Getting Messy

Dr. Dog - Ain't it Strange
from We All Belong

Having lived in Germany for a time a few years back, there is a handful of conventional practices that I feel are missing from the North American lifestyle. Daily trips to the bakery, beers on the subway, wildly inventive herbal remedies, and the prevalence of drinking songs. It constantly amazed me how people of all ages and genders would so eagerly throw themselves into a rousing bar-wide rendition of John Denver's "Country Road" on a special occasion. Over and over again. It was very inspiring, actually, except for the John Denver part.

Likely the closest thing we have to common and popular drinking songs on this side of the pond is bar rock. Case in point: The Hold Steady. People -- that is, people who are drinking and into the idea of a bunch of people drinking together, and can find a bit of romanticism in the whole thing -- want to embrace that feeling of drowning one's sorrows, and they find something comforting in the group experience offered by bar rock's sheepish pathos. We just don't want to have to actually sing ourselves.

I propose that we start implementing drinking songs into standard North American life. Simple songs with a certain rambling, shameless, wryly melancholic sort of feel to them. Sub-proposal: the drinking songs will be taught to early adopters by bands who go around running drunken sing-alongs where everyone gets up on stage and has their arms around each other. And lots of whiskey.

This entire proposition has been drawn out of me by my recent minor obsession with a certain shambling ditty by these Philly boys that call themselves Dr. Dog. Ain't it Strange is a melancholy song filled with the warm hiss of a damp campfire and the rattly strings of a hobo guitar. With lyrics that are crisply and expertly universal, drawn straight from the frustration of mundanity and heartache, it's tough to avoid getting caught up and joining in on certain verses: "Ain't it strange / How a man who lives for nothin' can change / 'Cause if he stays the same he'll die a million days". The song is the perfect wry smile and a shared and knowing look. It's the good kind of messy, which is something that even good pop music rarely achieves. Cheers, Doc.

Click here to purchase We All Belong from Insound

Haiku Track Review, Vol. II

The Besnard Lakes - Disaster
Strings and muted horns
Equals campfire songs and
Whiskey breath reverb

Click here to purchase Are The Dark Horse from Insound.

Haiku Track Review, Vol. I

Poni Hoax - Involutive Star
Stupid band name, but
Nasty bass hits pretty hard;
French lads get it done.

*Note the FREE DOWLOAD link on the myspace page*
Click here to purchase Poni Hoax from CD Universe.

Dad Had The Eagles...

Midlake

(with St. Vincent)

Lee's Palace, Toronto

Monday 12 Feb 2007

I've come to accept the fact that I'm slowly becoming my father. The latest and most incriminating piece of evidence to support this supposition is my recent reverence for 70s-style folk pop. Popping up right when I was in the mood for it was Texas' Midlake, who (judging from their very different previous effort, the synth-y and kinda silly debut LP Bamnan & Silvercork) shared my sudden yearning for honey-sweet harmonies when crafting their warm and well-crafted sophomore disc, The Trials of Van Occupanther. Which may, in fact, be the greatest name bestowed on anything. Ever. Encouragingly, the album itself is stellar, one 2006's best. So imagine my excitement when I see that the art-school boys from Denton are finally rolling into town.

St.Vincent, a.k.a. solo performer Annie Clark, opened for Midlake on this leg of their tour. Listened to her songs online, sounded pretty cool and definitely unique. We made it out a little too late to catch her set, unfortunately. Mild inebriation and hilarious Internet videos are to blame for the tardiness. Very brief synopsis of her performance, coming from a friend of a friend (thanks Pete!) who watched the set: "It was kinda weird. Not really annoying, but ... you didn't miss much." Hmmm. My personal addendum: she is very cute in a big-glasses-and-crazy-80s-hair-and-makeup kind of way.

And then there was Midlake. The band took the stage as the video screen began displaying images of an outdoorsy and antiquated nature. First song sounded promising, blanketing the audience with shimmering waves of softly strummed guitars and quivering analogue keys. Nice. The band then launches into Roscoe (the juggernaut track from Van Occupanther, and the reason many of those present were in the audience in the first place, I expect), and... it sounded like grunge. Or something. It may have been the sound settings, and it could have had something to do with standing over by the wall, but Tim Smith's vocals sounded strained and rumbly; the much anticipated vocal harmonies were barely there in the mix when they were attempted (which was sadly not all that often). And my shoulders dropped an inch or so. The set played out in much the same way -- some tracks were quite good, some not so much, but never did they manage to approach the creamy tube-amp sound bestowed upon us by the album. Two tracks from Bamnan came off quite well, even providing a welcome respite from the Van Occupanther lineup, which the five-piece played in its entirety. All of this being said, however, the encore was worth the wait, as Midlake wisely chose to save heartfelt slow burner Branches for last.

A few conclusions from all of this. Having been suitably blown away by Grizzly Bear only a week earlier and in the same venue, the bar was set pretty high by my inner musical romantic. The key difference here is that GB is a group of undisputable musical talent and creativity, while Midlake is a crew of art school pals who create an aesthetic. There is a reason I refer to Van Occupanther as "well-crafted": this album is a portrait of the exploration of a new sound, and while it was admittedly created by a talented fivesome, it was difficult to leave this show without the feeling that this music is a meticulous creation of craftsmen -- rather than a stream of harmonious tonal warmth that the band simply channels from an alternate plane or a simpler time.

Best to look to Van Occupanther for its impressive studio polish and overall effect. And remember Midlake's parting words, repeating in the final strains of Branches: "It's hard for me, but I'm trying."

***

Look: it's the video for Roscoe!

Click here to purchase The Trials of Van Occupanther from Insound.

Musica Universalis

Grizzly Bear
(with Dirty Projectors)
Lee's Palace, Toronto
Tuesday 7 Feb 2007


Grizzly Bear is four dudes who all part their hair in the same direction. I suspect this may be akin to the way groups of women cohabiting for a long period of time end up with synchronized menstrual cycles. There are common particles, some sort of subatomic vibe talent beams flying back and forth between founder Ed Droste and his bandmates. These Brooklyn skinny boys are living proof that holing up together in yer ma's old house in rural Massachussets with nothing to do but collaborate on your collective penchant for dense, swelling suites of blissy psych can be a very fruitful pursuit. Also: sandwiches and lemonade!

Dirty Projectors took the stage early Tuesday evening, delivering a set of bravely aggressive vocal harmonies and instrumentation that made as much use of silence as it did precise fingerpicking. David Longstreth is a bold and booming vocalist, and the performance took full advantage of his band's rich ensemble backing vocals. This band begs comparison to a more free-jazz Animal Collective, with a nod to the vocal acrobatics (though not quite the falsetto) of Antony Hegarty. A must-see live in order to get the most out of their music -- most definitely warrants further listening. Dirty Projectors have a new disc, Rise Above, out on Western Vinyl later this year.

Grizzly Bear modestly sauntered out a short time later, and the capacity crowd settled down considerably in anticipation, save the usual crowd of yammering jackasses in the back. Much applause. Despite the fact that I was thoroughly impressed by Grizzly Bear the last time I saw them (early 2005, supporting Great Lake Swimmers), I wasn't prepared for the feeling of awe that came rushing back about a minute into Easier, the set opener. These boys are one tight musical unit, and the sheer density and layering in their music is a testament to the all-but-lost sense of subtlety and nuance in the majority of modern music. Prior to the show, I had some concerns about the Bear being able to reproduce the warm, organic sound that permeates Yellow House in its entirety. Thankfully, those concerns were unfounded. With minimal banter (save Ed playfully name-dropping his favourite Toronto spots: "Rotate This record store...") and absolutely no stage antics, the band still easily managed to floor me once again. Additional highlights: Knife, On a Neck, and a very noisy and surprisingly rockin' new tune apparently called Final Round.

Set List (thanks to suckingalemon on stillepost.ca):

• Easier
• Showcase (?)
• Lullabye
• Knife
• Final Round
• Little Brother
• Colorado
• Shift
• He Hit Me (?)
• Fix It
• On a Neck, On a Spit

Also: Watch the new video for Knife. TRUST ME.

And: Click here to purchase Yellow House from Insound. Click here to purchase New Attitude from Insound.

*Tour Poster respectfully borrowed from www.grizzly-bear.net*

The New Normal

We are those who search and sort and sift through the silt to find the shiny slivers of silver. We are those that hold newly-discovered nuggets of sonic brilliance to our chests, whispering to those who want to hear, to those that clutch their own treasures. We are those who refuse to listen to commercial radio. We are the radio. We are here to commune, to broadcast, to belt it out to those who choose to listen.

We are not on the fringes, as some would have you believe. We are dispersed, evenly spread, pervasive. We are the New Normal. Welcome.