Its Flaws Were What Made Us Have Fun

Flaws Recordings: the Mountain Goats, 2011-06-26, Bloomington, IN

2011-07-25T20:33:00.003-04:00

The Mountain Goats

Plan-It-X Festival

Rhino’s Youth Media Center & All-Ages Club

Bloomington, IN

2011-06-26

Recorded and transferred by Thomas Hartnett [its.flaws@gmail.com]

Source: AUD>Core Sound CSB Binaural Microphones>Zoom H2 recorder

Transfer: Zoom H2 recorder>WAV>Sound Studio 3.5.6>MacFLAC 2.1.2

01. Cutter

02. Cotton

03. Up the Wolves

04. Love Love Love

05. You Were Cool

06. New Star Song

07. The Hot Garden Stomp

08. Wild Sage

09. Color in Your Cheeks

10. Damn These Vampires

11. From TG&Y

12. You or Your Memory

13. Quito

14. Song for an Old Friend

15. Dance Music

16. [Does anybody have an acoustic guitar?]

17. See America Right

18. Woke Up New

19. Attention All Pickpockets

20. [The Heathers]

21. Heretic Pride *

22. The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton

23. This Year

24. The Sign

25. It Froze Me

26. [We have no actual hits]

27. No Children

* = w/ The Heathers

Notes: A solo set from John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats headlining the 2011 Plan-It-X festival in Bloomington, Indiana. Recorded from the front of the stage. No compression was added, as I think that dynamics are important at solo tMG shows. I normalized and boosted the volume in Sound Studio during post-production. The audience applause and some of the more aggro songs might be a little hot as a result, but the volume boost was necessary for songs such as Wild Sage (one verse of which was sung off mic), It Froze Me, and the unamplified guitar during No Children.

Download this concert in MP3 or FLAC format here.

New band crush: Dreamers of the Ghetto

2011-01-08T13:52:00.004-05:00

Ever since moving to Bloomington, I have been somewhat anxious to explore the local music scene, but catching up financially from the move has combined with a prohibitive work schedule to squash many of my endeavors on this front. Happily, circumstances worked out just right this past Wednesday, and I was able to make my first foray out to Russian Recording in order to see an unusually intimate set by local legends Murder By Death, in a show organized as part of local community radio station WFHB's Local Live series. Opening the show was another local band called Dreamers of the Ghetto. DotG had been openers for White Hinterland at the Bishop, but I had gotten to that show late, missing not only the entirety of DotG's set but also the first few songs of White Hinterland's set.

But I digress. Before the White Hinterland set, one of my colleagues had been talking up Dreamers of the Ghetto as one of her favorite local bands. The way she described them actually made them sound less like a band and more like a performance art project, and the little bit of grainy monochromatic video footage I had seen online, which seemed to present the band almost as a Greek chorus, did little to dispel this notion. As I arrived at Russian Recording for the show, I was approaching DotG's opening set with more or less equal parts anticipation and trepidation. When all was said and done, however, the year-old ended up stealing the show for me, giving the ten-year music business veterans in Murder by Death a run for their money in terms of presenting a dynamic, engaging, and exciting live performance.

The first thing you notice about DotG, of course, is their physical appearance. Their hair and makeup is reminiscent of Ziggy-era Bowie, but more human and somehow even more theatrical - think somewhere along the lines of Natalie Portman's makeup in the one-sheet posters for last year's Black Swan, but with more of a kabuki-inspired stylization. They simultaneously look mythical and is if they just stepped out of a time machine from the future, with a confidence that only accentuates their almost statuesque, classically beautiful yet vaguely unsettling presence.

Then they begin playing. Musically, their sound shares elements of my favorite new band from 2009, the xx, while their loops and keyboard washes bring to mind the carefully-crafted textures of TV on the Radio. Atop this bed the band layer some uplifting melodies, and the whole thing is performed in a kind of fuzzy, imprecise haze that brings to mind the atmospherics of Cocteau Twins, Ride, Slowdive, and early Lush. To be honest, it took me a couple of songs before I really noticed the guitarist, and once I did notice I realized what a testament that was to his playing style - rather than functioning as a rhythmic or lead instrument, the guitar's purpose in DotG's music is to provide texture, and within that context it works best when relegated unobtrusively to the background. While the most prominent instrumental elements of the band's music are the drums, percussion loops, and synth figures, the true lead instrument in this group, its raison d'etre, is the combination of voices. The music seems rather like a vehicle of delivery for the intertwining vocal melodies - though not necessarily for the lyrics, which on first blush seem to be somewhat impenetrable. In fact, it seems as though the band are employing a compositional strategy of combining impressionistic musical elements with obliquely expressionistic lyrical content, with references to spaceships, stars, doors, and dreams abound. Above all, it sounds like joy - four people creating danceable, engaging, and uplifting music for themselves, and to share with others. In spite of the associations shoegazy/dreampop music often have, there is nothing sad or depressing about this band's music.

Fortunately for those not in the Bloomington area, the majesty of their live performance has translated well to recorded media, and the band kicked off the new year by dropping their just-completed debut album online via bandcamp. The self-titled record, recorded in the same room in which I just saw them play, sounds wonderful and manages to sound ornately produced and arranged while still preserving the sound of their live performance. The reverb on the guitar still provides the perfect amount of texture, and the curiously Peter Gabriel-esque qualities of Luke Jones's voice only strengthens the previously-noted sonic similarities to TVOTR.

It is very easy to picture this band partnering with a local indie-label powerhouse like Dead Oceans or Jagjaguwar and becoming more of a national phenom, but for now, I feel privileged to consider them a secret I have been let in on. I hope they have the same effect on you. I encourage everyone to go check out this band live if you have the chance, and at the very least to go to their bandcamp via the album cover below to sample or purchase their album.

A Very Flawed Christmas 2010: A Flaws Holiday Mix

2010-12-24T16:38:00.004-05:00

01. Tom Waits - Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis
02. Darlene Love - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)
03. The Pretenders - 2000 Miles
04. Bright Eyes - Blue Christmas
05. The Boy Least Likely To - The First Snowflake
06. Slow Club - Christmas TV
07. Stars - Fairytale of New York

08. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone - Cold White Christmas
09. Los Campesinos! - Kindle a Flame in Her Heart
10. Tsunami - Could Have Been Christmas
11. Okkervil River - Listening to Otis Redding at Home During Christmas
12. Low - Taking Down the Tree
13. She & Him - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
14. The Prayers and Tears of Arthur Digby Sellers - Christmas Card to a Hooker in Minneapolis

download A Very Flawed Christmas 2010: A Flaws Holiday Mix

stream A Very Flawed Christmas 2010: A Flaws Holiday Mix at 8tracks.com

I had hoped to get this up earlier in the season, but circumstances conspired against me. I have been wanting to release a holiday mix for some years now, and I am happy to have finally done it. No slight or offense is intended toward those who do not celebrate Christmas; I interpret Christmas as more a social holiday than a religious one at this point. Maybe next year I will pull together a Hanukkah mix.

Enjoy, and leave any comments below. And, of course, happy and safe holidays to everybody.

-tjh

After the Glow: Pavement, 2010.09.17

2010-09-19T10:40:00.006-04:00

Pavement/Kurt Vile and the Violators
Mann Center for the Performing Arts
Philadelphia, PA
2010.09.17

"Did y'all see the Dead here? This seems like the kind of place the Dead would have played when they... when they were alive."

The cognitive dissonance may have been obvious, but it was too tempting for Stephen Malkmus not to take the bait. After all, this is their victory lap, their vindication, their chance to enjoy finally being the superstars that everyone told them they should have been throughout their career.

For this blogger, this evening was the culmination of sixteen years of waiting, anticipation, and frustration. Having been a fan of Pavement since 1994, I had faced one hurdle after another in my attempts to see the band live over the years, starting with Billy Corgan's "if they play we don't play" Lollapalooza 1994 ultimatum and culminating with an unfortunately-timed workplace injury involving a pulled neck muscle on the day of the band's final Philadelphia show on the Terror Twilight tour of 1999. Sure, in the years since I had seen Malkmus play a handful of shows with the Jicks, and those were some good shows, but the Jucks material never seemed to live up to the Pavement catalogue, which Malkmus steadfastly refused to delve into with his new band. I understand the impulse; Malkmus wanted to be seen as a currently vital artist, and not live off of his past as a nostalgia act. Perhaps part of his reasoning was also that he knew that Pavement's music was a direct result of these five individuals playing together, and that playing the songs with what would amount to a pickup band would render them defanged.

Of course, over the years I had heard stories of Pavement's legendarily sloppy, unrehearsed live shows that seemed to run the gamut from inspired but shambolic to completely disastrous, but after 16 years of waiting none of this mattered. As it happened, it was also completely irrelevant. Pavement 2010 may be the same guys, but they are nevertheless a different band than Pavement 1994.

Having never seen Pavement during its initial run, I can't comment much on specific differences between the two bands, but using old YouTube and Slow Century footage as points of comparison, I can confirm that Pavement 2010 is a much tighter, more well-oiled machine. The playing was just precise enough, while still remaining loose and spontaneous enough to not sound tired or overrehearsed. In the years since Pavement's demise, Malkmus has recast himself from sardonic slacker crown prince to a consummate professional and virtuoso, albeit one with a quick wit and cyncial sense of humor. The Malkmus fronting Pavement 2010 strikes the middle ground between these roles; he still appears all business and unsmiling onstage, but his demeanor has loosened up while playing these songs, and he injects enough ad-libs and spontaneous vocal hiccups into his delivery to betray an almost giddy sense of fun and excitement. As for the rest of the guys, they may be older, they may have lost hair in some places, grown more hair in other places, and put on some body mass in all places in general, but they were so radiant and energetic that it didn't matter. Scott "Spiral Stauirs" Kannberg may have changed so much that one would scarcely recognize him on the street, but once he started singing "Kennel District" one could not mistake him for anybody else. Mark Ibold still looks like a teenager in a pop-punk band with his hair flopping as he jumps up and down with the bass line. Bob Nastanovich is still an unpredictable madman, Pavement's secret weapon, except now he has a wireless mic and is no longer tethered to the stage area.And Steve West... well, he's still Steve West,

And the audience? The audience has perhaps changed most of all. I'm not quite sure how or why Pavement's following and legacy has changed so much in the past decade, but to a packed Mann Center (a venue that Pavement NEVER would have been able to command during its initial run), the band was received as rapturously as a religious figure might be. The band members seemed genuinely appreciative of this attention, and the energy and excitement was palpable from my vantage point in the third row. The mix of people was remarkable as well; there were veterans who had seen Pavement many times over the years and were happy to get a chance to see them off fittingly and say goodbye, there were people in my position who were old enough to have seen them the first time but missed out for one reason or another, there were even eight year-olds who knew every word to every song. This was the following that everyone told Pavement they should have had in the mid-90s, but which they could never achieve. This was their vindication. The band had a lot of fun and had an undeniable chemistry. I understand Malkmus especially not wanting to become a nostalgia act, and therefore resiting the urge to reunite for good. On the other hand, these guys have something special together and it would be a shame, and a loss for all of us as listeners, if they didn't find a way to continue working together in some capacity. Unfortunately, I do believe that the purpose of this tour is spelled out in no uncertain terms on the back cover of the tour book, which depicts a pair of puckered lips, a stack of money, and a small bird perched atop saying, "Bye-bye." Pavement broke up before being able to say goodbye the first time. They're coming back to give us a proper goodbye, but yes, they are going to take our money while doing it.

And frankly, with the quality of the show they put on (in terms of performance and setlist), I'd happily give them my money. The band opened with a sublime reading of fan favorite "Grounded," took a dig at final album Terror Twilight (and indeed, the show featured only one song from this much-maligned album), and then featured a hyperactive performance of the closest they ever had to a hit single, "Cut Your Hair," as the second song of the evening. They blasted their way through 24 more songs over the span of an hour and 45 minutes, all of them well-loved fan favorites, all of them being sung along back to the band by the entire adoring crowd. There was no "Summer Babe" and no "Carrot Rope," but given what we did get, who am I to complain?

Besides, there's always this Tuesday in New York!

Setlist:
Grounded
Cut Your Hair
Kennel District
Heckler Spray
Elevate Me Later
Frontwards
Silence Kid
Starlings of the Slipstream
Box Elder
Unfair
Fight This Generation
Shady Lane
Perfume-V
Spit on a Stranger
Stereo
Two States
In the Mouth a Desert
Conduit for Sale!
We Dance
Rattled by the Rush
Range Life
---------------------------------
Date with IKEA
Trigger Cut
Stop Breathin'
---------------------------------
(Malkmus playing "Old to Begin" during second encore break)
Gold Soundz
Here

I did record the entire set, thanks to my recording assistant Paul Mc. I had inadvertently left my external mics at home, so I had to record using the Zoom H2's onboard mics with the recorder in Paul's pocket, which is not the ideal recording setup and led to some occasional muffling and sonic anomalies, but overall it is a remarkably clean recording and sounds much better than I was expecting it to. Enjoy!

Download 2010.09.17 - Pavement as a .zip file.

I can't define it, but I know it when I see hear it.

2010-04-22T23:26:00.006-04:00

Tonight my friend Siobhan and I attended the Philadelphia "Get Together," a listening party for the new New Pornographers album (see what I did there?), Together. The event was held at Kung Fu Necktie in the Fishtown section of Philadelphia, and featured free PBR (of course), PBR-branded chapstick (thankfully not PBR flavored or scented!) and all kinds of giveaways, including a pretty awesome-sounding, unlabeled spring mix compiled by Carl Newman that, 5 tracks in, seems to consist mostly of vaguely psychedelic/garage-flavored obscure rock songs.

As for the album itself, the only song that I had been exposed to before tonight was the fairly rocking "Your Hands (Together)," which Matador had already released as an mp3 download. I was aware that first official single, "Crash Years," had been released, but I had not yet heard it. The only other pieces of information that I knew about the album were that Annie Clark of St. Vincent and Will Sheff of Okkervil River both made guest appearances on the record.

The album kicks off with "Moves," an arrestingly catchy Carl-led power pop gem featuring bright, crisp production that gives the song a sheen but doesn't defang the power of the hook; it sounds arena-ready yet still raw and immediate, and frankly after two listens to the album I think it may be second only to "Mass Romantic" as the best opening song on a New Pornographers album, and in spite of the glossier production the song presents a welcome return to the general sound and feel of the New Pornographer's second album, Electric Version.

"Moves" proves to be only the beginning of an absolutely brilliant opening three-song salvo that continues with singles "Crash Years" and "Your Hands (Together)" - which, by the way, becomes a completely different song when blared through the PA system in a bar. I found out tonight just how much better that song becomes the louder it is played. By this point in the album, you would be forgiven for thinking that it could end up besting even Mass Romantic.

The fourth track, "Silver Jenny Dollar," the first of three Dan Bejar-fronted songs, finds the Destroyer frontman in unusually poppy and accessible mode, and on first listen it seemed a bit of a let down. It's not that it was a bad song, it just didn't seem to offer a lot to hang on to. It fared better on second listen, however, perhaps because I was paying more attention to the song itself the second time through. "Silver Jenny Dollar" is followed by the Kathryn Calder-spotlighting "Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk," the song that ended up providing the biggest surprise of the album; ever since she was added to the lineup, I have found Calder to be the weak link in the New Pornographers. She just never seemed to mesh with the rest of the band, especially when attempting to sing Neko's songs during live shows. She totally makes this song work, however, and avoids making it this album's equivalent of "Failsafe." The first half of the album wraps up with an engaging ballad-ish Neko Case number called "My Shepherd."

Halfway through the album, side 1 seems to hold up as one of the most consistent album sides the Pornographers have recorded thus far. This is obviously an immediate gut reaction and not the result of extended reflection and evaluation, but right now I would rank it at least equal with the first side of Electric Version, possibly even edging that album's first half out. It is certainly a more coherent and engaging listen than the first sides of Twin Cinema and Challengers.

The second half begins just as promisingly with the second Bejar-led song of the collection, "If You Can't See My Mirrors." As poppy as "Silver Jenny Dollar" had sounded, "Mirrors" may well be the most immediate and accessible song Bejar has written yet, and it does not suffer for it. On the contrary, it is a perfect song to kick off the second side of the platter, setting an infectiously playful tone. This gives way another Newman rocker, "Up in the Dark," that cheekily seems to crib its drumbeat from Simple Minds, coming off as a harder-edged older brother of "Don't You (Forget About Me)" - all it's missing is Carl shouting "Hey, hey, hey, HEYYYY!!!" at the beginning.

It is at this point that the album begins to lose steam and reveal its almost impossibly front-loaded nature. The well-meaning but ultimately clumsy Neko Case-sung "Valkyrie in the Roller Disco" presents the first lull in the sequencing of the album, and the remaining songs never quite recover from it. Even Bejar's remaining composition, "Daughters of Sorrow," seems somewhat lugubrious and half-hearted, as though the entire band had completely spent themselves on the first eight songs. Still, those first eight songs are almost unbelievably solid and consistent, and it is quite possible that the back third of the album will leave a better impression on me when I am listening to it in an optimal environment (i.e., not a loud bar).

My second time through I focused my attention on the instrumentation, trying to pick out the contributions of Clark and Sheff. It did not sound to me as though either one contributed vocals, although it's possible that I just didn't detect them over the din in the bar. The third Bejar song, "Daughters of Sorrow," seemed to have a distinctly Okkervil River-ish quality to the guitar tone and the interplay of the rhythm section, so I am thinking that Sheff may have at least made an appearance on that song. Throughout the album I heard several guitar lines that sounded as though they could have been the work of Ms. Clark, but I did not take not of which songs they were.

Overall, this record has immediately surpassed Twin Cinema and Challengers, and established itself as my favorite New Pornographers album in seven years. I heartily recommend it, and I look forward to being able to spend more time with it.

Also, I would be remiss if I didn't thank Siobhan for coming out, having fun, and just being awesome in general, Matador for presenting these listening parties, and Brian from Beggars for all his hard work organizing and hosting the event tonight.

Together will be released on May 4. If you pre-order the CD or LP from the Matador online store, you will receive a free three-song 7" single of non-album cover songs with your order.

Lifting the weight.

2010-04-20T11:55:00.007-04:00

In which I take a step back from the controversy I have inadvertently stirred up, tackle something a lot more lighthearted, and hope that you, dear readers, will follow me down this road.

Aside from that pesky LP which will not be named, the other big release that I absolutely had to get my hands on this Record Store Day was the Life of the World to Come DVD from my favorite band, the Mountain Goats. I had already seen a screening of the film, at the New Jersey Film Festival a few weeks prior, and had intended to write a piece on it then, but circumstances forced to delay my write-up. As it is, I think a piece such as this is a necessary tension-breaker at this point, so it works out.

The film itself, directed by the talented Rian Johnson, the auteur behind Brick and the exuberantly fun The Brothers Bloom, is simultaneously simple and deceptively high-concept. John Darnielle returns to an auditorium in Pomona College in which he had once played a recital in his preadolescence. Accompanying Darnielle occasionally on vocals is his one-time musical companion, Rachel Ware. Darnielle and Ware perform songs from the most recent tMG album, The Life of the World to Come, an album of mostly reflective, ponderous (note that I intend to use this word without the negative connotation that usually accompanies it; I mean ponderous in the most objective sense possible), and low-key songs that are each titled after a Bible verse. The performance takes place on a mostly bare stage in an empty auditorium, the only audience being the film crew, the camera, and the silence.

Right from the beginning, it is clear that this is not your typical rock performance documentary film. This becomes even more obvious once it becomes clear that the entire film was actually shot on a single camera with one hour-long, unbroken shot. The camera follows Darnielle and Ware as they enter the college hall and make their way to the auditorium, the stage dressed with a piano, Darnielle's acoustic guitar, a stool, microphones, some portable lamps, and, most curiously, a circular track surrounding the performance area.

Anyone who has heard the album knows what to expect musically; these performances simply strip away the veneer of production from the album renditions, and improve most of the songs in the process. What I find most compelling about this film, however, and what I'd like to talk about, is the unique dynamic between performer and filmmaker. Ultimately, this film does not seem to be simply documenting a performance from afar, as the films of D.A. Pennebakker aim to do, nor is it using a live performance to weave an impressionistic story as the performance documentaries of Martin Scorsese and Jonathan Demme do. Rather, this film seems, more than even Demme's documentaries, to display a rare synergy and collaboration between filmmaker and musical performer.

Darnielle appears to be somewhat uncomfortable and awkward through much of the film, only losing his self-consciousness once he begins to really inhabit a song a few lines in. He speaks awkwardly to the camera as if speaking to a live audience, but seems to consciously keep his remarks less verbose and more relevant than they ordinarily would be; while this is likely due to not having the exchange of energy from the crowd, he still appears to be conscious of the banter in which he is engaging. Furthermore, the gorgeously crisp cinematography from the constantly-moving yet never restless digital camera often uncomfortably invades Darnielle's space, almost as if challenging him or goading him to retreat further into the song. Throughout the film you occasionally see crew members running across the stage to adjust something. You hear ambient sounds invading the experience as the cinematographer attaches his camera to the dolly on the track for a smooth orbit shot or as a member of the crew knocks something over. Crew members make constant adjustments to the levels on configuration of lighting. It seems as if Johnson's manipulation of the environment and willingness to invade Darnielle's space is a conscious attempt to remove Darnielle from his comfort zone, to push him and see what he will do. It is startlingly, unsettlingly intimate - as someone who has seen Darnielle perform some 35 times over the years, starting when he would play half-capacity shows at the Khyber in Philadelphia, this is by far the most intimate performance I have ever witnessed. It was simultaneously thrilling, uncomfortable, and ultimately fascinating.

The DVD also includes a lo-fi 45-minute Q&A with Johnson and Darnielle and is packaged in a gorgeous book designed by the wonderful Horse & Buggy Press and featuring song-by-song liner note commentary from Darnielle. If you can still get your hands on a copy, I highly recommend it, both for tMG fans and for fans of performance documentary or interesting cinematography.

Below, I've included a taste of the film by embedding the powerful rendition of "Ezeiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace" from the film, as well as Johnson's first collaboration with the Mountain Goats: the mind-bendingly brilliant video for "Woke Up New" from the Mountain Goats' 2006 album, Get Lonely.

Clarification, "good guys," and some free music.

2010-04-19T17:47:00.008-04:00

I would like to think that my message was sufficiently conveyed in the subtext of my previous post, but just to be sure, because in the conversation that is now emerging in the wake of my post, it seems that some have perhaps misconstrued my main points. I would like, therefore, to make these central points explicit in an easy-to-parse bullet-point format.

It was not my intention to tar all indie record stores with the same brush. Just as with most subcultures, there are good seeds and bad seeds. I recognize that, have recognized that for some time, and I therefore tend to only patronize (and try to be a vocal champion of) those who I consider to be, to put it in very reductionist and polarizing terms which are perhaps a but disingenuous but ultimately kind of necessary, the "good guys."
Nor was it my intention to disparage the good folks at Record Store Day. As I said in the previous entry, on the first Record Store Day I visited, if memory serves, five shops, arriving at the first one an hour before opening to find that I was the only person crazy enough to do so. Anybody who went to a record store this past Saturday knows how exponential the growth has been in the past two years. That first year, there were very few publicized exclusives, and they were all, I believe, from upper-tier indie labels - Matador, Merge, and Beggars, as I recall. The co-opting of Record Store Day by major labels (Warner Bros. in particular) has been curious to watch, and ultimately a necessary step in the growth of Record Store Day that unfortunately causes the onset of the standard independent paradox - one feels happy for the growth and sustainability of the event, but at the same time feels a slight sting as it no longer feels like it is yours alone. It's like watching your favorite band suddenly become huge, which is obviously a sensation I know somewhat well. But seriously - no anger toward the Record Store Day people should be read into my post. I know they are doing what they can with what they have, and frankly, the sometimes disorganized and ramshackle nature of the proceedings lends it a charm that has been steadily disappearing from record shopping culture since the rise of the internet.
I am not a fan of individual "speculators" who purchase rare records for the sole purpose of resale value, and I have not tried to hide this at any time. Usually, somebody who knows the resale value of these records is himself (or herself) a music lover, and therefore knows how it feels not to be able to get one's hands on something one wants due to the opportunism and greed of others. So what you have, then, is music lovers screwing over other music lovers for a few bucks. I know the economy is tough, and I am not going to judge you as a person if you do this. However, I am going to make a judgment call on your particular action and say it's a shitty thing to do. It doesn't make you a terrible person, but it's still a terrible thing to do to one of your own. And I know that this point will likely get accusations of having a "holier than thou" attitude, but frankly, I think having principles and sticking to them is underrated these days, and I'm not going to back down on mine.
The thorniest issue in the resulting discussion revolves around the one that I feel most strongly about, and which was meant to be the main thrust and eventual target of my ire and frustration: the stores themselves that withhold this stock from the customers supporting the brick-and-mortar stores to flip on eBay, usually for exorbitant Buy-It-Now prices. Record stores flipping products on eBay, sometimes at inflated prices, is nothing new, but it's something that has seldom been talked about. And in the past, and even in general, I don't necessarily have a problem with this; it is an example of stores adapting to a new economic climate and business model. What does it matter if an old Velvet Underground 45 goes for $100 on eBay, or if it sits collecting dust in the basement of an obscure record store in Brooklyn with a $100 price tag on it? For better or for worse, this is a capitalist, free market economy. Supply and demand applies in person as well as in online transactions. However, the Record Store Day stock is another store. In the words of the founders of RSD,
This is the one day that all of the independently owned record stores come together with artists to celebrate the art of music. Special vinyl and CD releases and various promotional products are made exclusively for the day and hundreds of artists in the United States and in various countries across the globe make special appearances and performances. Festivities include performances, cook-outs, body painting, meet & greets with artists, parades, djs spinning records and on and on. Metallica officially kicked off Record Store Day at Rasputin Music in San Francisco on April 19, 2008 and Record Store Day is now celebrated the third Saturday every April.

In other words, it is meant to be a community event. As I interpret it, and I believe that Ms. Colliton and Mr. Kurtz confirm this in their comments on my previous post, the customers are just as important a part of Record Store Day as the stores and the musicians are. It's about what happens when the three come together. As somebody who spent a significant amount of his free time growing up simply hanging out in an independent record store, and later becoming an employee in this same store (RIP Full Circle Records), the idea of community and socialization is important to my conception of what an independent shop represents. The brick-and-mortar customers are the lifeblood of these shops, and I read RSD as a way of rewarding them for their continuing loyalty to a business model that many have written off as anachronistic.

By withholding these releases, by not even giving the brick-and-mortar customers a chance at these releases, the record stores have in a sense broken an unspoken pact of responsibility. They have sold out the patrons who would support them and keep them afloat for a quicker buck. These shops do not deserve our support or our patronage if they are going to disrespect their customers so callously and blatantly. I have seen some comments from others stating that they would rather their record store flip the product without giving them a shot at it if it means they can compete with Wal Mart and iTunes - my point of view (and, again, my principles show on my sleeve here) is that we don't need stores that have no respect for or loyalty to the customers who support them. Loyalty goes both ways, folks.

No, we will never put an end to record flipping and amateur eBay entrepreneurship. That is just a fact of our economic system. However, in a capitalist environment, the consumer can vote with his or her wallet. We can point out the stores that are betraying their customers. We can make examples of them. We can spread the word. We can shame them. We can stop supporting them until they give us the same loyalty and respect we would give them.

Frankly, I am just happy to see that some conversation has started as a result of this post. I am a bit overwhelmed at the amount of attention that my little navel-gazing and venting blog post has attracted in a short amount of time, but if it gets people thinking and talking about this, and perhaps deciding what role principles should play in their own conception of retail ethos, then I have more than done my job. I want to thank those of you who have supported me, spread the link through internet fora, agreed with me, or even challenged or disagreed with me. Just keep talking about it. Keep the discussion going. Things can change.

For those of you who have gotten through the preachy and self-righteous portion of this post, I'd like to direct you to some of the good guys that I have had the pleasure of dealing with int he independent music retail world. Please, whenever you can, support these establishments, because they truly do deserve it.

Vintage Vinyl Records - Fords, NJ
Princeton Record Exchange - Princeton, NJ
Harvest Records - Asheville, NC
Bull City Records - Durham, NC
Landlocked Records - Bloomington, IN
Criminal Records - Atlanta, GA
Sound Fix - Brooklyn, NY
Academy Annex - Brooklyn, NY
Other Music - New York, NY

And, finally, to reward those of you who have made it all the way through my screed, here is the promised free music. First, let's foil the entrepreneurs who are trying to profit by flipping copies of the Blur Record Store Day UK exclusive. The reunited band released their first new song in seven years, "Fool's Day," in a limited edition of 1,000 7-inch singles that are obviously woefully sold out. Fortunately, the band have made the song available to anybody who wants it for the price of an e-mail address. Click through below to download "Fool's Day" in either 320 kbps mp3 or uncompressed wav format.

Blur - Fool's Day (download)

Next, don't fret that you didn't get your hands on one of the 600 copies of the Hold Steady LP. Instead, courtesy of NPR, you can stream the entire Heaven Is Whenever album and listen to it as often as you went until it is released on May 4 by Vagrant Records!

the Hold Steady - Heaven Is Whenever (stream)

NPR is also offering a full free preview of the new Broken Social Scene record, Forgiveness Rock Record, also out May 4 on Arts & Crafts.

And, finally, experience the sheer addictive awesomeness that is the new LCD Soundsystem record, This Is Happening, courtesy of their own damn selves. LCD really is getting better with each album, and I highly recommend giving this a listen or ten. This Is Happening is released on May 18.

LCD Soundsystem - This Is Happening (stream)

I just want to give a huge thank you to Eric Harvey and the New York Magazine Vulture Blog for helping to spread my thoughts and get conversation going, and another thank you to all of you who are participating in the conversation.

You let loss be your guide: Broken Bells, 2010.03.10

2010-03-11T21:19:00.003-05:00

Last night I had the privilege of seeing the fourth-ever show by Broken Bells, the highly-anticipated, internet-hyped collaboration between James Mercer of The Shins and production powerhouse Brian Burton, aka Danger Mouse. Only one day removed from the release of their self-titled debut album, the somewhat unlikely pair, who had worked together on last year's superlative Dark Night of the Soul project, played to a packed house of eager yet coolly restrained concertgoers in Brooklyn's hipster haven, Music Hall of Williamsburg.

After a brief set by Montreal-based Plants and Animals, who played a pleasant and fun if not particularly memorable set, the headlining act began to take the stage. The cure duo of stars was augmented for live performance by five sidemen, playing various combinations of lead guitar, keyboards/synths, percussion, and bass, along with backing vocals. Mercer himself stuck to guitar and lead vocals the entire evening; Burton, on the other hand, showed his versatility while jumping back and forth between live drums, guitar, and organ.

The performance from the band was almost meek, especially considering the amount of hype; the band played capably and certainly proved their chops, but displayed a lack of adventurousness by simply playing through the entire album, note-for-note, in order for the main set of the show. The band eschewed lighting effect, opting instead to play the entire show with a series of psychedelic animations projected onto them from the mixing desk, presenting a visual effect that reminded me of Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground's Exploding Plastic Inevitable. The visuals certainly matched the music, which continues Burton's recent fascination with '60s psychedelia evident in his work on the second Gnarls Barkley album and his production on Beck's Modern Guilt. Still, though, I couldn't escape the feeling through the show that the band, and Mercer in particular, were using the projections as just a way to draw attention away from the people actually playing the music.

After the main set was finished, the lack of inspiration seemed to carry over to the audience, which applauded half-heartedly for the obligatory encore. Fortunately, having already run through their entire original repertoire, things loosened up and felt much more spontaneous and alive for the encore. First, Mercer and Burton played a short but sweet cover of Neil Young's "Don't Let It Bring You Down," then the rest of the band came out for a rocking "Crimson and Clover." The crowd ate this up, and finally seemed to believe in the band. Unfortunately, the show was over at this point. "All right, let's get a drink!" Mercer exclaimed before he exited the stage, almost as if he was aware of just how underwhelming the show had been.

Mercer has a natural ear for melody, and the embellishments by Burton do make for a nice listen on record. However, anyone who has seen the Shins live knows that Mercer seems less than comfortable in the spotlight. One would have hoped that his forming a project with one of the hottest producers of the moment, a project that was sure to generate hype and anticipation, would signal a higher degree of comfort, but sadly this does not seem to be the case. Broken Bells certainly can deliver, as long as you don't expect anything more than you already have on the record. Truly, they have nothing up their sleeves.

Setlist:

The High Road
Vaporize
Your Head Is on Fire
The Ghost Inside
Sailing to Nowhere
Trap Doors
Citizen
October
Mongrel Heart
The Mall & Misery
-------------------------
Don't Let It Bring You Down
Crimson and Clover

For a limited time, I am offering a download of my recording of the Broken Bells' set from the Music Hall of Williamsburg. Considering the album is distributed by a major label, and the band plays through the entire album, I was hesitant to do so; however, in keeping with the spirit of Danger Mouse's Grey Album and Dark Night of the Soul, I have changed my mind. I do encourage anybody who downloads and enjoys this recording to please purchase the album itself, the Amazon page for which is helpfully linked above. Files will be removed upon request. Please also note that this link will only be active for 7 days or 100 downloads, and I will not re-upload the link once it has expired. That said, enjoy!

I will float until I learn how to swim.

2010-02-11T21:34:00.006-05:00

My musical discovery of the day on this slow, sleepy snow day came to me via an unassuming enough tweet from that arbiter of cool music and literature, Largehearted Boy:

Morning music: Madeline Ava's ukulele & vocals cover of the In the Aerpolane Over the Sea album http://bit.ly/cHC4T7

Curiosity piqued, I clicked over. Now, my relationship with cover songs, although much less prickly than that with film remakes, can still be caustic at times. While I usually enjoy a good cover, when it is a song with which I have a strong attachment, I will often be reticent to give the cover a chance or at the very least be ultra critical of it (for this very reason, in my own performances I will usually refrain from covering songs that really have a deep significance to me). In this case, here was a young whom of whom I had never heard taking an entire album that was very near and dear to my heart - an album that I knew inside out and had listened to countless times, an album of which I used to hand out CD-R copies to friends simply because I thought that everybody should have an opportunity to hear it - and reducing it to only ukulele and vocals (with kazoo performances featured on the pair of instrumental tracks). This was an album I had always lauded for its ability to create its own world and completely occupy that world, and this woman was rushing through it in 17 minutes.

What I found is that Madeline Ava's performance was disarmingly natural, self-possesed while charmingly self-conscious, and endearingly adorable. According to her website, she describes her music as "cuddlecore ukulele," which is not only my new favorite genre label but also perfectly describes the music she plays. While she tends to play simple chords in a very twee style and has a cute, idyllic singing voice that is quite antithetical to Jeff Mangum's own, her version holds it own and is worth listening to. Surely, it is a different experience than listening to the original Neutral Milk Hotel album, but it is an experience that I think has a lot to offer to NMH fans. Above all else, this recording feels like a ramshackle but exquisitely felt love letter to an album that means a lot to a lot of people. It is not perfectly executed, but to paraphrase Okkervil River (and to give a nod to the very song from which I named my blog), the flaws make the recording all the more fun.

Madeline Ava's "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (except not really...)" is available for streaming and free download over at the CLLCT site. If you like what you hear (and really, if you don't, I may have reason to doubt whether you really possess a heart), please consider also downloading her possibly even more endearing album of original songs, "Songs I'm Too Nervous to Sing for My Mom."

And hey, Philadelphia area people, in a rare show of synchronicity, I have found out that Madeline Ava will be playing a show at the DIY south Philly venue Circle of Hope this coming Saturday, February 13, at 6pm. Is anyone down? Let me know!

You've gotta look it in the eyes and say that I don't believe.

2010-02-07T10:15:00.007-05:00

It began innocently and curiously enough last night when I read a twitter post from Sarah Lipstate, the "sound artist" behind the Noveller project (about whom I really ought to write one of these days):

RIP Gowns. Listening to their final track release: http://somedarkholler.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/gowns_stand.mp3

I had heard of Gowns in passing before, but had never explored their music. Curiosity piqued, I clicked through and listened. What happened next is perhaps somewhat predictable. Within the hour, I had a digital copy of their debut (and apparently only) album, Red State.

I should back up here and talk briefly about the band. At its core, Gowns was a three-piece band, a collaboration between singer/guitarist Erika Anderson (formerly of Amps for Christ), singer/programmer/viola player Ezra Buchla (formerly of west coast noise-rock institution the Mae Shi), and drummer Corey Fogel, with additional member occasionally joining for live performances. On the album, this core trio was also assisted by Carla Bozulich, formerly of the Geraldine Fibbers and currently of Evangelista. Obviously, with this pedigree and this lineup of instruments, Gowns were a special and unique creature.

Their reputation lies mostly in their prowess and ferocity as a live act, a spectacle of catharsis that was apparently difficult to match, let alone top. While I unfortunately missed out on that experience, you can hear the intensity that would lend itself to so singular a performance style. From the looks of things, it was that intensity that, unfortunately, led to their premature demise.

Musically, their debut album presents a juxtaposition of American folk music structure with dark electronic atmospherics that at times resemble some of the more experimental moments from Radiohead's Kid A/Amnesiac period, John Cale viola drones, and Xiu Xiu-esque whisper-to-a-scream vocal dynamics that leaves the listener feeling uncomfortable and even a tad voyeuristic. Admittedly, this is not feel-good music by any stretch, but there is an eerie feeling of intimacy embedded with the catharsis that, while not for everyone, is rewarding for listeners that are able to appreciate it.

According to a post on Erika's blog, as of January 3, the band were busy mixing the second album, a time-consuming, work-intensive, tedious, and exacting process that the band went through collectively, without outsourcing:

We typically mix everything ourselves, and that’s like hand stitching. You know how you can listen to Red State over and over again? That took a long time. I want to make things that wear well, and a lot of that is really obsessive, tasteful mixing…

Within 4 weeks, apparently, Gowns were an entity that existed firmly in the past. In its wake, the band left one last missive, a 17-minute behemoth of a track called "Stand and Encounter" that dials down the folk and dials up the post-rock, sounding at times like Mogwai, Sonic Youth, and the Velvet Underground jamming with the Swans. Again, it's not for everyone, but it's free to try, both in a streaming clip and as a free download of its full 17-minute glory. It now stands as the only artifact of a sophomore album what will presumably never be realized, and the finality of Erika's words on the matter are both gratifying and heartbreaking:

We were tapping into some very raw emotions, and I’m ultimately proud of the risks we took. In spite of anything else, I feel like we were honest, and I feel like we were brave.

I’m also proud of the sounds we created, as though the combination of our talents created something that was rare and unique.

-Before this we were just finishing work on a piece for our next record, and I think in many ways it’s one of the best things we’ve done. At 17 minutes long, it’s a good representation of everyone doing the best of what they do best: it’s got Corey’s frenetic yet graceful drum patterns, Ezra’s swelling viola drones, a rhythmic and powerful guitar line, and a vocal and lyrical style that is at once direct and oblique.

-I’m posting it here as a free download, because I know people were anxious to hear something new from us, and I know we had kept them waiting far too long. I’d like to think of this as our final release.

I’m sorry we couldn’t keep it together.

Although it is sad that the band burnt out so quickly, the cliché is true: they also burned brightly. This is intensely moving music for those that can appreciate it, and ultimately if they had not been the kind of band to burn itself out so quickly, the recorded legacy they left behind would not be as special as it is. I feel lucky to have found out about them, however late, and I hope you check them out to. In addition to Red State and this final track, Gowns leaves behind a self-distributed EP, recently reissued on vinyl, and a limited edition live session on LP called Broken Bones. Both are available in limited quantities directly from Erika, and Red State can be purchased in CD or MP3 format from Amazon.com. Erika also has a new, more traditionally folk-inflected project, Some Dark Holler, in the works. You can listen to two songs from the project at her website.

MP3: Gowns - "Stand and Encounter"
Erika Anderson/Gowns website

A Flaws recording: the Mountain Goats, 2009-11-28

2010-01-31T20:59:00.004-05:00

So the very next day after the DC show, I found myself - surprise, surprise - at yet another Mountain Goats show, this time in my usual home base of Philadelphia at the TLA. This time I was fully prepared for awesomeness, and had either brought along or met up with a much larger posse of friends, including a few first-timers, which is always exciting for a tMG show. I'll probably forget some, but Stephen, Joe, Zach, Danielle, Dan, Alycea, Karly, Alex, Colin, RJ, Rob, Erin, and Paul - thank you all for coming out, sharing a good time with me, and making it even better by your very presence. You are all awesome.

As for the show itself - the sound mix and quality left a bit to be desired, as John's vocals were way low in the mix for most of the show. You will notice on the recording that it is rather difficult to distinguish John's vocals in the mix, and the effect was even more pronounced at the venue - the recording actually does a better job of capturing the vocals than my ears had at the time. The beginning of Handball, sadly, is a total washout in the vocals department. By the midpoint of Handball the vocals were turned up, but sadly John struggled for the rest of the show to be heard over both the thundering band behind him and the loyal and enthusiastic audience in front of him.

And speaking of the band - to add to the mixing woes, Peter's bass appears to be turned WAY up at this show. This show really is, I think, the loudest I had ever heard Peter play at a tMG show. Again, this is not a bad thing, and leads to some amazing moments - just listen to See America Right, and check out the awesome, foreboding, frighteningly bowel-shaking growl of Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace (this performance of which is easily the best of the three shows I caught on this tour). It did, however, cause some problems with the recording - because i was recording with built-in mics and no bass filter, the loud rumble not only dominates the sound of the recording but also contributes to a recording that is decidedly less crisp and more muffled than my DC recording. I did what I could with it, but ultimately I didn't want to tinker with it too much, so apologies for the somewhat iffy quality of this one. (Hint: it seems to sound a lot better through headphones.)

Other highlights of the show include a rare performance of Going to Michigan, the violin-and-vocal rendition of Going to Bristol, and the surprise second encore of The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton. As before, the show is streaming below and you can download it in multiple formats from the good folks over at archive.org. Enjoy!

Setlist:
Handball
Old College Try
Cotton
Palmcorder Yajna
Romans 10:9
Deuteronomy 2:10
Enoch 18:14
One Fine Day
From TG&Y
Song for Dana Plato
Going to Michigan
Going to Bristol
Hebrews 11:40
Psalms 40:2
Song for Dennis Brown
See America Right
This Year
----------------------------
Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace
No Children
----------------------------
The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton

the Mountain Goats - 2009-11-28, Theatre of the Living Arts, Philadelphia, PA

Other Flaws recordings on archive.org:
the Mountain Goats - 2005-05-04, First Unitarian Church, Philadelphia, PA
the Mountain Goats - 2005-05-05, Knitting Factory, New York, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2005-05-07, Northsix, Brooklyn, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2005-07-02, Old American Can Factory, Brooklyn, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2005-07-04, Fulton Mall Parking Garage, Brooklyn, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2009-03-21, Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, Washington, DC
the Mountain Goats - 2009-11-27, 9:30 Club, Washington, DC
the Mountain Goats - 2009-11-28, Theatre of the Living Arts, Philadelphia, PA
Britt Daniel - 2010-01-23, Sound Fix Records, Brooklyn, NY
Britt Daniel - 2010-01-23, Music Hall of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY

A Flaws recording: the Mountain Goats, 2009-11-27

2010-01-28T15:09:00.004-05:00

Those who know me even superficially tend to know one thing about me: I am a Mountain Goats fanatic. Having been a fan for over 10 years, and seen them 36 times over those 10 years, I tend to have strong and in-depth opinions concerning this band, and I also tend to share those opinions freely, frequently, and at length. That said, I will try to keep my remarks on this recording as spare as I can and let the recording speak for itself.

I went into this show with mixed feelings - this was possibly the least excited I had ever been for a tMG show. While most of the other 4AD material - much of which is often dismissed on seemingly purist grounds by other longtime fans - had endeared itself to me, their new album, Life of the World to Come, had not taken hold. I tended to like the piano-based tracks, which to me signaled a new direction that had started with the Satanic Messiah EP, but most of the guitar-based tracks (barnburner "Psalms 40:2" notwithstanding) just felt uninspired and, worse, uninspiring to me. As much as I appreciated and admired the overall work of recently-added drummer Jon Wurster, the past couple of tours have made the dusting off of older songs awkward, as Wurster seemed to often get in the way rather than helping to propel these songs. Add in the fact that the previous two shows were canceled due to sickness, and all signs were pointing to this being an underwhelming concert experience.

Of course, at this point I should know better than to believe that JD and company would let me down. John's piano playing, which had seemed so reluctant and unsure at the March 2009 NYC show that marked his first time playing piano on stage at a Mountain Goats gig, had progressed by leaps and bounds, as evidenced by his energetic dash to the bench at the start of 1 Samuel 15:23, rocking out and pointing into the air like he was Elton John or Billy Joel. From that first moment all of my doubts and misgivings were instantly erased, and as you can hear below, the show was fantastic; John was in high spirits and energy; the band, augmented by Perry Wright of the Prayers and Tears of Arthur Digby Sellers and at times by Owen Pallett (who at the time was going by his old stage name, Final Fantasy), was capable of both muscular force and tender nuance. Best of all, the LOTWTC material worked better live. Finally, I had started to grasp some of these songs and see beyond the polished veneer of the studio versions.

Notably, John did come out during Owen's opening set to sing a violin-and-vocal arrangement of the tMG classic, "Alpha Omega." While I did record Owen's set, Owen's recordings are not yet approved for hosting on archive.org. I will be e-mailing Owen's management to request permission to place these recordings on archive.org, at which time I will update this post with that information.

Setlist:

1 Samuel 15:23
Old College Try
Cotton
Psalms 40:2
Love Love Love
Deuteronomy 2:10
Enoch 18:14
Genesis 30:3
Song for Dana Plato
Cobscook Bay
It's All Here in Brownsville
Hebrews 11:14
Isaiah 45:23
Hast Thou Considered the Tetrapod
Song for Dennis Brown
Romans 10:9
This Year
-----------------------------------------
Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace
No Children

You can download my recording of this concert in MP3, Ogg Vorbis, or FLAC formats from archive.org. You can also stream the recording below, but due to anomalies in the way archive.org seems to decode and stream the tracks, i strongly encourage you to download them if you like it, in FLAC if you are able.

Finally, I want to thank DC friends new and old who helped to make the show such an enjoyable experience, including Shannon, Zach, Colin, Neal, Owen, Lexitron, Natalia (although I didn't get to see you this time around, it was fun looking for you!), and anyone else I may be forgetting.

the Mountain Goats - 2009-11-27, 9:30 Club, Washington, DC

Other Flaws recordings on archive.org:
the Mountain Goats - 2005-05-04, First Unitarian Church, Philadelphia, PA
the Mountain Goats - 2005-05-05, Knitting Factory, New York, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2005-05-07, Northsix, Brooklyn, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2005-07-02, Old American Can Factory, Brooklyn, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2005-07-04, Fulton Mall Parking Garage, Brooklyn, NY
the Mountain Goats - 2009-03-21, Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, Washington, DC
the Mountain Goats - 2009-11-27, 9:30 Club, Washington, DC

The king's new clothes.

2010-01-13T18:53:00.003-05:00

A funny thing happened to James Cameron on the way to his retirement. Somewhere along the way, he got confused and mistook himself for an Important Filmmaker with Something to Say™.

He didn't lose his way on his own, though; no, he was in fact led down the wrong road, given the wrong directions when he clearly should have made that left turn back at Albaquerque. See, Cameron was a perfectly capable director for a certain type of film; The Terminator showed that he had the chops to craft a satisfyingly exhilirating sci-fi action film with an interesting concept and a low-medium-sized budget, Aliens allowed him to stretch out and proved that even when allowed to indulge himself, he still kept the results compelling and strictly in service of the film, The Abyss gave Cameron more license to explore his creativity and ambition, while also providing a retrospectively prescient setting shift to the earth's oceans, and Terminator 2: Judgment Day was Cameron's opportunity to really wow the audience with cutting-edge special effects (which still are impressive even by today's standards, mind you), while also turning his first breakout success into a franchise with a whip-smart concept and tight execution, creating that rare sequel which is at least equal to (and arguably better than) its predecessor. Cameron could have quit in 1992 and secured a legacy that would be remembered and celebrated in filmdom.

After phoning it in with by-the-numbers yet well-executed Arnold Schwarzenegger action vehicle True Lies, however, Cameron decided to indulge one of his pet obsessions: the Titanic. I can skip over this step of the story, because you all know it. Top-grossing film of all time, Oscars, "king of the world," et cetera.

The catch is, though, that while Cameron's "king of the world" proclamation at the Academy Awards ceremony seemed to be too tongue-in-cheek to be sincere, the joke was on us; he was in earnest when he claimed this title. No longer content with being a groundbreaking and innovative filmmaker, Cameron now fancied himself a vanguard of contemporary filmmaking. Soon afterward, rumors began to swirl of a new science fiction project called Avatar. Allegedly, this film was going to completely revolutionize filmmaking and the way we think about film. The common wisdom also dictated that in order for Cameron to be able to fully realize his vision, the audience would need to wait several years before the technology could catch up to his imagination.

In the ensuing years, one could be forgiven for thinking that perhaps Cameron had indeed gone into retirement; for a triumphant Oscar winner, his career was intriguingly low-key for the next 10 years. He created a short-lived television series (albeit one that did have at least one minor cultural impact in that it turned Jessica Alba into a household name), Dark Angel, and directed a handful of mediocre underwater documentary films that later proved to be, presumably, on-the-job training in shooting in the IMAX format. It was not until late 2008 that the hype wheels for Cameron's new feature film project began publicly turning again; early word was that this was a juggernaut that was going to shock and awe everyone who saw it and that would indeed change the face of filmmaking forever. About ten years in the making, Cameron's Avatar was finally going to see the light of day.

This just about brings us up to the present. During the summer of 2009, the first teaser left many, myself included, underwhelmed and fully prepared to call shenanigans on the whole project. The visuals looked overly synthesized and oddly flat and lifeless, and the lack of any revealing of plot or characterization left the film looking like a flimsy, Hudson Hawk-on-steroids-sized flop. A full trailer with some more tantalizing visuals and further revelation of plot and thematic elements made the film look somewhat more appealing, but critics still seemed to harbor a slightly-more-than-healthy level of skepticism and were by and large sharpening their knives in anticipation of December 18.

It's unclear exactly what happened at this point, but the end result is that several critics, many of them with their heads typically at least somewhat reliably on their shoulders, began to praise the film. And not just the super-high-priced visuals and 3d filming, but the film itself. The story. The characters. Two prominent bloggers have suggested it is the frontrunner for the Academy Award for Best Picture (and hey, we all know the Oscars are bullshit, but some of us idealists would like to imagine that they still have at least a shred of credibility). Hell, it even won an award for best picture of 2009 already. It's like everyone gave in, drank the Kool-Aid, and abandoned their skepticism, objectivity and ability to think independently, and bought into Cameron's self-created myth. (Thank [insert deity here] for critics like J Hoberman - an endangered species!)

You can doubtless tell from my tone where I stand on Avatar. I am going to begin, however, by talking about what Cameron does well in the film, how it succeeds. After all, if you don't have anything nice to say you shouldn't say anything at all, right? Plus, we here at Flaws are not in the business of unrestrained hatemongering. (Plus, I figure if I start my appraisal with positive points, I won't be accused of mindlessly buying into some barely-visible backlash). Technically, this film is indeed a marvel. Let's be honest here: if one is going to see Avatar, one should do it right - that is, the way it was intended to be seen: in IMAX 3D. The teaser and trailer only reinforces this; on a computer screen, television screen, or even standard movie screen, the film looks flat and unexciting. Seeing it in IMAX 3D, however, is a completely different kind of experience - Cameron has truly created a completely immersive world in which the viewer can get lost. The strange and beautiful flora and fauna of Pandora enticingly dance toward you and draw you in, the color palette is suitably rich without being overwhelming, and even the sound design and mixing helps to entrench the viewer into the environment. This is not so much a film as a sensory experience. This being the case, there is no doubt in my mind that this film will not play well on DVD or BluRay, and to those who bought a bootleg: congratulations, you've missed the point and completely ruined the experience for yourself.

Unfortunately, however, this is where Avatar's successes end. After spending so much money creating such a beautiful and enchanting world, Cameron either neglected or did not deem it appropriate to populate this world with memorable or believable characters or a compelling or original storyline. Rather than develop actual characters to inhabit his planet (and, seriously, Pandora? I know that James Cameron has never been known for subtlety, but still…), Cameron instead decided to invest even more money into hiring a USC linguistics professor to create the language spoken by the Na'vi. I would not criticize this decision and this added layer of realism that is often neglected or dismissed by most filmmakers if Cameron had seen fit to give his Na'vi lines worth translating into a new language. Instead, we get, as many critics (even those who give the film the highest praise) have pointed out, a Na'vi translation of Dances with Wolves.

Speaking of which, can we talk about the jaw-droppingly astounding yet head-scratchingly perplexing tonal and attitudinal balancing act this film pulls off? It kind of manages to be New Age shlocky, environmentalist, anti-imperialist, militarist, and offensively racist - all at the same time. It's kind of breathtaking, but not in a good way. Ostensibly, the film's message is supposed to be one of environmentalism and respect for native peoples and their beliefs, with an anti-imperialist/invasion bent. In the process of delivering this trendy neo-hippie moral, however, Cameron employs enough explosions, violence and destruction to satisfy a hormonal teenage boy's lust for such things for at least 48 hours. A look at Cameron's output reveals that yes, he does indeed have a hard-on for explosions to rival Michael Bay, but unfortunately that propensity feels at odds with what he seems to be trying to communicate with this film. The fact that the characters are not well developed means that we only root for "the good guys" because they spend the most time on screen and because the score (composed, surprise surprise, by Titanic culprit James Horner) tells us that we are supposed to. Most problematically, however, is the treatment of the Na'vi themselves. The "bad guys" of the U.S. military often refer to them derisively as "savages," and we are meant by association to see them as quite the opposite. However, the portrayal of the Na'vi in this film is tainted at all levels by the myth of the "noble savage" that has often dogged Western perceptions of native peoples, and contributes to an overall holistically racist view of this alien species. White guilt and condescension do not add up to equal egalitarianism, James.

There are other problems I have with the film, including the fact that, in addition to the interplanetary racism, the film portrays seemingly the entire American military force as being composed exclusively of white males (with the somewhat marginal exception of pilot Michelle Rodriguez), as well as the need of most filmmakers in general to anthropomorphize their alien creations to a ridiculous degree. I recognize that this is partially the whole "god creating man in his image" issue, but seriously, with the talent and imagination that Cameron obviously has, not to mention the ludicrous amount of capital he dumped into the making of this film, I somehow expect more. All these complaints, however, can be seen as me overintellectualizing the film.

Let me address, then, the one issue I have with the film that is inescapable and not so prone to overthinking: its length. You must understand, I am often something of a sucker for long movies. Honestly, I am. I love me some epics. And here's the thing - from my point of view, two hours and forty-six minutes is not even particularly long. I am quite used to watching 150-minute films, so really, an extra sixteen minutes should not be a chore or feel indulgent. Remember, I am a fan of both Kubrick and Kurosawa.

Somewhere in the past decade, however, Cameron has forgotten how to effectively pace a film. Between the action and the explosions and the seductive visuals, this film should have flown by, in theory. It should have left me disappointed that it ended, salivating for more and willing to plop down another fifteen dollars to see it again. The last word to describe it should have been dull. Instead, I found that it felt longer than Gone with the Wind.

Let's extrapolate this a bit further. The film felt shorter than the Ultimate Cut of Watchmen, which is in truth about an hour longer. Earlier this year, I went to see the roadshow presentation of Steven Soderbergh's Che. That film, I believe, clocked in at four hours and forty-two minutes, almost a full two hours longer than Avatar. It was methodically, deliberately paced, and it included an intermission.

Avatar felt just as long as Che had felt.

This is ultimately Cameron's failure - he delivered the world that he had promised his audience, but he forgot the two most crucial aspects of a successful narrative film: identifiable characters and a compelling story. While he has changed the face of filmmaking, what he has ultimately given us is a first stepping stone, a building block that may eventually lead to something truly great. As impressed as I am with what he has achieved, I am disappointed in the critical discourse that has found itself entranced hopelessly by Cameron's illusion, and I find it distressing that all of this mostly unchallenged praise is only encouraging him. It is seeming increasingly likely that Avatar will indeed go on to be named Best Picture of the year, and that upsets me more than I care to admit. It's frustrating to feel like you are the only one who can see that the king of the world wears no clothes.

Six inches forward and five inches back.

2010-01-07T17:40:00.005-05:00

So, my copy of the new Spoon single, "Written in Reverse," arrived today on colored 7-inch vinyl, and it is gorgeous, as you can see:

Handling the single, and already eagerly anticipating the release of Spoon's next album, Transference, on January 19, I began to think of the relationship of 7-inch singles to albums and EPs, and specifically about the place of 7-inch singles in the contemporary, increasingly digitized music industry. While I think that the continued presence of (and even increased popularity of) the 12-inch album and, to a lesser degree, the 10-inch EP in the musical environment has been vindicated to a point where acceptance of vinyl in the mainstream is not a radical concept, the 7-inch presents a quandary. While albums and EPs are collections of songs that are meant to be listened to together, and often play for 15 to 20 minutes per side without the interruption of having to flip the record, singles are another story entirely. I mean, was there ever a time when the single would have been considered convenient? It really is the most work-intensive method of listening to music; considering that a typical pop single traditionally clocks in at around 3 minutes, and sometimes even less, it seems that one would hardly have time to sit down and make oneself comfortable before it would be time to get up and flip he single over to the B-side. Is the continued existence of the 7-inch single simply a byproduct of superficial nostalgia and vinyl fetishism?

Strictly speaking, the more I think about it, the existence of singles doesn't make sense. It just seems counter-intuitive. Aside from the whole flipping sides issue, there is the simple economics of it. In an age of 99-cent digital track downloads, $10 full-album downloads, and new release CDs often offered for $7.99 at the big box stores, what incentive is there for music fans to put down five dollars (or more) on two songs? Especially in the current economic climate, it does not seem to be a particularly sustainable model.

When one looks at the way the music industry is structured, the very idea of a single (at least in the traditional definition) also appears to be bordering on archaic, and charting the recent history of the single proves to be quite illuminating in terms of how the music industry has changed over the years. At this point it should be noted that I am not claiming to be a music historian, nor is this an academic blog, and so my understanding may be flawed or my explanations oversimplified or generalized to a degree where I miss the point. I do believe, however, that my overall argument, that the single has largely gone from being its own entity to a promotional tool for a more expensive album to an afterthought on the verge of antiquity, holds true.

My look at singles will begin in the 1960s, when it seems that the UK and US music industries had very different ideas of the purpose of singles. Bands such as the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and Jimi Hendrix Experience often looked at singles and albums as separate and yet equally legitimate entities. It had been common practice (and a practice that was sometimes adopted in the late '70s UK punk and postpunk scenes, as evidenced by a glance at the discographies of bands such as the Clash, Joy Division, and New Order) to eschew including tracks from singes on album releases on the UK pressings of albums. A single seemed to be viewed more as a self-contained statement in itself than simply a building block for a larger statement or entity. However, the corresponding American releases of these albums, which were often delayed, frequently consisted of bastardized tracklistings, with the tracks often resequenced and some album cuts excised from the running order in order to make room for the more recognizable hit singles which would be used to sell the album to the American market. This is the reason so many early Beatles and Rolling Stones albums (not to mention, notoriously, Jimi Hendrix Experience's Are You Experienced and the self-titled debut from the Clash) had sometimes drastically different tracklistings in the UK and US pressings.

Moving into the '70s and '80s, singles by and large tended to be culled from an album and sent to radio as a kind of promotional tool for the album. Frequently (as evidenced by my own nonscientific "research," i.e., browsing my record collection), even the B-sides of singles during this period were culled from the album, sometimes in slightly remixed form. Clearly, during this period of heavy AOR, singles were merely used as a tool for selling an album, although some bands, primarily in the UK, continued the tradition of releasing standalone one-off singles.

In the 1990s, the single seemed to enter a golden age of sorts as CDs became more and more ubiquitous (we shall conveniently ignore the "cassingle" trend). In the US the "maxi-single," which often contained 2 to 5 "B-sides" - the term stuck in spite of the fact that it no longer made any sense - became the standard format for CD singles. Record labels in the UK, however, engineered an even more effective way of wringing money from the record-buying public: the 2-part CD single (later to expand even more extravagantly into a 3-part CD single, sometimes augmented with a separate DVD single and a limited edition 7-inch with an exclusive B-side). Artists such as Radiohead and Björk released some of the iconic multi-part cd singles, often in several different formats across various European territories. A song such as Radiohead's "High and Dry," for instance, was released in, I believe, about 6 different formats, each with a different selection and configuration of B-sides and none collecting them all in one place.

Moving into the aughts and the rise of the digital marketplace, the concept of a single has become almost outdated, almost a quaint relic. CD singles have all but disappeared from the shelves, with the live cuts, outtakes, and remixes that previously would have been CD single fodder now being relegated to deluxe editions of new albums or to "digital EPs." Digital album leaks have rendered the advance single obsolete, although bands will still frequently pre-release one track from their next album digitally as a teaser. With MTV and VH1 basically being reality television channels these days, and with the rise of streaming video websites, video directors are now free to go places that network execs and the FCC would never allow them to go before, and videos are frequently now more a process of artistic statement than album promotion. With the iTunes model of cherry-picking tracks, the labels have lost control of what tracks to emphasize in order to market an album, which would seem to make the process of music marketing more democratic and egalitarian. The trade-off, however, is that the artist no longer has much control over how the package is presented. An album such as The Hazards of Love by the Decemberists, for instance, relies on its careful sequencing and on being presented as a whole rather than piecemeal by track; while this may be an extreme example, it perfectly displays the artistic loss that unfortunately seems to go hand-in-hand with the digital movement.

Ultimately, artistic presentation is the charm of the 7-inch single, and it is something that I firmly believe the digital file will never be able to replicate. Yes, there is an element of vinyl fetishism involved in the 7-inch single. Yes, there is perhaps some misplaced but well-meaning nostalgia, some willful anachronism. But ultimately it is about the music. As wasteful as the constant side-flipping seems to be, there is something to be said for the concise presentation, the self-contained quality of the package. There is a charm to these two songs that someone thought belonged together on a small slab of vinyl. It's a diversion from the other big, pressing things of the day. It feels special. And, really, when you get all this AND it's on ultra-cute pink marbled vinyl, really, could anybody with a pulse resist it?

Don't let the preachers and teachers and hipsters fool you; there ain't no rips in the fabric.

2010-01-06T18:02:00.004-05:00

There is always danger in writing about the recently deceased. Death tends to bring out the nicest and most noble impulses in people, a tendency that can sometimes lead to patronizing, pandering, or whitewashed, and therefore ultimately disingenuous, retrospectives of the deceased's legacy. Likewise, death tends to be romanticized and turn neophytes instantaneously and miraculously into the foremost expert on the work of the deceased. I present this blog entry to you with a confession and an acknowledgement. The confession is that I am indeed something of a Vic Chesnutt neophyte; the acknowledgement is that I may contradict myself at times during this entry, because the conflicting feelings I will be discussing are fairly complex and overlapping. Proceed with caution.

On December 25, 2009, Athens, GA musician Vic Chesnutt passed away after an apparent suicide attempt that left him in a coma. It perhaps should not have come as a surprise, but still it did shock and surprise many people. A second confession: I had not thought about Chesnutt in many years when the news of his coma hit the internet. I had known of Chesnutt in the early '90s as a result of Michael Stipe being an outspoken fan and producing his early albums. I had heard some of the songs off of those albums and liked what I heard, but I had never taken the plunge and actually purchased any of those early discs. In 1996 I purchased the charity compilation Sweet Relief II: Gravity of the Situation - The Songs of Vic Chesnutt, a charity compilation that featured the likes of R.E.M., Sparklehorse, the Smashing Pumpkins, Garbage, and Madonna and did more to raise Chesnutt's public profile than any of his actual recordings ever did. Ongoing idle curiosity about Chesnutt, compounded with my growing interest in Merge Records, led me to purchase my first Chesnutt album, The Salesman And Bernadette, in 1998. Unfortunately, I found that the album, a collaboration with Lambchop and a concept album to boot, never really clicked with me, and I sort of lost track of Chesnutt for the next decade plus.

The news of Chesnutt's death affected me in an odd way. I had never really felt any close attachment to his music, and the fact that I hadn't thought about him in so long ensured that I did not have the sudden "he's gone" shock that so often accompanies high-profile deaths. Rather, knowing the back story of Vic and his relentless medical bills and growing debt (a back story that I will not recount for you, but I do recommend you find out if you do not already know), I felt as if the contemporary health care system and insurance companies had claimed another victim. I do not mean to dehumanize Vic by turning him into a poster boy or reducing him to a symbol for a cause, but seriously, if anybody could serve as an example of how the broken system turns us all into victims, and why it so desperately needs to be reformed, it is Vic. Nobody should have to accrue $50,000 of debt - especially when that person has medical insurance - and basically be driven to suicide. Nobody.

Anyway, back to the music... in the days after his death, I became increasingly curious about Chesnutt's output. Although The Salesman and Bernadette had left me cold, it was obvious that a lot of people loved him, and perhaps it was time for a reassessment. I went to my local record store and picked up both of his 2009 albums, At the Cut and Skitter on Take Off, which were remarkably released two months apart this past autumn. Interestingly, the two albums could hardly be more different, sonically. At the Cut is an at times densely layered record, recorded with a full band that includes members of Godspeed! You Black Emperor, A Silver Mount Zion, and Fugazi. The band adds an oppressive yet compelling tension and despair to Chesnutt's rather sparse arrangements, making the album feel more like a collaborative effort than a solo record. Chesnutt's own guitar playing often takes a back seat to the performances by the band, as evidenced in the aggressive violin drones in the impressive, monolithic opening track, "Coward." The poignant centerpiece of the record, however, is the less embellished song "Flirted With You All My Life," which Chesnutt ironically had intended to be his break-up song to death. Personifying death as a seductive lover, Chesnutt details the ups and downs of their relationship while finally coming to the conclusion, "really, I'm not ready." Unfortunately, this was apparently not entirely the case.

Skitter on Take Off, on the other hand, is a much quieter, sparser affair, much of it played only by Chesnutt accompanying himself on acoustic guitar with the occasional contribution of producers Jonathan Richman and Tommy Larkin. Naturally, the lyrics take center stage on this album even more so than on At the Cut, because there are no embellishments to distract he listener from Chesnutt's words. The result is that, although this album is not as sonically oppressive and agitating as its predecessor, Skitter on Take Off is every bit as harrowing a listen - the bare bones production and occasional clipping of Chesnutt singing a bit too closely into the microphone give these songs a raw, exposed-nerve quality, particularly on pieces such as the grimly finger-wagging "Dick Cheney" and the triumphantly bitter Pyrrhic victory kiss-off of "My New Life." Even hints of optimism, such as the gorgeously laid-back "Rips in the Fabric," are tinged with sadness.

The purpose of this blog post was not to offer up full reviews of these records, but rather to explore the effect that Chesnutt's death had on me and the role that rediscovering Chesnutt through these records played. Properly assessing any new record is always a difficult and suspect task at best; assessing such records in the shadow of the artist's death, particularly an unexpected death under particularly tragic circumstances, is nearly impossible. I'd like to think that my assessment of these documents is not colored by his death at all, but I know that can't be true. It's possible that At the Cut is not as harrowingly heartbreaking as I think it is, that it only sounds that way because I am projecting his suicide onto this. I don't think this is the case, but only time will tell. In the meantime, if anybody has any suggestions as to where I should go from here in terms of Vic Chesnutt's catalog, I would love to hear them.

Revisionism: This list goes to 11.

2010-01-05T22:52:00.003-05:00

Well, this is embarrassing. After writing an epic 4-page post as my valiant return to the "blogosphere" (N.b.: I hate that word), I realize that I have made an omission. A major, embarrassing omission. Like, my second-favorite album of the year. Seriously.

My excuse: I used my iTunes as a reference in creating this post. However, I neglected to tag this album with the year. Therefore, when I filtered for 2009 albums, this album did not come up.

With that said, I will first present the amended list (now expanded to 11, because, well, this list goes to 11), and I will then proceed to say a few words over the album that I fell in love with so much that I had completely forgotten that it only just came out a few months ago.

Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest
The xx - xx
Yo La Tengo – Popular Songs
Dirty Projectors – Bitte Orca
The Flaming Lips – Embryonic
John Vanderslice – Romanian Names
Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
Vic Chesnutt – At the Cut
The Mountain Goats – The Life of the World to Come
Antony and the Johnsons – The Crying Light
St. Vincent – Actor

I resisted the hype for the longest time. I didn't know anything about them, but the blog hype and pitchfork adoration was enough to turn me off. I was just not interested. Over time, however, the mysteriously sparse cover started to pique my curiosity. Because they are distributed by Beggars Group USA, a label group whose webpage I visit frequently due to their distribution of the Mountain Goats, I was being constantly confronted with that oddly alluring cover. Finally, one day, I listened to a sample clip from the song "VCR" on the Beggars Group page.

Within thirty minutes, I had ordered a copy of the album from the label.

I don't know what I was expecting from the xx, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't what I got. For all the hype, they seemed oddly unfashionable. The most immediate reference point I latched onto was Young Marble Giants. Subsequent listens revealed shades of the Cure and the Chameleons, some New Order/Joy Division basslines and atmospheres, Interpol-esque guitar lines. The vocal delivery is low-key and somewhat detached, but in a compelling way, as if the detachment is not true disengagement but a defense mechanism. Some of the songs simply ooze with sexiness, and the ones that don't writhe with an uncomfortable sexual tension between the vocalists that draws you in to the drama. This young band has created a surprisingly fragile, delicate, deliberate, and well-crafted album that somehow feels like a moment that will burn out quickly. As much as I love this album, this seems like a band that perhaps only has this one album in it before it falls apart. If that is indeed the case, then I feel grateful to have been here for it.

I'm coming home, I'm coming home.

2010-01-05T21:03:00.004-05:00

Hello there, internet. It’s been a while. I’d be lying if I said that I always had a good time during my absence, but I’d also be lying if I said that it was all doom and gloom. I will just say that a good, head-clearing, life-redefining catharsis can be a positive thing every now and again. Now that I am more or less back to being settled after all that, I hope to maintain a more regular presence here (and, hey, maybe even over at my other blog as well!) in 2010.

I won’t spend a whole lot of time, as I’ve already lost over 6 months. There is a lot that I want to touch on, but for now I will ease my way back in by picking up right where my last entry left off and try to give all you beautiful, beautiful people a kind of hastily-written, knee-jerk, and likely shortsighted yet completely honest retrospective of what were, to me, the highlights of the year in music. Before I attempt to rank them, here is a brief, chronological rundown of some of the contenders

Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion: Everything I said last time continues to hold true about this album, although as the year progressed this seemed to become a bit less of a standout in my mind. In a way, the move of dropping Fall Be Kind so late in he year, when critics would be finalizing their end-of-year lists, was an ingenious move that guaranteed a strong bump in this album’s status; it gave critics an opportunity and excuse to re-evaluate the album and rediscover what was so great about it. As for myself, I have not heard Fall Be Kind yet, but if it is anywhere near as good as I have heard, I know I am in for a treat.
Bon Iver – Blood Bank: This one didn’t make so big an impact on me at first, but it grew on me. Short and sweet, and if you try to tell me that “Woods” is not the best and most inventive use of Autotune ever, then I will call you a goddamned liar. In fact, “Woods” may be my favorite song of Vernon’s. No lie.
Antony and the Johnsons – The Crying Light: Another one that took some growing. While I would not describe its predecessor as fragile, there was a certain stateliness to it that gave it a disingenuous veneer of delicateness. The Crying Light quite simply eschews any pretense of fragility and presents itself as an audacious, bombastic, and stunningly ambitious record that demands to be listened to on its own terms.
Various Artists – Dark Was the Night: This was definitely the year of the all-star indie rock collaborative compilation album, and of all the examples, this one remains the first and the best, even if it was eventually lost in the shuffle when the year-end retrospectives came out. You can’t argue with great music for a great cause.
The Mountain Goats & John Vanderslice – Moon Colony Bloodbath: These two need to collaborate more often. I would love to see their long-rumored Comedians band come to fruition.
Casiotone for the Painfully Alone – Vs. Children: Nine months later (ha ha), I still think the smoother and more embellished production was the right decision for this album. Sue me.
St. Vincent – Actor: I sincerely hope that the title of this record is another Arrested Development reference. Geeky pop culture references aside, I have three points to make that I didn’t make last time. 1) Here is where you will likely hear the most compelling and freshest-sounding guitar playing of the year. 2) I DARE you to listen to “Marrow” and not dance. I don’t dance, but I can’t resist the urge to move when I hear that song. 3) Umm, yeah. I’m kind of in love with this woman. That is all.
John Vanderslice – Romanian Names: Definitely one of my top five of the year. Everything I said before, or in my recommendation on the other blog, holds true. Rather than repeat myself, I will just entreat you to please read what I’ve already written about this album and, for the love of God, go listen to it!
Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest: It cannot be stressed enough that 2009 was, improbably, Grizzly Bear’s year. I don’t know how or why it happened, but I’m not complaining. It’s fun to watch deserving bands have semi-meteoric rises.
Rhett Miller – Rhett Miller: I was not a fan of Rhett’s previous two solo albums. I was prepared to ignore this one. Then I saw him live, solo acoustic, opening up for his own band, Old 97’s. I was floored by how good these new songs were. These were genuinely some of the best songs I had heard from Mr. Miller in quite some time. I expected the studio versions to be overproduced to the point of being unlistenable, but surprisingly found the album presentation to be tasteful and appealing. “Like Love” would possibly be my single of the year if the label would see fit to release it as a single. Is anyone listening? Seriously, people: a 7-inch of “Like Love” with a live version of “Another Girlfriend” on the flip. Get it into the right hands and it could be a hit. Screw it, I’m gonna start my own label. Grumble grumble grumble.
Dirty Projectors – Bitte Orca: I continue to be amazed by this album. Inaccessible artsiness has perhaps never been so appealing. I can admit when I’m wrong about a band (although I’m still not delving into the back catalog just yet).
Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse – Dark Was the Night: Besides appearances from two other artists with albums on my 2009 shortlist (The Flaming Lips and Vic Chesnutt), the involvement of David Lynch and the multimedia nature of this project/experiment ensured that it would be intriguing. It’s a shame that the legal grey (album) area of this (non)-release means that most people will never get to hear it.
Dinosaur Jr. – Farm: Perhaps not quite as strong an album at the end of the year as it had seemed when I first listened to it, but I maintain that these guys have still got it. As far as reunion albums go, this is one of the best. I wish I could say the same for the new Mission of Burma, which seems like a bit of a misstep to me.
Wilco – Wilco (the album): Not necessarily one of their best albums, but one has to admire the cultural currency that Wilco has achieved, and which they use to their advantage most effectively here. Wilco has reached a place where the band can do whatever they please. They have a comfortably sized fan base that allows them to make a living off of music, and that is loyal enough to ensure that wherever the band goes, the audience will follow. This album was not profound, but was a great jab back at the critics who accuse them of self-importance or lacking a sense of humor. The juxtaposition of songs such as the murder narrative “Bull Black Nova” ensure that tension remains part of the dynamic. Oh, and “I’ll Fight?” One of the best songs of the year, I don’t care what anybody says.
Yo La Tengo – Popular Songs: This one came out of nowhere. Over the years, Yo La Tengo has consistently proven that it is capable of anything; on this album, it sets out to prove it in the space of four sides of vinyl. Progressing from spy-movie-strings-embellished psychedelia to warm indie pop to Motown bass and organ genre exercises to almost ambient soundscapes, the band here blend disparate sound palettes into a surprisingly coherent, engaging, and fun album. The pacing feels a bit odd with its obviously front-loaded tracklisting, placing the three long and quiet tracks at the very end, but that is ultimately the only criticism I am able to level at this almost-perfect album.
Vic Chesnutt – At the Cut: Hyperbole and discussion of the tragedy of his recent loss aside (that is another topic for another blog post), this is one of the most visceral and heartbreaking albums of the year, perhaps of the past several years. With members of Godspeed! You Black Emperor, A Silver Mt. Zion, and Fugazi as his backing band, Chesnutt crafts stunningly haunting and uncomfortably frank collection of odes to pain and death. The fact that “Flirted with You All My Life” was intended to be Vic’s “breakup song” with death and to signify that he was done with suicide attempts gives the album an even more grim and oppressive shadow to an already overwhelmingly powerful album.
The Mountain Goats – The Life of the World to Come: I have a complicated relationship with this album. This is my Get Lonely; the album that I just did not (and to this date still do not completely) get. Seeing the songs performed live have helped with some of it, but I still have problems. I have problems with some of the ultra-glossy production touches. I have problems with what seems to me at times like lazy songwriting; a lot of the guitar songs sound like conscious attempts to write a tMG song. Ultimately, though, I recognize that there is something compelling about this album that is pushing me to make the effort to try to get it, which is a sure-fire sign of a worthy piece of art. Even if I can’t keep all of those damned Bible verse track titles straight.
The Flaming Lips – Embryonic: I was ready to give up on the Flaming Lips. The Soft Bulletin was, I thought, one of the best albums of the ‘90s, hands down. I was disappointed in Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, but I stuck with them. I flat-out hated At War with the Mystics. It sounded awful and the songwriting – well, I would criticize the songwriting, but I remain convinced that there are no actual songs on there. I was hopeful concerning Embryonic, but cautiously so. I am happy to report, however, that this is perhaps an unprecedented return to form. The album is noisy, scattershot, rough around the edges, and certainly not for everyone. What it reminds me of the most, however, in spite of all the noise and sound experiments and utterly unique touches, is early Pink Floyd – think a cross between Barrett-era soundscapes such as “Astronomy Domine” and “Interstellar Overdrive” with, say, Meddle. It’s a completely psychedelic album, and it’s not too much of a stretch to imagine that if Pink Floyd were just starting today, with access to contemporary technology and musical influences, they may have sounded something like this.

There were, of course, other albums that caught my ear and tickled my fancy this year, but these are the ones that stand out the most standing here, almost a week into the new year. And now to rank the top ten:

Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest
Yo La Tengo – Popular Songs
Dirty Projectors – Bitte Orca
The Flaming Lips – Embryonic
John Vanderslice – Romanian Names
Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
Vic Chesnutt – At the Cut
The Mountain Goats – The Life of the World to Come
Antony and the Johnsons – The Crying Light
St. Vincent – Actor

As for what I am most looking forward to in 2010, here’s a taste of the albums coming out just in the first quarter:

Owen Pallett, Beach House, The Magnetic Fields, Spoon, Shearwater, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, Los Campesinos!, Retribution Gospel Choir

!!!

I have missed you all, and I hope you enjoyed slogging through this monster of a post (4 full pages in Microsoft Word!). I will talk to you all again soon – maybe even tomorrow? In the meantime, I invite you all to weigh in with your thoughts on my list or with a list of your own.

Obligatory Mid-year Round-up.

2009-06-30T17:01:00.004-04:00

Well, it's that time of year - the time when all pretentious would-be music critics (yours truly inclusive) sharpen their pencils (so to speak) and start to take stock of what the year has had in store for us. And thus far, the year has had quite a lot to offer; more so than the past several years, so far as I can remember.

In any case, you know the drill, so without much further ado, here are the ten records that, at this point, represent the cream of this year's crop so far, arranged alphabetically by artist:

Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion: Yes, it's kind of the hipster-contingent frontrunner at this point for album of the year, but it's also a fun, playful, and highly listenable album that is light years removed from their earliest work. It plays out almost like a greatest-hits album in a blender; the Collective borrow elements from each of their previous releases and sew them together into new pieces. Contrary to the impression such a description may give you, however, these sound not like pastiches or tapestries but like the fully-formed songs they are. A fun listen for the more adventurous or open-minded listener, and deserving of the increased mainstream exposure the band has been receiving.

Casiotone for the Painfully Alone - Vs. Children: Owen Ashworth's songwriting is more cutting than ever here, his pathos more affecting, and the production more ambitious and ornate than ever - a fact that may represent a point of contention for some long-time fans, but to my ears, the warm sound of the production helps draw the listener into these songs, and Owen sounds at home in this environment. Besides, the cold, harsh lo-fi setting of his earlier material may have been too alienating to really engage listeners in this album that my friend Jess aptly describes as being about "what happens when those barely past childhood have children themselves."

Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse - Dark Night of the Soul: Technically speaking, this album has not been released. Not officially, anyway. The project, a multimedia collaboration between the two principal musicians to whom the album has been credited, David Lynch, and several like-minded musicians such as the Flaming Lips, James Mercer, Gruff Rhys, Iggy Pop, Black Francis, and Jason Lytle, among others, was originally announced to a near-instant fever-pitch of excitement and anticipation early in the spring. Soon, however, it was announced that the music would NOT see official release due to a dispute between EMI and Danger Mouse; Burton made a statement that he feared he could not release the album for sale without being sued. Therefore, the art exhibit opened, and the coffee-table book of Lynch's photography was indeed released, accompanied by a blank CD-R, labeled "DNOTS," that the consumer is advised to "use as you see fit." Take that how you will; I'm sure the man who created the Grey Album would never really encourage piracy, right? Anyhow, enough about the back story; the music creates a wonderful sustained mood, without the jarring effect of contrary styles from which various-artist collections often suffer; Burton and Linkous are the sonic putty that holds everything together and smooths over the disparate styles and tendencies. At current, you can stream the entire album from NPR's website; if, however, you would like it in more permanent form, don't panix; with a little searching, I am sure you can find a solution and perhaps even a way to use that pretty little CD-R artifact.

Dinosaur Jr. - Farm: Beyond was a solid enough album that picked up right where Bug left off, but I never saw this coming. J. Mascis, Lou Barlow, and Murph have decided to make this album live up to the title of its predecessor by venturing outside of the usual moods of your standard-issue Dinosaur Jr. album. Rather than settling with what they know, the band has honed their glorious squall into a more pastoral, relaxed record. For the first time, Mascis doesn't just sound like a bored, discontented teenager in his songs; apparently he just needed to wait until he was 43 before his songwriting started to mature. Noise, distortion, and guitar solos galore, but from a slightly more pragmatic point of view and with a more laid-back mood. "Plans" may well be Mascis's finest song yet, and will likely be near the top of my list of my favorite songs of the year come December.

Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca: I didn't want to like this record, but David Longstreth didn't give me a chance to hate it. When Bill and I saw this band a few years ago, the willfully detuned and off-key chords, relentlessly lazy and lugubrious rhythms, and Robert Palmer-esque backing band led Bill to proclaim that the band had "broken indie rock." Then came the irresistible David Byrne collaboration on the Dark Was the Night charity compilation, and then came the brilliant single, "Stillness is the Move." Finally, the girls in the band are revealed not to be the props they appeared to be on the Rise Above tour, but rather Longstreth's secret weapon. Gifted with Kate Bush-inspired vocal acrobatics, an impressive range, and some actual inventive pop structure instead of discordant avant-trash, Longstreth and crew have crafted the year's biggest surprise by giving us a big, fun summer pop record.

Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest: These past few years Grizzly Bear has proven to be the Little Band that Could, displaying enormous leaps of growth in their soundscaping and songwriting prowess, and readjusting their ambition level accordingly. With this most recent album, Grizzly Bear have seemingly created an opus of incredible beauty, both gossamer and watertight at the same time. Chris Taylor's basslines, Christopher Bear's deft drumwork, and gorgeous four-part harmonies work together to draw listeners into a trance-like state, and the psychedelic influence shines through a bit more than it had on Yellow House. The only question this album leaves the listener with: where does the band go from here?

the Mountain Goats and John Vanderslice - Moon Colony Bloodbath: A 7-song limited-edition, tour-only, collaborative concept EP that is long on concept and backstory and short on real action, this is possibly the most controversial work I am including on this list. And perhaps it was inevitable that I should include it; after all, my adoration for both of these artists is a matter of record, and the intense anticipation for this record, not to mention the tribulations involved in actually securing a copy, threatened to overshadow the material itself. Fortunately, the material shines through strongly; the record is richly imagined, the concept and story thought out in some painstaking detail, and while there may not seem to be much of a payoff to deliver on the promise of the concept, I prefer to think that it is deliberately left open-ended so the one can use one's own imagination to fill in the sordid details. Not to mention, it's exciting to hear two such well-developed and idiosyncratic artists push and pull at each other, gently luring the other out of his respective comfort zone.

St. Vincent - Actor: Marry Me was a highlight of 2007 and one of the strongest and most self-assured debut albums in recent memory. With her new album, Annie Clark has dialed up the volume, fleshing out the arrangements with lots of prettiness (violin, clarinet, and flute arrangements ahoy!) before blasting them all to hell with squalls of violent guitar noise. The whole thing sounds a little dangerous, unstable, and unhinged, a perception that song titles like "Laughing With a Mouth of Blood" do nothing to refute - Clark's songwriting persona seems to have gone from the slightly creepy menace of "Now, Now" into flat-out terrifying mode. As far as not-quite-resolved tension through compressed layering of discordant sounds goes, it's tough to beat the end of "Black Rainbow."

John Vanderslice - Romanian Names: You may have already seen my thoughts on this album, so I will keep this brief. JV has outdone himself in terms of songwriting and attention to sonic detail, and the seeming incongruity between the painstaking sculpting of the sounds with the relaxed songwriting makes the songs even more compelling and appealing. The best album yet in a seven-album career, John Vanderslice continues to be the perennially overlooked and underrated workhorse, the stalwart and remarkably consistent and dependable indie rock nice guy. Between this and Moon Colony Bloodbath, if 2009 does not prove to be his breakout year, then there may truly be no justice in the world.

various artists - Dark Was the Night: This charity album was/is an indie rock fan's wet dream. Thirty-one exclusive tracks from some of indie rock's biggest names, all coming together courtesy of the efforts of The National's Dessner brothers to raise money for AIDS relief. There were collaborations, some likely (Grizzly Bear and Feist) and some not (Dirty Projectors and David Byrne); phenomenal new tracks from out of nowhere (seriously, "So Far Around the Bend" by the National?!?!?); surprises in the form of older unreleased tracks (Arcade Fire's "Lenin"); a 12-minute Sufjan cover of a Castanets song; and, as is to be expected in such a voluminous project, a couple of disappointments or missteps (Conor Oberst covering himself, and does anyone else find the Spoon contribution somehow lacking?). All in all, though, this project feels important and all-encompassing when one listens to it, like it's truly an event and not just another various-artists charity collection. Hats off to the Dessners, the Red Hot Organization, and all of the artists who devoted their time and energy to this project.

Curious why you didn't see your favorite album of the year so far on my list? Let me know what I missed! Please discuss below, and tell me what album I need to hear or what album I need to listen to again and re-evaluate! For the record, this is the pool of releases so far this year that I have heard. Note that in my world, Live albums, reissues, and odds-and-ends collections are generally not eligible for general list honors, and an EP needs to be REALLY impressive in order to rank:

Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
Antony and the Johnsons – The Crying Light
Art Brut – Art Brut vs. Satan
Bat for Lashes – Two Suns
Beirut/Realpeople – March of the Zapotec/Holland
Andrew Bird – Noble Beast
Andrew Bird – Useless Creatures
Bowerbirds – Upper Air
The Boy Least Likely To – The Law of the Playground
Camera Obscura – My Maudlin Career
Neko Case – Middle Cyclone
Casiotone for the Painfully Alone – Vs. Children
Jarvis Cocker – “Further Complications.”
Elvis Costello – Secrets Profane and Sugarcane
Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse – Dark Night of the Soul
The Decemberists – The Hazards of Love
Depeche Mode – Sounds of the Universe
Dinosaur Jr. – Farm
Dirty Projectors – Bitte Orca
Bob Dylan – Together Through Life
Franz Ferdinand – Tonight: Franz Ferdinand
Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest
Handsome Furs – Face Control
PJ Harvey and John Parish – A Woman a Man Walked By
Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3 – Goodnight Oslo
Jeffrey Lewis and the Junkyard – ‘Em Are I
Rhett Miller - Rhett Miller
Morrissey – Ringleader of the Tormentors
Marissa Nadler – Little Hells
A.C. Newman – Get Guilty
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Beware
Sonic Youth – The Eternal
Bruce Springsteen – Working on a Dream
St. Vincent – Actor
Stardeath and White Dwarfs – The Birth
Sunset Rubdown – Dragonslayer
Swan Lake – Enemy Mine
John Vanderslice – Romanian Names
M. Ward – Hold Time
Wilco – Wilco (the album)
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – It’s Blitz!
V/A – Dark Was the Night
V/A – War Child: Heroes
V/A – Score! The Covers

EPs:

Bon Iver – Blood Bank
The Breeders – Fate to Fatal
Death Cab for Cutie – The Open Door EP
Deerhunter – Rainwater Exchange Cassette
the Mountain Goats and John Vanderslice – Moon Colony Bloodbath
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Chijimi
Sleep Whale – Sleep Whale

Reissues:

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – From Her to Eternity
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – The Firstborn Is Dead
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – Kicking Against the Pricks
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – Your Funeral… My Trial
Rodriguez – Coming From Reality
Wwax – Like It or Not

Live Albums:

Leonard Cohen – Live in London
The Hold Steady – A Positive Rage
Mark Kozelek – Lost Verses Live
Mark Kozelek – Find Me, Ruben Olivares
My Morning Jacket - Celebración de la Ciudad Natal
Superchunk – Clambake Vol. IV

Odds-and-Ends Collections/Remix Records:

Casiotone for the Painfully Alone – Advance Battery Base Life
Comet Gain – Broken Record Prayers
Franz Ferdinand – Blood
Iron & Wine – Around the Well
The Vaselines – Enter the Vaselines

With Love and Trust and Friends and Hammers: A Flaws mix

2009-06-29T18:43:00.002-04:00

So I have received some positive feedback on the Flaws Mix CD mixer, as well as even a few submissions - thank you to those who have participated so far, and I promise to start on your mixes and send you my source material as soon as I'm done with this move! For now, though, in a rare moment of weather-related inspiration while driving a week or to back, I started to devise a summer mix in my head. And so, without further ado, I would like to share with all of you the official Flaws Summer 2009 mix, courtesy of 8tracks.com!

Note that after listening to the mix twice, the license at the 8tracks site requires that subsequent playbacks are shuffled in random order. Now, this frankly irritates somebody like me, who puts a lot of time and thought and energy into timing and sequencing his mixes, even to the point of trying to make the two "sides" more or less of even duration. Therefore, to counteract this grievance, I would like to put an offer out on the table: if, after listening to this mix, you decide that you would like to have it in a more permanent and physical format, I will make and send you a copy of the mix, in exchange for a summer mix of your own.

But, in any case, I hope you listen to and enjoy this mix. And if you're up for it, consider joining up over at 8tracks.com; it will allow you to discover countless mixes, comment on mixes, follow those of whose mixes you are a fan, and of course upload and share your own mixes!

And I'm serious about the physical copy offer... just e-mail me from the link over to the left. And same thing goes with the Mix CD mixer; it's an ongoing project! Hooray for overextending oneself!

General update/to-do list.

2009-06-21T14:46:00.003-04:00

Still must write and post reviews of NIN|JA, Band of Horses, John Vanderslice, and Zoop! concerts. If I end up going to see Old 97's tonight, that will be added to the never-ending to-do list.
In the next few days I plan on blogging about an upcoming EP from an Denton, Texas band called Sleep Whale. The EP is very good indeed, and I'm excited to share it!
Today marks the first day of the Infinite Summer. Are you in?
Thanks to the support of everyone, I raised $1125 for the autism walk, besting my goal by 50%. Now I have a ton of cover songs to record. If anyone else still wants in, I will be accepting requests until June 30. Click on the thermometer to your left or go to http://tinyurl.com/thom09.
Seriously, should I go see the Old 97's tonight? I have never seen them before, so I'm thinking maybe I should.
Oh yeah, I have been vegetarian for nine days now. It's a small, possibly lame milestone, but it's a big change for me and I'm proud of it. I will blog more about it later this week, possibly. (See, I told you this wasn't just another music blog!)
Seeing the film Food, Inc. later this week. You all should, too.

We're gonna build read something this summer.

2009-06-21T14:37:00.005-04:00

For those who are ~~joining me~~ in taking on the challenge of Infinite Summer, here are some valuable tips and resources that will hopefully help us in our light reading project:

How to read Infinite Jest.

Printable Infinite Summer bookmarks with the reading schedule. (after reading the previous entry, I would probably recommend printing out the 5-bookmark sheet)

~~Note that while I will likely be reading ahead of the official schedule, I will make every effort in any blogging or discussion in which I may engage to avoid revealing spoilers.~~

Please comment below and let me know if you are participating!

This is how I am repaid: The Decemberists/Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3, 2009.06.06

2009-06-09T21:23:00.005-04:00

The Decemberists/Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3
Tower Theater
Philadelphia, PA
2009.06.06

I never wrote about it on this site (mostly because, let’s face it, I was pretty much ignoring this site until just a couple of weeks ago), but the new album from the Decemberists, The Hazards of Love, has ranked highly on my list of the biggest musical disappointments of the year. I was excited for the album, and was prepared to fall head-over-heels in love with it; really, I was. I wanted to memorize every word and to dutifully listen to the entire saga at least once a week. I wanted this to be the album that fulfilled the widescreen ambition of “The Tain.” Instead, I found the album to be tedious, dull, confusing, unmemorable, and, ultimately, underwhelming in spite of its by-design overwhelmingness. Of course, by the time the album came out and I had gotten the chance to bask in its apparent mediocrity, I had already had the tickets for this show for a month. Although I was at first excited at the prospect of seeing the band perform what should have been its magnum opus in its entirety, I swiftly began to regret purchasing tickets for the show, especially as both Art Brut and the Roots Picnic were announced for the same date.

Flash forward to this past Saturday. After a quick dinner at Pico de Gallo and a madcap, Paperboy-inspired rush through the city, Jenn and I entered the Tower Theater and found our seats. I was excited that Robyn Hitchcock was opening the show; in fact, I was perhaps more excited to see Hitchcock than I was for the main act at this point. It must be said that I have not purchased a Robyn Hitchcock album since 1999’s Jewels for Sophia, so going into this show I assumed I would be unfamiliar with most of the material. I also was unfamiliar with the makeup of his backing band, the Venus 3. I had been aware that he had been doing some work lately with R.E.M. guitarist Peter Buck, as well as Young Fresh Fellows/the Minus 5 main man and touring R.E.M. member Scott McCaughey. What I was not aware of was that the Venus 3 was basically a stripped-down version of R.E.M. – I was shocked to see Peter Buck stroll out onto a smaller stage than I could ever reasonably hope to see R.E.M. play, along with Scott McCaughey and touring R.E.M. drummer Bill Rieflin.

The entire band was in fantastic form, and I had forgotten in the nine years since I had last seen him live just how devastatingly funny Hitchcock was in concert – the absurdity of his ramblings left one simultaneously rolling with laughter and scratching one’s head looking for comprehension. (“Well, it is June, which means that Halloween is in October this year, and this is a wonderful time to be in Philadelphia, because Halloween is coming up soon. Get ready to carve your pumpkins!”) A series of increasingly tiny tour companions/mascots being introduced (a penguin, an alligator, and a cone) presented other moments of surreal, absurd humor that seemed to confuse just as many people as they tickled.

I do not mean, however, to imply that the banter stole the show from the music. Far from it – Hitchock’s music came off as vital and energetic. Opener “I Often Dream of Trains” pleased the fair number of already-familiar fans in the audience before Hitchcock and company veered into a set comprised mostly of ear-pleasing recent material. The Byrdsian jangle of “I’m Falling” was a particular highlight to me, as well as the obvious-but-still-funny ode to media anaesthetization “Television,” Rachel Getting Married centerpiece song “Up to our Nex,” and the twenty-year-old “Queen of Wasps,” which was the only other older song played by the band. Buck’s jangly guitar style was a perfect match for Hitchcock’s whimsical songwriting style, and the newer songs played were good enough that I felt not a twinge of hesitation as I purchased a copy of the most recent album, Goodnight Oslo, and had it signed by both Hitchcock and Buck.

There is no way to build up to this effectively, so let me just cut to the chase and spoil it for you now: the Decemberists rocked it, and they managed to acquit themselves admirably and prove me wrong about The Hazards of Love. Perhaps it was the added effect of seeing the band make the transition from song to song expertly and professionally, perhaps it was the stage presence of Colin Meloy and Shara Worden, perhaps it was the chemistry that I must stubbornly admit that Mr. Meloy and Becky Stark had, or perhaps it was the fact that, as a captive audience being presented with the material at loud volume, I actually listened fully for the first time. Whatever the reason was, the fact is that the album clicked for me for the first time. Where its 60 minutes had previously seemed to drag on for multiple hours, here it flew by and left me wanting more. Where the whole piece had seemed to blend into some bloated, ultimately insignificant blur of disconnected sounds with no real songs distinguishable from the whole apart from obvious single “The Rake’s Song,” here the individual songs took shape and individual identities.

The puzzling thing about this is the fact that there was, to my ears, no difference between the studio version of the album and the live version. The Decemberists at this point are an accomplished and professional enough band to pull off a suite such as this and play it exactly as it is on record – I caught no mistakes, no timing changes, no flubbed lines or bum notes or missed drum beats. It was all perfect. Added to that is the pristine sound of the Tower – even from practically the extreme right wall of the room, there was no echo. The live mix perfectly balanced all the elements, so nobody overpowered and nobody got drowned out. The band took the stage without addressing the audience at all, and did not stop playing, speak to the crowd, or in any other way break character throughout the first set. It was a performance in the truest sense of the word.

And what a performance it was! Mr. Meloy rocked out at several times, taking obvious delight in some of the unexpectedly sludgy riffs that pepper the suite. Ms. Stark, playing the role of Margaret, had the biggest hurdle to clear; I had seen her band, Lavender Diamond, open for the Decemberists a couple of years ago, and I was none too impressed by the band and was particularly not a fan of Ms. Stark. At that show, she seemed to be conveying an image of purity, innocence, and a vaguely hippie-ish sense of idealism that felt disingenuous. Even worse, her singing voice seemed blandly unimpressive and she had no physical stage presence. I was disappointed when I had learned she would be playing a prominent role on this album. Live, however, she displayed at least an improvement in her stage presence; her first entrance as Margaret, dressed in a white bridal gown, saw her executing a provocatively sensual, undulating shimmy up to the mic, swaying in time to the rhythm established by the band, injecting a brazen and unexpected sense of sexuality into the character and the scene. While her voice still left much to be desired, it was obvious that her touring with Lavender Diamond had allowed her to grow as a vocalist.

She was completely out-awesomed on every level, however, by Ms. Shara Worden, playing the queen. In her little black dress, Ms. Worden vamped, stomped, and generally took control of the stage during her too-few appearances in the storyline. While Jenn seemed to think that Ms. Worden’s overacting was unnecessary, I respectfully disagree; to me, the queen is the kind of character that was written to be a scene- and show-stealer, and the only way to effectively play such a character is to camp it up. And camp it up she did – Worden’s larger-than-life performance on “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid” definitely stole the show away from Meloy and elicited what sounded to me like the largest applause of any moment during the Hazards set, besides perhaps “The Rake’s Song,” which was performed by Mr. Meloy on acoustic guitar and vocals, Nate Query on electric bass, and the other five on-stage members all (!) playing drums in unison.

Of course, after playing Hazards and taking a well-deserved 15-minute break, the band were back, sans costumes, to play an abbreviated set of shorter, more self-contained, and less thematically and narratively-loaded songs. After all the restraint he displayed during the main set, Mr. Meloy here perhaps went overboard on the banter, proclaiming himself a charter member of MACOF (Musicians Against the Calling Out of Freebird) and, in one head-scratching moment, declared that the chord change in “Dracula’s Daughter” is “douchey.” (Really, Colin? With the vocabulary you display in your songs, you choose to go there?) The music, however, was top notch, and was a great plate-cleanser after the intensity of the live Hazards experience.

The highlights here undoubtedly were saved for the climactic final two songs of the set – “The Chimbley Sweep,” which saw Mr. Meloy and Chris Funk hand off their guitars to audience members and run into the audience, shaking hands and high-fiving; and a ripping, energetic cover of Heart’s “Crazy on You,” with Ms. Worden and Ms. Stark trading off lines and verses, and Ms. Stark once again coming out of the deal overshadowed. It was an epically huge performance and was executed – imagine this – without an ounce of irony detectable. The encore stated off slowly with a performance of the rather meh Picaresque outtake “The Bandit Queen,” but improved exponentially with a singalong performance of “Sons & Daughters.”

Although I walked in to the theater convinced I was going to have a terrible time at this show, the Decemberists managed to prove me wrong, and I was humbled by the technical precision of their show, as well as by the care that went in to the visual presentation of the concert (the backdrop may have looked like nothing at first, but it really became quite a striking element of the performance). While I had started to doubt the greatness of the band, I am impressed that they managed to follow up a record that got my vote for biggest disappointment of the year with the most unexpected success of the year.

Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3 setlist:

I Often Dream of Trains
What You Is
Saturday Groovers
Madonna of the Wasps
I'm Falling
Television
Up to Our Nex
Creeped Out
The Authority Box
Goodnight Oslo

The Decemberists setlist:

Prelude
The Hazards of Love (The Prettiest Whistles Won't Wrestle the Thistles Undone)
A Bower Scene
Won't Want for Love (Margaret in the Taiga)
The Hazards of Love 2 (Wager All)
The Queen's Approach
Isn't It a Lovely Night?
The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid
An Interlude
The Rake's Song
The Abduction of Margaret
The Queen's Rebuke/The Crossing
Annan Water
Margaret in Captivity
The Hazards of Love 3 (Revenge!)
The Wanting Comes in Waves (reprise)
The Hazards of Love 4 (The Drowned)
----------------------------------------------
The Crane Wife 3
Shiny
Sleepless
July, July!
Summersong
Dracula's Daughter
O Valencia!
The Chimbley Sweep
Crazy on You
-----------------------------------------------
The Bandit Queen
Sons & Daughters

Complete set of photos from the show, as usual, can be viewed at Flickr.

Like a god, or a good luck charm, or a vice: PJ Harvey & John Parish, 2009.06.07

2009-06-08T00:54:00.003-04:00

PJ Harvey & John Parish/Pop Parker
The Trocadero
Philadelphia, PA
2009.06.07

It is almost 1:00 AM and I am tired, but I feel like I just need to churn this one out right now. I just got back from seeing PJ Harvey and John Parish play the Philadelphia stop on their first joint US tour (possibly their first joint tour ever? Can anybody confirm this?). Harvey and Parish put out a collaborative album back in 1996 called Dance Hall at Louse Point, a collection which often fell squarely within the experimental side of the songwriting spectrum. Although it had its share of good tunes, the album as a whole never felt entirely cohesive to me and just never fully clicked with me. Still, as a PJ Harvey devotee, I have held onto the album all these years and every now and then pull it out and give it a listen.

Its experimental nature, lack of promotion or live acknowledgment of its songs, and relative forgotten status among the record-buying public made it one of the candidates for the least likely side project to spawn a follow-up album. So imagine my surprise when, earlier this year, it was announced that PJ Harvey and John Parish would release their second collaboration, A Woman a Man Walked By. I dutifully picked up the album on release day to find it a curious listen of which I could not quite make heads or tails - it was filled with moments of pure pop songwriting the likes of which were not hinted at on Dance Hall (see "Black Hearted Love" and "Passionless, Pointless"), but its more abrasive or experimental moments were utterly uncompromising, making similar gestures on Dance Hall seem like training drills. The album came out of nowhere with little advance notice, and demanded that you accept it on its own terms or leave it be.

The show last night was opened by UK singer/songwriter Pop Parker, who took the stage with his acoustic guitar and strummed some pretty chords while gently crooning, "Mother, mother, mother, mother..." Just when you thought he was about to sing an utterly unironic, tender ode, he continues, "mother, mother, FUCK!" with a muted pound on the strings. This short, nonsensical song set up the duality present in most of the songs he played during his half-hour set: they tended to comprise chord progressions and melodies that were superficially pretty and pleasing to the ear, but the lyrics, which initially hint toward tenderness and sincerity, show a preference for reversal either into the vulgar or into anxiety and hopelessness. Unfortunately, though I found myself chuckling at the cleverness of many of Mr. Parker's lines, I have found that the songs are not as memorable as they first seemed to be. (Of course, that could just be the mind-erasing effect of seeing PJ Harvey perform directly afterwards.)

Harvey and Parish's set - where to begin? First of all, it needs to be said that PJ Harvey doesn't just perform, she commands the stage. While she may not fall into the conventionally attractive category, I personally have always found her beautiful, with a sense of confidence, self-assuredness, and power that only adds to her air of mystery and makes her more attractive. She took the stage last night barefoot in a simple black dress, fingernails painted black. Lest it sound like PJ Harvey: In a Goth Mood, though, I should add that she was all smiles through the night - there were several moments, in fact, between songs where she and Mr. Parish simply stood there, beaming at each other, basking in the zealous applause of the crowd of die-hard fans.

These are the fans, after all, who knew all the songs by heart - the forgotten side project from thirteen years ago. And although I didn't think I had listened to Dance Hall all that much, I was surprised at how much I knew of the songs - the words came right back to me. The stage and the lighting were both as unadorned as Ms. Harvey's stage costume. Under the stark conditions, the sometimes skeletal songs were even more striking. A particular standout for me was "Taut," always a favorite of mine. While the studio version features Ms. Harvey whispering the vocals in a frightened tone that gave the song a terrifying edge, here she sang the song in a more self-aware tone that suggested the narrator of the song was not so helpless as she had previously seemed, adding an additional layer of melancholy and pity to the story.

Harvey and Parish, with a three piece band, including legendary keyboardist and bassist Eric Drew Feldman, ended up playing for nearly 90 minutes, including a lengthy encore break during which they really made the crowd work for it; I had begun to think that perhaps they really weren't coming back out. In typical uncompromising fashion, the encore was somewhat anticlimactic - the band played a John Parish solo song called "False Fire," and ended the evening with the slow, melancholy, and eerie song "April" from A Woman a Man Walked By. Ending the show on such a note left this reviewer with a somewhat uneasy feeling - though they could have gone the easy route and sated the crowd with a reading of "Is That All There Is?", "City of No Sun," or any song from PJ Harvey's back catalog, they chose to end with possibly the least likely song from either of their two albums and leave the adoring crowd wanting more. Judging from the rapturous applause, in which the pair basked for a moment before filing off stage, the crowd did want more - but they were appreciative just to have gotten anything at all from this reclusive pair of talents.

Setlist:

Black Hearted Love

Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen

Rope Bridge Crossing

Urn with Dead Flowers in a Drained Pool

Civil War Correspondent

The Soldier

Taut

Un cercle autour du soleil

The Chair

Leaving California

A Woman a Man Walked By

Passionless, Pointless

Cracks in the Canvas

Pig Will Not

------------------------------------------

False Fire

April

I had to check my camera, but I did take a few crappy iPhone photos. Vanity forbids me from using them, since my standards are higher, but since I like including photographs with my reviews, I will likely relent. Not tonight, though.

A supposedly fun thing I'll probably bail on.

2009-06-07T16:52:00.006-04:00

92 days.

981 pages of prose. small print.

97 pages of footnotes.

~~two weeks from today, i will be dropping whatever i'm reading to participate in infinite summer.~~

~~who's with me? let's discuss!~~

Backlog/upcoming show schedule/autism fundraising.

2009-06-07T14:38:00.006-04:00

So lately, I've been a busy busy bee, which explains why it took me so long to get the Grizzly Bear review up. In that time, I have seen a few shows which need to be reviewed:

June 5 - Jane's Addiction/Nine Inch Nails/Street Sweeper Social Club

June 6 - The Decemberists/Robyn Hitchcock & the Venus 3

Plus, I have several shows coming up:

June 7 - PJ Harvey & John Parish

June 11 - Band of Horses/Arbouretum (acoustic)

June 12 - John Vanderslice/The Tallest Man on Earth

June 13-14 - Zoop! (the Mountain Goats/John K. Samson/Peter Hughes)

I am going to try to get the NIN/JA, Decemberists, and PJ Harvey reviews up on the blog next week, but I make no promises; my work schedule has been hell lately, and the rest of my schedule is absolutely hellish this week; on Monday and Tuesday I have two different doctor appointments, and Wednesday is pretty much my last evening I have free to make preparations and pack for Zoop!

And while I have you here, I'd like to talk to you a bit about my autism fundraiser. To your left you should see a thermometer that represents how far along I am in my fundraising efforts for my autism walk. I have worked with individuals with developmental disabilities for nearly ten years, and this is a cause that is important to me. This year, I have set a rather ambitious fundraising goal for myself, and I am hoping that you will consider donating to help me reach my goal.

As a thank you, should you choose to help, I will accept a request for one family-friendly cover song, which I will record and then distribute to all donors on a compilation CD. This is my third year playing cover songs for donations, and so far it is my most successful year yet. Last year, I covered Coldplay, Lou Reed, Shearwater, Okkervil River, Bob Dylan, *NSYNC, and the Most Unwanted Song. Two years ago, this atrocity was unleashed upon the world in exchange for some much-needed funding for autism research:

I would like to assure you also that 100% of your donation will go to the autism fund; the cost of production and distribution of the CD is handled completely out of pocket by me.

And, just to raise the ante, if I reach my goal of $750, Bill and I will collaborate on a sequel/continuation of the Mountain Goats and John Vanderslice's brilliant Moon Colony Bloodbath EP. If I do not reach the goal, this does not happen. The MCB sequel is in addition to the cover song compilation, not instead of.

If you are able to help out, I would appreciate if you donate by clicking on the thermometer to the left or by going to http://tinyurl.com/thom09. If you do not want to donate online, you can e-mail me by clicking the e-mail link to your left and I will send you instructions on where and how to mail in a check. If you donate, please e-mail me your request rather than leaving it in the comments; I think it's more fun when the songs are a surprise for all of the recipients!

The walk is this coming Saturday, June 13, but I will continue to raise money until the end of July. Thanks in advance for your support, and thank you as always for reading!

Keeping up with the motions: Grizzly Bear, 2009.06.02.

2009-06-07T14:12:00.001-04:00

Grizzly Bear/Here We Go Magic

The Trocadero

Philadelphia, PA

2009.06.02

When I met Ed Droste from Grizzly Bear last year before Radiohead’s Camden show, I made him wince with just a few simple words: “The first time I saw you guys was at the Knitting Factory in 2005.” With a grimace, Mr. Droste replied, “God, we were rough back then.” While I would not agree with Mr. Droste’s self-deprecating and dismissive assessment of the band’s early live performances, during which they were still trying to find their collective voice, I bring it up because I think it speaks volumes about Grizzly Bear’s evident and rapid reinventon, refinement, and remodeling of its own image. In short, although the lineup is the same, the band that I saw at the Trocadero on Tuesday evening is not the same band that took the stage to open for the Mountain Goats on Halloween of 2005. (It would be unfair to compare the records, since Horn of Plenty is essentially a solo bedroom project from Droste.)

The show, which was my fifth Grizzly Bear show, although it was my first time seeing them in a headlining capacity, featured Here We Go Magic as the opening act, a band that I had heard of (most likely due to their support act slot for Grizzly Bear member Daniel Rossen’s other songwriting vehicle, Department of Eagles) but never actually heard. A quick listen to a YouTube video posted on their website told me that they basically sounded like a less trippy, more whimsical Animal Collective clone. Fortunately, their live show disproved this quick and possibly lazy assessment. The five-piece band did display myriad easily-recognizable influences – among them Animal Collective (the drummer frequently fell into a primal, insistent tom beat that only needed some delay in order to sound like an imitation of Panda Bear’s style) and Radiohead (one of the songs midway through the set featured guitar interplay eerily similar to “Arpeggi” – yet it has proven impossible for me to definitively peg down their sound or to compare them to any particular band. Which is not to say that they were shrouded in mystery; I did not find them nearly that intriguing. In fact, I was not particularly impressed until the band seemed to hit its stride during the last three songs or so of the set. The next-to-last song in particular – the one during which the singer took to the keyboards (sorry, I don’t know band member names or song titles) – was an interesting and compelling song that left me wanting more. For the most part, however, four days after seeing them play I find much of their set forgettable.

As the stage was being set for Grizzly Bear, the excitement and anticipation in the sold-out room was palpable. This is one thing that has puzzled me; while I am obviously a fan of Grizzly Bear and obviously I am happy for them and do not in any way begrudge their seemingly sudden success (yay alliteration!) and ascension into current indie rock royalty, I am not exactly sure of HOW this happened. How did such a reserved, nuanced, subtle band suddenly become one of the it-bands of the year? Surely the support slot for Radiohead last year and the media boost from Jonny Greenwood must have helped, but I am amazed by just how big they seem to have gotten nearly overnight. And my Flickr and blog support this; within 24 hours of my initial posting of the setlist on this blog and the photographs of the show on my Flickr page, both pages registered record-high numbers of hits.

However, this is a review of the show and not of the phenomenon. The setlist yielded few surprises: Very little from Horn of Plenty, a choice handful from Yellow House, and seven songs from this year’s mighty (and mighty pretty) Veckatimest. Having already seen them four times, I knew what to expect: the band sets up with all four members sharing the front of the stage; the harmonies are just as achingly beautiful live as they are on record; Chris Taylor makes lots of endearingly silly faces while singing the high vocals on “Knife” and pulls out his clarinet for some bass tones, always one of the sonic highlights of a Grizzly Bear show.

There is something about Grizzly Bear’s stage presence which I am not sure I can articulate that makes them extremely compelling and exciting to see. They are not a particularly visceral band – even during their rock-out moments, do not expect to see any of the band members jumping or thrashing about. Everything about Grizzly Bear seems to be about control and restraint. As such, apart from Mr. Droste’s slight dance moves during “Cheerleader,” there is not much movement. Every sound seems carefully considered, as if one wrong thread will ruin the overall effect of the tapestry. Yet, as careful and considered and fragile as the music seems, there is still a physicality to the music that lends the performance a weight not present in the records, no matter how close to perfect they may be.

The highlight of this show, besides the absolute gorgeousness that is “While You Wait for the Others” and the magical, rolling melody that makes “Ready, Able” such an irresistible tune was the completely unexpected introduction of special guest Victori Legrand from the band Beach House to song along with the boys on current single “Two Weeks.” Although it seemed to my ears like her microphone was a little low and her presence ultimately didn’t add terribly much to the sonic palette, the response from the audience made this feel like a capital-E Event, and immediately upped the ante for the song. Additionally, the sublime performance of “Fix It” was a personal highlight for me; although I have heard this performed several times before, it has never sounded quite so nuanced and psychedelic as it did Tuesday night. The hushed performance of “Shift” was also very pleasant, and I was happy that Grizzly Bear performed two of my favorites from the first album – unlike other bands who pretend that their back catalogs have ceased to exist (I’m looking at you, the National).

Any gripes or criticisms of the show are minor: it would have been nice to maybe hear some more full-band arrangements or re-arrangements of Horn of Plenty songs; although seven songs from Veckatimest were played, I had already heard four of these (“Cheerleader,” “Fine for Now,” “Two Weeks,” “While You Wait for the Others”) performed last summer, and so it would have been nice to have had more variety in the new selections; and while it felt great to get out of a show before 11:00pm, the set seemed just a tad short. But, as I said, these are minor criticisms thrown in so that the review doesn’t seem completely fawning. These guys grow as performers every time I see them, and they also grow as songwriters and sonic sculptors with every album. On Veckatimest, they seem to have fulfilled the promise of Yellow House and taken that sound to its logical conclusion. I am not sure where they are going next, but I will be happy to follow them.

Grizzly Bear setlist:

Southern Point

Cheerleader

Little Brother

Knife

Fine For Now

Two Weeks (w/ Victoria Legrand)

Ready, Able

Shift

I Live With You

Fix It

While You Wait for the Others

On a Neck, On a Spit

---------------------------------------

Colorado

For another perspective on the show, I encourage you to visit AK’s review on her blog.

To see all of my photos from the show, please visit my Flickr page.

What Makes You Think I'm Enjoying Being Led to the Flood?: The National, 2009.05.29

2009-06-04T19:54:00.005-04:00

The National/Colin Stetson

The Electric Factory

Philadelphia, PA

2009.05.29

IV. Flirting with Disaster

As you will recall from last time, dear readers*, Anthony, Bill and I (and Bill’s girlfriend, Jess) had decided to fly in the face of disaster and thumb our noses at the National Curse, purchasing four tickets to the May 29 show at the Electric Factory. And predictably… nothing happened. There was no grand disaster. Hell, security didn’t even try to stop me and tell me that my camera wasn’t allowed. It all went so very, very smoothly. Perhaps the third time is a charm? (I decided to forgo the full description of the events leading up to the show itself, mostly because Bill has already posted a thoroughly entertaining, complete, and accurate account on his blog. He did mercifully leave out the part where I made an ass of myself and cracked the windshield of my car, but I just negated that act of kindness in spectacular style. Also, in case anyone is curious as to what my aka acquisitions were: The Thermals – Now We Can See LP; John Phillips – John, The Wolfking of L.A. LP; Red Hot + Bothered 10” compilation. Record stores are awesome.)

All that was left to do now was wait.

V. The Trick Is to Keep Breathing

Colin Stetson was the opening act. I did not know what to expect, having never heard of him before, but I was surprised to see the stage set up with a lone microphone, a baritone sax and what appeared to be an alto sax. When he came out and began playing unaccompanied, I began to wonder how an act such as he had been chosen to open for a rock band. This is not to say that he was bad – quite the opposite, in fact. He was wonderful. Unfortunately, I don’t really know how to explain his style. Bill described it as “techno played on a saxophone,” but I don’t really agree with that assessment (with all due respect, Bill). If anything, and I know that saying this makes me sound like a pretentious, over-intellectual douche, but his composition and even his playing style reminds me of the work of Erik Friedlander. The compositions, which I am assuming were originals, were marked with a good deal of unorthodox technique; techniques that I don’t know the names for, because I know almost zilch about saxophones and therefore cannot speak about his set with even a pretense of intelligence or knowledge. So I will stick to what I know: the music rocked without being rock music; his combination of sustained mournful tones through circular breathing with the groove of low pedal tones and an almost beatbox-like effect that he employed when playing the baritone created an effect that I had never heard from a sax player. I was kind of almost dancing, even, and everyone knows that the almost never happens. Mr. Stetson only played a four- or five-piece set, and seeing the amount of effort he put into playing the compositions, particularly those for the baritone, I was kind of surprised he played for that long; they obviously required a degree of physical stamina and discipline to which I simply could not relate. Looking around, I was surprised to see how many other people seemed to be enjoying his set. I had expected people to either be indifferently bored or to actively dislike it. Once again, my misanthropy and faux-elitism let me down.

VI. Go Ahead, Go Ahead, Throw Your Arms In the Air Tonight

The National were nothing short of powerful, captivating, and spellbinding from the start. Opening the set with a new song of quiet, controlled intensity, “The Runaway,” was a remarkably audacious move – not only did the band risk alienating fans by not drawing them in with an instantly recognizable song, but they also dared to set the bar almost impossibly high by kicking things off with what they must know is possibly one of their most endearingly majestic and hypnotic songs yet. Indeed, the song was one of the absolute high water marks of the show for me, and is quickly making me very excited for the next album.

The National live are all about presence. Looking at my photos, you will note that Matt Berninger has approximately two “poses” while singing; in essence, if you’ve seen one photo of Matt performing you’ve seen them all. Photographically, this would suggest a certain stasis, a stiffness, a detachment from the performance. In truth, however, none of this is true. While Mr. Berninger may look boring/ed in the photographs, witnessing him perform live, the closest analogy I can think of is a preacher; there is such an intensity to his stage presence, and when he grips the microphone just so and half-hugs himself, it is with CONVICTION. And his eyes, when he opens them, have that slightly wild, distant look that is often associated with the true fanatic. When he’s not at the microphone, Mr. Berninger stalks around the stage like a feline, pacing back and forth, eyeing the crowd, seeming to focus in on the energy of the room and feed off of it. Unfortunately, anybody who has not seen the National live probably cannot recognize any of this in the photos. Those of us who have shared this experience, know, though. The National, in spite of the brooding, is an affirmation of life, a controlled explosion of energy and emotion.

The band, augmented by three horn players (including Colin Stetson) and keyboardist Doveman, was flawless, in spite of the absence of violinist Padma Newsome. I don’t want this review to turn into a groveling praise fest, but the band were really just that good. I really only have two criticisms to offer. The first is the setlist: it would really be nice for the band to acknowledge that they released records before Alligator. Seriously, “Fashion Coat,” “Murder Me Rachael,” “Wasp Nest”… I would have loved to hear almost any of the songs from Cherry Tree or Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers. Or even rearrangements of songs from the first album. And what about a stripped-down reading of “So Far Around the Bend”? As much as I love both Alligator and Boxer, I think some representation of their pre-fame albums wouldn’t hurt. As it is, their current live set makes it seem as if these two albums are the length and breadth of their career. I just think that sticking almost exclusively to this material represents a missed opportunity and almost implies that the earlier work is inferior or unworthy, which is absolutely untrue.

My second complaint: the horn section absolutely ruined “Slow Show,” which is possibly my favorite song from Boxer. It’s a shame. That song needs to be more stripped down.

Still, though, when all is said and done these complaints/criticisms don’t amount to much. The boys put on a memorably spellbinding show, played their asses off, and debuted three songs that, if they are representative, indicate that album #5 could conceivably be their best yet. If that’s the trade-off, then sure, I’ll endure a curse.

Setlist:

The Runaway (new song)

Start a War

Mistaken for Strangers

Brainy

Secret Meeting

Baby, We'll Be Fine

Slow Show

Vanderlylle Crybaby (new song)

Squalor Victoria

All the Wine

Abel

Ada

Apartment Story

Green Gloves

Fake Empire

-------------------

Blood Buzz Ohio (new song)

Mr. November

About Today

For other perspectives on the show, I strongly urge you to check out Jess’s review over at Crawdaddy or A.D.’s review at Music Maven. Both are very well-written reviews by awesome people whose blogs you should be reading on a daily basis anyway.

My entire set of photos from this show can be viewed at Flickr.

Also, after all my praise of "The Runaway," why don't you check out this awesome, high quality live video of it, courtesy of QTV in Canada?

* - I kind of feel like, no matter how small it may be, I now have something of an “audience” or “reader base.” I hope it does not offend the two or three of you that I refer to you directly; this is a very exciting moment for me. Yes, I am a sad, sad man.

The National Curse: A History in Three Parts, or Prelude to a Concert Review

2009-06-04T01:24:00.003-04:00

I. Introduction

In order to fully grasp the significance of my attendance at the National’s concert last weekend, you need a little background into my show-going history, and a phenomenon known as “The National Curse.” I had been hearing a lot of praise for this band ever since the release of their second album, Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers. This was, of course, an awesome title, and I really wanted to check out the band, but I just never got around to it. By the time their universally-hyped third album, Alligator, came out, I had sort of lost interest in actively trying to check them out.

Then, as it turned out, they were announced as the opening act for Arcade Fire’s initial U.S. tour in support of Neon Bible. I had tickets for the May 5, 2007 show at the Tower Theater, and was vaguely looking forward to finally hearing the band. Bill was also at this show, although we traveled separately and were not sitting together. When all was said and done, I ended up being really impressed by the band. They already had a headlining show scheduled at Johnny Brenda’s, but that was, of course, already sold out.

I believe it was at the Battles show at the First Unitarian Church that summer that Anthony, who had also just discovered the National, and I were discussing the band’s upcoming dates. At this point, I was in perhaps a small minority by considering Boxer to be an album that thoroughly trounced Alligator on nearly every level – perhaps this was a symptom of the way I discovered them, or perhaps it just has more to do with my unabashed love for musical subtlety. Either way, now that I was more familiar with and appreciative of their material, I was determined to see them again. They had a show scheduled at the TLA, but it was on the first night of the semester and I knew I would not be able to make it. But they were also, I pointed out to Anthony, playing a free show in New York as part of the River to River Festival on a Friday night. This sounded perfect. We decided to go.

II. The Curse Reveals Itself

By the time the day of the show came, it was Anthony, Bill, Bill’s friend Nikki, and me crammed into my car. I don’t deal with driving/parking in the city, and because of the ridiculous price of train fare, we I decided the most effective way to get there would be to drive to Staten Island and take the free ferry to Battery Park, then walk from there to the Seaport where the show was being held. It was a perfect plan, and I had made the drive to the SI ferry so many times that I knew the route perfectly.

The evening started with Anthony and I getting a slightly late start. It wasn’t that big of a deal, though. A couple of wrong turns getting to Bill’s house resulted in a net loss of about 10 minutes. As we backed out of Bill's driveway and approached the highway, the rain started.

This was almost two years ago, so I don’t remember all the details. What I do recall is some discussion as to whether we should take the Turnpike to exit 10, or take Route 1 up. I believe that I was the only one who was vehemently in favor of Route 1, and since I was driving, that was the route we took. (At this point, it would be beneficial to note that I had not lived in central New Jersey for three years at this point, and had forgotten what Route 1 could look like on a Friday during evening rush hour during the summer on a perfectly clear day, let alone one with apocalyptic weather-related catastrophes.)

Route 1 was a mess, but it was manageable. What wasn’t manageable, however, was the steadily-increasing intensity of the rainfall. By the time we hit South Brunswick, we were driving through sheets of rain. In New Brunswick, near the junction of Route 1 and Route 18 (always a bad traffic area even on the best of days), an entire lake had appeared from nowhere in the middle of the highway. Seriously. A lake. And so, three lanes were bottlenecked into one, and so an extra half hour or so was tacked on to our travel time.

Deep standing water on the roadway hampered our progress even more in Edison. We were inching our way slowly, inexorably toward the ferry. As we turned onto Route 440, we encountered a wall of traffic such as I had never seen on this road. Clearly, I had made an error of judgment.

Bear in mind, during this entire ordeal, my iPod was playing Boxer on an infinite loop.

Anthony seemed to be taking it in stride, with his typical sardonic humor. Bill seemed annoyed, but was trying to be nonchalant about it. Nikki was just pissy (and for those who know the situation, that should come as no surprise whatsoever). For my part, I was trying to remain optimistic and upbeat about it right up to the bitter end. At Bill’s request (I believe the quote may have been, “For the love of GOD, Thom, can you PLEASE change the album???!?!) we started listening to bands other than the National. We listened to Doolittle and The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Yes, we were in traffic long enough to finish two albums.

Clearly, I had made a huge mistake.

We finally fought our way to the ferry, engine running hot, brakes smoking, and us not knowing if my car would still be intact when we returned – I think we all expected it to burst into flames as soon as we boarded the boat. Of course, we had just missed a ferry and had to wait over 30 minutes for the next one. There was a convenience store with Big-AZ™ chicken sandwiches. They were as disgusting as they sound. Anthony and I probably knocked at least five years off of our lives.

The ferry finally came. The John F. Kennedy. Seriously. Insert bad jokes repeated ad nauseum. We half expect to sink into the bay unnoticed under the cover of darkness, but to our surprise, we dock safely at Battery Park. After a few minutes I get my bearings and take us in the direction of the pier, optimistically reminding my jaded and shell-shocked co-travelers that there were two opening acts and that they were probably running on musician time, and that even if we missed some of the show it won’t be a complete loss.

They all humored me, but they seemed decidedly unconvinced.

And so, walking up Wall Street, picture my complete lack of surprise as we see a swarm – no, not a swarm, but a stampede, an avalanche – of hipsters coming at us from the opposite direction, all singing “Mr. November.”

The National Curse had reared its head and stricken for the first time, but not for the last.

This night resulted more or less directly in the dissolution of a friendship. When they say it’s only rock ‘n’ roll, don’t believe them.

On the bright side, this night also resulted in our discovery of Venom Live at City Gardens. To each cloud, my friends. Silver lining. It’s there.

When we returned utterly defeated to Staten Island, my car was intact and unscathed. At least something had worked out for us.

III. The Curse Goes Viral

When it was announced in 2008 that the National would be the opening act on the ridiculously good R.E.M./Modest Mouse tour, Anthony and I made immediate plans to attend. Bill, on the other hand, bowed out due to his unfathomable indifference toward R.E.M. – I could understand it more if he actively disliked them, but just being indifferent? I can’t wrap my head around it. Anyway, the show was at the Mann Center in Fairmount Park, a venue I had been to many times in the past. It was an easy venue to drive to, and I felt confident that everything would go without a hitch. Bill, of course, joked that we would never make it specifically because the National was playing.

Jenn, Tanya, Anthony and I piled into my car – a bit later than we had wanted to leave, but still leaving plenty of time – stopped off for something to eat, and hit the road for Philly. We were making great time until we hit 76. Then, traffic just stopped. And stopped. And refused to move.

Things were stop-and-go for a while, but once I reached the exit for the venue, all hell broke loose. It was a complete clusterfuck of cars. We would sit for half an hour without moving. People were putting their vehicles into park and getting out. I had never seen traffic like this for shows at the Mann, not even for shows that were sold out. The crazy thing is that this show wasn’t even sold out. Somehow, the curse had obviously gone viral and infected all of these people. Their sole motivation now was to prevent Anthony and I from seeing the National.

When we finally rolled into the parking lot, I immediately slammed the car into the first spot I could find and booked across the parking lot toward the venue. We got close enough so I could start to hear some of what was going on on stage.

Some banter. Applause from the crowd.

Insistent drumbeat with aggressive bassline. Chiming yet incisive guitar.

Yes, that’s right - we had arrived just in time to hear “Mr. November” as we ran across the parking lot. Do you sense a pattern?

The facts here: Bill and I had managed to see the National open for Arcade Fire in May 2007. Bill, Anthony and I had fallen victim to the curse in the summer of 2007. Anthony successfully saw the National by himself in September 2007. In summer 2008, Anthony and I once again were victims of the curse.

The obvious answer was that it was the combination of Anthony and me that roused the hex.

And so, earlier this year, when tour dates were announced and we saw that the National were due to play the Electric Factory on May 29^th, we began to make plans….

To be continued…

Introducing the Flaws Mix CD Mixer.

2009-05-31T21:14:00.006-04:00

A post I recently read on another blog got me to thinking about mixtapes. Now, for those who don’t know me, one thing you need to understand: I love mixes. Yeah, I know, who doesn’t, right? But no. You don’t understand. I LOVE mixes.

In 2006 I undertook an ambitious project I dubbed the Mix CD Odyssey of 2006. It was kind of a social experiment in which I tried to use mixes to bring disparate groups of friends together. The idea was as follows: I would make a CD every week for a year. I had recruited a distribution list of 25 or so friends to whom I would give copies of this CD. I would then post the tracklisting of each disc via various social networking outlets as well as on my own (now-defunct) website, and encourage people to discuss, ask each other questions, interact. The social aspect of the experiment was pretty much a failure, as no real discussion between the subscribers ever seemed to spark and comments were limited to praise for my song selection or sequencing. Still, though, the comments were very appreciated and encouraging, and I had a hell of a lot of fun making the CDs until the bottom fell out – which it was always bound to do. (Another thing you may not know about me if you do not know me well: I have a long history of undertaking fantastically ambitious projects with the best of intentions, becoming overwhelmed, and completely abandoning them). 52 mixes in a year is a lot of work, not to mention the cost of making and mailing 25 copies. I made it about 46 weeks before I completely threw in the towel, although after week 30 or so they started to reach fewer and fewer of my subscriber. If any of those people are reading this now, I’m sorry. I intended to do a similar project this year, except doing the mixes monthly instead of weekly. Unfortunately, life got in the way and the project never got off the ground at all. Apologies again for anyone who expected to get in on that project.

This was originally supposed to be a post explaining the various reasons why I have such a love for mixes, but I think that rather than telling you, perhaps I should show you. Action is always more fun than intellectualization, yes? I agree. And so, I formally invite you to take part in the inaugural round of the Flaws Mixtape Mixer. Simply put, let’s trade mixes.

Here’s how we’re going to do it. None of this making a single mix that I send out to everybody; each of you who take part in this will be receiving your own personalized mix, even if I don’t know you. If you’d like to take part, simply write me something. It can be as short as a sentence or as long as a short story. It can be anything. A sentence you just read in a book. An account of the happiest, or unhappiest, day of your life. A description of your first kiss. A recounting of your most vivid nightmare. Your biggest fear. A secret. A story you wrote. A story somebody else wrote. Or send me a photograph. Or anything else. I will use whatever you send me as a jumping-off point; it will be the inspiration for your mix. I will send you some inspiration to use for my mix. Maybe at some point we can branch this out more, and get complete strangers to make personalized mixes for each other. It’s always about the communication. Making that connection across time and distance and odds.

Also, I'm flexible. While I tend to work with CD-R just because of convenience, I can also do cassette if you want to do an old-school thing. Just let me know in your e-mail.

I know I’ve been flaky with these mix things lately, but seriously, let’s make this happen.

Kindly e-mail me at its.flaws at gmail.com to take part in this.

This post was composed to the tune of The National by The National.

Paint the Black Hole Blacker: St. Vincent, 2009.05.21

2009-05-30T22:39:00.005-04:00

St. Vincent/Pattern Is Movement

First Unitarian Church

Philadelphia, PA

2009.05.21

I was first exposed to the music of Annie Clark in early 2007, months before her debut album as St. Vincent, Marry Me, suddenly and unexpectedly stole countless indie rock hearts (mine included). She was opening for John Vanderslice on a tour preparing for the release of his Emerald City album. Going into the show, all I knew about her was that she had previously played with both Sufjan Stevens and the Polyphonic Spree, and that she was apparently some kind of guitar prodigy. When she took the stage, I was intrigued by her nimble fretwork, her use of effects pedals to create layers of texture from a single electric guitar, her steady rhythm-keeping by way of a pedal-operated kick drum sample, and her idiosyncratic songwriting style. Of course, although I would like to downplay this, the fact that she was unbelievably gorgeous did not hurt matters. By the end of her set, when she played a self-assured version of Jackson Browne’s oft-covered “These Days,” I had fallen completely in love. I immediately purchased her tour EP (happily featuring the aforementioned Jackson Browne cover) and decided to make it a point to see her every time she came to town.

I missed her every time she came to town.

In April 2008, I got my first taste of what her live show sounded like when augmented with a full band when she played the PLUG awards in NYC, playing a brief two-song set comprising “Now, Now” and “Your Lips are Red.” Where before her performance had been marked with precision, complexity, and a graceful patience, there was now an air of danger, recklessness, and ferocity. I was very excited to see a full set by St. Vincent the band.

Once again, I missed them every time they came to town.

Chris from Pattern is Movement

To cut long story short (too late), the release of Actor, the second St. Vincent album, quickly became one of my favorite albums of the year so far, and when the band’s tour stopped at the First Unitarian basement in Philadelphia, I made damn sure I was there. Local heroes Pattern Is Movement opened; I had seen them once before, ironically, opening for North Carolina band The Physics of Meaning, which is the main gig of Daniel Hart, who also plays violin and guitar in St. Vincent. Pattern Is Movement is a 2-piece band – drums and keyboards – marked by gentle vocals that reach into the upper register of the vocalist’s range and odd time signatures with unpredictable and seemingly random changes. They kind of sound like a less aggro Dismemberment Plan, perhaps. Daniel Hart came out and played violin with them for a song or two – though, oddly, I didn’t remember them being a two-piece last time I saw them. My impression of them, however, was exactly the same as it had been the last time I saw them: although it was pretty music and definitely was a refreshing change from your standard “indie rock” band, I found that they had sort of worn out their welcome with me after about 20-25 minutes. Their set lasted for nearly 50 minutes this particular night, which was just far too long to hold my interest. The highlight was a D’Angelo cover.

I was excited to see the array of instruments being set up for St. Vincent’s set – clarinet! Saxophone! Flute! Fender Jaguar! (Seriously, does EVERY band have a Jaguar these days?) Plus the typical drums, bass, and keyboards, as well as Annie’s two guitars and trademark double microphone stand. From the opening salvo of “The Strangers” and “Save Me From What I Want” – also the first two songs on Actor – the band made it clear that although they were perfectly capable of recreating the textures and layers of the studio recording on stage, they were not interested in stopping there. The mannered, structured, orchestrated noise that ever so politely bruises the lush studio arrangement on records becomes an entirely different beast on the concert stage – there is a disquieting, threatening quality to the guitar outbursts here, a palpable physical violence in both Ms. Clark’s guitar playing and her occasional vocal outbursts (such as during the performance of single “Actor Out of Work,” which on record relies on a building tension that never resolves itself into an explosion – in performance at the Church, Clark suddenly shrieked “I think I’M FUCKING MAD!” so loudly, it ended up being the only moment of the main set that caused my recording to clip, and genuinely startled me at the time).

It was a long show – at 74 minutes, it was definitely much longer than I would have expected from an artist with two albums to her name, neither one particularly long – but it was well paced and never once felt boring or like it was dragging. The setlist was, as one would expect, heavy on the excellent Actor material, but almost to a fault – although Annie promised to mix in Marry Me material and make it a “greatest hits show,” the band only played three songs from the debut, and had already played two of those by the time she made that promise. And of course, the nostalgia lover in me would have loved to have heard her perform “These Days” either in addition to or even instead of her delicate solo reading of “Oh My God.” But these are all minor criticisms. Annie Clark has assembled a fantastic group of musicians to flesh out her arrangements, and they seem to share a hive mind of sorts. Impossibly tight and precise, the musicianship combined with Ms. Clark’s vibrant personality, witty humor, and uniquely subtle yet intense stage presence make for a compelling and entertaining live show that everyone should experience given the chance. I will definitely be in the crowd the next time Ms. Clark and crew pass through.

Setlist:

The Strangers
Save Me From What I Want
Now, Now
Actor Out of Work
Marry Me
Oh My God
The Bed
Laughing With a Mouth of Blood
Black Rainbow
Marrow
Just the Same But Brand New
----------------------------------------
The Party
Your Lips Are Red

More photos can be found at my Flickr account.

Statement of purpose.

2009-04-18T21:03:00.005-04:00

Hello, interpeople. I'm Thom. I'm guessing, for now anyway, that if you are here, you already know me. If not, I have no idea how you got here, but I hope you'll stay. I'm not going to tell you a lot about myself, but because I tend to have a strong and easily-identifiable voice in my writing, you will likely get to know me as I write (and as you read, naturally). I also write at We Recommend Things to You along with my better half, but this blog is more of a solo vehicle for my writing.

This is not going to be just another music blog. Yes, the focus of this blog will most definitely be on music. I will be reviewing new releases and concerts. I will try to offer some news, perhaps. I will write reconsiderations and appreciations of older releases that I feel are overlooked or that I simply feel is ripe for another look. I will likely also write longer think pieces from time to time on various issues affecting either the music industry or listenership. I hope to be able to offer some unique perspectives on things and to strike up some thoughtful discussion.

However, this will not be the extent of my writing. Because music is only one part of my worldview, I plan on also writing about art, film, literature, current events, cultural commentary, and perhaps even politics. My eventual goal is to present my worldview and hopefully to get some feedback on how it differs from or resembles yours. I want to foster some real communication and interaction here. I want to sow how everything interacts with everything else, how it is all just so many pieces in a puzzle that makes up the world. Although the pieces have their flaws, they still somehow make a whole.

While this is perhaps a little lofty and ambitious for something which looks on the surface like just another music blog, I hope you will call me on my bluff here and join me on this journey. It won't be half as much fun without you.

This post was composed to the tune of the Celebración de la Ciudad Natal live EP by My Morning Jacket.

Its Flaws Were What Made Us Have Fun

Flaws Recordings: the Mountain Goats, 2011-06-26, Bloomington, IN

New band crush: Dreamers of the Ghetto

A Very Flawed Christmas 2010: A Flaws Holiday Mix

After the Glow: Pavement, 2010.09.17

I can't define it, but I know it when I see hear it.

Lifting the weight.

Clarification, "good guys," and some free music.

See also: devouring one's own young, biting the hand that feeds, and other clichés.

You let loss be your guide: Broken Bells, 2010.03.10

I will float until I learn how to swim.

You've gotta look it in the eyes and say that I don't believe.

A Flaws recording: the Mountain Goats, 2009-11-28

A Flaws recording: the Mountain Goats, 2009-11-27

The king's new clothes.

Six inches forward and five inches back.

Don't let the preachers and teachers and hipsters fool you; there ain't no rips in the fabric.

Revisionism: This list goes to 11.

I'm coming home, I'm coming home.

Obligatory Mid-year Round-up.

With Love and Trust and Friends and Hammers: A Flaws mix

General update/to-do list.

We're gonna build read something this summer.

This is how I am repaid: The Decemberists/Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3, 2009.06.06

Like a god, or a good luck charm, or a vice: PJ Harvey & John Parish, 2009.06.07

A supposedly fun thing I'll probably bail on.

Backlog/upcoming show schedule/autism fundraising.

Keeping up with the motions: Grizzly Bear, 2009.06.02.

What Makes You Think I'm Enjoying Being Led to the Flood?: The National, 2009.05.29

The National Curse: A History in Three Parts, or Prelude to a Concert Review

Introducing the Flaws Mix CD Mixer.

Paint the Black Hole Blacker: St. Vincent, 2009.05.21

Statement of purpose.