Daily Jenny Lewis Update

Okay you got me... I'M THE HUGE JENNY LEWIS LOVER.

Well, I did find fluxblog had another track from J-Lew's upcoming solo with the Watson twins (entitled Rabbit Fur Coat). This begs the question: Can it truly be considered a solo album if the twins are involved? No matter, all my dreams were incalculably shattered when I found out the Watson twins had nothing to do with the Coors Light twins, who simultaneously are sicko gross-out and unbelieveably laughable. I'm rambling.

The song of hour is called "Born Secular" which seems ironically wonderful that Lewis leads the twins in a beautifully vocalized, gospel-like, soul number. Fluxblog calls it "amazing stuff" and I, well, I'm too breathless and flustered to disagree.

Live it here.


Dude, this totally woulda made my album covers collage.

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So Begins the Gauntlet: Songs of the Day

Okkervil River "No Key, No Plan" from Black Sheep Boy Appendix (Jagjaguwar)

Jenny Lewis "Handle With Care" from the forthcoming Rabbit Fur Coat (Team Love)



With the holiday onslaught upon us, there's a bigger task than managing my miniscule budget: the daunting task of picking my favorite albums of 2005. Knowing that this will take most of the month of December, I'm officially putting the new music blog machine in cool down mode. I'm not saying it's gonna be Operation: Shut Down, it just means more songs of the day and less full painstaking album reviews. Trust me, when you see the fabulous list in full effect, it'll all be worth it.

That being said, Okkervil River really skipped ahead. There are tons of records to address that came out months ago, but "No Key, No Plan" really shocked me like my beloved A's acquiring Esteban Loaiza. Seriously, what the fuck?!??!?

Really, after the last time I saw Okkervil River live, I was somewhat disenchanted. Yes, dear readers, it started to feel like a crash and burn relationship; I was falling out of love. Perhaps it was Will Sheff's strep throat or maybe it was the distraction of seeing an old friend for the first time in years, but I wasn't with them at Cafe Du Nord. I sung Black Sheep Boy's praises, celebrated the overdue discovery of the Austin band mere months ago. But after a few fistful of high lifes and an overdose of slow songs, I feared it was over that night.

"No Key, No Plan" is the shake up I desperately needed. This is Okkervil at my doorstep with a dozen roses, an apologetic expression and most importantly, some goddamn rock. Bursting out of the gate with raging drums and rollicking bassline, the song doen't rely on much more than simple old fashioned rock and roll methods. Sheff pens a catchy tune with organs ablaze over country-ish acoutic guitars. This is all before the call and response choruses, which, who am I kidding, is really all a guy needs. You had me at "You never earned your soul". I know, I know.

Now, I turn to Troop Beverly Hills indie-pop princess Jenny Lewis, who must top most geek rock dudes' Xmas wishlist, assuming they aren't embarassed to admitting they like uber pop success Rilo Kiley. Fess up, seriously, truth feels pretty good.


J-Lew and the Watson Twins: Uhhh. Best date ever?

In "Handle With Care", Lewis reworks the Traveling Wilbury's original with little to offer except for the already great tune that the supergroup (Harrison, Dylan, Orbison, Petty, Lynne, duh) already crafted. Granted she's got the chops, but at the end of the day, this is still just a cover.

But not all is lost. I told Brian Brophy the other night that I live for indie celebrity gossip, using Eleanor Friedberger and Alex Kapranos as my key example. If I was an insider, I'd have my own show on E! for indie rock gossip horseshit. One thing this cover has is a star studded cast, as Lewis enlists the vocal talents of Ben Gibbard, Conor Oberst, M Ward and n00bs (Row, for you) the Watson Twins. Pretty damn glitzy if you ask me, and if most of her upcoming solo debut Rabbit Fur Coat is laden with country-ish rock numbers in the vain of the Wilburys, with Lewis' keen ear for the melodic, it should be decent enough.

Gorilla Vs. Bear has the track for download here.

Alright, time to go, perhaps I'll see you guys at the Gogogoairheart/Joggers show Wednesday? Let's make it a date.

Okkervil River: http://www.okkervilriver.com
Jenny Lewis: http://www.rilokiley.com

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Do the Mystery: Song/Dance of the Day

Menomena "Flour" from Under an Hour (Film Guerrero)



When I was just a lad, like most children and all Asian children, I was forced to learn piano. Today, at my most virtuosic, I can play like slapping a row of low fives. With anything more complicated than that, I fumble, clumsy like like nerd approaching second base. I like to think that I was better then, mainly because of the pushing of my mom. Before every recital, we watched Milos Forman's Amadeus as if it was gonna inspire something great in me, unleashing my inner Mozart. Looking back now, Stephen Hawking could have watched Rocky and had more of a chance at following through.

A couple weeks ago, after a night of not so serious drinking, I wandered into my dimly lit apartment to find my flatmate Kimberley (aka Panther) watching Amadeus. Full of nostalgia and Tecate, I plopped down on the sofa and took it all in. In the scene, Mozart, played by the over the top Tom Hulce, is trying to sell the idea of "The Marriage of Figaro" to the Emperor/King by describing a musical situation where person is singing. One by one, another person joins, and another, and another and so on, until more than a dozen are all singing different lines in harmony. He argues that only in opera and music can that many voices be heard without being a completely noisy mess. Then he does that intolerable girlish giggle and I cringe.

This theory is put to work in Menomena's "Flour" with amazing results (end completely exhausting and semi-pointless intro). Leading up from a sparse plinking piano (glockenspiel? xylophone?), an intense, staccato sax riff enters the scene and takes a position that won't be unseated. It stabs back and forth in an almost Hitchockian manner; it's dark and shadowy, and it stalks like an unknown villain's heavy footsteps. With two in the picture, three is no crowd, and an elegant rolling piano glides in effortlessly. The suspense builds immensely until past the third minute, when the enigma is slightly revealed and illuminated with the crashing brass heavy drums. The villain is unmasked and a sinister but swaying sax melody weaves through the harsh rhythmic chopping. It then remasks itself, giving a hazy glimpse of the future, a thrilling preview of things to come and flees back into the shadows of the night.

"Flour" all but stops at the five minute mark. It reinvents itself in the minor chords of simplistic piano stylings, occasionally revisiting that ominous sax in various forms. Drum rolls and heavy bass litter much of "Act II" and Menomena cleverly sub in and out the signature cymbal-driven drum line and the elegant rolling piano. There are only traces and clues of this mysterious entity until they start building the tension once again 2/3 of the way through, culminating into a full exposition of what we have on our hands: a gloriously dark and melodic, texturally complex masterpiece. And shit, it only took 19 minutes to figure it out.

Well, sophisticates like moi, embraced its genius at around minute four, but it didn't stop me from listening to it 6-7 times in row completely wiping out my schudule for saturday afternoon ("What? Did nothing cancel?"). I knew what was getting into. I just didn't know I was gonna like it this damn much.

With all this meddling about, trying to figure out what's going on, the Nancy Drew in all of us have to ask why? As Sherlock would have it: what's the motive? (Or in Chief Wiggum speak, mo-tyve?) Why would a smashing, up and coming Portland experimental-electro-rock pop group make a 19 minute instrumental song? Menomena wrote the aptly named Under an Hour (pictured here) for a modern dance piece by the troupe Monster Squad. Seperated into three performances, of "Water" (17:52), "Flour" (18:42) and "Light" (17:29), Menomena performed these songss live with Monster Squad at some artsy-fartsy dance festival. But the real mystery lies in why the hell Under an Hour has a Parental Advisory label on it. Sheesh. Talk about artsy fartsy. Hipply ironic? Or ironically hip?

The beauty of these epic instrumental pieces is Menomena's unmistakable attention to melody. They retain a listenable and poppy sound throughout all their experimentation, and admirably chose a path less worn in presenting their pop ideas and expressions. In the 54 minutes, they incorporate touches of Yann Tiersen, Jon Brion, Clint Mansell's work with the Kronos Quartet (for Requeim for a Dream) and even The Books. Yes, those are all the soundtrack artists I know but it really holds true.

So with Amadeus in recent memory and Menomena for kick-in-the-pants inspiration, I might finally go somewhere. I might finally be able to get past "Chopsticks" and an abridged version of "Waltz of the Flowers" to tackle the real cutting edge stuff. I see the dusty, simple piano arrangement sheet music of "Everything I Do, I Do It For You" taunting me, and there's nothing in the this goddamn world that can stop me.


Ain't like any hipster dance you've ever done: Monster Squad performing "Flour"

Check out the live video clips that my quicktime plug-in refused to play, then describe them to me, move by move as you watch them. It's more fun that way.

Under an Hour (Menomena and Monster Squad): http://www.menomena.com/uah/uah-index.html

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Unlimited Juice...

This party is gonna be off the hook.

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Pretty Pretty Pretty Pretty Pretty

In lieu of Pitchfork's worst album covers list and Stereogum's ensuing discussion of covers in general (fist pound for shouting out Sonny Rollins' Way Out West) , I decided to do a quick up and down of my record shelf. Most of my favorites I found, undoubtedly I will miss something epic. Things were done quite hastily and with extreme laziness. For the most part I'll spare you the personal meaning of each to me (for instance, my obsession with Paul Weller's "Arrows" sweater, until the Hot Hot Heat ripped it off) but some covers (a few super-obvious) are, well, just pure awesomeness. Sure, I could have exercised a little more discretion but how pretty is my little collage of album covers?

And yes, I put two Belle and Sebastian covers, but Push Barman to Open Old Wounds was too good to pass up. What did I miss... aside from everything? Let me know...

In no remarkable order:

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Life Is Officially Pointless

Monday night, I felt like this...



Today, I feel like this...



and this...



and this...



and this...



Cue the Vince Guaraldi. FOX is officially number one on the hitlist. This will not stand. Rise up my people!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20051111/tv_nm/shows_dc

Pictures from the super rad Balboa Observer-Picayune.

Who can think of indie music at a tragic time like this?

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"My name is Otto and I love to get blotto"

Animal Collective
Feels (Fat Cat)

For about 45 minutes today, life was in fast forward. Frantically, I drove from work to the my registered polling place in Oakland, then rushed down the supermarket aisles to hunt down dinner and raced back to the Lower Haight to find prime parking before everyone else snatched it all up. Finding parking in the city is finding love.

Then when the rush was over, things got incredibly slow. I trudged down the hallway like a sloth, my internet connection ran like a 28.8 modem and for some reason my phone kept freezing and shutting on and off. I crawled into bed for my daily afternoon nap, put on Animal Collective's new album Feels, and the world made sense. Sort of.

Actually, Feels has been my bus riding music for the greater part of October and it seems apt. Riding the bus can be a colorful and excrutiating experience all at once. In one regard, you're in the weird world, surrounded by strange sights, smells and people. And I like to gawk ("people watch" for the gawkers in denial). In another regard, you are a victim of the system of tardy rides, transfers that don't last nearly long enough and the fear that you might be stuck until the universe ends or your El Farolito quesdilla gets cold. Either way, you're shit outta luck. Furthermore, you see your bus going the other way every 12 minutes, yet, you're standing there on the other side looking like an asshole.

Animal Collective with their last few releases have made this feeling an art. Feels follows the same path as its predecessors but with less pyschotic stab-yourself-in-the-neck of insane boredom moments.

Don't get me wrong, the fellas from Brooklyn are one of my favorites, and one of the brilliant things about them is their most amazing, high-fiving numbers surround and corner the repetitively lobotomizing slow and aimless ones. And through osmosis and some sort of aural vicatin, ease the pain.

The album opens with two of the most amazing tracks Avey and Panda have ever released. "Did You See the Words" rides a raucous drum beat and host of voices, over a comically lilting piano. This, my friends, is pop bliss in its most raw and beautifully awkwardly-attractive form. "Grass" continues this ridiculous melody explosion and defaces it with jarring shrieks and crashing cymbals in the chorus. I liken it being stabbed by Brian Wilson, which would be a fantastic way to die.

From there, you find respite with the reverb-y, delay-heavy, grossly-named "Flesh Canoe". The track gently rocks back and forth like a drunken tide, while you wade in its sonic murkiness. Right when you think your fingers are getting pruney, they thrust you right into "The Purple Bottle", a frantically percussive shout along.

While the hoe-down "Turn Into Something" is the only other upbeat song on Feels, AC has really grasped melody in their atmospheric experiments. "Banshee Beat" is a tremendously awesome track that sort of floats with grace and precision. Clickity clacks follow a gentle guitar rhythm, and slowly they crescendo with jungle noise vocals and thumping bass toms into a climax at a healthy 8 minutes. But dude, it really only feels like... I don't know... like 5-6 minutes. It's really amazing how much they've grown. I'm so proud of them. Honestly, "Bashee Beat" is a dream.

You know I was gona tie it all up and here it is: Feels is a bus ride. Some crazy is howling nonsense, you rarely feel a sense of balance and it reeks of something funky and weird. But along with this, comes the cute girls with ipods, laughing children and the gentle elderly humming a sweet tune. And best of all, you're going somewhere, moving right along. Something I can't say is really happening for me, right at this instance.

Animal Collective headlines the Great American Music Hall, 11/21/05. Get in there. Actually wait 'til I grab a ticket, then get in there. Seriously, just go see Tom Vek, and leave me alone.

Animal Collective: http://www.pawtracks.com
http://www.fat-cat.co.uk

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For Graphs of Passion and Charts of Stars

Birdie with a camera comes through yet again. And I? I am still picking my jaw off the ground. After seeing Metric and superstar Emily Haines for the fourth time, I am starting to wonder why throwing boxers, briefs or boxer briefs on stage never caught on.











Oh yeah, Oakland homeboys The Death of a Party and Montreal's The Lovely Feathers added to the delight of the audience, depite the former's namesake.


She (left back) looks slyly contemplative and
devilishly amused. He's (right back) like "what
the fuck, lady?"


Makeoutmakeoutmakeoutmakeout: my theme of the night.

A good time was had by all. Awwwww.



p.s. I was gonna title this entry " Et de ne jamais le trouver" but last night, "The Doctor" Oveis told me last night that the most recently entry was the dirtiest entry yet and that frankly, it was disgusting and a little (shudder) "gross." Now that I've mentioned that, let the foulmouth times go on, ass-dicks.

Metric: http://www.ilovemetric.com
The Death of a Party: http://www.thedeathofaparty.com
The Lovely Feathers: http://www.thelovelyfeathers.com

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Lazy is the New Efficient

To say that you procrastinate is to say that you are human. Everyone has admitted to doing this at one point in his/her life, perhaps many more times. I, on the other hand, was once dubbed "Lord of the Planet Slack" by a friend and fellow student (Graham Dobbin, to be specific). So, I win.

What do I win? The immense pleasure in bringing you three mini-album reviews. These albums are all worth mentioning for one reason or another but I had not the drive nor the time (away from my Arrested Development Season 2 DVDs, that is) to let it ride. I ran into Boss Brophy at the Jens Lekman show this past Saturday and he commented that I should/could start writing reviews for the print version of Mesh. This would involve an extreme conscious effort to be more concise. I tend to windbag it and turn, as Ruiz would say, "an easter egg hunt into a butt-fuck-a-thon". Whatever that means. But yes, I tend to... what do you call... "horseshit"? Okay, off to a bad start.

So here I begin my "exercise" in brevity and at the same time, savagely cut off the hangnail that is my backlog. (Though, I'm reserving a few things for major horseshit consideration.)


Castanets
First Light's Freeze (Asthmatic Kitty)

I don't know how Raymond Raposa was able to get more dark from Cathedral, but First Light's Freeze is demonstration in more gritty, shadowy alt-country. Instead of counter-balancing the folky tunes with pop songs, as they did on their previous effort, Castanets go spacey on First Light's Freeze. The best among them is the ethereal and electronic "All That I Know To Have Changed In You". Raposa's voice ripples over a shimmering pond of electronic noise with tremendous beauty. While the rest of the record is covered with earnest folk tunes, Raposa's experimental tracks stand out. Though neither type could exist without the other. The amazing thing about Castanets is their ability to be successfully be gently depressing on all planes.


The Constantines
Tournament of Hearts (Sub Pop)

I've often wondered whether you can become intense or whether you are born with intensity. The Constantines sound like they were born with it. The Fugazi meets Springsteen tag fits perfectly, as there is great sense of grit, workmanship and uplift that comes with each Constantines album. Tournament of Hearts is no match for their two previous albums Shine a Light and The Constantines. The songs are melodically less engaging and the tempos are less varying. But the intensity still remains strong. "Lizaveta" and "You Are a Conductor" are both tempo-wise, slow as molasses, but the heat is undeniable. The drums plug away slowly in the mass of guitar distortion with subtle horns accenting the gravity that their songs hold. "Love in Fear" and "Thieves" both lighten the load a bit; they are extremely plucky in comparison to their surroundings. In the end, Tournament of Hearts might not be their best to date, but it gets the job done, like most things blue collar, reliable and steeped in reality.


Tom Vek
We Have Sound (Go Beat!/Startime)

It won't surprise me when Tom Vek becomes uber-famous. His album title is very aptly named. On We Have Sound, Vek meshes a very raw... well, "sound", treble-laden garage guitar riffs and funky disco basslines with electronic effects. Fresh as a douche chill. For the effort put into making his sound, the songs are simplistic and the melodies are pretty bare. It's all show and just enough substance. No worries, at Vek's danciest, he's brilliant. Everything clicks, firing on all cylinders. "I Ain't Saying My Goodbyes" is one part The Rapture and one part Bloc Party, three parts cream jeans. The single "Nothing But Green Lights" is so Talking Heads that it straddles the fine line between homage and rip-off. And "If You Want" sports a bassline funkier than sharted drawers. Nevermind the inane lyrics, they're easily ignored and no one wants a bookworm on the dancefloor. That is unless you're going for the "sexy librarian" look. In that case, speak dewey decimal to me, baby!

Castanets: http://www.asthmatickitty.com
The Constantines: http://www.constantines.ca/
Tom Vek: http://www.tomvek.tv/

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