Witch / Earthless / Quest for Fire
Horseshoe Tavern; Toronto, ON
Lingering near the back of a capacity Horseshoe Tavern with Fucked Up’s Damian “Pink Eyes” Abraham, J Mascis peered out onto a crowd eagerly anticipating Witch’s Toronto debut. Three hours later, the view must have looked much different to him.
Locals Quest for Fire opened the night with their own brand of sludgy stoner rock. It was very well-received. They manipulated standard tropes of the genre with ease and exhibited a strong sense for creating contrasting soundscapes of drone and screeching high-end. Added late to the lineup, there was probably no Toronto band more suited for the slot.
Next up, Witch’s Tee Pee labelmates Earthless erupted in front of two gigantic Marshall and Fender stacks. It was clear from the front and center drum kit that Mario Rubalcaba was the pounding heart and crushing soul of the San Diego threesome, but he didn’t dwarf his bandmates. Isaiah Mitchell and Mike Eginton’s slodging cascades of overdriven guitar and bass created a pulsating backdrop to Rubalcaba’s precise yet chaotic drumming. They fully exploited the Horseshoe’s notoriously loud soundsystem; their little-pause set contained a sonic presence that seemed to rival the now-legendary MBV 26-minute closing holocaust. It didn't of course, but in the cramped Horseshoe, it really seemed to.
Of course, most of the crowd was there to see J Mascis, a man whose reputation seemed -- on this night -- to supersede the presence he brought to the stage. The Dinosaur Jr. frontman and Witch drummer began the night with one arm figuratively tied behind his back. There were wild expectations of how crushing his newish band’s sound would be at the Tavern, but like most high expectations, the reality fell short.
Witch had the pot-addled crowd handed to them on a platter, but they just failed to deliver. As they began their skraunchy but lackluster set, the venue slowly cleared, leaving a two-thirds full bar behind. It's not that Mascis wasn't great on the drums, he was just overshadowed, and the rest of the band seemed thin in comparison to their opening counterparts. I’d give you a setlist, but I could honestly no longer distinguish the reverberating tinnitus in my ears from the music coming from the stage after experiencing the auditory face-stomp that was Earthless.
Antony and The Johnsons
Town Hall; New York, NY
“It’s good to be home,” said Antony Hegarty, his face dimly lit behind a glistening grand piano. Seeing a performance by the angel-voiced darling is something special, but seeing him take the stage in New York City, his adopted home since the early 1990s, is even more extraordinary. With the Johnsons laying down perfect accompaniment, Antony moved effortlessly and beautifully through a set of tunes from all three of the group’s LPs, including a healthy selection from their latest, The Crying Light.
Minimal white stage lighting rose and fell, as the band’s songs fluttered from delicate, somber tones to soaring, passionate crescendos. Following the poignant unwinding of “Kiss My Name,” Antony called the number a “happy little song from the perspective of a dead person” and likened it to Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology. “Shake That Devil” stood out as the most visceral tune of the night, but many moments delivered comparable doses of heat and heart. “Fistful of Love,” from 2005’s I Am A Bird Now, featured a wailing guitar solo from Doug Weiselman, who also stirred up many other tunes with his saxophone and clarinet skills.
Towards the end of the set, Antony recalled walking down the street in Manhattan “dolled up as only a 19-year-old can be dolled up,” while a police car followed him chanting “faggot, faggot” over the loudspeaker. “I walked up to the window of the car, leaned over and said, ‘Did you say something to me officer?’” Antony then launched into an astounding cover of “Crazy in Love,” his unabashed essence carrying Beyoncé’s tune into new realms.
The night began with The Mystery of Claywoman, a monologue by a 500 million year woman-of-the-universe on infinity, insignificance, and the existential inevitability of our ever-expanding universe. Her insights were sharp and humorous, but grim. Antony brought the evening to a close with an encore of “Cripple and the Starfish” and “Hope There’s Someone,” songs of replenishing and optimistic love. These ethereal tunes were a perfect parting gift, giving the night a final gesture towards hope, just as Antony’s voice subtlety sweeps through the upper registers and tugs your heart along with it.
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.
