In yesterday’s post I mentionedSaddle Creek as being the home of danse-macabre band The Faint, and as I typed that sentence, I wondered what was going on with their punk new-wave selves.
Turns out that the news today is that they’ve actually left Saddle Creek to form their own label called blank.wav, and that they’ll have a new record coming out August 5th called Fasciinatiion (with that many “i”s). If you wonder to yourself why this is anticipated news ’round these parts, please check a few of my favorite tunes that The Faint have had their hands into these past few years:
It’s also been said that The Faint puts on one of the best live shows humanly possible, so I am uber-looking forward to seeing them this summer:
THE FAINT TOUR DATES July 27 Des Moines, IA – Peoples Court July 28 Sioux Falls, SD – Ramkota Annex July 29 Denver, CO – Ogden Theatre July 30 Salt Lake City, UT – In the Venue July 31 Boise, ID – Big Easy Boise Aug 01 Vancouver, British Columbia – Commodore Aug 02 Seattle, WA – Showbox at the Market Aug 03 Portland, OR – Crystal Ballroom Aug 04 San Francisco, CA – The Fillmore Aug 05 San Francisco, CA – Grand Ballroom Aug 07 Los Angeles, CA – Henry Fonda Theatre Aug 08 Los Angeles, CA – Henry Fonda Theatre Aug 09 San Diego, CA – Soma Aug 11 Austin, TX – La Zona Rosa Aug 12 Dallas, TX – Palladium Aug 14 Atlanta, GA – Variety Playhouse Aug 15 Carrboro, NC – Cats Cradle Aug 16 Washington, DC – 9:30 Club Aug 17 Philadelphia, PA – Trocadero Aug 18 New York, NY – Terminal 5 Aug 20 Worcester, MA – Palladium Aug 21 Toronto, Ontario – Opera House Aug 22 Chicago, IL – Vic Theatre Aug 23 Omaha, NE – Sokol Auditorium
For Mother’s Day I got this handmade wooden box from my little four year old. It held various treasures, including a coupon, some chocolate covered espresso beans (good choice), and an ant. The ant apparently escaped. It seemed like a good idea to him at the time to include it in the gift. I feel very lucky. I hope you all tried to take care of your mamas as well yesterday.
When not busy being a kickass mom this week, I listened to this stuff (actually, sometimes simultaneously):
Tessellate (remix by Tom Campesinos) Tokyo Police Club The folks at Saddle Creek (home of Bright Eyes / The Faint / Cursive) sent this over on Friday just in time for Mother’s Day. The first line here talks about “all the boys who call their mothers on that day,” and sonically the remix is an electrifying combination that admittedly your mother may not like, with what sounds like crashing garbage can lids over cheerily chiming xylophones. It works for me. The original version of the song is featured on the Tokyo Police Club‘s debut full-length Elephant Shell, which was released last month after two previous critically-acclaimed EPs. The remix can be found on the new 7 inch or the limited edition of Elephant Shell.
Gratification To Concrete Robert Pollard As we all know, Robert Pollard can’t stop, won’t stop. After releasing no fewer than four solo albums on Merge in the last two years, former Guided By Voices frontman has amicably left that fold to form his own GBV record label. Robert Pollard Is Off To Business will be released on June 3, and this song about a lady who somehow gratifies concrete will be the first tune to hit the internetwaves. In an odd Stipe-ian dichotomy, this will work best if you don’t try to understand Pollard’s lyrics but just enjoy the crunchy riffs at play on this monster jam of a summer pop song.
Cheap Champagne Sloan This new song from Canada’s powerpop/rock foursome Sloan starts with a sunny vocal breakdown that’s all retro-goodness, sounding like just four guys standing around on a street corner snapping in time. Each track that I’ve heard so far from their upcoming release Parallel Play (June 10, Yep Roc) wins me over in a unique way, and there lies some of the underrated genius of Sloan. They can fluidly slide between many different styles (most recently demonstrated on the 30-song tour de force of 2006′s Never Hear The End Of It), and it all works.
Sirens In The Deep Sea Longwave The cascade of swirling, sparkling guitars in this song from Brooklyn’s Longwave sound like the moment you roll your car to a slow stop on a gravelly roadside overlooking the lights of the valley. This single was produced by Peter Katis (The National, Interpol) and boasts some gorgeous, epic-sounding production. After tour dates opening for The Strokes on their North American and European tours, Longwave is playing some shows with the re-formed Swervedriver in the coming months.
I’m Now Mudhoney Recorded in just three and a half days, this 8th full-length album from Seattle’s Mudhoney possesses a raw and immediate punch. Although folks like Nirvana propelled to larger successes from the Sub Pop label in the late 80s/early 90s, Mudhoney laid seminal groundwork with the indie label through releases like Superfuzz Bigmuff. They were also featured on one of the first 7″s in the Sub Pop Singles Club with “Touch Me I’m Sick” (split with Sonic Youth). Hard to believe, but Mudhoney has been at it for twenty years (!!) and the sounds of this new song would suggest that they’ve lost little of their spitfire. The Lucky Ones is due May 20 on Sub Pop.
When I saw Bob Schneiderlast November in Denver there was one simple, naked song that felt like a heavy weight settling in on my chest as he performed it. Maybe it was just something in the air that night but I remember that it knocked me back on my heels; it’s rumored that hot tears may have inexplicably pricked into my eyes about two thirds of the way through this, but no one has any proof of seeing that happen so it’s hard to say, really.
I finally found an mp3 of that song a few months ago after much searching. There’s a lyric in it about candyteeth, and so that line popped into my head last night while driving home from having my face melted (again) by Wilco, listening to my Summerteeth CD. This is how my brain works.
Anyways. Last night I turned off Tweedy and Co. and sang this quietly to myself instead. It’s got signature Schneider phrasing, but reaches deep to be a song of longing, defeat, and maybe a glimmer of hope for some future contentment.
I wish I was a baby bear sleeping in the brown winter grass in April, while the sun was going down and I wish my shoes were empty and I was still in bed with you there beside me with your dreams inside your head
Oh I wish the world would do what I want it to and I wish the wind would blow me, blow me back to you
I wish your mom was ugly and your dad was ugly too cuz then they couldn’t of had a girl to be as beautiful as you and I wish I was a tightrope walker with legs made out of gold I’d hold you in my golden legs and never let you go
Oh I wish the world would do what I want it to and I wish the wind would blow me, blow me back to you
Well I wish I could see Jesus shining in the sky so that he could finally let me know that everything would be just fine I wish I knew that God’s love was all I’d ever need I’d cut my candyteeth for fun and let the good times bleed
Oh I wish the world would do what I want it to oh I wish the world would do what I want it to and I wish the world would blow me, blow me back to you
Hot Chip appeared on BBC’s Live Lounge today to perform a semi-acoustic version of their single “One Pure Thought,” and also cover Trinidadian/East London rapper Wiley’s “Wearing My Rolex.” After seeing these guys nearly cause a riot at Coachella, they can get under my skin and make my hips start movin’ even more easily.
We’ll leave after midnight on a warm night with no moon. I know a place above the city where we can lay back on a wool blanket and feel the rocks under our bones. We’ll watch as the stars ignite their first tentative glimmers of the night, fighting initially through the atmospheric haze. It’s never easy when you first start to find your light. My iPod is charged; maybe bring that base that plays music with no cords because we’ll be far from any outlets and I have something I want to hear. I know life’s been hard on you lately, hard on me. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be easy. The grey of life makes tonight’s sky seem all the more brilliant. A galaxy, a comet, a supernova. We’ll listen to (and watch for) those explosions in the sky. The stars will sing – maybe tonight our music doesn’t need the words.
Explosions In The Sky is a band from from Austin, Texas that tells amazing stories through songs which happen to lack words. Try it and see for yourself, the dizzying landscapes they can take you through.
This show was the second of three sold-out nights at the classy Great American Music Hall in San Francisco just back in March.
Josh Rouse! Covering Mother Love Bone! Thanks to Kelly who sent this to me — it’s a song from the latest volume in Rouse’s Bedroom Classics series. I am big fan of volumes 1 and 2, and it’s quite a mindtrip to hear Nebraska singer Josh Rouse take on the formidable late ’80s/early ’90s pre-grunge rock sounds of Mother Love Bone.
“Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns” is a dark and melancholy river of a song from the Singles soundtrack, and it is interesting here how Rouse only chooses to cover the intro portion, never lapsing into that chorus of “this is my kinda love, it’s the kind that moves on, it’s the kind that leaves me alone….” Having listened to the original so many times, it is a bit disconcerting where this version stops, but beautifully moody, and I can’t fault that choice in cover material.
I had a full day interview here on Friday. Now that’s eight hours straight of me talking about myself coherently and winningly. This is a draining endeavor, no matter how exciting the job or how good of a fit. I did mostly okay except for one specific question where I recall clearly starting to veer into Miss Teen USA territory (“such as“). Hey! Turns out if you don’t know the answer, continuing to talk is not going to help you find it, oddly enough.
In between the real-life stuff going on, I’ve been listening to these songs:
Strange Vine Delta Spirit I just got news today from Rounder Records that they’ve signed Delta Spirit, who I allegedly saw with Port O’Brien at Noise Pop in March but regrettably actually missed due to sensory overload at the time. But I remember reading a review a few days after the festival that Amrit from Stereogum had penned that completely intrigued me: “Matthew Vasquez’s vocals are powerhouse stuff, and his Dylanistic harmonica and melodies worked well over Delta’s roots-rock roots. ‘Strange Vine’ was a standout, riding the sway of old mid-tempo, ’50s-styled r&b rock, with vocal lines ala Alec Ounsworth or Julian Casablancas depending on how the light caught it.” I want to listen more to these guys – they’ve got a great sound and a lot of promise. Their 2007 release was aptly named Ode to Sunshine, and will be re-released by Rounder.
I’m Glad The Black Keys If you’re the grizzled, bluesy force of nature known as The Black Keys, and you’re just sitting around Dan’s house on a Thursday, why not record a Captain Beefheart cover and post it on your MySpace for free download? Why not indeed. Just a few days old, this cover is fuzzy and dirty like it’s being sung through a dusty microphone someone dug up in the garage, then looped back through a decades-old set of crackly speakers. But you know, it’s also just about perfect for some really late-night drunk slow dancing – sad and regretful but with some heat behind it too. Attack & Release is out now, The Black Keys are playing Red Rocks with My Morning Jacket in August, and then next day will be out in San Francisco for Outside Lands.
Never So Strange Morning State The harmonies and vocals on this particular song evoke straight-up ’50s power pop, but there’s also a tenser undercurrent of that good ’90s rock running through it that you know I’m a sucker for. Atlanta’s Morning Statecooks up a jubilant blend with a kick to it. They’ve played shows with Dr. Dog, Peter Bjorn & John, and White Rabbits, all of whom are fun bands that we like round these parts. This is a fun band. Their new album You Know People I Know People is out tomorrow on Indie Outlaw.
Time Can Be Overcome The Constantines Said The Gramophone intrigued me (as they always do) with a fictional vignette Sean constructed around this song, involving a South Korean man in an isolated high-rise apartment: “[He] bought an electric guitar thirteen years ago and every night since then he has spent learning a single song. He does not feel this is slow or fast; it is just right. One day he will play the song, play the whole thing. Meteorites will hammer the city and tsunamis will rise and his heart will come to life in his chest.” Really, I couldn’t ask for more than that. This is a terrific, terrific slowburn of a song. From the Constantines‘ recent release Kensington Heights (Arts & Crafts).
Measure Of The Same Birds of Avalon Kids heading out and paying the big black-market bucks to see The Raconteurs recently on their tiny-club tour were greeted by the psychedelic retro-tinged sounds of Birds of Avalon as openers. A five-piece band from Raleigh, North Carolina, BofA formed from the ashes of previous ’70s garage rock incarnation The Cherry Valence. They actually have a guitar player named Cheetie Kumar, which frankly is reason enough to go see them — also the way she shreds that thing ain’t bad. Their new The Outer Upper Inner EP is out now on Volcom.
Vacate is the word. Arriving at Coachella Sunday, the traffic was light, the sun was shining but not too intensely . . . and the extra ticket my friend had was pretty much impossible to give away. There were tens of thousands there to see some very fine bands for Sunday, but it was not packed-crowded. While surely this was not nice for the organizers, it was good for the dusty masses who were wedged together a little less tightly for the third and final day of Coachella 2008.
Sunday was also basically just The Day I met The Hoff. All else (including shaking Sean Penn’s hand and chatting with M. Ward) pales in direct comparison. It’s like if you look right at the sun and then try to focus on anything else. The brilliance of his tanned Hoff-dom made me want to run down the beach slow-motion in a red tank swimsuit. Oh wait!! Not really.
After unfortunately missing Brett Dennen who I was looking forward to, Sunday actually began with Sean Penn urging us to get on his Dirty Hands Caravan to New Orleans (which would be a cool six days if I could afford just to just up and go). Penn is actually quite a compelling speaker and I admired what he was trying to do. I hope he had some success with the Coachellans. And contrary to advance rumors, Penn brought no special musical guest with him, just his direct earnest stare and his impassioned speech.
Next up was a few fun songs from Detroit/Chicago hybrid duo The Cool Kids on the main stage. They’ve got an old-school hip hop feel with buckets of confidence. I know Chris over at Gorilla vs Bear has been a big fan, saying way back when that they reminded him of “a late ’80s EPMD joint produced by a low-budget version of the Neptunes.” Agreed – not a bad start. Those guys would be amazingly fun to see in a small club – maybe kind of like the time I saw Sugarhill Gang in a tiny (literally) underground club in Italy.
Heading back to the tents, my mind was sent reeling by Holy F*ck, whose brand of lo-fi improvisational electronica is anything but sterile. Watching them pour their hearts into their music, doubled over their machines, radiating intensity — and then hearing the warmly soaring sounds that emerge made me reconsider what’s possible with that genre. They closed with my favorite song of theirs (you must watch them do it) and I know it sounds a bit hyperbolic, but for those final five minutes my soul levitated a little.
I’d been looking forward to the gorgeous vocal interplay, catchy melodies and varied instrumentation of Canadian lush-pop band Stars. I’d caught their live set before, so I knew how engaging Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan’s shared verses and crowd banter could be. Their Set Yourself On Fire album is a favorite of mine and I loved hearing those songs live, alongside the new stuff.
A wandering jaunt backstage revealed a busy crew inflating and painting the massive pig for the Roger Waters set later that night, and the aforementioned Hoff and Penn (sounds like a Vegas magic trick duo). I also tried and clearly failed to suppress my glee at meeting M. Ward, who was waiting to join his friends from My Morning Jacket on stage for their sunset performance.
My Morning Jacket more or less melted my face off. I’d never seen them play live before but from the opening notes of “One Big Holiday” I was pulled into their vortex and duly impressed with how hard they rocked. As a live band MMJ is relentless and fiery and impassioned.
They played through several songs from their new album, which ranged from the fairly-traditional big alt-countrified sounds of “I’m Amazed,” the straight up funky falsetto of “Highly Suspicious,” and a gorgeous rendition of the title track “Evil Urges.” They range so effortlessly from the thrashing rock to the perfect burnished timbre of sunset vocals fading out into the air.
Jim James played a scorching solo while surveying his fifedom from the speaker stacks in his Skeletor boot tops.
M. Ward indeed came out for the second song,”Off The Record,” with little fanfare. M didn’t sing at all to my disappointment, but they had some intense moments of rocking out and clearly enjoyed playing together.
Finally, a slightly blurred (call it artistic) shot of MMJ as the last vestiges of light from Sunday vanished below the horizon. I’m behind them, looking out at the crowd. They played for just a shade under an hour, abruptly leaving the stage at three minutes til 8.
Now, by the time Roger Waters took the stage, everyone in the crowd seemed to fall into two categories, both equally lethargic:
a) those who were doing some form of mood- or mind-altering drugs (not me Mom!) in what one of my friends commented was surely the densest concentration in the world at that moment in time of high people
-or-
b) those who were completely wiped out, who wanted nothing more than to lay on the grass somewhere and watch Roger Waters’ bi-plane drop confetti on us that turned out to be Obama fliers. We were glad it wasn’t biological warfare, which was honestly my first thought.
So while Waters took Coachella to the dark side of the moon, freaked with our minds with the surround sound effects, and released the giant pig that apparently got a bit out of control, I laid in the cooling grass that was just starting to be damp with dew and waited for the Tesla coils to go off, shooting blue-green lightning from coil to sky to earth. They never did for me, not that night.
So I guess that means I’ll be back.
And finally –randomly but perfectly– the song that was looping through my head all that last night:
“What a beautiful face I have found in this place That is circling all around the sun What a beautiful dream that could flash on the screen In a blink of an eye and be gone from me Soft and sweet Let me hold it close and keep it here with me
And one day we will die and our ashes will fly From the aeroplane over the sea But for now we are young Let us lay in the sun And count every beautiful thing we can see Love to be In the arms of all I’m keeping here with me
What a curious life we have found here tonight There is music that sounds from the street There are lights in the clouds and there’s ghosts all around Hear a voice as it’s rolling and ringing through me Soft and sweet How the notes all bend and reach above the trees. . .”
Yellow Bird Project tasks your favorite musicians to design a shirt for a good cause of their choosing.
The latest classy, minimalist, circle-tastic design comes courtesy of Fuel favorites The National(shown below, $25) and previous contributions have been made by folks like Stars, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Rilo Kiley, The Shins, Wolfmother, and Broken Social Scene.
And speaking of The National, this gorgeous video from Coachella made me physically ache; no, I can’t really explain why but just watching it should make you understand too.
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.
This show was the second of three sold-out nights at the classy Great American Music Hall in San Francisco just back in March.
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Name: Heather Browne
