I don't know that I'm using the term right, but this is the title that came to me.
Last night I went with Michael and Caleb and Serge to the Wiltern to catch the Chanteuse.
Regina Spektoralicious. I had written her an email a long time ago back when she was more of an unknown. A friend gave me Soviet Kitsch which I found to be full of ecletic talent. I never heard back, but you know, big deal. I don't like responding to strangers either -- ("Yo, Regina, check out my Myspace.")
So over the last few weeks, I've been streaming "Samson" online. The song always moves me in the way that songs that reconfigure iconic Biblical imagery into the personal are prone to do. How beautiful. She must of have been the other woman that Samson dated. Or Delilah wasn't a total bitch, it was love-play. He must have looked so cute with short hair.
Every time I've heard it, I've been a little awed by the beauty of her voice, the twinge of foreshadowing that graces her telling of an old myth, the intimacy, the poignancy, oinancy, boinancy. . .I've shed tear. That's all you need to know.
So I was looking forward to seeing her live, because I'd already experienced the recording as a personal encounter.
What I liked about the show, I will share after I say what I didn't like about the show.
Overall, I loved the show.
But there was a pitch problem with the auto-screaming that started when Regina appeared. Michael explained to me today that a lot of her fans are young girls, hence the pitchiness of the screaming. The screaming! The SCREAMING! It was intense and unpleasant. Admittedly, I had had an espresso before the show, so maybe I was on edge, but I thought I wasn't going to be able to take it. Thankfully, at some point the auto-screaming stopped and they actually started responding to her in real time and there was phrasing and dynamics to the screaming -- which I was cool with.
Dammit. Maybe I'm just an old bitch.
She has a childlike quality, mostly represented by an outfit consisting of empire dress and black tights, and holding her elbows out to both sides when drinking from a plastic bottle of water. I liked it better when in the middle of the set once she'd warmed up-she took a swig with one hand like a real woman.
Her voice is amazing. Elastic and fearless. She's at her best when she's doing incredibly clever, experimental songs, or singing immaculate compositions like "Samson." With the former, she's almost onomonopoetic in the way that she's willing to expand, contract, parse, cluck, croon, bellow, fartdance with her voice. With the latter, her gifts as a songwriter, poet and interpreter shine undeniable shines. The material in between these two poles seemed to be less memorable vehicles for vocal experimentation. Her range and control is consistent and impressive, but sometimes the flawless performance seemed led more by whim than song content. She would step out of the songs to repeat phrases in a way that seemed intended to highlight the "liveness" of the performance. This was definitely interesting, but I found it easier to adore her when she simply used her considerable skills to serve the songs.
She got on stage during the encore or maybe it was before with the young man who opened the show for her and he beat boxed and she sang with percussive abandon. I liked that, too.
This is what happens when Adult Swim characters get invited to party
Foraging the internet Sunday for tidbits on mc chris (you call this another headache? I call this a revolution) meant stumbling upon the nerdcore authority’s personal Myspace blog. The Adult Swim artist's latest entry detailed his ecstasy in being offered an invite to the Playboy Mansion's Halloween annual last Saturday, but that he was presently on his way to Los Angeles from Reno and in a desperate need for a cloak to complete his aspiring Boba Fette costume. His playboy model-date was going to be Leia and therefore the artist properly known as Chris Ward needed an outfit. Badly. The blog was his world wide web attempt to ask that someone please lend him this outstanding article of clothing as his tour made its way south.
The rapper landed in Los Angeles on Monday to perform his cheeky hyped up tribute to X-boxes and the Star Wars, two rants for which he's now become almost notorious. “Music for the masses,” he told his Knitting Factory audience.
Sometime after systematically trying to kill everybody (hold your finger in the air and don't stop singing till you're ourt of air? No, I do not consider the word "killing" an understatement at all), Ward filled all of us internet hounds in on the raging details: the final costume was picked up just in time from a zealous fan near Vegas. The party was amazing, the outfit was a hit, I'll leave out all of the details but Pauly Shore was there and oh, how he looked great in person. In between raps on Robotussin and Buddy Holly, the sound of a model's dignity dying could could be heard from the outskirts of Los Angeles.
Why the leaving out of details, you ask? Because, dear reader, I'm not sure that that costume will not be in returning condition anytime soon. Three cheers for Vegas patrons and for Playboy models bringing us nerdcore rappers back in one peace.
You know when you actually feel music, rather than hear it? Or watch it, in the case of Broken Social Scene and its umpteen number of musicians carousing about the stage with every performance. This band is a reminder why not all of us can do for a living what it is these people do, and why the rest of us need to take communication classes. Human Emotions 101.
Last night the seven remaining Scene members took the Orpheum stage downtown to celebrate the release of lead vocalist Kevin Drift's "solo" album, titled "Spirit If..." The family of this group is so strong that the album's attribution could not even bare to shed a single word, "The Broken Social Scene Presents: Kevin Drew."
If were are to learn a thing or two, we would see that it is about connection with these guys. After performing "Cause=Time" ("This is a mouth that needs religion"), Drew demanded that all audience member stand. I greatly understood the urgency behind this request and the message that an entirely standing audience may send (read: harmony), but both I and my designated driver had previously spent close to an hour circling Little Tokyo on foot, trying to find a grocery store that cashed personal checks. (With no avail it would come to you too as a brand new low when homeless ask for change and quite literally you are two seconds away from asking them for cab fare.)
Kevin Drew would grade you on sharing. Sharing things and sharing people. Things: at one point Drew offered his water bottle to a dehydrated looking fan toward the front. People: Andrew King from American Analog Set stepped in on guitar, and James (Jimmy) Shaw from Metric was covering for someone's broken collar bone.
Kevin Drew would grade you on togetherness. When Scene vet Emily Haines made a surprise cameo for "Anthem of a Seventeen Year old Girl"(everyone as standing at this point and I am so glad i wore flats), the energy actually shifted. It more or less opened up and swallowed everybody. Imagine seeing this woman on stage bounce to visit some of her closest friends, and imagine seeing from your back row seat the happiest smile on eight people's faces.
If you're still with me on this, Kevin Drew gives you an 'A.'
Thursday FREE! / All Ages! Doors @ 10:00 PM November 1st, 2007
Entry is FREE and ALL AGES
For entry you MUST go to Amoeba Records on October 30th from 6-9 p.m. to pick up a wristband.
To obtain a wristband to the show just add Secret Shows as your friend and bring a printout of your profile with Myspace Secret Shows US in your Top 8.
*Wristbands will be available at the Information desk.* *Only one wristband per person.*
Amoeba Records is located at: 6400 W Sunset Blvd Los Angeles, CA 90028 323.245.6400
Show/Screening Location: The Vista Theatre 4473 Sunset Blvd. @ Hollywood Blvd Los Angeles, CA 90027 323.660.6639
Pre-order new Sigur Ros album, 'Hvarf Heim' here. Pre-order new Sigur Ros DVD, 'Heima' here.
My Hard Drive Ate My Music Collection: #1: Through The Wilderness, A Tribute To Madonna
With all of the "Radiohead-destroyed-the-music-industry" hype that's circling the net right now, you've doubtlessly heard that NIN & Madonna have (in their own way) followed suit. So I'm not gonna talk about that. I also feel like there's a more important issue at hand--this weekend something horrible happened: my external hard drive crashed and took with it my 100+ GB music library. As a result, I've freeloaded from the internet's countless mp3 blogs. This is post #1 in a series of what we can call, "Desperate Picks" or, "My Hard Drive Ate My Music Collection And These Are The Highlights Of What Was Available To Highlight."
I've heard some of this, and I must say--it's certainly not bad. Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti, Lavender Diamond, Giant Drag, and Mountain Party are all great artists and I am definitely interested in hearing them do their best Madonna. If you're interested and would like to hear more, I've taken the liberty of directly linking to some available downloads (courtesy of stereogum). But please consider the fact that all proceeds benefit Raising Malawi, so buy it (even if you only buy one album for the next 6 months). Orphans with AIDS need the ten/twelve/however many dollars you know you'll only spend on cigarettes anyway (after you download the album from someone on soulseek).
Official Track List (Manimal Vinyl, 29 October 2007)
Jonathan Wilson "La Isla Bonita" Golden Animals "Beautiful Stranger (Blues)" Winter Flowers "Live To Tell" Mountain Party "Material Girl" Jeremy Jay "Into The Groove" Ariel Pink "Everybody" Giant Drag "Oh Father" The Tyde "Hung Up" Alexandra Hope "Lucky Star" The Chapin Sisters "Borderline" Apollo Heights "Dress You Up" The Bubonic Plague "Who's That Girl?" The Prayers "Cherish" Lion of Panjshir "Crazy for You" Lavender Diamond "Like A Prayer" Siddhartha "Holiday" (iTunes only) Pangaeans "Impressive Instant" (iTunes only)
I don’t understand why this record was so anticipated. It is exactly what the title claims—Most of the Remixes We’ve heard it all before, and all of it is pretty hard to swallow in one gulp—it gave me a stomach-ache. I think that if my hard drive hadn’t crashed I probably wouldn’t have listened to it 6 times in a row, like Audioscrobbler forces me to admit. But the mash-up is king, and Soulwax tends to reign supreme in that region so I must give credit where credit is due.
1. If you’ve ever wondered whether or not it would be possible to turn Kylie Minogue’s, Can’t Get You Outta My Head into a really freaking cool track (and I have no idea why one would ever wonder such a thing, but) the answer is yes. Yes it is possible to turn that over-played-what should’ve been 90’s-house hit into an uber-hip track that fits comfortably between a remix of Justice’s Phantom Pt. II and Gorillaz’ DARE. Thank you Soulwax.
2. I must also admit that the remix of Six Days is seriously out of control. I mean, so out of control that it almost promotes me to use the phrase 'off-the-hook.' Almost. But I fail to understand the connection between the original DJ Shadow track and the B-52’s song that Soulwax threw into the mix, but suffice it to say that a track once conventionally added to playlists called 'chill-out' now unduly deserves to be included in something (equally conventional, but) closer to ‘dance-groove’ or [insert generically titled dance playlist here].
So yea—while sometimes, the compilation does get a little bit too ravey, and at other times has me wondering if Soulwax could actually be serious about releasing something so cheesey—I assure you that when taken in small doses it will not allow your fingers to turn into glow sticks, and will not have you rolling on the floor. But if rolling on the floor's your bag, and you live in Europe, then check out Soulwax/2 Many DJ's at Night Versions, where they'll be performing these remixes live. Those of us in the US will have to be content with playing the CD over and over again.
I read an article the other day that described Radiohead (this is NOT another In Rainbows rant, relax) as belonging to the generation before us. Okay. This is the experimental noise group that went mainstream during the “generation” before ours. Godspeed our search for a tactile group with similar intentions and a debut inside this decade. Perhaps The Mars Volta, wherever they are…
Musical “generations” are not like time lapses in any other artistic medium. Changes in film styles tend to occur in ten or fifteen year lumps, determined largely by budgets and technological advances. Trends in canvas art can pick up in a matter of years but are also susceptible to derivative lulls drawn out by societal and regional changes (lowbrow is considered a very “west coast” form, having been born from underground commix and hot rod car-culture. Oh, how LA.)
Music is the only medium that moves very, very quickly. So quickly that we are able to call out a difference between a still working band and another that have released material within the same decade. In music terms, a “generation” could be a mere five years.
Exhibit A) Shirley Manson. This fiery redhead pranced out from the hills of Scotland sometimes around the early 90’s, and the height of American grunge and a general “screw the industry” movement that was crossing borders all around. Immediately the femme was criticized greatly when she first started because for having big wheel Butch Vig backing her “mediocre” vocals and for the love of God, for being a female who didn’t play guitar. Shame on her for being a “performer” and not a “singer” (what does that even mean? I’ll save it for another day…)
News flash: we were not looking for Kathleen Hannah at this time in history. We were looking for a front woman. Period. Manson fit the bill and appropriately pissed off a lot of people when she superceded and proved amazing. Male musicians from the grunge spin specifically were banking on aestheticism to fail (God forbid someone with the slightest fashion sense step foot on a stage.) It was a backlash.
It was the beginning of something else. Not neccessirly something better or more original, just something else.
Watching the Pipettes at The Echoplex last Thursday was like sitting through the first Reagan conference and realizing holy (fill in the black), things are going to change.
Exhibit B) Nixon, while we’re on the topic of Presidents. This is not to say that in five years all female musicians who are anything blonde with choreographed outfits. I mean to express that yes, there are moments in history when things rollover and change out, and that sometimes when we’re still enough, we can spot them before they happen.
Exhibit C) Back to Basics. The girls’ shtick is one blonde, one brunette, one redhead, and short mod dresses equal cookie-cutter cute. Add some shaking moves to that mix and you’ve got a recipe for something. For what? Well, I attended the show to figure that out. Think of The Supreme, only British, and one blonde, one brunette, one redhead. Bloody hell.
In all fairness the very thought has been done before. The Pipettes were not there, let alone had never set out, to prove to you otherwise.
This is not a matter of originality. Their in sync hairstyles, giggles, harmonies, outfits and gesticulations made very sure you knew this. Something new is not what we, as god-loving listeners, need right now. We are not looking for Kathleen Hannah. Maybe we just crave a reprieve.
These ladies may not be solely responsible for ushering in the next movement, but they are definitely in the forefront. When we look back and wonder which bands were in the midst of something furious and novel at the time, do not be surprised if the Pipettes have managed their way on the list.
1. Looking For A Thrill: An Anthology of Inspiration (2005) dir. Braden King--This documentary was released in honor of Thrill Jockey's 10th anniversary. It's basically a collection of over 100 interviews with some of the greats, in which they describe their own moments of musical inspiration. Highlights include interviews with Ian MacKaye (Minor Threat, Fugazi), Mike Watt (Minutemen, fIREHOSE, Banyan, etc), Steve Albini (Rapeman, Shellac, Big Black, etc), Bjork, and Thurston Moore (who actually got to see Suicide @ CBGB's in '74--not many people can boast about that.) View the trailer:
2. The Last Waltz (1978) dir. Martin Scorsese--This documentary of The Band's last show includes performances by Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Neil Young, Muddy Waters, Van Morrisson, and more. Highlights include Joni Mitchell with The Band, performing Coyote, and the superstar-studded finale:
3. Gimme Shelter (1970) dir. Albert Maysles, David Maysles, Charlotte Zwerin--It was a toss up between this flick & the Rolling Stones' Rock 'n' Roll Circus (1968), but I could probably write for days about Rock 'n' Roll Circus (for reasons such as this performance by The Who), so in the interest of space & time, Gimme Shelter wins. The film chronicles the entire story of the free 1969 Rolling Stones concert that took place at San Francisco's Altamont Speedway and was policed by the Hell's Angels. What could've been a totally rad idea resulted in the death of (at least) 2 (allegedly) innocent fans, and is marked as the concert that "ended the 60's". View the trailer:
SIA: The name I’ve heard a gazillion times. Well since our own little orphans Eagle and Talon had gone on tour with her and the Six Feet Under hit single, I thought it was time to experience the Australian wonder-ess.
Last night’s sold out show at the El Rey Theatre opened with Willoughby. A super tall guy with a warm calm voice (Gus Seyffert) backed with another tall guy (Charlie Wadhams) on tambourine and vocals and a short dude (Bram Inscore) on bass and a guy whose size I couldn’t tell that was playing drums. It was the perfect set and they even did a cover of John Lennon’s “I’m Losing You”.
Well where do we start with Sia? As soon as the curtains opened the whole band had on glow in the dark children’s painted outfits on. It was likes these floating cartoons performing. After the first song finished Sia introduced her new friend who had just performed with her, it was actor Giovanni Ribisi’s daughter who is like 8 years old or something. Sia told the audience they made a song together and broke out into a fully structured song called “Little Black Sandals” that they sang together.
As the show progressed the set was dressed with neon lights shaped like children’s drawings of big palms trees and flowers that lit up different colors to the beat. Behind a backdrop of a painted rainbow and a smiley blonde girl stick figure.
Of course the audience went wild when she announced her hit “Breathe Me” and as I lurked across the room I could see a thousand mouths singing along. It really struck me then how powerful one song on a television show can connect a room full of music lovers.
She was such a charmer and kept asking the audience if they needed anything, particularly a beer or a hug. At one point into her set she pointed out some Aussies in the room and told the audience not to buy them beer because they were underage. Then she almost dedicated a song to them called “The girl you lost to cocaine” but realized in the same second into the attempt that it wasn’t appropriate so she corrected herself and dedicated the song after to them.
Sia is on tour her North America and UK tour now and you definitely wont want to miss it, so you better check yo’self before you wreck yo’self. Put an Australian accent with that…
Last night I went to see the 2007 British B&W Indie biopic film “Control” which is about Post Punk band Joy Division’s Ian Curtis. Sam Riley who played Ian portrayed a brooding withdrawn and internally confused Ian very well. His only previous film was 24-hour Party People. This film is a must for any Joy Division Fan. The film is based on a 1995 memoir “Touching from a Distance” by Ian’s widowed wife Deborah who is also co-producer of the film.
The films’ director Anton Corbijn who is a photographer and music video director is well known for his videos of, Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” and Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box”.
The choice of using grainy black and white film really brought my minds’ critical believability to rest and allows you to transcend back to that era. Even though I was merely a toddler when 23 year old Ian Curtis died I felt the depiction of the band was honest and it overcame the usual obstacles biographical films have. Plus it was filled with loud JD music! The Killers cover the 1979 song “Shadowplay” on the soundtrack. Bowie, Buzzcocks and Sex Pistols amongst a bunch of other 70’s goodies are also on it.
Last showing ends tomorrow at Landmark’s NuArt theatre in West L.A. and it’s not playing anywhere else in LA. Best to catch this one in the theatre unless you have an amazing sound system.
Question of the day: What was the release date of Portishead's last studio-recorded album?
The correct answer is 1997, which, for those of you who are numerically challenged, WAS A FREAKING DECADE AGO. Well, good news, guys. The 10-year dry spell is soon to end. UK based music journal twistedear.com posts,
"Portishead's regular blogger, and founder, Geoff Barrow has posted an update on the third album progress: apparently it's on day from being finished, which given the time delay in the news being leaked, could well mean it's finished NOW!"
Subsidiary question of the day: Was anyone else completely in the dark about this?
Thanks to Oh My Rockness! and Goldenvoice for hooking me up with Sunset Rubdown tickets to last Friday's show. For those of you who don’t know who/what Sunset Rubdown is: Wolf Parade's Spencer Krug (after 1 solo release under the same name in 2005) and Pony Up!’s Camilla Wynne Ingr, got together with two other dudes in 2006 and recorded, "Shut Up I Am Dreaming" which is a masterpiece of an album. click to view discography
***most listen-worthy track on the album***
But I will not hesitate to be honest here: While I really do think that Sunset Rubdown is one of the best recent groups I’ve heard in a very long time, if you hadn’t heard them before seeing Friday's show you will probably disagree with me forever. Why? BECAUSE THE SHOW WAS BORING! There’s just no way around it. I didn’t feel any positive energy or excitement from the band at all--In fact, I found myself more interested in trying to stab the olives at the bottom of my martini without spilling any of the drink, and in the venue's (really cool) light fixtures than I was in the show. To be truthful: I got the impression that the band was more bored than I was.
Seriously though, their recorded material is really good and I definitely recommend that you give it a listen. Just don't get too excited about seeing them live.
Last Tuesday, nestled curiously in between a 99-cent store parking lot and an Indian fast food restaraunt, a transformation was taking place.
“He’s playing with a broken finger!” cried Frank Black of bassist Dan Schmid at Safari Sam's.
The singer's announcement of the former ex-Cherry Poppin' Daddies bassist induced a heavy uproar of laughter and cheer from a 300-person audience atypically dressed to the nines. (PJ Harvey, in a giant white faux coat, stood next to me for most of the night.)
It's been over 20 year since the former Pixies frontman (born Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV) began his affair with psuedonyms. "Black Francis" was adopted in 1985 when the musician first began performing with then infamous quartet The Pixies. Later, "Frank Black" was adopted to signify the singer's transistion from The Pixies' 1993 breakup and his own musical explorations. Since then both monikers have stuck and lent their titles to an erratic solo career and alternate projects (Frank Black and the Catholics.)
One thing damaging about deciding to carry on using a name of such stature is the expectations eventually faced. The artist has relentlessly struggled to escape the shadows of his previous works with The Pixies. He has been labeled as a screaming, wailing type with cryptic and often convoluted lyrics. When Black embarked on a solo carreer his first album, self-titled "Frank Black," was unduly matched to Pixies' last release Trompe le Monde, recorded the previous year, despite its turn to folk. Black's second album Teenager of the Year was regarded as "pop" when compared old works.
A question is begged here. Had Frank Black, (or Charles Thompson, for that matter) sought out his solo endeavors prior to The Pixies life-span, would he have encountered more immediate success? His present work, in my humble opinion, is stellar. Unfortunately, that is only one person's opinion, and even more unfortunate, I would never had been exposed to Black had it not been for his earlier Pixies involvement. The Pixies helped launch Black. Who were these 300-plus people really here to see?
At approximately 10:30 p.m. the lights dimmed. Following the singer's pre-show broken finger announcement, Black and his backing band, Schmid and drummer Jason Carter, preparred to deliver the beginning of what the singer described as “Our 11 Song Opera.” The bass line dropped, cymbals stirred, and suddenly the voice of a man once wild but now restrained quieted a roaring crowd with new album title-track “Bluefinger.”
In front of a patient audience the origin of the opening song was explained as a love-letter and homage to the late Herman Brood, an eccentric Dutch rocker and painter who abruptly took his own life in 2001 by jumping off the roof of the Amsterdam Hilton after being told he was fatally ill.
“Not all Hiltons are alike,” said Black. “Some of them don’t wear skirts.”
The bald and portly musician spoke with deameanor so calm and articulate that hearing it was almost jarring (think of the first time you heard Billy Corgan's speaking voice - my awe was somewhere in that realm.) This, coming from a man who has screamed "I'm Amazed!" loud and crass enough to make my eardrums bleed.
The hour-long set progressed with additional Bluefinger tracks "Test Pilot Blues," "Lolita," "Threshold Apprehension" and "She Took The Money." Each was met with brief clarification in Black's oh-so mild voice. Both “Tight Black Rubber” and “Threshold Apprehension,” according to the Black, were based on factual events from his own life that also mirrored some in his muse’s, Herman Brood. Third to last song “You Can’t Break a Heart and Have It” Brood cover, second to last "Break My Body" a Pixies cover. The final "Motorway to Roswell" was uniquely Black's.
With the evening finally ending, what somehow became more difficult than stomaching yet another Stella was trying to remind myself that this exposed musical genius visionary was human. This is just another person with big ideas. This is a grown man widely recognized by his past, and yet audience members flew in from out of state just to gather in a dimly lit venue and to hear him discuss pee and cigarette breaks. If actions do speak louder than words, the genereal consensus is screaming: somewhere in between the forum of chaos and expectations, a revolutiony is still alive and kicking.
Referred to simply as “C.T” by those who know him well, Black Francis/Frank Black/whatever he's calling himself remains best known by the rest of us as the voice behind the madness.
The Evangenitals - What Every Mega Church Is Missing
[contributed by K. Nacy]
Have you ever entertained impure thoughts and desires? Have you found that your illicit highs keep getting lower? Have you ever touched yourself or wished someone else would? Do you need to be saved?? If you've answered "yes" to any of the preceding questions, the Evangenitals are your VIP + 1 drink pass to salvation!
This five-piece alt/country/neo/folk outfit from Los Angeles initially formed in 2004 as something of a private joke, when a crappy day at the office for Juli Crockett, Brett Lyda and Lisa Dee might have meant a nationwide recall on nipple clamps. The three founding members of the Evangenitals met while working together at a sex toy company and registered their band domain name before there ever was a band. However, as songs were written and performed, fans accumulated, and their popularity spread throughout the Los Angeles area.
Their 2005 debut, "We are the Evangenitals," features a well-balanced blend of barnyard stomp and ethereal harmonies. Gifted with a powerful voice, Crockett makes her distinctive mark as the anti-crooner. She sings with a deep clarity and is able to maintain odd balance of folky sweetness and country music's signature yee-haw .
On "The Work Song," Crockett sings of the mundane and redundant in a way that somehow manages to be entrancing. At first listen, her vocals call to mind other notable altos like Cher, Grace Slick, and flannel-clad lesbian grunge pop extraordinaire, Linda Perry. Crockett's sound is low, smooth and profound, and even the most diehard of Perry fans is likely to be moved by the pastoral beauty produced on tracks like "Beautiful Boy" and "Lisa's Song".
"Hey Ya" was the persistent pop tune that your grandmother and her ninety-year-old pinnacle partner could discuss over gingersnaps. The song inspired a number of ironic covers from smart-alecky indie bands, and if you went to a $12 show in 2003, you probably heard "Hey Ya" at least once. A testament to their dexterity, the Evangenitals cover the Andre 3000 classic as a slow and haunting folk incantation. It is without question one of the most radiant tracks on "We are the Evangenitals". Eat your heart out, 3000.
Though not entirely unclassifiable, the Evangenitals are versatile and multi-layered, and will likely carry a 'slash' in their genre classification for as long as they exist as a band of Southern Californian country bumpkins. As is customary with folk music, they create traditional sounds for everyday people, which is perhaps their greatest strength. The fact that they can spare you fire and brimstone is simply an added bonus.
The band's sophomore release, "Everlovin", should be available through CD Baby and iTunes shortly…See ya at the next hell raisin'.
Thanks to Christopher Diers for allowing us to repost his MySpace blog entry about At The Drive In on our site. Reasons why I did it: uh...have you even read it yet? ________________________________________________________
The other day I was having a state-of-the-union type discussion about music with a very old friend of mine and through all of the usual babble about this band and that band, your top ten favorite whatever, which group killed that genre, etc we finally got to the one subject that most everyone who enjoys music loves (and to a certain degree, dreads) talking about: Albums and bands who have had a personal impact on your life. While I've always thought that it's a bit of a silly subject (I've never felt that hearing a really good album or going to an amazing show is necessarily "life-changing", unless of course you start a band as a direct result), my answer has always been simple enough. For the last 6 years the only two albums I have listened to on a (somewhat) weekly basis have been Refused's Shape of Punk to Come and At the Drive-In's Relationship of Command. I already did a blog about Refused and for whatever reason I hadn't even thought about doing one for At the Drive-In until I heard myself answer that question out loud.
Cosmonaut - Live at Big Day Out
The Relationship Of Command was actually given to me in my math class in 11th grade by this rich goth girl who sat in front of me. She purchased the album under the pretense that the group was similar to System of a Down and was ultimately disappointed with it. I traded her for a spare copy of Slayer's South of Heaven. Like many records I acquired under what now seem to be strange circumstances, I didn't quite know what to make of it. At the time I had sort of regressed into 80's hardcore, but every aspect of The Relationship of Command captivated me.
Rolodex Propaganda - Live on Later... with Jools Holland
Almost every band I was into for the next two years after absorbing this record somehow audibly referenced At the Drive-In in some shape or form. Even today, 6 years after the fact, a great deal of the newer groups I find myself drawn to were obviously just as impacted by the sheer force and emotion they commanded.
Rolling Stone.com Video Interview
As good as they were on record, nothing can touch the live show. I wish I had been able to see them before they were gone. Thats part of the reason that the band retains such greatness--the fact that they were here and in the public eye for such a short time before they disappeared--probably for good. Much like Refused, the chances of catching these guys on a reunion tour anytime soon seems very unlikely especially when you consider the success of The Mars Volta and the mediocrity of Sparta.
Last night, I wandered out into the street at 10:11pm. I decided heck with myself, I'm going out tonight. I'm going out for 50 minutes. 49 minutes. I'll go out and come back by 11pm. There's free music everywhere. Why didn't I go get some? I went to my computer to scope out prospective bands in advance of wasting gas, but in the end, I said, heck with Internet research, I'm going to use my nose. Sniff out some musics. Into my car.
I found myself at the Echo in a scantily occupied room with two women on stage being sonic. Well, the one woman was playing a cowbell every now and then and occasionally the triangle, but the other woman was singing full voice pretty upbeat pop melodies over programmed beats and sequences coming out of her iPOD. All of us, the audience, standing in black, teetered shy on our heels in a half circle about 50 feet from the stage. But we were digging it.
Well, the girls are Hearts of Palm UK, and they are based out of Los Angeles and they spin feel good tunes. I admired lead singer Erica Electra's sweetheart outfit of black and white with pink heels. The other girl had nice shoes on, too. But more than anything, I was struck with the level of engagment from lead singer, EE. You can see it in the way she moves, you can feel it in her voice which does indie-pop with conviction, and hear it in the sentiments expressed in the lyrics which are positive AND believable. There's something fun and girly about it, but heck with fun and girly, there's a coherence and command that shouldn't be underestimated.
Hearts of Palm UK. I want sing back-up vocals for them. And you will, too.
It's a curious thing to be an opening act. Frequently, such performers are met with indifference by an anxious crowd as the artists on stage try their best to leave a lasting impression. Rare is the occasion when such a band is able to rise above and turn apathy into adulation. Rarer still is the opening act that realizes such an attempt is almost futile and just says, "Fuck it."
There was little fanfare as Crystal Castles took the stage at the Fonda this past Friday, opening for established indie rockers Metric. The curtains rose and the speakers droned a manic beat. What followed amounted to what felt like ten minutes of pure noodling on a small keyboard by one of the members, while a bright light pulsated from the stage floor. When the jams finally kicked in and the vocalist took the mic, noise transitioned into nuanced noise, very loud nuanced noise. No introduction was given, the audience was never once addressed, the lyrics were indecipherable (and it wasn't just the P.A. system) and their stage presence was solely represented by the blinding, flickering pulse of the strobe. Like a beating in the dark, their set was visceral and violent, leaving everyone traumatized but uncertain of what had just been encountered.
I was anxious to learn more about this band and when a Google search turned up a MySpace page, it was a little reassuring to find their web presence was consistent with their stage show. Castles seems to be playing by similar rules of anti-fame as Bay Area iconoclasts The Residents. Their presence isn't as masked, but there is the feeling when listening to the music that they are creating music not for any audience in particular, but rather for themselves. This then begs the question: why even perform for an audience if there is no apparent attempt to make a connection with the public?
In their case, the effect of doing so somehow brought everyone together in a flurry of confusion -- we may not have liked or understood what we saw or heard, but one thing was sure: we had witnessed. It was riveting, almost awe inspiring to see a band so involved in their own performance that the concerns of whether or not the audience enjoyed themselves mattered little if at all.
Dude, daft punk seriously pisses me off. I mean, just look at the photo: Will someone please tell me what the hell this is about? They swear like it’s ok to be this cool. You know that song from Grease 2 that Michelle Pfiefer sings, about how she wants a to date a bad ass--I think it’s called “cool rider”, right—ok well Electroma ascribes a whole new meaning to the letters she sings in the chorus (C-O-O-L R-I-D-E-R). Not to mention that it’s ALSO the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Ever. In fact, Daft Punk should really consider re-writing the book called “How To Be Cool”--I’d totally buy it.
Some highlights of the film are as follows:
THE SOUNDTRACK. It’s amazing. And get this: Daft Punk isn’t even on it. And seriously, these guys actually have really good taste in music.
Curtis Mayfield – ‘Billy Jack’ A Sei Voci Ensemble - ‘Miserere’ Todd Rundgren – ‘International Feel’ Brian Eno – ‘In Dark Trees’ Linda Perhacs – ‘If You Were My Man’ Jackson C. Frank – ‘Dialogue’ Sebastian Tellier – ‘Universe’ Haydn – ‘String Quartet in E Flat Major Op. 64, No. 6’ Chopin – ‘No. 4 in E Minor [24 Preludes, Op.28]’
I don't know that I'm using the term right, but this is the title that came to me. 
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