Wednesday, November 29, 2006
VOOM VOOM - "Peng Peng"
Every now and then I’ll be going to work and all of a sudden I’ll be listening to something that turns my commute into more of a video game than pure drudgery. When you listen to VOOM VOOM’s latest release Peng Peng while commuting to work, the game is always kick ass and you always win. Yesterday when I heard “Bounce,” an especially jumpy track (also my favorite), I felt like Super Mario. The music was so overpowering that I jumped straight up with my right hand extended upwards and punched the roof of the EL. Put this album on while driving and you never run out of nitro boosts. Listen to this album while boxing with Mike Tyson and never run or miss an uppercut. If Peng Peng is playing, somehow, when you are running through a jungle while shooting swarming robotic enemies and evil men falling from trees, you will have unlimited lives and never run out of ammo. An electronic trio consisting of Peter Kruder, Christian Prommer and Roland Appel, VOOM VOOM has got the talent, the technique and a killer sense of style to match. God I wish my Nintendo still worked.
To Live and Shave in LA - "Noon and Eternity"
Ok so I’m going to give this band a 4/5 purely out of fear. Not from fear of the members or of the music, but simply because I think I’m too dumb to understand it. Like some of John Zorn’s 10 second compositions, this shit is just pure mental. In the immortal words of Lou from Springfield’s police force, “The Yellow’s got my by my brain banana.” Don’t get me wrong, I love new music, especially new music I don’t like or understand right away. Usually, after a few listens I come to like whatever was questionable, or at least understand an album for its good points – I rarely ever dismiss something straight off. I’m not doing that here with TLASILA’s Noon and Eternity, I just think I might need to complete a doctorate thesis on the album to understand every nuance. What I do know is that Tom Smith’s experimental gang including Rat Bastard, Ben Wolcott, Andrew W.K., Don Fleming, Chris Grier, Mark Morgan and Thurston Moore have put out quite a piece of work. We are talking 18 minute songs, feedback, and disorganized organization. I feel smarter for listening to it, but also quite confused. I like it.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Live - 10/2 Vic Theatre
Every now and then I go to a show without hearing anything from the bands I’m going to see. Because I don’t want viruses from downloading music, I often preview the bands in a few muddled 30 second clips from Amazon.com on an out-dated Windows Media Player. Such was the case when I headed out to see Architecture in Helsinki and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah at the Vic in early October. In fact, all I knew is that by the looks of the band-names on paper, I was about to see some hipster music. Would there be dancing, or head nodding? Track jackets? Miller High Life? It’s not fair to pull a Stephen Colbert (who always judges books by their covers) and judge a show by the ticket, is it?
Oh, and was I ever surprised. As it turned out, the Australian instant-party known as Architecture in Helsinki was one of the most fun bands that I’ve seen in a long time – and boy, were there a lot of them up there! I guess the newest thing in rock is to keep switching instruments like musical chairs because with the exception of the guitarist/singer frontman Cameron Bird, the band tossed instruments around like it was going out of style. The show started with a loud BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM, followed by a punchy bassline, scraggy acoustic strumming and high-pitched, nearly indecipherable singing from Cameron and his mates. Throughout the set, if he wasn’t strumming his acoustic guitar as fast as possible, Cameron picked up spare drum sticks and hit a sample pad like a Viking on his way to Iceland.
The 30 second clips from work did not do this band justice live. Either they changed their sound for the tour or the volume control on my Windows Media Player was too low, because they ROCKED live. But on my computer, in 30 sec. intervals, they just sounded interesting. Architecture in Helsinki gets an B+.
On to the big boys, the hand-clapping instigators, 4/5 of which are from the home of Saturday Night Fever (singer Alec Ounsworth hails from Philly). Impervious to the wicked thunderstorm outside, this quintet hit the stage and immediately launched into their up-tempo, slightly up-beat guitar rock with a side of heavy flange. I recognized one of their songs, “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth,” which definitely stuck in my head from my Windows Media Player jam session from earlier in the afternoon. Thanks to their Myspace page I could listen to more than 30 seconds of it at work the next day. The band continued on to play their entire debut album and they even tried out a few new songs which may appear on their new record, the dreaded second album.
Why would the second album be dreaded? Because a band with this good of a debut record, such an interesting story and famous high profile fans such as Davide Bowie, David Byrne and Myself may or may not have a lot to live up to. Oh yeah, not to mention the malleable judgment of a scenester fanbase, some of whom have built-in phobias of liking popular things. I personally give them a lot of credit. Firstly, for putting on a really fun show and putting together a great bill (I missed Takka Takka). Secondly, for doing what everybody with a band wants to do –record and release your own album, and suddenly be touring the world on your own efforts.
Hmm, come to think of it, I propose that the so-called backlash is simply a few critics’ self-disappointment manifested. In other words, maybe these fans that all of a sudden became ‘critical’ of CYHSY’s success (signing to Wichita Recordings in the UK) are simply bummed that their band is still in that one dude’s basement. There sure wasn’t any backlash or ill-will at the concert, however, only good vibes and good music. I think their show was great and I’m looking forward to their next one, or at least some new 30 second intervals on Windows Media Player.
Grade A.
Originally published at Staticmultimedia.com
Oh, and was I ever surprised. As it turned out, the Australian instant-party known as Architecture in Helsinki was one of the most fun bands that I’ve seen in a long time – and boy, were there a lot of them up there! I guess the newest thing in rock is to keep switching instruments like musical chairs because with the exception of the guitarist/singer frontman Cameron Bird, the band tossed instruments around like it was going out of style. The show started with a loud BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM, followed by a punchy bassline, scraggy acoustic strumming and high-pitched, nearly indecipherable singing from Cameron and his mates. Throughout the set, if he wasn’t strumming his acoustic guitar as fast as possible, Cameron picked up spare drum sticks and hit a sample pad like a Viking on his way to Iceland.
The 30 second clips from work did not do this band justice live. Either they changed their sound for the tour or the volume control on my Windows Media Player was too low, because they ROCKED live. But on my computer, in 30 sec. intervals, they just sounded interesting. Architecture in Helsinki gets an B+.
On to the big boys, the hand-clapping instigators, 4/5 of which are from the home of Saturday Night Fever (singer Alec Ounsworth hails from Philly). Impervious to the wicked thunderstorm outside, this quintet hit the stage and immediately launched into their up-tempo, slightly up-beat guitar rock with a side of heavy flange. I recognized one of their songs, “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth,” which definitely stuck in my head from my Windows Media Player jam session from earlier in the afternoon. Thanks to their Myspace page I could listen to more than 30 seconds of it at work the next day. The band continued on to play their entire debut album and they even tried out a few new songs which may appear on their new record, the dreaded second album.
Why would the second album be dreaded? Because a band with this good of a debut record, such an interesting story and famous high profile fans such as Davide Bowie, David Byrne and Myself may or may not have a lot to live up to. Oh yeah, not to mention the malleable judgment of a scenester fanbase, some of whom have built-in phobias of liking popular things. I personally give them a lot of credit. Firstly, for putting on a really fun show and putting together a great bill (I missed Takka Takka). Secondly, for doing what everybody with a band wants to do –record and release your own album, and suddenly be touring the world on your own efforts.
Hmm, come to think of it, I propose that the so-called backlash is simply a few critics’ self-disappointment manifested. In other words, maybe these fans that all of a sudden became ‘critical’ of CYHSY’s success (signing to Wichita Recordings in the UK) are simply bummed that their band is still in that one dude’s basement. There sure wasn’t any backlash or ill-will at the concert, however, only good vibes and good music. I think their show was great and I’m looking forward to their next one, or at least some new 30 second intervals on Windows Media Player.
Grade A.
Originally published at Staticmultimedia.com
Darker My Love - Self Titled
So I was Pacman this year for Halloween. For the second year in a row, I’ve decided to pass on obscure or cult movie characters or anything actually ‘scary,’ in lieu of costumes that are straight-ahead obvious. Last year I was a giant bag of jellybeans, and this year I tied two over-sized yellow foamboard circles around my neck, complete with black circle eyes and triangle mouths. The reasoning behind this new policy is simple: no one would question what I am. If someone was drunk enough and asked, I’d say “Obviously, I am Pacman sir.”
Sometimes bands take the opposite approach. Such is the case with Darker My Love, a California quartet that plays within such a loose, heavily spaced-out fuzzy haze that its hard to figure out what the hell is going on. Is that one song over? Is that a guitar solo, feedback, or did he just leave his guitar ringing while he lit a cigarette? Whatever is going on, it’s all good. Their self-titled album consists of loose-fitting, reverby guitar rock jams; a dozen tracks baked with just enough pepper to keep you awake at the wheel.
At a Halloween party Darker My Love is not easy to put a finger on, like some people’s Halloween costumes. Calling them psychedelic would be too easy and trite. While someone else may come off as a weirdo or pretentious while smugly explaining their Millard Fillmore costume, Darker My Love is just cool. They are the guys who don’t give a crap about Halloween, or your costume for that matter. “What’s your costume?” you say. “Just a rock band,” they reply while looking over your shoulder, eying the bottles of whiskey on the table next to the pair of nurses.
Originally featured at Staticmultimedia.com
Sometimes bands take the opposite approach. Such is the case with Darker My Love, a California quartet that plays within such a loose, heavily spaced-out fuzzy haze that its hard to figure out what the hell is going on. Is that one song over? Is that a guitar solo, feedback, or did he just leave his guitar ringing while he lit a cigarette? Whatever is going on, it’s all good. Their self-titled album consists of loose-fitting, reverby guitar rock jams; a dozen tracks baked with just enough pepper to keep you awake at the wheel.
At a Halloween party Darker My Love is not easy to put a finger on, like some people’s Halloween costumes. Calling them psychedelic would be too easy and trite. While someone else may come off as a weirdo or pretentious while smugly explaining their Millard Fillmore costume, Darker My Love is just cool. They are the guys who don’t give a crap about Halloween, or your costume for that matter. “What’s your costume?” you say. “Just a rock band,” they reply while looking over your shoulder, eying the bottles of whiskey on the table next to the pair of nurses.
Originally featured at Staticmultimedia.com
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