Fujiya & Miyagi / School of Seven Bells
9:30 Club; Washington, DC
I sometimes think of shows as an opportunity for musicians to make an argument in favor of their music. Can it hold up without the studio and the post-production? Does the band mesh well as a group? Can they communicate musically? This show was particularly well-suited to such questions and turned out to be a study in contrast. I came in liking both Fujiya & Miyagi and School of Seven Bells equally, but came away impressed by one and disappointed by the other.
Maybe School of Seven Bells just need more live experience (the sound wasn’t great, either), but the music I heard coming from the speakers barely resembled the lush, dense songs found on the band’s debut, last year’s Alpinisms. The delicately layered keyboard, synth, and guitar lines on which the band’s music depends clashed awfully live, lacking the cohesion of their recorded counterparts. If the band finds a way to keep their impressively nuanced sound intact for shows, I would expect the result to be otherworldly and beautiful. As is, however, their music wasn't effectively interpreted on stage.
I was curious to see whether Fujiya & Miyagi could translate their krautrock-inspired electro into something compelling enough to hold the attention of the audience. They succeeded, and this accomplishment can be summed up in two words: drum set. A steady, prominent beat grounded otherwise light songs without overpowering their other elements. Vocals were clear, keyboards provided nicely contrasting texture, and the bass replaced the recorded synth beats perfectly. Crisp and refreshing, bubbly and delicious -- there’s not much more to ask for when it comes to pleasantly mild French electro.
Fujiya & Miyagi setlist:
Sore Thumb
Ankle Injuries
Uh
Paper Airplanes
Pussyfooting
Cassetesingle
Photocopier
Pterodactyls
Sick & Tired
Transparent Things
Knickerbocker
In One Ear
Collarbone
Pickpocket
Electro Karaoke
[Photo: Shantel Mitchell]
quiet Loudly / GunFight! / Weird Owl
Vanishing Point; Brooklyn, NY
Brooklyn's Vanishing Point: A largely unrefurbished warehouse with lasers, trigger-happy smoke machines, two bathrooms, electricity, eight chairs, and a stage. The crowd, wading its way through its twenties, was best summarized by a fellow concert-goer: “Where did all these people get $8?” Still, I could be falling in love (with the space, not the guy who made that comment).
I may have given Weird Owl too much advance credit for having the best band name I’ve heard in a long time. Luckily, their performance still managed to exceed my high-yet-largely-baseless expectations. Their loud, spaced-out, stoner-rock sound is beautifully entrancing, and the band members look the part. The front man, sporting a solid beard and three-foot, pencil-straight hair, spoke up after a few songs.
“We have several more songs of a psychedelic nature,” he grinned, “emphasis on ‘nature.’” Staring at the space between the floor and their eyes, the band appeared lost in the music for the next three songs. Finally, the front man emerged and spoke again. “How much time left?” he asked, apparently unaware that they had already surpassed their timeslot. “That’s a trick question. Time is abstract.” At this exact moment, the booker lost a patch of hair to stress, but at least 12 audience members realized during the ensuing song that they had always known that they were special, so it is safe to assume that all is forgiven.
GunFight! exploded onto the stage with their welcome brand of heavy country metal. Although they are perhaps the shortest band around, (the drummer, rather tall, politely chooses to sit down during performances), these four make such a big sound that you can see the soundwaves traveling through the air. With guitars that sound like electric saws, drums like a firing squad, and a the warm screech of Drew Mintz’s howling vocals, these particular waves were enough to make a noise-rock audience dance without irony. These guys have about 10 solid years of entertainment in them before they start carrying bindles full of baked beans and riding the rails.
quiet Loudly are a spectral noise-rock group whose name actually describes their music rather accurately. Their three-man lineup recently settled to permanently include bassist Tony Aquilino (also of Gunfight), and their camaraderie shows. Soaring through the entirety of their upcoming album (minus the horns and organ included in the studio mix), quiet Loudly's performance was tighter than ever. Consistently impressive is the band’s ability to cut loose onstage, to “rock out,” as it were, without devolving into chaos, to play with noise without sounding too “noisy” (you know, the way an old person in a movie would mean it). In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I recently shot press photos for this band, and perhaps also that they all received haircuts during the photo shoot. And this new album is like a haircut for the band: it seems strangely different at first, is ultimately more revealing than it is diverting, and leaves your ears itching for days.
[Photo: Nat Towsen]
The Morning Benders / The Submarines
Black Cat Backstage; Washington, DC
“You know you’re in The Submarines,” quipped vocalist Blake Hazard halfway through her band’s set, “when your husband corrects your posture in the middle of a guitar solo.” This relaxed and congenial tone framed the Submarine’s co-headlining show with The Morning Benders at The Black Cat’s intimate back-room second stage, and the lineup proved to be of the most elusive sort: legitimately cohesive. Both bands play accessible pop, but both also managed to turn their respective sets into something more.
Opener Dawn Landes, with her instantly likable alt-country songs and bright red cowgirl dress, unexpectedly charmed the socks off everyone I could see. She quickly got the room warmed up and dancing, thanking us for selling out the show even though it was a Sunday. She didn’t need to say anything;her music was so well-crafted and unimposing that I forgot the late hour mere minutes into her set.
As The Submarines moved around amps and pedals, the aforementioned Hazard set up something else: fake daisies fastened to mic stands, keyboards, and the drum set. It seemed an appropriate decoration for a band composed of a husband-wife duo. Hazard shared vocals with husband John Dragonetti and provided most of the energy, bounding around the stage with exuberance (and pigtails to match). The band shined brightest on more complex songs off their latest album, while their airy earlier material was occasionally too light to bear the weight of live performance.
When The Morning Benders took the stage, the room was primed for the jangly pop of their debut album, 2008’s Talking Through Tin Cans. What we got was something entirely different yet entirely satisfying. The youthful (none looked old enough to drink) four-piece from Berkeley, CA slowed down many of their songs, replacing tambourines with feedback and shedding the trappings of that mop-topped Liverpool group to which they are so frequently compared. The nervous immediacy of the album still managed to surface, particularly in frontman Christopher Chu, who spent half his time on tiptoes at the mic and the other half hunched over his guitar coaxing out noisy riffs. The lasting impression was of a band still finding its feet but thankfully with the confidence not to stop and analyze its progress. In this climate of perfectly-hip indie rock, sometimes the most refreshing thing is a band that ignored the memo about fun music not being cool anymore. Thankfully the Morning Benders did just that, and with plenty of substance to boot.
[Photo: Elzee]
Los Campesinos!/ Titus Andronicus
Logan Square Auditorium; Chicago, IL
Chicago is a special city to Cardiff’s Los Campesinos!. As noted by lead singer Gareth, Chicago is not only the first U.S. city they ever played, but may also be the first American city they sold out a gig in as well. He even noted that this show, at Logan Square Auditorium, contained the largest crowd they've ever performed for. Perhaps that is not only why they put on a thrashingly solid performance, but also why they were sticking around the city afterward: a way of saying thank you.
Titus Andronicus, Glen Rock’s finest, started out the night with a poem and a crazed holler. Frontman Patrick Stickles looked as though he was channeling the recently-passed Lux Interior through his screaming and gyrating. At one point, he brandished a $25 guitar -- which he claimed he bought with a guy in Madison who was also from Jersey -- before running straight into “Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, NJ” without any loss of intensity. The band enjoyed themselves as well, at one point randomly breaking into a “Wipe Out” cover. The only downer: Their repeated emphasis on the merch table suggests that they too are suffering through this horrible economy. They closed their set with the eponymous “Titus Andronicus,” which Stickles capped by stage-diving while singing.
Los Campesinos!, in this outing, sounded tighter yet noisier, no doubt a combined product of their recent tour with LA noise makers (No Age and Times New Viking) and the excited crowd that was already stoked by Stickles and crew (the former of which would stage dive again during “Miserabilia”). They mainly stuck with songs from their most recent album, We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed, which gained more strength live. Lead singer Gareth initially seemed reserved, but eventually upped the ante set by Stickles by entering the crowd and running around singing “This is How You Spell…” Gareth’s female foil Aleksandra especially stood out tonight, her voice much clearer and more confident than I've witnessed in the past.
The crowd reacted well, peaking as Gareth and guitarist Neil climbed on the monitors for closer “Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks” -- they were ready for the inevitable falls, whenever they’d come. The band returned the favor by asking for suggestions on things to do the next day, and then ending the night with previous opener “Broken Heartbeats Sound Like Breakbeats.” If nothing else, as the guitar loop was shut off at the end, sticking around seemed like a good idea.
Les Savy Fav / Jai Alai Savant
Epiphany Episcopalian Church; Chicago, IL
“If only we could get this many people to show up for youth group tomorrow,” lamented Les Savy Fav front man Tim Harrington upon taking the stage. Epiphany Episcopal Church was an unorthodox but inspired venue for the merry punk pranksters: when cleared of pews, the worship space provided ample room for fans to gather by the hundreds, had a high-arched ceiling that made for great acoustics, and evoked a gothic atmosphere with enormous stained-glass windows and statuary lurking in the corners, cutting a stark contrast to the band’s hyperactive, noise-laden dance grooves.
Harrington remains one of the most captivating front-men in rock ‘n’ roll today. He tore through the venue like a Ritalin-starved toddler, stalking from one end of the stage to another, over amps and monitors, out into the audience, and even onto a window ledge. The rest of the band seemed content to play the straight man, grinding, occasionally cutting Harrington off when they grew tired waiting for his banter to end.
The set leaned heavily on 2007’s Let’s Stay Friends and singles collection Inches, but classics like “Scouts Honor” and “Who Rocks the Party?” also drew an enthusiastic response from the crowd. The band wrapped up their encore with “Je T’Aime,” a relatively melancholic tale of love lost. Although the band rarely takes itself too seriously, the sight of Harrington poised atop the biggest amp he could find for the song's emotional climax was undeniably moving. However, he still somehow made it to the back of the venue to give concert-goers his best holy-man glad-hand on their way out.
Also worth noting were openers Jai Alai Savant. With their potent mixture of reggae, punk, and prog, they got the evening off to a riveting start. Vamped-out live versions of songs like the dub-influenced “Akebono” pumped up the crowd and effortlessly rose above the typical opening act fair.
Thunderheist / Shad
Nathan Phillips Square; Toronto, ON
Toronto. January. City Hall. -4 degrees. 8:00 PM. Bank-sponsored warm-up tents. Moms. Dads. Kids on shoulders. Disabled elderly people on scooters. Drunk junior high girls. Old people dancing. Tourists. Ice skating. Conversations about property tax. Fire pits. Hot chocolate. Long underwear. The Olympic torch. Snow. Toques. Flasks of rye. Top 40 radio DJs. 3-fingered mittens. Corporate sponsorship. Municipal government placation. Hip-hop? It's the 2009 Toronto WinterCity Festival!
Shad opened the night, with a short but strong set, spitting some of the most clever lines that have come from North of the 49th parallel in a long time. He was accompanied by a live backing band, including some slick work on the ones and twos, with himself adding some acoustic guitar to the mix. The crowd was small but appreciative, especially when he broke into CBC Radio 3-approved "I Get Down" and ended with an ode to life during recession.
During the downtime between sets, the crowd thinned and congregated around fire pits and french fry trucks to stay warm. We're real classy here in Toronto.
When Thunderheist's ferocious emcee Isis took the stage "Suenos Dulces," built on a sample of the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams," the crowd began to respond. She was helped by DJ Grahm Zilla, who tweaked the low-end, transforming the ’80s pop classic into dirty crunchy electro-funk. Rapping in Spanish over pulsing electronic grunge, Thunderheist gave the growing audience, now building around the outdoor stage, a taste of the bricolage of baile funk, NYC-style, and a post-colonial "fuck you, let's dance" ethos that has kept asses shaking since her early days in Montreal. Commanding the stage with four B-girls clad in purple Surfstyle jackets, Isis attempted to bring the post-MIA raucous energy of Thunderheist's club shows to a municipal government-sponsored event attended by a huge cross section of the Toronto population. It was a difficult sell, but not insurmountable.
"Dulces" flowed directly into "Bubblegum," and the mass of 14 year olds dancing at the front of the temporary stage went nuts. Having consumed sports bottles of vodka during the Shad set, they were here for the party, as were the 50-something Latin American tourists who were losing their shit, salsa dancing near the back of the crowd. The energy wasn't exactly contagious, but the often-neglected audience of too-young and too-old were keeping the show moving. After every second song, Isis would produce a frustrated but positive laugh while attempting to inspire the crowd to stay warm and start dancing.
Working their way through material from their debut LP, to be released March 31 by Big Dada, the show's intensity began to build with Isis' smooth, non-ironic throwback cadence and nearly flawless flow crashing against Grahm Zilla's consumed-and-regurgitated samples of The Knife's "Heartbeats" and Kool and The Gang's "Jungle Boogie," adding live cowbell and handclaps to the mix. As the electro-duo burst into "Jerk It," their raunchy call to action, for a moment the towering concaves of Toronto's city hall seemed to disappear, the air warmed and the oddly corporate and government environment seemed like a party -- a very strange party -- maybe not one you'd like to attend, but a party nonetheless.
