I don't have a whole lot of time today to post about LCD Soundsystem concert last night, which was pretty spot on. Some quick moments and thoughts.
James Murphy has become the collective conscience of the aging hipster. Hey, don't get me wrong. Being in indie rock is always going to be a young person's game. But, when the crowd is quite possibly more over 30's than under, he really is becoming a musical voice for "my generation". Sorry, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. I must have been thinking about The Big Chill.
Second Example of James Murphy's new spokesperson title: Between songs, he takes a moment to point out that a bunch of people are recording video of the show. Not that he minded, but he went further to say that they might enjoy it more if they put down the phones and just experience the moment. Even though it sounded a bit, "Back in my day, we didn't have pocket sized cameras, video recorders or phones. We had Polaroids and a pocket full of quarters and we were thankful!". Still, an astute observation.
After much deliberation, I may have to write a review of the new album, This Is Happening. The only thing is that everyone else already has.
They only played four songs from the new album. It is definitely agreed that their new album is a bit more low-key, restrained and, dare I say, mature. However, it seemed that they tried to play the songs people wanted to hear instead of songs they may have wanted to play. Check out the set list below. Then, check out a smattering of their music even further below.
It has been a long time coming, but notice what a little well-placed hype can do? Their has been a lot of chatter regarding the new album from The Arcade Fire and when the public would hear something resembling a full song. The band's website has only featured an odd little widget playing a snippet of music.Well, a couple of songs finally got played today on Radio BBC1. As fast as you can say "radio rip", both the a-side "The Suburbs" and its flip "Month Of May" hit the internet via blog Rock It Out. Indie powerhouse promoters Pitchfork posted the link, thus crashing the site of the originator. Then, another blogger tried to lend a hand using Soundcloud, but that file is not working so well. Finally, on-air radio station 107.7 in Seattle stepped in and posted both songs on their website. Obviously, their servers had a little more behind them, because I finally was able to stream them with little consequence. The songs are very raw, underproduced and of negligible quality, so it is hard to make an assessment. Judge for yourself below.
I have always said I will see just about anyone live for free. I use that in reference to all of the major label artists whose concerts are obnoxiously priced and laden with Ticketmaster's abusive charges, where more than 90% of the seating is nowhere near the stage, where the sound quality is comparable to playing in a barn and, to be frank, their music is not any good anyways. Nevertheless, if someone fronted me a ticket to see a glossed up, overproduced pop/R&B/country artist, my "give it a chance" side would kick in and, for the sake of curiosity, I would go and do my darnest to enjoy the experience.
Now this has nothing to do with The Dead Weather concert I saw for free Saturday night. This latest incarnation of Jack White of White Stripes fame has only been present for less than two years. However, with his star power pricing himself outside of most intimate venues, I have no interest in sitting in arena seating with no connection to what is happening on stage, even if I enjoy the music. However, when this opportunity to see a major label band for free in a hollowed out warehouse, with a hosted bar no less, presented itself, I took it.
At the time, I had not given any of Jack White's new supergoup a listen. Featuring members from Queens of the Stone Age, The Kills and Jack White's earlier band The Ranconteurs, this band was built for the bluesy, scuzzed retro rock that can only be played at maximum volume. Outside of enjoying the show, I did learn a couple of things about The Dead Weather, and the dinosaur that is the corporation, on Saturday night.
Jack White can play the drums better than Meg White. For those that know, The White Stripes were an exercise in limitation. The duo went out of its way for most of its career to only feature guitar and drums. Within that constraint, they managed to pump out great rock music at its most primal. One of the oft discussed aspects of The White Stripes was Meg White's limited drumming acumen. The most accurate quote I ever read about this was: "Meg plays all of the ability and enthusiasm of a ten year old." Knowing not much about the band coming in, I was surprised to see Jack White behind the drum kit. After a couple of songs into the set, it made me wonder why he is not playing guitar. Boredom? A new challenge? A veiled cheap shot at his former wife?
Alison Mosshart has the drug addled front woman act down to a science. Showmanship is key in a live performance. Although this is Jack White's band, it was Mosshart's stage. She pranced, strutted and twitched like her next hit could very well be her last and she could give a shit. Many female rockers wished they had game like this. She makes Juliette Lewis look like the poor man's Juliette Lewis. Honestly, her pipes and stage presence gives PJ Harvey a run for her money.
No matter how good the band is, how cool the venue is or how many free drinks I can partake, the sponsored corporate rock experience still rings hollow. As someone more eloquent than me once said, nothing comes without a price. The whole experience was meant to give the illusion of something special. The whole event was stilted by Kin, a new mobile device fronted by Microsoft in a too late to the party attempt to make the IPhone's seat on the mountaintop a bit more wobbly. However, whether this new gadget was effective was taking a backseat to the ineffective marketing onslaught taking place. In some vain attempt to not be noticeably corporate, the show's details were released via Facebook while people ran to lineup outside of the empty warehouse for a trucking company in the West Loop. While being corralled for an extended period of time, professional photographers pursued the crowd looking for the right kind of cool for their marketing gimmicks. After the earliest folks waited for over three hours, the steady stream past the hired security, the inexpensive interns and the corporate d-bags began to get through the garage doors. Inside could have had that touch of exclusivity, but instead was plastered by video screens displaying an endless scroll of scruffy hipster models preening and simpering while displaying the most hackneyed catch phrases. Maybe I am too jaded, but anyone who says "Let's Do This" and "It's All About Me And You" without any irony is a moron. To use the phrase as a product slogan was probably thought up by a moron who thinks that you are big enough moron to fall for it. When leaving the venue, the inevitable bag of swag was given with buttons and posters emblazoned with the same heavy handed imagery. Also included was a coupon for the product to be used at the nearest Verizon store. I found it odd that nowhere at this event could I see or try this product (which was the only reason anyone was there in the first place). Were the powers that be showing some sort of misguided restraint? Lastly in my swag pack was a t-shirt that can be best described as some graphic designer's idea of a practical joke. Obviously the shirt is all about using your chest as a billboard, but in a somewhat apparent way, included in the graphic is a somewhat stylized photo of a penis. Don't take my word for it; see for yourself. Let's do this, indeed.
Since this blog is supposed to be about music and not about my grumpy old man grumbling, I will be tracking down and giving The Dead Weather a shot after hearing some great musicians and performers play an inspired set. I definitely cannot fault the band for the corporate money grab. In many ways, selling their wares for commercialization is the best (and simplest) way for the 21st century recording artist to pay the bills. Nevertheless, the best way for a corporation to make money (and hopefully this will never change) is to make a good product that people want. After enjoying the fruits of a new product's "buzz", my opinion on the product has not changed. I have no idea what the thing does or if I would ever want it.
Ohio-bred, Brooklyn-based band The National has only been active for around a decade. The subject matter of their songs and the overall quality of their music tellingly reveals a confidence through experience and a world weary maturity beyond their collective’s years. Over a career spanning their upcoming fifth full length and a scattering of EP’s and extra releases, The National has honed their flair for emotion and drama. They have found moments to experiment within their conspicuous sound, but stay disciplined without straying from the band’s fundamentals. There is no mistaking a National song, but their distinction comes from the band’s pioneering their own trail off the superhighway of straight up American rock. The influences are present without sounding derived. There is that indie flair, but it is coupled with a mainstream accessibility; it is a dynamic that is purely their own.
The newest offering of The National entitled High Violet is another sprout of a new branch for the band, implanting the understated running theme of losing someone, both lyrically and musically, throughout the LP. Although the subject pining for lost love is common, The National employ a teeth-gritting tension, can’t-get-out-of-bed heartache and internal struggle is not often woven together in the words and re-emphasized in the music. High Violet’s first track, “Terrible Love”, sets the tone. Stating that you are “walking with spiders” seems uncomfortable and creepy; achingly singing it over heavily reverb guitar shows us a man who cannot sleep, eat or sit still over his terrible situation. The next track “Sorrow” is an extension of the first, the next stage of denial in the narrator’s grief. It takes the repressed anger of “Terrible Love” and ups the ante, giving up out of exasperation to his future where everything looks, feels and tastes sad. Coupling Matt Berninger’s achy lyrics with the intense hi-hat taps and acoustic guitar strums makes “Sorrow” one of High Violet’s standouts and one of those weepy tracks the heartbroken will put on repeat.
The National are never short on intensity and are at their best when the music matches up with the lyrical furious twists. Their first release “Bloodbuzz, Ohio” already drew my attention:
"His (Berninger’s) lyrics are a snapshot; "lay my head on the hood of your car" sketches his memory of a loss that is as intimate as his lover's heartbeat. As many poets, he invents his own language when he is searching for the right word. Tonight, he is on a bloodbuzz with bees humming in his ears, propelled by more than liquid courage. Berninger's strength has always been in repetition, punching each point he makes, pushed by barroom piano, thumping bass and that awesome drumbeat."
“Afraid Of Everyone has an achy, dark yearn as the burning slowly spreads to strings, woodwinds and an insistent drumbeat. The chorus is a surprising sing-a-long despite the dark tone and fearful lyrics. By the end, the drums are the approaching footsteps of phobia and eventually overtake the songs as it descends into a dissonant fadeout.”
The biggest payoff on High Violet comes at the end with “England”, a grandiose finale sent to his love half a world away. Shades of classical music pop in as the song builds; tom toms hit like kettle drums, strings push through as the light breaks, then, finally, the coronets burst in to signal a better day. From the rough road we were on at the beginning of High Violet where hope was so distant, we have finally reached that point where someone can finally dust themselves off, stand up straight and get back to everyday life. It is their anthem for giving in and moving on, a triumph over depression and loss. It is the song everyone should have to recognize that achievement.
It is a shame that the album didn’t finish there. The final song “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” is as awkward as the song title, standing out from the other tracks in theme and quality. Nevertheless, High Violet not only lifts The National to new heights, but stretches their repertoire to include a front to back conceptual element to producing great songs and albums. Great visual artists such throughout history have worked in the conceptual framework, exploring each dark corner of their theme and then pushing the boundaries to include their own considerations. The National have made one of the great breakup albums, but made it a story about them that others can comprehend.
As I acknowledged in an earlier post, Millennium Park has some awesome and diverse independent music coming in on Monday evenings throughout the late spring and summer. Needless to say, the hipster factor was already ratcheted up with the impending lineup. Now it seems someone with some pull (and great taste in music) downtown wanted to surpass their previous benchmark in cool for Monday (and some Saturday) lunchtimes as well.
Calling it Edible Audible Picnic, the first workday of the week at Millennium Park will feature an incredibly diverse assortment of DJ's and bands to entertain as you scarf down your salads and sandwiches. Ranging from hipster darlings The Juan Maclean and High Places, hip-hop artists The Cool Kids, Tropicalia wunderkind El Guincho and Chicago house legend Green Velvet. Just to draw a wide range of consistent talent is well deserving of praise. To daringly roll all of these big names that are usually seen in dark clubs to a downtown Chicago lunchtime crowd is, at very least, gutsy. Millennium Park was always supposed to be an artistic triumph. Having the vision to bring in musicians that push artistic and cultural boundaries only emphasizes the greatness. Kudos, CPD.
All start times are on Monday at noon unless listed otherwise:
Seeing bands on a worldwide tour is always fun, but often they have no attachment to the city, or even country where they are playing. Most of the time when I have seen European bands in America, the exchange of entertainment is, at best, polite and earnest. They want that connection, but quite honestly have no feel for the culture for the audience members, venue and city where they are present. You can’t hold it against them. I enjoyed it when I saw Blur in Chicago a few years back, but knew it was surely an apple to the orange that is seeing them in the United Kingdom.
I have always had a soft spot for Brit Pop. Living in London in 1995-1996 during the high water marks for Oasis, Blur, Pulp, The Verve, Supergrass, Everything But The Girl and countless other British bands has kept it my guilty pleasure. One of the regrets was never having the motivation, timing and/or money to see these bands in their element. That is why I was so pleased that I could wrangle two of my friends in London to pick me up an extra ticket to see a British band in London.
The Futureheads hail from Sunderland, a coastal town in the far north of England and about 15 miles from Newcastle. London is about 5 hours south by car, but the northern contingency was out in full force. One of my friends referred to these fans are “Geordies” understandably without any affection. For the first two bands, the crowd was calm and enthusiastic. However, as the main act came on, the electricity was turned up. When their post punk riffs and full band of vocal harmonies started, the inevitable shift came and the mosh pit commenced its swirl. Concentrating equally on their new album The Chaos and earlier favorites, they rattled off pleaser after pleaser to the joy of everyone, especially the Newcastle Geordies (not to be confused with the Mackems of Sunderland).
Live highlights from the new album included the single, and frontrunner for the second single, “Heartbeat Song” and “Struck Dumb”. These two tracks are what are best in Brit Pop and what is often missing in American rock music; unabashed hooks and sing-a-long lyrics over wailing guitars and stomping drums. It is a simple formula that gets overthought and underappreciated here in the States. Other standouts were the joyously chanted choruses of “The Beginning Of The Twist”, “Walking Backwards”, “Meantime” and “Decent Days And Nights”. My personal favorite song is their amazing cover of Kate Bush’s “Hounds Of Love” that was started with the audience participation of those amazing oh’s that could fill a football stadium with enough energy to carry the home team.
I would be remiss to not mention the openers from Manchester Dutch Uncles, a great band with some obvious home grown influences via Suede and The Smiths. They are a engaging live band and are already well defined in their sound. It was an added bonus that I would not have witnessed in an American band, especially in the Midwest.
