable; minimal but still engaging pop songs.
PART THREE, THE CONCLUSION, COMING SOON.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES: PART ONE (Friday)
Feel free to skip the first couple of paragraphs; the meat of things starts below the personal back story, but if you wanna come along for the whole ride, go right on ahead, sailor.
The multi-day music festival is not something we really "do" here in Canada. We get some one-day things rolling through my neck of the woods (Virgin Festival, Warped Tour), but unfortunately, many of those one-day things all-day suck (Virgin Festival, Warped Tour). I remember reading through issues of Terrorizer (a British metal magazine (that is, about, not forged from, metal) in high school, and being absolutely floored at the weekend heavy metal camps, where European metalheads could congregate in a field out in Germany, bring a tent and some beer, and rock the fuck out for three days straight while an amazing line-up played from noon 'til dawn. Wacken, Bloodstock, Graspop... a dime a dozen over there.
As time went on, my tastes changed, but I was nonetheless jealous of the folks across the pond. How's this for an idea: take a really great band, have them pick a bunch of other really great bands, and have them all play over the course of a weekend? Bloody brilliant!, I'm sure they said over tea, adjusting monocles, etc. And so for many a year I was insanely jealous of the UK's musician-curated festival called All Tomorrow's Parties.
Eventually, ATP found it's way to North America, specifically New York, but actually specifically to Monticello, a nowhere town two hours from New York. And fuck, the line-ups were just as stellar and the whole experience sounded absolutely incredible.
So I went.
Earlier this summer, my girlfriend and I were browsing the line-up of old festivals, drooling and gawking and how cool would that be-ing. It would be so cool, it was decided. So a after a few extra shifts at work, some emails, some bus tickets, we set it up. September 10, we are leaving on a Greyhound bus from Toronto to New York, arriving the next day. Rad.
(At this point I will spare you the boredom of the 10+ hour bus ride, but just for the record: the new "extra leg room" Greyhound buses? Bullshit. They're uncomfortable as hell. The leg room is fine, but they went and fucked up the back and neck room, which made sleeping next to impossible.)
Unfortunately, due to Manhattan traffic and a missed transfer we missed The Drones playing Wait Long By The River and the Bodies of Your Enemies Will Float By. So I can't say much about that. Or anything, really.
The Feelies were up next and we were able to catch 80% of their set, wherein they performed Crazy Rhythms in its entirety. The jangly post-punk felt kind of flat on record, but the songs are definitely there, and live they absolutely nailed it. Super high energy for an album conceived almost 30 (!) years ago and a rock-solid performance. Here's hoping the reunion isn't just for touring.
Continuing the night's "Don't Look Back" agenda, where bands faithfully recreate entire albums live, Dirty Three (with Nick Cave on piano) did as much of Ocean Songs as they could fit into their one-hour set. Hyperdelicate post-rock doesn't normally translate into thrilling live show, but Warren Ellis was able to bust out all matter of kicks and jumps and wildly frontman-like behaviour all while cradling a violin and more than making up for his lethargic bandmates. Luckily, Cave's appearance didn't overshadow the material; his additions were subtle and tasteful, and the set was flawless. Definitely a highlight.
Suicide performing Suicide (as the ATP website affirmed, "their first LP", not actual suicide) was one of the main things that sealed my decision to make the journey to New York. Nothing short of legendary, the duo were wildly inventive for the late 70's; when punk was a guitar-bass-drum affair, Suicide worked as a duo, with drum machines and keyboards, with songs often being just an abrasive, industrial rhythm under half-singing punctuated with manic shrieks and bursts of noise. Now, 32 years later... things are bad. Real bad. A set list is one thing, but lyric sheets? For your own music? And having the sound guy read them was just sad. A deadpan roadie saying "Ghost rider. Motorcycle hero." into the microphone made me cringe. And so did Suicide themselves. It was like watching that drunken, creepy, "funny" uncle do Suicide karaoke at your family reunion. "Rocket USA" was especially embarrassing, as Alan Vega mumbled and groaned and generally showed his age. Admittedly things clicked a bit as the set went on, but it was still kind of... sad.
I never really got why everyone went apeshit over Panda Bear. Sure, Person Pitch was groovy, but it wasn't as mindblowing as you'd be lead to believe. Reverb-drenched minimal loops and Mr Lennox's soaring chorusy voice are lovely and all, but each song is just that on top of a creative sample, and it all becomes very samey very quickly. So live it's no surprise that the loops become more annoying (and unpleasantly bass-heavy) to the point of incoherency, the vocals do their normal Panda Bear thing, and the "show" consists of a man standing at a mess of wires in front of a projection for an hour. Monotonous, really.
David Cross did a funny, if extremely drunken, set, and I don't know what else to say about a comedian. He spoke well, I guess? Nice voice? Good jokes? He was a comedian, and he was funny. What more do you want?
I only caught about 10 minutes of The Jesus Lizard before being so impossibly tired I could not stand it, but much unlike Suicide, they seem to still be hauling ass despite their age. David Yow immediately found his way into the crowd, and right off the bat people/fists/feet/bottles were flying. Would've been a great time had I not been dead on my feet.
Stay tuned for parts 2 and 3... sometime. This is kind of a tedious thing to write. Is it tedious to read? Let me know.
The multi-day music festival is not something we really "do" here in Canada. We get some one-day things rolling through my neck of the woods (Virgin Festival, Warped Tour), but unfortunately, many of those one-day things all-day suck (Virgin Festival, Warped Tour). I remember reading through issues of Terrorizer (a British metal magazine (that is, about, not forged from, metal) in high school, and being absolutely floored at the weekend heavy metal camps, where European metalheads could congregate in a field out in Germany, bring a tent and some beer, and rock the fuck out for three days straight while an amazing line-up played from noon 'til dawn. Wacken, Bloodstock, Graspop... a dime a dozen over there.
As time went on, my tastes changed, but I was nonetheless jealous of the folks across the pond. How's this for an idea: take a really great band, have them pick a bunch of other really great bands, and have them all play over the course of a weekend? Bloody brilliant!, I'm sure they said over tea, adjusting monocles, etc. And so for many a year I was insanely jealous of the UK's musician-curated festival called All Tomorrow's Parties.
Eventually, ATP found it's way to North America, specifically New York, but actually specifically to Monticello, a nowhere town two hours from New York. And fuck, the line-ups were just as stellar and the whole experience sounded absolutely incredible.
So I went.
Earlier this summer, my girlfriend and I were browsing the line-up of old festivals, drooling and gawking and how cool would that be-ing. It would be so cool, it was decided. So a after a few extra shifts at work, some emails, some bus tickets, we set it up. September 10, we are leaving on a Greyhound bus from Toronto to New York, arriving the next day. Rad.
(At this point I will spare you the boredom of the 10+ hour bus ride, but just for the record: the new "extra leg room" Greyhound buses? Bullshit. They're uncomfortable as hell. The leg room is fine, but they went and fucked up the back and neck room, which made sleeping next to impossible.)
Unfortunately, due to Manhattan traffic and a missed transfer we missed The Drones playing Wait Long By The River and the Bodies of Your Enemies Will Float By. So I can't say much about that. Or anything, really.
The Feelies were up next and we were able to catch 80% of their set, wherein they performed Crazy Rhythms in its entirety. The jangly post-punk felt kind of flat on record, but the songs are definitely there, and live they absolutely nailed it. Super high energy for an album conceived almost 30 (!) years ago and a rock-solid performance. Here's hoping the reunion isn't just for touring.
Continuing the night's "Don't Look Back" agenda, where bands faithfully recreate entire albums live, Dirty Three (with Nick Cave on piano) did as much of Ocean Songs as they could fit into their one-hour set. Hyperdelicate post-rock doesn't normally translate into thrilling live show, but Warren Ellis was able to bust out all matter of kicks and jumps and wildly frontman-like behaviour all while cradling a violin and more than making up for his lethargic bandmates. Luckily, Cave's appearance didn't overshadow the material; his additions were subtle and tasteful, and the set was flawless. Definitely a highlight.
Suicide performing Suicide (as the ATP website affirmed, "their first LP", not actual suicide) was one of the main things that sealed my decision to make the journey to New York. Nothing short of legendary, the duo were wildly inventive for the late 70's; when punk was a guitar-bass-drum affair, Suicide worked as a duo, with drum machines and keyboards, with songs often being just an abrasive, industrial rhythm under half-singing punctuated with manic shrieks and bursts of noise. Now, 32 years later... things are bad. Real bad. A set list is one thing, but lyric sheets? For your own music? And having the sound guy read them was just sad. A deadpan roadie saying "Ghost rider. Motorcycle hero." into the microphone made me cringe. And so did Suicide themselves. It was like watching that drunken, creepy, "funny" uncle do Suicide karaoke at your family reunion. "Rocket USA" was especially embarrassing, as Alan Vega mumbled and groaned and generally showed his age. Admittedly things clicked a bit as the set went on, but it was still kind of... sad.
I never really got why everyone went apeshit over Panda Bear. Sure, Person Pitch was groovy, but it wasn't as mindblowing as you'd be lead to believe. Reverb-drenched minimal loops and Mr Lennox's soaring chorusy voice are lovely and all, but each song is just that on top of a creative sample, and it all becomes very samey very quickly. So live it's no surprise that the loops become more annoying (and unpleasantly bass-heavy) to the point of incoherency, the vocals do their normal Panda Bear thing, and the "show" consists of a man standing at a mess of wires in front of a projection for an hour. Monotonous, really.
David Cross did a funny, if extremely drunken, set, and I don't know what else to say about a comedian. He spoke well, I guess? Nice voice? Good jokes? He was a comedian, and he was funny. What more do you want?
I only caught about 10 minutes of The Jesus Lizard before being so impossibly tired I could not stand it, but much unlike Suicide, they seem to still be hauling ass despite their age. David Yow immediately found his way into the crowd, and right off the bat people/fists/feet/bottles were flying. Would've been a great time had I not been dead on my feet.
Stay tuned for parts 2 and 3... sometime. This is kind of a tedious thing to write. Is it tedious to read? Let me know.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
COMING SOON
- All Tomorrow's Parties write-up (PREVIEW: shit was dope brah)
- something droney
- the best band name ever?
- frequent updates
STAY TUNED
- something droney
- the best band name ever?
- frequent updates
STAY TUNED
Saturday, September 5, 2009
The Big Gloom
Comparing bands to other bands is Cloud Strife-sized double edged sword with a greased hilt. On one hand, sure, it's the easiest way to sum up a band's sound, to say they sound like Band X, Band Y and if Band Z had a baby with Band A while Band C cut the umbilical cord, but it also seldom does justice to neither Bands X nor whatever band you're trying to talk about. So when everyone compared Have a Nice Life to Joy Division, My Bloody Valentine, and Sunn O))) among others (I think I heard Swans somewhere), I did my best not to immediately shit myself 5 times and die, because how on Earth could a band live up to those veritable legends?
Well, shit, they just about did.
And the only reason it's "just about" and not "absolutely" is because this is still a young group.
So, instead, maybe that should read shit, they fucking will.
Poor formatting and excessive curse words aside, this band truly does combine the best of all the aforementioned worlds. Joy Division's uncomfortably depressing lyrics, My Bloody Valentine's wall-of-sound, Swans' repetitive, hypnotic song-structure, Sunn O)))'s... ok, this comparison has always been kind of lost on me, but whatever. Throw that in with a vague black metal aesthetic (the non-ridiculous kind) and a healthy DIY spirit and even a sense of humour (keep up with the Enemies List twitter) and I swear this description is still not off base: Have a Nice are indeed all of that, quite handily.
Though I feel like I'm already falling into the negative-side of this comma-happy band roll call: Have a Nice Life are still a unique force, and not merely derivative of any of the aforesaid.
"Hey now", said the Blogosphere, "this band is old news, mate. Remember early 2008, when everyone went totally apeshit over Deathconsciousness?"
Yes, but there's plenty of reasons for things to get apeshittier (?) now: grab a copy of the recently-pressed Deathconsciousness 2xLP, complete with huge explanatory booklet. Why the hell hasn't this sold out yet? Do your thing, internet. Or if you want some instant gratification, stream the whole thing here and then download the just-released b-side/demo compilation Voids. Worth your time and hard drive space, pinky swear.
Alright, I'm going to quite my fanboy gushing now. Dismissed.
Well, shit, they just about did.
And the only reason it's "just about" and not "absolutely" is because this is still a young group.
So, instead, maybe that should read shit, they fucking will.
Poor formatting and excessive curse words aside, this band truly does combine the best of all the aforementioned worlds. Joy Division's uncomfortably depressing lyrics, My Bloody Valentine's wall-of-sound, Swans' repetitive, hypnotic song-structure, Sunn O)))'s... ok, this comparison has always been kind of lost on me, but whatever. Throw that in with a vague black metal aesthetic (the non-ridiculous kind) and a healthy DIY spirit and even a sense of humour (keep up with the Enemies List twitter) and I swear this description is still not off base: Have a Nice are indeed all of that, quite handily.
Though I feel like I'm already falling into the negative-side of this comma-happy band roll call: Have a Nice Life are still a unique force, and not merely derivative of any of the aforesaid.
"Hey now", said the Blogosphere, "this band is old news, mate. Remember early 2008, when everyone went totally apeshit over Deathconsciousness?"
Yes, but there's plenty of reasons for things to get apeshittier (?) now: grab a copy of the recently-pressed Deathconsciousness 2xLP, complete with huge explanatory booklet. Why the hell hasn't this sold out yet? Do your thing, internet. Or if you want some instant gratification, stream the whole thing here and then download the just-released b-side/demo compilation Voids. Worth your time and hard drive space, pinky swear.
Alright, I'm going to quite my fanboy gushing now. Dismissed.
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