Liars Interview from Anthem Magazine on Vimeo.
Oh, how I love Liars. The trio is one of those bands that we all know is going to be pumping out albums for years and years to come; one of those bands that will inspire generations of future musicians; one of those bands that will always seem utterly accessible and completely alien (have you ever seen Angus and company live!?)
Four albums and a handful of EP's in, countless recording locations later, and uncanny genre hopping, Liars comes out with a curt single that has no affiliation to anything as far as we know, "Disgusting." Unlike the bulk of their last LP's work, "Disgusting" is more reminiscent of early punk cuts by, say, the Slits during their collaboration with Half Japanese that never happened. The throbbing beat and helter-skelter hook makes the tune messy; the slightly off drumming only further convolutes the thing; the piece is genius.
Now that the band is officially holed up in L.A., I'm hoping to see more of them ... don't tell me this isn't a Los Angelino tune.
"Why can't they turn on the lights? You are a man and I am a drug. It's so disgusting."
Early last month, Los Angeles exports No Age, Mika Miko, and Abe Vigoda performed at the Smell's second annual matinee performance. I'm still a little in the dark as to why they decided to hold such a stellar show during some of the hottest hours during the day and how they managed wrangle up every hipster in the great L.A. region, but -- needless to say -- the mini-festival (or whatever you want to call it) was fun.
I did this film for Anthem Online. Check out the original article and small clip here. We got footage of all three bands' sets (amazing), a solid Q&A with No Age, and a fun chat with some of the Mika Miko girls and a couple of the Abe Vigoda guys.
In the earlier part of this millennium's teen years, Baltimore's Wilderness became one of the most important post-punk revival groups, seamlessly melding the old aesthetics of the 1980s angular rockers and the more experimentally-driven and rockier sound of modern times. Wilderness' stuff was, granted, artier than typical post-punk bands (the Cure, Joy Division, Echo & the Bunnymen), and a little more melodious, edging dangerously close to the "rock" genre. That aside, though, Wilderness was one of the first Baltimore bands to gain national attention, and certainly one of the more oblique quartets out there. Still, they're shrouded in mystery and darkness ...
Colin McCann, Wildnerness' guitarist, has obviously been a little bored since Vessel States, an oddly emo-twinged work ... so bored that he went off an made his own solo album under the moniker, the Lord Dog Bird. Whereas Wilderness' output is hyper-complex and obviously the work of an especially able bodied studio ensemble, the Lord Dog Bird is a bedroom recording of an unusual variety. The nine tunes were recording primarily with a four-track, and definitely sound it. There's a simplicity and delicateness to the tracks that is topped off by distortion and atmospheric echoes, ghost sounds, creakings ...
Listen to a couple songs below and see for yourself. This is magical stuff -- and really emotionally accessible -- that represents a slight departure from Wilderness' usual ambiance and a definite switching up of the usual formula solo lo-fi artists incorporate into their pieces.
Talk about uninspired returns ... Dirty Pretty Things (MySpace) -- long known as the other band to splinter from the Libertines -- is back, but this time they've completely lost their bite. The appeal of Carl Barât & co. was that they represented the clean, the stoic, the knowing that the Libertines and Pete Doherty lacked. Dirty Pretty Things, with their delicate arrangements, intricate guitar melodies, consciously distorted rhythm guitar lines, occasional horn and string arrangements, and sweet, sweet hooks positioned themselves as the band to succeed and be in it for the long haul.
Now, not so much. The London quartet's returned with one heck of a pub-rocking single, "Tired of England." Equal parts psych-rock haze and deliberate, extra-straight bar band rock. There's an iota of a hook and a lovely little bridge in the middle of the track, but aside from that, the song is a half-baked thought about British nationalism (that's an oversimplification, but you'll get it once you hear it).
"How can they be tired of England?" How can we be tired of you, Barât?
America's strangest musical entity, Bradford Cox, AKA Atlas Sound/frontman of Deerhunter, has worked his remix magic on the Chap (MySpace), London's closet thing to the Sparks, 2008. Atlas Sound, known for its bizarre breed of flowing, atmospheric shoegaze, constructed in a soft-spoken and shy lo-fi/bedroom recording sort of way may not be the most likely remixer for the Chap's "They Have A Name," but the result is more compelling than one would originally thing.
Whereas Mega Breakfast's opening track is a gooft kraut-rock-inspired sing-along sort of ditty, the Atlas Sound interpretation is a glitchy, laptop-pop, "folktronic" sort of mix that's a bit more soothing and melodious. It's completely different (there are no vocals on the Atlas Sound remix, for example), but well worth a listen.
Grab both the Chap's original tune and Cox's altered one below.
It's been said many times before, but today's pop music scene is one dominated by producers rather than musicians. (Yes, that's an overstatement, but the core point remains: the music that surrounds us is made with the notion that a good producer -- and not necessarily a good artist -- is what makes a hit single.)
BBBD's expressed a love and adoration for Erol Alkan several times before, but we want to solidify this opinion into something a little more meaningful and substantive. What makes this guy so good? We all know that he (1) took a promising young band, Late of the Pier, and rejiggered them into the spastic club-meets-post-punk-pop they are today, (2) picked up the Long Blondes before they embarked on the hyperbolic sophomore slump and spit them back out as an angsty, hook-riddled, ultra-clean and concise outfit, (3) gave Mystery Jets a shiny waxing and through them reinterpreted the nuggets of the 1980s in a totally not cool-because-it's-ironic sort of way, (4) spun decaying Klaxons in an unexpected manner, and (5) is supposedly producing those aged hipsters representing the Sound of Scotland, 2008, Franz Ferdinand ... but we don't really look at his technical prowess and admire what he's doing behind the mixing boards; for all we know, he could be just a lucky guy springboarding of his long and successful club circuit in the right place at the right time.
Alkan is applying what is noticeable old and tried to an era of music that is in constant denial of its place in history and the tradition of pop. It ought to strike us all as slightly strange that so many music journalists, critics, and tastemakers -- BBBD included -- note that the best bands of today always sound like someone else who was most likely cooler than them, more authentic than them, and more original than them. A sweeping and broad statement, yes, but comments like, "Franz Ferdinand sounds like a band right out of 1980" or "Long Blondes could've opened for Gang of Four in 1979" isn't necessarily flattering; it's a bit condescending and discredits the fact that such acts are living in their own time, making their own music, and doing their own thing. All music is derivative, but that doesn't mean that we have to make such comments front and center.
So, Alkan takes the old and doesn't attempt to imagine himself a musician or producer living through the times of Martin Hannett ... Furthermore -- and this is the yeah, duh remark -- he applies the techniques he picked up as a renowned DJ to every track he works on, a characteristic that is readily pointed out, but rarely highlighted as one of the most important facets of his work. Alkan reappropriates an aesthetic that no one else before him could've ever injected into music -- there was no London scene quite like the one he matured in ever before and there was definitely no club Trash until 1997. Alkan took advantage of the situation he prospered in and catapulted to success by merging his unique gifts from his nightclub tenure and the dedicated study of the Old Master he had under his belt.
So listen to these Long Blondes b-sides as they're absolute proof of his genius. "Five Ways to End It (Erol Alkan 12" Mix)" is the most obvious testament to Alkan's dance music abilities, and a solid one at that. "I'm Coping" is one of Long Blondes' greatest lyrical achievements, and really deserved to be on Couples. Is this song about cutting off a relationship or quitting heroin? Hmm. Considering the explosion of Strokes-infused guitar jangling at the end, it's primarily about the latter, but thinly veiled (how does the intial jolt of heroin running through your veins feel any different?) Spectacular. "Whippet Fancier" is a song that could only be composed and performed in the U.K. (who the hell talks about whippets here?) Again, the fills are more club than rock, the lyrics more disco than post-punk, the synth line more theme-song-esque and gimmicky than serious garage; Alkan's production leads one to believe Long Blondes are copycats, imitators of the greats of three decades ago, but dig beneath the surface and you'll find much more going on. The magic this guy works on his bands is awe-inspiring ... absolutely mystifying. He should make his own group with "wizard" in the name, yeah? What card will this wizard reveal to have up his sleeve next?
BBBD is in a state or turmoil. The world has become more complex for your favorite blogger: he neither wants to quit not exert more time into writing daily posts; he wants to pursue other things but utilize the freedom that BBBD gives. A conundrum has arisen, and solving it seems unlikely.
We can no longer churn out daily posts that hail the Hot New Thing -- such artists are few and far between, anyway, and not the stuff of frequently-updated blogs such as this one -- and we no longer want to compete with the other names out there. BBBD is content knowing it's been around, that it maintains a voice, and that it is still of at least some relevance.
That being said, expect to see plenty of articles on this website, but perhaps with diminished regularity. Today, we commence an experimental column of sorts: "Don't Start A Band." That's right, BBBD is prescribing abstinence. We're tired of the tirade of press releases, are afraid that every conceivable band name has been registered on MySpace, and are annoyed with our own desire to keep churning out write-ups for God knows why. With "Don't Start A Band N° 1," we indirectly outline the reasons why one shouldn't create a band (one-man or otherwise) through a brief look at more worthy artists. This is all we need. Sorry.
The Kills
The early 2000s were huge, and this doesn't need to be reiterated. Others had revived genres and styles before, but no previous generation of young musicians had done it so self-consciously. BBBD personally holds that this occurred because wannabe hip acts realized their fathers were actually listening to some pretty friggin' sexy music, played by pretty sexy kids, in pretty sexy and gritty clubs. Conversely, it's hard to imagine a twenty-something admiring Elvis in all his blandness in 1975 and thinking, "Wow -- I could totally reappropriate the King's sound, aesthetic, and fashion for my own, more current needs and desires." For a myriad reasons, 1975 - 1985 was an exceedingly appealing era to the younger musicians of the late-1990s and early-2000s who grew up on hip records by the likes of the Cure, Echo & the Bunnymen, Joy Division, Sonic Youth, Brian Eno, Talking Heads, Siouxsie & the Banshees, and so on. This was before the massive reissue trend put the CD market into a deathlock. Teenagers were listening to music that wasn't necessarily grounded in an era -- "In Between Days" still makes any somewhat emotional person fall prey to tears -- and certainly detached from prudishness, uptight behaviors, and constriction. The Beatles may have churned out some stunning pop tunes, but do you know what really has left them eternally ingrained in our psyches? Their fedoras, two-button, skinny cut blazers, narrow, leather-soled shoes, and knit ties. That and their rabble-rouser behavior ... who else could compete with their immediately gratifying nature? No one.
But we're digressing here. At the beginning of this millennium, kids growing up on the post-punk of the 1970s/1980s reservedly acknowledged that their parental units were actually attached to a pretty damn cool musical epoch, one that deserved to -- no needed to -- be revived. Hence the post-punk revival (or post-post-punk if you're especially dim). (Now we're bringing back "original" rock 'n roll, the stuff that finally snapped people out it and got them rejecting the crud that was on the radio ... after this Black Lips-fronted phase ends, though, what will we have? A revival of the 21st century's post-punk? Let's hope Devendra Banhart isn't in the equation, whatever it may be. Square.)
The Strokes, Interpol, Franz Ferdinand, Futureheads, and, of course, the Kills were at the forefront of this reincarnation of post-punk ... and we are forever indebted. Now those of us too young to have actually bought a vinyl record but old enough to remember the bad days of 1990s pop can happily live through both the modern and the trendily old both. That's the whole appeal of post-modernism, right? Keep recycling, reinterpreting, reading ... and never become unaware. As long as we understand what we're getting ourselves into, we're all set. The Kills, unlike the other aforementioned outfits, perpetuated their existence by pushing forward this whole post-punk revival trend. "Warm Leatherette" may be a tremendous piece of industrial post-punk music history, but it serves as a gimmick to many; that crap Johnny Marr and Bernard Sumner put together as Electronic was only intended to be a goofy side-project that neither moved the early U.K. electronic movement forward nor compelled many folks to actually listen; likewise, we're starting to believe that perhaps the Strokes (and like bands -- there are thousands ... use your imagination) didn't actually want to stick around, but rather hop into the scene at an opportune moment and profit off our collective interest in the post-punk of yesteryear. The Kills have plodded through the eight or so years since the dawn of postpunk revival and have kept their charisma and core principles intact. The Kills are a band to aspire towards, but few can do what they've accomplished. Plus, Jamie dates Kate Moss. Dream on, Brit-poppers. Tie your shoes and go home.
It's 2008: the Strokes have yet to return, Interpol has yet to impress us like they did with "P.D.A.," and Jack White has yet to shed the pounds. Hack DJs clutter out clubs pretending to be the voices of a generation, but have no idea what the hell their generation is, who don't give a rat's, and haven't an iota of a clue as to how to become relevant. Let's just mosh in the meantime, right? Next time you consider checking out Le Castle Vania or Steve Aoki or Guns 'n Bombs, resolve to staying home and watching Jeopardy at 3 AM. It's better than walking into a club, immersing yourself in the noise and confusion, and fooling yourself into thinking it's music. Until a duo like the Kills comes along again -- and the Old Guard of 2001 is replaced by a New Guard -- we've nothing. Don't Start A Band until you've something to say.
Surprise, surprise: S.L.U. has yet another rad release on its hands by the name of Twin Crystals. The Vancouver trio rose from the ashes of Channels 3X4, but doesn't sound a whole lot like the Johnny Jewel-produced group. Twin Crystals draws heavily from the grunge of the 1990s, the gritty industrial aesthetics of the early-1980s (think Throbbing Gristle), and, on occasion, the off-kilter shouting-not-singing of Mark E. Smith.
And, behind the curtain of noise and distortion, there's an art-punk vibe as well ... something edging close on, say, Liars. Twin Crystals screech about crackheads and darkness, anger and resentment, though, distinctly setting them apart from ... just about anyone else.
The band's just released the "Two Girls" 7", so grab that up, but the 10" for "No Clinics" is gone forever. So here's a tune from that release. Bang your head hard ... if that doesn't render your brain numb, the music eventually will.
Typically, my memories of growing up in Cleveland is all the connection I need to the Midwest (or thereabouts -- I still think Cleveland is more akin to a coastal city than say, Boise). I stick to the coasts, as terrible as that sounds. While there are certainly good bands sprouting in the pastures and prairies of Nebraska, Idaho, North Dakato, and all surrounding States, that stuff doesn't appeal to me as much as a Baltimore group does. And, to make another terribly generalized statement, most of the Midwest's musical offerings are the U.S. version of a British pub band or the 1970s bar band transplanted to a modern age. Bland beyond conception.
That being said ... Provo, Utah's Alligators have really caught my ear. I'm a little stunned, but not afraid to admit my adoration for this quintet (I believe it's a quintet ... they have experienced a confusing number of lineup shuffles).
The Alligators are a pretty standard pop-punk indie band, but with a multitude of twists. The keyboards add a Metric-like post-punk edge; the female vocals soften the blow of spiky guitar hooks and heavy, straightforward bass lines; dueling guitars bring a complexity and layeredness that is rare.
But what would one expect from such a dynamic crew? The members met in a [high school?] film class, formed the Alligators, split because of work, a trip to Japan, and more school, but eventually found themselves all back in ... Utah and picked right back up where they left off. Check out a couple tracks below. Get more on the MySpace page.
I just got off a pretty major Kills trip today, so Portland's Magic Johnson is definitely workin' it for me right about now.
While the duo's lineup is slightly different than the above mentioned group's -- "tag team drum/guitar duo Ana and Mando" bring the noise -- they've definitely a comparable aesthetic. With more shouting, D.I.Y. punk, and brash, lo-fi noise stirred into the mix. These two are connected to the Smell in L.A., mind. In fact, their latest 7" EP, Telenovelas (they sing in Spanish!), was released on the Smell's in-house label, olFactory Records (I've said it before, but man that's a great name). Six bucks for six songs!? What would you rather purchase? A lame $.99 iTunes track or a ragin' wax-embedded powerhouse garage jam? The latter, of course!
Plus, Magic Johnson counts Mika Miko and New Bloods as friends ... so they can't be all that bad (if you're feeling like judging a book by it's cover today). Check out a couple songs below. Face melting.
If you're looking for some heavier blues-leaning rock jams to settle you in this wonderful Tuesday morning, look no further: Ming Dynasty (MySpace) is all you need.
The New York City quartet was founded by Eric Miranda (of the Plums, which was apparently endorsed by Ryan Adams) and Ming Chan (hence the "Ming" in the name ... I was hoping it was in reference to the actual era of Chinese imperial rule, but alas). Ming hails from Taiwan, but sings like a American-born (or thoroughly naturalized) vocalist. The tunes sound sort of like a more gung-ho Piexies or smoother Breeders with some over blues elements and grassroots influences thrown into the mix for a charmingly old-fashioned underlying vibe.
Keep an eye out for the debut Yellow Tiger LP. It'll bombard its way into your summer, anyway, so better get prepared!
In an attempt to monopolize Muxtape, BBBD has uploaded yet another killer mix that features primarily stuff you won't hear on this blog. (While we like to support the unsigned and under-appreciated, there's absolutely nothing wrong with, you know, rockin' out to some Vines every once in a while.)
Stereolab, the Vines, Pete & the Pirates, Littl'ans, Late of the Pier, Santogold ... they're all up there. It's 1 PM PST/4 PM EST -- there's plenty of time to chill before the work week hits again. Listen.
Remember Motocade? If you don't, shame on you since we wrote them up a while back. But that's aside the point: the Auckland, New Zealand garage-rock quartet is back with a new look, a new song, and an overall better style and aesthetic. That's not to say that we weren't digging them before -- of course we liked 'em! -- but when we turned the new track, "Soap Opera," on, we were a little shocked! The brisk three-minute tune sounds like Oasis and the Strokes circa First Impressions of Earth having a baby with the Futureheads. You'll understand what we mean by that once you download the thing!
The music video for "Soap Opera" is also a lot of fun. Tune into it ... looks sort of like what would happen if Cornelius directed a so-hot-right-now Brit-pop band's debut music video.
As this blog has noted before, the Swedish pop sound has been overtly seeping into other Scandinavian and European countries in a pretty massive way. No longer is the world's best guitar-pop and light Euro-pop originating in Stockholm or Gothenburg. No ... now Finland, Denmark, Norway, and every other nation in that vicinity is duly pumping out stellar pop fodder.
BBBD's most recent find? Real Ones (MySpace), a Bergen-based quintet. The group sounds sort of like Talking Heads circa 1983 with an extra large dose of banjo-driven hillbilly twiddling about. They claim to be a "genuine band," whatever the heck that means.
Apparently these Wilco-esque rockers have gained some pretty substantial notoriety and fame in their homeland, making this post seem all the more futile. So behind, right!? Anyway, just listen to the below two tracks and enjoy them for what they are. BBBD might be a tad slow in this case, but Real Ones are timeless! Enjoy!
Outside of Mando Diao or the Ceasars, Sweden doesn't see much in the way of garage bands. Most stray towards the softer guitar-rock side of the spectrum, which while perfectly fine by BBBD, does lend itself to monotony and blandness eventually. We need some punky, garagey, rocky punch every once in a while to get going!
Gothenburg's Alibi Tom (MySpace) comes as a relief, then. The quintet sounds sort of like the Kinks during their most rambunctious days or Mando Diao during a less loopy and scatterbrained episode. Great vocals, solid drumming, fun lead guitar riffs a la old Libertines, and plenty of tambourine to spice everything up more!
The five-piece has an album, Scrapbook, coming out on the U.K. label, LEON, on May 4. Be sure to pick it up when it's out ... we can hardly imagine it sucking based on the strength of these two tracks.
It's always the most mysterious and oblique bands that insight the most wonderment and curiosity, and Salem is certainly a band shrouded behind veil upon veil of obscure meaning, darkness, and opacity.
The samples of their material I've heard (you can listen to loads of tunes here and here) don't disappoint, either (you can't be all smoke and mirrors with!) The Chicago/New York City trio is "inspired by black metal, Southern rap, early goth, screw, and juke" -- sounds a little like Crystal Castles, yeah? -- and while they don't necessarily channel any of those styles in particular, it's easy to see how they're inspired by such genres.
The songs are gritty and at times robotic with chaotic beats and warbley synth bass lines. Somehow, the ethereal and absently cold aesthetic conveys tremendous emotion, though ... the tracks sound like bedroom folk recordings from an alternate reality of utter depression and misery. Listen to the songs and you're feel bare; your heart will be exposed and shredded; tears will stream down your face. Be prepared for some brutally expressive songs of utter sadness and alienation. It's all in the empty spaces ...
As a perpetual trend-setter (ahem), BBBD has decided to put together a Muxtape. Please enjoy it! The tunes included are favorites that won't be found on the blog itself as they're too "mainstream" or overly covered elsewhere.
And yes, Phantom Planet is on the list, and yes, the California pop band was my favorite artist of the week at forty-six listens. Geez. I swear this is a phase. I hope.
Experimental Dental School (MySpace) is one of the most exciting and stunning bands I've heard in a while. 2008 is going to be great, man.
The Oakland, California trio is far from placeable; they defy classification, although a few things can be safely said about the organ-guitar-vocals group's aesthetic and sonic style. Imagine a more scatterbrained Deerhoof or sharper, higher contrast second-coming of Captain Beefheart. Whatever it is, Experimental Dental School is definitely an art-rock outfit that has somehow slyly released three full-length albums internationally without my knowledge! I feel so left out, so not on top of what's pushing pop music forward.
Experimental Dental School is a group intimately focused on constructing music from the bottom up. There's no predetermined tone or genre that they apply to their songs (I can't imagine these three saying anything like, "I just came up with this great hook -- let's make a song out of it!"), but rather a desire to explore, simultaneously, noise-rock, experimental guitar noodlings, jazzy and spazzy explosions, heavy garage rock (turned upside down, flipped inside out), and percussive foot stompers that all make you want to bounce around a concert venue, bedroom, subway stop, whatever. There's a life and energy behind their work that's rare and jaw-dropping ... but not too severe or unpalatable to turn you off, close your ears.
Buy the older LPs and grab the new full-length, Jane Doe Loves Me, from Cochon Records. Highly, highly recommended. I want this to be my breakfast, lunch, and dinner for months to come.
