The end of summer doesn’t have to be cold, seeing as though September brings forth so much musical heat. This month’s CMJ New Music Monthly digital compilation features 24 artists bringing forth their new tracks from a range of different genres:
Tracklist (artist//track//album//label):
01. Of Montreal // Coquet Coquette // False Priest // Polyvinyl
02. Screaming Females // I Don’t Mind It // Castle Talk // Don Giovanni
03. Winter Gloves // Plastic Slides // All Red // Paper Bag
04. The Hundred In The Hands // Dressed In Dresden // Self-titled // Warp
05. Underworld // Always Loved A Film // Barking // Om
06. Superpitcher // Rabbits In A Hurry (Radio Edit) // Kilimanjaro // Kompakt
07. Deluka // Nevada // You Are The Night // Vel
08. Bilal // Restart // Airtight’s Revenge // Plug Research
09. Electric Sunset // Palace // Electric Sunset // K
10. Nortec Collective Presents Bostich+Fussible // I Count The Ways // Bulevar 2000 // Nacional
11. Mice Parade // In Between Times // What It Means To Be… // Fat Cat
12. The Lonely Forest // I Don’t Want To Live There // Self-titled EP // Trans
13. The Drums // Down By The Water // The Drums // Downtown
14. Vincent Minor // Heavy Metal Lover // Vincent Minor // Social Science
15. Junip // Always // Fields // Mute
16. Azure Ray // Don’t Leave My Mind // Drawing Down… // Saddle Creek
17. The Acorn // Restoration // No Ghost // Bella Union
18. Frankie Rose And The Outs // Little Brown Haired Girls // Self-titled // Slumberland
19. How To Dress Well // You Won’t Need Me Where I’m Goin’// Love Remains // Lefse
20. The Thermals // I Don’t Believe You // Personal Life // Kill Rock Stars
21. Crocodiles // Sleep Forever // Sleep Forever // Fat Possum
22. Prince Rama // Lightening Fossil // Shadow Temple // Paw Tracks
23. MF Doom // Act I: Part 5. Beef Rap // Expektoration… Live // Gold Dust
24. Salem // Asia // King Night // IAMSOUND
Our interns proved themselves extremely resourceful when making a Lucy from Peanuts-style Psychiatric Help booth out of cardboard boxes one crafty afternoon. Rev. Moose convinced Devo’s Jerry Casale to step inside the box and answer a few questions from the audience.
The perfect Tweedledee-Tweedledum combo. All photos by Anna Delany.
“Aww don’t give me this shit,” Edan says to a room full of people booing at him and his rap buddy Paten Locke. They’re not being booed because of traditional boo-like reasons, such as being terrible, or apathetic, or assholes to their crowd. Edan’s being booed because he won’t give us more. “I played you a movie, and I DJed for like an hour!”
This evening we have been witness to the Edan Variety Show, which I imagine is kind of like being inside his cosmically tie-dyed sci-fi brain. It’s a jubilantly eccentric place, where things sound like “molecules having sex” (yes, this is a direct quote). As Edan said, we saw a movie (Echo Party, the visual component to this year’s release of the same name), he DJed for like an hour (with solemn precision) and then the proverbial pulling of the pin on his musical grenade was Edan himself. His live performance involved xylophones! Fellow rappers (Paten Locke – less of a wingman and more of an equal and steadying force)! Props such as flowers! Kazoos! Ingenuity! Intelligent jokes and rap references! And moments like this:
Stepping aboard a Rocks Off cruise feels much like embarking on a fantastical musical colonization of the East River. With Math The Band featured in last night’s show, that fantastical journey got a whole lot more frantic.
As the boat circled in front of Lady Liberty, the Rhode Island duo kicked things off in and amongst a miasma of overwhelming soundscapes, heralding their arrival on the makeshift ’stage’ at the bow of the boat. Eclectic influences reminiscent of Architecture In Helsinki and early 2000s pop-punk bands were immediately obvious as the band played a selection of songs from their album Don’t Worry (released via Slanty Shanty), even though they did initially announce they were playing a set of “17 Andrew WK covers.”
Math The Band’s energetic live set is 25min of life-in-fast-forward. Out of their bedroom, (which we’d imagine to be full of possessed amiga commodore 8-bit computer and dusty Nintendo systems) and onto the stage, the audience truly appreciates the tenacity, vigor and energy that translates so well in the room. Kevin’s interaction with a microphone resembles a Sesame Street doll on speed, while his stage partner Justine performs hip-dislocating aerobics whilst playing a tambourine – the resultant mix a potent, heart racing experience that leaves everyone trying to catch their breath.
While Dylan and Rau from Brooklyn band Bear Hands talk to Moose about touring with Passion Pit and their forthcoming album, all we really want to hear them explain is how they want to ‘pound the Bishop’.
Yes he is lighting his tongue on fire. All photos by David Potes.
Certifiably insane yes; certifiably genius maybe; but out of all the things you could call Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, I never knew that ‘horny old man’ was one of them. Until now. “Did he just say ‘I love pussy and I love the sea’!?” a girl at the front asked her friend. In a thick patois accent it was hard to tell, but yes, yes he did.
So here we have Mr. Perry (anyone over the age of 70 deserves the prefix ‘Mr.’ in front of their name) flouncing around the stage like a king, tiny in stature but colossal in importance. He has a regal air about him, but that could just be put down to the giant home-painted in Jamaican colors Timberland-style boots he’s clomping around in (“there’s a USB drive tied to his shoe,” my friend observes), or the fact that he is probably stoned out of his mind. As a related aside, a few years ago Mr. Perry told me in a very bizarre interview that he only drinks marijuana tea nowadays, as smoking it is too harsh. Since he’s a Rastafarian – sans dreads yet with a head of hair dyed in a slap-dash mixture of vibrant greens, blues and pinkish reds – who also touts the wonders of weed whilst condemning cigarettes onstage, it’s not much of a stretch to say that his high is our sober.
It was indie rock vs. nature at Pier 54 with New Jersey’s resident breeze-rockers Real Estate and Atlanta art-punk mainstays Deerhunter doing battle against an overcast sky and a legion of umbrella-toting concert-goers. Would Real Estate’s sunny psych-jams be strong enough to outshine the clouds? Or would Deerhunter’s dream-pop drones turn this into a real-life Rainwater Cassette Exchange? These were the types of lame sportscaster-turned-rock-critic puns I thought of while waiting for the concert to start. Luckily, the bands came on before I could think of any more.
Classic rock isn’t a very big part of indie music today, but DFA act Free Energy are doing their best to keep it alive. At a show for SPIN Magazine’s SPIN House Live, the Philadelphia fivesome rocked out during a short set that saw them play tracks off their self-titled debut as well as a new song. Kicking off with their eponymous track, singer Paul Sprangers brought the classic rock moves, doing his best to imitate Robert Plant’s strutting. Sadly, the guitarists did not comply with any power slides. Either way, the set was high-energy (it is free, after all) and filled with soaring hooks, gang vocals, guitar solos and, of course, a cowbell. Someone in the audience who was unfamiliar with their work asked his partner whether these guys were supposed to sound like the best Cheap Trick tribute band ever. That’s not far off, as the rockers are all about the good times, evidenced by their smiles throughout. Here was a band that, more than anything, loved what they were doing, and it showed in their attitude on stage. The 30-minute show ended with single “Bang Pop”, which had more than a few of the previously quiet audience to sing along with the infectious chorus. Bang bang pop pop, indeed.
Well, what to even make of Lollapalooza at this point? The venerable touring festival turned destination festival has made it to its third decade, weathered innumerable musical trends and the implosion of anything resembling consensus taste or a unified alternative scene (whatever that could mean) and did good business in one of the worst concert seasons in memory, with reportedly record attendance for the standalone, Grant Park version of the show, due in part to stage reorganization.
And for its troubles, it often feels like a Warped Tour for older people with (on average) better tastes and better fashion sense. (Though there were neon crimes to be found at the dance tent.) But just the sheer-glut of music on display (there’s somewhere around 5 million bands across 8 thousand stages), the hit-all-the-demos-to-pack-as-many-people-as-possible feel and the constant barrage of ads (every stage has a sponsor, and I still have no idea what the hell Bloggie is) can make one feel like they’ve just spent a weekend at the hottest, loudest, most rebellious mall in the world.
But, you know, some of my best memories involve time spent at the mall, magical land of Auntie Anne’s pretzels and Street Fighter II sequels. Heck, it’s probably where I did a lot of early music shopping. So if it wasn’t particularly groundbreaking (for which we have Coachella or various European fests), dangerous (for which we have DIY fests) or cohesive (though I’m sure there’s people who enjoy Social Distortion, Lady Gaga and Raphael Saadiq equally), the twelfth Lollapalooza certainly was a lot of fun once you quit thinking about what a Budweiser-sponsored tent means about the spirit of alternative rock that got this thing started and was supposed to save us from Republicans and lame arena rock forever. And hey, it was hot out. Best to just focus on the riffs and what Gaga and Julian were wearing.
To which: a silver unitard and blue, glittery, Blade Runner eye masks. (Uh, Gaga, not Julian.) After her rather muscular, mohawked back-up dancer asked “what is the Monster’s Ball all about?” Gaga calmly, between several voluminous shrieks, explained that it was a way her and her fans could be weirdos together. Because, after all, we were all born superstars. She repeated this several times throughout the set, so it must be important. There was also a lengthy monologue about the diamond bra she designed years ago that was somehow inspired by Marc Bolan of T. Rex (no idea here) and was some sort of metahphor for freedom (no idea here either.) In-between several other amazing rants, she performed songs both epic (“Telephone”) and wretched (“Love Game”) while aided by waxed, shirtless male dancers who clearly had not eaten carbs in years, as well as two beefy, be-leathered guitarists killing time between auditions for Broadway’s Paradise City Lost: The Slash Story. At the other side of the festival, The Strokes, significantly less beefy but still rather be-leatherd, performed a tight, swaggering set that finally lived up to those Pearl Jam influences these boys used to claim in interviews. They sounded confident and huge, which makes me hopefully for an eventual new album, but there were no new songs, which makes me doubtful, so let’s keep the optimism at a cautious level.
This wasn’t Saturday night, but this is Meshell playing in Brooklyn.
“You are SO COOL!” someone yelled from the audience at Meshell, who was jamming out behind thick skittle red frames. As usual her hair was shorn regally down to nothing, and while her music stand that was propped up very tall made it look like she was just a bobbing head there for a minute, she was still a bobbing head that looked so goddamn cool.
Ndegeocello’s speaking voice is just like her singing one; low, smooth, ridiculously and unintentionally libidinous and likely to seduce both men and women alike. When deployed in conjunction with her bass, shit was a no brainer and we waded like lambs into a pool of sex – sex we were having aurally with a bunch of strangers – where every song was a call to action.
Freddie Gibbs may be a gangsta rap artist, but he’s also kinda a gentleman. We could tell from the way he shook hands with us three times during the interview we shot for CMJ TV.
Things to look out for in our forthcoming interview? Possible collaborations with Heather Locklear, guns, life in Gary, Indiana (also the birthplace of Michael Jackson).
P.S. best name ever award goes to Freddie’s manager, Archibald Bonkers. Bonkers!
Naples, Florida-bred alternative punk quartet Fake Problems will releaae their third album, Real Ghosts Caught On Tape, on September 21 via SideOneDummy. It is difficult to pigeonhole Fake Problems’ sound, which has resulted in a diverse list of touring companions ranging from fellow west Floridians Against Me! to the alt-country band Murder By Death to mathcore stars The Dillinger Escape Plan.
Adding to their quirky reputation, Real Ghosts features guest appearances by real-life television stars and friends of the band Mae Whitman and Alia Shawkat of the cult classic show Arrested Development. The band will finish up their stint on the Warped Tour in mid-August before heading back out on the road with Gaslight Anthem in September. CMJ caught up with lead singer Chris Farren to ask a few questions via e-mail.
“I think they’ll jump out the window of the boat,” says the woman next to me. I nod in agreement. It’s a definite possibility. When a band with a reputation for chaos like Black Lips play a set in an unconventional location like the kinda cool but kinda silly Rocks Off Concert Cruise, it’s reasonable for people to have some ridiculous expectations. I mean, the last time I saw these Atlanta, Georgia garage rock goofballs they smashed a guitar right at the beginning of their set, made-out with each other, blew a fire extinguisher into the audience and encouraged the crowd to rush the stage. And this was at a festival show. Unleashing these guys on a cruise ship makes the mind reel with possibilities: Will the boat crash on Gilligan’s Island and the Lips will be forced to play a basketball game against a team of opponents selected by a corporate raider a la The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island? Or, will Nathan Williams from Wavves stow away on the boat as a cook and attempt to assassinate every member of the Lips a la Steven Segal in Under Siege? Or, will they just, you know, play music?
For the most part Seu Jorge wasn’t singing in English, and for the most part this suited the audience, who (also for the most part) wasn’t speaking English. From the crowd’s enthusiasm it seems that Jorge is a bit of a Brazilian hero, and his comrades were there to cheer him on in Portuguese. While the former is only an assumption, the following is fact: Jorge is also one of very few men to sport a fedora sans any level of douchery, an impressive feat in itself.
Also an impressive feat was that he, plus two of his fellow band members comprising Almaz, can wear sunglasses inside the club without scorn. It’s mainly due to their Brazilian cool (everyone wants to be Brazilian, didn’t you know) as Jorge smoldered around in his impressive baritone.
Jorge and Almaz’s new release is comprised of a bunch of covers, and backtracking to his Wes Anderson Life Aquatic days there was some David Bowie thrown in there. It was framed however amongst more recent stuff (i.e. the new album in its entirety); the going-down-to-the-beach-with-my-pants-rolled-up version of Roy Ayers’ “Everybody Loves The Sunshine” and the equally relaxed now-I’m-by-the-pool-with-some-kind-of-colorful-cocktail rendition of Michael Jackson’s “Rock With You.” Most of the other songs this monolingual English speaker sadly couldn’t sing to, but that’s part of Jorge’s appeal. Instead you just stand, and watch, and wish that you were a better person who could speak double the languages that you do now.
With an almost overwhelming stable of great new albums, August doesn’t let us down. This month’s edition of the CMJ New Music Monthly digital compilation features 22 artists and their new tracks:
Tracklist (artist//track//album//label):
01. Tub Ring // Stop This (NOW!) // Secret Handshakes // The End
02. Apocalyptica // End Of Me feat. Gavin Rossdale // 7th Symphony // Jive
03. NOFX // Everything In Moderation (Especially Moderation) // The Longest EP // Fat Wreck Chords
04. !!! // AM/FM // Strange Weather, Isn’t It? // Warp
05. Matthew Dear // I Can’t Feel // Black City // Ghostly International
06. The Pinker Tones // Tokyo // Modular // Nacional
07. The Budos Band // Unbroken, Unshaven // The Budos Band III // Daptone
08. Wavves // King Of The Beach // King Of The Beach // Fat Possum
09. David Dondero // Wherever You Go // # Zero With A Bullet // Team Love
10. Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band // Leaving Trails // Where The Messengers Meet // Dead Oceans
11. PVT // Window // Church With No Magic // Warp
12. Exile // Your Summer Song feat. J. Mitchell // AM/FM // Plug Research
13. Jenny Wilson // Only Here For The Fight // Hardships! // Gold Medal
14. Ferraby Lionheart // Harry And Bess // The Jack… // Self-Released
15. Isobel Campbell And Mark Lanegan // Come Undone // Hawk // Vanguard
16. Darker My Love // Dear Author // Alive As You Are // Dangerbird
17. Kathryn Calder // Slip Away // Are You My Mother? // File: Under Music
18. Chief // Night And Day // Modern Rituals // Domino
19. Polock // Fireworks // Getting Down From The Trees // Nacional
20. Dead Confederate // Giving It All Away // Sugar // Razor & Tie
21. Dominant Legs // Clawing Out At The Walls // Young At Love… // Lefse
22. Bebe Buell // Sugar // Sugar // A2Z Entertainment
To jam or not to jam? That was the question at the heart of last night’s Built To Spill show at the recently rechristened Irving Plaza. The Idaho based quintet has two modes on record: jumpy, guitar-heavy janglers or expansive, cavernous slow-burners. Sometimes a particular album will lean more on the former (1999’s Keep It Like A Secret) or the latter (1997’s Perfect From Now On) or they’ll just make a mash-up of the two styles (2009’s There Is No Enemy). But like fellow ’90s guitar titans Dinosaur Jr., the group is a different beast in a live setting. Pop-gems can be saddled with extended solos and the more meandering tracks often transform into snarling vistas of crumbling feedback and melodic noodling as lead singer Doug Martsch and the two other guitarists sling riffs back and forth. It can be euphoric/meditative or masturbatory/indulgent, depending on where you fall on the great pro/con solo continuum.
