Grown Up Music

The Luciana Souza Trio, featuring Cyro Baptista, played Jazz at Lincoln Center last Thursday, April 23rd. The set was a collection of Luciana's originals (some from her popular "Brazilian Duos") and some traditional Brazilian folk tunes. Each rendition had Luciana's classy touch, unique composition and, obviously, her silky voice.

And let's not forget ol' Cyro, who added so much energy to the set that people were giggling in their seats with excitement. He hopped around (sometimes literally) between different percussion instruments, from the brazilian berimbau (a seriously crazy instrument!) to a squeaky toy (used to imitate birds in the jungle) and on to a very normal-looking tambourine, which he played with such exubrance and ease that it was almost an alien extension of himself.

Souza's guitarist, Romero Lubambo, was no slouch, either. He danced around in the harmonic range quite a bit (a difficult thing for even really talented guitarists) and played with a lot of feeling! And he worked in a variety of styles that night, busting out phrases that resonated independently with pop feeling and distinctly Brazilian harmonies.

This was a great show and I'm glad I had the opportunity to see three such wonderfully talented artists in action. Do yourself a favor and listen to some Luciana Souza. You will not be disappointed.

Men and Women

Webster Hall hosted the likes of Beach House and The Walkmen last night. To be honest, I wasn't sure I'd like the show. The Walkmen strike me as a "wave your dick around and celebrate your manhood!" kind of band and my first listen to Beach House left me feeling depressed. But, maybe I was having an off day, because these two bands played their butts off last night and I left wanting to buy all their records.

From: http://www.beachhousemusic.net/Beach_House/Shop.html

The duo that make up Beach House - Victoria Legrand (vocals, organ) and Alex Scally (guitar, keyboards), plus the occasional percussionist - create a wide-open, dreamy sound. Legrand's husky, haunting voice whispers, leaps and crawls, like a living thing. It is the stuff of sighing scenes in indie romance movies where the end must come and you know it will. You also know that someone will die and you will cry, but you will leave feeling hopeful. Meaning: it's not so much depressing as it is kind of sad but also life-affirming. It's just dreamy! Legrand's organ adds to the surreal, gossamer quality of the music, and Scally's guitar almost acts as another voice. I was entranced, trying to figure out how he made it sing. Whatever he is doing, it's beautiful.

From: http://www.brooklynvegan.com/archives/2009/02/the_walkmen_to.html

The Walkmen came on stage with a huge brass section - easily seven pieces. It was impressive. They started out with a bang, riling up the crowd of mostly men. I was pleasantly surprised by their energy. The drummer, Matt Barrick, was so much fun to watch. His energy was infectious and he worked so hard - with a big smile on his face - that it was like he had six arms. And Hamilton Leithauser put on a great show. He's a personable lead singer with a ton of character. He grabs the mic like it's alive, waiting to be tamed. And his throaty howl is arresting! I loved it! Finally, props to Paul Maroon, who rocked out on both a steel-stringed Gretsch and an upright piano and to Peter Bauer, who spent most of the concert concentrating over a tiny organ. This band - all men except Leithhauser's future wife, who plays trumpet - did not make me feel like I had to have a dick to appreciate it. As my dude said, "It's thinking mens' music." Or thinking people, as it were.

Overall, a terrific show at Webster Hall last night. The Antlers opened, but I unfortunately missed their set. Next time.

Neko and Nokia

From http://www.bloodshotrecords.com/album/middle-cyclone

From http://www.gabrielmichael.com/uploaded_images/timessq19-782809.jpg

I wouldn't necessarily say that Neko Case sold out by playing the commercial-soaked Nokia Theater in Times Square on Monday night, because she has none of the attitude of a sell-out. That's good for her, because the space and the uber-marketing that envelopes you and oozes down the walls feels a little slimy. Instead, Case and her band put on an intimate yet vivacious show.

I'd never seen Case's brand of what I'd call bluegrass pop (or is it alt-country?) live, but I was really happy to listen to her tunes. Neko's voice is clear - as a bell, as the saying goes - with sweetness and serious power behind it. And her band, with the lilting guitar, banjo, easy but steady percussion, and other vocals transported me out of the hell that is Times Square. (I'm a native New Yorker. So sue me!) In fact, I'm kind of proud of her that she was able to convey such a friendly, sweet vibe despite the Disney-fied creepiness of the place.

What do I mean by that? Well, the rules were pretty annoying. First, the bouncers insisted on holding my camera until the end of the show. After I promised I would store it in my checked coat they insisted on sending some apathetic guard to escort me to the coat check. She waited a few seconds while I stood on line, tried to look mildly interested and then trotted back upstairs. So much for the rules. I took that as my cue and headed for the bar, coat AND camera in hand, to buy a $7 billion Bud and watch the show.

So, in summary: Neko Case was very, very good. I would like to see her again, but next time in a smaller venue. Nokia, you can keep your rules. Good day to you!

Long on Name, Long on Talent!

album artwork, Dead Oceans, 2009

Browsing through Soundfix Records racks today, I spied the self-titled album by Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band among the staff picks.  I decided to buy the record after reading the store's review, which included such promises as "...bluesy guitar riffs, pumping rhythms and frenzied choruses... " and  "...led by a husband and a wife team and features their 14-year-old son on drums...".  Hmmm...tell me more!

This album does not disappoint.  There seems to be a distinct nod towards 70's rock bands, such as Yes (there are a lot of complicated, unison guitar riffs) and even The Clash (a punky urgency in the vocals), except with a little less intensity, to their credit.

The quintet does a great job, with lead singer Benjamin Verdoes (whose voice sometimes reminds me of the late Jeff Buckley's) and his wife Traci Eggleston-Verdoes (on several instruments, mostly percussion) leading the charge.  I'm so intrigued by the fact that their adopted 14 year old son plays drums on the album.  

Who's Asking, the first song on the album, begins with a frantic energy that primarily made me think of The Clash.  The percussion and guitar drive the movement of this piece, but the vocals, while soft at points, also help to keep us apace with the group's boisterous energy.

Later on, Going on a Hunt, sounds like true punk, with frenzied guitar and percussion licks, which play off of eachother in a teasing manner.  Plus, BV's voice is more anxious in this work, stressing that we keep up.  The interlude, with pretty little moments of chime and glockenspiel are truly playful and fun.

Albatross, Albatross, Albatross has a pressing, futuristic vibe.  My immediate thought was Blade Runner, until the piece moved into some very bluesy, satisfying guitar licks.  I kind of love the lyrics to this song, because we've probably all heard of Samuel Coleridge's Rime of The Ancient Mariner by now, right?  The question, "What's in the silver locket?" made me think (and giggle at an inside joke), as I remembered how the albatross hung about the ancient mariner's neck.

All in all, this album is solid and great fun.  I agree with Stereogum's assessment that they are a band to watch.  It will be fun to hear more responses to their great work as the months go on.

Blitzed Out

From http://i149.photobucket.com/albums/s42/a5453771/KarenO.jpg

This is oldish news at this point, and probably more obvious than saying that Karen O. is hot in a very intimidating way, but It's Blitz is a fucking GREAT album.

album art (Interscope Records, 2009)

All bands grow up at some point.  Or rather, they grow into themselves.  The Yeah Yeah Yeahs new album, with its sophisticated rhythms and melodies, thought-making lyrics and moving harmonies are like the 16 year old boy who's voice has finally grown into his body.  

For instance, Runaway introduces the melodic theme with a simple piano line, leading into O's sighing, craving voice crooning the lyrics:

"run, run, run away

lost, lost, lost my mind 

I'd like you to stay 

want you to be my prize" 

This bit is then layered and layered with shimmery synths, blissed out guitar licks and a dark, swooning string section.  All the while the keyboard continues to bang out its ostinato, becoming more and more echoey as we follow the band deeper into O's possibly twisted, cavernous psyche, as the lyrics portend.

Or what about Zero, with its driving rhythm, melody and O's frantic pace as a (sort of) 2009 meets 1987 take on a Chemin de Fer?  If ever a song made me want to dance--and keep on dancing--this is it!  I'd be a happy lady for a long time if Y3 could keep up this momentum, which I believe they will.

I'm so proud of these guys!  I remember when I first noticed the band in 2003 (though they released their self-titled debut in 2001).  I loved Fever to Tell (then and now, still) and looked forward to their future albums.  Lucky for us, the group, with the genius front-woman KO leading the helm, now holds sway with serious others who have moved from experimenting their craft to perfecting it.  God I love this band!

Need a Laugh? Race You to the Unemployment Office!

I was nearly an hour late for the Unemployment Olympics and worried that I would have missed the days events, including Fax Toss (sort of like bacci but...with fax machines), Pin the Blame on the Boss (featuring a pinata filled with PayDays that was busted open by a man brandishing an office phone) and the You're Fired Race (in which participants had to race to a makeshift unemployment office crafted from cardboard boxes).  However, it turns out I was right on time.  As I walked into the entrance of Tompkins Square Park on E. 10th and Avenue A, I learned from a fellow unemployed person that Fax Toss had just begun.  

I chatted for a few minutes about the event with this dude, first initial D, who used to be a "high-end residential interior decorator".  He explained that his job was to either gut and renovate or redecorate people's homes, ranging from specifics such as plumbing, wall furnishings or even decorative applications like venetian plaster.  D was there to check it out and get a laugh, just like me. Thanks to Nick Goddard's outlandish sense of humor and fun, the entire crowd was able to let loose and have a laugh.  

After losing his job as an options trader in February 2009, Nick decided to create the Unemployment Olympics as a way to liven people's spirits.  Thankfully, due to the terrific spring weather, the goofy games, Nick's cheery, youthful attitude, and the serious prizes (gift certificates to Lula's Sweet Apothecary, $40 Curly Bucks to Curly's Vegetarian Lunch or a $50 bar tab at the Cubby Hole, among others) folks left smiling and thanking Nick for brightening their day.  

I thoroughly enjoyed myself and even forgot for a little while that I was unemployed.  Being able to laugh and knowing that I wasn't alone while I did so made the entire situation a little bit sweeter.  Thanks, Nick!  Please do this again.

There's a Hotel in Bushwick?!

Well, probably somewhere. But I'm talking about The Market Hotel: the home of several young folks off the Myrtle stop of the M train that also serves as an informal concert space. The frenetic, all-ages show on March 28th featured Vampire Hands, These are Powers and headlined WaVVes.

The setting was kind of perfect for all the bands, each one defining the word "loud" in their own dialect. Vampire Hands, a group of seemingly nice boys from Minnesota, began their set with a frenzy of energy and limbs that one only finds among the most passionate musicians (or, perhaps, the most coked up). In their case, I like to think it was the former. For my part, I most enjoyed Colin Johnson's (vocals/percussion) performance. He really gave it his all, beating the crap out of a tom, shaking a tambourine with great vigor, dancing his butt off, and doing a bang-up job as lead singer for the band's cover of a Stooges tune, their final song. I couldn't stop shaking it (bootay, I mean) myself, leaving the floor sweaty and craving another ice-cold $3 Busch.

These Are Powers have a big sound. Much too big and energetic for the narrow space of The Market Hotel. I don't know what their sound - ghost punk - means, nor will I attempt to deconstruct their invented genre. It's just big and FULL of power. The lead singer's (Anna Barie's) voice both drowned out and was drowned out by the heavy treble of the guitarist (sharing a striking resemblance to Bonnie Prince Billy) and the various electronic instruments played by the third, baseball-cap-wearing member of the band. It was a pretty confusing set, all in all. I had a hard time getting a grasp of their tunes, because of the sheer noise of the set. Having listened to their synthy, tribal-infused music, though, I can understand all the hype - the album, Terrific Seasons (Hoss, 2007) is pretty solid! I'd love to see them in a bigger space.

Finally, WaVVes, a project headed by 22 year-old San Diegan (Diegoan... sp?), Nathan Williams, featured fuzzy, ecstatic, guitar-and-drum-laden pop that nearly caused a riot among the frenzied, moshing, all-ages crowd. My friend had to act as a human shield to me at one point, I was so in danger of either being trampled by rabid 15 year olds or thrown into a pile of Vampire Hands' drums laid hastily against the wall. It was so exciting!

After a day or two of being able to digest the events, I realize that WaVVes, These Are Powers and Vampire Hands all together was one of the more powerful shows I've ever seen. It felt like "real" rock 'n roll. The grime, the narrow space, the sweat, the raw energy of the entire crowd - it was pretty awe-inspiring. Especially for someone just beginning to sink her teeth into the grungy, blurry, frenetic feast of this new/old rock 'n roll that is emerging from the ironic (thanks for the idea about that, C) ashes of the mid-2000s indie scene.

I can't wait to go back to The Market Hotel! A note to the ladies: wear your crappiest shoes.