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Final Fantasy at the Forum

by ian

Michelle gave me Funeral by The Arcade Fire back when we were studying in Beijing and it’s been one of my favourite records ever since.

Final Fantasy (Owen Pallett) was behind the string arrangements on that album and I’ve always associated him closely with the Arcade Fire.

This was probably largely due to the first solo record of his I heard being “This is the Dream of Win and Regine”, referencing Win Butler and Regine Chassagne, the husband and wife couple at the heart of the Arcade Fire. Owen’s lyrics suggest perfectly the challenge of sharing music that draws on the intimacy of their relationship with a wider audience.

“But – what if they like it,
And lock us in a cannery with your accordion
Until we canned our love?
We can get along
We can get along

Montreal might eat it’s young
But Montreal won’t break us down”

Before seeing him at The Forum I had cast Owen as a chronicler of the Arcade Fire,  a window into one of my favourite bands. By the end of his brief hour long set that impression was dismantled.

First and foremost he is a virtuoso musician, constructing his songs live by playing brief phrases on his violin, then looping them on top of each other.  Percussive stabs and plucks provide the rhythm for harmonies to be added a layer at a time. I’ve seen a couple of performers build up tracks in performance like that (the best was Thomas Dolby), but normally the layering and sampling is deliberate and signposted, a lesson in creating a song from components – like watching a great chef host a cooking show. Owen is instead a chef absorbed in his kitchen, focused on the taste not the audience. Instrumental constructed he becomes the consumate performer, carrying the melody with his tenor voice.

As he sings Stephanie Comilang accompanies by projecting shadows of cut out shapes onto the back of the stage. Emulating Owen’s music she manipulates layers of paper cut outs to create haunting scenes – the one in the photo below was a house gradually built on the bodies of those who lived there before.

Here’s a lame crackberry shot from the show:

And a couple of songs:

Final Fantasy – This is the Dream of Win and Regine.mp3
Final Fantasy – Sweet Fantasy (Maria Carey cover).mp3

I’d highly recommend going to see them if you get the chance.


Okkervil River at Scala review. Or, on losing that lovin’ feeling.

by michelle

“Most people, once they reach a certain age, troop through their days struggling like hell with the concept of completeness, keeping up with all the things that were ever part of them, as a way of maintaining the illusion that they bring themselves fully to life. These things usually amount to being able to remember the birthday of the first person they ’surrendered’ to, or the first calypso record they ever bought, or the poignant line in Our Town that seemed to sum life up back in 1960.”

Richard Ford – Independence Day.
(I started reading this after seeing Caribou’s Dan Snaith recommend it.)

Maybe that’s what it is for nostalgia addicts, a pathological, subconscious faith that the recollection of minutiae bolsters that vital fiction of completeness. As though the ability to recall that line or that album or that time of your life (cast in the dreamy but obscuring glow of remembrance) means you must be the same persisting person throughout the changes.

Well, that’s the sort of bittersweet, wistful, perhaps delusional nostalgia Okkervil River’s show at Scala this past Tuesday threw me right into. I like Okkervil River. In fact, I’d say in the past couple of years, I like them more than I’ve liked most bands I “like.” Enough to say they’ve left a mark on me, enough so that I’d recommend them enthusiastically to friends. But at Scala, surrounded by young kids who knew every single word to every single song, silently mouthing the lyrics so that you knew they spent many a bedroom hour listening to songs on repeat, astonished that words and melodies could so perfectly mirror their feelings–it put a stark distance between my experience and theirs.

And all of a sudden, I remembered what it was to be that kid in the front with the ingrained refrains, how it used to be to go to a show in that way. To feel such an urgent, ecstatic connection to the music, you think you are it and it is you. It slipped away from me without notice.

But thanks, Okkervil River, for making me remember again how heartbreaking phrases sung in mangled cries can make me (or my former self) feel.

(Everybody likes pictures. Bad pictures are better than no pictures. You guys will have to bear with me as I get the hang of this concert photography thing. Please tell me my pictures are shit and that I need to upgrade my camera, because, dammit, then I’ll just have to.)

Drunk with blurry lights.


Thao Nguyen at Barden’s Boudoir review

by michelle

A friend recently saw Thao in SF and told me I absolutely had to go see her. I had been reading her name all over the place, so I moseyed on over to her MySpace, fell in love with her sound, bought a ticket, and went to a great show last night.

Thao Nguyen’s folk sound has drawn comparisons to Cat Power, but I don’t really hear that. I suppose the tenor of her voice is similar, but she is so childishly gleeful without being twee (the downfall of many a female vocalist, in my opinion). Cat Power’s more somber, subdued melodies don’t really aspire towards that. I kept seeing a little girl singing to herself at the top of her lung, endearing in its lack of self-consciousness.

She was so charming and likable, while remaining a really confident guitar player. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a performer with great between-song banter. She also does a pretty impressive beatbox, which is barely audible in this recording of “Bag of Hammers.”

Thao Nguyen – Beat (Health, Life, and Fire)
Thao Nguyen – Bag of Hammers

Now for the eye candy.

Thao Nguyen 1Thao Nguyen 2Thao Nguyen 3

Look at them fingers go!


Tingtastic

by michelle

Last night I went to the Hoxton Bar and Grill to see the Ting Tings. I know, I know, I’m late to the game, and they’ve already blown up and out for those who know, but so what.

This month I heard “That’s Not My Name” and got totally addicted. I have no idea why this Drowned in Sound reviewer gets so angryabout it! It is what it is. It’s not a new branch of philosophy, it’s just really fantastic pop. And I don’t think it’s same as the commercially churned-out superpop of the ’90s because they’re not the polished puppets of a marketing machine. This is abundantly clear if you see them perform. Despite their infectious melodies, their performance is kind of ragtag in a really heartfelt way. Katie sings in an endearing shouty, pouty voice as Jules bangs the drums and sings back-up vocals.

My camera sucks, so forgive the bad photos.

Tings1

“If you close your eyes, you can feel Jesus in your heart.”

Tings2

She bangs the drums. Ar har har.

Ting Tings – That’s Not My Name


Cover your laptops, it’s a Girl Talk show.

by ian


(credit Illya on Girl Talk’s MySpace)

Last night we hit the Girl Talk show up in Dalston.

All the gigs I’d normally describe as intimate are the Unplugged in NY type – up close and personal with a band. Last night I got introduced to Girl Talk’s own brand of intimacy.

If you haven’t heard Nightripper yet, get it now. The thing that makes him so special is his ability to identify which 20 second section of a tune moves the dancefloor the hardest, and then find a place for it in an hour long mashup of other such samples.

The idea of finding the best section of a track and looping it is how hip hop started with DJs isolating the break in an old funk track and reloading it repeatedly. 2 turn tables. Given that at least 50% of Girl Talk’s samples are hip hop or funk it’s like some sort of funk and soul 2nd derrivative – the best bits of tracks built on the best bits of tracks. But it’s not just his ability to find the killer hooks – it’s how naturally he uses that filter for quality to effortlessly cross genres – from The Boredoms to Elton John to Biggie to The Pixies, all in the space of a few minutes.

2 tracks here to get you ready for the hype i’m about to drop:

Girl Talk – Once Again (mp3)

Girl Talk – Overtime (mp3)

Girl Talk is the best DJ in the world. I said it, and I challenge you to name one better. I’ve seen some good ones – Diplo, Marky, MK, Scratch Perverts, Get Down Crew (ha!). Nobody smashes a dancefloor like Girl Talk did last night.

The stage was invaded within the first 5 seconds and 200 people climbed all over each other to surround Girl Talk and his laptop – which was covered with plastic to catch the neverending stream of sweat dripping off his brow and bouncing off the keypad.

The table he was DJing off literally rotated 90 degrees as the crowd swayed back and forth around him. Calmly smiling in the middle of it all Greg just kept mixing sample after sample with a crowd literally surrounding him in a circle packed 20 deep – eye of the storm mixing.

So fucking inspiring. Bring that Get Down Crew reunion.

Respect to Bardens Boudoir for allowing that shit. That’s how a real jam should be – so intimate you’re watching the DJ’s sweat bounce of his laptop.


Point, Counterpoint. Or, maybe I should just get a Tumblr.

by michelle

Sasha Frere-Jones in The New Yorker: ‘But by the mid-nineties black influences had begun to recede, sometimes drastically, and the term “indie rock” came implicitly to mean white rock. Pavement, a group that the Village Voice rock critic Robert Christgau, in 1997, called “the finest rock band of the nineties—by critical acclamation,” embodied this trajectory.’

Ann Powers, et al in the LA Times: ‘But ‘[Frere-Jones'] piece is being read in the present tense, when in fact indie rock right now, like pop in general, is strikingly hybridized. This cross-fertilization is one of the most positive aspects of pop today. It’s been renewed by a love of dancing, cross-cultural collaborations forged on the Web, and the ever-growing diversity of fans themselves.’

It all winds down to how you define indie rock. The narrower, college rock/English major rock definition (Death Cab, Wilco, The Decemberists) vs. anything that would be reviewed in Pitchfork, but not present in the Billboard top 100 (Burial, M.I.A., CSS). I’m glad it’s hard to define.

White
Wilco – Jesus, etc.

Not exactly white
M.I.A. – Paper Planes

Am I black or white?
Michael Jackson – Black or White


Driven barmy…

by michelle

The Fall is one of those bands I know are important, I read about all the time, have been told are amazing, but for whatever reason I never made the effort to explore it for myself. I wish I could be as musically on top of everything as all the bloggers and critics I admire, but it’s just so draining. I don’t have enough heart to pass around for every amazing band of the moment, plus catch up on all the musical edumakation I’m desperately behind on. (I always feel like I’m behind.) It’s so tiring sometimes! I wonder whether the fact that technology increases the availability of music (how much gets put out and how frequently) doesn’t lessen our engagement with it.

I’m not making any shrill claims, and I certainly wouldn’t repeat David Brooks’ sentimental “it was better back in the day” chorus, but my relationship with music has changed significantly in the past 5 years. That may just be age and losing that passionate naivete. I’m grateful to technology for facilitating music discovery to an unheard of degree. I can read a wealth of interviews and reviews a click away. I can hear the music immediately, rather than hunting it down weeks later at a record store, if I remember. But in a strange way, the ease of technology creates an albatross-like imperative: because the music is there for the hearing, I feel the weight of duty to hear it. It’s no longer so innocent or left to chance. Fewer and fewer are the memorable personal stories of discovery: “I heard it while getting my haircut, wrote down the lyrics, and hunted it down” or “My first boyfriend introduced me to the Stooges,” as they are replaced by “Oh, I heard it on the internetz. Hype Machine? The Music Slut? I don’t remember.” And the music I do discover seems to last for a shorter and shorter period of time. It is probably the case that I fall in “real” love with the same number of albums per year as before, it’s just that these albums are accompanied by many, many more albums that pass into my range of hearing, clamoring for my attention. Is there such a thing as music fatigue? I know I sound like an ignorant luddite, and I’m fully aware of the bulletproof arguments against this line of thought, but I’m airing it anyway.

That said, I took it upon myself to listen to The Fall yesterday because I was reading Ann Powers’ list of Alt-Punk Essentials on eMusic. (She’s a critic for the LA Times. I <3 her.) I now understand the magnitude of their reputation. I cherish these belated discoveries, because they seem more personal, as though it took the right moment in my life to hatch, despite its greatness being there for the discovering all along. So, yes, thanks technology, I just need to figure out how to tame you.

The Fall – Barmy


Amanda Blank and Yo Majesty will step pon u.

by ian

I’ve been reloading Amanda Blank and Yo Majesty tracks hard since we caught them at the Spank Rock show during CMJ. Here’s a pic from the show. I love the way Jwl. B is fixing her cap so nonchalantly:

Amanda Blank is straight buffness. For the uninitiated her verse on Bump by Spank Rock should be all you need for convincing. But she’s got wicked variety – I’m currently loving her track on MySpace For the Unloved (Diplo Production). She sometimes posts pretty amusing stuff on Fuck Your Blog, Son. The story about her literally stepping on some dude in a bar cracked me up.

Spank Rock feat. Amanda Blank – Bump.

Yo Majesty are fucking sick but Jwl. B is on another fucking level! I just watched a interview where Beth Ditto asked them pretty lame questions. Transcript:

Beth Ditto: do you feel like you have to work harder because you are a black female in the music industry?
Jwl B (interrupting): hellll no i don’t give a damn
Beth Ditto: but do you think that other people give a damn, has it been hard?
Jwl B: well i’m gonna make it easy

She goes on to warn men not to fuck with Yo Majesty at their shows by telling a story about some guy she had to slap so hard he ricocheted on his seat.

Here’s my favourite track of theirs so far:

Yo Majesty – Kryptonite Pussy (UMYO remix)


Pure genius!

by michelle

We’ve been neck-deep in charts over here for an exciting new feature that’s in the works. Charts can be incredible in displaying certain facts. And, so, I thank my friend Fred for pointing out some charts of pure genius. (Don’t get a PhD! It’s a playa-hating degree.) I will give my annotated shortlist.

Rap represented in mathematical charts and graphs. Be sure to click on the images to listen to the song via YouTube. The best thing about this is it’s mostly from the 90s!

Can I Get It in the Morning? Jay-Z would be proud of this flow chart. No? FUCK YOU!

Places You Are Most Likely to Find Mase’s Money Hanging Out Of. As explained by “Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down.”

Fig 4A. Unified Bitch Theory, Drs. Dre and Dogg. Shit does not include bitches.

Time Spent High. Ah, the beauty of simplicity.

Wishlist. Poor Skee-lo.


A love song for when you love despite.

by michelle

This Yo La Tengo track is a perfect moody Sunday song. A delicate tribute to the much-ignored part of being in a relationship: the messy, difficult, undefinable in-between times when you’re so far in, you don’t know who’s right or wrong anymore, and what it is you’re fighting about. And yet there you are anyway because, well, is it habit, fear, or is it real?

I want to quote the lyrics so badly because they are evocative of a pulsing, familiar thing. But I won’t because I always find that lyrics read sad and bare–even cliched–when the words are unaccompanied. So just listen to the song.

Yo La Tengo – The Crying of Lot G


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