Sometimes a song sneaks up on you and surprises you with the way it insinuates entire cinescapes in your mind. That picture above belongs with another film, but it is a vague representation of the colors, the era, the intrigue that this song conjures up for me.
I cannot figure why this song is called Circus of Horror, as there is no sense of carnival and nothing scary about it. Clowns and elephants could be the farthest thing from my mind when this tune cues up. Instead, this seems a perfect soundtrack to a forgotten ’60s Italian spy movie — a little campy but sleek, ready for some fast driving down narrow cobbled streets. Or perhaps you can hear a change of locales with a dash of cool saunter down the Miami waterline, scoping out the sinister antagonist.
British duo Quiet Village claim influences that range from “Italian film soundtracks, BBC library music, disco edits, acid rock, vintage soul and easy listening.” On this song I find them extremely reminiscent of Irishman David Holmes’ fantastic soundtracks (the Oceans 11 series, or my favorite Out of Sight), with their sense of ineffable charm and air of coolness, but also the Latin and calypso undertones that emit an undercurrent of heat.
This bolt-from-the-blue find that just made my evening; their full-length album Silent Movie is out May 13th on K7,
So the story goes that a pair of Harvard boys get bored and decide to record an album in their dorm basement. A lot of things happened in my various dorm basements but nothing that sounded this good; I think it was too dark with those half-lit humming fluorescent lights, the broken foosball tables, and slightly dodgy-looking couches that you knew had some sketch tales to tell.
So what did Chester French conjure up there instead? Think robust strings over crisp and sexy beats, some chiming mid ’60s guitar . . . and they get all Zombies here at the beginning of this track. What’s your name / who’s your daddy?
Go traipse on over to their MySpace now and listen to “People” . . . then try and tell me that doesn’t make your day significantly better. So pleasing that I’ve already used it on a mix. Chester French’s debut album Love the Future is forthcoming in 2008 on Pharrell Williams’ Star Trak label.
Chester French is performing at Red Rocks on Sunday, September 14th at the Monolith Festival.
It’s a beautifully sunny 75 degree day here; perfect for fun and frolicking, a cruel masking of the fact that it is actually Tax Day for Americans. As I lick the envelope to the $255 check that I owe to the State of Colorado (which I nearly forgot about), I wince.
This tune makes it sting a little bit less. Not much.
I’m back from my aforementioned 20-hour dash through Wyoming, Nebraska, and back into Colorado. It was a spur of the moment thing, leaving me at the ranch/hostel place on the remote Wyoming border with nary a toothbrush at 10pm on a Sunday night. It was exhilarating to get out and see a part of the country I’ve never seen, simply because I wanted to see where the freeway took me on a full tank of gas. While on the jaunt, I listened mostly to my two Fuel For The Open Road mixes, and the twangy overtones fit perfectly on the county highways and prairies.
Here’s what else I might have listened to if I hadn’t left my iPod on the charger at home.
Future Rock The Muslims I’d seen a flurry of short posts about The Muslims in the blog world a few weeks ago, but they truly won me over when I read this great quote from the band that Bruce cited over on Some Velvet Blog: “We don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. And that’s why it sounds like The Velvet Underground. Because it has chords and my guitar is trebly. We like the E chord. It’s simple. None of us listen to math-rock. We tried it, but it didn’t work out that well. We’re not bad, we’re just not really good.” And AMEN, ain’t that humbling. This song is young and dirty and fast — what more could you want? The Muslims play Denver’s Larimer Lounge on May 2, with lots of other shows coming up as well.
Silver Lining Rilo Kiley This song is in no way new music, but it has risen to the tip-top of my playlists in recent weeks. I somehow glossed unfairly over Rilo Kiley‘s 2007 release Under The Blacklight after reading a few lukewarm reviews, and never realized the genius of this track until recently. Lame! I know. Well, it finally hit me, all handclaps and disco beats, and I was instantly won over by the stark confessionals from Jenny Lewis and sentiments I can appreciate. If perchance you also missed it like I did, for the love of Pete, take a listen and try not to love it, all the way down to those mellifluous closing gospel chorus notes. My song of the month (a perfect video too).
Sun Giant Fleet Foxes As I crested hill after hill of winter-bleached prairie grassland early this morning as the rising sun splintered across it, I listened to a bit of My Morning Jacket. One of the things I enjoy the most about their music is the way it feels golden and expansive, all sundrenched reverb and eerie harmonies. It’s easy to see why that same vibe would draw me effortlessly into this opening album track from Seattle’s Fleet Foxes. As you delve into the rest of their songs you do hear a bit more of the classic rock influences, but gorgeous vocal tracks like this sound like a perfectly-crafted hymn (“Our Prayer” by the Beach Boys, anyone?). Their Sun Giant EPis out now on Sub Pop/Bella.
Tick of Time The Kooks I’m liking where the Kooks are going on their second album Konk, out tomorrow on Astralwerks. They’ve tuned down a bit of the herky-jerky swagger of their first album an lapsed a bit more into the acoustic harmony vibe, and they sound terrific. Konk was recorded at Ray Davies’ studio of the same name, and was produced by Tony Hoffer who has worked with The Thrills, Beck and Supergrass. This is the last track on the album and they sound like they’re having fun.
Glad It’s Over Wilco I’m confused about this “musical companion album” to the excellent TV series Heroes, which is a show that messed with my brain. When watched in large doses, Heroes gave me the kind of vivid dreams I haven’t had since Alias when I dreamt that Rambaldi was trying to send me encrypted messages through run-of-the-mill neighborhood night noises. In any case, I don’t remember hearing Wilco on Heroes. Nor Bob Dylan, MMJ, or even Nada Surf. But look! Here’s a brand new Wilco track from that collection, catchy as all get out. The selections on this soundtrack are “inspired by the characters” in the show, and are pretty bulletproof in terms of the quality tunes & artists here.
. . . time to emancipate. I was listening to the song Rearviewmirror while driving and ended up in Wyoming, where I am now. True story. I’ve not forsaken the Monday Music Roundup by any means; I’ll get that goodness posted as soon as possible.
Thanks to everyone who submitted a story about Africa, U2 –or even Bonalmost– for the contest to win the In The Name of Love CD of U2 covers by African musicians.
Boyhowdy’s story was an early favorite (make your wife read that, boyhowdy!) and so many of you shared great tales of the ways U2 has been present at different memorable moments in your life. However the winner is Russell, because of the way I loved this paragraph he wrote about seeing U2 in 1980:
“There was real glory in an Edge solo – a dazzling scattering of light and energy that detonated dreams. Exhilaration. Running from that concert in the rain to catch a late night train remains vivid and gleaming: music mattered, life mattered. Everything was potentially magical.”
Russell, thanks, and let me know where to send the winnings. Enjoy.
NEW CONTEST: Tristan Prettyman is a musician from the San Diego area with a lovely sunrise homespun voice, and an approachable acoustic sound that I dig.
She’s designed a cool music-oriented tank top for the ladies, picturing the chord breakdown of her song “Hello” (the title track of her album, out this week). Stream the tune on her MySpace, and please leave me a comment if you’d like to win the shirt (via Elwood Clothing). The folks running the contest would like entrants to leave an email address to opt-in for Tristan Prettyman news in the future, but it’s up to you.
LISTEN: Here’s a cover Tristan did of French-Israeli artist Yael Naim‘s “New Soul” – that catchy ditty from the MacBook Air ad.
It’s a well-researched, well-told, controversial look into the Mormon splinter groups that practice polygamy in remote areas of the American West, and their roots throughout history of that religion. I was drawn into this book and devoured it over one short weekend about two years ago; but hey even after reading it . . . why any man would want to deal with more than one wife still remains beyond me. Ha. In any case, it’s a fascinating exploration into a topic we may have never thought would intrigue us, as one can always expect from Krakauer.
Oh, Feist, you do it again. I simply adore the first listen of this cover with my favorite Canadian songstress (clearly a close winner over Celine) and The Constantines. They take the Bee Gees & Dolly Parton/Kenny Rogers guilty-pleasure song that I admittedly love to sing along with, and reconstruct it as something that is breathy, ethereal, and almost sad.
Thanks to the good people at the Ten Club, I was in Row C and felt intimately engaged in Berkeley’s Zellerbach Hall (capacity 2089) with its pristine, warm acoustics. Given the amount of banter back from the crowd, maybe the acoustics were too good. Maybe we can work out the one-way directional acoustics somehow. More on that later.
Accompanied with an arsenal of guitars, ukuleles, a banjo, and an amplified footboard, Vedder’s set was a far-reaching collection of solo tunes from the Into The Wild soundtrack, unreleased songs and covers, with only a handful of standard Pearl Jam tunes — and many of those deep cuts from the back catalog. It was really a delight for this fan to see material I had never heard live, and Vedder’s voice sounded rich and golden and pure.
There was little variation from the setlists of previous nights, so anyone who had read a review in the paper or trolled the boards online knew what was coming next. I would have liked to see a little bit more changeup from night to night, as there are so many great songs he could have explored, but I am not complaining.
The soaring “I Am Mine” is a favorite song, and it was gorgeous to hear early on in the night, as was the rare “Dead Man” from the Penn film soundtrack (Sean Penn was there both nights, I hear). Dead Man was the very first song I ever saw Vedder perform, in a solo pre-set at the San Jose show in 1995, so it was a somber treat to see it again. The rarely heard “I’m Open” from 1996′s No Code was played as a modified version that left out the spoken word bit about a man lying in bed in a room with no door (good call there, Ed).
“Man of the Hour” did a phosphorescent slow-burn with its malleable melody and honey-rich vocals, while “Porch” was not something I was expecting, and completely rocked my face off. Ed’s furiously strumming arm was a rapid-fire blur of heart and urgency, and I found myself (quietly!) singing along to every word and meaning it. That’s my favorite song off Ten on most days, one of the few songs off that album that I could hear a good number more times live. It was nice to hear a rocker in with the acoustic stuff. And Lukin!! Acoustic performances of Lukin are something I never fail to get a kick out of.
The conversational tone of the evening led to some interesting storytelling on Ed’s part between songs, filling in details that I hadn’t known before. During the explanation of the West Memphis Three situation (tickets were auctioned off for each show to support their legal defense fund), Ed led into the extremely rare song “Satellite” that I had never even heard before Monday night, saying it was written for the wife of one of the West Memphis Three, Damien Echols. She was in attendance Monday night, and Ed performed the love song he wrote just for her and Damien.
Satellite – Eddie Vedder (an especially nice live premiere from 2002)
Despite Ed’s requests for mitigation of the constant barrage of comments from the small crowd, the living room feel proved too enticing for many who wanted a chance to converse with their idol in that quiet setting. Vedder first quoted Tom Waits in a gruff imitation, saying Waits had once revealed to him that “silence is like a blank piece of paper,” then later telling the yellers a bit more blatantly to “shut the fuck up,” to little avail. From song requests to comments about everything from presidential candidates (wait, he’s supporting Obama?! Shocker) to general supportive “We love you” sentiments, I kept really wishing people would please just sit quietly and listen to the man I came to hear. I’m all for enthusiasm but it got a bit much after a thousand times.
One guy did yell after “Guaranteed” that Ed should’ve won an Academy Award, to which Ed humorously mused that he had been watching VH1 ‘I Love the 80s’ special recently, and had seen that the Ghostbusters theme won an Oscar in 1985. “That song I just played you is not as good as Ghostbusters,” he said with a smile, “but I’m going to keep trying.” Ed also threw in some pretty horrifying song lyrics from a Bay Area punk band called the Yeastie Girls, during a conversation about Fugazi. The words yeast and girls should really never ever be used in a sentence together, much less a band name. Please and thank you.
After an amazing run of well-selected cover songs, Ed closed his first encore with the vocal loopings of the song “Arc” from 2002′s Riot Act. The piece incorporates layers of wordless vocalizations, and was written for the 9 Pearl Jam fans killed in the crowd during the tragic happenings of the 2000 Roskilde festival. In 2003, Pearl Jam played this song at 9 shows, one show for each of the victims. It is rarely-played, a raw and haunting piece that echoed on after the blue velvet curtain closed and Ed left the stage.
After lengthy applause, Ed brought back out opener Liam Finn and accompaniment from Eliza-Jane Barnes, along with Marin County songwriter Jerry Hannan (who had joined him earlier to help perform his song “Society”) for a rousing version of “Hard Sun.” The security guards were being prison-guard-tough for the whole set on photos or video, patrolling the aisles every three minutes, giving sharp looks and pointed finger threats to fans who dared desire to capture the moment for posterity or for their music blog. But during Hard Sun, the crowd overflowed down to fill the aisles and I was able to capture a bit of that joyous closer for you, complete with Eddie-the-Pearl-Jam-frontman air jump on the final guitar chord:
EDDIE VEDDER SOLO SETLIST BERKELEY 4/7/08 Walking The Cow (Daniel Johnston) Around The Bend I Am Mine Dead Man I’m Open Man of the Hour Setting Forth Guaranteed No Ceiling Far Behind Rise Millworker (James Taylor) Goodbye Satellite Drifting You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away (Lennon, McCartney) Here’s To The State (Phil Ochs) Trouble (Cat Stevens) If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out (Cat Stevens) Parting Ways Forever Young (Bob Dylan) Porch Society, with Jerry Hannan Growin Up (Bruce Springsteen) Lukin No More Arc Hard Sun, with Liam Finn, Eliza-Jane Barnes and Jerry Hannan (Gordon Peterson)
(AUDIO FILES REMOVED BY REQUEST OF THE TEN CLUB)
Other notes: **I didn’t arrive early enough to snag a limited edition poster, but there were some very cool playbills being given out at the door with details on the show, artwork, and all the relevant causes and musicians. But PJ fans got greedy and took more than one apiece. After some Robin-Hood-like thievery from those with plenty, I went home a happy girl with my own ill-gotten souvenir. I didn’t do the swiping but I can’t say I turned down the gains.
**24-year old New Zealander opener Liam Finn was energetic (almost spastic, in a wonderfully unbridled and enthusiastic way) as he worked through material from his solo debut album I’ll Be Lightning. His music has strong melodic sensibilities (not unlike his dad Neil Finn) but he also really had an edge on the rhythms, with the proclivity to lapse into some rock and roll shrieks. He was out signing things after his set, and I told him I enjoyed watching him on the drums. A reader compared him to Animal from the Muppets, all flailing limbs and furry faced. I would see him again.
**One of my faithful readers is an Iraq veteran named Josh who recently wrote me an immensely moving and humbling email to tell me how much my words and music had meant to him while he was in the desert, flying Blackhawk medic missions and trying to save kids’ lives. Josh and his wife flew out from where he is currently stationed in Hawaii specifically for the Berkeley shows, as an anniversary gift to each other, and a vacation before he undergoes surgery for a broken back sustained in Iraq. Josh was in row 2 with his back brace, and one of the most moving moments of the night for me was when he and his wife stood silently together for the entire performance of “No More.” I felt overwhelmed.
**Finally . . . near midnight on Tuesday night, I was on the train heading back from an awesome Giants game (man I’ve missed thatballpark) and I get a frantic breathless call from my friend Sam, telling me that Pearl Jam guitarist Mike McCready had just showed up at night two. Apparently during the encore, Vedder started musing, “I’ve got Jeff Ament’s rug, Stone Gossard’s guitar, Matt’s drum… but I didn’t have anything from Mike McCready . . . so I Fedex’d him out.” Then they rolled Mike out on a cart, and the two went on to play All Along The Watchtower and Yellow Ledbetter together. Ha! Sean Penn also joined in on the jubilee, a bit oddly (does he sing?).
More than anything, I’d say these shows are great because of the sense of fun and experimentation, a chance to explore some musical ground that we haven’t seen. I’m heartened and glad to see Ed in such a good place.
I’ve been talking about trying this idea for a long time, finding a way to see Bruce Springsteen on the Magic tour that everyone –from indie hipsters to old rock codgers alike, and all shades in between– kept raving to me about. Because he didn’t put Colorado into this tour, I was left searching airfares for far-flung cities (Buffalo, anyone?). And then Vedder announced his Berkeley show in the same weekend and suddenly the chips fell into place. I was headed to San Jose to see Bruce Springsteen for the first time in my hometown.
This was my first Springsteen concert experience, and I am out of practice at spending over a hundred dollars to see these stadium shows. With what I could afford, I found myself in the nosebleed seats, far from the tightly packed action and the wristband lotteries of the floor. I hear this is not the best way to see my first Springsteen show, but I don’t work for Google, Oracle, or Yahoo so what can ya do. Bruce took the stage promptly at 8:15 to deafening screams, waving signs, and the opening notes of “Out In The Street.”
Bruce’s voice was in strong and vibrant form, and the band was tight — some would say orchestral — all dressed in matching black. “Fire” saw its tour debut as voted on by the listeners of KFOG, and “Trapped,” “Incident on 57th Street” and “Devil’s Arcade” (one of my favorite songs on Magic) were all highlights for me. I was naive enough to try and bring in a camera, which got taken at the door, so all I managed was this cell phone snap during “Born to Run” with the house lights up and thousands of voices singing along. That was a pretty cool moment.
Bruce played many requests taken from signs from the audience – the traditional posterboard variety or this guy‘s head request. I wonder if he used a Sharpie? Bruce pulled him on stage and then launched into “Glory Days” for him, much to the delight of the crowd. It’s odd what a heartbreakingly stark and sad song that really is, but everyone was pogoing like it was the party anthem of the year (and I guess the music does sound like it). But the lyrics still get me.
On the plane ride back home to Colorado, I was reading a book review in the May 2008 Paste magazine for Like A Rolling Stone by Steven Kurutz. It’s an examination of a guy named Glen Carroll who plays the role of Mick Jagger in a small Stones tribute band called Sticky Fingers. A paragraph of the review probed at some of the strain and pull that I felt after the Springsteen show when it mused the following:
“Kurutz has a revelation at a ‘real’ Stones concert at Fenway Park. He buys a $163 ticket “in the nosebleeds” and witnesses the world’s greatest rock ‘n’ roll band on the biggest, most expensive stage set ever built … but can only see it on a JumboTron screen. The Stones are isolated from fans and press. Kurutz is watching a franchise, not a rock show. Success for Glen Carroll, on the other hand, means playing with reckless abandon to a basement full of drunken, sweaty kids. Which is the ‘real’ rock ‘n’ roll?“
Seeing Bruce felt intensely rich for me, to actually experience for myself this amazing artist with lyrics that incise deeper than almost any other, and songs that lay out an epic alternate world for me where the roads are always open and the engine is always running. But so much of me wanted to see him in a small venue, hot and sweaty and immediate, without all the schtick and $95 seats and corporate rock feel.
Sure, he can do the huge huge stage spectacle so why not, and sure he connects better with a gigantic audience than many other artists of his scale. But still – I was in Section 210, and most everyone sat for the whole show. As my companion predicted, folks stood for Born To Run and there was some fist pumping, making sure not to spill their $10 beers. Maybe I am just too idealistic and starry-eyed about my live music, but I felt distant and cold from an artist that is relatable and warm and I wish it could have been different. Ah well. I shouldn’t be allowed to go to these things, and feel like apologizing for unrealistic expectations. I guess subconsciously I wanted Main Point, but in a plausible world, what I got was very good.
BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN SAN JOSE 4/5/08 Out in the Street Radio Nowhere Lonesome Day Gypsy Biker Something in the Night Magic Trapped Reason to Believe Prove It All Night She’s the One Livin’ in the Future The Promised Land Fire Incident on 57th Street Devil’s Arcade The Rising Last to Die Long Walk Home Badlands Detroit Medley Born to Run Glory Days Bobby Jean American Land
Name: Heather Browne Location: Colorado, originally by way of California Giving context to the torrent since 2005.
"I love the relationship that anyone has with music: because there's something in us that is beyond the reach of words, something that eludes and defies our best attempts to spit it out. It's the best part of us, probably, the richest and strangest part..."
—Nick Hornby, Songbook
"Music has always been a matter of energy to me, a question of Fuel. Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but what they really mean is Fuel." —Hunter S. Thompson
Mp3s are for sampling purposes, kinda like when they give you the cheese cube at Costco, knowing that you'll often go home with having bought the whole 7 lb. spiced Brie log. They are left up for a limited time. If you LIKE the music, go and support these artists, buy their schwag, go to their concerts, purchase their CDs/records and tell all your friends. Rock on.
Sometimes a song sneaks up on you and surprises you with the way it insinuates entire cinescapes in your mind. That picture above belongs with another film, but it is a vague representation of the colors, the era, the intrigue that this song conjures up for me.
British duo Quiet Village claim influences that range from “Italian film soundtracks, BBC library music, disco edits, acid rock, vintage soul and easy listening.” On this song I find them extremely reminiscent of Irishman David Holmes’ fantastic soundtracks (the Oceans 11 series, or my favorite Out of Sight), with their sense of ineffable charm and air of coolness, but also the Latin and calypso undertones that emit an undercurrent of heat.
Name: Heather Browne
