Wednesday 03.24.2010 | 12:23 PM UTC

Adolescent Regression: Art by Derek Smalls?

iPhone + CameraBag “Instant” | © maunet

A wife, a mortgage, credit card debt, tinnitus, back aches, insomnia and hangovers that last for days. These are the signs and trappings of grown-up life. Yet me and my 40-something bandmates can’t stop laughing like Beavis and Butthead at this brilliant piece of Sharpie artwork in our rehearsal space.

I know. We should know better. But Derek would be proud.

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Sunday 03.21.2010 | 6:23 PM UTC

Undercover: Don’t be fooled by legit imitations

Part 1 of 2

Some things to keep in mind:

1. There’s nothing new under the sun
2. Some ideas are better than others
3. Some ideas’ mothers are bigger than other ideas’ mothers
4. I thought of it first

In 1999 I started amassing a hefty collection of cover songs recorded or performed by big-gun artists and fledgling indies. Lovingly sequenced, badly art-directed and inspiringly named, Undercover became a coveted collection of faithful renditions and inspired interpretations of the pop music canon.

125-tracks strong and still growing, it reminds us of pre-teen years spent in front of a mirror, tennis racket slung low, air-guitaring our way to stardom to the strains of Highway to Hell. Ok, for me it was more like air-drumming with utter precision through the whole of Moving Pictures. It’s the unspoiled yen of a pure heart that aspires a kid to get the band back together again, learning to rock by imitation of our musical heroes.

There’s much to, um, cover on the subject, so for now I say just this:

It’s mine. All mine. Don’t be fooled by legit imitations:

http://10trecords.com/10t-undercover-officially-released-today/

10 years prior to this sham, The Original is so much better. Nyah, nyah. Witness a selection from Volumes 1 thru 5 (hurriedly compiled, unlovingly sequenced, for now). You can hear complete versions of each volume here or in the audio player at the top of this page.

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Wednesday 03.17.2010 | 10:23 PM UTC

Big Star Fades to Black: Alex Chilton R.I.P

© Jim Newberry Photography

UPDATE:

Extremely cool that today on C-Span, during Health Care Bill deliberations, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi granted Tennessee House of Representatives Steve Cohen (D) one minute to pay tribute to “a great friend of mine… from my home town of Memphis.”

WATCH IT HERE

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Stellar songwriter Alex Chilton is dead at 59, of an apparent heart attack. Sigh.

Last December I passed up a chance to see a reunited Big Star at Brooklyn’s Masonic Temple, opting instead to spend my dollars on the Bob Dylan shows also happening that week. I regretted it then, doubly so now.

Big Star was one of those bands that felt very much of my time, despite peaking 10 years before Sister Lovers and Radio City made their way into my record collection. I came of age in the keyboard-swathed 80′s, but something about that late 70′s sound and Chilton’s guitar/vocal combo felt instantly familiar–a members-only respite for those making the uneasy transition between high school and college. The defiant pop of “You Can’t Have Me” and “You Get What You Deserve” justified and fed our disdain for authority; the romanticism of “September Gurls,” “Thirteen,” “Back of a Car,” and “I’m In Love With A Girl” conjured rosy-glow memories of young love; and the eery strains of “Kangaroo,” “Holocaust” and “Big Black Car” gave many starry-eyed, angry young men cause to re-think the quest for rock n’ roll fame. All of this Chilton managed without maudlin sentimentality; without self-pity; without tainting earnest expression with irony.

But I’ll remember Alex Chilton most as the author of one my Top 5 Songs of all time. Joining the ranks of “Blackbird,” “Wish You Were Here,” and “Bird On a Wire,” Big Star’s “Thank You Friends” gives voice to a thought not expressed enough among us. So much so, it became the centerpiece of me and my wife’s wedding soundtrack and our ceremony’s general sentiment:

Thank you, friends
Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you
I’m so grateful for all the things you helped me do.

 Indeed, Mr. Chilton, thank you.

Saturday 03.13.2010 | 7:23 PM UTC

Secret Meeting, Pt. 2:
The National’s High Violet Live

This is gonna be short ’cause I wanna spend some time thinking about last night’s killer opening act Buke + Gass, (scroll down).

The National’s second night at The Bell House treated it’s lucky audience to a tighter, more controlled performance of the band’s forthcoming LP High Violet (in stores May 11). Which is not to say that the band didn’t let loose. Matt especially took his now- familiar plunge into the audience during “Mr. November” one extra step, challenging his stage crew as he pushed the limits of his mic cord to find his wife seated in a reserved nook next to the sound board. Clutching her lovingly, he screamed the tracks mantra once, twice, three times a lady before traipsing back on stage for the song’s finale.

It’s this kind of performance that whips their fans into a frenzy. The stable catalog of songs performed last might was greeted with predictable cheers and affection. But High Violet’s tracks have yet to see the formal light of day, leaving the audience challenged to hook in to the new material’s denser, less song-y structures. The audience’s relative lack of energy during these tracks definitely reflected on the band as they reached to make an impression that has yet to be cemented. But relax boys. Give ‘em a few listens more and they’ll be eating out of your hands the whole set through.

all images Canon G11 | © maunet.com

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Saturday 03.13.2010 | 6:23 PM UTC

Beautiful Noise: Brooklyn’s Buke + Gass

Describing a creative act as “interesting” is often a polite way of calling it “tedious.” So very not so in the case of last night’s opening act for The National’s repeat performance at The Bell House.

Brooklyn’s Buke + Gass prick up your ears to a most unusual and exciting approach to making pop music. B+G’s Arone Dyer and Aron Sanchez have literally built for themselves a Frankenstein family of musical instruments anchored by the Buke (a bass ukelele) and a Gass (a stringed instrument equal parts bass and electric guitar). Add a sizable kick-drum festooned with shakers and tambourines, zap it all hot with distortion and you’ve got more beautiful noise than the aggregate members of your favorite Canadian musical collective are capable of making.

Born of an appalachian Kate Bush with a Led Zeppelin complex, the songs on the band’s debut record +/- mine Ledbelly’s gritty blues to produce playfully psychotic little rockers that would turn PJ Harvey green with envy. The tracks buzz, growl, stomp and swagger like a bear having his way with a swarm of bees; but rest assured, beneath all the clang and clatter lie some seriously sticky treats.

Listen to “Outt!” from +/–

Then go buy the record at http://www.bukeandgass.com/

all images Canon G11 | © maunet.com

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Friday 03.12.2010 | 12:23 PM UTC

Secret Meeting Pt.1:
The National Road Test High Violet

Poised to release their followup to Boxer, The National gathered a few hundred friends, family and music press last night for the first of an intimate two-night stint at Bell House in Gowanus, Brooklyn, where they took the entirety of High Violet for a loose, raucous spin around the block. The shows were a tightly guarded secret unthwarted by the usual leaks and breaches. The Circle of Trust remains.

The boys seemed glad to be out of the confines of the studio, where they have spent the last 10 months crafting what is shaping up to be yet another leap forward in songwriting and, particularly, studio production. Matt was loose and jovial, thanking the band, the audience and his brand-new microphone stand, of which he seemed quite taken by. He joked his way through as he tripped over the opening lyric to “Start A War,” the band determined to avoid a false start. Scott bobble-danced his way through the bass parts as drummer Bryan shredded the set with furious sixteenths. The Brothers Dessner banged, clawed and thrashed the guitars to produce High Violet’s growling new textures, while guest musicians Conrad Doucette (Takka Takka, drums + percussion) and Thomas Bartlett (Doveman, piano) joined the core group to fill out the densely-layered new tracks. The now-familiar horn section of Kyle Resnick and Ben Lanz lent the usual brassy class to the high-energy performance.

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Stay tuned for more following tonight’s repeat performance.
In the meantime, you can get a small taste of HV on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon where TN performed Terrible Love this past Wednesday:

Thursday 03.11.2010 | 3:23 PM UTC

Practice Pad: Mistaken For Strangers

This post needs little embellishment. Suffice to say, this kid is an inspiration to drummers and National fans as she pretty much nails the complex sticking patterns of Bryan Devendorf’s remarkable drum track. You’ll find others on YouTube doing the same thing, perhaps technically more proficient, but none with the charm of this girl’s bewildering choice of practice tracks.

Monday 03.08.2010 | 8:23 PM UTC

And the Winners Are: Surprise!

So at least this year’s Oscars were not quite as predictable as they can be. Many of the choices defied cynical attitudes towards the Academy. Which is not to say that all their choices this year made any fucking sense–but at least it wasn’t boring. There certainly were more head-scratching, cringe-inducing moments this year than any ceremony I can recently recall. And some welcome firsts transpired as the first woman won the Best Director award while Jeff Bridges finally got his due, Dude. //More

Sunday 03.07.2010 | 7:23 PM UTC

Pros & Cons: Countdown to Oscar

There are so many reasons to hate the Oscars. It’s prom night for the celebrity set. It’s tediously long. It’s indulgent acceptance speeches. It’s lame hosts reaching for laughs and falling flat (John Stewart and Billy Crystal gleefully exempted). It’s often a reward for middling achievements in popular filmmaking. And more often than not, each year the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts & Sciences consistently disappoints discerning audiences in choosing the best picture of the year. But…

I still find myself drawn to them–particularly in the last few years, when some truly remarkable films and performances have made the dubious Oscar grade. George Clooney and David Straithern in Good Night, and Good Luck; Tilda Swinton and George Clooney in Michael Clayton. Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan.Roger Deakins double nomination for Best Cinematography for different films in the same year (No Country for Old Men and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford).

Then there’s the few unscripted award night moments that break through the artifice to reveal something genuine: Glen Hansard’s  inspiringly modest acceptance speech for Best Original Song followed by John Stewart’s decisive, utterly classy move to give co-writer Marketa Irglova her due after being rudely cut off by commercial interests.

So I must admit I’m looking forward to tonight’s events. Even though I’m worried the Academy will favor Precious to undeservedly sweep (I know, I’m an asshole) and Avatar, perhaps just a little less deservedly, will come a close second. Or is it the other way around? Either way, ho-hum… And don’t get me started on the pandering and highly offensive choice to include The Blind Side among the Best Picture candidates. Affluent white woman saves underprivileged black teen from a presumed life of poverty and crime. You fucking kidding me?

But on the flip side… an animated feature is amongst the Best Picture nominees for, I believe, the first time. The awesomely weird District 9 has not chance, but it’s up there. The Dude is nominated, this time as a drunken country singer. And George Clooney is once again nominated. He won’t win this year, but still…I love that man. Not in a gay way. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Saturday 03.06.2010 | 7:23 PM UTC

New York Times: Best Performances
(and scariest hair) of the Decade

Besides Sandra Bullock’s startling hair do, there’s more than a few good reasons to check out this tasteful little clip–celebrities are asked their pick for Best Performance of the Decade. There’s some predictably just answers (Kate Winslet, duh), but more often than not, this group of indie and A-list actors come up with some thoughtful, interesting choices. The fact that Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan was not one of them still boggles the mind, but… there was one response in particular that caught my attention: Jake Gyllenhall chose “any performance by Peter Sarsgaard.” Abso-fucking-lutely. About time some one said it.

Now, whether this is nepotisim or not (his sis Maggie is married to Peter) I could care less. Sarsgaard consistently outperforms all others in small and headlining roles alike (check out Shattered Glass, Boys Don’t Cry, Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Kinsey and Until The End of the World, to start with). His measured, minimalist performances are as disciplined as any of Matt Damon’s work (after Syriana, The Good Shepherd and the Bourne films we can legitimately consider Ben Who-fleck’s ex-boyfriend a fine actor). So, if Damon is the “thinking man’s action hero,” then Sarsgaard is the thinking man’s…thinking man.

Watch the interviews on New York Times Video

Sunday 02.28.2010 | 4:23 PM UTC

Who are You? I Am Kloot

And who the hell is Kloot? It’s not you, and it’s not me, and it’s certainly not John & Bree.
Shit. That wasn’t supposed to rhyme.

Once upon a time, Morrissey and The Verve hitched a ride with Robyn Hitchcock, rounded up the Go-Betweens and made their merry way to a Paris cabaret where David J was taking the stage, strapped with a Gretsch, spewing a mouthful of bees.

I Am Kloot are three Manchester lads who last decade released a slew of remarkable records. I’m sure there’s more than a few coolies out there that beat us to them, but for those still on the catch-up: these records are so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend you pick one up.

2001′s Natural History leans to the acoustic just enough to be sensitive but not so much as to be fey. These are delicate little ditties guarded by wild swings and jabs. But five years later the gloves come off on the BBC Radio 1 Peel Sessions. Peel recordings have always captured performers at their most exciting and elemental. In this environment the three-piece sounds lithe and muscular, the vocal delivery both intimate and intimidating. It’s a pastiche of bossa nova shuffle, windmill blues and la-la love-you-nots.

Those Brits. They that sure as shit know how to make pop records.

Just a taste…

Saturday 02.27.2010 | 9:23 PM UTC

Spot On: Some Songs Considered

The idea behind NPR’s All Songs Considered has spawned a musicologist as obsessive, if not considerably more disciplined and eloquent, as yours truly. Brian Wall’s Some Songs Considered blog serves up daily observations focusing on a single track–as catchy an idea as Rob Grover’s charming blog The Song That Got Stuck In My Head Today.

Today’s post takes the words right out of my mouth:

“…it’s hard to “stumble” on music from another era without an introduction. For example, I count a bunch of records from the postpunk era among my favorites, but I discovered them many years later.”

Not an entirely original statement, but one that rings especially true here. My own recent obsession with PostPunk was initially sparked by certain Brooklyn bands’ appropriation of the period; aided and abetted by Simon Reynolds’ Rip It Up and Start Again; and permanently cemented by Gang of Four’s Entertainment! Thusly PostPunk became a staple of my musical diet a full 25 years after it’s inception.

But enough about me… check it out:

http://somesongsconsidered.com/