Recording review - Colin Stetson and Sarah Neufeld, Never Were the Way She Was (2015)

Violin and saxophone circle like perfectly paired dancers

^4.25/5.0

Surrounded by inorganic synthesizer tones, it's good to be reminded of not just analog sounds, but traditional instruments as well. Woodwind music is rooted in the raw physicality of breath. Strings, on the other hand, can sing with the expressiveness of an unchained voice that transcends mere respiration and can also slant into otherworldly realms. On Never Were the Way She Was saxophonist Colin Stetson and violinist Sarah Neufeld blend their unique sonic fingerprints to find a magic in that meld that yields a yin-yang of cooperation and conflict. Of course, they've had plenty of time to learn each other’s style, working together in Arcade Fire and Bell Orchestre. This album of duets finds them gracefully connecting like perfectly matched dancers; the interplay sounds effortless, but closer attention reveals the complexity.

While Stetson’s side work is always impressive, his solo trilogy series, New History Warfare shows off his development as a master of his instruments. In particular, he’s learned how to harness a variety of techniques -- growls, vocalizations, and creative recording tricks -- to create stunning soundscapes. Over the course of these albums, he’s evolved his vocabulary and expanded the boundaries of the instrument. In his hands, the sax moves beyond breathy riffs and warps into experimental electronic tones and dark rumblings.

Neufeld is perhaps less inclined to play at the outside edges that Stetson enjoys, but her own solo work, 2013’s Hero Brother, demonstrates her stylistic and melodic range. She has a good sense of dynamics and how to build just the right mood. Her playing has a fluidity that accommodates sudden shifts from anxious obsession to angelic soaring, from ethereal reverie to passionate engagement.

Never Were the Way She Was feels like a continuation of Stetson’s recent work, but Neufeld pushes him into dialog with melodic parts that accentuate his ideas even as they offer a counterpoint. As in any conversation, the lead can shift from one speaker to another, and Neufeld and Stetson are comfortable circling one another in this way. But the real treat comes in those rare moments when their playing doesn’t change roles overtly, but the context shifts and, like figure and ground reversing in an optical illusion, suddenly the supporting instrument is standing at center stage. “In the Vespers” is a fine example of this. Neufeld’s staccato violin sets up Stetson’s rolling minimalist line as the focus. While the arpeggiated riff seethes with impatience and ambition, the violin maintains order as it relentlessly slices out its measured pace. In a subtle move, Neufeld modulates the tonal base and Stetson follows, acquiescing the lead to her. The tension builds and Stetson adds an anguished vocalization to his part and the tune becomes a battle of wills. Neufeld disengages and the sax twists in on itself. As the busy notes percolate, the violin returns with longer tones that calm the track down into resolution. Stetson is adept at creating that sense of roiling conflict, so Neufeld’s sense of harmony, both on violin and wordless vocals, provides a nice counterbalance.

Following the model of Stetson’s New History Warfare albums, this collaboration was recorded live, with no studio overdubs. While I’m sure the pieces were largely worked out, these songs have an immediacy that heightens their impact. Thus the anticipation and nervous excitement of “The Sun Roars into View” is visceral as it builds from predawn calm and a rising glow to a fast-motion blur once the day is truly underway. It’s a good start, but my favorite track is the spooky “With the Dark Hug of Time”. It starts off with rattling bass notes and sweeping strings, emphasizing the contrast between the instruments. The bass takes over and builds a plodding rhythm, part elephant and part lurching Frankenstein’s Monster. Stetson’s sax vocalizations creep in, as if the monster were moaning its lament. All the while, Neufeld contributes to the tension with fearful sawing tones. It finally reaches a shimmering pause as the beat drops away. The night calms, fading down to a low rumble and Neufeld’s cooing vocals, both wrapped in a rough distortion that adds a sweet surreal quality.

It’s so nice to hear Neufeld and Stetson circle and build on one another. Never Were the Way She Was is certainly less structured than what they do with Arcade Fire, but this collaboration reflects wild internal worlds without sliding into self-indulgence. And the sound? It's probably like nothing else you've been listening to lately.

Concert review - Beats Antique with Blockhead and Itchy-O Marching Band

11 April 2014 (Fillmore Auditorium, Denver CO)

A Thousand Faces and a thousand stories. Beats Antique took to Kickstarter last year to raise money, not for their planned album, A Thousand Faces, but to create a world class show to tour their new album. Showmanship has always been key for this exotic electronic group. While their music is heavily produced and full of intriguing layers of sound from around the world, their shows are rituals of tribal dance fusion driven by insistent rhythms and spectacle.

Choreographer and belly dancer Zoe Jakes deserves a lot of the credit for shaping the band’s stage presence. When I first saw the group in 2011, I was entranced by her dancing, which not only provided a context for the tunes, but also inspired the audience to abandon themselves to the physicality of the music. Jakes and her partners, David Satori and Sidecar Tommy Cappel, balanced at a nexus of rave, cultural outreach and ritual. The Fillmore was several times larger than that 2011 concert venue, and the new show took full advantage, delivering an overwhelming spectacle that rivaled any big pop band production. The Kickstarter money was well-spent on video projection technology from Obscura Digital, top-notch lighting and, of course, alluring costumes and choreography.

Opening acts: Itchy-O Marching Band, Blockhead

The opening acts each found their own contact points with the Beats Antique experience. Denver’s Itchy-O Marching Band paraded around the outside of the venue with their chaotic electro-rhythmic blare before making their entrance through the main doors. Their bright and blinking uniforms couldn’t offset the dark menace of their masked faces.

In contrast, producer/DJ Blockhead (Tony Simon) didn’t try to compete visually. Instead, he kicked off his set with a spooky riff full of intensely layered percussion. The sound of spirits in the shadows and foreign scales suited Beats Antique’s sonic palette, but he went on to evolve long-form pieces, moving through dance, sexy R&B and jazz before returning to the stranger tones he started with. His sample selections—a well-placed and mutated bit of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” a jazzy take on “Sunny” against a moody soul groove—sprinkled tasty little surprises throughout his set.

Beats Antique

Before Beats Antique began their show, their stage was filled with boxy blocks that looked like a collection of white birdhouse blanks. Along with the backing scrim, these would become screens for the video projection. Cappel’s drum kit was behind and above one line of blocks while Satori’s collection of instruments was set behind the other. As the music started, these boxes became a small village with a large gnarled tree in the town square. The effect was strong, with Cappel and Satori embedded within the scene. The music was a blend of live instrumentation and pre-recorded parts. So, in addition to his other gear, Satori played producer, mixing parts into the song. As the tune built up energy, the projection turned psychedelic, flashing swirls of high contrast op-art over the stage, but still preserving the tree as a centerpiece.

The imagery shifted for each song, becoming a Southeast Asian temple for Jakes’ first dance. Later, we’d appreciate the versatility of the set up as it transitioned through a mind-blowing collection of tableaux: retro Asian pen-and-ink animations, a game show set, a giant snake’s lair and a video game battlefield among others. The set designers did a fantastic job of delivering this variety without letting the technology become the focus. It was easy to forget the initial blocky appearance and become immersed in the show. Similarly, the set and live instrumentation distracted from the technical aspects of the backing tracks.


Jakes’ stage craft also played a strong part. Her mesmerizing movements created a focal point and storyline for the songs to hang on. Aside from belly dancing and modern interpretive dance, she used elements of Kabuki, Balinese dance and other cultural traditions. She was stylized and theatrical, but still drew on an earthy physicality. One of the strongest moments came during “Viper’s Den.” Her costume simulated snakeskin with a slinky sheath and cobra-like headpiece. After writhing around in sinuous seduction, she melted back into the set and another dancer enveloped her from behind, hiding her from view. Suddenly, the pair unfolded and revealed Jakes’ costume change. Her dress and headpiece were gone, and the two were decked out as fan dancers. Where her earlier expression had been wicked and intense, now she played the tease with broad bawdiness.

Even the campier tunes from A Thousand Faces played well. During the game show pastiche “Doors of Destiny,” a volunteer took his chances picking one of three doors to receive either “Eternal damnation, everlasting life or unlimited bandwidth and one year’s free technical support.” Of course, that didn’t go well, and he was attacked by a giant inflatable demon during the song’s glitch-step grinding climax. Later, Beats Antique performed their song “Beelzebub” with a pre-recorded Claymation by Les Claypool.

The overwhelming spectacle, exotic music and visceral bass punch contributed to the rave atmosphere. Dozens of Zoe acolytes danced their own steps, and every third person wore some kind of crazy outfit. The audience often competes with the stage at this kind of show, but glow sticks and LED displays merely added ambiance.

More photos on my Flickr.

Recording review - Matt Stevens, Lucid (2014)

Musical tiles coalesce into a more complicated mosaic

Matt Stevens’ latest solo sketchbook borrows cubist techniques to deconstruct his musical aesthetic and juxtapose all of the perspectives into a single work. Any given point has its locus of continuity and the songs flow into one another in a meaningful way, but on first impression, the project as a whole seems scattershot as it slides from driving post-rock through acoustic art rock to jazzy interludes. But it turns out that Lucid is well-titled, after all. Step back and take a look at the album in toto and you'll see that Stevens draws on the looped guitar experiments of his early work and the more intense exploration of his recent work with The Fierce and the Dead to assert himself. Like Walt Whitman, he is large, he contains multitudes. And although he lets all of these musical personas loose, he’s also invited a host of talented players to join Any given angle or track provides a different window on Stevens’ development as a player.

My first introduction to Stevens was his 2010 solo album Ghost (review), with its wonderfully evocative acoustic guitar loops and jazzy touches. Some of the new tunes call back to Ghost’s sound, like the Beatlesque jazz of “KEA” or the Latin-tinged post-rock of “The Other Side”, which is reminiscent of Ghost’s “Burnt Out Car”. At the same time, Stevens’ heavier tone with The Fierce and the Dead is also well represented, especially on standout tracks like “Unsettled”. Bandmate Stuart Marshall provides the phenomenal drum work that locks the tune down with taut rhythms and tight flourishes. Marshall’s cage barely holds the flailing tantrum of guitar in check. That discipline supports the raw chaotic expression, creating a dynamo of energy that sounds like some kind of head-banging King Crimson mutant. Speaking of Crimson, drummer Pat Mastelotto lends his solid, open-fill drumming to the angular guitar exercise of “The Ascent”. The progression is torn from the Robert Fripp handbook, but the metallic guitar borrows more from players like Steve Vai. Stevens channels a vein of pure emotion and vents out against the mathematical structure of the piece.

That passion and flair set up the sharp transition to my favorite track on Lucid, “Coulrophobia”. “The Ascent” drops away, leaving a vacuum. Tentative, moody notes drip softly into a starlit pool, like Porcupine Tree covering “Echoes” by Pink Floyd. A nervous shimmer of tension lurks at the edges, but never quite comes into focus. Like a dream, there is no control as the tune slowly unfolds at a calculated pace. The nervous energy can’t shake the calm lack of volition and it builds towards a thin trickle of terror. The piece summons more of a sense of sleep paralysis than scary clowns for me, but the savory element of fear certainly comes through. Unfortunately, the song is over all too quickly, moving on to the moody drive of the title track.

In fact, with the exception of the epic piece, “The Bridge”, which runs almost 12 minutes, most of these songs are shorter vignettes. This is what gives Lucid its sketchbook feel, but this, too, is part of Stevens' artistic sense. Where many of his post-rock peers drag out their songs into long-running feasts, he prefers to make instrumental tapas, which showcase a idea with clarity and then set up the next exciting flavor. Lucid collects all of these into strange collection of contrasts and surprises, but the net result is a great musical meal.

Recording review - Kelli Scarr, Dangling Teeth (2012)

Kelli Scarr is still hauntingly beautiful as she creates her own version of country

Sophomore albums are the bane of the recording industry. Band or performers spend years developing their sound and then use up their best material on their debut album. Then they're rushed into the studio to follow up. If their second effort doesn't click, the industry spits them out. There are plenty of performers who overcome, often with the help of the industry, but they're the lucky ones. The indie scene is a little kinder because there's less money at stake, but sophomore albums are often a muddle that doesn't deliver on the freshman hype.

Kelli Scarr defies that by taking the haunting indie folk sound she showcased in Piece (review) and migrating west. On its surface, Dangling Teeth is largely a country album with folk and rock moments. But Scarr's sparse, hand-joined arrangements, her retro-soaked, echoed voice, and her instinctive feel for late night solitude permeate the album. The pedal steel textures and heavier rhythms expand her style and her underlying strengths bloom into fuller expression.

In the stronger country moments, Scarr's voice evokes Emmy Lou Harris while the rest of the album reminds me of the Cowboy Junkies. But Kelli Scarr is no Margo Timmins wannabe. Instead, it's her sense of pacing that draws the comparison -- subtle timing that can suggest weariness, surrender, or languor depending on the context.

Take the moody sound of It Ain't Me. Tremolo guitar chords, echoed vocals, and a bluesy, single coil guitar line shimmer together in a lazy groove. Before Scarr starts singing, the feeling is introspective, but the lyrics quickly shift the song into a sense of checked anger and frustration. The chorus takes that inward energy and turns it towards its deserving target. Scarr's voice picks up some of Tori Amos' mocking tone in the second verse. The key, though, is the bridge that takes over the last third of the song. It channels an undercurrent of dark rage. Noisy, chaotic energy builds into a thunderhead, raising the question of whether the darkness will conquer.

The last track, I'll Always Wait, counters that mood. The atmospheric intro fades in and falls into a dreamy groove with a hesitant beat. Scarr's expressive voice lazily toys with the rhythm:

Lost days away
I wait and wait
Forgetting not
I found a place

She gives the song room to build. The chorus blooms into a new set of changes:

Please don't ever change
Oh, I am here and I will stay the same
Please don't ever change
Cause I will always wait...
Oh, I will wait for you

I love the way her soulful voice soars on that first "wait" with a hint of Great Gig In The Sky. The sweet, tasteful solo sets up the song's evolution, laying the groundwork for a shift from Pink Floyd's Breathe to Neil Young's Down By The River. The repetition of the chorus lyrics is becomes a desperate prayer.

Neither of those songs fall into the country feel that Scarr explores in the rest of the album. The first several tracks cover this well, from the country rock twang of You Could Be So Great to the traditional country shuffle of Our Joy. I especially enjoy the steel guitar drenched folk of Dangling Teeth, where the simple parts come together to create a sparse completeness. This reminds me of some of My Morning Jacket's slower material, especially how the rhythm guitar and steel offset each other.

Dangling Teeth is a worthy second album. As much as I enjoyed Piece, Kelli Scarr's musical development shows through. With genuine country sounds, she still keeps her essential style.

Recording review - Anathema, Weather Systems (2012)

Reinvention or reincarnation takes Anathema into passionate expressiveness

Anathema continues to move away from their Gothic metal roots. Their last album, We're Here Because We're Here (review) followed producer Steven Wilson into post rock grandeur. Weather Systems hints at a progressive aesthetic, but producer Christer-André Cederberg led Anathema into a more lush, expressive rock space.

The tracks on Weather Systems follow a couple of organizing principals. The opening and closing songs both seem to deal with death and loss. In Untouchable Part 1, the serene vocals hover above a busy, frantic mesh of music. "And my love will never die / And my feelings will always shine." But before long, the vocals are caught in the tension, defensively declaring:

I never betrayed your trust
I never betrayed your faith
I'll never forsake your heart
I'll never forget your face
There's a feeling that I can't describe
There's a reason that I cannot hide
To never see the light that's so bright
The light that shines behind your eyes.

This reflects the spoken near death experience narrative of Internal Landscapes. Where Untouchable is stressed, this track is calm:

I did not have an out of body experience. I did not see my body or anyone about. I just immediately went into this beautiful bright light. It's difficult to describe. As a matter of fact, it's impossible to describe. Verbally, it cannot be expressed. It's something this becomes you and you become it. I could say that I was peace and I was love. I was the brightness; it was part of me.

Then Lee Douglas' vocal comes in: Goodbye, my friends. The ambient backing music takes on a heavenly, peaceful tone with a simple beat and simple guitar. The soul of the song remains calm, even as it grows more anthemic.

These themes around soulful connection, love, and moving on imbues Weather System with a satisfying emotional depth.

The other organizing principle is tied to the mini-concept album embedded within Weather Systems. The Gathering of the Clouds leads into Lightning and so on. More like movements of a larger work, there are melodic touchstones that turn up repeatedly. Fans of We're Here will be most satisfied with The Storm Before the Calm, which sets up a delicious tension. The post-rock crunch still allows for some rich dynamics. The louder sections build up to an onslaught of tension and grinding electronic sound over the steady beat. After that climax, the track fades down to a calming interlude that recalls Renaissance before building into a stately procession with flecks of Wish You Were Here-era Pink Floyd.

While Anathema's shift in sound is tied to Cederberg's production, the passion and expressiveness on Weather Systems is the band's own.