A.C. Sighting!

Indie-pop's favorite red haired wonder, A.C. Newman, was out on the town last night, wetting his whistle at our humble watering hole, The Hemlock Tavern. I, worshipping him as a pop genius that he is, stayed my distance with equal parts humility and bashfulness. And after a couple questioned why I didn't approach Mr. Newman, they too when confronted with the chance to meet him, shied away. Sometimes you're just that big, man.

Had I approached Mr. Newman, it would nothing short of gushing, possibly a little crying and perhaps a "You see this guy? This is the guy." And I have been known to say, "That A.C. Newman can write a good fucking song."

This marks the second "encounter" on the town with the new San Franciscan. The first being the Mates of State show during the Noisepop Festival. The Vancouver transplant has been finishing up his band, The New Pornographers' newest release Twin Cinema. Though Pitchforkmedia has yet to release the excellent news of the Fiery Furnaces' SF residency at the Great American Music Hall, every friday for the next 25 years, they have reported this pretty darn good news.

********************
Susan Hopkins reports:
If you call him Carl, he may not answer you...not that we've tried. But just because A.C. Newman, who recently made pop hearts swoon with his solo effort The Slow Wonder, has a new and acronymic name, it doesn't mean he's not still doing what he does best. Yes, Mr. Newman is, of course, a member of one of Canada's finest exports (after Nickleback, of course), the New Pornographers, who are reportedly just finishing up work on their third full-length, Twin Cinema. Sources at Mint, the band's Canadian label, tell us Twin Cinema will be finished and ready for your grubby little hands on August 23-- we presume that date will be the same for the Matador release in the U.S., but that's currently unconfirmed. They also hit us up with a tracklist, and you know we love that:

01 Twin Cinema
02 The Bones of an Idol
03 Use It
04 The Bleeding Heart Show
05 Jackie, Dressed in Cobras
06 The Jessica Numbers
07 These Are the Fables
08 Sing Me Spanish Techno
09 Falling Through Your Clothes
10 Broken Breads
11 Three or Four
12 Star Bodies
13 Streets of Fire
14 Stacked Crooked
********************

And... I'm spent. I'm just gonna guess "Jackie, Dressed in Cobras" is a Bejar concoction. Bejarrrrrrr! (fist-shaking)



The New Pornographers: http://www.thenewpornographers.com
A.C. Newman: http://www.acnewman.net

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Let The Fiery Festivities Begin

Still, no one cares to argue with me? It's much better for all of us, if people stop being so goddamn hard-headed and succumb to the wacky wiles of the most creatively ingenius sibling couple since Sly and Frank Stallone.

The "Three Day Furnace" begins today (5pm) in Berkeley's Heller Lounge and burns on through the next two days at the Great American Music Hall, Thursday (4/28) and Friday (4/29). It all ends when I'm licking the keys on Matt Friedberger's organ in ecstasy and smuggling out a pocket-full of Eleanor Friedberger's used kleenex. Don't put it beyond me.


I am hurt and confused on why they
decided to crop me out of this picture.

The Fiery Furnaces: http://www.thefieryfurnaces.com

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Bella Lea? Hella Yee-ah!

Wow.

Let me start by saying Tim Kasher is great. The Good Life is awesome (and Cursive is pretty damn tight). Let me go on by mentioning that The Velvet Teen is also a quite a decent act. However, Saturday night was about much more than two above-average bands playing the digs in Potrero Hill. It was even much more than the swanky Mesh soiree bangin' in Hayes Valley. No, Saturday night was about rekindling fires. It was less about the busy streets of a city alive, and more about the ventricles of this young man's beating heart.

Let me explain this melodramatically emo tune this blog has taken. Saturday night I "re-connected" with a love that never died. The light grew dimmer and flickered but was never fully extinguished. This devotion exists only for R-Va-er (lingo for Richmond, VA... Helen is too down) Maura Davis, former sullen-eyed chanteuse for Denali, a band I hearted so dearly from their conception and signing to Jade Tree records until their demise almost a year ago.

Fortunately, Maura ("Can I call you Maura, or should I just stick to Ms. Davis?") wasted no time and formed her new outfit Bella Lea with former members of Pinebender, Joan of Arc and Euphone. Bella Lea seems like a natural extension of Denali: moody melodies, atmospheric textures, noisy guitars and of course the piercingly beautiful voice of Ms. Davis.

Having last seen Denali at Noisepop 2004 (with the Velvet Teen opening coincidentally), my heart raced and my love for Bella Lea grew more fervent with every note. In my pathetic mind, I imagine Ms. Davis roping me back in. "You need to stop picking daisies with Nedelle's pop-folk. Turn your back to Feist's swanky lounge vibe. And don't even get me started on how you look like a damn fool dancing to Emily Haines' Metric. Let's get sad. Bella Lea will let you get some real moping on," she would whisper. And then I would comply... like I already have. Don't worry it's only a three song demo I have. Just wait until they put out a full length, then you can see what kind of shoegazing this guy can do.



Bella Lea is currently working on an EP and is continuing to tour with The Good Life. Their demos can currently be heard on Myspace Music. If you are not member of Myspace, consider yourself lucky, and utterly uncivilized. Savages.

Bella Lea (on Myspace.com): http://www.myspace.com/bellalea

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Holy Mesh Mag Spring Spectac, Batman! Two Posts in One Day!

You know you want to. If you don't, you just don't know that you do yet.


photo by Eve Ekman

Yes, this is a miniture post in length but monumental in importance. How do you spell sex? Three letters. I-V-A. If you want some jeans soiled with joy, and not neccessarily your own, go and take in the garage, soul-synth of one of the Bay Area's premier ass movers and Mesh cover queens, Jillian Iva-led outfit Von Iva. Learn it.

Mesh Magazine Spring Spectacular featuring Von Iva, Communique, D.O.D., DJs Jet Set James and Jenny Fake will be held at the very swanky Rickshaw Stop (155 Fell Street) in San Francisco on Saturday 4/23/05 from 9pm-2am. 18+ and $8. Shake what your mama gave ya.

http://meshsf.com
http://www.rickshawstop.com

Author's note: I am not a flake. I will be going to Bottom of the Hill before the Mesh Party but I will make it, hopefully in time to "Feel It!"

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I Re-invented Myself! (into a Distraction) or I Used to Suck But Now I Rule!

Thunderbirds Are Now!
Justamustache (French Kiss)

As I type this, I am attempting to download a Radiohead bootleg from 9/11. Yes, THE 9/11. With all the political Yorke-isms as well as mind blowing music this bootleg promises to offer, downloading it is rather painfully dull. Enter the distraction blasting for my kitchen boombox: Thunderbirds Are Now!

Yes, that exclamation point is part of their name and yes, I called them a distraction. It would be a hyperbole to vaguely describe them as much more. But this is the kind of distraction that you welcome, like the wave at a baseball game (author's note: I don't condone The Wave) or a workplace pizza party. In the music world of Bart Simpsons staring out a window during a boring lecture, Thunderbirds Are Now! (hereafter referred to as TAN!) is the John Deere antagonizing Groundskeeper Willie.

What does a distraction sound like? Well, if I were to use anyword, it'd be disruptive. As in, "playing air guitar is disruptive to writing your blog." TAN! swirls textured synths, raging post-punk guitars and breakneck rhythms. Justamustache, TAN!'s sophomore release, is a brand of controlled chaos, an album that reeks of intense arrangment but comes off spontaneous and fresh.

So wait, how could a band so full of energy, be so easily missed on their first go at it? The Detroit combo's debut was a spaz-core failure and TAN! set out to try a new sound citing Les Savy Fav and Mars Volta as major new influences. After a complete makeover in style, TAN! reemerged teeming with umph and awesome disco drum beats (and signed to LSFer Syd Butler's label Frenchkiss). Though it might seem extremely contrived that they would "change their sound" to the uber-popular disco-punk, the band does not seem at all hestitant to admit their first album sucked ass. At the core of this post-punk/disco-punk revival is the plain fact that eventhough it seems like everyone is doing it, duh, it's still fun. And that's what Justamustache is, pure unadulterated fun. The youthful nature is not so much hinted as it's pounded with a sledgehammer. The album opens with a spelling cheer of their band name and ends with "A-W-E-S-O-M-E, Awesome! Totally!" cheer. When "From: Skulls" comes crashing down from their power chords and fist-pumping hollering, singer Ryan Allen actually lets out a playful laugh.

A lot of this vibrance comes from the fine line they walk between post-punk and pop-punk. It's really a wonder how this 10 track album can clock in at 34 minutes. It seems much shorter. Every song, save for the relatively slow jam "Bodies Adjust" is played fast and loud. Allen's voice is somewhat feminine and makes for a bratty whine that really embodies TAN!'s esthetic. The hooks and shout alongs are pure punk fodder, but TAN! manages to inject their swagger, in form of blips and bleeps and strumming patterns to shake things up.

The Les Savy Fav influence is most heard on "198090 (Aquatic Cupid's)" with delay-heavy, reverb drenched guitars mixed with a robotic sythn drum flair. Both "198090 (Aquatic Cupid's)" and "Enough About Me, Let's Talk About Me" also feature Tim Harrington-influenced speak shout style singing. "To: Skulls" and "From: Skulls" are both guitar ragers and Mars Volta-lite, without the progginess, which after hearing Francis the Mute, might be for the best. The latter has a huge chorus: "If we waste all this precious time/ then we’ll commit the perfect crime/and scream “murder!” when we find you dead on the floor". This is exactly what TAN! strives for and achieves. They don't waste an ounce of inspiration on wankiness or experimentation. They explode like a fireworks show and attack like a flawless fighter jet formation. This is evident in the bands two best tracks "Harpoons of Love" and the cowbell heavy "This World is Made of Paper ... held together by a stapler" (perhaps the cheekiest song title I've heard in a good while). The former starts out like a blippy Hives track but culmintates in its closing minute, building up a momentum with a bass, clap track and beep, mixing in call and response vocals and then bursting into an unbridled guitar line that cuts like a ginzu.

Currently, Thunderbirds are Now! are a distraction. If they keep putting out great records they could graduate to being a "constant distraction" which is another way of describing "rock and roll lifestyle". Isn't that what glamourous, rock and roll lifestyle is? A constant distraction of booze, drugs, music and sex? Well, hell, that sounds mighty fine right now, just as the my final two bootleg tracks are in the queue. Sigh.


This is so right and so wrong at the same time.

Thunderbirds Are Now! are touring with Enon and will be playing Bottom of the Hill 6/19/05.

Thunderbirds Are Now!: http://thunderbirdsarenow.com/ http://www.frenchkissrecords.com/bands_thunderbirds.html

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Workday Pop Daydreams: Song of the Day

During my grueling Tuesday workday, already eyeing humpday with a little hope and a little dread, I was interrupted a couple times by my co-worker, Jeremiah (Desoto Reds) to identify a band that was on KALX (90.7 fm). I am called upon this task occasionally, usually with tepid results, but today I identified Joy Zipper with no hesitation. In fact, Jeremiah had informed me that Joy Zipper had been on multiple times during our labor hours. So naturally...



Song(s) of the Day: Joy Zipper "Baby You Should Know" and "Ron" from American Whip (Dangerbird)



"Baby You Should Know" starts off like any other self-respecting power-pop track would. Fuzzed out guitars chug along as wistful Breeders-esque ooh-oohs float with the ease of a kite. Tabitha Tindale, one half of the Hubby-Wife duo, owns a voice not unlike Kim Deal's. All the puzzle pieces are in place but the picture is of a barren landscape. Through the immaculate execution of their arrangement, it appears the Zip flaked on lyrics and a whole hearted melody. The hooks are in place and not a thing is biting. It's a perfect single for someone who has the attention span of a gnat, and any closer listen will expose it's hollowness in its poppiness.



"Ron" on the other hand is a melody that is complex enough to have some real staying power. I may be splitting hairs here but it seems much more aware of itself. "Baby You Should Know" is an airhead pop song, too dumb to notice its weaknesses, yet too pretty to completely ignore. "Ron", plucky in its minor chords, is the girl who is striking with or without her clunky glasses. Again, the lyrics are laughable but Vincent Cafiso has written a melody that Brian Wilson would admire. And with a My Bloody Valentine atmosphere seeping in the densely packed it's noisy distorted beauty (Kevin Shields mixed a handful of tracks), "Ron" is smart enough to mask its faults in all the right places.

I fear I'm poking at the small bruises Joy Zipper are trying to hide. It is not my purpose to be the over-critical parent, reminding you that your hair is a travesty and pointing out that you look like you've gained weight. I like Joy Zipper tons. "33x" is a dream, and Tindale's voice is at its best when it's at its most ethereal robotism. Which might lead you to wonder, "why didn't he just review that song?" I'm tired, okay? These are the first two cover art pictures I found. You know some people have to work during the day.

Joy Zipper's sophomore release, 2004's American Whip has finally been released in the states. They are currently on tour with Phoenix and Dogs Die in Hot Cars and will be playing Great American Music Hall 4/21/05.

Joy Zipper: http://www.joyzipper.tv

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Sheff Tackles Farley and Proclaims "The Choice Is Yours"

Okkervil River
Black Sheep Boy (Jagjaguwar)

Every music lover indubitably has an artist that continually eludes his grasp. It's the band you've been "meaning to check out" but spent too much time at the corner bar before arriving unfashionably late to the show. And somehow this mishap has repeated itself four times for no particular reason. You hold the copy of their latest album in your hand but then find a used rare bootleg of Turbonegro's seemingly last show (in '98, yeah right!) for two dollars less. So naturally, you buy the bootleg. Your friends throw theme parties for lovers of the band, and you're not invited, depite your persistant "Burn me copy!" and pestering "C'mon, tell me what they're all about!" For the past half year, Okkervil River was that band.

No longer though. For the past two weeks, after a waiting to be lessoned in the ways of Will Sheff, I've immersed myself fully in his new full-length album Black Sheep Boy. Sheff's new vessel has garnered comparisons to all the indie giants of current day, Neutral Milk Hotel to name one. However, Black Sheep Boy is no In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. It doesn't possess the raw ingenuity or the insane brilliance of Jeff Mangum's masterpiece. While Neutral Milk Hotel stands as a fine, avant garde piece of sculpture, Okkervil River is more of a sturdy table, built on plain, but strong legs of folk, country and emo.

Besides, a Bright Eyes comparison is much more fitting. Sheff's voice is a lot like Conor Oberst at times, in its quivering and whimpering, but is more forceful and urgent, and more manly when kicking it up a notch. It's more adult, weathered and earthbound, like a David Bazan of Pedro the Lion, which differs from Oberst who is inextricably linked with youth . The comparsions don't end there. Okkervil's songs compound on both Bazan and Oberst's best qualities, exploring grave matter such as family dysfunction, wanderlust, alienation and heartbreak in an extremely literate fashion, while never forgetting that a driving melody can really pound home a message.

The album opens with a cover of '60s folkie Tim Hardin, aptly titled "Black Sheep Boy" but dives immediately into the manic "For Real". Sheff proudly displays his over-dramatic vocals in this peaks and valleys number. It's Sheff at his most visceral, cawing out "I really did miss what really did exist when I held your throat so tight", with crashing cymbals and distored guitars follow his every attack. Black Sheep Boy works through a familiar slow song, fast song, slow song pattern with such grace. While "A King and Queen" strives on its fantastic folk waltz, "The Latest Toughs" is an upbeat fuck 'em all anthem."In a Radio Song" is a hushed folk lullabye (with an uncanny Bazan-like vocal performance) then Sheff switches gears into "Black", an uptempo, wurlitzer driven track, plowing and rollicking with Sheff's punchy vocal. The album's shining star is the lovely "Get Big" as Sheff trades off vocal duty with Amy Annelle and sings "So drink your cup down to the dregs/ and leave that club on shaky legs/with another guy: but remember I'm not him" over an array of lap steel and heartbreak country sensibility.

Black Sheep Boy is not wholly original but it really strives on tight execution and delivery. And for all the time that I've unintentionally waited to hear Okkervil River, I haven't been disappointed. And now that I've familiarized myself with them, for the love of all things good and holy, will someone please tell me something about Frog Eyes.

Okkervil River is opening for Earlimart at Slim's 5/20/05. Black Sheep Boy is available in stores now.

Okkervil River: http://jound.com/okkervil/

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Average is Still Okay in My Book: Song of the Day

Song of the Day: Prefuse 73 featuring Ghostface and El-P "Hide Ya Face" from Surrounded by Silence (Warp Records)



Some people say the biggest impression you make is your first. If Scott Herren aka Prefuse 73 is trying to make his first full-on hip hop product in Surrounded by Silence, that first impression would undoubtedly be "Hide Ya Face".

The pieces are all there: the unimitable Ghostface, Def Jux's head honcho El-P and of course Mr. Herren on the beat. So what is so unimpressive?

First off, it's not that bad a song. The beat contains a Jux-esque hook, mixing a mechanical swagger with a space-lounge, chill-out vibe. But it's just dull. Can the humdrum be more evident in the fact that there is "reminder" version down on track 17? I've listened to the album five times and didn't even make the connection that the two tracks were related. In fact, everything about the song is static. Ghostface brings in a subpar performance, as engaging as he still is (sub par is still a B/B- grade), and El-P's best verses are becoming fewer and more far between, and it seems that we, by chance, landed on one of his misses.

Still, I passively enjoy the song. It somehow seems to fit right into the rest of the massively uneven hip hop lanscape that Herren has conjured up. Surrounded by Silence survives in its overall mediocrity and has its own shares of astonishing gems ("Pagina Dos" featuring The Books and "Morale Crusher" featuring the brilliant Beans) and grave disappointments in collabos I thought would slay ("We Got Our Way" featuring Kazu of Blonde Redhead tops the list, Aesop Rock and Wu-Tang royalty Masta Killa and Gza also turn in lame ducks). While backpackers and critics alike will debate Prefuse 73's hip hop production, the monotonous "Hide Ya Face" can link arms with its neighboring tracks and feel comfortable with just being ho-hum and unoffensive, which, last time I checked, is still better than being god fucking awful.


You think of what you've done then you can come out of the basement.

Prefuse 73: http://www.prefuse73.com

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Let's Annex Them and Stop Being Jealous

Yellow is the new pink. Thursday is the new friday, and subsequently wednesday is the new thursday. And Canada is the new Britain. Well, to be technical, New England is... nevermind. It's pretty safe to say we self-admitted Americans have another country to appropriate our rock and roll envy towards. Well, hell, there's no point in shaming ourselves with said envy, embrace it! Wear your Godspeed You! Black Emperor T-shirt with pride! Pump your Kid Koala out of your whip, bass to the max! Pin up and make out with your Neko Case Tiger Beat poster!



Now while they probably won't explode to the inflatedly hyped juggernaut of Broken Social Arcade Dears from Above 1979 , Black Mountain is one that no doubt adds to this Canadian hysteria. Combining the hard riffs of Black Sabbath, the spacey psychedelia of Pink Floyd and topped with a little Motown sprinkle, Black Mountain is a band not only you but your hippie parents can love.

At the forefront is Stephen McBean (Jerk with a Bomb, Pink Mountaintops), whose voice is uncannily similar to Neil Young. His newest release Black Mountain has been released on JagJaguwar and has Pitchfork on its jock, with me waiting for my turn. "Modern Music" pushes them through the gate with blaring horns and soul sensibility. Predictably, my friend would add, "... and it has counting. You can't go wrong with counting in a song." While "No Satisfaction" is pure Stones, "Don't Run Our Hearts Around" had the same friend dying to hear Jethro Tull, as complimentary as that can be. "Druganaut", featuring one of many perfect McBean and Amber Webber vocal trade offs, has a groove that might make close dancing awkward and the chops that might clear the dance floor and let those guys waiting to bang their head a chance on the hardwood.

It really doesn't get more classic rock than this. Drawing from so many influences can sometimes hinder an ambitious project. But for McBean and Black Mountain, their true talent comes in the form of selectivity. Selectivity and true appreciation of the past. In a scene that is ass to ankles in bands copying contemporary bands covering classic bands, it's nice to hear a band that is taking the middle man out of the equation. Authentic imitation is the new cookie-cutter imitation. Or something like that. Now if you excuse me, it's late and I have a Les Georges Leningrad Collector Dish Plate set that needs dusting and copy of Strange Brew that is begging to be viewed for the 27th time .

Having just played two shows in the Bay Area a month ago, Vancouver's Black Mountain will be playing three shows this coming weekend. The shows are at Amoeba Records SF (4/16/05, afternoon in-store show), Cafe Du Nord (4/16/05, night show) with Frog Eyes and Boyjazz, and Liminal in Oakland (4/17/05). With this many shows, you might just accidentally walk into Black Mountain concert.

Download "Druganaut" and "Heart of Snow" from the fabulous Jagjaguwar website.

Black Mountain: http://www.blackmountainarmy.com

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Wu Hearts Feist; Feist Hearts Bee Gees

Feist
Let It Die (Arts and Crafts)

You know Leslie Feist don't you? Doesn't ring a bell? How about Broken Social Scene? Yes? She's wailing away on the choruses of "Almost Crimes (Radio Kills Remix)". How about Kings of Convenience? You down with them? The transcendent vocals on "Build-Up" on Riot on an Empty Street belong to Ms. Feist. Ever heard of Peaches? She supported Peaches as Bitch Lap-Lap, the rapping sock puppeteer. How about the back corner of your heart that makes everything look like a Cezanne landscape and warms you more than the finest cup of oolong tea? No? Not so in touch with that one? Well, if you give her a chance, she'll make it there too.

I make it sound so obvious, but if you asked me two months ago if I knew who Feist was, I might have given you a blank stare, or maybe a fake nod of assurance without being fully aware that I was indeed familiar with the above mentioned references. "Yeah, yeah, Feist, he's got a killer voice," I would have mumbled. Funny thing is I would have been half right. Feist's sensual yet earthbound voice is centerpiece of an album featuring ups and downs and some extreme right-ons.

Let It Die is a dichotomy, even without considering the hits and misses. It's an album split right down the middle with Feist's voice and Chilly Gonzales' (Peaches collaborator) arrangment as a delicate adhensive. Essentially, the album is half Feist songs, half covers.

First, the original material is fantastic. Feist has a knack for the melodic. "Gatekeeper" is the understated bossa-nova opener and suited beautifully for Feist's honest and hushed articulations. "Leisure Suite" is a finger-snapping, lounge number in which Feist lives up to her name sake, encouraging to "undo her back zip". It's sexy and sleek, and cooler than Belvedere on a block of ice. One of two stellar track in a row, "Mushaboom" is an insanely catchy, percussive folk pop tune. It snaps along with impeccable precision while exuding a carefree, quirky quality. The other, the title track, "Let It Die" is a heart-wrenching ballad, lamenting love lost. "The saddest part of a broken heart isn't the ending so much as the start," cries our heroine, amidst a static pulse and barest of arrangement. It's a soul song for the ages, one that I wouldn't mind putting on a mixtape to an ex-girlfriend.

It's when Feist starts to tinker with other people's music that things get a little more dicey. Many of the songs come off a little too whitebread, funky smooth jazz. I'm not trying to pass the haterade onto Al Jarreau or Ottmar Liebert but to be as tactful as possible, I try to stay the fuck away from that shit. Feist and Gonzales walk a very fine line. The second half is not without it's bright spots however. Ron Sexsmith's "Secret Heart" is played with bounce and boundless charisma and "Now at Last" is a tender jazz standard and suited best for a brisk winter walk through Central Park. But it's in a Bee Gee's classic that Feist breaks out the sass, and those old aerobic outfits from her Peaches days. "Inside Out" is done without a touch of irony and it strives in its over-the-top harmonies and disco viscosity (or discosity, if you will). I'm not talking about kids with haircuts doing Rapture ripoffs, I'm talking about unadulterated, grandiose, garish mirrorball disco.


Honestly, how do you compete with this?

It's funny how you give something a little time and attention, and you can claim you "know it". Though Leslie Feist may be one of many burgeoning female vocalist (there always seems to be a whole crop of them), there is a connection, that she may not acknowledge, between me and her. And with more press, accolades (2 Juno Awards! The Canadian Grammy! Isn't that like the Mexican Golden Globe? I kid, I kid...) and celebrity recognition (Conor Oberst has covered "Mushaboom" live), more and more people will begin to know Feist. Stars frontman Torquil Campbell was right when he commented on his opening act at Bimbo's a few weeks ago: "I hope you caught Feist because in three months, she'll be playing the Fillmore, and you're gonna have to pay 30 bucks to see her suckas!" I'm okay though, perhaps even on the guestlist, I know her.




Let It Die is finally being released in the US on 4/26/05, after being released in Canada and Europe last summer. For sound clips and videos check out one of her many websites.

Feist: http://www.listentofeist.com
http://www.arts-crafts.ca/feist
http://feistmusic.artistes.universalmusic.fr

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Sufjan Reveals Album Details, Looks Forward to Being 1/25 Done

Pitchfork reports that Sufjan Stevens will be releasing the follow-up to Greeting from Michigan: The Great Lakes State in his ambitious 50 States Project, entitled Illinois on July 5th. Yes, that is over 3 months away, but we can spend that time wondering why Mr. Stevens released the lovely Seven Swans inbetween, instead of hammerin' out one of the other 49 states waiting to get the Sufjan treatment (Montana awaits with baited breath).


Sufjan Stevens: He's in it for the chicks.

I got a real kick out of perusing the tracklist. Here's the 74 minutes of pure, uncut Illini worship:

01 Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, IL
02 The Black Hawk War, or, How to Demolish an Entire Civilization and Still Feel Good About Yourself in the Morning, or, We Apologize for the Inconvenience But You're Going to Have to Leave Now, or, "I have fought the Big Knives and will continue to fight them until they are off our lands!"
03 Come on! Feel the Illinoise!
-Part I: The World's Columbian Exposition
-Part II: Carl Sandburg Visits Me in a Dream
04 John Wayne Gacy, Jr.
05 Jacksonville
06 A Short Reprise for Mary Todd, Who Went Insane, But for Very Good Reasons
07 Decatur, or, Round of Applause for Your Step Mother!
08 One Last "Woo-hoo!" for the Pullman
09 Chicago
10 Casimir Pulaski Day
11 To the Workers of the Rockford River Valley Region, I have an Idea Concerning Your Predicament, and it involves shoe string, a lavender garland, and twelve strong women
12 The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts
13 Prairie Fire That Wanders About
14 A Conjunction of Drones Simulating the Way in Which Sufjan Stevens Has an Existential Crisis in the Great Godfrey Maze
15 The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us!
16 They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back From the Dead!! Ahhhhh!
17 Let's Hear That String Part Again, Because I Don't Think They Heard It All the Way Out in Bushnell
18 In This Temple, as in the Hearts of Man, for Whom He Saved the Earth
19 The Seer's Tower
20 The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders
-Part I: The Great Frontier
-Part II: Come to Me Only With Playthings Now
21 Riffs and Variations on a Single Note for Jelly Roll, Earl Hines, Louis Armstrong, Baby Dodds, and the King of Swing, to Name a Few
22 Out of Egypt, into the Great Laugh of Mankind, and I shake the dirt from my sandals as I run

Illinoise? Uh, shouldn't that be Illinoize? C'mon, Stevens.

Sufjan Stevens: http://www.sufjan.com
Pitchfork: http://www.pitchforkmedia.com

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Conor Oberst, Eat Your Heart Out: Song of the Day

Song(s) of the Day: Patrick Wolf "The Libertine" and "Teignmouth" from Wind in the Wires (Tomlab)



In the not too distant past, it wouldn't have taken much to hear my opinion of Conor Oberst. You really didn't need to know me very well. I tended to slip it into conversations as often as possible.

"Hello Christopher, it's really nice to meet you."
"I can't fucking stand that dickwad, Conor Oberst."
"That's one way to start off a job interview, now what can you bring to our company?"

Okay, so it's not that ridiculous. I mean, c'mon, I haven't had a job interview in like forever. But my history of seething hatred for indie rock's poster boy is well chronicled. If someone had told me that if I acted sad all the time, wrote rock songs and put my bangs in my eyes that I could be making out with Winona Ryder, I'd be... wait, a minute. I do act like that. What fucking gives?

Believe it or not, my stance is actually softening for "The Next Bob Dylan". His two new records are quite good. However, my search has gotten more rigorous. The search for a rival prodigy. It's sort of like that episode of the Simpsons, when Homer finds out Bart is part of the Big Brother adoption program, so Homer adopts Pepe (and calls Pepsi in one instance). Because everyone loves Conor, I have to find my own boy wonder to praise.

Enter Patrick Wolf, a strapping 6' 4", 21 year old Brit, full of youthful exuberance and fully developed artistic pretention. He's been writing music since age 11, joined an art collective at 14, and released his first full length record by 18 (Lycanthropy), while at the same age I was learning that drinking a pitcher of Icehouse and trying to walk on ice is not a good idea.

The opening track on his sophomore release Wind in the Wires, "The Libertine" features one of the two sides of the Wolf coin. The dancy "The Libertine" lives up to its title. It's naughty, dirty and insanely European. However, under the glitchy horse clog, disco drum beat and flourishing violins, Wolf makes a stinging commentary on today's music world. In it he sings, "And in this drought of truth and invention/Whoever shouts the loudest gets the most attention".

Track two is "Teignmouth" which blends so well with the opener, it had to be included. Dark and brooding, Wolf somehow finds an acceptable niche between Evanscence and Enya. I know, I know, I didn't think it was there either. In his wall of minor chord sounds, Wolf lays down a faint laptop beat and proceeds to use his best instrument, his booming voice. There is definitely a hint of ol' Moz in Wolf's howl but there is more urgency and authority, and way less whiny bitchiness.

This brings me back to Mr. Oberst. Hope you continue making fabulous music. I just wanted to say with my wisening with old age, I've become more accepting of your emo-tastic ways. With this newfound inner peace, my conversations can go more like this:

"Hey Chris, your haircut is soooo cute."
"I love Patrick Wolf."
"Okayyyyyyyy, well, that's the end of this date."

Patrick Wolf: http://www.tomlab.de
Conor Oberst: http://www.theonion.com/nib/index.php?issue=4113&nib=5

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I Awkwardly Sing the Body, Electronic

of Montreal
The Sunlandic Twins (Polyvinyl)

I've always felt that it was peculiar that band from Athens, Georgia would name themselves of Montreal. Nothing ever seemed normal with this band and that was the main draw for me. of Montreal was a rube goldberg of an outfit; they seemed to make things overly complicated to create a simple product of a pop song. A friend once complained that there was too much going on; it was hard to wade through all the bullshit to find the pop gem that lied underneath. I, on the other hand, felt it was impressive that amongst the mayhem that ensued in a standard of Montreal song, the catchy melodies and hooks always came through. Though I never fully agreed with my friend's sentiment, it appears that Kevin Barnes is now catering to my difficult friends.

For the past four weeks I have been immersing myself in the new of Montreal album The Sunlandic Twins because I'm what the experts would call "a fanatic". With each listen, the fondness I have for albums such as Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies, The Gay Parade and The Bedside Tragedy stay strong but the identity of my darling indie pop band is being transformed. This ain't your mom's of Montreal; gone are the kazoo orchestras and noodling basslines. They've been replaced by synthetic handclaps and disco drive. Much like Luke Skywalker losing his hand in Empire Strikes Back, of Montreal has lost the human touch and have replaced it with more cold, yet surprisingly comparable, robotic feel. Unlike albums past, The Sunlandic Twins feels less cohesive, yet passes off its "electronic" sound as a concept. In comparison to the back catalog, it also seems unfittingly simple. It is too soon to tell whether this is indeed a concept or just the direction of that Barnes is taking his project.

This is really not much of a surprise that Barnes is going dance. 2004's lovely Satanic Panic in the Attic hinted at electronically forward thinking. "Rapture Rapes the Muses" was high-tempo futuristic dance piece that seemed like pure festivity, but with more listens, became increasingly awkward, as if the song was clinging on to it's mythically-charged, cabaret-inspired background. The Sunlandic Twins is Barnes' vision fully realized with such tracks as "So Begins Our Alabee" and "I Was Never Young". This is truly Barnes' vision, as he wrote and performed this all on his own, not employing the help of his usual cast of characters. With out the band, of Montreal comes off less Kinks, more Duran Duran.

While the glitchy experiments like "I was a Landscape in Your Dreams" and "Death of a Shade of a Hue" are a bit unsettling for the tried and true fans, his disco tracks are smoother than an open butterfly collar with a gold medallion nested on chest hair. "Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games", with its minimalistic arrangment, is funky to death, and "Oslo in the Summertime" bounces sedately, but with undeniable charm. While "Forecast Fascist Future" is Cherry Peel vintage, "The Party's Crashing Us" is Barnes at his best, a timeless pop song that would endure in any age, era or scene.

When it all boils down, the songs are still marvelous. And despite its catching me off guard, I still eat it up. I can always count on two things, of Montreal and Star Wars, no matter how sonically different, grossly computer-animated or badly dialogued the new releases are compared to the original. It's a fault that I don't mind admitting to.

The Sunlandic Twins arrives in record stores 4/12/05. of Montreal is playing the Great American Music Hall on 6/2/05 with Tilly and the Wall and Numbers.

of Montreal: http://www.ofmontreal.net

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