Last Saturday I saw Aqueduct at Holocene. It reminded me that a) they put on a kick-ass show I can enjoy even when stressed by other circumstances, and b) that Holocene's a pretty small room. Not much place to hide. I got there a bit after 9, but the "music" started with a DJ. DJs should only play between sets. They should not get their own set. The Online Romance followed. I've seen them once before, and my opinion hasn't changed--damn cute, poppy, a few interesting lyrics, but I'm afraid they wouldn't stand up to much scrutiny. '60's and '70's-influenced boy-girl-boy-girl vox are cute, and make for a good opening band, but would you really want to listen to it over and over? The other opener was Saturday Looks Good to Me. I'd heard of them, but knew nothing about them. They started with a song that sounded like it belonged in the background of a bad movie, being played by the band in a remote country roadhouse, while the hick protagonists slow-dance and fall in love. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it through the set. But by a few songs in, it had morphed into some really awesome twang-punk reminiscent of early Minneapolis sound. Think Soul Asylum with a little Replacements thrown in. And then, of course, Aqueduct, who just tear it up and pull out all the stops for every show. They sound darling on CD. They kick ass live.
Then last night I saw Art Brut and The Hold Steady at the Crystal Ballroom. Finally, in a room with maybe 700 people in it, the joy of solitude. I got there to see a band setting up--oh, crap, is the first band just getting their shit together now? But no, the first band played a really short set and had already finished. I really didn't need to see The Blood Arm. Art Brut is a bit schlocky, fey Brit-punk, kind of Iggy Pop but a bit gayer. The lead singer twirled his mike and even jumped rope with it. The drummer threw his sticks in the air and caught them. But it wasn't just some novelty act--they really did rock. And it was fun to watch the singer jump into the mosh pit and mosh. This band even managed to get the out-of-place-looking aging businessman to jump up and down, moshing all by himself! The guy took stage banter to a crazy extreme, and most of the time he was just shouting, but the first time he said anything between songs, just a couple of songs into the set, he just paused, looked at the audience, and asked, "Any questions?" Classic.
It was kind of an odd crowd overall. Where'd the guy in the cowboy hat and tie-die come from? And where'd he get the dance that managed to combine that all-arms-and-legs jam-band hippie dance, some sort of square dance rhythm, and the elbows of the chicken dance? And--I didn't even think of this--tons of people were in Twins gear. I totally didn't consider the fact that Craig Finn is a huge Twins fan. I should have worn my Twins stuff!
The Hold Steady set was awesome. They only played a couple of songs I know, and stuck mostly to the new disc, and I still loved it. But this is why I don't own all their stuff and know it all by heart. Craig Finn's got this warm, raspy voice. What The Hold Steady have that Lifter Puller didn't is piano (okay, keyboard, but set to "piano"). Every so often, those two things combine to sound like Rod Stewart's Downtown Train. And that kind of kills it for a moment, until it un-meshes and there's good old loud-punk Hold Steady again.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Friday, November 02, 2007
Good Day/Bad Day
A couple of weeks ago, I went to see John Vanderslice at the Doug Fir. I was pretty excited about it for a few reasons. Great show. Terrrrrrible night. Indescribably terrible. Probably enough said. And if anyone reading this had serious car trouble the next day, it may just be that karma's a bitch.
Tonight, I went to see Loch Lomond, Nick Jaina, and Kele Goodwin. It was at a tiny place, I hesitate to even call it a venue, called the Funky Church. They do have a website, but basically I walked into someone's living room. It's an old, tiny former Catholic church where the church itself might have held sixty people if there were pews, but most of it had been turned into a big kitchen, a living room, and a third room that walls had been built around, kind of in the middle. The music performances happened in the balcony, which was open on both sides, more like a loft. Before I realized that people really did seem to actually live there, I sat in the balcony thinking, "I want to live here! And this would be my living room." Near the arched ceiling, with incredibly old hardwood floors, and a perfect view of the stained glass. OLCC clearly isn't involved--it was mostly BYOB, with some bottles of Two-Buck Chuck next to a vase that said "wine $1 suggested".
Kele Goodwin started out. Super-quiet guy and guitar, singing melancholy songs I could kind of relate to. I'm still cynical enough that a lot of the lyrics made me cringe, but it was beautiful stuff for the less-cynical, and a few of his songs really struck a chord with me, too.
Nick Jaina was quieter than usual, but it was perfect for the venue. I could only sing along with a few songs, because he played a ton of new stuff. But so pretty! Weirdly, no Ali, but Nathan was amazing, and even almost adequately subdued for the quieter set! And the bell plates were just perfect in a church.
Followed by Loch Lomond. Lovely details with varying sources. Pretty, celtic-influenced, but less so than last time I saw them a couple of years ago. He's got a really interesting voice. I was in the right mood for the band, but they're maybe a little fancy and pretty for me.
Tonight, I went to see Loch Lomond, Nick Jaina, and Kele Goodwin. It was at a tiny place, I hesitate to even call it a venue, called the Funky Church. They do have a website, but basically I walked into someone's living room. It's an old, tiny former Catholic church where the church itself might have held sixty people if there were pews, but most of it had been turned into a big kitchen, a living room, and a third room that walls had been built around, kind of in the middle. The music performances happened in the balcony, which was open on both sides, more like a loft. Before I realized that people really did seem to actually live there, I sat in the balcony thinking, "I want to live here! And this would be my living room." Near the arched ceiling, with incredibly old hardwood floors, and a perfect view of the stained glass. OLCC clearly isn't involved--it was mostly BYOB, with some bottles of Two-Buck Chuck next to a vase that said "wine $1 suggested".
Kele Goodwin started out. Super-quiet guy and guitar, singing melancholy songs I could kind of relate to. I'm still cynical enough that a lot of the lyrics made me cringe, but it was beautiful stuff for the less-cynical, and a few of his songs really struck a chord with me, too.
Nick Jaina was quieter than usual, but it was perfect for the venue. I could only sing along with a few songs, because he played a ton of new stuff. But so pretty! Weirdly, no Ali, but Nathan was amazing, and even almost adequately subdued for the quieter set! And the bell plates were just perfect in a church.
Followed by Loch Lomond. Lovely details with varying sources. Pretty, celtic-influenced, but less so than last time I saw them a couple of years ago. He's got a really interesting voice. I was in the right mood for the band, but they're maybe a little fancy and pretty for me.
Friday, September 07, 2007
MusicFest NW Thursday
Tonight started this year's MFNW. Thursday is the light day for shows, so there were really only five venues to choose from. Based on the published schedule, I had a nice, comparatively low-key night planned with four great bands. I headed out to the Crystal Ballroom at about ten minutes past nine, and wasn't all that surprised to find out that they were just letting the last few people in. After all, Viva Voce opening for Spoon should sell out the Crystal. Based on the schedule I had, Viva Voce should be about ten minutes into their set...uh...except for the horn section. And the straightforward, eight-bar or twelve-bar standard R&B riffs. And that voice. What's with this opening-band-at-the-state-fair sound? As I was standing in line at the bar, trying to figure it out, I saw set times posted. I looked at the set times. I looked at the schedule I'd stashed in my back pocket. I looked again. And again. The...uh...oh, hell, it was such a generic name I've forgotten it...Joe Brown Experience? Something like that. That's what was on the posted set time list. That's what I was listening to. (Apparently schedules published later than the one I had matched the schedule on the set lists...but wait, it turns out this error benefited me a bit in the end.) It sucked so bad. Even a good band in this genre would have been a mild improvement, a band where the horn section sounded like they'd met each other before, and had some idea they were on the same stage. Every moment it sounded like they were about to launch into Mustang Sally. Like watching The Commitments without the hard-luck stories or the accents. I was seriously discouraged. I was ready to go home. But I started down the stairs, detoured through Lola's room, and went back up to the balcony and bought a beer. The way the schedule was set up now, Spoon overlapped with Aqueduct at the Doug Fir, rather than there being a nice hour cushion in between. But if I didn't stick around to see Viva Voce, then I didn't have anything to do until midnight, and I've gotten old enough that trying to start something at midnight (this blog excepted, of course) is rather unlikely to happen. So I stayed. Things didn't improve until the band stopped. Yay!
Next up, finally, Viva Voce. I was excited to see them, but also worried...this is the biggest venue by at least a factor of five. Would this capacity crowd, and people getting turned away, happen all over town, making my $40 wristband essentially worthless? I sat through the first few songs of the set mostly worried and ruminating. But they had this fuzz-guitar, pretty-vocals, pounding drums combo that is most likely to drag me out of my funk, and I got really into it. They played a couple songs I know, which also helped. They covered some early-'80's solo-girl-rawk song (probably not Pat Benetar, but that was my best guess), and it was awesome. This was the third time I'd seen them, and each time was different. The first time was balls-to-the-wall rock, and it was great (except that there's a bass there that isn't there...Anita plays guitar, Kevin plays drums...no one plays bass). The second time was mid-day outdoor playful acoustic-rock. And the this time started out all marvelous down-tempo fuzz-rock, and got better from there. Except that they didn't finish with their cover of Alan Parsons Project's Eye In The Sky.
Over to the Doug Fir. Walking up to the ID-taking door guy, and there are a few people milling around. I clearly haven't arrived too late to a full venue--whew!--but there's a short line. I look up toward the ID guy, and there's a familiar t-shirt between me and him. Huh...that's unusual. Someone else has that shirt that...oh...yeah, that was a pretty one-of-a-kind buy...so that means... This happens in a few milliseconds, and my stomach plummets to my feet. I have to walk around my ex-boyfriend, my rather recent ex-boyfriend, the one I've been arguing with recently, just to get to the ID guy. After a minute or two of awkwardness and chit-chat-while-staring-at-my-feet, I turn around with relief, hand over my ID, and get a wrist stamp. I knew he'd be there, but I didn't think he'd be guarding the damn door. May the record reflect that the spot at the end of the bar isn't adequately hidden, and if you try to hide there, the person you're hiding from will sit in the little seating well right next to it. I recommend talking to the guy next to you. It will help.
I was there way too early. After worrying that it would be packed, it turns out there was almost no one there. The band that started up, The New Trust, was described in the fest guide as "Dark Rock." Uh...that'll do, I guess. They had a few moments, mostly hidden, of indie-pop brilliance before the rawk guitars and metal drums crashed back in. But those moments were few and far between, and got less and less prominent as the set went on. Twice, I was jarred out of my reading of the Mercury and/or conversation with the guy next to me when the song broke into a melodic La La La La La. But I was relieved when they ended. They sounded like one of those nu-rock-slash-emo-punk bands that I won't listen to long enough to have enough knowledge to compare this band to.
After suffering through that, and wondering what would become of my night, Aqueduct took the stage. The place is starting to look packed, and despite the dismal previous band, it might have been worth it to show up early. Finally, something that works out to be worth it! So, how is it that a band that cute and sappy (even though they still seriously rock out on stage), a band that I last saw with the ex, a band that writes almost exclusively love songs and lost-love songs, could make me feel so good right now? Even the ex glaring at me from across the bar when he went for a beer couldn't dampen it. Oh, thank god. If that's all I got out of the $40 for the wristband, it would be way too expensive, but I'd consider that I might have gotten enough out of it to justify the expense.
The Shaky Hands followed. This is a band that constantly pulls me both ways. They play such bouncy, folky punk songs, with the punk all Modest-Mouse-influenced, but the punk is so diluted, and the folk makes you think of hippies, and then there are bongos...and you worry you're at a hippie show. But then every song is so tight, and the tight pop puts me in mind of The Talking Heads. Whew...I've fixed it. It's not hippie music. And then I start to wonder again...but the guitar becomes increasingly strident, and suddenly he's channeling Lou Reed in the Velvet Underground days, and all is right with the world...until that other riff starts. So pretty, so poppy...so hippie. But never once did this band, whose debut disc I really enjoy despite the potential hippie-ness, devolve into an extended jam, or some sort of Devendra Banhardt freak-out (despite the shaky, more-than-vibratoed buzz of the lead singer). They were just pop songs, even if the lead singer was barefoot. Aware of the multiple impressions, he joked that he wasn't a hippie despite the dirtiness, need for a haircut (obviously he hadn't seen Aqueduct), and bare feet. "I'm a new-wave hippie. I enjoy mashups of the Grateful Dead and Devo." Probably close to the truth.
And then I was worn out and went home. Tonight was a light night, and I only saw 3 of 4 bands. How will I manage the heavy schedules of Friday and Saturday? Will I manage six shows between 8 pm and 2 am each night? Stay tuned for As The Festival Turns....
Next up, finally, Viva Voce. I was excited to see them, but also worried...this is the biggest venue by at least a factor of five. Would this capacity crowd, and people getting turned away, happen all over town, making my $40 wristband essentially worthless? I sat through the first few songs of the set mostly worried and ruminating. But they had this fuzz-guitar, pretty-vocals, pounding drums combo that is most likely to drag me out of my funk, and I got really into it. They played a couple songs I know, which also helped. They covered some early-'80's solo-girl-rawk song (probably not Pat Benetar, but that was my best guess), and it was awesome. This was the third time I'd seen them, and each time was different. The first time was balls-to-the-wall rock, and it was great (except that there's a bass there that isn't there...Anita plays guitar, Kevin plays drums...no one plays bass). The second time was mid-day outdoor playful acoustic-rock. And the this time started out all marvelous down-tempo fuzz-rock, and got better from there. Except that they didn't finish with their cover of Alan Parsons Project's Eye In The Sky.
Over to the Doug Fir. Walking up to the ID-taking door guy, and there are a few people milling around. I clearly haven't arrived too late to a full venue--whew!--but there's a short line. I look up toward the ID guy, and there's a familiar t-shirt between me and him. Huh...that's unusual. Someone else has that shirt that...oh...yeah, that was a pretty one-of-a-kind buy...so that means... This happens in a few milliseconds, and my stomach plummets to my feet. I have to walk around my ex-boyfriend, my rather recent ex-boyfriend, the one I've been arguing with recently, just to get to the ID guy. After a minute or two of awkwardness and chit-chat-while-staring-at-my-feet, I turn around with relief, hand over my ID, and get a wrist stamp. I knew he'd be there, but I didn't think he'd be guarding the damn door. May the record reflect that the spot at the end of the bar isn't adequately hidden, and if you try to hide there, the person you're hiding from will sit in the little seating well right next to it. I recommend talking to the guy next to you. It will help.
I was there way too early. After worrying that it would be packed, it turns out there was almost no one there. The band that started up, The New Trust, was described in the fest guide as "Dark Rock." Uh...that'll do, I guess. They had a few moments, mostly hidden, of indie-pop brilliance before the rawk guitars and metal drums crashed back in. But those moments were few and far between, and got less and less prominent as the set went on. Twice, I was jarred out of my reading of the Mercury and/or conversation with the guy next to me when the song broke into a melodic La La La La La. But I was relieved when they ended. They sounded like one of those nu-rock-slash-emo-punk bands that I won't listen to long enough to have enough knowledge to compare this band to.
After suffering through that, and wondering what would become of my night, Aqueduct took the stage. The place is starting to look packed, and despite the dismal previous band, it might have been worth it to show up early. Finally, something that works out to be worth it! So, how is it that a band that cute and sappy (even though they still seriously rock out on stage), a band that I last saw with the ex, a band that writes almost exclusively love songs and lost-love songs, could make me feel so good right now? Even the ex glaring at me from across the bar when he went for a beer couldn't dampen it. Oh, thank god. If that's all I got out of the $40 for the wristband, it would be way too expensive, but I'd consider that I might have gotten enough out of it to justify the expense.
The Shaky Hands followed. This is a band that constantly pulls me both ways. They play such bouncy, folky punk songs, with the punk all Modest-Mouse-influenced, but the punk is so diluted, and the folk makes you think of hippies, and then there are bongos...and you worry you're at a hippie show. But then every song is so tight, and the tight pop puts me in mind of The Talking Heads. Whew...I've fixed it. It's not hippie music. And then I start to wonder again...but the guitar becomes increasingly strident, and suddenly he's channeling Lou Reed in the Velvet Underground days, and all is right with the world...until that other riff starts. So pretty, so poppy...so hippie. But never once did this band, whose debut disc I really enjoy despite the potential hippie-ness, devolve into an extended jam, or some sort of Devendra Banhardt freak-out (despite the shaky, more-than-vibratoed buzz of the lead singer). They were just pop songs, even if the lead singer was barefoot. Aware of the multiple impressions, he joked that he wasn't a hippie despite the dirtiness, need for a haircut (obviously he hadn't seen Aqueduct), and bare feet. "I'm a new-wave hippie. I enjoy mashups of the Grateful Dead and Devo." Probably close to the truth.
And then I was worn out and went home. Tonight was a light night, and I only saw 3 of 4 bands. How will I manage the heavy schedules of Friday and Saturday? Will I manage six shows between 8 pm and 2 am each night? Stay tuned for As The Festival Turns....
Monday, August 06, 2007
Day two!
Started the day with Blue Skies for Black Hearts. I really like their track on the '06 compilation, so I had high expectations. It started out pretty '90s alt-country. After a couple of songs, I decided to find some food, or beer, or something. ProRow is no longer open on Sundays, it turns out, and I wasn't all that hungry anyway, so after a bit of circling (drove back by the festival, heard a bit that might have been better from BS4BH) I headed back to La Merde. Intentionally missed System and Station, partly because I've heard them before and didn't like them, partly because it's Nice Girl Guy's band. And I am just not in the mood to be hit on by a short, balding guy with protuberant eyes behind self-consciously hipster glasses, and be called a Nice Girl.
Got back in time for just a few minutes of Blue Cranes, a pretty straightforward but fun jazz combo, like Happy Apple or something. It sounded promising, but not really what I was there for. If the Blue Monk still did jazz, I'd enjoy seeing them there. This was followed by a rather nonsensical bit from The Robot Ate Me...and not the kind of nonsensical I was expecting. I know them from one song on a Yeti compilation and one on a PDX Pop Now, and expected goofy, exuberant experimental indie-noise-pop. Instead, there were three whispery-quiet folky songs by one guy, followed by several minutes of him standing silently and staring at the audience, before walking off the stage. What the hell? Weirdo, or diva?
Laura Gibson up next. She's got this amazing, perfect voice (think Astrud Gilberto doing The Girl from Ipanema, but without the accent), and she and her band (with a saw in one song!) did lovely, subdued songs that were rather catchy. This is what I imagine I'll listen to when I'm old, and still have good taste but less energy. Jarring transition to the Nice Boys, who did pure retro rawk that ranged from sounding like early Replacements, to mid-'80s almost-twangy not-quite-hair-rock, to almost rockabilly. Any of these songs could have been covers, but weren't. Fun on a totally irony-infused level. And they looked the part, too (more almost-hair-band than Replacements).
Dat'r up next. They have really gotten their shit together. They're tight, balanced, and solid-sounding, and still crazy-manic dancetronica that layers live drums (by Paul Alcott, no less) over electro beats, and fills in with awesome synth noises triggered by Atari joysticks. The vocals have gotten good, too, making them pretty much indisputably kick-ass. I almost danced! Finally, the Shaky Hands. In my mind, this was the expected highlight of the weekend. They weren't so stellar as to knock me on my ass, and added a bit more rock and groove to their recorded music's loud-but-catchy Modest-Mouse-lite sound, but a great set.
Oh, and if you find yourself unexpectedly in Portland's Eastside Industrial district around lunchtime, AudioCinema makes a marvelous jerk chicken leg. It's not something to write home to the Caribbean about (the seasoning is mild and probably not very traditional), but it's lovely nonetheless.
Headed over to La Merde again (skipped Evolutionary Jass Band and Yellow Swans), and like last night, it left me inadequately motivated to return for the last set of the night (Blitzen Trapper tonight). But the cute guy who went with me to La Merde wants to call me again, so there's that.
Got back in time for just a few minutes of Blue Cranes, a pretty straightforward but fun jazz combo, like Happy Apple or something. It sounded promising, but not really what I was there for. If the Blue Monk still did jazz, I'd enjoy seeing them there. This was followed by a rather nonsensical bit from The Robot Ate Me...and not the kind of nonsensical I was expecting. I know them from one song on a Yeti compilation and one on a PDX Pop Now, and expected goofy, exuberant experimental indie-noise-pop. Instead, there were three whispery-quiet folky songs by one guy, followed by several minutes of him standing silently and staring at the audience, before walking off the stage. What the hell? Weirdo, or diva?
Laura Gibson up next. She's got this amazing, perfect voice (think Astrud Gilberto doing The Girl from Ipanema, but without the accent), and she and her band (with a saw in one song!) did lovely, subdued songs that were rather catchy. This is what I imagine I'll listen to when I'm old, and still have good taste but less energy. Jarring transition to the Nice Boys, who did pure retro rawk that ranged from sounding like early Replacements, to mid-'80s almost-twangy not-quite-hair-rock, to almost rockabilly. Any of these songs could have been covers, but weren't. Fun on a totally irony-infused level. And they looked the part, too (more almost-hair-band than Replacements).
Dat'r up next. They have really gotten their shit together. They're tight, balanced, and solid-sounding, and still crazy-manic dancetronica that layers live drums (by Paul Alcott, no less) over electro beats, and fills in with awesome synth noises triggered by Atari joysticks. The vocals have gotten good, too, making them pretty much indisputably kick-ass. I almost danced! Finally, the Shaky Hands. In my mind, this was the expected highlight of the weekend. They weren't so stellar as to knock me on my ass, and added a bit more rock and groove to their recorded music's loud-but-catchy Modest-Mouse-lite sound, but a great set.
Oh, and if you find yourself unexpectedly in Portland's Eastside Industrial district around lunchtime, AudioCinema makes a marvelous jerk chicken leg. It's not something to write home to the Caribbean about (the seasoning is mild and probably not very traditional), but it's lovely nonetheless.
Headed over to La Merde again (skipped Evolutionary Jass Band and Yellow Swans), and like last night, it left me inadequately motivated to return for the last set of the night (Blitzen Trapper tonight). But the cute guy who went with me to La Merde wants to call me again, so there's that.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
PDX Pop Now! Part 1 (okay, 2)
Yeah, it's a 3-day festival, and I skipped day 1. But there were too few bands to see on Friday, and none in a row. So I started today.
I wanted to see Dragging an Ox Through Water, but they played several hours before anyone else I wanted to see, so I didn't get over there for it. I did try to see my ex's performance of As You Like It in the park, but when you've got a park sandwiched between every single downtown bus going north, and every single downtown bus going south, it makes it hard to hear enough follow the play (plus the police sirens, and the guys who think the noise their motorcycles make is an adequate replacement for manhood...). Once enjoying the play is off the table, the social implications of being there around all those people who know him, and know me only through him, got to be a bit much. Which is worse, someone studiously avoiding you because all they know is that their friend dumped you and they don't know what to say, or someone making an effort to talk to you despite that all they know is that their friend dumped you, and they still don't know what to say? Rather than dealing with the worst of both of those, I bailed, and caught part of AristeiA. Pretty, ambie-indie without much for vox, some edgier moments.
I went home for a bit before coming back for Point Juncture, WA. Stunning as always, though the reverb under the bridge emphasized some elements (trumpet, vibraphone) and messed up others (vocals were flat and lost, guitars were harsh and trebly). I've seen part of a Per Se set once (PDX Pop Now! '06, actually), and they're much the same. Lovely, ultra-twee 2-girl vox, often without accompaniment beyond hand-claps, though sometimes with two guitars and drums. They're really very good. I can't handle a whole set of something that sweet. So after a while I took off down the street to the bar (called...those of you that speak any french will enjoy this...La Merde). Came back in time to see the last five minutes of Ethan Rose...who finished five minutes early. Eh...experimental, according to the festival press.
Speaking of experimental, two minutes into Starfucker's set (basically Sexton Blake has gotten prolific enough to spill into a second band), I was wondering why I had come back. By 3 minutes, they'd launched into a spectacular, perfect, loud and crashing indie-pop-rock song. By 3 1/2 minutes, "...was that it?" Super-short little gems separated by swirling noise. Two guys with drumsticks, two dancers, the rest electro. Dancers? Really? This is a band that doesn't need the visual distractions, but could benefit from seeing the guys on stage paying attention to the synth sounds. Next was The Maybe Happening. They're tighter and better every time I see them, without losing any of their trademark wildness. Guitar, drums, and lead violins, and it's fun every single time to see Nathan bouncing around, trying to dance to his tiny solo while he plays his violin like a lead guitar. Add to that image the sounds of indie-pop, Isaac Brock vocals and rhythms, rawk-god guitar, and circus music. Got it? No? Just go see 'em. They were followed by Swim Swam Swum. Power-trio setup. Unfortunately, I was poisoned by the description of this band. Sure, once you tell me that, I hear The Promise Ring, the only band ever called emo (back when it was "emocore") that I loved, and for good reason. But they also had a great Modest Mouse quality, melodically screaming vocals over guitars that veered effortlessly from jewel-toned to distortion. They were like the best of indie/college radio circa 1999, but without sounding dated (of course, this stuff still sounds amazing to me in my CD player). And so tight and put-together, I wonder where this band came from that I haven't seen them or heard of them yet.
After that, there wasn't anything that appealed to me for another 3 hours. I headed off to La Merde again, but I just got tired waiting. It's reportedly one of the last Snuggle Ups shows, andd I've missed it. Damn, I'm getting too old. But it's also the downfall of an all-ages venue that's dry, I have to head out to get a beer, and I'm unlikely to come back. I came back once, but twice is too much.
More tomorrow.
I wanted to see Dragging an Ox Through Water, but they played several hours before anyone else I wanted to see, so I didn't get over there for it. I did try to see my ex's performance of As You Like It in the park, but when you've got a park sandwiched between every single downtown bus going north, and every single downtown bus going south, it makes it hard to hear enough follow the play (plus the police sirens, and the guys who think the noise their motorcycles make is an adequate replacement for manhood...). Once enjoying the play is off the table, the social implications of being there around all those people who know him, and know me only through him, got to be a bit much. Which is worse, someone studiously avoiding you because all they know is that their friend dumped you and they don't know what to say, or someone making an effort to talk to you despite that all they know is that their friend dumped you, and they still don't know what to say? Rather than dealing with the worst of both of those, I bailed, and caught part of AristeiA. Pretty, ambie-indie without much for vox, some edgier moments.
I went home for a bit before coming back for Point Juncture, WA. Stunning as always, though the reverb under the bridge emphasized some elements (trumpet, vibraphone) and messed up others (vocals were flat and lost, guitars were harsh and trebly). I've seen part of a Per Se set once (PDX Pop Now! '06, actually), and they're much the same. Lovely, ultra-twee 2-girl vox, often without accompaniment beyond hand-claps, though sometimes with two guitars and drums. They're really very good. I can't handle a whole set of something that sweet. So after a while I took off down the street to the bar (called...those of you that speak any french will enjoy this...La Merde). Came back in time to see the last five minutes of Ethan Rose...who finished five minutes early. Eh...experimental, according to the festival press.
Speaking of experimental, two minutes into Starfucker's set (basically Sexton Blake has gotten prolific enough to spill into a second band), I was wondering why I had come back. By 3 minutes, they'd launched into a spectacular, perfect, loud and crashing indie-pop-rock song. By 3 1/2 minutes, "...was that it?" Super-short little gems separated by swirling noise. Two guys with drumsticks, two dancers, the rest electro. Dancers? Really? This is a band that doesn't need the visual distractions, but could benefit from seeing the guys on stage paying attention to the synth sounds. Next was The Maybe Happening. They're tighter and better every time I see them, without losing any of their trademark wildness. Guitar, drums, and lead violins, and it's fun every single time to see Nathan bouncing around, trying to dance to his tiny solo while he plays his violin like a lead guitar. Add to that image the sounds of indie-pop, Isaac Brock vocals and rhythms, rawk-god guitar, and circus music. Got it? No? Just go see 'em. They were followed by Swim Swam Swum. Power-trio setup. Unfortunately, I was poisoned by the description of this band. Sure, once you tell me that, I hear The Promise Ring, the only band ever called emo (back when it was "emocore") that I loved, and for good reason. But they also had a great Modest Mouse quality, melodically screaming vocals over guitars that veered effortlessly from jewel-toned to distortion. They were like the best of indie/college radio circa 1999, but without sounding dated (of course, this stuff still sounds amazing to me in my CD player). And so tight and put-together, I wonder where this band came from that I haven't seen them or heard of them yet.
After that, there wasn't anything that appealed to me for another 3 hours. I headed off to La Merde again, but I just got tired waiting. It's reportedly one of the last Snuggle Ups shows, andd I've missed it. Damn, I'm getting too old. But it's also the downfall of an all-ages venue that's dry, I have to head out to get a beer, and I'm unlikely to come back. I came back once, but twice is too much.
More tomorrow.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
So glad I went.
"I was walking around feeling satisfied. Can you imagine that? Then she cuts me loose. I don't know why. She won't tell me. Who knows the real reason? Maybe it's because of her father, I don't know. She won't talk to me. She won't even look at me."
--Lloyd Dobbler
Okay, I've been an emotional train wreck lately. I'm unemployed, I was broken up with this week, I've been in the blackest funk imaginable. I made myself go to this show for something to do, something to get myself out of the house. Nire, The Online Romance, and Sexton Blake at the Doug Fir.
I get there, and there's a wedding reception going on on the patio of the Jupiter Hotel (the same property that also contains the DF). Not a good sign, in my mind. But I head on in. I'm determined to have some fun.
I walk in just in time to hear Nire say, "Thanks, everyone, The Online Romance is up next!" I think that's the second time that's all I've heard from them. Oh well. Stupid parking...not only is there the show, and the wedding, but get this: Vanilla Ice is playing a creepy club down the block called Outlaws. Seriously. Vanilla Ice. The crowd standing in line for that place was indescribably, skin-crawlingly gross. Where do you get clothes like that, Hicks 'n' Prostitutes 'R' Us? So my intention to catch 15 minutes of the opening band was supplanted by 15 minutes of looking for parking.
The last thing I'm up for tonight is starting out by waiting through a set change. I went to get a beer, largely to convince myself to stay. But it gives me some time to watch the crowd. I begin to play a game with myself, picking out the people who came from the wedding (even if they'd stopped up to their room at the Jupiter and changed) as opposed to people who came because they knew they wanted to see the bands. Large group sitting at one of the few tables introducing each other and talking about their teaching careers: Wedding. Dancing Girl with the Excessively Aquiline Nose: Wedding. Four unfortunately sexily-dressed 50-year-olds in the corner: Wedding. Girls with big purses and skirts, shoulders in, wide-eyed, looking around nervously: Wedding.
So after that uplifting little game of cynicism and schadenfreude (is it schadenfreude if they don't even know how unfortunate they are?), The Online Romance started. It's not a good band name. It makes one think of My Chemical Romance. You immediately expect falsely dark adolescent emo. But no! It was stellar, Barsuk-ready, guilelessly referential perky and charming indie-pop. Earnest, non-ironic, bouncy, the perfect indie band circa 2007. It was a 5-piece band with an odd stage setup. The drummer sat in front, with the four other members behind him. The drummer was the only one who didn't sing. Not just boy-girl harmonies, but boy-girl-boy-girl harmonies. They started with just the keyboardist and a vocalist on stage, she backed him up and he sang about never falling in love with you again...and then falling in love with you again. In my pathetically emotionally vulnerable state, it made me want to vomit...but that beautiful, perfect '70's soft-rock combination of keyboards and falsetto...it was amazing! Fine, I'll stick around until I finish my beer. From then on, they had all five members on stage. Usually I find a band that shares lead vox duties among many members to be disjointed and incohesive, but this band had a remarkably consistent sound despite the changes in voice. And many songs had no particular lead vocalist, but passed them around or engaged in four-part bits that never, ever sounded like a barbershop quartet. Along with the '70's lite crooning, they used '60's pop conventions for their own purposes as skillfully as Elvis Costello. And I noticed during this set that the sticker that indicates that one has backstage privileges was a Tillamook cheese label! Near the end of their set, The Online Romance covered Toto's Hold The Line (...love isn't always on time...). And I smiled. I needed a good smile.
Sexton Blake headlined the night. Every time I've seen them they've been a different band entirely. There's the pop song Emma, on PDX Pop Now! 2004, that is so perfect I put it on a compilation for my mom (yeah, my 57-year-old mom loves her some good, clean indie-pop). There was the time I saw them live, with four or five people onstage, and they were an experimental '80's-themed electronic band in matching vests. There was that other time I saw them, and they were a three-or-four-person super-loud noise band (also, I believe, in some sort of uniform). The preview I read for the show indicated that SB is really the brain child of just one guy, and it's a great loud indie-pop outfit, and he just put out a disc called Sexton Blake...Plays the Hits! In which he covers a shitload of mediocre '80's pop songs, and does so miraculously. I hoped for the latter.
I got the latter. Two skinny guys in t-shirts bent over a pile of keyboards, a drum set, a Rickenbacher guitar (squee!), an acoustic guitar, a Fisher-Price toy keyboard-xylophone toy (used for Emma), and a harmonium. Playing terrific, danceable indie-pop that usually had an electronic beep-bloop vibe, but sometimes was just strummed guitar. Rather than the dressed-to-match polish of previous shows, they ended most songs in what seemed like the middle, like they just kind of ran out of song. They were humble, adorable, and happy. In past shows, the lead guy seemed to be the mop-top guy, but this time the guy who looks like my next-door-neighbor did all the talking, so I don't know which one guy is the "one man band" referenced in the weekly. They played Emma, which I haven't heard live (and that's where the toy key-xylo came in). And they played three songs from ...Plays the Hits! The first was Rod Stewart's Young Turks (Young hearts be free tonight! Time is on your side!). Such a crappy song. Such a transcendent cover. I may be the world's worst sucker for cross-genre covers, but for the first time tonight, perhaps for the first time in days, I smiled. Grinned, really. The Twins managed to score 32 runs in a doubleheader the day before, but that really didn't lift me out of my murk, but a completely unwarranted Rod Stewart cover? Better than drugs. (I have to give some serious credit to the Toto cover, though, for softening me up considerably). Sexton Blake also covered Bruce Springsteen's Hungry Heart and (oh my god...no way) Kim Carnes' Bette Davis Eyes, a song I actually really loved as a kid.
After the show, I asked the guy who seemed to be the lead this time about his hat. "Is that an old-school Pittsburgh Pirates hat?" "I dunno...I just got it at a thrift store. I decided it's P for Portland." I was disappointed, but not crushed. It's hard to be crushed when buoyed by Toto and Bette Davis Eyes.
--Lloyd Dobbler
Okay, I've been an emotional train wreck lately. I'm unemployed, I was broken up with this week, I've been in the blackest funk imaginable. I made myself go to this show for something to do, something to get myself out of the house. Nire, The Online Romance, and Sexton Blake at the Doug Fir.
I get there, and there's a wedding reception going on on the patio of the Jupiter Hotel (the same property that also contains the DF). Not a good sign, in my mind. But I head on in. I'm determined to have some fun.
I walk in just in time to hear Nire say, "Thanks, everyone, The Online Romance is up next!" I think that's the second time that's all I've heard from them. Oh well. Stupid parking...not only is there the show, and the wedding, but get this: Vanilla Ice is playing a creepy club down the block called Outlaws. Seriously. Vanilla Ice. The crowd standing in line for that place was indescribably, skin-crawlingly gross. Where do you get clothes like that, Hicks 'n' Prostitutes 'R' Us? So my intention to catch 15 minutes of the opening band was supplanted by 15 minutes of looking for parking.
The last thing I'm up for tonight is starting out by waiting through a set change. I went to get a beer, largely to convince myself to stay. But it gives me some time to watch the crowd. I begin to play a game with myself, picking out the people who came from the wedding (even if they'd stopped up to their room at the Jupiter and changed) as opposed to people who came because they knew they wanted to see the bands. Large group sitting at one of the few tables introducing each other and talking about their teaching careers: Wedding. Dancing Girl with the Excessively Aquiline Nose: Wedding. Four unfortunately sexily-dressed 50-year-olds in the corner: Wedding. Girls with big purses and skirts, shoulders in, wide-eyed, looking around nervously: Wedding.
So after that uplifting little game of cynicism and schadenfreude (is it schadenfreude if they don't even know how unfortunate they are?), The Online Romance started. It's not a good band name. It makes one think of My Chemical Romance. You immediately expect falsely dark adolescent emo. But no! It was stellar, Barsuk-ready, guilelessly referential perky and charming indie-pop. Earnest, non-ironic, bouncy, the perfect indie band circa 2007. It was a 5-piece band with an odd stage setup. The drummer sat in front, with the four other members behind him. The drummer was the only one who didn't sing. Not just boy-girl harmonies, but boy-girl-boy-girl harmonies. They started with just the keyboardist and a vocalist on stage, she backed him up and he sang about never falling in love with you again...and then falling in love with you again. In my pathetically emotionally vulnerable state, it made me want to vomit...but that beautiful, perfect '70's soft-rock combination of keyboards and falsetto...it was amazing! Fine, I'll stick around until I finish my beer. From then on, they had all five members on stage. Usually I find a band that shares lead vox duties among many members to be disjointed and incohesive, but this band had a remarkably consistent sound despite the changes in voice. And many songs had no particular lead vocalist, but passed them around or engaged in four-part bits that never, ever sounded like a barbershop quartet. Along with the '70's lite crooning, they used '60's pop conventions for their own purposes as skillfully as Elvis Costello. And I noticed during this set that the sticker that indicates that one has backstage privileges was a Tillamook cheese label! Near the end of their set, The Online Romance covered Toto's Hold The Line (...love isn't always on time...). And I smiled. I needed a good smile.
Sexton Blake headlined the night. Every time I've seen them they've been a different band entirely. There's the pop song Emma, on PDX Pop Now! 2004, that is so perfect I put it on a compilation for my mom (yeah, my 57-year-old mom loves her some good, clean indie-pop). There was the time I saw them live, with four or five people onstage, and they were an experimental '80's-themed electronic band in matching vests. There was that other time I saw them, and they were a three-or-four-person super-loud noise band (also, I believe, in some sort of uniform). The preview I read for the show indicated that SB is really the brain child of just one guy, and it's a great loud indie-pop outfit, and he just put out a disc called Sexton Blake...Plays the Hits! In which he covers a shitload of mediocre '80's pop songs, and does so miraculously. I hoped for the latter.
I got the latter. Two skinny guys in t-shirts bent over a pile of keyboards, a drum set, a Rickenbacher guitar (squee!), an acoustic guitar, a Fisher-Price toy keyboard-xylophone toy (used for Emma), and a harmonium. Playing terrific, danceable indie-pop that usually had an electronic beep-bloop vibe, but sometimes was just strummed guitar. Rather than the dressed-to-match polish of previous shows, they ended most songs in what seemed like the middle, like they just kind of ran out of song. They were humble, adorable, and happy. In past shows, the lead guy seemed to be the mop-top guy, but this time the guy who looks like my next-door-neighbor did all the talking, so I don't know which one guy is the "one man band" referenced in the weekly. They played Emma, which I haven't heard live (and that's where the toy key-xylo came in). And they played three songs from ...Plays the Hits! The first was Rod Stewart's Young Turks (Young hearts be free tonight! Time is on your side!). Such a crappy song. Such a transcendent cover. I may be the world's worst sucker for cross-genre covers, but for the first time tonight, perhaps for the first time in days, I smiled. Grinned, really. The Twins managed to score 32 runs in a doubleheader the day before, but that really didn't lift me out of my murk, but a completely unwarranted Rod Stewart cover? Better than drugs. (I have to give some serious credit to the Toto cover, though, for softening me up considerably). Sexton Blake also covered Bruce Springsteen's Hungry Heart and (oh my god...no way) Kim Carnes' Bette Davis Eyes, a song I actually really loved as a kid.
After the show, I asked the guy who seemed to be the lead this time about his hat. "Is that an old-school Pittsburgh Pirates hat?" "I dunno...I just got it at a thrift store. I decided it's P for Portland." I was disappointed, but not crushed. It's hard to be crushed when buoyed by Toto and Bette Davis Eyes.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Sheesh, where've I been?
I swear, I have been out seeing music. It's been a busy...gosh, has it been 9 months? The Boyfriend moved in, and he and I then moved to a new place, I finished and defended the big paper, all sorts of busy-ness. So I haven't had time to write. But I'm back now, and you'll forgive me, right?
The last month or two has been pretty quiet for shows, but it seems spring has sprung, and bands are celebrating by getting out into dark, windowless basements late at night! Last night I saw Nick Jaina at Mississippi Studios. I've been to MS twice now, both times to see Nick. It's a bit too grown-up a venue for me, with chairs set out in rows and earnest folkies strumming guitars onstage.
Openers: Douglas someone? Someone Douglas? Hushed, fingerpicking folk songs with some....zzzzzzzzz. Oh, sorry. Molly Rose: A young barista, big-eyed hipster-waif, who drove down from Seattle to sing strummy folk songs about death and crushes and, uh, I guess I stopped paying attention after a while. I liked one song okay. The Boyfriend asked me why I like some indie folk, like Horsefeathers and Iron and Wine, but not acts like these. So I spent much of my time during these two sets mentally debating what the difference is between good, engaging indie-folk and coffee-shop-in-a-Borders-Books folk. I didn't come up with an answer, but at least it gave me something to do while waiting for Nick to start. (Verdict: Both opening acts were 15% the former, 85% the latter).
Nick J: Seven people crammed onto the tiny stage. A pump organ. These weird things called bell plates. Nathan the violinist was mostly pushed offstage into the audience. It was a comparatively introspective set from Nick, and he pulled out two songs he had written years ago and hasn't played since (including one that was a dead ringer for a lost Dylan song). He also had two new ones! A few rollicking tunes (can't help it when Nathan's singing along, like on Battleground), but overall a bit quieter and more serious than usual. Oh, and a hilarious monologue about having discovered American Idol. Absolutely awesome.
The last month or two has been pretty quiet for shows, but it seems spring has sprung, and bands are celebrating by getting out into dark, windowless basements late at night! Last night I saw Nick Jaina at Mississippi Studios. I've been to MS twice now, both times to see Nick. It's a bit too grown-up a venue for me, with chairs set out in rows and earnest folkies strumming guitars onstage.
Openers: Douglas someone? Someone Douglas? Hushed, fingerpicking folk songs with some....zzzzzzzzz. Oh, sorry. Molly Rose: A young barista, big-eyed hipster-waif, who drove down from Seattle to sing strummy folk songs about death and crushes and, uh, I guess I stopped paying attention after a while. I liked one song okay. The Boyfriend asked me why I like some indie folk, like Horsefeathers and Iron and Wine, but not acts like these. So I spent much of my time during these two sets mentally debating what the difference is between good, engaging indie-folk and coffee-shop-in-a-Borders-Books folk. I didn't come up with an answer, but at least it gave me something to do while waiting for Nick to start. (Verdict: Both opening acts were 15% the former, 85% the latter).
Nick J: Seven people crammed onto the tiny stage. A pump organ. These weird things called bell plates. Nathan the violinist was mostly pushed offstage into the audience. It was a comparatively introspective set from Nick, and he pulled out two songs he had written years ago and hasn't played since (including one that was a dead ringer for a lost Dylan song). He also had two new ones! A few rollicking tunes (can't help it when Nathan's singing along, like on Battleground), but overall a bit quieter and more serious than usual. Oh, and a hilarious monologue about having discovered American Idol. Absolutely awesome.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Catching up, slowly.
Again, here I am behind in my reviews. Saturday the 17th, I saw Built to Spill at the Crystal Ballroom! I got there for half of the Prids' set. They were loud. They played rock music. Meh.
Next up, Brett Netson. A member of BtS, I expected good things. Boy, was I wrong. '70's soporific medievalist meandering aimless hippie jam crap. 3 "songs", 45 minutes. But during that otherwise wasted time, I spent a lot of time observing the band. The guitarist reminded me of frightwig (who can be found at a blog entitled sundappled wood), only old and balding. But it was the vibraphonist who I couldn't stop watching. Like a train wreck. I've never seen anyone who so obviously has an eating disorder. From where I was sitting, I had so little perspective I couldn't tell you how tall she was, but I'm gonna estimate 5'6". And she couldn't have weighed 75 pounds. The hollow face, the sunken chest, the convex upper arms, the shoulder blades and spine and scapulae...just looking at her was so sad and frightening. I might look like that if I lost 45 pounds. Maybe. I don't understand how she could be on tour with two bandmates and two other bands, and no one thinks, "she's sick, she won't make it. She needs to be in the hospital." That really rattled me.
Then, finally, BtS. The visuals behind them really captured my attention. And you know how I feel about that kind of thing. It always makes me wonder, "Why do you feel you need to distract me from the music?" But BtS wasn't hiding behind cool visuals. The images, ranging from cartoony to Joan Miro, were kinda fascinating and didn't take anything away from the performance. It was a great show, not too jam-bandy (Nick asked me, "You went to see Built to Spill? Aren't they... (nose wrinkled in subtle distaste) ...kind of a jam band???" Sheesh, some people's histories skip entire decades.), absorbing and intense. Unlike that one time I saw them in Charlottesville, they didn't end the show with Freebird, but those guys put on a great live show every time.
I've seen a zillion other shows, so more to come, I hope...
Next up, Brett Netson. A member of BtS, I expected good things. Boy, was I wrong. '70's soporific medievalist meandering aimless hippie jam crap. 3 "songs", 45 minutes. But during that otherwise wasted time, I spent a lot of time observing the band. The guitarist reminded me of frightwig (who can be found at a blog entitled sundappled wood), only old and balding. But it was the vibraphonist who I couldn't stop watching. Like a train wreck. I've never seen anyone who so obviously has an eating disorder. From where I was sitting, I had so little perspective I couldn't tell you how tall she was, but I'm gonna estimate 5'6". And she couldn't have weighed 75 pounds. The hollow face, the sunken chest, the convex upper arms, the shoulder blades and spine and scapulae...just looking at her was so sad and frightening. I might look like that if I lost 45 pounds. Maybe. I don't understand how she could be on tour with two bandmates and two other bands, and no one thinks, "she's sick, she won't make it. She needs to be in the hospital." That really rattled me.
Then, finally, BtS. The visuals behind them really captured my attention. And you know how I feel about that kind of thing. It always makes me wonder, "Why do you feel you need to distract me from the music?" But BtS wasn't hiding behind cool visuals. The images, ranging from cartoony to Joan Miro, were kinda fascinating and didn't take anything away from the performance. It was a great show, not too jam-bandy (Nick asked me, "You went to see Built to Spill? Aren't they... (nose wrinkled in subtle distaste) ...kind of a jam band???" Sheesh, some people's histories skip entire decades.), absorbing and intense. Unlike that one time I saw them in Charlottesville, they didn't end the show with Freebird, but those guys put on a great live show every time.
I've seen a zillion other shows, so more to come, I hope...
Sunday, June 04, 2006
I'm so behind!
I have so many reviews to catch up on. It's been a busy week.
First off, Jamie Lidell, Copy, and...hmmm...someone else, at Holocene. Crap, I hate it when I get so far behind I forget who I saw. I had a good friend visiting me, and I promised to get him out to see a show or two. I remember that the first band was "okay, it's electronica." Copy, too, was electronica. I expected to recognize the song on the PDX Pop Now! compilation, at least, but no. Maybe he didn't play it. But it all kinda sounded alike, long blurry swirling whatever, no vocals, just a guy and his keytar. Jamie Lidell: This man's insane. Sometimes that's fun. A blues-influenced screaming Brit in a satin smoking jacket.
Now, I'm going to attempt to review Sasquatch. I fully expect to fail.
The first day, we saw more weather than music. Thunder, lightning, 45 minutes of hail. People made hailmen. Thankfully, we found an indoor sanctuary and didn't get too wet. When we first got there, the sun was shining, Iron and Wine was playing, god was in his heaven and all was right with the world. It was a long, long drive, and we missed some stuff I wanted to see, including Sufjan Stevens, Rogue Wave, and Architecture in Helsinki. I think I saw Band of Horses and liked them, until the hail chased them off the stage. I ended up buying their CD, and it's pretty damn good. Lovely, fuzzy, intense, sort of on a My Morning Jacket - Arcade Fire axis. Neko Case got hailed out entirely. From then on, the main stage was behind. The Tragically Hip were interesting and totally internally consistent. The Shins were pretty great--much poppier, rockier, and more hyper than I expected, given what I've heard. I should buy some Shins. Then, a long wait. The side stages had long been shut down. And after all that wait, it was announced that Ben Harper would play first, and then the Flaming Lips. Oh, fer crying out loud. Ben Harper's stoner neo-hippie played-out jam band crap never belonged on this bill in the first place, and now I'd have to sit through that to hear the Flaming Lips? And I'm frickin' freezing. Shit. I've got a cozy little cabin waiting for me in Soap Lake, I'm tired, and I just don't have the patience to sit through Ben Harper, even for the Flaming Lips. So we left.
Sunday was so much better. So. Much. Better. After corn dogs in Ephrata, we got there in time to hear most of the Nada Surf set. They really rocked it, reminding me that the dimensions of an artist's music that get emphasized in a recording are often not the aspects that come through best live. Kick ass. We missed Pretty Girls Make Graves, and that's another band I still need to see. We wandered off and saw some okay stuff at the third stage, then some of the Arctic Monkeys set on the main stage. They were fun rock. That is all. Next up: The Decemberists. Strangely, my first intro to them was at Sasquatch in 2004. My review then: "What the fuck is with all the accordion?" Clearly, I've developed a much finer ear for them since. What an amazing show. Colin Meloy just teases the audience, shushing them or drawing them out at will. He's such a performer. It inspired me to buy Her Majesty The Decemberists, the only disc I didn't own. For the record, the friend with me was equally impressed. Strangely, as I spent the drive playing the Decemberists for my friend, ensuring he was adequately prepared for the show, Colin seemed to be listening in. He spent the first half of the show carefully mimicking the playlist from the drive from our cabin. To the 3rd stage for Rocky Votolato. Cute & hip-folky. Over to the second stage for some We Are Scientists (they Rock (tm). 's about it.) A few songs from Matisyahu (I hate reggae, and I'm pretty picky about hiphop...sure, a Hassidic Jew claiming these art forms is novel, but it doesn't make it sound any better), then back to stage 2 for some Damien Jurado. I know the man's a lovely songwriter, but by this time in the weekend, he was barely background music. Sorry, Damien, next time. I promise. A bit of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (cute and energetic, trying to rock hard), Then back to the main stage for DCFC. Though he often speaks to the crowd, Ben Gibbard seemed to almost have taken a page from the Decemberists' playbook in the way he turned the show into a dialogue. And they rock so hard live. Every ballad and sweet pop number develops a driving beat and a vocal attack that make it sound brand new. Finally, Beck. He played his songs. There were puppets of the band playing the songs, projected behind the stage. My friend really didn't know a lot of the music over the weekend, and said some really objective, insightful things. About Beck: "It was like he didn't care that the audience was there." Stupid scientology. We left early. And we did, eventually, find the car, despite my picking it out from a distance, then deciding it wasn't, actually, my car. But I double-checked! And it was.
And now it's Saturday again. To Acme! Super, wonderful news: When Acme renovated recently, they also made the main space non-smoking! Towne Lounge and Dante's, you're the only holdouts. Get with the program. Sure, Acme's got an open back wall leading to the smoking patio, but it's so much better than it was. So much better. Due to the lingering effects of the Rose Festival Starlight Parade, I got there much later than I intended, and missed Hello Damascus, whom I remember liking once before. Next up was a band that called itself THONG. I was wary. They were actually a lovely, folky, occasionally alt-country six-piece that didn't all fit on the Acme stage. Guitar/male vocals, viola/female vocals (can I have *her* job?), bass/male backing vox, pedal steel, keyboards I couldn't hear, and drums. If the new trend is to sound like Iron and Wine, I'm all for it. Pretty, quiet, with the occasional twang. Stellar harmonies and strings. And occasional trumpet. Last up: Pentecost Hotel. Four-piece (male vox, guitar, drums, bass) that blew me away. Jangly rocky guitars, jagged strained vocals, driving yet playful, I'm hoping they've recorded something and I can find it.
Whew! And now I'm sleepy, from reviewing all these bands and from seeing them play. Until next time.
--OMS
First off, Jamie Lidell, Copy, and...hmmm...someone else, at Holocene. Crap, I hate it when I get so far behind I forget who I saw. I had a good friend visiting me, and I promised to get him out to see a show or two. I remember that the first band was "okay, it's electronica." Copy, too, was electronica. I expected to recognize the song on the PDX Pop Now! compilation, at least, but no. Maybe he didn't play it. But it all kinda sounded alike, long blurry swirling whatever, no vocals, just a guy and his keytar. Jamie Lidell: This man's insane. Sometimes that's fun. A blues-influenced screaming Brit in a satin smoking jacket.
Now, I'm going to attempt to review Sasquatch. I fully expect to fail.
The first day, we saw more weather than music. Thunder, lightning, 45 minutes of hail. People made hailmen. Thankfully, we found an indoor sanctuary and didn't get too wet. When we first got there, the sun was shining, Iron and Wine was playing, god was in his heaven and all was right with the world. It was a long, long drive, and we missed some stuff I wanted to see, including Sufjan Stevens, Rogue Wave, and Architecture in Helsinki. I think I saw Band of Horses and liked them, until the hail chased them off the stage. I ended up buying their CD, and it's pretty damn good. Lovely, fuzzy, intense, sort of on a My Morning Jacket - Arcade Fire axis. Neko Case got hailed out entirely. From then on, the main stage was behind. The Tragically Hip were interesting and totally internally consistent. The Shins were pretty great--much poppier, rockier, and more hyper than I expected, given what I've heard. I should buy some Shins. Then, a long wait. The side stages had long been shut down. And after all that wait, it was announced that Ben Harper would play first, and then the Flaming Lips. Oh, fer crying out loud. Ben Harper's stoner neo-hippie played-out jam band crap never belonged on this bill in the first place, and now I'd have to sit through that to hear the Flaming Lips? And I'm frickin' freezing. Shit. I've got a cozy little cabin waiting for me in Soap Lake, I'm tired, and I just don't have the patience to sit through Ben Harper, even for the Flaming Lips. So we left.
Sunday was so much better. So. Much. Better. After corn dogs in Ephrata, we got there in time to hear most of the Nada Surf set. They really rocked it, reminding me that the dimensions of an artist's music that get emphasized in a recording are often not the aspects that come through best live. Kick ass. We missed Pretty Girls Make Graves, and that's another band I still need to see. We wandered off and saw some okay stuff at the third stage, then some of the Arctic Monkeys set on the main stage. They were fun rock. That is all. Next up: The Decemberists. Strangely, my first intro to them was at Sasquatch in 2004. My review then: "What the fuck is with all the accordion?" Clearly, I've developed a much finer ear for them since. What an amazing show. Colin Meloy just teases the audience, shushing them or drawing them out at will. He's such a performer. It inspired me to buy Her Majesty The Decemberists, the only disc I didn't own. For the record, the friend with me was equally impressed. Strangely, as I spent the drive playing the Decemberists for my friend, ensuring he was adequately prepared for the show, Colin seemed to be listening in. He spent the first half of the show carefully mimicking the playlist from the drive from our cabin. To the 3rd stage for Rocky Votolato. Cute & hip-folky. Over to the second stage for some We Are Scientists (they Rock (tm). 's about it.) A few songs from Matisyahu (I hate reggae, and I'm pretty picky about hiphop...sure, a Hassidic Jew claiming these art forms is novel, but it doesn't make it sound any better), then back to stage 2 for some Damien Jurado. I know the man's a lovely songwriter, but by this time in the weekend, he was barely background music. Sorry, Damien, next time. I promise. A bit of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (cute and energetic, trying to rock hard), Then back to the main stage for DCFC. Though he often speaks to the crowd, Ben Gibbard seemed to almost have taken a page from the Decemberists' playbook in the way he turned the show into a dialogue. And they rock so hard live. Every ballad and sweet pop number develops a driving beat and a vocal attack that make it sound brand new. Finally, Beck. He played his songs. There were puppets of the band playing the songs, projected behind the stage. My friend really didn't know a lot of the music over the weekend, and said some really objective, insightful things. About Beck: "It was like he didn't care that the audience was there." Stupid scientology. We left early. And we did, eventually, find the car, despite my picking it out from a distance, then deciding it wasn't, actually, my car. But I double-checked! And it was.
And now it's Saturday again. To Acme! Super, wonderful news: When Acme renovated recently, they also made the main space non-smoking! Towne Lounge and Dante's, you're the only holdouts. Get with the program. Sure, Acme's got an open back wall leading to the smoking patio, but it's so much better than it was. So much better. Due to the lingering effects of the Rose Festival Starlight Parade, I got there much later than I intended, and missed Hello Damascus, whom I remember liking once before. Next up was a band that called itself THONG. I was wary. They were actually a lovely, folky, occasionally alt-country six-piece that didn't all fit on the Acme stage. Guitar/male vocals, viola/female vocals (can I have *her* job?), bass/male backing vox, pedal steel, keyboards I couldn't hear, and drums. If the new trend is to sound like Iron and Wine, I'm all for it. Pretty, quiet, with the occasional twang. Stellar harmonies and strings. And occasional trumpet. Last up: Pentecost Hotel. Four-piece (male vox, guitar, drums, bass) that blew me away. Jangly rocky guitars, jagged strained vocals, driving yet playful, I'm hoping they've recorded something and I can find it.
Whew! And now I'm sleepy, from reviewing all these bands and from seeing them play. Until next time.
--OMS
Sunday, May 14, 2006
all over the map
It's been quite the weekend, music-wise. And it's barely even sunday.
Friday night, I was ridiculously tired. I went out for dinner because I was too tired to cook. I had a beer with dinner. In the state I was in, that one beer made me a bit loopy. I thought to myself, "I keep hearing about Caves. Maybe I should go see them? I'm sooooo tired. But I could drink coffee, and then I'd be awake enough to listen to bands, right?" Um...sorta. I missed Jonah. I got there in time for the start of Oslo's set. Had they done this sound first, they'd be huge. Giant. Stadium shows, screaming fans, the whole bit. As it is, they were just loud enough to fill a stadium, but in the Doug Fir. They sounded just like one of those Rock Revival bands. The Killers? The Bravery? Whatever. They were certainly good, and had I not been so tired I would have enjoyed them on an entirely superficial level. There are certainly people I think would love them. People I know, even.
Next up: Caves. I'd read a few good reviews, heard the name a number of times, decided it was finally time to seek them out. I'd heard "dark, swirling indie" about them. Sounds lovely. In actuality, it was...uh...okay? But again, I was SO tired. I sat through most of the set thinking, "I wonder if I like this band?" They sure didn't look it, but if I closed my eyes, it had a distinct "goth lite" flavor, like Wish-era Cure. Rockin' out, but doing it darkly. Verdict: If they were to play a show with Swords, I bet I'd love 'em. But I'd love 'em even more if they keyed their volume to the size of the room and the crowd.
Saturday: All sorts of fun at the Doug Fir (again). Started out with Bright Red Paper. Only caught the last song and a half. Despite the dumb name, they're not Adult Alternative but a driving-yet-psychedelic foursome of drums, two guitars, and cello. They may be instrumental--by the time I got a beer and settled in to listen, I hadn't noticed any vocals. Worth checking out again--part pretty-indie, part guitar-wank. I hope, overall, they lean former, not latter.
Next up, Ape Shape. Led by someone-in-the-portland-music-scene, better known as the leader of whatever-band-that-was. I don't remember right this second. A seven-piece! Guitar/male vox, female vox/'80's dance moves, bass, drums, trombone, sax, and trumpet. It was kinda...uh, sorta sounded a little like...well, you know, reminded me...huh...yeah, not quite a...Fine. I'll just come right out and say it. With the horn section, the guitar rhythms, the way the two voices didn't meld well, they sounded rather like a ska band. Honestly, to me, part of Portland's charm is its lack of ska bands. I kept trying to imagine it without the horns, to see if the ska thing was accidental, but I wasn't succeeding. Some songs were less ska-like than others.
Last up, Cloud Cult, from Minneapolis. What I'd read about them was interesting. A (ugh) "sustainable music collective" that didn't have a label, yet had shot up the indie/college charts. "Avant chamber-pop" that had a cello. And two painters. You may remember how I feel about bands that feel the need for extra visual art: What are you compensating for? Is the music not good enough? But also interesting: I remember the cellist from my high school orchestra. Well, they launched into their set, and I was immediately in love. A four-piece (if you don't count the painters, which I don't): Male vocal/guitar/occasional keyboard, 5-string bass, cellist/female backing vocql, and drums/male backing vocal. Then there were two painters and two different projected cycles of found images on stage. They can all go. The music speaks for itself. First impression: Flaming Lips. Later impressions: Is that a Neil Young bit? Huh...this one song sucks, sounds like crappy adult alternative...shit. Except adult alternative doesn't launch into a total rock-out that flattens me. Those harmonies...Crosby, Stills, and Nash? Well, that was fleeting. Now the 5-string bass is churning out hardcore metal. Oooh...pretty! And yet it didn't seem at all disjointed. I'd like to hear more from this band, figure out what they sound like in the studio, integrate some of the disparities. I was impressed.
Finally, this weekend I received a 3-cd mix set of all-'80's nostalgia. And as you turn up your nose and think, "I'd never listen to that crap," I'll list some of the tracks. Not a clinker in the bunch, and all obscure-cool or forgotten or in some way unexpected. The La's - There She Goes. Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians - Flesh #1. The The - This is the Day. The Mighty Lemon Drops, Mojo Nixon, Grandmaster Flash, The Art of Noise, The Cocteau Twins. Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill. Style Council, Jellybean, Stacy frickin' Q, Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam (seriously!), Dead or Alive. Real Life - Send Me an Angel. Alphaville - Big in Japan. Icehouse, Wham!, New Order, Front 242, Meat Beat Manifesto, Ministry, Siouxie and the Banshees. Thank you, Nick Danger, and your slightly-earlier-than-mine, slightly-cooler-than-mine high school existence.
Friday night, I was ridiculously tired. I went out for dinner because I was too tired to cook. I had a beer with dinner. In the state I was in, that one beer made me a bit loopy. I thought to myself, "I keep hearing about Caves. Maybe I should go see them? I'm sooooo tired. But I could drink coffee, and then I'd be awake enough to listen to bands, right?" Um...sorta. I missed Jonah. I got there in time for the start of Oslo's set. Had they done this sound first, they'd be huge. Giant. Stadium shows, screaming fans, the whole bit. As it is, they were just loud enough to fill a stadium, but in the Doug Fir. They sounded just like one of those Rock Revival bands. The Killers? The Bravery? Whatever. They were certainly good, and had I not been so tired I would have enjoyed them on an entirely superficial level. There are certainly people I think would love them. People I know, even.
Next up: Caves. I'd read a few good reviews, heard the name a number of times, decided it was finally time to seek them out. I'd heard "dark, swirling indie" about them. Sounds lovely. In actuality, it was...uh...okay? But again, I was SO tired. I sat through most of the set thinking, "I wonder if I like this band?" They sure didn't look it, but if I closed my eyes, it had a distinct "goth lite" flavor, like Wish-era Cure. Rockin' out, but doing it darkly. Verdict: If they were to play a show with Swords, I bet I'd love 'em. But I'd love 'em even more if they keyed their volume to the size of the room and the crowd.
Saturday: All sorts of fun at the Doug Fir (again). Started out with Bright Red Paper. Only caught the last song and a half. Despite the dumb name, they're not Adult Alternative but a driving-yet-psychedelic foursome of drums, two guitars, and cello. They may be instrumental--by the time I got a beer and settled in to listen, I hadn't noticed any vocals. Worth checking out again--part pretty-indie, part guitar-wank. I hope, overall, they lean former, not latter.
Next up, Ape Shape. Led by someone-in-the-portland-music-scene, better known as the leader of whatever-band-that-was. I don't remember right this second. A seven-piece! Guitar/male vox, female vox/'80's dance moves, bass, drums, trombone, sax, and trumpet. It was kinda...uh, sorta sounded a little like...well, you know, reminded me...huh...yeah, not quite a...Fine. I'll just come right out and say it. With the horn section, the guitar rhythms, the way the two voices didn't meld well, they sounded rather like a ska band. Honestly, to me, part of Portland's charm is its lack of ska bands. I kept trying to imagine it without the horns, to see if the ska thing was accidental, but I wasn't succeeding. Some songs were less ska-like than others.
Last up, Cloud Cult, from Minneapolis. What I'd read about them was interesting. A (ugh) "sustainable music collective" that didn't have a label, yet had shot up the indie/college charts. "Avant chamber-pop" that had a cello. And two painters. You may remember how I feel about bands that feel the need for extra visual art: What are you compensating for? Is the music not good enough? But also interesting: I remember the cellist from my high school orchestra. Well, they launched into their set, and I was immediately in love. A four-piece (if you don't count the painters, which I don't): Male vocal/guitar/occasional keyboard, 5-string bass, cellist/female backing vocql, and drums/male backing vocal. Then there were two painters and two different projected cycles of found images on stage. They can all go. The music speaks for itself. First impression: Flaming Lips. Later impressions: Is that a Neil Young bit? Huh...this one song sucks, sounds like crappy adult alternative...shit. Except adult alternative doesn't launch into a total rock-out that flattens me. Those harmonies...Crosby, Stills, and Nash? Well, that was fleeting. Now the 5-string bass is churning out hardcore metal. Oooh...pretty! And yet it didn't seem at all disjointed. I'd like to hear more from this band, figure out what they sound like in the studio, integrate some of the disparities. I was impressed.
Finally, this weekend I received a 3-cd mix set of all-'80's nostalgia. And as you turn up your nose and think, "I'd never listen to that crap," I'll list some of the tracks. Not a clinker in the bunch, and all obscure-cool or forgotten or in some way unexpected. The La's - There She Goes. Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians - Flesh #1. The The - This is the Day. The Mighty Lemon Drops, Mojo Nixon, Grandmaster Flash, The Art of Noise, The Cocteau Twins. Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill. Style Council, Jellybean, Stacy frickin' Q, Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam (seriously!), Dead or Alive. Real Life - Send Me an Angel. Alphaville - Big in Japan. Icehouse, Wham!, New Order, Front 242, Meat Beat Manifesto, Ministry, Siouxie and the Banshees. Thank you, Nick Danger, and your slightly-earlier-than-mine, slightly-cooler-than-mine high school existence.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
I promised what??!?
Okay, that's right. Never to hide anything from you again. So here goes:
I haven't been to a show in nine days. My name is OMS, and I'm...ready to get the hell out of my apartment.
Tonight was a free Binary Dolls show at Dante's. But first I had to sit through two other bands. First, Super Plus. I have to admit, there's not much I find funnier than women dressed as drag queens. How much more meta-meta-whatever can you get? And I loves me some meta-meta. So the fact that, among the six of them, they could barely play any instruments or sing anything, despite the four microphones, was almost forgivable. Almost...but not quite. Honestly, they sucked, and didn't make up for it with humor or chutzpah like they intended to. The Aerosmith cover was either obscure or so crappy as to be unrecognizable, and the Neil Young cover just sucked. The rest of it was girls without melody or rhythm, or even coherence, but with costumes galore. Lots of knee-high stiletto boots, two (maybe even three) pretty impressive wigs, and three girls who I'm sure read fantasy-romance in their spare time, but like playing dress-up in the band. Next up: The Crosswalks. Keep at it, guys! Good but not great, almost-interesting but not special, all this trio needs is to figure out who their voice is and where they want to put the exciting moments. It's a Band With Potential (BWP). Perky indie-pop guitar, bouncy-yet-tom-heavy drums...you're almost there. Almost.
Binary Dolls. Oh, I love this band. Tonight they ditched the subtlety for outright kickassness.
Every song was zero-to-sixty with nothing in between. Raucous, wild, amazing. Too short. But they totally read their venue and played to it. Mmmmm....love. Love this band.
I haven't been to a show in nine days. My name is OMS, and I'm...ready to get the hell out of my apartment.
Tonight was a free Binary Dolls show at Dante's. But first I had to sit through two other bands. First, Super Plus. I have to admit, there's not much I find funnier than women dressed as drag queens. How much more meta-meta-whatever can you get? And I loves me some meta-meta. So the fact that, among the six of them, they could barely play any instruments or sing anything, despite the four microphones, was almost forgivable. Almost...but not quite. Honestly, they sucked, and didn't make up for it with humor or chutzpah like they intended to. The Aerosmith cover was either obscure or so crappy as to be unrecognizable, and the Neil Young cover just sucked. The rest of it was girls without melody or rhythm, or even coherence, but with costumes galore. Lots of knee-high stiletto boots, two (maybe even three) pretty impressive wigs, and three girls who I'm sure read fantasy-romance in their spare time, but like playing dress-up in the band. Next up: The Crosswalks. Keep at it, guys! Good but not great, almost-interesting but not special, all this trio needs is to figure out who their voice is and where they want to put the exciting moments. It's a Band With Potential (BWP). Perky indie-pop guitar, bouncy-yet-tom-heavy drums...you're almost there. Almost.
Binary Dolls. Oh, I love this band. Tonight they ditched the subtlety for outright kickassness.
Every song was zero-to-sixty with nothing in between. Raucous, wild, amazing. Too short. But they totally read their venue and played to it. Mmmmm....love. Love this band.
Monday, May 01, 2006
confession
Is it weird that I fear posting my reviews here because I'm afraid someone will read them? Let me rephrase that: How weird is it that I'm afraid to post at my own blog? I have this terrible fear that I'll review some band, or I'll relate some conversation, and someone with a basic working knowledge of google will discover it, and will somehow connect it with me. Not me, OMS (tm), but the real, actual me that went to the show, and could be identified by what I was wearing, or where I was standing, or whether I spilled only a little beer on myself, or a lot of beer. So that's the crux of it, really. I'm not so much afraid someone will read my opinion. Even an opinion about the person reading it. I'm afraid of losing my anonymity.
At the risk of giving away state secrets, I've seen several shows recently that I haven't reviewed here. Last weekend I saw Small Sails (barely), Binary Dolls, and Helio Sequence. This weekend I saw, over the course of two shows, Point Juncture WA (twice), Super XX Man, Norfolk & Western, and Alan Singley & Pants Machine.
The short version (in the order listed above): Missed the music so no opinion but stuff-projected-behind-the-stage always makes me wonder what they're covering up; never the same and mathematically improbably always above median--they rocked; where does the invisible bass player stand and why so prog-rock?; always lovely and stellar with vibraphone (twice), pretty and whispered but I imagined there was some interpersonal tension on stage; move further from "pretty and...uh....pretty" toward "shit, they rock!" every time I see them and they had a violin and a viola; and silly, wild, and playful but they've got to have some serious talent to keep it from careening off the stage and crashing in a heap and someone getting hurt.
Whew. Now I feel better. I promise, I'll never hide anything from you again.
At the risk of giving away state secrets, I've seen several shows recently that I haven't reviewed here. Last weekend I saw Small Sails (barely), Binary Dolls, and Helio Sequence. This weekend I saw, over the course of two shows, Point Juncture WA (twice), Super XX Man, Norfolk & Western, and Alan Singley & Pants Machine.
The short version (in the order listed above): Missed the music so no opinion but stuff-projected-behind-the-stage always makes me wonder what they're covering up; never the same and mathematically improbably always above median--they rocked; where does the invisible bass player stand and why so prog-rock?; always lovely and stellar with vibraphone (twice), pretty and whispered but I imagined there was some interpersonal tension on stage; move further from "pretty and...uh....pretty" toward "shit, they rock!" every time I see them and they had a violin and a viola; and silly, wild, and playful but they've got to have some serious talent to keep it from careening off the stage and crashing in a heap and someone getting hurt.
Whew. Now I feel better. I promise, I'll never hide anything from you again.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
A new obsession.
Sunday night at Wonder Ballroom: The Kingdom, Mecca Normal, Viva Voce, and Mates of State (It's this band the title of the post refers to).
I got there nice and early, thanks to local weeklies and even the ad by the local show promoters being just completely wrong. This is not uncommon, and I'm going to have to figure out a better system. So I saw all four sets beginning to end. The Kingdom gets talked up madly by the Portland Mercury, though they point out that one member writes for them. Meh. Pop songs with punk-rock musical conventions underpinning it, without exactly being pop-punk. The guy's got an interesting voice, like if Johnny Rotten had a background as a choirboy. British accent and all...but of course, not British in the least. Silly. All the songs sounded alike, so it got old quickly. Verdict: It'd be okay on a mix tape.
Mecca Normal: I feel like I'd heard this name before, but I'm not sure. They started the theme for the evening (two people, one male, one female, = whole band). They continued the theme for the weekend (More instruments in the song than were being played onstage...Helio Sequence, I'm lookin' at you!). These guys were just weird. He played guitar, she sang, and there was an invisible bass player. I don't like invisible musicians. Her lyrics were excessively detailed confessional prose (sample: "I listened to him stretch the condom...") sung without much rhythm or melody, mostly about people she did or did not sleep with, and occasionally about grocery shopping. Again, all the songs sounded alike. I'll pass.
Viva Voce: Husband and wife team, she played guitar and sang, he played drums and sang. The invisible member played bass. Same one? I couldn't tell. Sometimes it was fun, sometimes it was a little too arena-rock sounding. She had a double-neck guitar that was fun and hilarious, all rock-star-like. Maybe I just need to be more familiar with their stuff, though, since the two songs I have on PDX Pop Now! compilation discs I thought they knocked out of the park.
Last up was Mates of State. I am absolutely in love with this band. I was wary--another husband and wife duo who had a lot of space to fill with only the two of them. He played drums and sang, she played keyboards and sang. I spent a lot of time watching her hands (well, as best as I could from the balcony in an 800-person venue). Were they also using an invisible bass player? I finally decided that she was making all those sounds. Hooray! This was an amazing set. He's a great drummer, with this odd, high-pitched voice I kept confusing with hers. He also played kazoo (sorry...). She absolutely rocked the keyboards. It's completely joyous, major-key synth-pop, like The Postal Service without any of that pesky self-doubt. That sounds annoying. It wasn't. It was beautiful, and I'm in love.
I got there nice and early, thanks to local weeklies and even the ad by the local show promoters being just completely wrong. This is not uncommon, and I'm going to have to figure out a better system. So I saw all four sets beginning to end. The Kingdom gets talked up madly by the Portland Mercury, though they point out that one member writes for them. Meh. Pop songs with punk-rock musical conventions underpinning it, without exactly being pop-punk. The guy's got an interesting voice, like if Johnny Rotten had a background as a choirboy. British accent and all...but of course, not British in the least. Silly. All the songs sounded alike, so it got old quickly. Verdict: It'd be okay on a mix tape.
Mecca Normal: I feel like I'd heard this name before, but I'm not sure. They started the theme for the evening (two people, one male, one female, = whole band). They continued the theme for the weekend (More instruments in the song than were being played onstage...Helio Sequence, I'm lookin' at you!). These guys were just weird. He played guitar, she sang, and there was an invisible bass player. I don't like invisible musicians. Her lyrics were excessively detailed confessional prose (sample: "I listened to him stretch the condom...") sung without much rhythm or melody, mostly about people she did or did not sleep with, and occasionally about grocery shopping. Again, all the songs sounded alike. I'll pass.
Viva Voce: Husband and wife team, she played guitar and sang, he played drums and sang. The invisible member played bass. Same one? I couldn't tell. Sometimes it was fun, sometimes it was a little too arena-rock sounding. She had a double-neck guitar that was fun and hilarious, all rock-star-like. Maybe I just need to be more familiar with their stuff, though, since the two songs I have on PDX Pop Now! compilation discs I thought they knocked out of the park.
Last up was Mates of State. I am absolutely in love with this band. I was wary--another husband and wife duo who had a lot of space to fill with only the two of them. He played drums and sang, she played keyboards and sang. I spent a lot of time watching her hands (well, as best as I could from the balcony in an 800-person venue). Were they also using an invisible bass player? I finally decided that she was making all those sounds. Hooray! This was an amazing set. He's a great drummer, with this odd, high-pitched voice I kept confusing with hers. He also played kazoo (sorry...). She absolutely rocked the keyboards. It's completely joyous, major-key synth-pop, like The Postal Service without any of that pesky self-doubt. That sounds annoying. It wasn't. It was beautiful, and I'm in love.
Friday, April 21, 2006
hooray for multitasking. and long band names.
Wednesday night: At the Doug Fir, a benefit for Bus Project, the young-democrat politician incubator, and supposedly a celebration of congressman Earl Blumenauer's 1/3-of-a-century in public service. Blumenauer was a no-show, but the crowd was hilarious--all sorts of people in suits, the young Bus Project ones standing around head-bobbing, the older ones (including the head of the local teamster's union) drunk and dancing like they were at a wedding. Though there were the requisite bike-messenger bags and flip-flops too, because, of course, this is still Portland. People kept coming by, shaking my hand, and thanking me for coming. There were also people just there for the show, but they (we) were in the minority.
I missed the Retrofits. I was at home celebrating the 10-inning win over the Angels and K-Rod's blown save. I don't know anything about this band, so I wasn't wildly disappointed.
I got there just in time for Please Step Out of the Vehicle. These guys are awesome, and put on a great live show. Bouncy-yet-edgy indierock that's funny and a bit weird. The drummer kept getting up to play flute, and someone else would sit down at the drums. They're in the studio now, I think I've heard, recording their debut, but at another show of theirs I got a handmade CD-R for 2 bucks. I was hoping for another one, but no such luck.
Last up, Alan Singley and Pants Machine. I've seen these guys a few times. He totally played to the drunkening crowd, with shoutouts to some of the local pols, and all sorts of getting the crowd to "woot!" Probably could just as easily be described with the same words I used for PSOTV, but a little more acoustic-strummy and melodic.
I was actually going to bring my business cards with me, but I didn't have any at home. If there are going to be local political movers-'n'-shakers, I'd like to get in a plug for relief nursery funding. But I did end up talking to this guy, a staffer for Blumenauer, who gave me his card. His brother-in-law then joined the conversation, and B-I-L's wife is looking for a job. They live a few blocks from where I work, she's got the qualifications for a job that just opened up at the agency I work for. So I did get some networking done, both with Blumenauer's office and with a possible resume getting sent. Hooray for multitasking!
I missed the Retrofits. I was at home celebrating the 10-inning win over the Angels and K-Rod's blown save. I don't know anything about this band, so I wasn't wildly disappointed.
I got there just in time for Please Step Out of the Vehicle. These guys are awesome, and put on a great live show. Bouncy-yet-edgy indierock that's funny and a bit weird. The drummer kept getting up to play flute, and someone else would sit down at the drums. They're in the studio now, I think I've heard, recording their debut, but at another show of theirs I got a handmade CD-R for 2 bucks. I was hoping for another one, but no such luck.
Last up, Alan Singley and Pants Machine. I've seen these guys a few times. He totally played to the drunkening crowd, with shoutouts to some of the local pols, and all sorts of getting the crowd to "woot!" Probably could just as easily be described with the same words I used for PSOTV, but a little more acoustic-strummy and melodic.
I was actually going to bring my business cards with me, but I didn't have any at home. If there are going to be local political movers-'n'-shakers, I'd like to get in a plug for relief nursery funding. But I did end up talking to this guy, a staffer for Blumenauer, who gave me his card. His brother-in-law then joined the conversation, and B-I-L's wife is looking for a job. They live a few blocks from where I work, she's got the qualifications for a job that just opened up at the agency I work for. So I did get some networking done, both with Blumenauer's office and with a possible resume getting sent. Hooray for multitasking!
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Finally Quasi
Well, we might as well start somewhere, mightn't we? This is reposted from the Batcave (see my links), so if something doesn't make sense, go ahead and ask me about it. It could be some sort of joke. I could just have forgotten to explain myself.
Okay, so last night's show at the wonder ballroom:
Pan Tourismos. I'd heard the name once or twice, knew nothing about them, skipped them to listen to the end of the Twins-f'in &%^kees game. Twins won, and it was so worth it! Sorry, Pan Tourismos.
The Minders: I was looking forward to these guys, I'd heard of them repeatedly and expected to enjoy them. There was nothing wrong with them, but they didn't sound like anything but a bunch of other bands. "What do you do for a living?" "I have Robert Pollard's voice." So they sounded remarkably like Guided by Voices, but sober, and perhaps with a lobotomy (none of the weird, bizarre, fun aspects of GBV). And I spent much of their set thinking, "Oh! This bit reminds me of....oh, crap. Who is that?" Here's the partial list I came up with: Elvis Costello, The Waterboys, The Pixies (I wondered, "did they have to pay Frank Black to use that guitar line?"), every generic '60's garage pop band, and the obligatory nod to the Velvet Underground. The one band these guys didn't sound like were The Minders. There was no there there.
Finally, Quasi: I made it. I finally saw Quasi. And...um...I don't know what to say. It's like the complete opposite of the previous band. I simply can't come up with any rational comparisons, or any descriptions, or any words at all. But you know me, I'll keep talking anyway. I don't even know whether I liked them or not. Janet Weiss of Sleater-Kinney on drums. Imagine her given total free rein...holy hell. I can't imagine how she keeps from putting the drumsticks right through the drum heads. She's all power, and I swear to you, her biceps could rival the Doctor's. She's utterly amazing, and she drove the songs. She's the third voice in S-K, so it was interesting to see her voice get more prominence. Her ex-husband, Sam Coomes, heads another local band, Blues Goblin. He's a f'ing hippie. I hate f'ing hippies. But he plays crazy-ass keyboards, sometimes pounding out stride-piano blues lines with the keyboard set to what I can only imagine is "piano dropped from a great height," sometimes just pounding on the keyboard with his fists. And sometimes you can't tell which is which. At times it was fascinating and engaging, bordering on melodic, at other times it was just about to derail into experimental mess. Frequently I was sure it had derailed, but after a minute or two, Janet's drums would reassert a dominant beat, and hey, it's a song again! Coomes' voice sounds remarkably like Weiss', and the off-kilter harmonies were very fun when they were on (and unintelligible screeching when they weren't). Oh--and there was a bass player. Overall, it was incredibly loud, and powerful, and overwhelming, and interesting. Remind me never to see them in a space smaller than the Wonder Ballroom. I'd just end up a huddled mass on the floor, bleeding from the ears.
Okay, so last night's show at the wonder ballroom:
Pan Tourismos. I'd heard the name once or twice, knew nothing about them, skipped them to listen to the end of the Twins-f'in &%^kees game. Twins won, and it was so worth it! Sorry, Pan Tourismos.
The Minders: I was looking forward to these guys, I'd heard of them repeatedly and expected to enjoy them. There was nothing wrong with them, but they didn't sound like anything but a bunch of other bands. "What do you do for a living?" "I have Robert Pollard's voice." So they sounded remarkably like Guided by Voices, but sober, and perhaps with a lobotomy (none of the weird, bizarre, fun aspects of GBV). And I spent much of their set thinking, "Oh! This bit reminds me of....oh, crap. Who is that?" Here's the partial list I came up with: Elvis Costello, The Waterboys, The Pixies (I wondered, "did they have to pay Frank Black to use that guitar line?"), every generic '60's garage pop band, and the obligatory nod to the Velvet Underground. The one band these guys didn't sound like were The Minders. There was no there there.
Finally, Quasi: I made it. I finally saw Quasi. And...um...I don't know what to say. It's like the complete opposite of the previous band. I simply can't come up with any rational comparisons, or any descriptions, or any words at all. But you know me, I'll keep talking anyway. I don't even know whether I liked them or not. Janet Weiss of Sleater-Kinney on drums. Imagine her given total free rein...holy hell. I can't imagine how she keeps from putting the drumsticks right through the drum heads. She's all power, and I swear to you, her biceps could rival the Doctor's. She's utterly amazing, and she drove the songs. She's the third voice in S-K, so it was interesting to see her voice get more prominence. Her ex-husband, Sam Coomes, heads another local band, Blues Goblin. He's a f'ing hippie. I hate f'ing hippies. But he plays crazy-ass keyboards, sometimes pounding out stride-piano blues lines with the keyboard set to what I can only imagine is "piano dropped from a great height," sometimes just pounding on the keyboard with his fists. And sometimes you can't tell which is which. At times it was fascinating and engaging, bordering on melodic, at other times it was just about to derail into experimental mess. Frequently I was sure it had derailed, but after a minute or two, Janet's drums would reassert a dominant beat, and hey, it's a song again! Coomes' voice sounds remarkably like Weiss', and the off-kilter harmonies were very fun when they were on (and unintelligible screeching when they weren't). Oh--and there was a bass player. Overall, it was incredibly loud, and powerful, and overwhelming, and interesting. Remind me never to see them in a space smaller than the Wonder Ballroom. I'd just end up a huddled mass on the floor, bleeding from the ears.
Crazy, Isn't It?
This blog is in existence not to bring my off-kilter descriptions of bands and live shows to a wider audience, but to find a nice, secluded corner of the web to shelve these opinions, so the people I normally foist this stuff on can move on to more important topics. Like whether Francisco Liriano's going to make it into the starting rotation this year, and what they've had for lunch.
Now, I can't promise I'll stick to music here. Largely because I have no talent for keeping my big mouth shut. Expect to hear about baseball, beer, politics, psychology, good food, Portland, mid-century modernism, video games from my childhood, anime, day trips around the pacific northwest, things that are lime green, and the occasional foray into network television. Topics I promise to leave to the more knowledgeable: Any other sports besides baseball, and...uh oh. Help! Can anyone help me think of some other things I don't have opinions about? You won't hear much about classical music. Or....um...nuclear physics, most of the time. Pop stars, like Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson, are unlikely to get mentioned here. There will be no recipes for french onion soup. And I promise not to engage in lengthy debates about comparitive ornithology or biochemical engineering. For those of you who want less, you'll have to find it somewhere else, I guess. Bring it on, blogosphere. I've got my dukes up, and I'm ready for you.
Now, I can't promise I'll stick to music here. Largely because I have no talent for keeping my big mouth shut. Expect to hear about baseball, beer, politics, psychology, good food, Portland, mid-century modernism, video games from my childhood, anime, day trips around the pacific northwest, things that are lime green, and the occasional foray into network television. Topics I promise to leave to the more knowledgeable: Any other sports besides baseball, and...uh oh. Help! Can anyone help me think of some other things I don't have opinions about? You won't hear much about classical music. Or....um...nuclear physics, most of the time. Pop stars, like Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson, are unlikely to get mentioned here. There will be no recipes for french onion soup. And I promise not to engage in lengthy debates about comparitive ornithology or biochemical engineering. For those of you who want less, you'll have to find it somewhere else, I guess. Bring it on, blogosphere. I've got my dukes up, and I'm ready for you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)