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Glasser + Twin Shadow + YAWN at Lincoln Hall

November 17th, 2010

A nice little coast-to-coast trio of rising indie acts comprised the Lincoln Hall bill on Saturday, November 13th. Chicago’s hotly tipped YAWN opened the curtain with fresh digital clangery from a self-titled debut EP, amping the sting and gleam of guitar jabs more aggressively than ever, shaking the Animal Collective cloud that’s been looming over it since their Wicker Park basement beginnings.

Shaking early tags was the theme of the evening, as NYC’s Twin Shadow, a.k.a., George Lewis Jr., turned his bedroom new-wave gem, Forget,—initially conceived with a drum machine and a heavy heart that wails something eerily Morrissey—into a speed punk and soul live show, gyrating his hips so feverishly in step to his touring drummer’s cymbal crashes that a female in the audience demanded she get to dance on stage with him. She did, complete with awkward “Walk Like an Egyptian” hand signals.

Twin Shadow pushed his James Dean in Bollywood threads a step further, dangling a dog tag about his neck instead of his trademark triple-rabbit foot voodoo chain, taunting a pocket of glam hipsterettes with between song banter like “Do you like muscle cars?” It was all drenched in planned irony as Lewis slung that line into single “Slow,” which has aNSFW porn casting-couch parody video. He grated out its otherwise fragile howl in the chorus (“I don’t wanna, believe, or be, in love”) with a frothing sense of urgency. He hoisted the body of his guitar up to his heart to beam out a glistening solo that otherwise rings hollow on the record.

Photos: Laura M. Gray

Los Angeles-based Glasser, a.k.a. Cameron Mesirow, minus the irony, emerged as closer with a thunderous bass drum of a séance boost to the Joni Mitchell-meets-Bjork soundscapes of her September debut, Ring. She went apocalyptic and tribal, blasting fog over her crew of robed laptop-and-congo drum players. It wafted about the stage with cryptically beautiful opener “Apply.” The fog and the reverb swallowed the line “If the walls were too thin, you would break right in” right up whole.

She lifted the mystique shroud with an endearing a cappella take on an British folk ballad, “Sprig of Thyme,” showcasing the songbird seed that lies at the core of her craft, only because she doesn’t “have that many songs,” she teased. But the meditative way her dance fans responded to her 9-track set, delivered at ritual pace, tells us her future contributions to the ethereal pop canon won’t go unnoticed.

Tags: Glasser, Twin Shadow, YAWN
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The Posies and Brendan Benson at The Bottom Lounge

November 8th, 2010

Early ’90s power-pop nation all but invaded the Bottom Lounge Saturday night despite the fact that co-headliners the Posies were pulling heavily from their seventh LP, Blood/Candy(Rykodisc) in the set list—an album released in this decade. The Posies were cocksure with fists in the air attacking every chord crunch like the sludge of grunge was fixing to swallow their career whole again.

Frontman Ken Stringfellow energetically chased the specter of Seattle hype from his opening deadpan cryptic one liner from the Posies debut album, Failure, with his eyes on the back of the wall. “I’ve spent half my life in this God awful place,” he told us, before leading a mass stage hop into one of several youthful attacks at their Washington upbringing, “Flavor of the Month,” about a time when overnight flannel-clad successes blazed a commercial trail for acts from the region.

Of course the irony is that without the grunge aggression effect, The Posies would’ve never gone on to become the cult fave they are today, and its unlikely that co-founders Stringfellow and Jon Auer with their signature dark and soaring harmonies would be plucked to aid in Big Star reunions and R.E.M. tours.

The only other time Stringfellow decided to sling banter was to tell fans a tale ofBlood/Candy (recorded in Spain) being the band’s finest album to date. Otherwise, the band set itself to leading a pogo-worthy tour through its finest cuts, from the new folksy shades of “So Caroline” to another maturation project in the key-plunker balladry of “Licenses to Hide.” Local songstress Laura Kurtz was called up on stage to fill in for Broken Social Scene’s Lisa Lobsinger’s sweet fills on that tune, with the whole crew cooing along with a set of fans already privy to the words, “When will you stop those adolescent trends?”

It was a tender teaser into fellow early ’90s almost achiever’s set. Brendan Benson, an Evan Dando-ish pinup type far more well known for his sideman work with The Raconteurs, despite his now four-album oeuvre as a heart-on-sleeve, quick-tongued songsmith with a populist ear for melody and a genuine mind for penning tales about failed love.

But like his co-headliners before him—Stringfellow and Auer are rounding out his stage presence throughout their tour together—he’s still chasing respect with some great pop, like The Posies, pulling material heavily from his latest effort (Benson’s is My Old, Familiar Friend). But Benson is also getting some hardcore lady swoons from the doo-wop tinged “Garbage Day,” his curly locks shaking desperately at the part where he aches about sifting through garbage for a thrown-away heart.

The finest moment of the entire evening though was the tieback encore to a time before the early ’90s that spawned all of these kids, a heel-kick rendition of Big Star’s “September Gurls,” coursing through Stringfellow and Auer’s veins no doubt since their late career work with the band before Alex Chilton’s passing, but fronted this time by Benson, a jangly reminder of an ode to the fact that that timeless pop moment is something that power-popsters forever chase—leaving a trail of some very fine tunes.

Tags: Brendan Benson, The Posies
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X Japan at The Riviera Theatre

October 7th, 2010

There was something endearing about seeing Japanese import Toshimitsu Deyama stare down a full house of American fans cross-arming the eponymous ‘X’ symbol he and best friend Yoshiki Hayashi envisioned back in 1978—despite the presence of Teleprompters and use of an ornate set of samples. Considering the band once called it quits in Iron Maiden of the East fashion at the Tokyo Dome in ’97 to hundreds of thousands, just seeing them in the states at all is something of a dream materialized.

The band teased the metal nation with a Lollapalooza appearance this past summer, but now this jaunt, which kicked off in L.A. in late September, is the band’s first proper American tour ever. And if you weren’t there for the tease, X Japan is a master of epic metal on the other side of the world. Toshimitsu screams right up there with the banshee hell ranks of Al Atkins and Bruce Dickinson. Yoshiki is his classically trained pianist and warrior drummer. And together, with the help of a trio of guitarists, X Japan possesses a call-and-response fury infused with operatic mayhem.

Spanning the material from their punk speed thrash youth—they were originally called ‘X’—to the orchestrated spectacle of smoke, strobes and technical scale precision of recent years, not one of its five albums was neglected in the set. Yoshiki commanded a variety show of piano and electric violin interludes, usually dramatically slammed out of place with a dissonant key clobber, as on swan song “Art of Life,” a regularly 29-minute opus, cut down to under 10 to curtain the evening.

Setting aside some of their technological assists utilized by Toshimitsu and Yoshiki, and a good 15 minutes of costume change time, the high points of the concert came in the form of a blast from of their pink fountain hair glory days which found the band members pointing at everyone they could on battle cry “X.” Toshimitsu clenching “You don’t have to hesitate. Get yourself out!”

There were the stock ballads, of course, featuring the house lights shining bright and revealing a peculiar amalgamation of goth and teen Japanese girls hoarding the front of the stage, shedding sing-along tears to “Endless Rain”s “Let me forget all of the hate, all of the sadness,” chorus. Yoshiki took a moment to thank everyone for coming and promised they’ll be back because he has yet to try Chicago-style pizza.

More true to the spirit of its assault on North America, coming after “Art of Life,” the encore was a rock gremlin growl out of both Yoshiki and Toshimitsu, who had both taken time to don ivory capes and coats with giant crosses embroidered on the back—not for a song but a chant. Looking like unholy emperors, they demanded “You. Are. We. Are. X.” chants from the crowd, reminding all of the domination mission ahead.

Tags: X Japan
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St. Pauli Club

September 13th, 2010

A Lincoln Square dive worlds away from the hood’s campy, lederhosen brethren, St. Pauli Bar is a drinking man’s 4 a.m. bar. Inside you’ll find a charmingly depressing slice of the ’70s most oak-drenched ambitions, where old men mutter to themselves between sips of Spaten and ogle those who think it’s strange.

The trick is to welcome that strangeness, as it’s simply one of the many wise wrinkles in this 30-year-old establishment, launched by a surly, yet extremely sweet German-American named Margaret – who still tends the waist-level bar-in-the-round – as a social ode to a native beer she adores, St. Pauli Girl.

There are never more than three beers on tap at a time, Spaten and the namesake St. Pauli usually in permanence, with the third being a crapshoot, whatever Margaret has on hand for the month (all under $4). And first-timers to middle-aged regulars dancing to Neil Diamond rarely leave without a requisite shot of German-brand apple schnapps. Just bring cash, or those old-man sour glances really will get strange.

Tags: St. Pauli Club
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Apart Pizza Co.

September 10th, 2010

Pizza joints are notorious for being less Italian than they claim to be, feebly asserting their authenticity via Italian flags, cardboard cutouts of mustachioed servers and mafioso names. Torsten Reiss, owner of thin-crust pizza trattoria Apart, wouldn’t have it that way. His pizza company, situated in front of the Welles Park promenade, is a piazza-centric, brick-oven spot that takes on an urban-chill vibe, especially when he pipes drum and bass over the stereo.

An Italian-turned-Chicagoan, Reiss worked in finance before cooking up the idea of serving gourmet pies at an affordable price in lickety-split time: eight to 10 minutes for that order bell to ring (delivery’s free too). No slices spin in a heated box or sit on the counter, waiting to be reheated: Crisp personal-size pizzas come fresh from the oven.

But back to those prices: At lunch, a full meal for one costs $4.50, which includes any eight-inch pie and a drink. 14- and 18-inch pizzas range from $11-$18 and an 8-incher outside the lunch special is still only $5.75. And don’t expect mundane toppings. Apart’s signature pies include the Francese, smothered in mozzarella, ham, brie, egg and oregano, with cranberry sauce on the side; and the Capra-Ruccola, layered with handpicked arugula and goat cheese. But the simplest of them all, the saucey Margherita, will tide you over just fine.

There are 30 versions to choose from, along with a number of salads ($5-$8), all created by in-house pizza chef Gregoreo Baur, who tosses dough, arranges ingredients and cooks right in front of you while you wait. The result: New York foldable thin-crust squeezed into hand-held size.

Average cost: $10-$20

Tags: Apart Pizza
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Lloyd Miller & The Heliocentrics: Divergent East/West Skill Sets

September 2nd, 2010

Dr. Lloyd Miller, a musical legend known for his mastery of more than 100 instruments, is quick to hoist his flag in the rock-is-the-devil’s-music camp. Framing his mid-20th Century retreat into Eastern studies around The Beatles, he says, “I told everyone they were horrible. Their tunes were all backwards and stupid. And they were idiots. And they were evil. And everybody hated me for thinking that. So I stopped talking about it and went away and became a hermit.”

And a hermit he remained, throughout most his career. After many successful years playing with jazz veterans like Don Ellis and Eddie Harris in European locales such as Switzerland, Belgium, Sweden, and Germany, Miller moved back to the USA to pursue an education. This journey culminated in his quest for a doctorate in ethnomusicology from the University of Utah.

Winning a grant to study in Tehran, Miller quickly assimilated, even hosting a popular jazz show on Iranian television, in which he went by the name Kurosh Ali Khan. Around that time, Miller gained long-overdue recognition when BBC radio personality Giles Peterson plugged an old copy of Miller’s 1968 meditation in Middle Eastern and Persian sounds, Oriental Jazz. It was a peek through the keyhole into a lifetime of teachings, production work, and progressive, exciting jazz music.

Making up the other half of Miller’s latest collaboration is The Heliocentrics. Following the UK group’s 2009 album with Ethio-jazz legend Mulatu Astatke, it linked up with Miller through its label, Jazzman Records. At first glance, the pairing seems to make sense: The Heliocentrics’ jazz-funk fusion and past collaborative experience with Miller’s free-flowing, virtuosic, Eastern-influenced style. And though the material is solid, the two sides never seem to click.

That’s not to say that The Heliocentrics are bad musicians, or that the record is a total flop. “They learned fast,” Miller says, “but they forgot slowly. In other words, they could pick up stuff and do it. But they couldn’t get rid of years and years of playing funk, punk, hip hop, slop, rock — whatever it was — and come into a new room and close the door. And I don’t know if they ever will.”

Miller expresses disappointment in the collaboration for the self-titled album (released in August on Strut), suggesting that it never moved beyond simple gimmickry. Working with the “cockney garage-band rockers,” however, spawned a number of humorous anecdotes, such as the moment during recording when bassist Jake Ferguson fumbled with a walking bass line for the first time in his life. Miller narrates Ferguson in slacker parody, “‘Oh, man. You scared me with that, man.’” He then asks rhetorically, “That’s the first time? Walking bass is what jazz is all about. That’s all there is.”

Despite Miller’s feeling that he was something of a “cymbal-clapping monkey,” there are plenty of symbiotic, propulsive moments between rock and jazz, as with the opening track “Electricone.” Ferguson helps spearhead the tune with a strong, percussive kick start, leading into the buzz of a clarinet and a minimal wash of woodwinds and piano. Cymbal patterns flutter, as fluently as anything from Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue.

“Salendro” is perhaps the best example of seamless East and West fusion, with its Indonesian pentatonic scaling and agile vibraphone tiptoeing punctuated with a handful of drum kicks. In another well-executed convergence, “Sunda Sunset,” a woodsy sweep is plucked across the strings of the shawm (a Chinese harp), kissed with Miller’s signature clarinet fills like a Himalayan sojourn.

Though Miller’s exasperation and ultimate dissatisfaction threatens to cast a negative pall over the music, the talent of the contributing musicians wins out. Despite what either side thinks, and even though the record doesn’t quite hit all the right notes, Lloyd Miller & The Heliocentrics is a fruitful exercise in eccentric pairing.

Tags: Don Ellis, Lloyd Miller, Miles Davis, The Beatles, The Heliocentrics
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Second Time’s The Charm

June 10th, 2010

Throwing a festival ain’t easy, as these first-timers found out last year. Here’s how they say things will be different in 2010; Photo: Sarah Scott Photography

With over 100 festivals dotting Chicago streets this summer, from ethnic day parties to epic downtown showcases, niches are scarce for enterprising new hosts. Still, last year, a handful of upstarts planted seeds and created original events. Catching up with us here, these fearless folks cover the lessons learned and hurdles jumped in their first year, and explain how this summer’s second effort will help further establish their presence on the festival scene.

Metronome Celebration
June 12-13
Max Wagner, Congress Theater

Not that we don’t think there’s room on the dance floor, but with over 100 festivals this summer, what sets Metronome above the rest of the pack?
We really differentiate ourselves with talent, focusing on specific genres on our stages over the course of two days. You’re not going to find another all-day punk stage at another festival in town. You’re not going to find a Latin pop stage either. Those things appeal to not just fans of fests, but fans of music. I get a feeling that a lot of the festivals on the West Side are just an amalgamation of hipster culture. What’s the difference between Do Division, Wicker Park Fest, Green Music Fest, or any other ones over there? Not a whole lot. Whereas [the Metronome Celebration] stands out kind of like, ‘hey, that’s a stage for me,’ or ‘wow, that’s awesome – punk all day.’

You can plan all you want, but once you’ve built and they come, the circus begins. What were some oddities or hiccups in year one?
The weather was a little crummy. But there’s nothing you can really do about that except cross your fingers for next time. Otherwise, as with any first-time event, you end up overpaying for stuff. Equipments. Staff. Whatever. You come out with a plan, but you don’t really know what you need until you get it done and you see it happen on the day. Or minor stuff like traffic flow, how your neighbors are going to respond. I’ve got some people that love me. And I’ve got some people that think I’m the devil, as a result of last year.

It’s always easier in year two. You’ve got the relationships. Last year we spent a week, almost two, dong the design work, the logos, the aesthetic and how I wanted the event to come together. This year I don’t have to do that. Throw in the new dates, and the new band names and go right ahead. Everything requires less work. When you get into this business you have to take the attitude that ‘if I’m not going to do this for at least 3-5 years, I’m not doing it at all.’

What are the lessons learned? And how is year two going to be different?
We did drop the electronic stage and put in the Latin rock stage. We did a great job of booking that stage last year, but I think with any festival you want to be reflective of the neighborhood. Not just because politically it helps you to actually get the street closed down, but at some point you want to attract the people around you, your neighbors. And because of last year I was able to build relationships with Latin promoters and pulled [the stage] off this year. That’s going to be a huge draw. Alejandro Marcovich [playing the music of Caifanes] are always referred to as the Mexican Nirvana. It’s a big, seminal pop band, considering we get good weather, is going to be an enormous draw for the Latin community. The other big thing is lots more kids and family activities. Houses. Inflatables. The little that we did last year is completely overrun.

Green Music Fest
June 26-27
Tom Neubauer, Big Creek Events

Not that we don’t think there’s room on the dance floor, but with over 100 festivals this summer, what sets the Green Music Fest above the rest of the pack?
The idea is to create a festival that is green leaning…to operate more eco-friendly, from using biodiesel generators on stages to biodegradable serving utensils. We as festival producers of several different events wanted to take steps in that direction. This was kind of our forced learning process for us to create a vehicle to do that, and vendors that we work with to do that. And a lot of the bands we book also align themselves with that movement, as well. Above that, we’re booking great bands, nationally and local. And we want it to be fun and entertaining like any street festival we do.

You can plan all you want, but once you’ve built and they come, the circus begins. What were some oddities or hiccups in year one?
Interesting things that come with new technology, I guess. The bottled water that we utilized – I think it was 360 – it’s a bottled water company based in Chicago and they only utilize recycled materials for the bottles themselves. And it’s a lighter, thinner plastic that’s used. But when it’s hot it can break down. Especially when cases are stacked on top of other cases.

What are the lessons learned? And how is year two going to be different?
People came to the festival last year with the understanding that we were making an effort to be green and more eco-friendly. But I’d say they primarily came because it’s a great festival featuring great bands in a good neighborhood. And negative feedback was slim. But changes we’re doing this year – last year it was more of a hard ticket event. It was inside Eckhart Park. This year we’re moving it onto Chicago Avenue, so it’s a legitimate street festival, that’s much more accessible at a $5 donation versus a $15 ticket. We just want to make it more affordable and more accessible to more people this year. And we did also learn that you need to have somebody stand right there with recycling receptacles to separate everything, so we’re working with the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum who are bringing in teams of high school students to help people understand how to separate.

Windy City Ribs Festival
July 16-18
Hank Zemola, CEO of Chicago Events

Not that we don’t think there’s room on the dance floor, but with over 100 festivals this summer, what sets the Windy City Ribs Festival above the rest of the pack?
Two distinctive things separate this event from most others – a high level of national talent including Cornmeal, Tonic and Sister Hazel. The second part is the championship traveling ribbers. The rib participants for the most part are of national caliber and travel the nation competing for taste and sauce.

You can plan all you want, but once you’ve built and they come, the circus begins. What were some oddities or hiccups in year one?
Ours was silly. We planned the event the same weekend as the Air & Water Show. It is difficult to compete against such an iconic event and it certainly hindered us.

What are the lessons learned? And how is year two going to be different?
Obviously we moved the date and location. We strongly feel the community events work best in areas that have a combined retail presence along with density of residential population.

I AM Fest
August 28
Brian Bender, founder

Not that we don’t think there’s room on the dance floor, but with over 100 festivals this summer, what sets the I AM Fest above the rest of the pack?
I believe that Chicago has a lot to offer culturally to its Chicagoans. I AM Fest is an indoor music festival that will never be canceled due to bad weather and focused solely on the local creative music/arts from its community. All of the talent is of local brew and help host some unknown talent that people may not be familiar with and should know of. This year I AM FEST is releasing a sampler CD to give you a taste of all that’s to come, and we’ll also be hosting a Battle of the Bands that will have 45 bands competing for the first two opening slots for the festival.

You can plan all you want, but once you’ve built and they come, the circus begins. What were some oddities or hiccups in year one?
Location, location, location. You get what you pay for and who you work with. This year we are focusing the festival at the House of Blues. Live Nation is a well-oiled machine when it comes to promoting, advertising and assisting the production day of for the event. Congress Theater was like working with friends, uncles, friends of a friend, who knows a guys (hope you get the point). Live Nation/HOB just offers a true professional environment for the festival to thrive in. We are also focusing on one stage and 10 bands this year. It was a long day for the last festival and we are hoping to make it more to the point with one stage and showcasing fewer bands with a greater impact.

What are the lessons learned? And how is year two going to be different?
It is never easy. It is never the same as last year and it can only get better. Having it as a sophomore year for I AM Fest at Chicago’s Music University of festivals, you live and learn and thrive on your accomplishments and make sure not to repeat mistakes (at least not on purpose). Prepping far in advance and working with great bands and artists helps. And of course, the new location and a new sampler CD. We’re looking forward to a successful event not only this year, but years to come.

Lincoln Park Arts & Music Festival
July 31-August 1
Karyn Serota, media & marketing director, Chicago Events

Not that we don’t think there’s room on the dance floor, but with over 100 festivals this summer, what sets the Lincoln Park Arts & Music Festival above the rest of the pack?
This year the fest is introducing a juried fine art and craft area, juried by some of Chicago’s leading art experts [and] close to 100 exhibitors. Along with the art, there will be national musical acts including the Pat McGee Band and Buckwheat Zydeco. And the Lincoln Park address, tucked in on Racine from Fullerton to Webster, attracts both families and young adults living in the area as well as in the surrounding areas as it is close to public transportation.

You can plan all you want, but once you’ve built and they come, the circus begins. What were some oddities or hiccups in year one?
No big hiccups in year one. The event was supported by a million dollars in media value as well as the full support of local business and community leaders. We feel that, with the addition of fine art and crafts, as well as some stronger national musical performances, the event will grow in popularity.

What are the lessons learned? And how is year two going to be different?
The fine art component, as previously mentioned, and pumped up music which will hopefully make the event unique and prosperous. We also have the support of two local radio and television stations, and a newspaper – all which will help gain the attention this event deserves.

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Chicago Blues Festival Picks

June 7th, 2010

The 2010 edition of the world’s largest free blues festival keeps things close to home; Photo: Redferns via NBC Chicago

Despite the absence of marquee names like Keith Richards and Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings – both of whom have graced its stages in years past – and budget cuts that have slimmed the event down from four days to three, the Chicago Blues Festival(June 11-13 in Grant Park) is still the largest of its kind in the world. And it’s still absolutely free.

It’s worth noting that the city did splurge on an iPhone app this year, which features a fun “encore flame” to hoist in the air when all the returning-to-their-roots Chicago bluesmen finish up their sets. The roster again runs deep with talent this year, with a tribute to the legendary Chester “Howlin’ Wolf” Burnett the thread that ties it all together (he would’ve turned 100 this weekend). So charge up your phone and head down to these highlighted performances, especially the homegrown ones.

Friday

Jimmy Dawkins w/ Taildragger
3 p.m. Friday; Front Porch
One of the last holdovers from the West Side funk explosion, Mississippi transplant Jimmy Dawkins inspired a young Bob Koester (the founder of Delmark Records) to release his 1969 debut, Fast Fingers, a tie-back to the nickname he earned scrapping it for a good decade after he rode the rails to Chicago. Dawkins’ W.C. Handy Award-winning guitar skills, when paired with the grimy, dive-bar scratch of fellow transplant vocalist James Yancy “Taildragger” Jones, should make for an interesting balance of ache and slash.

Howlin’ Wolf alumni feat. Eddie Shaw & The Wolf Gang w/ special guests
5 p.m. Friday; Petrillo Music Shell
No one taps the energy of the late, great Howlin’ Wolf like his longtime bandleader, Eddie Shaw. The pocket skills he mastered with The Wolf Gang allowed for Wolf’s seedy, wild soul to set underground blues aflame. An arsenal of special guests, from all-star session drummer Sam Lay to harpist Corky Siegal will be in tow to channel the icon proper.

Big George Brock & The House Rockers w/ George Brock Jr.
6:30 p.m. Friday; Front Porch
This 77-year old gem’s style is an entirely rare breed, and not just because of his salmon three-piece suits and leopard-skin capes. Brock grew up in the cotton fields of Clarksdale, Mississippi, and was hardened in local boxing rings, while building friendships with everyone from Muddy Waters to Howlin’ Wolf. He eventually settled in St. Louis, with string skills learned from Waters and an affinity for achy harp solos. Although Brock has mostly flown under the radar over the years, his marriage of front-porch swagger and knee-weak soul lofts have seen a comeback of late. Look for minimalist, searing tales like “Poor Boy” or harrowing harp flutters like “Rockin’ Chair.”

Saturday

David Honeyboy Edwards
2 p.m. Saturday; Mississippi Juke Joint
An acoustic legend, this 93-year-old guitarist is one of the last living links to Delta pioneer Robert Johnson, the man who wrote “Sweet Home Chicago.” Aside from Pinetop Perkins, Edwards is arguably the last Delta blues musician alive. Armed with the catchphrase, “the world don’t owe me nothing,” and hands that are still nimble as ever, he’s the authoritative grandfather voice of the journey from Delta freight train to Chicago blues boom.

Rev. K.M. Williams & The Amazing Trainreck
3 p.m. Saturday; Zone Perfect All-Nutrition Bars Route 66 Roadhouse
An actual ordained minister, Rev. K.M. Williams one-ups Johnny Cash with closer-to-God tales, albeit using a boogie, steel-lap approach. A lot of it is reserved, Williams not one to let loose with his vocals – but when he does, watch out for harrowing “Yea Lordy” heel stomps, gospel wails and ominous tales from his breakout album, Here Comes The Preacher Man.

Chicago Blues – A Living History feat. Billy Boy Arnold, Billy Branch, John Primer, Lurrie Bell and special guest Carlos Johnson
7:35 p.m. Saturday; Petrillo Music Shell
In tandem with a double-disc album of the same name, Chicago blues supergroup A Living History combines the powers of 10 all-stars, young and old, from harpist Mathew Skoller to the muscular punch of guitarist John Primer, from Kenny “beady-eyes” Smith on drums to guest guitarist Carlos Johnson. It’s a veritable blues family, joined to honor and document the evolution of the genre. Think The Traveling Wilburys, but with a purpose, which likely includes paying continuous homage to Howlin’ Wolf.

Sunday

Quintus McCormick
noon Sunday; Gibson Guitar Crossroads
Guitarist McCormick has a Mississippi-Delta heart and a British sense of humor, and has been known to rock Robert Plant-wailing covers of “Stairway to Heaven” when not indulging his love for classy R&B.; A regular at Kingston Mines, he’s known his his ability to control a crowd (while also suppressing the shyness that kept him as a sideman for years, until Buddy Guy and friends put the pressure on him to start his own band).

Guitar Shorty
4:45 p.m. Sunday; Front Porch
The grittiest Chicago bluesman that isn’t from Chicago, Texas-based Guitar Shorty mastered the hard-nosed modern electric sound that has stocked Buddy Guy’s Legends for the past two decades – before the club, and arguably before Buddy. He just happened to be down in Florida or New Orleans, and didn’t cut records until the early ’80s on Black Top. The accolades have been streaming in ever since (from W.C. Handy Awards to Billboard chart-topping hits) for his glistening solos, monster guitar fingers and, when he was a bit younger – he’s over 70 now – wily stage antics from back flips to headstands. Judging by the aggression on this year’s Bare Knuckle (on Alligator Records), there’s still plenty of fire there.

East of the Edens Soul Express
5:30 p.m. Friday, 6:15 p.m. Saturday, 5 p.m. Sunday; Zone Perfect All-Nutrition Bars Route 66 Roadhouse
Best known for their Saturday-night residencies at the Hideout, these DJs/Rabbit Factory Records owners have an intense retro love for Southern soul and blues circa ’60s and ’70s Chicago, but make sure to mix it up with contemporaries like Common in the interest of putting bodies on the dance floor (or in this case, makeshift roadhouse). A broad range of influences, from Issac Hayes to The Band to Muddy Waters, will melt inhibitions into one hot, sweaty golden mess.

T.K. Soul
8:30 p.m. Sunday; Petrillo Music Shell
The self-titled “Bad Boy of Southern Soul” closes the curtains on the 27th Annual Chicago Blues Festival. He’s a bit placid on recordings, with Casio-grade keys punching along his zydeco-tinged Louisiana sass – funny because that’s how he got his start, playing keys for other bands. Soul is a fine R&B; songsmith, though, and has recently made his debut on the mic, showcasing a sultry, Stevie Wonder croon he should have busted out in the first place, with quintessential swoon lyrics like “I’ve got to go to rehab, baby, just to get over you.”

Check out the full schedule.

Tags: Chicago Blues Festival
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Contributing Writer

May 25th, 2010

Framed around the ethos, ‘Signs of Life in Music, Film and Culture’, I started contributing to Paste when it was a bi-monthly in the early-aughts, still including a CD-sampler. Live reportage via festivals was my bread and butter, as a one-man journo-photog combo package, contextualizing chaotic cultural events into new-journalism think pieces spread out over Chicago, NYC and Austin, though I did some band profiles, record reviews and feature pieces, as well.

Highlights:

SXSW 2010

‘Moose!‘ (Day I), ‘Shamrock‘ (Day II), ‘East Meets West‘ (Day III), ‘Friendship Bracelets‘ (Day IV).

Antony & The Johnsons

The shaky-vibrato baroque popster collaborates with the Brooklyn Philharmonic for a one-off baptismal exploration of sound.

Lollapalooza 2009

‘Crooked Rain‘ (Day I), ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog‘ (Day II), ‘Been Caught Stealing‘ (Day III)

Pit Er Pat’s ‘High Time’

Spacious new dispatches from far-out Chicago trio.

SXSW 2009

‘Nerds and Noise Ordinances’ (Day I), ‘Where’s That Confounded Bridge?’ (Day II), ’Lost in Texas’ (Day III), ‘The Hipsters are Coming’ (Day IV).

Nina Nastasia and Jim White

One of indie-rock’s most sought after drummers pairs up with a neo-Laurel Canyon songbird.

Pitchfork 2009

‘There Will Be No Encore’ (Day I), ‘We Miss Being Ruffians’ (Day II), ‘Do You Realize??‘ (Day III)

Chicago Noise Machine

A collective of Chicago local bands unite to create a talent-core exposure incubator.

Pitchfork 2008

‘Looking Back on ‘Don’t Look Back’ (Day I), ‘Evolution of Hip’ (Day II), ‘Lights & Music‘ (Day III)

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Staff Writer

May 24th, 2010

Brooklyn’s pre-hipster zine-cum-proper quarterly and online publication covering emergent artists on the brink of popping into larger culture landscapes, I landed at Sentimentalist when living in Williamsburg, looking for passion projects on downtime while at Rolling Stone.

News, album reviews, feature stories and interviews took up the brunt of my workload, pitching artists that were criminally being ignored by other publications, while live coverage and press conference assignments landed on my plate, as well, serving Sentimentalist’s desire to eventually grow beyond the indie darling subset.

Highlights:

Lollapalooza 2011

‘Perry Ferrel’s Alt-Circus kicks off year 20‘ (Day I), ‘The Kids Were Not Alright‘ (Day II), ‘Foo-real Nostalgia‘ (Day III)

Matt Costa’s Next Steps

A piece of Matt Costa literally had to perish in order for the folk popster we all know today to take shape.

Pitchfork Music Festival 2007

Dan Deacon choreographs a dance party, Girl Talk incite fire marshall wrath, the Klaxons destroy gear in the storied lineage of punk, more, in Chicago’s Union Park.

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The Morel of the Season

May 11th, 2010

The elusive morel mushroom season is upon us—sprouting on menus in spades. We profile five chefs cutting ’em up for the masses.

Smoky. Nutty. Hints of cream. These are just some of the alluring flavors that characterize the morel mushroom, a staple of spring menus across the city. The honeycomb-shaped delicacies start popping up mid-April in golden hues, darkening to a bark-brown peak in May before they bid palates goodbye mid-June, making the hunt just as fun as the feast. Here’s how some Chicago kitchens are celebrating the short-lived season.

Green Zebra

The executive chef of this white-tablecloth vegetarian temple, Molly Harrison, is a mushroom fanatic with a secondary soft spot for asparagus. She shows that love by pureeing white spears, stuffing them into into a farm egg raviolo and topping things off with sautéed, salt-kissed morels to bring out “a nice woodsy component to go with the sweetness.” Sprinkled strips of sorrel help the dish ($12) finish with a little citrus zin.

Chilam Balam Cocina Mexicana

Twenty-three year-old former Rick Bayless protege, Chuy Valencia, is a fan of “big chunks in his food” over at his new farm-to-table Spanish spot in Lakeview. He’s digging the versatility of the morel, both grilling and braising pinky-size caps to single-chop and toss with a malty Michoacan pasilla sauce and pop in corn masa gordita pockets ($9.95). Expect a smoky taste-bud party until the bed of parsnip and red onion farmer’s slaw cools things down.

Anteprima

Chef Carlos Ysaguirre takes more of a minimalist route at this Andersonville spot, putting quarter-bunches of morels in company with their royal trumpet and hen of the woods brethren, letting them “speak for themselves” in his wild mushroom cartoccio ($10). It’s all baked in a parchment pouch with a little olive oil, knob onions and white wine, then cut tableside and served with a sage leaf and sprig of thyme for texture.

Gage

Chef Dirk Flanigan’s traditional salt, butter and pepper treatment starts with thumb-size (“unless you’re Michael Jordan”) ‘shrooms with a texture that makes you “feel like you’re doing something wrong” when you bite into them. The chef then adds in a poached Swan Creek duck egg, toothsome Nichols Farm peas and chunks of aged L’Amuse gouda to round it out with a caramel sweet-salt balance ($13).

Nightwood

Down in Pilsen at Lula Cafe’s sister spot, Jason Vincent and crew are playing with a “mix-and-match puzzle” of sorts, concentrating on a morel ragu that took an entire day and two pounds of ‘shrooms to break down into a traditional veal-stock demi-glace, thickened with a little green garlic and red wine. One night, you might catch it in an interesting warm form, blanketing strips of veal tenderloin in a garlic aioli and mustard green-dressed carpaccio ($12), whereas “tomorrow, who knows where it’s going to go,” teases Jason of the restaurant’s daily changing menu.

Tags: Morels, Mushrooms
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Unofficial SXSW ’10: Friendship Bracelets

March 20th, 2010

You know you’re in the right unofficial company when a girl opens a suitcase full of handmade treasures full of demo tapes and friendship bracelets handwritten by the band about to hit the stage. Her pick for me – Foresty vaginas are not my favorite. Whether or not it’s a fit, I’ll keep a secret. But it speaks volumes about the energy brought outside of the badge realm, felt from pizza parlors to bridges on Friday, that even Bill Murray was hip to be square about.

Always the best part of these parties, as with the 21st Street Co-Op’s South By South Mess I hit, is the local talent owning the show. Austin’s Ume brought some of the most sultry garage pop since the Yeah Yeah Yeahs crowned Brooklyn king of the pulse, lead singer Lauren Larson bashing the guitar on her knees for kicks. A girl elbowed her way to the front of the crowd at one point bestowing a potted plant. I’d like to hope she was trying to give it some growth.
But that Co-Op, let’s not forget that space. Despite it’s frathouse, riddled bong and beer can abuse, and fire hazard death trap of a one-windowed concert hall, it served one fine tree-house maze of creative seekers, billing an Andrew W.K. capped evening, stocked with Broken Social Scene protégés, Still Life Still, and fellow Austinites, Zorch, who were bent on reinventing Dance Dance, Revolution with aggressive synth numbers and mics halfway into their mouths. Residents assured me that they split the chores equally, though.

Earlier in the day, seeking the same vibe, word on the street was that another local fav, The Octopus Project, were setting up to unveil a three-month in the making project called Hexadecagon on the roof of a Whole Foods, of all places. I knew it wasn’t going to have the same unruly panache as some of the house parties their known for, and I did wind up waiting an hour to get not onto a roof, but a tent in the parking lot of the store. But the Flaming Lips-type, 8-channel speaker and video sensory overload they put together was worth it. It was this vast electro-pop landscape whipping around 360 degrees in visual tune to everything from hooded spacesuit blondes in the woods, to button montages. If there’s such a thing as a happiness seizure, be prepared to have one if they take it on tour.

Rewinding again, the South Congress pizza parlor, Home Slice, didn’t hit home with the local plugs, but needs a mention for billing Baltimore’s Wye Oak, who previewed new dream pop aggressions from their latest EP on Merge, getting squall and nightmarish with “I hope you die” refrains. Charming stuff with the amount of families from the hood poking in for some free fun, especially with a side-stage act called Dominique Young Unique, spitting filthy rhymes packed with N-bombs and Missy Elliott innuendos. Mothers were covering their kids ears. There were a few diehards getting their shimmy on in the front, though, too.

The best free jewel of Friday came with the annual exodus over to the Lamar Street Bridge, where a handful of SXSW’s most prolific acts – some playing their 10th show of the day – plugged into the pedestrian walkway’s outlets and blasted guerrilla rock free-for-alls. Catching two bands before the cops shut down operations for the first time in three years, and Bill Murray created a circus of gawkers – the dude just wanted to jam, people – a misfit marching band from Grapevine, Texas called Mt. Righteous threw a punk pep rally that would warm the cockles of any black-hearted hipster, ironically cut short during a song called “Turn Down That Racket,” by a cop using the band’s megaphone to clear people out. If only I snagged a choice friendship bracelet from the Co-Op for him.

Tags: Bill Murray, Dominique Young Unique, Mt. Righteous, Still Life Still, The Octopus Project, Ume, Wye Oak, Zorch
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Unofficial SXSW ’10: East Meets West

March 19th, 2010

Not that the charm of the East Side of downtown Austin is gone, with Mrs. Bea’s, the quaint little Hispanic dive bar selling-out to some new diggs by the name of Cheer-Up Charlie’s. Gentrification is a business, after all. But as the epicenter of the underground/unofficial SXSW movement, an artist’s lounge isn’t the best fit.

Add to that an influx of tents and preview shows that used to be downtown proper, as with the Japanese rockness caught at the Typewriter Museum (see drunk guitarist sleepy town in an alley below), and a mass exodus over to the French Legation Museum’s lawn party with the hype-tastic shoe gazers, The XX, headlining, and you can forget Highway 35 even separates the badged from the badgeless, Why even cross? The museum’s lawn was something out of Eden for music heads, bursting with flowers and true green lawn, allowing BYOBers and such.

That said, I did skip out and cross the highway for some great free things going on downtown. Showed up a hair too late to see the Egg Men Beatles cover band reinterpret fab four hits on a ukulele. But had plenty of spare minutes to jump over to Hoek’s Death Metal Pizza, where Brooklyn Vegan helped stock their dorm room-sized patio with thrash after thrash of metalheads, the crown going to Denver’s Speed Wolf, a Pantagram one-off punched with moments of pop sludge and a yelp or two. Great to eat a slice to.

This was all after loitering around South of downtown (SoCo; South Congress) at the annual Schuba’s (top-notch Chicago venue) take-over of the Yard Dog, where the Born Ruffians and Freelance Whales seared in a hot Austin backyard many moments of noodle and hand-clap pop cheer, the ’Ruffians inciting a shouting match with “I Need a Life,” an elbow-to-elbowed crowd spitting back the chorus – “Oh but we go out at night.”

That everybody did, of course, as this bumble of a music city goes. Best thing I saw come nightfall was back at Cheer Up Charlie’s, where a dude I’ll call Captain Gay, mostly because of his leather chaps, sailor hat and the repeated announcement of how much he loves Jewish men, strutted through a set of severely entertaining skuzzy west coast rockabilly. His real name? Hunx. With his backup doo-wop band (all ladies) referred to as Punx. They got by on a lot of gimmick, but a single called “Cruisin’” from their forthcoming LP, had straight dudes taking off their shirts; a genuine little beach pop nugget you’ll probably hear more of.

Tags: Born Ruffians, Freelance Whales, Hunx and his Punx, Speed Wolf, The XX
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Unofficial SXSW ’10: Shamrock

March 18th, 2010

Ain’t nothing sham about another year in free rock unofficially exploding all over Austin again this year, where there’s a willing badgeless soul there’s a way to pop into everything from the best in budding Belfast rockers (aptly timed with St. Paddy’s day) to 8-bit Nintendo pop in a bowling alley fit for Lebowski royalty. Sure, 8BK-ok demanded a certain twee pedigree and a likeness for covers of “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” and ASIWFA provided a few too many Belfast answers to post-rockers Explosions In The Sky, but all they asked for was attention, and teased it with free drinks.

The internet is here to make it all increasingly easy to navigate this stuff, and Todd P, the infamous concert promoter from NYC is back publishing impromptu zines called Showpaper, listing house party galore and all of his own gatherings at Cheer Up Charlie‘s (formerly Ms. Bea‘s). So with a little word of mouth gusto and a proactive RSVP nature, it was easy poking around for a new favorite band, which honor goes to local upstarts White Dress, earning stars both with their Velvet Underground-tinged garage-scrap aggression and their “South By Sour West” sign they propped in a tree from the backyard in which they protested their exclusion from SXSW proper.

Otherwise, L.A.’s Warpaint broodingly tore up one of many downtown appearances I was grateful to be in attendance for, proving their full-moon glow in the blogosphere the real deal with a lofty run through “Elephant,” and a quartet of dudes in black called Jesus Makes The Shotgun Sound from somewhere in California (they wouldn’t say where) drew some curiosity with stab-a-hole-in-your-amp crunchy goth rock on a book store patio, the best part happening when a neighbor brought his two little girl twins to eat Twizzlers and watch their first live show.

Tags: 8BK-ok, Jesus Makes The Shotgun Sound, Warpaint, White Dress
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Bread Machines

March 17th, 2010

Artisanal bread bakeries are still rare in this town, so these independent bakers are taking matters into their own hands.

Ellen Carney Granda of Necessity Baking Co.
Granda loves the fact that she’s “not educated” in artisan bread making, and the baker uses her newbie status to justify her unheard-of flavors. (Case in point: her half-focaccia, half-ciabatta “faux-cacia” with candied lemon, sweet balsamic vinegar and rosemary.) Even though she’s just getting started, Granda’s on board with the idea of artisan purity. “The U.S. is probably the last country that lets [the chemical compound] bromate be added to bread. And in the right amount, it helps the bread rise. But if it’s not baked off, it can be a carcinogen,” she says. That’s why you’ll find only unbleached, unbromated flour in all her breads, from boules to challah.

GET IT Born last June at Highland Park’s Ravinia Farmers Market, Necessity Baking Co. grew quickly, filling baskets shortly thereafter at Deerfield’s Market, followed by Lake Bluff and a permanent stand in the Chicago French Market (131 N Clinton St). She charges a little bit more than the industry standard (roughly $8 for a pound-and-a-half loaf), but, she says, “you’re paying for the human resource and the beauty of that human interaction with a product.” To that end, Granda is often stationed at her store, ready to show you the burns on her arms should you question her cred.

Anne Kostroski of Crumb
As experimental as Kostroski gets with her boules (a recent batch involved sparkling grape juice and apples), she insists it is nevertheless simple stuff. “You take water, flour, yeast and salt and work with the ratios of water to flour. That’s how you make a good loaf of bread.” Honing her craft at Napa Valley’s Culinary Institute of America, Kostroski stresses her independence from chemicals and dough conditioners, instead letting her ingredients do the work. In addition to tame items like walnuts and olives, her bread ingredients also include items such as those in her “stockyard” batch: Vienna Beef hot dogs, onions, tomatoes, sport peppers, poppy seed and celery salt. With flavors like that, the only other thing she has to lean on for her bread is her set of earthenware clay pots, which help her achieve a perfect crust.

GET IT Kostroski usually sells out of bread about halfway through the Empty Bottle Farmers’ Market (1035 N Western Ave; dates and times vary), and Logan Square’s weekly Sunday market in the lobby of the Congress Theatre (Sundays, 10am–2pm, 2135 N Milwaukee Ave). But if you miss them, you can get her boules ($5 for a small one; $7 for the larger) via delivery service, offered through her website, crumbchicago.com.

Vincent Colombet of Cook Au Vin
Paris native Colombet pseudo-teases that he started baking bread because “there was no decent bread in Chicago.” Whether that’s true or not, the payoff for us are his earthy boules, which are made from his Alsatian grandmother’s recipe and which he claims need only a “great plate of cheese and a vintage cab” to make a meal. With his petite French grocery and cooking-class hub Cook Au Vin off the ground in Bucktown, Colombet has been able to concentrate on mastering his “very labor-intensive dough.” Yet with all the bread making he’s doing, he’s still keeping things simple. His flavor experiments extend to a little cereal, parmigiano cheese or dried fruit every now and then—but that’s where it ends.

GET IT Colombet has been popping up at the Logan Square Farmers Market to test out his old-world breads. Meanwhile, his flagship store (2256 N Elston Ave) is selling those boules for $4–$5 a loaf. Come summer, he’s moving some ovens over to a new Logan Square storefront (2569 N Milwaukee Ave) with a full boulangerie and a home-delivery service called Bread-Fix.

Michelle Garcia of Bleeding Heart Bakery
Michelle Garcia is known for her charity cupcakes and Take-A-Hike scones. Now she’s started a bread co-op, putting out a weekly, rotating cast of pound-and-a-quarter boules like Irish soda bread that are priced to simply cover the costs of ingredients. “People are more emotional about bread,” says Garcia. Maybe. But we have to imagine people are more emotional when they don’t have bread, and that could be a problem, because Garcia is baking her breads in batches of no more than 50.

GET IT Garcia has two storefronts, one in Roscoe Village (1955 W Belmont Ave) and one in Oak Park (1010 North Blvd). Both serve as pick-up locations for the $5-a-loaf breads, which are ordered on Friday and picked up on Sundays. Soon she and her husband plan to bring the whole operation to an impending 6,000-square-foot flagship space somewhere in Ukrainian Village, complete with a rooftop garden and another USDA organic stamp.

Tags: Bleeding Heart Bakery, Cook Au Vin, Crumb, Necessity Baking Co.
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Unofficial SXSW ’10: Moose!

March 13th, 2010

Twee punk import from Japan, Uzuhi, at Austin’s Loyal Order of the Moose outpost during SXSW; Photos: Gavin Paul

Warehouses, alleys, bridges, co-ops, roller rinks, there’s not a structure that isn’t a venue when you start to talk about unofficial SXSW happenings. After exhausting one last house party as far East as I could get from downtown, about facing back into the heart to catch Best Coast get the last of nine of their beach rock chill sets on in a wine bar, all any local would hype up to hunt was Austin’s Moose Lodge, where over 65 bands from around the world made the Loyal Order of The Moose proud.

Just one year deep in booking shows, the national family fraternal organization was like a 60s bungalow basement time capsule, splayed with free pancakes until they ran out and three separate stages mouse-trapping off one another when, say, a Japanese punk band reminded you to wear your “sweet lovely chocolate smile.”

I caught a handful of great bands in my time at the Moose lodge – the gypsy folk of Austin’s Agent Ribbons, creeping under the shadow of the lodge’s namesake bust; Brooklyn’s Cerebral Ballzy reminding kids how important punk rock and skating are with a little foam on their mouths – but Uzuhi, those wily music hearts from Japan stole the florescent glow.

Stumbling Syd Viciously about the band’s opening guitar lick, with a pull from his metal-studded belt, ringleader Vo: Gosha tricked a crowd into thinking he was going to get off on rage. But over the course of the next 30 minutes, the band morphed into a circus act of snarky Engrish, pop balladry that ended with every body holding each other’s hands, kick-lining to horn sections and parlor keys. Makes sense that Uzuhi means “the sun” in Japanese.

I wouldn’t suggest rushing to the intranets to pick up their record, but for a Moose hunt, it was an entertaining find. And is one more fine showing of the free treasures found without a badge.

Otherwise, as the rest of the day shaped up to be a bust, with Austin being unseasonably cold, schedule times askew and one case of trickery at a club by the University called Club 1808 that advertised a free peek at San Francisco’s lo-fi fuzz rockers, The Mantles, only to surround me with hands when I started snapping photos because I didn’t have credentials, Best Coast, from the basement of a wine bar deserves a best-of-the-end tag, turning smile after smile with hazy sun, tambourine-punched lo-fi fun, capping the theme of the route – the best things during SXSW are free.

Tags: Agent Ribbons, Best Coast, Cerebral Ballzy, The Mantles, Uzuhi
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The Revolution Will Be Brewed

February 19th, 2010

Uncovering the evolution of Josh Deth’s Revolution Brewing in Logan Square.

Josh Deth doesn’t necessarily want to change the world. He’d probably be happy if his new brewpub, Revolution, can make an impact on Logan Square. Three years in the making, the operation is finally underway, and the community-minded Deth – a former Goose Island employee, current Handlebar Bar & Grill owner and UIC Urban Planning alum – shares how he raised the fist.

Can you explain the evolution of the name Revolution?

It means a lot of different things to different people, which is why we chose it. It’s a tribute to the nature of Chicago and activism, social unrest and organizing, like the lager beer riots that happened because of bars being closed on Sundays. It’s also a tribute to what’s going on in craft beer; revolution-wise, [the industry has had] nothing short of that over the last 20 years in terms of changing what has been available. Also, here, as a brewpub, it’s a place you can visit, a community center place.

Has anybody compared the likeness of your emblem to Hunter S. Thompson’s gonzo fist?

They haven’t, no (laughs). More dildo-based references. We’re also lefties, so it’s a leftist fist.

What about the brews – who gets credits on those?

Jim Cibak [the brewmaster] and I worked together at the Fulton Street [Goose Island] brewery. He was a brewer, I was a cellarman. We worked together, on almost all the recipes, brewing everything a couple times. The golden ale, we brewed four times to get it right. It’s such a light beer, there’s not a lot of room for error. We wanted it to be really balanced. But the recipes are becoming more and more part of [Jim’s] job. I still poke my head in and say, “I want to brew a couple of these,” and he says, “great.” We get along real well.

And how do they tie into the revolution?

Well, there’s a porter on right now called Eugene, which is named after Eugene V. Debs, who was involved with the Pullman railroad strike around the turn of the century. I’m kind of a historian. The Workingman is a mild, luncheon beer you can have a couple of and it won’t blow you down. And the Anti-Hero, my kid’s a Star Wars fan. But all of our beers aren’t the most extreme beers in the world, like Dogfish or Three Floyds. The number-one intent is for them to be balanced, tasty, drinkable beers that go well with the food. I really think we accomplished that.

That’s cool that Jason Petrie was brought on from your first restaurant, Handlebar. How is that side of the accomplishment going?

Yeah, he’s had the strongest role in developing the menu. I kind of set the direction as a classier joint than Handlebar. It’s almost like a steakhouse sometimes, the way the dark wood comes out at night. And we’ve got a steak on the menu. But, people are buying our mussels, our pulled pork, our burgers. We’re selling way more burgers than we expected. We’re having a little fun with that right now. It’s kind of like the Kuma’s Corner effect. I kind of wish we had a bigger grill.

The story goes that you spent upwards of millions of dollars constructing Revolution into the classy space that it is, gutting the century-old building, refurbishing its tin ceiling and such. Being the historian that you are, any other curiosities of the building?

If you go in the basement there’s the foundation from the old printing press that’s still there. Like two-inch thick concrete walls that supported the press that was in the middle of the room. We call it the crypt. Eventually we’re going to do a series of crypt-aged beers, hand-carried into the crypt. The bar is probably the most significant piece, though. That’s a new piece Aaron Heineman built. I think he’s building the greatest bars in Chicago. He’s very busy right now building lots of bars around town. And this one we were able to give him a fair amount of artistic freedom to have fun with. He found a way to create our fist, and of course our tap handles.

Those are great taps, the six brews represented with six stars nodding to the city’s flag. What other taps are you including in the revolution?

We’re trying to feature the best of regional craft brews, as well. We’ve got Half Acre‘s Baume on, their chocolate rye stout. The Metropolitan doppelbock. The Goose Island Green Line. We’ve got the Founder’s double IPA.

Revolution, the project, began in 2007 with a day-one blog credo of sorts on how you plan to “bring fresh, local beer to the masses,” while promoting “community and activism,” citing the desire to challenge “good ol’ American capitalism.” How goes it three years later?

Check and check on the masses and the fresh beer. Just getting open was a huge struggle. But there was a big community effort getting us going – investors, neighbors, good friends, people from the beer community, all stepped forward. A lot of people have given a lot and we’re in debt to many. A lot of free beers are being given away, let’s put it that way. Now that we’re at the point where we’re open and we can give back, I think we’re going to see weekly fundraisers, coming out in groups. I’d like to put something forward like, “What’s your revolution?” We want to support the other people that are doing great things.

Tags: Josh Deth, Revolution
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The Mothman Cometh!

October 26th, 2009

NYC’s spontaneous-storytelling crew mines for voices in slam city.

So a lawyer, a DePaul professor and a dance therapist walk into a bar…

The joke would stop there, if not for the endearing comedic weavings of all the lighthearted, though real, characters that highlighted the Chicago kick-off of New York City’s immensely popular storytelling series, The Moth, at Martyrs’ on September 29.

Down-and-out poet George Dawes Green created the series in 1997 in an attempt to resurrect the ageless art of a well-told tale (as he and his friends used to do growing up in rural Georgia, with a bottle of Jack Daniels as their only aid). Over the years, it’s grown from a simple apartment gathering into an always-sold-out party at a bar, to the second most popular podcast on the web, downloaded millions of times per week. In 2001, the series expanded to include open-mic nights, dubbed StorySLAMs; this year, Chicago and Detroit join Los Angeles as the only cities outside NYC to host such events.

The StorySLAM rules are simple: 10 randomly selected performers (would-be participants put their names in a hat at the beginning of the night) get five minutes each to tell a story that fits within a broad theme, such as “School.” The off-the-cuff nature of the event recalls Chicago’s poetry slams of the mid-’80s, pioneered by Marc Smith – aka SlamPapi – at the now-closed Get Me High Lounge (Smith still hosts Sunday-night slams at the Green Mill). The locals taking the stage last month repped the city well, offering entertaining tales about childhood games (the lawyer), the upside of bulimia (the dance therapist) and educational bravado (the prof), among others.

The very different stories had a couple things in common: all were true, and all were told without notes. This enforcement of spontaneity is a key aspect of any StorySLAM, and while it increases the possibility of failure, that’s part of the appeal, according to guest host Dan Kennedy (who’s also the permanent host of The Moth podcast). Audience members are typically polite, he says – “they say hello and that they love you, but they also hang back to see if they’ll need to move to the left should you fall flat on your face.”

A few of the attendees get to do more than that; each StorySLAM includes an impromptu three-member judging panel, which determines a winner from among the yarn-spinners. And while The Moth has hosted many talented people (notable performers have included “This American Life” contributor David Dickerson and Jonathan Ames, creator of HBO’s “Bored to Death”), you don’t have to be a practiced pro to take home the title.

“I like downtown writer-performers, but it’s about authenticity,” says Kennedy. “If the choice is between my favorite performer who does gigs all over town to a loyal following, or the guy from the gas station on 8th who just got off work and wants to give this a shot, give me the gas station guy every time. The gas station guy isn’t getting off stage to update his Twitter about how he crushed it onstage tonight like the rest of us are doing – that alone is worth its weight in gold these days.”

The Moth StorySLAM will be held at Martyrs’ on the last Tuesday of every month ($7 at the door, stories start at 8 p.m.), MC’d by a rotating spotlight of Chicago voices. Upcoming themes include “Firsts” (October 27), “Blunders” (November 24) and “Cars” (December 29).

Tags: The Moth
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Lollapalooza ’09: Been Caught Stealing

August 10th, 2009

If there’s anything quantifiable about Perry Farrell and the evolution of Lollapalooza is that the dude, and the festival, is destined for a crown in weirdness. Even if it was his point from the get-go in ’91, disguised as a farewell tour for Jane’s Addiction. But much like the many young hearts that jumped the perimeters of Grant Park, lightning-bolting through a concrete jungle of tunage and smiles for the glory of a free ticket, Lolla ’09 cruised the continuing frontier of rock and festival with several moments of bliss.

Dan Deacon, otherwise known for his basement hipster dance parties, caught a supreme chance to entertain crowd control on the large stage, in the throws of the afternoon heat. Commanding a horn section in the teens, while fiddling his signature Atari-esque knobs, capped with a dancing hot dog, the quirky twee-synth star led a pied-piper session in the loss of inhibitions. Tell me the last time you saw a forty-year-old man leapfrog over girl in her twenties…while wearing an inner tube…when the song is about a dog.

The following Passion Pit set was a little more straightforward, lead singer Michael Angelakos showering his unpolished soul yelp in fits of bubble and pop dancetronics, kids climbing up in trees to shake and rustle during “I’ve Got Your Number.” Angelakos staggered between the monitor, staring deep in the heart of the crowd, while they backed him up with a hopping “Whoa!” in unison come the part where he tells us that love’s what he needs to work at.

It was a sad moment to leave, but the Black Keys’ singer and pick-up monster, Dan Auerbach, was assembling his solo project on the other side of the park. I’m still confused why there was so much space to breathe come stage-time, especially with Lou Reed on deck following their set. But the reward was top-notch, Auerbach rolling up like the Conor Oberst of blues, decked in threads found along the Texas/Mexico border, complete with the new of addition of My Morning Jacket beatman, Patrick Hallahan, in full poncho. The only disappointing part was that they only had one record to work with.

As Saturday nightfall ushered in a Northside cluster of too many good bands in one spot, Sunday’s Lou Reed bill drew the masses, but the former Velvet Underground leader was placid as ever, opening with “Sweet Jane” completely expressionless. If it wasn’t for a 10-minute DJ distortion assault, Reed droning all the way back to his VU glory days, it would have been a spoon-fed teaser of hits, capped with “A Walk On The Wild Side.”

But good old Farrell chimed in, waving his freak flag, as the last hours hit, slinging a string of cryptic questions towards the crowd about being naked on Saturday, and whether or not anyone had been to bed yet, in the then-third day of the fest. Or my personal favorite, “What the fuck is this? 80,000 punk rockers? What the fuck?” He quickly quieted himself and went into the requisite “Jane Says” and “Three Days,” though. And come “Been Caught Stealing,” it all made sense as part of the nation that spawned alternative. And if you didn’t dig it, Farrell did set it up so you could go rock out to The Killers.

Tags: Dan Auerbach, Dan Deacon, Lou Reed, Passion Pit, Perry Farrell
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Lollapalooza ’09: I Wanna Be Your Dog

August 9th, 2009

Perry Farrell, being the rock sheik that he is, kept wide-eying reminders to grumpy, rained-out folk on Friday about how the sun would dominate the rest of the weekend. But he failed to prepare along the way, kids hopping fences and stretching wristbands in his oversight. Or maybe he’s cool like that. Either way, combined with the hot, humid air you could cut with a butter knife, Saturday was a sweaty, unleashed mess of pop, beginning with the Iggy kind.

Norwegian punktress Ida Maria owned the day’s opening gunshot, splicing love-wretched tales off her debut LP, Fortress Round My Heart, demanding the crowd take off their clothes, she herself leading the movement. It’s kind of easy when you have songs that promote being naked, though. The 25-year old capped her set with The Stooges sludgy three-chord classic, “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” straddling the stage bare-chest to sultrify the second verse, “And now I’m ready to feel your hand / And lose my heart on the burning sands.”

Aside from a placid 15-minute Band of Horses surprise on the Kidzapalooza Stage, for wee rockers and their parents, with the heaviest moment of rock paired with metaphors about “Nature” for the new season of Nickelodeon’s Yo Gabba Gabba! series, singer/songwriters came ready to entertain the masses. Joe Pug being on the top of that list, amping sounds from his apt weeping willow folk EP, Nation of Heat, with a full band, slide guitar shreds and all, swilling cans of Bud in the spaces.

I can’t tell you if the South Side of the field channeled the same energy, but up on the North, Perry’s DJ pit dueled with heavy-hitters from TV on the Radio to Beastie-Boys-pinch-hitters, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, creating a triangle of elbow-to-elbow, cattle-like exoduses every half hour, Perry chiming in around 4 p.m. to promote, once again, the enlargement of his namesake stage with a nod to the many “dance enthusiasts in Chicago,” and how his production team had “no idea” how much it’s embraced.

Meanwhile, Santigold, hot off the trails from her European tour, was gearing up to incite a handful of fans to climb on top of the sound booth and damn near collapse the thing during a speedy cover of the Cure’s “Killing an Arab,” that paired with a duo of stoic, synchronized dancers up on stage, was ten-fold the hip-shakery that Perry’s hoped to be that evening. Even with the many that let the heat get the best of them come nightfall (fallen soldiers below). But he’s still got Jane’s Addiction to unveil tomorrow.

Tags: Band of Horses, Ida Maria, Iggy Pop, Joe Pug, Perry Farrell, Santigold, TV on the Radio, Yeah Yeah Yeahs
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Lollapalooza ’09: Crooked Rain

August 8th, 2009

Chicago’s behemoth of pop festivals, though dampened by eight hours of fantastically annoying rain droplets, laced up its rock kicks in prime fashion yesterday, Grant Park playing a muddy host to everything from tribal DJ sets to David Gahan’s iconic Depeche Mode nightcap.

A few aggressions could be heard from fans towards the sky, but for the most part, pancho or no pancho, people flocked in from the noon get-go, feeding the energy of starters like Gringo Star and the southern bayou counterpart to Portland’s Decemberists, The Builders & The Butchers. Slinging hit tales like “Devil Town” and and “Bottom of the Lake,” the band’s dual-drummer thump mocked the weather, frontman Ryan Sollee teasing upward, “Bring me some rain, bring me some thunder.”

Thunder never did show. And you wouldn’t even have been able to hear it over at the new slab of concrete dedicated to Perry’s DJ enclave, where Dark Wave Disco ruled the afternoon, piling on the Daft Punk samples and washes of hipster synth to masses of hands and hips. Although I could only take so much of it before needed a little guitar.

Elsewhere in the park, rock came in spades, Heartless Bastards, The Virgins and Fleet Foxes playing despite puddles on stage. Dreary weather aficionados the Fleet Foxes were shocked that people were out in the numbers that they were, stickman J. Tillman saying that their set will definitely make the highlight reel, while Thievery Corporation delivered the epic dance party that we all knew they would, baseball diamonds turning into mud-people galas. Some girl even whipped out a pacifier.

Come sunset, rain still strong, Peter, Bjorn & John, plagued in years past by faulty stage preps and delays, finally killed a set, looking like they just rolled off a sailboat. One minute the signature whistle of “Young Folks” blasted, the next Peter Moren’s emulating Ian Curtis full seizure with a cover of “Transmission.” It was a perfect segue into Depeche Mode.

Not unlikely that this could be one of Gahan’s last tours, as rumors of the singer’s health fly, near 100,000 filed into the south end of the park, skipping Kings of Leon for some classic ’80s new wave. Rain would have probably completed the mood, ironically, but the crew caught the first glimpse of clear sky, digging into their entire catalogue, from requisite Violator classics “Policy of Truth” and “Personal Jesus” to newbies off 2009’s Sounds of the Universe, while cryptic poetry typed on a faux-typewriter flashed over faces from the jumbotrons. Certainly no pain brings art moment, but a nice sing-along eyeliner salute to day one.

Tags: Bjorn & John, Builders & The Butchers, Dark Wave Disco, Depeche Mode, Fleet Foxes, Gringo Starr, Heartless Bastards, Peter, The Virgins
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Pitchfork Fest ’09: Do You Realize??

July 21st, 2009

Wayne Coyne and his bubble, albeit always entertaining, was the outlier of Pitchfork’s pushing stride of excellence. First of all, Lollapalooza just pulled that card a few years back. Second, a 10 p.m. curfew for an was doomed to be unsatisfying. Whatever. Forgiven. The bar on festivals has been raised, before anyone could even get in to Union Park at 1 p.m.

There were collaborations (The Mae Shi and Kid Static), French end-of-the-world dance parties (M83), drummers surrounded in Plexiglass shields, alternative-nation nostalgia (The Thermals), the ethos of emo-shred (Japandroids), a classic rock power hour (Blitzen Trapper), brooding guitars galore with too many Fender strats to count (Frightened Rabbit, The Walkmen, Women, Grizzly Bear), a token “fuck you” hip-hop chant (Pharoahe Monch), and seriously not one belligerent drunk to ruin the painting.

As observed on Saturday, “affirmation” was the word of the weekend. A show’s only as good as its audience, and taking a handful of acts literally out of their garage element was a gamble, but also a shining nod to P4K’s promoters. Maybe ignorance is bliss, but when a five-year-old child air-guitars with aviator earmuffs aside a forty-year-old father legitimately doing the same thing, that is more than affirmation.

And it was realized everywhere on Sunday, from the reciprocated punk yelps of The Mae Shi at festival kick-off, to the wonderfully twisted stabs of Women’s Velvet Underground folk. Even, I guess, to Coyne and his “She Don’t Use Jelly” sing-a-long, which was probably first assembled in a garage as well.

Tags: Blitzen Trapper, Frightened Rabbit, Grizzly Bear, Japandroids, Kid Static, M83, Pharoahe Monch, The Flaming Lips, The Mae Shi, The Thermals, The Walkmen, Wayne Coyne, Women
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Pitchfork Fest ’09: We Miss Being Ruffians

July 21st, 2009

Pitchfork’s festival has always fought the good fight to rise above the internet buzz of the now and host emergent, top-notch tuneage. Bursts of unbridled true colors have been spotted the past four years (see fire marshals suppressing the onstage parties of Girl Talk and Dan Deacon), and this year was no exception.

Aside from the media shitstorm that is Wavves, and the photographer-shunning set the duo sludged through mid-afternoon, Saturday was full of affirming sets that left crowds and artists confused. Opener Cymbals Eat Guitars are just starting to see the light outside of their New York garage, and yet could not comprehend how triumphantly they killed the Pavement-ethos of hit single, “And The Hazy Sea.” Meanwhile, Beirut’s Zach Condon quipped that the audience was the largest his dear ukulele had ever seen, before witnessing a few interesting souls crowd-surf in synch to baroque waltzes from Gulag Orkestar.

I could ruminate how the music industry is so completely privatized that there will forever be a yearn to communally appreciate artists at large-scale festivals like this. But really, Saturday was Pitchfork concretely evolving into one of the best destination festivals around, complete with every division of taste and tastemaker.

The evolution of the festival has certainly not always been the almighty finger-on-the-pulse. Yoko Ono in 2007? The woman wasted a good half-hour of people’s attention teaching the audience how to say “I love you” with a flashlight. But capped by The National’s brooding, Viking guitar voyages, supported by an ear-to-ear smile session in drum-and-organ pop from Matt and Kim, DOOM’s purebred hip-hop and a retro-punk stage destruction from the Black Lips, Saturday was the sound of attention being rewarded.

Tags: Beirut, Black Lips, Cymbals Eat Guitars, DOOM, Matt and Kim, The National, Wavves
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Pitchfork Fest ’09: There Will Be No Encore…

July 18th, 2009

Flannel shirts everywhere, the fourth evolution of the Pitchfork Music Festival wafted over Chicago like a Seattle rain cloud circa 1992. And what a way to start: hometown fusion heroes, Tortoise, followed by the supreme thrash and fuzz of Yo La Tengo, another hometown reincarnation, the Jesus Lizard, and lastly, bearded shredders, Built to Spill.

Spaced out by toe-taps and side-stage smoke breaks, Tortoise were trademark blasé, on a night themed around fans’ creation of set-lists. Dubbed “Write the Night,” Pitchfork polled ticket-holders for their favorite tunes, handing over picks to the bands proper. Though on more than one occasion bands took liberties with their own faves, notably Yo La Tengo’s stabby organ nod to Chicago Cubs Hall of Famer Ron Santos.

Likewise for the Jesus Lizard. If you don’t know the story, their appearance at Pitchfork marks a string of dates with the original formation of the band, as years past have seen falling outs and a hiatus or two. So by the time David Yow hit the microphone, a man known for wrapping his genitalia around instruments, the punk energy hit reckless levels. Bodies were thrown. Never mind set-lists, Yow instead encouraging the crowd to demand their money back at the gate before launching into a blur of one-word-isms from everything from Liar to ’98’s Blue.

By the time Built to Spill brought it home, “Write the Night” was really just a passing phrase, especially since Doug Martsch could be seen pre-performance scribbling out, from thin air, tunes for his closing set. Even so, hit after hit mostly pulled from the band’s Perfect From Now On and Keep It Like A Secret, saw a sea of plaid hoist intense air guitar sessions in support, all coming to a frothy, squalling head in the rhetorical fusion of classic rock past in “You Were Right,” that resonated deep within sets of generation Xers present.

Tags: Built to Spill, Jesus Lizard, Tortoise, Yo La Tengo
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Unofficial SXSW ’09: The Hipsters are Coming

March 24th, 2009

Austin is a massive, wonderful and gorgeous place. And SXSW is equally as diverse and awesome, unofficially and officially. And this is not a hipster bashing rant. But if the only stain Austin has is the big stain of Texas that surrounds it, then the one bad thing about SXSW is hipsters. Not the polite, nerdy ones, who flood the rapidly gentrifying minority establishments with cash for Lonestar and Shiner Bock so they can survive. But the assholes that don’t give a damn about who the hell is even playing, bring their own damn beer, throw it all over the street and proceed to bum rush the stage in all their filthy, flannel glory and break drummers ankles for a peak at cool.

True story. It was bound to happen, there at Todd P’s growing freeness at Mrs. Bea’s. But whatever. Small piece of the story. Didn’t stop psychedelic-folk hellions, Thee Oh Sees from setting up shop on the floor of the patio, which was actually more dangerous, as frontman John Dwyer looked and thrashed as if he wanted to kill someone with his guitar. I stood on the other side of the fence to make sure. While the ’60s sunshine popsters, Woods, segued with a charming Graham Nash metaphor via an echoic cover of “Military Madness,” to exercise a beautiful moment of chill.

Maybe I had a little pent up aggression from the second coming of the Fuck By Fuck You festival at the adjacent metal house, The Typewriter Museum, as for the poke at hipsters. Still, the place is a certifiable punk-rock shit hole, with pet goats and free beer, typewriters lodged into the earth and sides of walls. Not to mention the talent pulled together: Black Cock, Clint’s Clit, Baby Got Bacteria. And people still had the decency to throw their trash in a can.

Tags: Baby Got Bacteria, Black Cock, Clint’s Clit, Thee Oh Sees, Todd P, Woods
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Unofficial SXSW ’09: Lost in Texas

March 23rd, 2009

Growing weary of the East side of the city and the hipster shantytown that has begun to develop an invisible belt around Mrs. Bea’s and Todd P happenings, I made it a point that I was going to get super random on day three and blindly attack one of the many warehouse or house parties and get more of a breath of Austin local. The way of music, I pretty much struck out, with every band I saw coming from out of town. But the caliber of Austin-bred youth that aided in my temporary hitchhiking tactic to get to said parties made up for it, especially the two teenagers who thought I’d be impressed if I watched them snort pills of X off their dashboard.

Though the big pupil fun didn’t happen until the moon came out. Since I had this plan to get lost come evening, during the day I figured I’d find pockets of free and unofficial in downtown proper. There was a Swedish and Norway takeover at a creek-side lounge called Habana Calle that drew me in easily, 1.) because Loney Dear was headlining and 2.) because the Swedes are going to Viking-conquer the world if they continue to make indie pop the way they have been. I spent a little time with a spastic, metal version of the Shout Out Louds, Ungdomskulen, who kept reassuring in broken English that they woke up that morning feeling the proverbial “it,” which turned out to be a healthy relationship with the cowbell, before killing the hour before Loney Dear took the stage, across the street at a tent show featuring a new sludgy guitar buzz band from San Diego, Earthless. As their own entity, they layer guitar squall near My Bloody Valentine ear-bleed level. But with special guest J. Mascis in tow, they were the ultimate reincarnation of earl-90s fuzz.

No, I didn’t wear earplugs. And yes, I regret it. For a good part of the next hour of hitchhiking, I couldn’t discern a car horn from a phone call, let alone enjoy the delicate string arrangements of Loney Dear. But that subsided by the time I took a breather at a coffee shop and convinced those aforementioned teenagers, just starting their day, to take and accompany me at this warehouse shindig put on by local producer, Scott Jawson. There were plenty of local bands on the bill, mostly dance rock acts, but a few canceled and I got trapped out in the middle of nowhere with only The Mae Shi (California) to entertain in a two and half hour block. That’s not to say they killed it. Their brand of strobe-yelp punk threw kids into a hip-shaking fury. I think I saw my ecstasy friends jump a good four feet in the air during a twee-thrasher called “Run To Your Grave,” the band screaming the chorus to the ceiling – “You’ve got to tear, burn, soil the flesh. God will do the rest.”

And then with an angular guitar jab it was over. My phone was dead. Had no money for a cab. The ecstasy friends had bolted. Not that I wanted to get in with a car with them, anyhow, however entertaining it would have been. Instead I found myself in the company of three lust-for-club girls who would only offer me a ride if I went with them to a dj-throwdown at a gutted Salvation Army building. Again, it was kind of a NYC-invasion type deal headlined by a slick, greaser-clad spinster dubbed Drop The Lime. No local talent in sight. But the dude dropped enough sonic limes to draw hoards of sweaty kids on stage, that knocked the power supply out at least five times, beyond the point of annoying and the straw that prompted an internal, “Screw it, I’m walking home.”

Tags: Drop The Lime, J Mascis, Loney Dear, The Mae Shi, Ungdomskulen
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Unofficial SXSW ’09: Where’s That Confounded Bridge?

March 20th, 2009

Of all the unofficial and free gatherings, the Lamar Pedestrian Bridge show is the most infamous. Back when the internet wasn’t all the rage, people would usually either a.) show up every night of SXSW at 1 a.m. and cross their fingers or b.) hear an announcement through the grapevine. This year, despite Todd P and his listings newspaper, despite every fancy electronic level of communication, no one seemed to know a damn thing. Maybe it was a marketing strategy to build hype. Maybe procrastination. Whatever the case, it took some effort to get this grammatical misfit of a text message:

Free radd show on the lamarre pedestrian bridge off cesar chavez 12:45 a.m. w/ anamanaguchi, so so glos, fiasco, + secret special guests. PASS IT ON

It was no 1000-body deep grunge spectacular as with No Age and Fucked Up last year, but enough made it to give the bridge a good shake. I’d like to tell you about the secret special guest, but this journalist only saw an acoustic set by philly-bred rockers, Drink Up Buttercup, which was completely different from their studio shtick, employing some maraca-led sing-a-longs and some surprisingly phenom vocal harmonies while a spattering of skateboarders circled around like sharks, and then a literally radd with a double ‘d’ party punk shit show by Brooklyn’s The So So Glos, before a friendly Austinite offered me a ride home. And you say ‘yes’ when you’re staying three miles South of downtown at 3 a.m. Did stay long enough for a tune called “Throw Your Hands Up,” though, that made my night first with the slippage of “ghettoblaster” in the chorus, and then with some Clash-happy guitar tweaks that combined with another lyric about damning the FCC, punctuated the illegal bridge show mood. Thanks So So Glos for making me feel like a punk.

As for day (and late evening) happenings, I got schooled on how Japanese rockers open beer bottles, caught a punk rock round-robin battle that got a little nasty with drummers spitting on fans, got serenaded by the Chicago, viola songbird Anni Rossi sitting Indian style in a parking lot, protested the decade-strong rejection of a local musician’s hope to play SXSW proper at his own house party dubbed Lick X Lick My Balls, and ate many a grilled treats from many a mobile cart, every bit of which was free, aside from the grilled treats. And, um, why aren’t you here yet?

Tags: Anni Rossi, Drink Up Buttercup, The So So Glos
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Unofficial SXSW ’09: Nerds and Noise Ordinances

March 19th, 2009

Likewise, as last year’s navigation of badge-less activities showed us, there is no shortage of free and awesome come SXSW time in Austin. In fact, the town is so overloaded with tunage and eyes to watch it that the ultimate marketing experiment is created, party promoters forced to think less free PBR and more, say, PB&J sammies toasted with Elvis prints. Even before the festival proper kicked off, a sweet girl at Beauty Bar was slinging free manicures. Of course I didn’t plan my attack based on the level of free swag I could score. Most of it just sounded rad – Monstrosity Indie House Party – or so nerdy it’s gotta be rad – Game Boy Data Pop Fest? Sold.

As for the Game Boy throw down, indeed it was both nerdy and rad. If you’re not familiar with 8-bit rockstars, it’s basically a geeked-out dj set-up. Instead of scratching a record, dudes and gals will employ early-80s, video game thumb skills, kitschy-digitizing everything from the Little Mermaid’s “Kiss The Girl” to Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” I mean, it was cool for the first two acts that I caught, a crew of three, complete with back-up vocals called 8Bk OK, followed by an artist dubbed Sievert, who wanted to make it very clear that he was from space, complete with a NASA jumpsuit. And a girl standing next to me didn’t think anything was strange about her Chuck-E-Cheese’s fanny pack. But I could only take so many variations of buttons ‘A’ and ‘B’ before my rock and roll heart started to get angry.

So the indie house party was on deck. Promising three-floors of art, beer and talent ranging from New Zealand dance punkers Bang Bang Eche to NYC’s disco house set, The Golden Filter, I figured the place would at least reach the a.m. hours of Thursday. Sadly, by the time I made it cross-town to the suburban house, the fun shut down because of a city noise ordinance. And the kegs were dry. So I indulged in the art, staring way too long at a jailhouse caricature of Ex-Pres Bush, before fiending for one of Austin’s infamous burritos made in a cart, and calling it a night to day one.

Per a rewind to daylight, some top-notch unofficial goodness was had, as well. NYC’s indie-promoter Todd P is at it again, throwing bashes at Ms. Bea’s on the East Side of the city, where I caught an afternoon dedicated to female rockers, while downtown I was able to easily bar hop to tunes via Ezra Furman and The Harpoons, Vetiver and an oddly affable set by Swedish folkster, The Tallest Man On Earth, among a few other spotlight hopefuls.

Tags: 8BK-ok, Bang Bang Eche, Ezra Furman and The Harpoons, The Golden Filter, The Tallest Man On Earth, Vetiver
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Weegee’s Lounge

February 13th, 2009

An old Polish dive outfitted in disco balls on the outskirts of Humboldt becomes a whiskey knock-back homage to an iconic crime scene photographer.

The flickering strobe of one of Chicago’s blue light cameras, the city’s newest crime-stopping technique, constantly sits in the corner of your eye at this ’40s-theme cocktail bar. But Weegee’s occupies a spot on the western trenches of Humboldt Park that’s less theft and violent crime and more strutting grounds for “working girls.”

It’s a neighborhood clean-up project of sorts, one that consciously ventures into the wild, wild west-of-the-Logan-Square-buzz. Alex Huebner and his wife bought out Chris’s Bar, a Polish dive outfitted in disco balls, fourteen shades of brown and poker machines, and freshened it up with jet blue paint and an “everybody knows your name” vibe.

A photography graduate of Chicago’s Art Institute, Huebner has an affinity for an immigrant-era, black-and-white crime scene photographer by the name of Arthur Fellig, a.k.a. “Weegee,” hence the name of the bar. So don’t be surprised when you find original Weegee prints speckled along the walls and a photo booth in the back.

To achieve the sharp class of the target era, cocktails come styled for Humphrey Bogart-esque drinkers. Order your Knickerbocker, Sidecar or Delmonico ($8) with cool and utter confidence. Wines are crisp and on the citrus side, at a round $6. Beers average them same, run heavy and pull from several different regions and styles—California, Wisconsin, Quebec—with a fine import selection from Alex’s native Germany.

Tags: Weegee's Lounge
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Zoba Noodle Bar

January 22nd, 2009

Another downtown Evanston quirky (and cheap) Thai go-to

Although a twist on “soba,” the Japanese buckwheat noodle, on account of its in-house noodle prep, Zoba is all eyes for Thai. Gyoza (pot stickers), Tum Yum, curries, Pad Thai, all traditionally back up a handful of quirky, loaded-ingredient spin-offs, noted by the prefix “Zo,” i.e. Zo’s Crazy Noodles, a basil, carrot, onion bell pepper, egg, straw mushroom and bamboo shoot stir-fry.

It’d be tacky if it wasn’t so modestly priced, dressed in a Discovery Zone mismatch of yellows and lime green, walls dotted with red plates. But with double-the-portion entrees of area competition (Cozy Noodles & Rice) under $9 (excluding shrimp and combos), dipping under $7 for lunch, it’s perfect for BYOB socials and NU study breaks on a budget.

Hours: 9 a.m.-6:30 p.m. Sunday-Thursday; 9 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Friday; Closed Saturday

Price range:

Under $9

Tags: Zoba Noodle Bar
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Local bands Say Welcome to Chicago Noise Machine this Weekend

November 13th, 2008

The Internet may have leveled the playing field for bands looking to hit the big time, but it might have happened at the expense of local music scenes. “The iPod generation isn’t going to see live shows of bands they don’t know anymore,” Kevin Schneider, bassist for local indie rock band Reverie, tells Paste:Local. Under that assumption, Schneider and his Reverie bandmates have joined forces with eight other bands to form the Chicago Noise Machine, a musical collective that handles its own promotion, booking, compilation album releases in lieu of a record label.

“By creating a network, a talent-core – not just for struggling bands, but fans and businesses as well – we feel we can draw attention to the Chicago music scene, and get people to come out for reasons other than just to see their friend’s band… and then jet,” Schneider explains.

The bands that form CNM – Reverie, plus A Birdsong Valentine, Algren, Bullet Called Life, Echo Son,Heavy The Fall, Lucid Ground, 72 Hours, and Simplistic Urge – have all fought the good fight, gig after gig, on the same local stages. But for them, at least, the “monogamous,” go-it-alone band model is now a thing of the past. “Why other bands haven’t realized this is beyond us,” says Schneider. “Music is collective, not individual. Once we start remembering that, things ought to get better.”

To inspire locals to think the same, CNM will hold a launch party this Friday, Nov. 14th at 7 p.m. at The Cubby Bear in Wrigleyville. For $10, attendees can take in all nine bands’ 20-minute teaser sets (meant to, in Schneider’s words, “expose people to as much new music as possible without boring them”).Volume I of Chicago Noise Machine’s compilation series will make its complimentary debut, and the groups have pooled their own bank account to raffle off a guitar signed by each band member. When it comes to musical polygamy, this looks like one well-oiled Machine.

Tags: 72 Hours, A Birdsong Valentine, Algren, Bullet Called Life, Echo Son, Heavy The Fall, Lucid Ground, Model Stranger, Reverie, Simplistic urge
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Pit Er Pat: ‘High Time’

October 30th, 2008

Spacious new dispatches from far-out Chicago trio

Pit Er Pat’s early melodies were quirky and erratic, kerplunking about like jazz without a backbone, despite Fay Davis-Jeffers’ charming popstress vocals. But around 2005 the band finally nailed it, hitting a subsequent series of Thrill Jockey releases to the moon, almost literally, having reached a spacious new indie-rock frontier where musical eccentricities became boundless punctuations.

On High Times, the band employs horn arrangements by Icy Demons’ Dylan Ryan, and a Far East garage sale booty of Burmese temple gongs, bobo balaphones, anandalaharis and many other toys that require the aid of an encyclopedia reference. Slathered in spiritual tinkerings, it’s very much an opus– and certainly a departure from the drums, keyboard and bass instrumentation of the band’s early work. From Rob Duran’s cavernous, pinch-hitting guitar on “Omen” to Fay’s newfound angelic coos on “The Good Morning Song,” the mood is always well-paced and full-bodied. Even in crescendo on “Creation Stepper,” when three-minutes of aqua-wood patterings merge with a barrage of cymbals and a chorus of tribal hymnals, everything is filtered into a trance-like thread. Pit er Pat may have decamped to the moon a while ago, but now they’re finally sending back reports of life.

Tags: Pit Er Pat
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The Writing on the Wall

October 2nd, 2008

Bridgeport is supposed to be the community of tomorrow. A mural painted on the wall of a local gallery tells a slightly different story.

“Get those colors the fuck off that wall! You wanna do something there? Use black and gold, only!” narrates artist Nicky Dieter, in his best gang-impersonation voice, describing the community’s initial reaction to the mural, he, another artist named Thor and a handful of friends painted in four days in the Southside ‘hood of Bridgeport.

Scenesters are predicting a Wicker Park-type gentrification in the area, with the gallery the mural rests upon, the 5,000-square-foot Co-Prosperity Sphere, as the seed of attraction. To the 33rd division of the Latin King set, though, the area is still very much headquarters—as demonstrated by Dieter’s first-hand tales of car windows smashed by bricks and drivers dragged to the asphalt and beaten.

Dieter and Thor, both veteran graffiti writers in the city, subjected themselves to the madness simply because a “dude”—Ed Marszewski, the owner of the gallery—”gave me a wall,” Thor explains, “And whatever I can paint, at this point, I will paint.”

While this comment is mainly a reflection of where the artist is at in his own career (Thor showcases just a few gallery pieces a summer, as he spends most of his time with his family on a farm in southern Michigan), it’s also a stab at Mayor Daley’s ominous Graffiti Blasters crew, which, with the help of an annual $6.5 million budget, erases graffiti within less than 24 hours of receiving a complaint. Dieter chimes in, “When the [Blasters] came, it took away what other cities have. You go to almost any other city and you can see who started their scene, how it developed. And in Chicago, our history is erased. Young kids coming up have no clue what’s done.”

So the Bridgeport mural was a tribute to the art form Dieter and Thor fell in love with as kids. And since they had no plan of attack going in, their wall was bound to be influenced by its surroundings—gang happenings included. “We walked into shocking hostility, that compounded by the falling economy, and our own independent struggles, we saw destruction, felt hate, and created this,” shares Dieter.

“This,” in full horizontal glory, is their depiction of the decline of Western civilization, where a materialistic, severely impatient woman decides to microwave a full turkey out of convenience, but instead sets a neighborhood ablaze. Cars are crashing into fire hydrants. Residents are screaming from their windows, while on the opposite side of the mural, some figures are infatuated with how many logos and brands their clothing can broadcast, and a man lusts for his stock quotes, experiencing life through his computer.

Dieter explains, “The wall’s a comment in general. There’s an ongoing joke that Bridgeport is the community of tomorrow. And we were just making fun of that because it’s been a community that’s been left behind. And I think that’s another reason why we painted an image that’s not friendly, and not lovely. While it looks great, it’s a violent, sad thing that’s happening. This neighborhood was left behind by Mayor Daley and everyone else that used to live here. And they haven’t done anything. I’ve had multiple police officers and people tell me to watch myself when I’m here, because the police officers themselves allow everyone to do what they want.”

Over the course of the four days it took Dieter, Thor and their crew (taggers named Ship, BR and Yoink) to create the mural, gang members and other locals warmed up to them, sharing food, offering beers and insisting that their names be included in the piece. “Most of them were good people,” explains Dieter, “And while anyone should have the right to go into someone else’s neighborhood, you should be respect[ful] of where you’re at.”

To pay its respects, the crew dedicated the core of the piece—a drainage pipe painted to look like a light pole, complete with miniature signs—to the surrounding streets. “The pole is their pole,” says Dieter. “We allowed them to throw up any name that they have, or affiliation, as long as it wasn’t negative.” Names like ‘Mi33y’ (spelled with two threes to signify that she’s from the 33rd district of the Latin King Nation) and ‘Kriminal’ (etched in impressive Old English) can be found among the tags.

Bridgeport locals were able to add their names to the mural’s central pole.

Branching out from the light pole, Thor decided to paint the shadow of a classic ‘lurker’ figure, which kids in the community took an odd liking to. “They’d come up and be like, ‘oh, that’s me. I’m the lurker. That’s my personality. I watch what goes on here. I’m a criminal. I do bad stuff, and no one sees me’,” impersonates Dieter. “On the other side of the pole we painted one of the police cameras that has the flashing blue light on it. The camera lens is an eye, the all-seeing eye that watches everything. However, the lurker is on the other side of the pole. And while the neighborhood knows where the camera is, the camera doesn’t know where everything else is, including the lurker.”

At the end of the four days, Dieter and crew began picking up spray-paint cans, and other bits of trash, when they noticed a gang member following suit and sweeping the Latin King side of the street clean. “I asked him for his broom and I swept up our side, as well. When it was done, it was immaculate. Broken bottles, fast-food wrappers…not in sight.”

Dieter and I visit the spot three weeks out from that moment, arms folded in silence as we eye the mural. The Co-Prosperity Sphere swings its doors open, out of the corner of our eyes, for another free evening showcase, when Dieter dictates, “It’s obvious that gentrification happens in this process. Artists move in for cheap rent. Locals are pushed into corners. And it either gets cooler or safer, and all the people that have nothing to do with the art or culture start moving in and ruin it.

“That said, I hope [Bridgeport] doesn’t change. The main thing we were trying to do, when we got this spot, was give a big piece of art to this neighborhood. It’s not an advertisement. It’s something to look at, and it’s offering you nothing. And every local that came and watched us paint, I think saw that.”

Tags: Bridgeport, Co-Prosperity Sphere, Latin Kings
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Ra Ra Riot in Chicago

September 12th, 2008

The last time the Cure-meets-Morrissey heart-tuggers Ra Ra Riot hit Chicago, the quintet could be seen conga-lining through a sea of hipsters post-gig at the Wicker Park street festival. That was before they were all about the ‘Rhumb,’ as in their August 19 debut Barsuk set, The Rhumb Line. Last night, the band performed the album in its entirety at the sold-out PBR-labyrinth of the same hood’s Subterranean.

Happenstance gave the evening a September 11 tag, adding deeper meaning to a few of the crew’s brooding pop tracks: “Dying Is Fine” and “Ghost Under Rocks.” But the somber mood was soon lifted by singer Wes Miles and his evangelical front-man antics — crashing into bandmates, falling to his knees mid-chorus, and, at one point, palming the heads of fans in the front row while wringing “I need your love” sentiments from Kate Bush’s “Hounds of Love.”

The Ra Ra-ians sure deserve that love. The band’s story is plagued by the death of a drummer, among other tragedies. So when Miles thumped his chest to the snare of “Oh La,” and the crowd screamed for more of Alexandra Lawn’s and Rebecca Zeller’s instrumental play, Miles had no choice but to bring it home, crooning “We’ve got our lives to love each other, we have got to stick together!”

Ra Ra Riot were chosen as our It Happened Last Night band by Gym Class Heroes drummer Matt McGinley as part of today’s Gym Class Heroes takeover of SPIN.com. Matt’s a big fan of the band, which isn’t surprising considering Ra Ra Riot guitarist Milo Bonacci is a childhood friend of McGinley’s, and was actually the original guitarist in Gym Class Heroes. Watch the video below as Matt talks about his friendship with Milo and what he loves about Ra Ra Riot.

Tags: Ra Ra Riot
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Okkervil River

August 26th, 2008

What? As proven by the double success of 2005’s heart-tugger, Black Sheep Boy, and its excellent leftover scraps follow-up, Black Sheep Boy Appendix, Austin’s Okkervil River are always trying to bring a grand idea full circle. And with the The Stand Ins, the act’s new album and sequel to 2007’s The Stage Names, out September 9, Okkervil River bring closure to an intense and cinematic drama with explosions of folk and lyrics that tell of a tragic ending unfolding atop a hotel roof in Manhattan.

Who? Okkervil River garnered cred in the Lone Star State by paving a club-by-club path to a 2000 SXSW appearance with just two EPs under their belt. Known for blurring the line between emotional freakout and cathartic lull, frontman Will Sheff’s literary approach to music has earned the band the reward of five LPs on the Jagjaguwar imprint, with many more EPs in between.

Fun Fact: Interactive album art abounds! If you stack The Stage Names above The Stand Ins, the complete picture of the album series reveals itself. Ohhhh… mysterious!

Now Hear This: Okkervil River, “Lost Coastlines”

Tags: Okkervil River
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Metronomy Light Up Chicago

July 30th, 2008

Last night (July 29), Metronomy commanded the PA at the Funky Buddha Lounge’s Tuesday “Outdanced” series, in which Chicago’s most fashionable hipster-clubbers shake their asses on the cheap while local DJs support hype machines like Crystal Castles and Simian Mobile Disco. And on this particular evening, U.K. trio Metronomy unleashed their Devo-esque synchronizations like one perpetual Tri-Lam concert from Revenge of the Nerds.

The performance was an exercise in British humor, as frontman Joseph Mount and his two keys-and-bass bandmates came donned in their trademark push-light-duct-taped-to-chest rig, and the tunes that followed that same line of wit. Mount, the man otherwise known for his remix skills on records by everyone from Architecture in Hesinki to Zero 7, robot-shimmied to a series of singles from the group’s new LP, Nights Out, due this September.

He and his cohorts spanned sounds that evoked Joy Division minimalism as much as the Klaxons’ electroclash. And subsequently, Funky Buddha’s pit was a tribal seizure of spunky synth-drenched fans, all teeth and smiles while screaming along to tales about “breath-taking” girls (“Radio Ladio”) and moving to quirky off-kilter tinny beats disguised as straightforward tales about said girls (“Holiday”). Three guesses what the new album’s about?

Tags: Metronomy
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Chicago Headbangs With Helmet

July 25th, 2008

Though some diehard fans would scoff at the present-day, ever-rotating lineup known as Helmet, the veterans made like a G ‘N R reunion tour and inspired droves to flock into the Double Door last night (July 24) in support of their highbrow headbangery.

Always one to be praised for careening through strident, staccato guitar exchanges whilst still cookie-monstering actual lyrical wit, Page Hamilton was visibly wowing himself with tunes pulled from the band’s 19-year catalog, as bandmates literally never missed a note; rockery that equally pleased the mostly 30-year-old dudes blessed with a chance to relive times of metal’s recent past.

Tales about mastering ones angst (“Ironhead”) and deteriorating envy (“Blacktop”) from the group’s first two LPs invoked mass hair-whips, with fans in the front row clutching the stage like a bench-press, pumping out emotions with every furious rhythmic syncopation.

Hamilton closed the evening with a joke: “It starts off in 5/4. Is that confusing?” asked the brain of the New York outfit before capping with their monster one-time single “In The Meantime,” pausing with a smirk before readdressing the crowd’s “hell no,” by responding, “Good, ’cause we’re math rock.”

Tags: Helmet
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Conor Oberst

July 21st, 2008

What? Tapping into the same spiritual curiosity he sought in a town full of psychics on Bright Eyes’ Cassadaga, Conor Oberst seeks solstice in the footsteps of Mexican lore, ditching longtime producer Mike Mogis’ genius for an unadorned, hee-haw Americana jam session; a far enough departure from Bright Eyes’ decade-plus formula for the Omaha native to dub his new project a “solo” affair. Set amidst a “mystic valley,” Conor and his new crew — aptly dubbed the Mystic Valley Band — sling crunchy electric guitars and country yelps, from the Tom Petty power strums of “Moab” to slower moonlight fingerpicks of “Lenders In The Temple.” And though certainly a genre-based hootenanny, the new set is full of the troubadour’s trademark cathartic wit.

Who? Conor Oberst, a founding member of Saddle Creek Records best known for vocal temper tantrums and orchestral lulls, quickly became a guiding voice for troubled 20-somethings while still a teenager, as critics aligned his name with Bob Dylan’s thanks to his lyrically heady albums under the Bright Eyes moniker. And with his eponymous debut, Oberst opts to momentarily ditch his label, longtime stage name, and friend/producer/guitarist Mike Mogis to form the Mystic Valley Band — essentially a crew of sometime collaborators Nick Freitas (guitar), Jason Boesel (drums), Macey Taylor (bass), Taylor Hollingsworth (guitar), and Nate Wolcott (trumpet).

Fun Fact? Recording locale Tepoztlán, Morelos, México, is known by locals as a “Pueblo Mágico” for its history of Aztec magic and UFO sightings. And the temporary studio Conor and crew constructed in its valley, rightly dubbed “Valle Mistico,” a.k.a. “Mystic Valley,” stuck with the songwriter’s team of musicians, hence their adopted collective christening.

Now Hear This: Conor Oberst, “Danny Callahan” (DOWNLOAD MP3)

Tags: Conor Oberst
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Pitchfork Fest ’08: Lights & Music

July 21st, 2008

The buzz and short attention spans I spoke of in Day One, and the newfound diversity heralded in Day Two, these things imploded upon each other the final hours of Sunday, with one holy rockness middle ground rising up from the rubble.

The moment can be pinpointed actually, if you were to witness Les Savy Fav’s punk-maestro, Tim Harrington, careen his bald dome into a city garbage can, demanding the crowd hoist him, and his new stage, into the air so he could finish his song.

Post-set comment from a fan:

Dude wanted up, like Oscar the Grouch, towards the sky! Easily the most zenith of any rock and roll moment I have ever witnessed.

Sure it was the same debauchery Harrington’s built his reputation upon at various sweaty clubs across the country. But there was a time when Pitchfork’s occupation of Union Park did not care to venture too far outside Japanese drum circles and freak folk…at least at four o’ clock in the afternoon.

Lots of subjectives and parallels here, no doubt; this year’s closers, Spoon, were part of the inaugural year’s line-up, for instance. Call it happenstance. Call it a mirror of the market. One certainty ran from band to band on Sunday – their ability to work a stage on a broad-appeal level, yet still harbor that sub-radar exclusivity.

And everyone there, unlike years past, yearned to share the sentiment together.

San Francisco’s The Dodos owned the rest of afternoon, engulfing onlookers in Morrissey lulls, only to bottle rocket off into tribal clangery. It took effort not to dance those rhythms out of your bones, especially with tales about “Fools” who take loved ones for granted.

While M. Ward brooded quintessential chill, whispering lofty Satchmo-gravel secrets to his mic, while fans built sculptures in the mud. The folkster sauntered through Daniel Johnston covers and reminded people to partake in the arts & crafts aspect of the festival. It was a nice little resting point before the divine indie-vention of Spiritualized.

If Les Savy Fav brought people together with punk hedonism, Spiritualized exalted evangelical rock. Right at the end of the day, when the sun decides to fireball into your eyes, the band took the stage, gospel choir in tow, and unleashed notes that truly saved. Story goes lead singer, Jason Spaceman, nearly died of pneumonia in the making of latest LP, Songs In A&E. When the brooding squall of “Shine A Light” erupted from his guitar, fans were there in a foot of mud beaming rays. And when the band hammered into “Come Together,” arms flew up in the air like beacons of hope.

Meanwhile, J Mascis amped his six-stack of Marshalls to blastatron, and ripped through all that late-’80s zen-guitar fuzz he and other Junior Dinosaurs married angst with. Whereas Spiritualized ask for redemption, Mascis just shredded emotion into oblivion, throwing his white mop all over his guitar, kids screaming “Feel The Pain” like an anthem: “I feel the pain of everyone, then I feel nothing.”

And then something odd happened. Droves flooded the side stage for Cut Copy, but no Cut Copy was found. So the droves about-faced and headed back for closer Spoon on the main stage. Word was that Spoon Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga’d some unity and entertainment and…yeah. But those that held strong on the side stage were treated to a misfit superjam made up of Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox, King Khan and Jay Reatard on flower and ass-wiping duty.

I do not understand what’s punk about wiping remnants of feces on flowers and throwing them into a mass of people, but the three would rock just about anything the crowd demanded, from Nirvana to CSNY. And just when the drunken buffoonery reached its max, Khan presented a late Cut Copy, whose flight was delayed…from Australia.

Running into that silly 10 p.m. curfew law that closed shop on Animal Collective the previous night, the Aussie club-hearts lit the last 30 minutes of that night aflame in pop-techno circusry; sweaty night thrusts, burning into brains with every camera flash:

Lights and music, are on my mind. Be my baby, one more time.

There were kids dancing without a clue as to why they were dancing. Synth-hook genius, indeed. But this was simply about sharing lights and music.

Tags: Animal Collective, Bradford Cox, Cut Copy, Deerhunter, J Mascis, Jay Reatard, King Khan, Les Savy Fav, M. Ward, Spiritualized, Spoon, The Dodos
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Pitchfork Fest ’08: Evolution of Hip

July 20th, 2008

As the natural progression of emergently original things go, Pfork’s festival speaks no more to one niche market, which is something best analogized by !!!’s Nic Offer late afternoon Saturday, before thrusting his pelvis to a series of genre-blurring grunts:

We’re the lowest rated band on Pitchfork, with the highest set time. It goes to show you the kids know something the critics don’t.

There is no judgment being passed here, for my feet saw their fare share of funkamatronics. But of this year’s sold-out crew of near 50,000 “kids,” virtually all of them were present in that field, amassing the most diverse crowd I’ve seen in the fest’s three years of existence. Most of this was due to !!!’s ability to traverse from crooning soul to punk techno circus.

Regardless, witnessing filthy music lovers blacken their pale skin in the mud, with yuppies right alongside them in their brand new Chuck Taylors with the same desire, all in the name of dance and music, was a thing of beauty. !!! punctuated the sentiment with the club-violent bass super-tweaks of “Heart of Hearts,” shaking out a seizure of a chorus:

“‘Cause we’re all fumbling baby/fumbling in the dark/for a heart of hearts.”

The rest of the day truly echoed with cohesion. Whether it was whirling in the hair-raising vortex of Fleet Foxes and their stacks of CSNY harmonies, onlookers void of all inhibition and singing right there along. Or swallowing a sea of nappers dosing off to Bradford James Cox and his drones-of-locusts fuzz. Same for The Hold Steady, fully embodying Weezer-type, party-rock unity with epic ’80s pop hooks new LP, Stay Positive. While wily Jarvis Cocker took a moment to appreciate the female presence, sharing tales about how women appreciate sex just as much as men from a cut called “Girls Like It Too.”

Point is, there was always some demographic being represented somewhere, and legions of others smiling right there with them. Which really has not been the case in the past.

I’m sure Vampire Weekend were further afro-popping unity vibes, but I made a conscious decision to enjoy the real thing with Extra Golden and Elf Power on the side stage.

No Age deserves a mention for thrashing walls of punk distortion, come moonlight, but it was at the expense of the below young rock stars, who were apparently moshing too hard (later I found out that they had been caught boozing under-age). Still, the only exclusion act of the entire day.

As for closers Animal Collective, that same !!! crowd rolled up, turning the field this time into one giant indie-tribal rallying cry. Cheers to the Pfork staff for emanating the sound so pristine, waves of synth washed clean back to the edge of the park.

Probably the most erratic of Saturday’s bill, AC screamed melodic misfits, while legions interpreted it with hybrid dances…which always evolved into a type of high-knee rain shimmy. And just when the evening was ripe with transcendent grooves about, people just completely enjoying where there muscles would take them, Pfork had to go and commit non-unity act number two, by literally cutting the song short.

There was a ten o’ clock curfew to enforce.

Back to Nic Offer’s comment: I believe that’s something both the kids present and critics are privy to – lameness.

Stay tuned for Day Three for redemption…

Tags: !!!, Animal Collective, Elf Power, Extra Golden, Jarvis Cocker, The Hold Steady, Vampire Weekend
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Pitchfork Fest ’08: Looking Back On ‘Don’t Look Back’

July 19th, 2008

It took a field of hipsters to hold back reality t.v.’s favorite half of Public Enemy last night in Chicago’s Union Park, as Chuck D shot the gun on Pitchfork’s third effort in the festival realm with the opening diatribes of hip-hop’s seminal album, It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back, sans his counterpart.

Chuck D upon Flavor’s belated entrance: “Where the fuck were you on “Bring The Noise?”

Flavor Fav: “I don’t know Chuck, I was with the family.”

Apparently he was talking about his actual family, of which he helped set up shop back stage. His godson would later grace the platform and stare blankly as the duo fought the power. But at the moment, the sentiment quickly lost value as track by track of their twenty-year-old album deployed via their production team, The Bomb Squad. And politically-empowered ass shaking ensued.

If you aren’t hip to the London-based promoters All Tomorrow’s Parties series “Don’t Look Back,” in which fans are to precisely do just that in honor of full LPs that master the art of time and organization, Pfork Day One would baffle the mp3 mind.

Public Enemy were given closing honors, albeit marred by Flavor Fav’s self-promotion for his new season of Flavor Of Love, in which a sea of horn-rimmed-glassed music purists attacked with boos. Though it spurred the best comeback I’ve heard since grade school (“For all you mother fuckers boo-ing: What are you, ghosts or something?”) followed by an equally volatile performance of “Don’t Believe The Hype,” Flavor introducing it with a tale of a New York DJ trashing the PE name with an on air one-liner, “No more music by these suckers.”

Of course Chuck and Flavor would spit many more diatribe catchphrases, capped by a “Fuck George Bush,” a peace sign emblazoned “Fight The Power That Be,” and finally, “Only You Have The Power To Give Peace.”

Flashback to daylight, the band that Sonic Youth took many pages from, punk stalwarts Mission Of Burma tore through Vs., to start the fest proper. The 26-year-old influential tunes were lost amidst many of the new-gen, finger-on-the-pulsers present, but that didn’t stop frothy gems like “Dead Pool” and “Fun World” from inciting fist-pumps abound. And in one awesome parallel, a four-year-old girl frolicked in the grass with traffic-control headphones in tow, while guitarist Roger Miller careened licks from his own firing-range pair in place to keep the band from breaking up again.

Wedged in between MOB and Public Enemy, came the scrappy Lou Barlow guitar fuzz of Sebadoh’s Bubble & Scrape, the youngest of the track-for-track bunch (15 years) but the only responsible for building the foundations of emo, with its heart-on-sleeve tales of lost loves, paired with supreme guitar squall. Barlow was all smiles though, switching up the record order, referring to its host as “Pitch-fuck” and sharing tales of how much his wife hates his song about masturbation (“Homemade”). At one guitar-change point, he punkified the chorus of Tom Petty’s “The Waiting,” asserting to the crowd how great his vocal range is.

It was interesting to see the attention spans of the masses. Through all three of these bands sets, hipster disdain was pretty minimal, save for the pocket of kids too young for Mission Of Burma.

Stay tuned for Day Two and Day Three, as buzz bands compete 15 minutes apart from each other, where kids truly won’t look back. And Flavor Fav will not be there to entertain.

Tags: Chuck D, Flavor Flav, Mission of Burma, Public Enemy, Sebadoh, The Bomb Squad
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Fleet Foxes Perch Upon Chicago’s Millennium Park

July 18th, 2008

As the Pritzer Pavilion’s signature shards of steel swallowed the mid-summer eve’s sun last night (July 17), the budding Seattle five-piece howled an a cappella ode from their first EP Sun Giant, drawing all walks of the Central Park of Chicago denizens — especially wild-haired, barefoot children and their hip mothers — to a vortex of harmonizing energy.

Part of Music Without Borders, a free concert series sponsored by the city, time constraints would only allot the band a half hour, which is not such a bad thing for a crew enduring their very first tour. But the hipster Beach Boys vocal parts never missed a note. And coupled with Frank Gehry’s 120-foot, orchestral masterpiece of a venue, otherwise stomping grounds for the Chicago Symphony, every baroque guitar pluck and falsetto beamed pristine towards the sky.

Some of the infinite, mountain-quiet production was indeed naturally lost on tracks from their debut LP, but instead the Foxes improvised with jokes about each others’ “weird” dreams, and selected more rocking tunes from early works, with encore duties going to the Band Of Horses b-side-a-like, “Mykonos,” with percussion entering tribal mode as the moon fully replaced the sun. And par for their course, the five-piece slowed the track to a meditative pace before stacking vocal upon vocal around the park-outing-worthy, organic reverb exit phrase, “You go wherever you go today.”

Tags: Fleet Foxes
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Son Ambulance Rescue Pop In Chicago

July 16th, 2008

Vicarious experiences abound last night (July 15) in the candle-lit halls of Chicago’s Schubas, as Omaha’s psych-pop set, Son Ambulance, wafted out gems from Someone Else’s Déjà Vu, released last week.

Never ones to truly anchor themselves to one genre, the Saddle Creek six-piece whirled through week-fresh tales off their third LP, flirting with golden-era soul, Simon & Garfunkel folk and Latin flare like they were putting on all hats, until lead singer Joe Knapp gave the cue to turn on the pop-bliss sirens.

Unfortunately, a set of soft-cheer grazers at the outset kept the room library-quiet as they kicked off with “Juliet’s Son,” even with Knapp’s lyrical quip about ignoring pop charts. It took some flirts of sax and Knapp’s inner- Robert Smith on a track from ’04’s Key, the appropriately titled “Pleasure Now,” before the band made some friends with audience members’ feet, Knapp asserting, “I will do something to make you happy.”

From there they hit their stride, teasing ears with samba trickles on “Quand Tu Marches Seul,” before crescendoing into waves of synth and Korg blurs. Or finding knee-slapping Western-saloon vibes on “Awakening,” only to part its clouds with lofty Beach Boys harmonies; all to be capped with the saving grace closer, “Yesterday Morning,” Knapp assuring the crowd, “”This is every letter I never wrote/It’s every dream I’ve never told.”

We Asked: Joe Knapp named Son Ambulance in order of his life priorities – his child, and then his band. If you could title your life in two words, what would they be?

Tags: Son Ambulance
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Alkaline Trio Salute Their Hometown Fans With Blistering Chicago Set

July 10th, 2008

Though lead singer Matt Skiba suspected he was spat upon, and a few bass guitars putzed out on Dan Andriano, a hometown crowd pulled from all walks of Hot Topic-sponsored clientele never missed a cathartic chance to scream in sync as the Trio careened through an oeuvre-spanning, 18-song set at Chicago’s House of Blues last night (July 9).

Tattooed bleeding hearts hopped over rails from the get-go, turning newbie Agony & Irony album-opener, “Calling All Skeletons,” into a handclap-a-thon. While Skiba and crew angled their shred faces at the giant heart-and-skull banner shrouding the stage, turning to the masses just in time to share a lyric about how “fucked up and numb” we are.

Spanning songs from the indie-punk scrap of their 1998 debut, Goddamnit!, to present-day Epic refinement, the Trio whipped out rarities from b-sides (“Old School Reasons”) and Rock Against Bush compilations (“Warbrain”), meeting each tune with energy that simply wouldn’t quit. It didn’t matter how dark or obscure the material was — each fan knew every word to every tune, and punctuated it with balcony-façade palm slaps and pointed-finger salutes.

Still, absolute rockness honors could easily have been anointed twice – mid-set with From Here To Infirmary’s self-deprecating anthem “Armageddon,” and on the only ballad of the evening, “Radio,” with Skiba changing the plead-on-the knees chorus to “I’ve got a big fat fuckin’ bone to pick with you Chicago/In case you haven’t heard, I’m sick and tired of trying.” Your army of sad sacks are right with you, Alkaline.

Setlist:
“Calling All Skeletons”
“Nose Over Tail”
“I Lied My Face Off”
“I Found Away”
“In Vein”
“Warbrain”
“Hating Every Minute”
“Mercy Me”
“Armageddon”
“Old School Reasons”
“Private Eye”
“Do You Wanna Know”
“Goodbye Forever”
“This Is Getting Over You”
“Help Me”
“This Could Be Love”

Encore:
“Bleeder”
“Radio

We Asked: In Alkaline’s days of youth, the band would honor fans who took the ultimate step and tattooed themselves with the band’s insignia, the right to freely access any of their shows. What other band would you do that for today?

Tags: Alkaline Trio
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Sunfold

June 26th, 2008

What? Prior to Raleigh, NC-based outfit Annuals‘ blaze upon the blogosphere with their kitchen-bangery polyrhythmics and Broken Social Scene-esque six-piece crescendos, guitarist Kenny Florence held the songwriter reins with a project called Sedona, in which he explored his penchant for jazz and ’70s prog. With a name change to Sunfold, and the entire Annuals lineup switching ranks to support him, Florence swaps the band’s trademark brooding, know-no-boundary explosions for controlled pop bursts. Sunfold’s first offering, the Wet Zoo EP, dropped in April, and the band’s debut full-length, Toy Tugboats, will arrive July 22 via their own Terpsikhore Records.

Who? With Sunfold, Annuals frontman Adam Baker takes a backseat, sticking to percussion and programming duties, while guitarist Kenny Florence commandeers main vocals, and all the oddities that make the record — lap steel, cello, hammered dulcimer, organ, and pedal steel. And the remaining Annuals members stick to what they know best, with Mike Robinson on bass, Zack Oden on guitar, Anna Spence on keys, and Donzel Radford on drums.

Fun Fact: Florence acts as the in-house engineer for Annuals’ record label, Terpsikhore, and worked behind the knobs on Toy Tugboats. What’s more is that Florence is also co-authoring a music theory textbook.

Now Hear This: “Sara The American Winter” (DOWNLOAD MP3)

Tags: Sunfold
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Jim Ward’s Sleepercar Debuts in Chicago

June 19th, 2008

Post-hardcore fave Jim Ward always had a soft spot for his country forefathers, or so the sentiments went last night at Chicago’s Empty Bottle, where the Sparta frontman and At the Drive-In member swapped punk speed chops for lap steel and harp pulls. His screaming pipes, however, only stayed subdued for so long before exploding in hybrid proportions.

Supported by a cast of four Lonestar buddies, Ward actually kicked off into a cut from his solo EP, On My Way Back Home, a rather standard alt-country track dressed in belts of harmonies and chug-a-lug rhythms. But once the careening licks of the band’s debut single, “A Broken Promise,” took off, the singer’s neck veins surged with Cursive-like catharsis.

On the Sleepercar record, West Texas, Ward suppresses his fits down to a certain degree, but that was hardly the case last night. When the band let loose, it was like a runaway pick-up truck spewing dust at a blistering Texas sun. And even though the crowd was all slim-pickins and corner chatters, all the hopeful heartache tales of tracks like “Fences Down,” “Kings & Compromises,” and newbie B-side “Heart” never saw reprieves from rockness.

We Asked: In the world of cars, ‘sleepers’ are hot rods disguised as ordinary rides. Taking the metaphor to music, who’s your favorite unassuming rocker with an epic sound?

Tags: Jim Ward, Sleepercar
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Music For the Masses

June 6th, 2008

When it comes to outdoor summer music festivals, Chicago has become pro.

There’s a line from a documentary on local rock poet Thax Douglas wherein music venue the Hideout’s co-owner Tim Tuten denounces cities like L. A. and New York: “ When everybody looks to either coast to find some kind of creative person, they’re not going to find it there. They’re going to find it in a place like Chicago … where there’s nothing, where there’s flat land and banal people.”

Whether you agree or disagree, it’s fair to say that Chicago has managed to create a multitude of diversions to keep locals entertained amid the bleak flatlands—especially during the warm, sunny summer months. The best part? Most summer festivals celebrate emerging local talent while extending a warm welcome to international acts, creating a delicate balance and ensuring that, except for Fourth of July weekend, we don’t have to step outside the city limits to enjoy a well-rounded summer of good music, good food and good company.

The three pillars that first brought the music—the Gospel (1984), Blues (1983) and Jazz fests (1978)—are aces at fitting the lollapalooza city into each respective genre’s history. Millennium Park’s Gospel Fest shoots the gun May 30-June 1. “This year, Dexter Walker is on the [bill] with a 95-voice choir—I think that’s called growth,” cites Festival Coordinator Pam Morris. Also chiming in this season are tributes to the Chicago-bred Queen of Gospel, Albertina Walker, and headlining slots from Detroit’s Clark Sisters and L.A.’s Mighty Clouds of Joy.

The Blues Fest will wail away in Grant Park June 5–8 and is a bit more integrated, as Chicago nurtured the modern birth of the blues. Barry Dolins, deputy director of the Mayor’s Office of Special Events, has been programming the lineup since 1985 and keeps the city in central focus while upholding his responsibility to answer how blues is the foundation of all American music. “From the icons to the torchbearers of the next generation, we take the responsibil- ity to heart,” Dolins says. None other than Muddy Waters, the “father of Chicago blues,” will be honored on the fest’s first night. Other standouts during the weekend include New Orleans stalwart accordionist Buckwheat Zydeco, Koko Taylor and the legendary B.B. King, who makes his first appearance to the fest in more than 20 years.

The Chicago Jazz Festival (August 28– 31) follows suit by splicing sets from the creator of free-form jazz, Ornette Coleman, and be-bop pioneer Sonny Rollins with Chicago’s own saxophone king, Edward Wilkerson. Turning a modern slant, the fest also pays respect to the local club circuit that keeps blood warm in the winter. “ You might have an orchestra at the park, but maybe an evening quintet at the [Green] Mill,” says Jazz Festival Coordinator Jennifer Washington. “ We want the clubs to benefit [from Jazz Fest], because they’re [promoting] 365 days a year.”

The ultimate ode to local eats, the Taste of Chicago (June 27–July 6), is really the antithesis of banality, at least in the culinary world. But it also promotes music: Grant Park will welcome all-stars this year like Chaka Khan, Stevie Wonder and Joss Stone while giving a nod to emo-hit hometown-wonders the Plain White T ’s.

But you’ll have to not only leave the city but the state come Fourth of July weekend if you want to camp out surrounded by good music. Three hours north of Chicago is Rothbury, small-town Michigan’s offering to the Midwestern fun this summer. Not only are jam bands like Widespread Panic and the Dave Matthews Band headlining, a hodgepodge of other acts spanning alt rock, hip-hop and electronica (311, Snoop Dogg, Thievery Corporation) are sure to appease the masses. And it’ll all be in the interest of green: Think diesel-run power generators, compostable utensils at food vendors, biodegradable trash bags and random prizes for carpooling festivalgoers. Jeremy Stein, Rothbury’s event producer, reveals that a discounted Amtrak fare will be available to further reduce carbon footprints, expanding the draw to Chicago- ans. “A lot of the Chicago events are either city festivals or street fairs or the lakefront festivals,” Stein says. “Of course, summers in Chicago are fantastic. But this is kind of a quick-drive destination outside of Chicago that’s the full camping experience.”

Back in town, the two main events everyone’s gearing up for may as well be camping events, what with all the trekking across parks over multiple days. We are, of course, talking about Pitchfork and Lollapalooza. Pitchfork (July 18–20) uses its hype-generating abilities to stock Union Park with two days of burgeoning creatives like British knob-twiddlers the Fuck Buttons, poor Ivy Leaguers that were so 2007 before 2008, Vampire Weekend, and indie folkie Bon Iver — in addition to stalwarts Public Enemy, Jarvis Cocker and Dinosaur Jr. But bands from Chicago, where Pitchfork is headquartered, also get attention. “ We normally try to do a few local acts for our third stage to try and keep Chicago involved,” assures Pitchfork Associate Publisher Chris Kaskie, who helps oversee the festival. “ We definitely think there’s a thriving music scene here, and we want to make sure that we can go out and program bands that make sense.” And Hunter Husar of local act Mahjongg pledges to “bring [Chicago’s] children out of the grid and into the sphere,” with a “new school of local talent.”

And then there is the beast that is Lollapalooza (August 1–3), which some say is counteracting the trend of local diversions with near-$200 ticket prices and corporate sponsors. “ We do the best job we can to manage the calendar, to put local bands on with the national acts,” says Charles Attal, Lollapalooza co- producer and talent buyer. “Some years there will be more than others. It all depends on what bands are touring or not touring. We always try to support local music. Chicago’s one of the No. 1 music markets in the world. It’s a great city, a great music town, a great park — it all lines up.” A look at the lineup this year reveals international icons like Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails, but other top spots are given to Chicagoans Kanye West and Wilco, with daytime stagings for local hip-hop newbies the Cool Kids, Kid Sister and DJ Bald Eagle. Of the plethora of other bands, the fest also makes room for a competition called Last Band Standing, where city scrappers can compete with artists around the world for a spot on stage.

And really, even if headliners like Rage Against the Machine have nothing to do with the city, 100,000 fists in the air screaming along to “ Bulls On Parade” certainly doesn’t feed into our bleak stereotypes. Maybe the Hideout’s Tuten was right, after all.

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Catch the Buzz: Ponytail

June 3rd, 2008

Who? Bridging the gap between dolphin squeak and Yoko Ono shriek, Ponytail vocalist Molly Siegel rounds out this genre-bending quartet of Baltimore art-punks, who all met at the Maryland Institute College of Art. And sophomore set Ice Cream Spiritual, out June 17 via We Are Free, may launch this act’s blustering freak-outs from obscurity to center stage with its rocketing firestorms of dueling, treble-heavy guitars and speedster Joy Division-like drums, that despite their rigid rhythms, leak all over listeners’ ears by flaunting both psychedelic and mathematic influences. A summation in the band’s words: “Easy, Breezy, Beautiful.”

Their latest: Album number two, Ice Cream Spiritual, drops June 17.

Recommended if you like… Ecstatic Sunshine, Boredoms, Dragons of Zynth

Now Hear This: “Celebrate the Body Electric (It Came From an Angel)” (DOWNLOAD MP3)

Tags: Ponytail
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Tilly and the Wall

June 1st, 2008

What? Recognized as the band with a tap dancer instead of a drummer, Team Love’s flagship kid-spirit actTilly and the Wall — see debut LP Wild Like Children, Sesame Street appearance, etc. — are always ones to disguise their sweet cheerleader-harmonies in tales of disillusionment and unrequited love. And what began as lo-fi sessions in Conor Oberst’s basement graduated to the Mike Mogis (Bright Eyes) production treatment and has now become O, the outfit’s third full-length due June 17.

Textures abound under the Mogis helm. Jamie Pressnall’s tap fills thunder over conventional drums, and oodles of guitar effects support electronic tinkerings and vocal overdubs. Case in point: “Pot Kettle Black.” “[We were] naturally going in a way to try and make it more one kind of sound,” Derek Pressnall, also ofFlowers Forever, told SPIN.com. “We were consciously thinking about how we want to have drums, taps, and electronics all happening at once, without you thinking there’s drums, taps, and electronic beats all going on at once.” Trickery indeed, but sonic deception never sounded so good.

Who? Georgia-bred transplants Derek Pressnall (guitar) and Nick White (keys) melded into the remnants of Conor Oberst’s first band, Park Ave., accruing the talents of Jamie Pressnall (now Derek’s wife on tap shoe) and Neely Jenkins (vocals). Kianna Alarid (vocals/bass) was drawn from fellow Omaha collective, Magic Kiss. All five share songwriting duties.

Fun Fact: O‘s opener, “Tall Tall Grass,” was a troublesome tune dating back to the band’s first EP — never fleshed out until now. Derek explains to SPIN.com: “It finally came alive. I have a personal connection to that song. It’s like the story of our band, emotionally and lyrically. But it’s also a love song to music. And a love song to friendship. And a love song to a lover.”

Now Hear This: “Pot Kettle Black” (DOWNLOAD MP3)

Tags: Tilly and the Wall
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Staff Writer

May 30th, 2008

The punk younger step-sibling of Rolling Stone, SPIN’s mark on the national music scene as a monthly magazine was ineffable to those that wanted to dive deep into more Talking Heads than another Bruce Springsteen profile. Launched in 1985 with its teeth firmly cut in the underground, the mag would grow to feature award-winning coverage of everything from outsider art and politics to Japanese manga.

Thriving in the dot com era at a time when the media company was experimenting with a localized, national publishing strategy, I shuffled from Rolling Stone, beat-reporting on gigs predominantly in New York City by night, scribing new band profiles by day, eventuating falling in line as a Chicago correspondent.

Highlights:

Conor Oberst

Tapping into the same spiritual curiosity he sought in a town full of psychics on Bright Eyes’ Cassadaga, Conor Oberst seeks solstice in the footsteps of Mexican lore.

Lemonheads Revisit ‘Ray’ in Chicago

Fallen alt-rock pinup Evan Dando put the shred on nostalgia last night at Chicago as the Lemonheads’ 1992 breakout album, ‘It’s a Shame About Ray’, turns old enough to drive.

Food For Animals

Somewhere amidst the glossed over experimentations of El-P and the digital firestorm currently being explored in grime lies the Food For Animals sound.

Catch the Buzz: A.M.

Just-over-one-minute fuzz atop American-bred Oi! as if Stephen Malkmus was forever caught in a punk conniption fit.

Dimitri From Paris

Subtleties of chicka-chicka-wicka-wicka get velvet-slick when Istanbul-born Parisian-bred DJ/producer Dimitris Yerasimos brings disco and funk’s most sweaty golden hits onto the dance floor.

Los Campesinos! Break Hearts in Chicago

May 28th, 2008

Two weeks into their U.S. tour behind debut full-length Hold On Now, Youngster…, Welsh brat-punkers Los Campesinos! commandeered an indie rock cacophony, reserving no amount of glockenspiel tinks, Korg blasts, or violin pulls to reach maximum heartache and squawk last night (May 27) at Chicago’s Empty Bottle.

Ra Ra Riot tugs the genre with Morrissey croon, but frontman Gareth Campesinos! and his six other musical compatriots sharing mic duties sought solstice in Art Brut cheer and Pavement breakdowns, the latter which the band gave a nod to mid-set with a Malkmus-worthy, witastic rendition of Slanted & Enchanted B-side, “Frontwards.”

Otherwise, the punk wunderkinds drew heavily from Hold On Now, Youngster…: “You! Me! Dancing!” and “My Year in Lists” came supported with audience shakes and handclaps, while the band whipped out glockenspiels and dual cowbells over colliding guitars. Pop fury was prompted by bleeding lyrics — “If this sentimental movie marathon has taught us one thing / it’s that the opposite of true love is as follows / Reality!” — and followed anecdotes about why one should break up with their lover. Ah, young drama.

Likewise, the band closed shop with “2007: The Year Punk Broke (My Heart),” stacking loop upon loop of guitars, exiting the stage in a sea of feedback and drone. If this is what love hath wrought in 2007, someone do us a favor and put the vice on these kids’ hearts once again.

We asked: “Send me stationary to make me horny,” crusades the opening shout of Los Campesinos!’s latest single, “My Year in Lists.” What’s the hottest piece of mail (text/email apply) you’ve put in post?

Tags: Los Campesinos!
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The Submarines Pour Some Sugar in Chicago

May 23rd, 2008

Blake Hazard brought her Pippi Longstocking smiles and threads to Chicago, batting her eyelashes to husband John Dragonetti’s guitar hooks from the duo’s heartache ditty, “Peace and Hate,” before blossoming into eight out of ten post-marriage-bliss ditties off April’s sophomore release, Honeysuckle Weeks.

Gone were the melodic diatribes of self-loathing and wrongdoings from the band’s last album, Declare a New State. Instead, Hazard sprinkled xylophone fills over lines like “Love is a swimming pool with no bottom” (“Swimming Pool”), while John emoted guitar sentiments, his eyes fixed on Blake’s.

It was almost too sweet, with a stage scattered with Malibu-lit flowers. If it hadn’t been for “1940,” an ultra-seductive jazz number slathered in strings and back-alley creep-up percussion, it would have been an evening overly packed with Hollywood-ending kitsch. But they still decided to close shop with the more reality-checked, Killers-type shuffler “Xavia,” sharing call-and-response verses with the crowd: “Everyone in this room / They’ve got troubles too / And secret stories and lives that we never knew.”

Supporting act Headlights, from downstate Champaign, IL, pulled a switcheroo and actually headlined the evening with a lights-out, three-guitar and tambourine assault, straight out of Annuals’ handbook, smashing home most of March’s Some Racing, Some Stopping.

We asked: The Submarines are a rock duo that’s married. To what song would you walk down the aisle?

Tags: The Submarines
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Catch the Buzz: Joe Pug

May 14th, 2008

Who? Chicago’s Joe Pug admittedly sounds like the wooden stool and mic-less icons before him, but it’s all in genuine homage to days spent confiding in his father’s record collection. “I’ve come to know the wish list of my father / I’ve come to know the shipwrecks where he wished,” beams the grainy pipes of this old soul trapped in a young heart on “Hymn 101,” his airy wisps reminiscent of the Boss and Woody Guthrie, though simply the throat the good God gave him. And the circle of folk certainly continues with his seven-song, bar-chord to finger-pluck debut of blue collar, rambling-on-social-consciousness ditties and heartfelt ballads.

His latest: Nation of Heat EP, out this week (May 13)

Recommended if you like… Bob Dylan, Paul Westerberg, John Prine

Now Hear This: “Hymn #101” (DOWNLOAD MP3)

Tags: Joe Pug
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The Cure

May 14th, 2008

What? To support the Sept. 13 release of the band’s yet-to-be titled 13th record, Robert Smith and his don’t-call-’em-goth-cronies are releasing a single each week for four consecutive months. Like others in their vast catalogue — synth-ridden, first charting (1980) single “A Forest,” so-sweet-it-hurts “Pictures of You,” “Just Like Heaven,” and “Catch,” and even the guitar-less, kitchenware rhythms of “Close To Me” — newbie “The Only One” is a lost romantic. And though flipside “NY Trip” is astray somewhere in their post-punk days, glossed over with fancy fretwork and vocal delays, it’s still on-the-knees desperate for a heart — Smith’s trademark.

Who? Currently, the Cure are frontman Smith, multi-instrumentalist Porl Thompson, bassist Simon Gullop, and drummer Jason Cooper. Smith and Thompson are the only two members who saw day one, 32 years ago.

Fun Fact: All four 13th-of-the-month B-sides will not be on the full-length release, but Smith says [viaBillboard.com] that the album will arrive with tunes “about relationships, the material world, politics and religion,” and will be “very upfront and dynamic.” “People will be surprised how stripped-down and in-your-face the record is,” he said.

Tags: The Cure
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Cool Kids Throw a Pre-‘Bake Sale’ in Chicago

May 8th, 2008

The Inglish-Rocks team — Cool Kids’ Evan “Chuck Inglish” Ingersoll and Antoine “Mikey Rocks” Reed — opened with a little fiscal advice on off-album track “Gettin’ It,” telling last night’s (May 8) be-seen crowd “there’s no pocket full of cash to be thrown in the air,” before slathering clunky-ill beats over trademark odes to BMXs and Fruity Pebbles. The evening came as a home turf treat before the two emcees and one DJ embark on a coast-to-coast mission supporting new EP, The Bake Sale (out May 20).

While a crew of Heffner Bunny-worthy waitresses mixed Snow Queen vodka cocktails and danced on reserved tables, a pit enclave of hand-in-the-air hardcore fans shot back choruses to jams predominantly off 2007’s Totally Flossed Out EP. Ingersoll’s trademark golden-shades chain dangled about fans’ heads as he leaned down from the lofted stage on slow-mo fumbler “Gold and a Pager,” before taking set breaks to give shoutouts to at least three birthdays — failing to mention this writer’s — and one wedding anniversary. Meanwhile Reed brought his “88” hot-steppin’ shoes, dance-er-taining clubgoers now propped in booths and chairs.

After closing shop with a new beat straight off an early ’90’s Jock Jams comp, hinting at a new slice of retro-pace, Ingersoll assured his Spin hosts that we’re a “cool magazine” and is his publication of choice in airports, before giving ETA clues for the duo’s debut LP as “before November.” Patience is in fact a virtue.

We asked: Cool Kids will support new EP, The Bake Sale, with a second by the name of That’s Stupid, both of which lead up to debut full-length, When Fish Ride Bicycles. Make like a Cool Kid and bamboozle the three into a narrative.

Tags: The Cool Kids
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Contributing Writer

May 6th, 2008

A monthly lifestyle and entertainment rag for the Windy City and beyond, UR Chicago was in print from 1997-2008 before consolidating into a web-only operation. I was on the contributing writer crew during the thick of the printed days, when in-depth reporting was its lifeblood.

Highlights:

Music For the Masses

When it comes to outdoor summer music festivals, Chicago has become pro.

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Lemonheads Revisit ‘Ray’ in Chicago

May 2nd, 2008

Photo: Laura Grey

Fallen alt-rock pinup Evan Dando put the shred on nostalgia last night (May 1) at Chicago’s Abbey Pub as the Lemonheads’ 1992 breakout album, It’s a Shame About Ray, turns old enough to drive.

Donning a hooded sweatshirt, Dando opened curtain with a feedback-caked version of “Rockin’ Stroll,” gussying up the old album opener with a quicker tempo and a couple more right-clicks on the amp; however, the tune was still stuck in that early ’90’s time warp between grunge apathy and pop bliss, evoking a throwback evening straight out of a My So Called Life episode.

Of course the die-hard fans ate it up, reliving the shaggy opus track-by-track; “Bit Part,” as well as the album’s title track, saw the mic turned over to the crowd come chorus time, a pit of 30-year-old adults bouncing back to their carefree youths.

Around track eight, “Hanna & Gabi,” Dando’s bass and drum cohorts left the performance to the frontman. Whereas his power trio was killing all the alt-country twang and Replacements-era punk subtleties that made It’s a Shame… such a classic, Dando flashed his singer/songwriter side, commanding himself like a young Bruce Springsteen. And later, “Frank Mills,” the first sway from It’s a Shame…, and a shoegazing cover of Misfits thrasher “Skulls,” showed promise of a second coming for Dando and crew.

But notably absent was that little post-release B-side by Atlantic, “Mrs. Robinson,” a classic cover tune that Dando has been known to despise. A overheard fan offered his two-cents: “I don’t know honey, maybe Paul Simon said if they ever play ‘Mrs. Robinson’ again, he’ll kill them.”

Tags: Lemonheads
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Dan Le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip

April 22nd, 2008

What? Despite its blasphemous denunciations of rock’s most prophetic figures — the Beatles, Radiohead, Led Zeppelin, and many others — this British MC and DJ duo’s breakout Mike Skinner-meets-Fatboy Slim key-plunker “Thou Shalt Always Kill,” is more a sprawling attack on pretension and hype than a too-cool-for-school declaration. “Thou shalt think for yourselves,” spits Scroobius Pip, before capping endless verses of grime-wit and pop-culture commandments with a reiteration of the track’s title; ‘kill,’ as in, “Yo, you killed it, bro.” And with rainbow-range synths, stumbling beats, and street-poet pacing, Dan and Scroobius’ social slaughter continues forth on tracks from their debut full-length, Angles, set to drop stateside in May.

Who? London-based knob-twiddler Dan Le Sac, who booked a poet from Essex dubbed Scroobius Pip over two years ago to open one of his shows. Dan immediately took a liking to Scroobius’ lyrics, and soon kicked up a MySpace page that quickly drew more traffic than the two artist’s individual sites — thus the DJ vs. MC battle was born. Though SXSW saw their first proper stateside appearance, Coachella will shoot sunbeams on the duo this Friday, April 25.

Fun Fact: “Thou Shalt Always Kill,” is full of contradictions; one minute Joe Strummer’s name is not to be taken in vein, and the next, the Clash is “just a band.” But Scroobius defends himself: “That’s kind of the point of it,” he told UK radio show Loose Cannons, “we wanted to do like 30 [bands] so no one would listen and agree to everything. ‘I don’t agree with that, therefore I’m going to make my own opinion’ as opposed to going ‘everything on there is exactly right, I agree with everything.'”

Now Hear This: “Thou Shalt Always Kill”

Tags: Dan le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip
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Destroyer’s ‘Dreams’ Find ‘Trouble’ in Chicago

April 18th, 2008

Ground control tried to touch base with Major Dan Bejar last night (April 17) at Chicago’s Logan Square Auditorium, where scores of indie-literati whooped in glee as the multi-tasking — Frog Eyes, Swan Lake, New Pornographers — Canadian virtuoso surveyed tunes from his eighth studio record, Trouble In Dreams, with team Destroyer — but unfortunately Bejar was lost in rock’n’roll space.

Snaking trademark cryptic verses, Bejar teased the fiction/reality realm with Trouble opener “Blue Flower/Blue Flame,” confiding in the crowd, “A woman by another name is not a woman / I’ll tell you what I mean by that / Maybe not in seconds flat, maybe not today.” It was the only tune of the night that allowed for the same textures laid down in the studio, before touring drummer Scott Morgan mistook the historic ballroom for Madison Square Garden, gorilla-arming over synths and Ebows.

Even Bejar was a bit rock-o-tastic, speeding up rhythms on guitar, shaking his Fraggle Rock mane about a good six tunes into the Trouble-heavy set. And it translated on epic stop-and-stumbler “The State,” madcapping Bejar’s quirky las and das with heel-stomp punctuation. But the onstage ferocity absolutely smothered the sunshine and shadow acoustics of the title track from 2006’s Destroyer’s Rubies.

Towards the set’s tail end, the band was evidently wearing out slightly on filler tracks pulled from nearly every album released by Merge, honors going to the lone encore “Self Portrait With Thing (Tonight Is Not Your Night),” emphasized by Morgan’s supreme dynamics between snare bombs and Bejar’s Shakespearean babble. But be forewarned ticket holders, Bejar is taking very literal cues from the Destroyer moniker this time ’round.

We asked: Considering Destroyer’s latest album title, Trouble In Dreams, what’s the worst nightmare you’ve had?

Tags: Destroyer
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Kimya Dawson’s Punk Preschool Hits Chicago

April 15th, 2008

“I was told you little ones have to be home at a certain time, so I’ll play as fast as I can,” said Kimya Dawson, two soft-spoken ditties into a 25-track setlist last night (April 14) at Chicago’s new best-kept Mansion venue — ssshh! — in the city’s tree-lined Emerald Necklace neighborhood.

Switching gears as an intimate gathering sat criss-cross-apple-sauce, Dawson plucked heavy-hearted cuts on adult inhibitions (“Velvet Rabbit”), politics (“Fire”), and deflated hearts (“Viva La Persistence”), before explaining that her mother was headed to surgery to have tumors removed the next day, thus punctuating the chorus of “My Mom”: “As long as she is haunted she’ll never get strong / My mom needs you gone,” Dawson lamented.

But after the get-well hump, Kimya returned to her punkette kid role, flaunting tracks from her upcoming children’s album, Alphabutt e. pee. “Bobby-O,” the “skinny, younger brother of Fabio,” practiced “jumping jacks in his pink speedo” when not riding “a horse in Mexico,” rhymed the frazzle-haired poet to an explosion to giggles.

With a nod from the Mansion staff, Dawson knew the venue’s all-age curfew loomed, but in punk fashion, laughed it off with a good five more tunes, including one of the night’s three Juno tracks, “My Rollercoaster.” Next, after a medley mashing Edwin McCain’s cheeseball hit “I’ll Be Your Crying Shoulder” with Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again,” Dawson exited with final a prayer for her mother, matching her eclectic persona to her equally diverse catalogue, and proving to the kids even soft-spoken, child-friendly, and aging punks still break curfew.

We Asked: As you probably know, Kimya Dawson, a longtime folk-punk icon, contributed many tunes to blockbuster film Juno. Considering the movie’s commercial success, do you think Dawson has sold out? Or have you witnessed backlash to her music in the film’s wake?

Tags: Kimya Dawson
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Dimitri From Paris

April 12th, 2008

What’s the Deal? Subtleties of chicka-chicka-wicka-wicka get velvet-slick when Istanbul-born Parisian-bred DJ/producer Dimitris Yerasimos brings disco and funk’s most sweaty golden hits onto the dance floor. Paying tribute to the masters that spawned the genre back in early-’90’s Chicago, Dimitri takes spiritual staples like Barry White, Marvin Gaye, and Jean Carn, trickles down a little synth, maybe some samba and jazz, and watches the booties shake. Not to be confused with his 2000 comp, A Night at the Playboy Mansion, the double-disc Return to the Playboy Mansion, which dropped on April 8, floats into ears like steam off a hot grotto night.

Who? Yerasimos broke into the turntable realm at the French station Radio 7 in the mid-’80s, and via numerous gigs, quickly caught the eye of fashion empires like Chanel and Jean-Paul Gaultier, soon glamorizing their adverts. Along with two studio albums that notch all-time top ten status by house critics, double-digit compilations and remixes of everyone from Bjork to New Order, odds are you’ve heard him in the proverbial house.

Fun Fact: For further style cues, look to the soundtracks of movie cult classics like Breakfast at Tiffany’sand The Party, both of which Dimitri has a heart for.

Now Hear This: “Marvin & Tammi ‘Ain’t No Mountain’ (DFP re edit)” DONWLOAD MP3

Tags: Dimitri From Paris
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Catch the Buzz: A.M.

April 10th, 2008

Who: This power trio comprising bassist Bradley, drummer Karin, and guitarist Fonzie (all three provide vocals) sling just-over-one-minute fuzz atop American-bred Oi! as if Stephen Malkmus was forever caught in a punk conniption fit. Chords come in threes — tops — behind rocker-chic drumming a la Janet Weiss, reducing inhibitions to adolescent freak-outs with that brand new Fender Strat and hum-rattle amp. Doesn’t matter if you understand what they’re saying, so long as you’re there to scream along.

Their latest: A.M./No Paws (No Lions) split 7″ out now via Silencio Recordings

Recommended if you like… Pavement, Richard Hell, the Replacements

Now hear this: “Message To Her” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web: myspace.com/theeam

Tags: A.M.
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The Black Keys

April 2nd, 2008

What’s the Deal? With Gnarls Barkley’s Danger Mouse at the production helm, the Black Keys’ fifth album, Attack & Release, swaps the power duo’s trademark lo-fi for a taste of the hi. This is not the mud-slinging, runaway pick-up blues truck you whipped bottles at back on 2003’s Thick Freakness or 2006’s Magic Potion. Nor a soulful return to the Mississippi Delta banks of debut The Big Come Up. “Psychotic Girl” with its uber-clean slides, trip-hop pace and eerie gospel back-up choruses should be on St. Elsewhere, and “Remember When (Side A)” opens with a drum machine and a theremin. But before you get pissy, fans of yore, avert your ears to outlier “I Got Mine” (QUICKTIME | WINDOWS MEDIA) for pure analog fury, complete with off-mic yelps.

Who? Small town Ohioans Dan Auerbach (vocals and guitar) and Patrick Carney (drums) trimmed lawns as college dropouts before a botched edging job cost them their employment. But by that time their Midwestern snarl had already been unleashed, and tours were taking shape.

Fun Fact: The duo take their name from a schizophrenic artist who used the phrase to label people who “weren’t quite right.”

On the Web: theblackkeys.com

Now Hear This: “I Got Mine” QUICKTIME | WINDOWS MEDIA

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The Ting Tings Strut for Chicago’s Fashionistas

March 21st, 2008

Fresh on the heels of SXSW, Manchester’s newest Columbia signees the Ting Tings were all spunk-cheer last night (March 20) during a gig for budding fashion entrepreneurs in Chicago’s warehouse district. As videos illustrating select designers’ garments rolled, the Ting Tings commandeered an evening of brand-name chic and beat-infused networking.

Mouthpiece Katie White maintained a high level of energy throughout the six-tune gig, grinding along to breakout single “Great DJ” (stream it here) cuing sticksman Jules De Martino into the beat and chorus with her every move. With wide-eyes and smiles, the crowd was relatively tame during the set of tracks off forthcoming debut We Started Nothing, save a drum-less rendition of “Traffic Light,” which saw De Martino lash out at a pocket of chatterers: “Oi! Shut the fuck up! We’ve got someone singing here.” From there, however, the Ting Tings reclaimed the helm, White rambunctiously smacking the cowbell on sass-rap closer “That’s Not My Name,” rattling the band’s duct tape insignia off the bass drum on to the floor. No worries White, we’ll remember your name.

Tags: The Ting Tings
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The Ting Tings

March 11th, 2008

What’s the Deal: These glitzy popsters’ upbeat sonic thrusts club-punching guitars and adolescent coos, at times sounding as if Kylie Minogue attended indie-rock training camp and graduated with honors in handclaps and hipster sass. Frontwoman Katie White is pure spunk, spinning six-string jangles into breakout singles (“Great DJ”), when not rocketing lyrics about bitter breakups (“Shut Up & Let Me Go”) and proper epithet techniques (“That’s Not My Name”). Drummer Jules De Martino rocks rhythms skinny-jean clean, while a little cowbell, plunky key jabs, and a self-deprecating album title — We Started Nothing — craft a DIY chime.

Who: White and De Martino began the Ting Tings in 2006 after an ill-fated career in Dear Eskiimo, and after their fair share of underground hype, signed to Columbia for the release of debut We Started Nothing in May. Fans headed to Austin this week can catch the band at one of their five shows: The KCRW showcase at Buffalo Billiards March 12 (11 P.M.), Fader Party March 13 (2 P.M.), BrooklynVegan showcase March 13 (8 P.M.), the Stubb’s showcase March 14 (8 P.M.), or at the Diesel Party March 15 (10 P.M.).

Fun Fact: At the Ting Tings’ Glastonbury set, Radio One DJ Huw Stephens prophesized the band will be headlining the festival come ’09, quipping, “If that’s not true, then I’ll eat some mud.”

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Cryptacize

February 26th, 2008

Who? Formerly of Deerhoof, Chris Cohen (vocals/guitars) met Nedelle Torrisi (strings/vocals) while writing and recording under the Curtains moniker, where Torrisi, now a triple-album artist in her own right, was a just a backing vocalist. The two recruited fellow Bay Area drummer Michael Carreira via YouTube after seeing a couple videos of just his hands working the sticks. Out Feb. 19 via Asthmatic Kitty, Dig That Treasure, marks the band’s studio full-length debut.

What’s the Deal? Much like the Curtains, Cryptacize prefer their melodies linger as long as possible — “Every note is an unfinished song,” croon Nedelle and Chris on the wood block prancer “Cosmic Sing-A-Long.” While album opener “Stop Watch” teases with a breathy, lullaby-like chorus, “How Did the Actor Laugh” is loaded in impeding bass drums and “We’ll Never Dream Again” floats with spacey electronic guitar sweeps, which recall the same kind of minimalist fantasy trip through the land of Oz it was inspired by — part Taken By Trees stark melodrama, part Broadway musical quirk. Nedelle shares of the vibe with SPIN.com, “When you awake from a pleasant dream and you know that you can’t go back…you’re really sad. But also happy…it’s confusing. These are the feelings that makes us want to play music.”

Fun Fact: Cryptacize pulled the title of Dig That Treasure from an obscure 1958 musical of the same name penned by Chris Cohen’s father.

Now Hear This:
Cryptacize – “No Coins” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
Cryptacize at MySpace

Tags: Cryptacize, The Curtains
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Camphor

February 8th, 2008

Who? New York-based composer, singer, producer, and songwriter Max Avery Lichtenstein got his start punctuating emotions on indie film scores immersed in tales of schizophrenic mothers (Tarnation), heroin addicts (Jesus’ Son) and incest (The King). Dubbing his new project Camphor, long-player Drawn to Dust, out via the Friendly Fire label April 1, is his first step into traditional album land.

What’s the Deal? The lush melodies of Drawn to Dust explores Wabi-sabi, a Japanese idea rooted in finding beauty and grace in the world’s most ugly details. To channel all this greatness, Lichtenstein has recruited some of indie rock’s finest multi-instrumentalists — Gretta Cohn (Cursive, Bright Eyes), D. James Goodwin (Sol Seppy), Ryan Smith (A Million Billion) and Kevin Thaxton (The Silent League) — to gracefully flesh out these 13 take-me-as-I-am tales. From the rich organ-led folk number “Mistakes” to slinky snare-shuffler “So Lucky,” Lichtenstein’s pipes shine like a beacon of bedroom four-track purity. Additional outliers like the bold flamenco guitars of “Castaway” and the bright mandolin pop of “Confidence Shattered” also tap into Lichtenstein’s subdued magic à la Beck’s Sea Change.

Fun Fact: Lichtenstein is a trained trapeze artist. He tells SPIN.com, “I figure the circus would make a fine career if my musical inspiration ever dries up.”

Now Hear This:
Camphor – “The Sweetest Tooth” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
Camphor at MySpace
camphor.net

Tags: Camphor
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The Virgins Incite a Ra Ra Riot

February 4th, 2008

“All we ever think about is sex / Nothing really matters to me now,” drawled the lips of a leather jacket-clad Donald Cumming and his crew of Virgins. The words came from a new Strokes-type feet-shuffler called “Fast Times,” which lived up to its name in the pit of Chicago’s Schubas venue Friday night (Feb. 1), while a fleet of underage girls teased their hair with one hand and snapped digital mementos with the other.

All five Virgins tracks, with their tales of twenty-something promiscuity and big-city social cliques, flash big neon Strokes-like bulbs (albeit steeped in blues). But now that the full-length record-less quartet has had a little time to brood over what they essentially consider their demos, cuts like “Radio Christiane” and “One Week of Danger” saw some bold new cymbal and guitar fills. Like watching a teenage Stones strut through some half-assed Clash covers, the four also winked in to a funkified new intro of “Rich Girls,” with Cumming confiding to the already hot-stepping crowd, “I’ll tell you everything I know, every little thing I know.” Show headliner Ra Ra Riot was now put in the backseat of a steamy car situation, however the six-piece cunningly etched out a seductive message with a string-driven, Cure-tinged cover of Kate Bush’s “Hounds of Love.” Guess Cumming was right about sex on the brain.

We asked: Word has it that Atlantic skipped the foreplay and signed the Virgins before catching a single performance. Do you have a favorite unsigned band that demands the same kind of love right now?

Tags: The Virgins
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Cornelius Reveals ‘Sensuous’ Side

January 26th, 2008

Sensory overload met beatnik jazz yelps as the Japanese Beck kicked off an exclusive five-date extravaganza at the Windy City’s Metro last night (Jan. 23). A strobe flashed “The Cornelius Group…Sensuous…Synchronized Show!” across a giant white silkscreen, and a fuzz-heavy riff off the Mario Brothers‘ theme song teased fans before Cornelius, a.k.a. Keigo Oyamada, opened things up with “Breezin’,” a cut from his latest LP, Sensuous.

Spawned from crisp and clean studio magic, the latest addition to Cornelius’ oeuvre was recorded on the highest bit possible, 96 kHz, which made for interesting live adaptations, notably the album’s title track, which was used as the set’s capstone, while the pop-noise tech genius simultaneously plucked and detuned his guitar as the strings slunk off.

But similar to Cornelius’ career, most of the near 20 songs performed were technicolor beasts of morphing genres — one minute it was a raving discothèque, the next a heavy metal thrasher; Cornelius skewed electro pitches on the baton-clink hymn “Like A Rolling Stone” (not the Dylan song) before putting the kibosh on the dizzying spectacular with a campy, synth version of Dean Martin’s crooner, “Sleep Warm,” sans the top-secret tech tricks.

We asked: On Sensuous track “Toner,” Cornelius threads a song from a noisy ink-jet printer. If forced to make a song from an unconventional item, what would you rock and why?

Tags: Cornelius
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Food For Animals

January 25th, 2008

Photo: HipHopCore.net

Who? Kooky white rhymer Andrew “Vulture V” Field-Pickering took a liking to ProTools mad scientist Nick “Ricky Rabbit” Rivetti’s beats — or lack thereof — through a friend’s car stereo. From there, the two quickly became a Maryland by way of D.C. duo, collaborating on 2004’s noise-rock-meets-hip-hop EP, Scavengers. A second MC, Sterling “HY” Warren, was added to the Food For Animals food chain in 2006; Belly, FFA’s first studio LP, is available now via the Baltimore-based Hoss label.

What’s the Deal? Somewhere amidst the glossed over experimentations of El-P and the digital firestorm currently being explored in grime lies the Food For Animals sound, where raps are drawn from hard drive chaos. Belly, referencing the group’s ‘belly of the beast’ D.C. roots, opens with “What’s Up,” an electronic blitzkrieg of bleeps and glitches weaved masterly by Rivitti, strung into a ten second tease of a verse at the end. Other outliers like “Swampy (Summer Jam)” is slathered in funky ’80s synths that’d fit nicely on the floors of the club. But FFA’s most lethal moments are managed when the trio pulls flow from a very strange techno-freak industrial wasteland that’s far more refreshing than frustrating.

Fun Fact: Food For Animals is gearing up for future beastly subgenres like “Nap Rap.” “It’s a very slow, slower than screw, form of rap where you perform veeerrrry slow raps over even slower beats and the audience is made to sit on pillows in an all-white room,” Vulture V tells SPIN.com. “The entire movement, we decided, is spearheaded by HY’s “nap rap” alias, Pillow Reilly.”

Now Hear This:
Food For Animals – “Swampy (Summer Jam)” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
Food For Animals at MySpace

Talk: Is this Food fit for us Animals?

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The Shondes

January 24th, 2008

Who? Elijah Oberman (fiddle), Ian Brannigan (guitar), Louisa Rachel Solomon (bass) and Temim Fruchter (drums) is a band bent on putting politics back in punk. Just a year out from their union in college, the foursome caught the crest of a foamy blogger-hype wave without so much as a single pressed. Their self-released LP, The Red Sea, is out now.

What’s the Deal? Shonde is Yiddish for ‘shame’, or a ‘disgrace’, a concept of which they readily embrace, twist and reincorporate in their tales of queer and Jewish identity trappings. “Being something ‘shameful,’ to your family, to your culture or whatever for your identity or your beliefs, that’s something that’s pretty real for each of us…and a lot of people out there. But it’s also an opportunity to reclaim that, be proud, have fun, laugh at ourselves and laugh off the people who make us feel that way,” Oberman tells SPIN.com. When these four take the ideology to the amps, things fall in line with the queercore movement in which they have spawned from – the speed-crunch power chords, a couple f-bombs, the call-and-response chorus (Bikini Kill, Sleater-Kinney, Lesbians on Ecstasy). But the three vocalists (Solomon, Fruchter and Oberman) all have a deep Patti Smith inflection, that slathered with Oberman’s fiddle and Brannigan’s grungy leads, make the band sound like the minor-key, Yiddish version of Garbage, wailing anti-downtrodden by means of mounful manifestos like “What Love Is,” asserting, “I hate myself/So you can/And I police myself/So you can …You don’t know what love is.”

Fun Fact: Every Shonde holds a day job, in addition to promoting and managing themselves. Two are secretaries, and three work with Jews Against the Occupation.

Now Hear This:
The Shondes – “Let’s Go” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
The Shondes at MySpace
shondes.com

Talk: Will these Shondes be shunned?

Tags: The Shondes
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Foals

January 18th, 2008

Who? A quintet of Oxford art school dropouts spawned from the technical side of dance rock, Foals is Yannis Phillippakis (vocals/guitar), Edwin Congreave (keyboards), Walter Gervers (bass), Jimmy Smith (guitar) and Jack Bevan (drums). In the year and half that they’ve existed, these house party scenesters have charted a handful of singles in the U.K., been invited to summer ragers in Ibiza, and impressed TV on the Radio’s David Sitek enough to produce their forthcoming debut LP. Teaser single “Balloons” drops Dec. 10 via the London-based Transgressive label.

What’s the Deal? Like a British version of the Rapture, Foals prefer their guitars tight in the upper chest, so they can fire off frenetic, dance floor uzi riffs so synonymous with the new-rave, Klaxons scene. Name-checking obscure German techno influences like Monolake’s Plumbicon and the very non-obscure pioneer of minimalism, composer Steve Reich, Foals maps things out in a very mathematical way; “Mathletics” being the most obvious example, complete with crisp, bleepy guitar exchanges that break down like steps on a ladder, and precise call and response punk yelps on the mic. As for the David Sitek collaboration, expect all that calculation to get thunderous — thickened vocals, horn sections, and mountains of reverb. All they need now is a trademark dance shimmy.

Fun Fact: Singer Yannis Philippakis is a tennis fanatic and American Grand Slam pro Andy Roddick is his favorite player. The lyrics for “The French Open” are based on Roddick’s advert with Lacoste.

Now Hear This:
Foals – “Balloons”

On the Web:
Foals at MySpace
wearefoals.com

Talk: Foals or just a wily, British-phonetic spelling of fools?

Tags: Foals
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The Busy Signals Don’t Delay Punk Rampage

January 17th, 2008

With a shoulder revealing Shivers cut-off tee and a spandex mini-skirt, Busy Signals vocal vixen Ana McGorty screeched “Turn up your stereo/Wind up to go go go,” before leading into a blurring fit of Flashdance-like hot steps. At the Empty Bottle last night (Jan. 14), a full pack of punklings collected at the front of the stage to see the Busy Signals – a band spawned from the Windy City’s Southside loft parties, where the average attendee can’t legally drive a car – blaze through a near gapless nine-song show without a word of banter.

Select tracks from their self-titled debut dominated the quick performance while others touched upon flip sides from 2005 and 2006. Carefree thrashers such as “Matter of Time,” “Tell Me,” and “Plastic Girl” saw each band member crash into each other with each change-up by drummer Frank Jensen. But it was a currently untitled new tune, which showcased angry guitars à la the Stooges and fiery Karen O-like venom, that saw the nervy fivesome go completely apeshit. As “So Pointless,” a blasé Ramones-style runaway tailored for guitarist Eric Cecil’s laser leads, closed things out, the Busy Signals punch-lined their set with a bat of a lash and a simultaneous gear toss to the floor, etching a perfect bittersweet question mark for the evening. Sticksman Frank Jensen quipped to SPIN.com post-show, “We’re definitely not trying to push any envelope at all.” Heh.

Tags: The Busy Signals
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Canadians

December 20th, 2007

Who? Born and bred in Verona Italy, Canadians (sans the ‘the’) — Duccio Simbeni (vocals/guitar), Michele Nicoli (guitar), Massimo Fiorio (bass/vocals), Vittorio Pozzato (keyboards/vocals) and Christian Corso (drums) — formed in 2005. A Sky With No Stars marks the band’s debut effort, of which is making enough waves in their native Italy, to cross the big Atlantic wave next spring for their first Stateside appearance at SXSW ’08.

What’s the Deal? Though they may be “a sad band pretending to be a happy one,” as Massimo puts it to SPIN.com, Canadians’ sound can’t help separate itself from the sunshiny, West Coast vibe it idolizes. With fuzzy, Weezer-era power chords, Casio playtime key-fills and nerdy-nasal “Teenege Dirtbag” vocals à la Wheatus, it’s Beach Boys for the grunge set, though one vocal shy of the four-part harmony. Also riddled with songs about summer, old flames and nature, A Sky With No Stars does have its dark melodies, to validate Massimo, as on the minor-key bell twinkles in “Good News,” but they’re all outshined with heavy party-hook galore on anthems such as “Ode to the Season” and “Summer Teenage Girl.”

Fun Fact: The name Canadians is happenstance, on account of Massimo’s love for the word one day at rehearsal. Though when they’re feeling creative they like to tell people one of the following stories: “We like Canadian bands. We like Canadian flag. We like Canadian nature. We like Canadian girls.”

Now Hear This:
Canadians – “15th of August” DOWNLOAD MP3

Now Watch This:
Canadians – “Summer Teenage Girl”

On the Web:
Canadians at MySpace

Talk: Will these Canadians invade America with their West Coast vibe?

Tags: Canadians
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Band of the Week: Nina Nastasia and Jim White

December 3rd, 2007

Hometown: Hollywood, Calif. (Nina Nastasia); Melbourne, Australia (Jim White)

Fun Fact: Nastasia doesn’t own a single record. Nor does she consider herself a “music person” or one who “goes to record stores, browses around and collects records.”

Why They’re Worth Watching: The duo hit complexities with just a guitar and drum kit that rival 100-piece orchestras. Paired with the simultaneously tender and treacherous dynamic of Nastasia’s pipes, an especially poignant brand of folk is forged.

For Fans Of: Neko Case, Joni Mitchell, Cat Power

Nina Nastasia didn’t find her way to making music like many of her contemporaries. Growing up in Hollywood, not involved in any particular music scene, she didn’t even play an instrument. Her most vivid memory is an Oingo Boingo show at the Whisky A Go Go.

Even when she moved to New York on a whim, she didn’t pick up a guitar for another four years, and it was only for fun, an escape from the hell of a waitressing gig. To this day, now in her thirties, Nastasia does not buy records.

But as soon as she started recording, she immediately blossomed into a genuine singer-songwriter presence. It was then she began emoting otherwise simple, melancholic folk pluckings about failed dreams and broken relationships, transforming them into wise, old-soul territory, mostly just by virtue of her God-given voice, capable of both swelling and crushing a heart in a single breath.

It’s not technical prowess that makes Nastasia’s music so affecting, even with Steve Albini helming the studio knobs. But Albini, as with most things he touches, accentuates everything; every lingering vibrato slowly smoke-wisps away, every drumbeat punctuates a sentiment. Nastasia’s debut, Dogs (2000), is one of the loudest quiet records of the last 10 years. Albini has said the record is “so simultaneously unassuming and grandiose that [he] can’t really describe it, except in terms that would make it [and him] sound silly.”

So it was natural that Albini would continue to work with Nina, producing her next three records via his favored label, Chicago’s Touch and Go. It was also through Albini that Nastasia would meet Aussie drummer, Jim White, of Australian instrumental band Dirty Three, of which Albini was a friend. “We needed a drummer, kind of last minute for Run to Ruin (2003),” Nastasia recalls. “Kennan [Nastasia’s boyfriend and musical arranger] and I were fans of Dirty Three. And, of course, Jim’s drumming. Steve connected us. I think we had one rehearsal, and then we all went to this Mexican restaurant and hung out.”

As run-of-the-mill as this story may sound, it led to You Follow Me, a marrying of Nastasia’s trademark coffee-shop guitar with some of the most improvisational drumming White could jazz up. Except, it’s not improvised at all. Rather, it’s extremely calculated, in the same way that Albini accentuates his productions. It’s in this way that the combination blurs the line between who’s leading whom, hence the album title. “Sometimes Jim takes over, sometimes I do,” Nastasia says. “We wanted everything to be very specific.”

At just over a half hour, You Follow Me is the little record that could. It maximizes every playful verse (“I don’t believe in the power of love/ I don’t believe in the wisdom of stone”) with a tom-tom sputter (“Our Discussion”). Every bar chord is punched with a quick bass-cymbal snap (“In The Evening”). And every tortured sentiment (“This is the way/ everything changes”) is supplemented with a flurry of snare brushes. It’s so spacious and so thick with some of the simplest sounds. And yet, so innocent.

“I’m not a person who really knows bands and what’s going on,” Nastasia insists. Even if she is playing the modest card, it’s another example of how greater less is than more.

Tags: Jim White, Nina Nastasia
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Mark Lanegan and Co. Save Some Souls

November 28th, 2007

Now that ex-Screaming Trees frontman Mark Lanegan has become rock’s new solemn soul a la Johnny Cash, it’s like watching an undertaker sing songs about Jesus, of which there was no shortage last night (Nov. 27) at New York’s Gramercy Theater. Debuting the first set of their U.S. tour, the British production team — featuring leader Rich Machin (sans his other half Ian Glover), guitarists Steve Gullick and Richard Warren, Spiritualized drummer Kevin Bales, bassist Matt Stravick, and gospel singers Wendy Rose and Carmen Smart — supported Lanegan in promotion of their latest release, It’s Not How Far You Fall, It’s the Way You Land.

The hour-long show, boosted by a sprinkling of throwback psych and classic rock covers such as CCR’s “Effigy,” Buffy Sainte-Marie’s “Codine,” and Spacemen 3’s “Feel So Good,” included only one non-sung word shared with the audience — Lanegan’s ‘thank you,’ as he walked off stage. But each cover took Lanegan into his impenetrable, baritone concentration. He may have seemed like an inanimate statue up there, but there’s pure pain in those vocals.

As for the It’s Not How Far… cuts, Machin kept the live interpretation verbatim to the record, tinkering with sounds behind a stack of amps, when not playing keys or looping guitar riffs. Standouts included the sitar slathered “Jesus of Nothing,” a percussion-heavy rendition of “Ask the Dust,” and the Grey’s Anatomy hit, “Revival,” which saw some fans spreading their arms open as if Lanegan was some deity of soul.

Bassist Matt Stravick, who caught up with SPIN.com afterward to talk about some first-show-of-the-tour sentiments, explained that Rich and the band were a little “nervous” beforehand, but the feeling was quashed with Lanegan’s post-show gratitude. “When Mark says ‘thank you,’ you know you’ve done something right.”

Tags: Mark Lanegan, Screaming Trees
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The Fourth Annual mtvU Woodie Awards

November 9th, 2007

Cable network mtvU wrapped its fourth annual Woodie Awards last night at New York City’s Roseland Ballroom, honoring artists that students “live their lives to,” i.e. while holding onto red plastic keg cups — or at least so it seemed after the ceremony, judging by the abyss of discarded vessels littering the venue’s floor.

But before the festivities began (and the kegstands), SPIN.com caught upwith some talent on the red carpet to snag a few words of wisdom forthe 4.6 million university voters out there in dormitory land. Rilo Kiley frontwoman Jenny Lewis offered some sage advice: “Tune in. Drop out. Tune out. Drop in. Drop your pants. Tune your guitar.” MC Naledge of hip-hop duo Kidz in the Hall, advised students to “work your plan and plan your work” and “don’t be afraid to socialize.” But it was Fall Out Boy‘s Pete Went who won us over with his astute priorities. “Schedule all your classes based on how many freshmen girls are in it,” Wentz recommended.

Come awards time, there were scores of upsets. Spoon trumped Bright Eyes for the Alumni Woodie, an award that honors steadfast musical presence, and for Best Video, Justice‘s “D.A.N.C.E.” took a back seat to Say Anything‘s “Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too.” And there were some obvious wins, too, as Boys Like Girls – whom readers selected as 2006 SPIN.com Artist of the Year – beat out Peter Bjorn and John and Tokyo Police Club, among other heavy hitters, to take the Breaking Woodie award. And surprise, surprise – Gym Class Heroes were crowned with the Woodie ofthe Year award, as the MySpace darlings of the Academy Is… emerged with the Viral Woodie award.

Between statue handouts, the event raged on as an extravagantly decorated party with free booze and kabob-like finger treats. Every once in a while you’d catch nominated bands dancing on tables or slamming back those red cups, with honorable mention going to Best Music On Campus winners, Stella By Starlight in the back of the house. Later, Annie Lennox took the stage to honor music as a means of social change. Pointing to college campuses as the epicenter of protests, she presented this year’s Good Woodie award to Guster for their efforts behindmore than 600 “green” concerts planned via their environmentally-conscious organization, Reverb. For this philanthropic honor the band offered two words – “Go Earth!”

As for performances, highlights include Spank Rock‘s neon mess of hip hop, which, though entertaining, rocked the finest cliches – bikini clad dancers, “hoochie mama” rhymes, and a token entourage stage assault during his ’80s synth ode to “Rick Rubin.” Rilo Kiley strummed an acoustic rendition of their single, “Money Maker,”complete with guitar-case drum fills, and The Academy Is… broughtback Alice In Chains-era angst with “We’ve Got a Big Mess On Our Hands.”

And then, in typical college fashion, the party abruptly came to a close and waves of drunken revelers searched for an after party.

Tags: Annie Lennox, Boys Like Girls, Bright Eyes, Guster, Jenny Lewis, Justice, Kidz in the Hall, MC Naledge, Peter Bjorn and John, Rilo Kiley, Say Anything, Spank Rock, Spoon, Stella By Starlight, the Academy Is, Tokyo Police Club
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Matt Costa’s Next Steps

October 29th, 2007

Photo: Autumn de Wilde

Skate or die dude! A piece of Matt Costa literally had to perish in order for the folk popster we all know today to take shape. He was a few steps away from going pro until he shattered his leg and retreated to his Huntington Beach bedroom with a 4-track and an acoustic guitar.

Skating was a huge part of Costa’s life. He even admits it’s how he first got turned on to music, by cuing into the soundtracks of his favorite skate videos: “You had to take it upon yourself to do the research. Like see the names in the credits and then go to your record store and buy it. I remember waiting like two years to actually find something,” explains Matt.

You’d think these tracks he used to hunt down would be the token ska/punk thrashings so synonymous with the culture. But then you’d be ignoring the sub-cultures that didn’t hit the mainstream, like those that utilize classic Donovan tracks; jazzy, almost hip-hop breakbeats i.e. “Get Thy Bearings” off of 1968’s The Hurdy Gurdy Man. Call it a precursor to Lupe Fiasco’s aerial and varial metaphors for love.

Although Costa did tear through some abrasive Gorilla Biscuits’ covers with his first high school band, his records are a far shot from punk and on another map as dub. When his first demo made it to the hands of Jack Johnson, who signed him, it was the Pacific sunshine acoustics that won him over. And his 2005 debut, Songs We Sing, is riddled with Beach Boys and West coast jangle pop.

Sometimes this 25-year-old’s affinity for his idols, (like Donovan), bleeds a little too much into his work, but there’s no denying the fact that Costa is genuine. And his new album, Unfamiliar Faces, due out January 15th, again on Johnson’s Brushfire records, is a giant step for the singer/songwriter and his new way of seeing the world. For one, things aren’t so sunshiny anymore. He turns to a heavy-hearted, breathy blues cut called “Heart of Stone,” about “dealing with the repercussions of something when you know either way that it’s doomed to be devastating… a part of your innocence dies.” Or the title track, another bitter-sweet, twinkly keys and acoustic pulled from the “anxiety you get from the unknown when you put your trust into people and how that feeling leaves them vulnerable.”

And two, he’s grown, in that deep, bleeding heart way we all like to devour – vulnerable, jaded and anxious. But he’s “beyond that” he jokes, “ I wrote those songs and now they’re out of my system.”

Tags: Matt Costa
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Tiny Masters of Today Bring Down the ‘House’

October 19th, 2007

Despite the ‘sold out’ marquee, the Bowery Ballroom was actually penetrable last night (Oct. 18); evidence that CMJ ’07 is kickin’ some serious booty, perhaps? Is New York City wearing you down, dear festival attendees?

But while the venue was chiefly vacant, the stage was a different story — openers the Grey Race deserve an award for max sonic capacity, squeezing drummer Ethan Eubanks in a five-foot space amidst every subsequent acts’ equipment. It didn’t faze the recent Unfiltered Records signees as they made light of the dinky crowd, dropping clever lyrics about the meaning of the world (“On the Chin”) and giving between-song props to purveyors of sudsy good times, Miller and Bud. The trio are an odd mix of West Coast percussion (Eubanks), New York City rhythms (Jeff Hill/bass) and New Zealand wit (Jon Darling/vocals), that, partnered with some demonic pop duel harmonies, bring back those days of sweet album-dependent, late ’90s alt-rock a la the Wallflowers. But here, quite a few shades darker, as broadcasted on the set’s standout track, “Goodbye to You,” which could have been a Queens of the Stone Age B-side.

Next, Stardeath & White Dwarfs kicked it up a much-needed notch, blasting a set of Black Sabbath-era guitars and Animal Collective-quirk that caught the crowd just a bit off guard. With a stream of otherworldly, blindingly bright lights, Stardeath and White Dwarfs seriously jammed psych-indie from another planet. Of course, it helped that vocalist Dennis Coyne was suited in a Bay City Rollers-type leotard, and ahem, hence the last name, is closely related to another intergalactic being, Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne, who is the young rocker’s uncle. Epic wall of distortion ballad “Birth” arrived complete with creepy crying baby sound-effects, while the raw-on-name-alone closer, “Springtime in Martha Stewart’s Head,” spouted crunchy guitar and dizzying cymbal pounding, closely rivaling Uncle Wayne’s psychedelic cred.

Later, another youthful Brooklyn-based outfit, Tiny Masters of Today, took the stage. Call it hype. Poke fun at the fact that their friends can’t get into their shows. But brother-sister duo Ivan (13) and Ada (11) do have an early onset of a true punk ethos. By the second track, they were “Stickin’ It to the Man” and sporting I-don’t-give-a-damn smiles and postures absent of nerves. The moment of pre-teen zen came mid-set with a track about Dubya and “how much [they] don’t like him,” the aptly titled, “Bushy.” “Lie to the people, but we don’t care / ’cause you’re the one with pink underwear,” shot Ada. The now pretty ample crowd would have been content with that sweet political stab, but the siblings then churned out a punky rendition of House of Pain’s “Jump Around,” Ada laboring on the ax and scream fills, Ivan throwing rhymes, “I’m the cream of the crop / I rise to the top.” Word.

Tags: Grey Race, Stardeath & White Dwarfs, Tiny Masters of Today
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Scotland Yard Gospel Choir

October 19th, 2007

Who? Chicago string and heart-on-sleeve collective with a revolving cast of over 50 musicians. No one is Scottish, nor do they preach any gospel, though chief songwriter and frontman Elia Einhorn (guitar/vocals) does throw in a Bible reference or two on their forthcoming self-titled album, out Oct. 23 via Chicago’s Bloodshot label. Playing CMJ at the Cake Shop on Friday (Oct. 19) at 9 P.M., and at Brooklyn’s Union Pool on Saturday (Oct. 20) at 4:05 P.M.

What’s the Deal? Einhorn got his start playing hours upon hours of acoustic Belle & Sebastian covers just to get mic time at local coffee shops. And one can’t deny the same breathy-warm guitars and soul-hug vocals Einhorn and other core member, Ellen O’Hayer (cello/vocals), weave on Scotland Yard Gospel Choir. The band’s other 50 or so musicians/vocalists are cut down to about seven on the touring circuit, appearing alongside a horn and string section comprised of the best of Chicago’s indie scene (Mucca Pazza, Head of Femur). When the ensemble’s tight, Einhorn’s commandeering style soars with wails of heartache while the strings keep it aloft (“The World Has No Place For Me”). And when they’re loose, it’s scrappy indie-pop bent on jangly guitars and sunshine vocals (“Pins and Needles”), O’Hayer chiming in with her fair share of honey-smooth leads. The few Bible nods and many other literati refs — “I’ve been hiding out at home, Whiting out the Bible” — are mostly a coming of terms for Einhorn and his troubled past as a drug dealer and addict. Otherwise there are no values being bestowed besides genuine, Windy City pop rock tales.

Fun Fact? Einhorn has been sober and drug-free for ten years, celebrating the triumph with candy and flower tosses at shows.

Now Hear This:
Scotland Yard Gospel Choir – “I Never Thought I Could Feel This Way For a Boy” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
Scotland Yard Gospel Choir at MySpace
sygc.com

Talk: Is this ‘Choir’ fit for the masses?

Tags: Scotland Yard Gospel Choir
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Care Bears On Fire Ignite CMJ 2007

October 17th, 2007

As expected, day one (Oct. 16) of CMJ 2007 was an overload of talent, thickly spread over hundreds of venues and multiple boroughs throughout the Big Apple. Considering, there’s pretty much no way to rig yourself a concrete schedule; bands go on late thanks to impromptu encores and festival badges don’t guarantee you a spot in the club (we’re shaking our fist at you, Bowery Ballroom). A festivalgoer’s best route is to stick with a showcase and wait for some angry, or extremely happy souls, to pick up their guitars and prove themselves the next buzz. SPIN.com caught up with some hopefuls at Crash Mansion, and they rocked.

Pint-size punkers Care Bears On Fire provided a glimpse of the 12-year-old Brooklyn scene, and, surprisingly, offered one of the more impressive shows of the night. Guitarist/singer Sophie Kasakove proved to be a Joan Jett shredder, belting out uninhibited lyrics about MySpace and zoo animals. And you didn’t have to be one of the many friends of the kids’ parents in attendance to realize that Care Bears On Fire are more than just a gimmick. Though, coincidentally, it was slightly funny the Crash Mansion staff broadcasted the film BIG on the venue’s flatscreens. The trio’s cred was summed up in their second to last track, “Everybody Else,” which hammered out just a few bar chords and drew from the Ramones’ deadpan methodology via anthemic verse, “Don’t want to be like everybody else.” Here’s to that.

Confusingly, the masses cleared for Atlanta emo crusaders Love Takes Flight (Rebirth Is Near); their AFI-brand of pink-faced energy was spot-on and radio ready. The slim crowd didn’t phase the six-piece, while all three guitarists never bled into each other’s sound, and the drummer bludgeoned with furious snare backdrops. It was this tight blur of angst that ironically saw cooler-than-thou fans splayed out along the outskirt benches of the Mansion, for the most part inanimate, as their antithesis unfolded; the band’s frontman engaged Axl Rose-like pose, and pulled screeches deep from his belly, closing off the set with “I Never Knew.”

Next, Williamsburg Brooklyn-based The Beasts of Eden endured the longest set of the night with ten cuts. Blending a kind of Cold War Kids pop with a Wolfmother drawl, the band, notably guitarist Chris Boosahda, offered epic-long chainsaw fills on beastly track, “The Wolves.” SPIN.com took a moment with lead singer, Chris V, to see what kind of Beasts they really are. “Leopards. Because, we’re still a little bit heavy. Not all the time. Kind of creeping up a bit. But when it comes time to pounce, we jump.”

Finally, there was Oppenheimer, a cheery synth and drum duo from Belfast. It was at this moment that the stoners surfaced, toking to the Kraftwerk-meets-Weezer pop. Guitarist Rocky O’Reilly had the sweetest po-go hops, but no one followed suit in the audience. Meanwhile, singer Shaun Robinson, perched atop his drum, ran through comical back-stories on all the tracks, memorably a song about axeman Rocky: “I Don’t Care What Anybody Says About You, I Think You’re Alright,” Rocky belted, his words smothered in bells and moog. The two played minute-long songs — “Major Television Events” — only to tell the crowd that it would be shorter, if not for the fade out. Very honest. Very genuine. Some dude with an air-horn demanded more.

Tags: Care Bears on Fire, Love Takes Flight, Oppenheimer, The Beasts of Eden
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Taken By Trees

October 4th, 2007

Who? Before lending her smoky vocals to Peter, Bjorn and John’s summer smash “Young Folks,” Swedish indie poptress Victoria Bergsman fronted the Concretes for 11 years. Having left the lineup in summer 2006 due to creative differences — “True art can’t be made in a democratic group, where everyone gets to have their say,” Bergsman tells SPIN.com — Bergsman now fronts Taken By Trees. Open Field marks the project’s debut release for Rough Trade.

What’s the Deal? Open Field is a heavy-hearted companion piece to Bergman’s fog-like pipes, creeping up on its listener and shrouding them in this kind of haunting beauty that artists like Chan Marshall and Nina Nastasia have paved the way for. The orchestration is kept sparse, letting cymbal sweeps, glockenspiels and piano fills hang in a very purposeful manner, creating this infinite space for Bergsman to let her lyrics linger; a headphone record, inviting you to go get lost. The two-note finger plucking opener “Tell Me,” begs for a friend — “I don’t want to be standing alone without a hand to hold / That’s for everyone / No one should stand without a hand to hold.” Single bell chimes of reverb fade about on the wispy jaunt “Too Young,” while multiple strings and twirling keys on “Lost and Found” keep the melancholy plenty thick.

Fun Fact? Since Bergsman appeared on Peter Bjorn and John’s “Young Folks,” bassist/keyboardist Bjorn Yttling and drummer John Eriksson returned the favor — they both co-produced and played on Open Field.

Now Hear This:
Taken By Trees – “Too Young” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
Taken By Trees at MySpace
takenbytrees.com

Talk: Will this Swede get lost amidst her ‘Trees’?

Tags: Taken By Trees
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CIFF’s Illinois(e)makers

September 27th, 2007

Six of the city’s finest hometown talents are showcased at this year’s Chicago International Film Festival.

The Chicago International Film Festivalreturns with its now five decade run as one of America’s oldest film festivals. As much as we love the rest of the world and the hundreds of films that make up the two-week-long festival, nothing makes us prouder than a Windy City alumn, setting a tale on the streets that inspired them. Hence these six “Illinois(e)makers.” (All shows are at AMC River East 21)

Louder Than a Bomb
6 p.m. October 11, 1:30 p.m. October 16, 3:30 p.m. October 18
“Maybe the way we judge kids and their intelligence, maybe we have that wrong,” waxes Kevin Coval, co-founder of this Chicago high school slam poetry documentary, echoing, “Where are you from? That’s prompt number one. And we begin to paint the neighborhood with language.” Profiling four teams, this film lives and breathes social justice and activism, revealing the hyper-diversity and age-defying inspiration of the next crop of poets, from the city that birthed the slam, seen through the eyes of hometown directors, Greg Jacobs and Gene Siskel’s nephew, Jon.

The Defiled
10:15 p.m. October 13, 11:15 p.m. October 15, 9:30 p.m. October 17
Feature film vet Julian Grant (he has two dozen on his resume) kicked out this post-apocalyptic zombie love tale of sorts – think “I Am Legend” but filmed in Chicago – during down time as a professor at Columbia College. He’s been creating projects as an independent producer, writer and director for everyone from HBO to The Lifetime Network. Though decidedly black-and-white and crunchy audio lo-fi, bridges were not closed to share its gem of a survival script. Just some fields on the South Side.

Drunkboat
8:30 p.m. October 8, 4:30 p.m. October 9, 4:45 p.m. October 14
Based on the 1985 play of the same name from Chicago-born playwright/director Bob Meyer, scenes of the Chicago River and Rainbo Club lace this tale of an alcoholic Vietnam vet (John Malkovich) and his 12-year-old nephew (Jacob Zachar) bent on materializing his uncle’s dream of buying a boat. Adding to the semi-star power, the story is studded with minor-role stars John Goodman as the enabling boat salesman, and Dana Delany as Malkovich’s cautious sister. There’s a little hometown blasphemy when the Ukrainian Village is supposed to be the setting of Detroit. But Meyer and co-writer, Randy Buescher, set up a wholesome chase.

Go For It!
12:30 p.m. October 9, 6:30 p.m. October 14, 9 p.m. October 16
Though DePaul grad Carmen Marron set her sights on inspiring teen minds with her semi-autobiographical Chicago junior college dance saga, her old Logan Square stomping grounds’ setting is resonating amongst all sorts of age groups, from old Russian filmmakers to middle-aged Boston dads. The script’s a wee coming-of-age cliche – “I want yesterday back,” says a bleary eyed Carmen (Aimee Garcia) – but it’s an endearing growing pain in the end.

Tony & Janina’s American Wedding
7:15 p.m. October 10, 2:15 p.m. October 17
School of the Art Institute teacher and documantarian Ruth Leitman sets this heart-tugger in the ‘burbs, as a Polish family gets torn apart by our clunky immigration system. Barack Obama, way back in his senator days, presides as the thematic guiding light, as a father entangles himself in a years-long battle to bring his wife and son back through the bright lights of O’Hare for good.

Polish Bar
9:10 p.m. October 16, 7 p.m. October 17, 2:30 p.m. October 19
Billed as the Windy City’s “Mean Streets,” School of the Art Institute grads Ben Berkowitz and Ben Redgrave sub out the mob for Polish gangsters in this semi-autobiographical based on Berkowitz’ time in Wabash Avenue’s jewelry district and the extra money he’d scrap as a strip-club DJ. Rueben (Vincent Piazza) earns more money at the strip club one night than he does in a week at his father’s jewelry store. Mo’ money mo’ problems ensue as Rueben battles morals between his Jewish heritage and quest to be somebody.

Tags: CIFF, Drunkboat, Go For It, Louder Than a Bomb, Polish Bar, The Defiled, Tony and Janina's American Wedding
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Les Savy Fav’s Friendly Return

September 24th, 2007

Just three songs in, singer Tim Harrington suspended himself upside down like some deranged punk orangutan from the 15-foot balcony of Manhattan’s Bowery Ballroom Saturday evening (Sept. 22), trusting a few fans to hold him in place while he screeched a string of abrasive lyrics.

These types of madman stage antics are commonplace for the post punk-inspired outfit, Les Savy Fav. Dresses, lime-green whitey tighteys, water spitting, Harrington was a circus. And the funny part is, the rest of the band has perfected their distance from it, completely honing out any type of chaos, even if its baldheaded frontman crashes into them.

Back in full force from a kind of lazy two-year hiatus with sporadic shows and little to no studio time, Les Savy Fav opened with a new cut from their first full-length record in six years, Let’s Stay Friends, called “The Equestrian,” transporting the time back to ’80s hardcore, with a throat shredding chorus — “You make me shake / You make me shiver” — and a furious snare drum charge that stirred up a floor-wide mosh pit.

To keep this manic level of energy up, LSF played an equal set of six new album tracks and six oldies, some going as far back as 1999’s anthemic party-rock “Scout’s Honor” and the idiosyncratic “Yawn, Yawn, Yawn,” Harrington spitting, “Yawn, Yawn, Yawn we’re all long gone / If we get lucky we’ll be dead by dawn / So let’s get it on,” while whipping two microphones over his head, sometimes throwing them into the crowd for fans to share lyrics.

After closing with a mass-pogo-ing rendition of “Who Rocks the Party,” in which the band would not go on with the song unless the entire house got on the ground, Harrington offered SPIN.com some words of clarification. “We thrive on being confused,” Harrington said. “So actually being genuinely confused, instead of having to force yourself to sort of contrively confuse yourself …feels fun, feels cool …we are a profoundly self-indulgent band.”

Tags: Les Savy Fav
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Dragons of Zynth

September 24th, 2007

Who? Bronx-born twin brothers, Aku (vocals/keys) and Akwetey O.T. (keys/guitar), and two good friends Bizza (drums) and Autry (bass) at its core, Dragons of Zynth rock it indie-Canadian style — 15 people deep, at least on the band’s debut long-player, Coronation Thieves, due Oct. 2 via Gigantic Music. Huge players in the Brooklyn art-rock scene, TV on the Radio, make up a large chunk of that crew, with guitarist David Sitek spearheading the production.

What’s the Deal? Coronation Thieves draws harmony from chaos…literally. It’s a beast of rabid textures as keys are almost impossible to discern as walls and walls of distortion, horns and speed screeching guitar solos get thrown about as if TV on the Radio invaded a jam session with Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene. “Who Rize Above” is a thrash-funk monster of an anthem that explodes with yelps and afro-intensive drums designed specifically to make one mosh, while “Funky Genius” takes spoken word into new atmospheres with layers of ivory stabs and jazzy drum fills. And then there’s the stand out “Anna Mae” that turns static, distortion and a little synth into a contender for psychedelic pop song of the year. “[The record] is in direct relation to our psyches at the time, because we weren’t in control of some things in our lives,” Akwetey tells SPIN.com. “You know, when you’re involved in a big project like this, sometimes your work gets out of control.”

Fun Fact: David Sitek came seconds from death during the production of the album, the victim of a chunk of beefsteak lodged in his throat on a lunch break. Singer Aku came to the rescue. “He was foaming at the mouth,” Akwetey says. “We could see the blood moving away from his brain. Aku shook him up, saved his life.”

Now Hear This:
Dragons of Zynth – “Breaker” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
Dragons of Zynth at MySpace

Talk: Do these Dragons got the right scales to soar?

Tags: Dragons of Zynth
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The Secret Machines

September 20th, 2007

New Yorker neo-lords of ball-stomping indie rock, the Secret Machines hammered through the second show of a three-date residency at Manhattan’s Annex club last night (Sept. 19), debuting new material from their still nameless third LP with reckless abandon.

The shows come in a shaky period of the band’s existence, due to founding member (and brother to lead singer) Benjamin Curtis’ departure last March for his new Brooklyn project School of Seven Bells. But the crowd of Lower East Side eccentrics and weathered enthusiasts ate up the new tunes, including some celebrity fist pumps from Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl and drummer Taylor Hawkins, who recently toured with the Machines in Europe.

The band kicked things off with a droning trio of 15-minute jams called “Terrible Light,” “Dreaming of Dreaming” and “The Fire is Waiting,” all of which, with their psychedelic swarms of guitar and John Bonham-like pounds, suggested that the future of TSM is far much more of a return to the furious classic rock rhythms of their debut, Now Here is Nowhere. Other new tunes such as the delay-smothered, power chord heel-stomper “Last Believer, Drop Dead,” and the foot-pedal punches of “Have I Run Out” and “The Walls Are Starting to Crack” were so loud, you couldn’t hear a word Brandon Curtis was saying. But watching drummer Josh Garza kill his drum kit was definitely worth it.

SPIN.com caught up with Curtis post-show, who offered some comments about his brother’s departure and hinted at a possible new guitarist. “It’s a mixed bag. [Benjamin] is probably one of the most talented musicians I’ve ever met, and ever had the chance of playing with,” Curtis shared. “But I think [Phil E. Karnats, from Tripping Daisy] has been a really incredible friend for a long time, and he’s a really incredible guitar player. And Josh and I feel that what we’re doing now is connected to what we were doing before.”

Tags: The Secret Machines
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Drug Rug

September 11th, 2007

Who? A jangle-popster match made in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 2006, Drug Rug features one girlfriend named Sarah Cronin, one boyfriend named Thomas Allen. The shamble guitar duo met slinging drinks at the in(die)famous Middle East nightclub, that led to demo swapping, and then some whiskey drinking, and many a twisted Byrds-meets-backwoods-blues harmonies.

What’s the Deal? Together the two’s vocals, paired with their brand of sunshine lo-fi, teeter on the shrill end, a la the beginnings of electric-Dylan. But like the D-man, it fits seamlessly. Drug Rug’s self-titled debut, out this week via the Black and Greene label, opens with a ’50s A.M. radio effect, washing over Cronin’s lyrics in treble, before exploding back into equilibrium with a furious blues-y breakdown chorus, “Nobody nowhere can tell you you’re wrong (For the Rest of Your Life).” It sets the tone: sweet and smart, charming ’60s-era pop spiked with erratic wails and modern indie rock sonics. There are some other recruits that flesh out a full-band sound, mainly Apollo Sunshine‘s Jesse Gallagher on bass and keys, and Mike Cummings (The Dead Trees) twanging about on strings, some anonymous tambourine smatterings. But the couple shines best with a simple guitar lick and a shared mic.

Fun Fact: Prior to signing to Los Angeles indie imprint Black and Greene Records, Allen and Cronin went to see a psychic. “She said that Sarah carries darkness on her shoulders that unfolds into a small yellow flower,” Allen tells SPIN.com. “I guess can sometimes feel the imaginary pains of the departed.

Now Hear This:
Drug Rug – “Day I Die” DOWNLOAD MP3

On the Web:
Drug Rug at MySpace

Talk: Do these era-clashers make you want to cut a ‘Rug’?

Tags: Drug Rug
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Earlimart Scores the Dream Team

August 29th, 2007

“That’s what we call [hydroning], at the end. It’s just like milking it,” chuckled Earlimart lead singer Aaron Espinoza, after shredding some extra cacophony on top of a fresh track from their latest LP, Mentor Tormentor. Call it comic relief from the texture-smiths of Silverlake, CA’s rainy-day rock scene. Or call it accurate.

Accurate in the best of ways. The milking of cacophony was definitely a good thing with new tour recruits, the String Dream Team quartet, who tugged and lifted a few cuts short of the complete new record. All together, the crew stood nine people deep last night (Aug. 28) at Joe’s Pub in New York City; a deceiving place, with its very un-pub-like table-only service and high-class jazz bar design.

The evening began just as Mentor was pressed: the ominous drum charge of “Fakey Fake” setting up the washed-out acoustics of “Answers & Questions,” but now all dressed up with violins and cello. It wasn’t until the fourth track, an ode to the band’s late friend and inspiration, Elliott Smith, called “Heaven Adores You” off 2004’s Treble and Tremble, that they strayed from the new.

The crowd of mostly weathered fans played the attentive card, keeping the between-track requests to a minimum, save for one gentlemen’s encore shot out that drew a nostalgic response from Espinoza — “Oh shit, we never play ‘Drink On the Job’…’play that one song you wrote when you were 16, but…skateboarding’,” he joked, before honoring the old punk gem.

But just when the band had the opportunity to ‘milk’ it best, they killed it. The exiting track, a cheery in chord, dark in irony sing-along called “Cold Cold Heaven” was sterile without the choir present on theMentor cut. Why did you bench the Dream Team Earlimart? Why? Mentor Tormentor indeed.

Tags: Earlimart
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Ben Kweller Lays His Catalog to Rest

August 2nd, 2007

On the final evening (Aug.1) of his three-night stint at Brooklyn’s Southpaw, and one song shy of completing his 2006 self-titled effort, a fan demanded that Ben Kweller “PLAY ANOTHER ALBUM.” The Brooklyn-based popster raised a little smile while tuning his guitar, while a pit of 18-year-old girls screamed their nod of approval. For a minute Kweller let the joke hang there, teasing with a repeat of Sha Sha, but his smile dropped — “I’m so ready to move on…I can’t tell you enough.”

From there, Ben and his touring band, Trio on the Train Tracks (bassist Chris Morrissey and drummer Mark Stepro), tore apart the calculated ballads of Kweller’s latest. Lyric sheets were, again, pretty much instant souvenirs rather than sing-along aids, as every soul gathered at Southpaw spit verses quicker than Ben could fire them off the mic, sometimes taking vocal ownership of jangly anthems such as “Penny on the Train Tracks” and “Magic.”

As with the previous shows, Ben had a special surprise in the form of a sparkly box atop his piano, to mirror the album cover in play. Monday was toothbrushes. Tuesday something to do with On My Way. Last night, despite one lady fan’s hope for something phallic, a la Justin Timberlake, saw bandanas. Not one to dwell on the week’s sentiments, Kweller and crew immediately clicked on the power chord punk for “This is War,” followed by a handpicked set of encores — “Walk on Me,” “Hospital Bed,” Different but the Same” — that “just didn’t feel right without” a last minute “Wasted And Ready” finale, Ben hopping up on top of his keyboard to jam it home.

For the diehards that bought a three-day pass, Kweller hosted a pizza party in the basement and SPIN.com caught a moment with the prolific songster to ask why the 26-year-old is so ready to put these albums to rest.

“I’m not proclaiming that these are classics or anything,” Kweller said. “I’m just trying to sort of reach into my past and…it’s more of a personal thing…to take a review on what I’ve done so far. But what it’s really about is my future. I’m about to make two new albums at once — one in September, the other in February.”

Tags: Ben Kweller
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Siren ’07 – Saving the Free

July 23rd, 2007

Word on New York’s Coney Island boardwalk this year was that the world famous hot dog staple would be torn down and shadowed by condos. Though it’s a half-truth — see the evil Thor Equities and their renovation plans — The Village Voice‘s 7th annual music festival was, once again, all sunshine and free rock on Saturday (July 21).

Save for Sri Lankan-bred hip-hop political firecracker, M.I.A., and her Missy Elliott-like thumps and whoops, the bill was literally a rock affair, with the timeless original punks New York Dolls at the top of the pile. Lead singer David Johansen and guitarist Sylvain Sylvain ate up their prime time slot on the main stage, launching backward summersault guitar solos and speaker stack jumps during classics like “Personality Crisis” and “Looking for a Kiss,” and a cover from their “favorite group,” Janis Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart.”

Meanwhile, bleeding-heart hipsters flocked to the second stage to catch other headlining act, Cursive. With their horn-heavy rock of the cathartic kind, mass screams by the audience and singer Tim Kasher alike redefined the meaning of ‘Siren,’ something of which ex-Pumpkin James Iha decided to show up for, being all emo in the press pit. In between tracks, Kasher took time to reiterate what a drag it would be if Coney Island gets gentrified, supporting the words with their satirical stab at the American Dream, “Dorothy at Forty.”

But the pre-sunset rockness is what made Siren 2007 really memorable, especially before the VIP section was over max capacity and we could actually acquire a beer without throwing elbows. Highlights included hometown Brooklyn sweethearts Matt and Kim just beaming ear-to-ear smiles over crowd-surfers and heaving chests, their Quasi-like energy so infectious, fans lunged themselves onstage to catch a hug.

Philly psych rockers Dr. Dog, who saw the hottest part of the day, cursed the fest for making everyone sweat, but proceeded to hop around in fedoras and no shoes, ditching their Beach Boy doo-wop for mid-90’s Pavement era cuts like on their cover of Architecture in Helsinki’s “Heart It Races.”

And then there were the Detroit Cobras, who seemed to have transported themselves directly from the Motor City’s dingiest dive bar, choppin’ up speed blues covers that felt odd without a barstool to kick over or a bottle to smash. Chain-smoking frontwoman Rachel Nagy pointed out between drags that they “have Coney Islands in Detroit, but they’re hot dogs…with chili,” and that we didn’t “look like a hot dog with chili.” To continue with their infatuation with hot dogs, they went straight into one of their only original cuts, “Hot Dog (Watch Me Eat).”

Both the White Rabbits and We Are Scientists deserve honorable mentions for playing the power-indie card to a sea of early-day passer-bys and doubling their audience by way of pure knee-buckling power chords and harmonies, rather than stage antics.

But otherwise, Siren ’07, though kind of a homogeneous bill this year, rallied another diverse set of New Yorkers for one of the only free festivals in the country. Here’s to battling Thor and keeping the carnival freak show fun alive.

Tags: Cursive, Dr. Dog, Matt and Kim, New York Dolls, Siren Festival
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Pitchfork Music Festival ‘07 – Dance, Hipster, Dance!

July 20th, 2007

Dan Deacon and a friend read the latest issue of Sentimentalist in between sets at Pitchfork Music Festival at Union Park in Chicago; Photos: Gavin Paul

Kids were po-going in unison, joyously sweating over Deacon’s 8’ x 10’ kickstand table. A speakerbox became a platform for uninhibited hotsteppers, their names chanted by the crowd for encouragement. The power, it had to be (very ironically) cut just before the bass burst of one of his hits – “Silence Like The Wind” – because of the energy busting about.

I wonder how Dan explained that this wasn’t a bomb to airport security?

Same with sample master-masher Girl Talk. The fire marshal shut the operation down because of the crowd surfing, the climbing of trees, on a strip of a third stage no wider than the length of a one way street. Meanwhile, R&B laptop warrior, Jamie Lidell, and Brooklyn math rockers, Battles, actually had enough space, in the main fields of Union Park, for the release of Uzi guitars and synths. Dancing, dancing everywhere…in place, with heads, shoulders, kicks, fist pumps. There was even a giggly child, shimmying about his father’s feet, guided by the weight of airport, ground control strength headphones.

Klaxons! WILL PLAY!

And then there were the Klaxons. Festival staff got their shit together at this point, so there would be no shutting down of anything. Deacon and Girl Talk, they scorched people’s troubles, but these new rave Britons went so far as to throw down salt to make sure those worries never came back. It was gear-trashing punk. It was hugging security guards. It was elbow and arm flailing. It was a drone of chucked mike silenced by the roar of a thousand bouncing and clapping fans.

Pitchfork brought the rock, and the dance followed.

Tags: Dan Deacon, Klaxons, Mastadon, Pitchfork Music Festival 2007, Yoko Ono
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Live Review: Antony and the Johnsons

March 9th, 2007

There is no immediate access to Antony and the Johnsons for minds built on pop. Antony’s voice trembles emotions so pure, so unstable, it haunts the unwilling ear. It’s like a young child trying to wrap its head around the opera – there is just no understanding. And it doesn’t help that the dude stands six-feet tall and takes pleasure in androgyny, wearing wigs and make-up, titling songs “For Today I Am A Boy.”

But when you cut through all the preconceived nonsense, break down those foundations of pop and let his fragile, baroque orchestrations wash over your senses, stabilizing the beauty of it all is a passive effort.

Antony is well aware of his effect, especially when his collaboration with the Brooklyn Philharmonic dove three songs deep into the 80-minute set before turning on a single light in the theater. Or when he played the audience for fools and lightened his heavy heart with a cover of Beyonce’s “Crazy In Love.”

As an artist, Antony is all about tearing down walls and provoking transformations, broadcasting every shade of the emotional spectrum in the process, with a decidedly shaky vibrato. Sometimes, it’s glaringly obvious, as with the mid-set rendition of “Cripple and the Star Fish” (“I’m changing like the seasons/ Watch! I’ll even cut off my finger/ It will grow back like a starfish”), which featured a stage doused in red light. Other times, he’s subtle, like during “Rapture,” which crescendoed with a snippet from the the Lord’s Prayer. Light shot blindingly white on Antony at that particular moment.

The strings of the Philharmonic were spot-on throughout, magnifying the evening. Antony, usually on keys if anything at all, stood alone on this night, like a beacon of sorrow. Visibly quivering through each inflection, he presented a surprising amount of new material from his forthcoming follow-up to 2005’s I Am A Bird Now. Although, without such a heart-on-sleeve performance, all sense of emotion would have been lost.

The crowd, which was rumored to have hosted fellow New Yorkers Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson (well-known fans of Antony’s), was brimming with fine stabilizers of emotion. So it was fitting that they erupted in applause when Antony had completed his metamorphosis. Their reward – an oldie of an encore called “River of Sorrow” that could only be described as a sonic baptism – found Antony almost falling to his knees:

Can you see the light
At the end of the dark passageway
Take me with you towards this light
Into the darkness passing over the faces in the river
Hear me
I’m whispering in your ear

Tags: Antony and the Johnsons
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Editorial Assistant

February 22nd, 2007

Rising through the ranks from magazine intern to online assistant around the 1000th issue campaign, I kicked out daily news round-ups (morning and afternoon), covered live events, fact-checked and manned many, many hypertext related duties like formatting every bio ever written for every artist on the website.

Noted down in Rolling Stone | Permanent link

Thax Douglas

August 22nd, 2006

The days of looking over his shoulder at New York are gone—and so is he; Photo: Courtesy of Thax Douglas

“I’d rather die in a gutter in New York than keep living the way I’ve been living here.”

Not a day goes by where Thax Douglas isn’t stopped on the street and told he’s a Chicago icon, even a legend, by adoring fans of the live music community. An indie-poet laureate of sorts, the Santa Claus look-a-like has been “concentrating spontaneity” before the sets of more than 800 local and touring bands for the last decade, shooting soft-spoken ghosts of densely packed emotion and metaphor, blending audience and artist in one cohesive current.

But lift the jolly veil and the comforting drawl and out emerges a Bukowski-sans-booze, a member of the starving literati: Thax begging for bus fares home. Thax donating plasma twice a week to pay rent. Thax reciting poems to fans for $5 to pay for dinner. Thax homeless.

Poor? No doubt. Self-conscious? If referring to parts of his non-band oeuvre as typical “Thax Dougles, fucked-up gay loser” confessionals counts. But what he feels he is most definitely not is appreciated:

“I am very tired, but am sick with paranoia and humiliation…Chicago has never understood a very simple truth—my poetry is good. Bands let me read my poems for them because they are good poems. The band enjoys them. The audience enjoys them. Everybody is happy.”

If it were any other poet, you’d be right to take these words with a grain of salt. But Thax has paid his dues. A product of the birth of Slam back in the height of the Green Mill days, rhetorical whit bleeds from his bitter pores. He’s read for crowds of three or four in clubs that don’t exist anymore like South Loop’s Edge of the Looking Glass, Wrigleyville’s Lower Links and the tragically hip Lounge Ax.

It was here, back in ’97, that he sputtered his first-band related verse, as a “lark.” The small audience responded in ways that satisfied Thax’s chaotic but purposeful needs. So he tapped the vein and never looked backed, except “over his shoulder, to New York.”

If you’ve seen a local show in the past nine years, odds are that you’ve heard him recite. He saunters in, unannounced, like a shadow at virtually any club he pleases. Even if you only hear one out of 10 words, you’ll understand, which is why artists embrace him—Billy Corgan’s crusaded for his recognition in interviews, local garage rockers frame anything he pens for them and Wilco has even tried to employ him, attempting to take him on tour as their own pet poet.

Thax, unannounced as ever, read two poems for two different bands at this year’s Lollapalooza: before local whistler/violinist Andrew Bird and before at least 40,000 people prior to The Flaming Lips, his largest audience to date.

Yet you remind him of all this and he’ll immediately dub himself an “outsider” who’s merely “tolerated,” never supported, never paid. “If Chicago likes me so much, then how come I’ve had a dozen people talk about putting a book or a record of mine out and not once follow up on it?”

So it makes sense that a third poem was given to a New Yorker who came to see Lollapalooza: “intelligence crusts the side of the dry drainage ditch, but when the rains come the intelligence won’t slide drop by drop into the river but’ll cling to the side like a brain to its skull.”

And so NYC continues to loom, and he’s set to head east in early September: “Unfortunately, Chicago has always been kind of small-minded…if you do something weird, people will just look at you with suspicion and stuff like that, but in New York they have nothing to compare themselves to.”

When further asked about his impact on the Chicago music community, Thax draws analogies of working for a company that applauds your hard work, tells you to “keep up it up” as often they can all whilst “you’re getting paid less than everyone else and working in a closet…so I’m moving to another company.”

In the beginning:
The first time I read at an open mic in Chicago…was the day after my 30th birthday. A famous local poet named David Hernandez was really nice and sat me down and said, “I like this poem” for “these reasons” and the audience liked it. That was my something. The first time I read a poem for a band was kind of nondescript; I didn’t know if it would be anything more than a novelty.

After a gig:
Well…watch the show. Usually if I’m feeling genial, I’ll just hang out. I don’t do this too much anymore, but there have been many times in the past where I’ve got to two or even three shows a night. Well now, because I am like a celebrity in Chicago, people always come up to me at shows. So basically I just stand and people just come up to me all night.

What’s cool in your neck of the woods:
Humboldt Park, itself, is very beautiful. It was designed by the guy who did Central Park in New York. And the so-called ‘Paseo Boricua’ has improved a big deal in the five years I’ve been there. It’s definitely not a ghetto anymore. There are actually shops and things and clubs on that strip. So it’s still not exactly a good neighborhood, but it’s definitely not the rancid hellhole it was five years ago.

Here I am, rock you like a:
Giant owl.

Fresh from the woodshop:
I’m recording a CD in New York; that’s the reason I’m going. And I want to do this band. I want to do projects and fun things. What I do best is read for bands, but I want to do more.

Coming soon to a stage near you:
Aug. 24 at Subterranean, the 27th at Lilly’s, and the 31st at the Hideout. My last public readings—bands willing—is going to be Mudhoney and Radio Birdman at the Double Door.

Tags: Thax Douglas
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Who’s Who: Cameron McGill

January 16th, 2006

This folksy weeping willow’s got whip.

Cameron McGill is quite the tricky shoe gazer. With just a guitar, a harp and mic he drifts about his audience like a weeping willow on the verge of a thunderstorm. And right when he’s tugging heads with lullaby lows and delicate finger-plucks, he’ll kick you back on your heels with a wailed refrain.

The self-dubbed “traveling salesman of songs” delivers a lighthearted sadness, singing of the lost and lonely with a cathartic optimism. But he didn’t used to be such a folk purist. His entrance into the solo world began after a stint as the front man for Chicago’s pop-rock trio Morris Minors. The band split in the first quarter of 2003 due to Cameron’s growing infatuation with chamber pop, giving way to the lush orchestration of his debut, “Stories of the Knife in the Back.”

Now back with a second batch of songs, we find McGill fully embracing a minimalist approach. “Street Ballads and Murderesques” comes stripped bare of overdubs, emphasizing the narrative poetry within. Whereas the characters in “Stories” were a little closer to home, “Street Ballads” offers more multi-interpretive vignettes. Drawing the title from an arabesque, a classically ornate pub song sold to the masses in Old England, Cameron slaps a little irony with lines like, “Love’s worst day is always better than hate” and “We’ve got hope like the veins in the left arm of a right handed guitar player.”

But pigeonholing him as a minimalist wouldn’t give his full band, Cameron McGill and What Army, justice. Catch him on one of these nights and you’ll see the swaying willow tree launch an amplified assault with keyboards, guitars and thumping percussions possessed with the body spasms of the rock and roll Gods.

Tell me who you are: I’m not an engineer, truck driver, murderer, optimist or chemist for sure. I might be insane, a poet someday, a friend to a few folks. Maybe I made my mother proud. In general, I’m afraid the signal is distant.

What was your Chicago start: Hard to recall, but I believe it was a place on Fullerton, not sure if it’s even still there…was called Hog Head Mcsomethings. That was back in 1995 or ’96 I think?

Here I am-rock you like a: Category 4 that didn’t hurt anybody.

Up next at: Dive or no dive, our next show in Chicago will be at the Hideout on Saturday, Jan. 21.

Up next for Cameron: Looking like one full-length and two EPs in 2006. Will be releasing “Street Ballads & Murderesques” in January. The full band, Cameron McGill and What Army, went into the studio in November to record an EP for release early to mid-year.

What’s cool in your neck of the woods: I like going to the Charleston Bar and the Map Room mostly. The people are nice and not pretentious as hell like so many places in the now Disneyland version of Wicker Park. There, I said it.

This band blew my hair back: Years ago I used to go see Joe Cassidy and Merritt Lear on acoustic guitar and violin. Haven’t seen anything better than that in Chicago, honestly.

Tags: Cameron McGill
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Editorial Intern

May 6th, 2005

The marquee trade publication of the non-profit tree care industry organization, the International Society of Arboriculture, I assisted in the publishing of the bi-monthly/globally circulating magazine, Arborist News, writing, editing and fact-checking dense scientific and technical research into digestible stories for the full spectrum of the arboriculture community.

Noted down in ISA | Permanent link

hello, hello:

new releases ————>

la biblioteca

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

Highlights:

SXSW 2010

‘Moose!‘ (Day I), ‘Shamrock‘ (Day II), ‘East Meets West‘ (Day III), ‘Friendship Bracelets‘ (Day IV).

The shaky-vibrato baroque popster collaborates with the Brooklyn Philharmonic for a one-off baptismal exploration of sound.

Lollapalooza 2009

‘Crooked Rain‘ (Day I), ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog‘ (Day II), ‘Been Caught Stealing‘ (Day III)

Spacious new dispatches from far-out Chicago trio.

SXSW 2009

‘Nerds and Noise Ordinances’ (Day I), ‘Where’s That Confounded Bridge?’ (Day II), ’Lost in Texas’ (Day III), ‘The Hipsters are Coming’ (Day IV).

One of indie-rock’s most sought after drummers pairs up with a neo-Laurel Canyon songbird.

Pitchfork 2009

‘There Will Be No Encore’ (Day I), ‘We Miss Being Ruffians’ (Day II), ‘Do You Realize??‘ (Day III)

A collective of Chicago local bands unite to create a talent-core exposure incubator.

Pitchfork 2008

‘Looking Back on ‘Don’t Look Back’ (Day I), ‘Evolution of Hip’ (Day II), ‘Lights & Music‘ (Day III)

Highlights:

Lollapalooza 2011

‘Perry Ferrel’s Alt-Circus kicks off year 20‘ (Day I), ‘The Kids Were Not Alright‘ (Day II), ‘Foo-real Nostalgia‘ (Day III)

A piece of Matt Costa literally had to perish in order for the folk popster we all know today to take shape.

Dan Deacon choreographs a dance party, Girl Talk incite fire marshall wrath, the Klaxons destroy gear in the storied lineage of punk, more, in Chicago’s Union Park.

Highlights:

Tapping into the same spiritual curiosity he sought in a town full of psychics on Bright Eyes’ Cassadaga, Conor Oberst seeks solstice in the footsteps of Mexican lore.

Fallen alt-rock pinup Evan Dando put the shred on nostalgia last night at Chicago as the Lemonheads’ 1992 breakout album, ‘It’s a Shame About Ray’, turns old enough to drive.

Somewhere amidst the glossed over experimentations of El-P and the digital firestorm currently being explored in grime lies the Food For Animals sound.

Just-over-one-minute fuzz atop American-bred Oi! as if Stephen Malkmus was forever caught in a punk conniption fit.

Subtleties of chicka-chicka-wicka-wicka get velvet-slick when Istanbul-born Parisian-bred DJ/producer Dimitris Yerasimos brings disco and funk’s most sweaty golden hits onto the dance floor.

Archive:

Highlights:

When it comes to outdoor summer music festivals, Chicago has become pro.