Recording review - Chui Wan, Chui Wan (2015)

Fringe music from the Middle Kingdom

^3.75/5.0

From skewed savants like Roky Erickson and Syd Barrett to modern mystics like Jim James and Wayne Coyne, psychedelic artists thrive out in the borderlands where the rules are flexibly vague and no one expects explanations. Beijing's Chui Wan has set up their own camp out in the fringes and, listening to their latest self-titled release, they've been raiding the ruins and scavenging from a host of influences to create their unique blend of experimental, new wave neo-psychedelia. Call it crypto-psych, where bits of avant garde Pere Ubu coexist with the Velvet Underground and Beatlesque musing drifts past Gothic new wave moodiness. Like steampunk fashion, it’s intriguing to encounter familiar things in unusual settings, but this album digs deeper than mere aesthetics. Psychedelic music is often invested in capturing a mood and Chui Wan’s music seems to reflect the uneasiness of change in their native country.

At its most positive, that nervous energy can be tied to opportunity and the most upbeat track, “Vision”, seems intent on grasping the chance even as it continually mutates and slips away. The tight rhythm and jungle beat drums are fixtures, along with the guitar pushing simple melodies to the forefront, but the song evolves in several directions. Initially, despite the guitar, it has an electronic feel that reminds me of the programmed rhythm on the.Clash’s "Overpowered By Funk". By the time the vocals come in, the tone has shifted into a Bauhaus cum Krautrock groove. Chameleon-like, the focal riffs come and go in waves, until the piece transcends the relentless reinvention to reveal that the true answer can be found in the hypnotically syncopated drum jam. It seems to say that, faced with constant change, the best thing to do is move with it. It would be easy to imagine a 20 minute extended version rattling the walls in a dark, trippy basement club, but the four minutes on Chui Wan is merely a tease.

After this restless drive of “Vision”, the band shifts gears for “On the Other Ocean”. If the former was strongly directed, the latter offers fun house reflections of a hallucinogenic expedition. The jangling new age start suggests a spacy milieu somewhere between Star Trek and music from the “Hearts of Space”. Once the vocals come in, the context becomes more overtly psychedelic but retains the unanchored feel. Chiming melodic harmonies suggest a more traditional Chinese influence, but the detuned and watery, off-kilter vibe adds a spacious decadence. If this is the start of a journey, it’s hard to tell what it might be in search of. Ultimately, the track slips into an even looser jazz interlude before faltering and melting into a puddle. That ending isn't a disappointment, though. Rather, it’s just a natural waking from the dream.

The rest of the tracks on Chui Wan find still stranger worlds to visit, from the off-balanced Pere Ubu carnival of “Seven Chances” to the nervous new wave tension of “Only” or the Velvet Underground folk-psych pop of “Silence” (think of Nico singing, “I’ll Be Your Mirror”). The weirdest is the hot mess that closes out the album, “Beijing is Sinking”. The metal flake guitar intro gives way to an odd poppish bounce. Imagine bits of Pink Floyd's "San Tropez", John Lennon's "Number 9 Dream ", and maybe a touch of OK Go coming together in a mulligatawny stew. Some three minutes in, there’s a solo section that develops a nice meandering riff. Enjoy it while it lasts, because, all too soon, it’s overwhelmed by chaotic guitar and transitions into an extended psychedelic outro that’s longer than the initial structured interval.

But the stylistic mashups and nomadic song development are hardly detrimental to Chui Wan’s mission. Out where they play, landmarks shift -- Beijing is still sinking, after all -- and the point is to step beyond the maps.

Here's a taste from the album:

Recording review - Ought, More Than Any Other Day (2014)

Art punk intensity and choreographed primitivism

Ought was formed in the politically charged crucible of Montreal's "Maple Spring" with genetic material borrowed from David Byrne, David Thomas (Pere Ubu), and Gordon Gano (Violent Femmes). Exposed to the clashing drone of the Velvet Underground and new wave synthpop radiation, their sound solidified into a quirky, experimental space with a driving edge. More Than Any Other Day delivers their psychedelically intense art punk as a wake up call to the world.

They toss out a direct challenge with the jarring notes that open the first track, "Pleasant Heart". Those give way to clashing guitars that fill the bandwidth with contrasting splashes. Like  Byrne, Thomas, and Gano, Tim Beeler's voice defines his band's personality. Unpolished, utterly unguarded, and only loosely controlled, it quavers as he skirts the edge of melody. The initial tension remains constant as the piece evolves, and the uneasiness leaves the groove completely unsettled. The angular guitars and tripping rhythm get more involved, but the nervous vocals offer a new focal point. Eventually, the dense layering picks up enough complexity that there no hope of balance. Suddenly a chasm opens up, leaving a small void of breakdown before the linked loops are triggered all over again. It feels like a tribal rite crossed with some flavor of primal therapy as Beeler locks into repetition, "Say what and how we are." The song then staggers to a halt, leaving a reedy collection of droning keyboards, arrhythmic pings, and lazy bass tones that provide a chaotic interlude. This free jazz floating barely holds together as music and, glancing at the remaining time for the track, it's hard to guess where it might lead. Ought surprises us by bringing back the looping, rhythmic jumble from earlier, but now it's even more insistent. The chanting, "Say what and how we are," returns and is finally allowed to bring the song to a conclusion.

After that sprawling six minutes of overload, the hesitant beginning of "Today, More Than Any Other Day" feels like a respite, a gift from the band. This song is what first attracted me to this album, and it's even stronger in context. The random, detuned notes that melt and fall from the guitar provide an oasis of calm after the chaotic thrash of "Pleasant Heart". When the drag beat and diffident bass come in, they impose a loose and disjointed order that slowly coalesces into a moody, twanged groove, where the bass notes define the structure. The tempo slowly increases and Beeler dreamily repeats, "We're sinking deeper, we feel like..." The song begins to accelerate, though, and Beeler's repetition becomes unhinged as the guitar strum flails like Velvet Underground's "European Son". The song is halfway through, rest time is over, and the track finally finds its raison d'être as a manic affirmation. The flow from the initial amorphous noodling to the rapid-fire, slightly deranged title sloganeering is incredibly engaging. The track has the patience to grant ample time to the free form start, but then it carries out the culmination of its vision with a beautiful economy. Of course, the increasingly frantic pace can only lead to breakdown and the band eventually delivers on this as the song cartwheels to a stop.

The rest of the tracks on More Than Any Other Day go on to expand on these opening tunes, from the Television new wave chop of "The Weather Song" to the tamped down Talking Heads anxiety of "Around Again". The music always manages find the fulcrum point between stream of consciousness primitivism and neat choreography, while the lyrics often come from somewhere out in left field, whether it's the stark Zen koan anchoring  "Around Again" ("Why is it you can't stand in the sun, but you could stick your head into a bucket of water and breathe in deep?") or the frustrated confusion of "Gemini" ("I retain the right to have an end in sight/ I retain the right to be absolutely mystified"). The album holds together though, because they transcend their artful influences and find their own perspective. Plenty of other bands in their position fall prey to the temptations of distraction, nihilism, and stilted experimentalism, but Ought remains grounded and connected even as they deliver the unexpected.

Recording review - Chrissie Hynde, Stockholm (2014)

Vulnerability and strength, doubt and inspiration

It’s kind of fitting that the best Pretenders album of the last decade is Chrissie Hynde’s new solo album, Stockholm. That’s not a cheap shot at 2008’s Break Up the Concrete, the sole competition for that award, but where Concrete dug deep into blues, rockabilly and early rock, Stockholm largely returns to the Pretenders’ classic sound. Back in the day, Hynde and the group infused the radio with a refreshing mix of rock, new wave, and power pop. They paired her expressive voice with the tight chop of a Stratocaster to create a string of hits that could rouse rebellion, slink into a sultry mood or move hearts. Although she always emphasized that the Pretenders was not just a backing band, her singing was always ascendant over the music. While that remains the case on Stockholm, releasing this as solo album may just be an acknowledgment of the tensions between Hynde and the band. That last Pretenders album notably did not include long-time drummer Martin Chambers, although he toured with them afterwards. A solo release provides some distance from the politics and personality conflicts and, ironically, lets Hynde sink deeper into her strengths as a performer.

The best thing about Stockholm is that it proves that Hynde still has the same vocal and emotional power she had in her prime. Those early releases built on the unique ground she claimed, somewhere between Blondie’s new wave coquettishness, Joan Jett’s tough girl snarl, and Patti Smith’s poetic depth. The new album works a lot of those facets with a set of fairly short, focused tracks that get their punches in and then step aside for the next song to take a turn. The 11 tracks don’t quite make it to 38 minutes, so the time passes quickly, but most of the tunes have something worthwhile to impart.

Stockholm opens with a nod to Break Up the Concrete’s retro sound with a slow burn, Phil Spector-style ballad, “You Or No One”, but it really begins with the second song, “Dark Sunglasses”. The pensive, new wave verses take elements of early tunes like “Private Life” (Pretenders, 1980) and “My City Was Gone” (Learning to Crawl, 1984). Hynde is sharp and sarcastic, dissecting her target with clinical precision, “And you’ll remember/ How good it tasted/ Inside the ruling classes/ Wasted, behind your dark sunglasses.” The backing vocals and the R&B pop edge to the chorus remind me a little of Annie Lennox and the Eurythmics, but the layers of guitar – staccato slashes against a relentless arpeggio riff – resurrect fine memories of Hynde and Pretenders’ guitarist Robbie McIntosh in tight formation.

A couple of songs later, “Down the Wrong Way” takes the gloves off and lunges forward with a raw wrench of electric guitar. I hadn’t read the liner notes in advance, so it was particularly sweet to immediately recognize Neil Young’s distinctive playing. The warm fuzz of his Fender Deluxe and his ringing tone fit perfectly into the low-fi grind of the tune. The sound is ragged, but Hynde effortlessly slides from sneering post-punk to power pop. The opening line, “I’ve become what I criticized/ The porn queen in my deck of lies,” is an uncompromising bit of self-analysis, but her taut innuendo opens into a weary sigh of jaded experience that tempers a defiant streak of bruised yearning. This is what she does best: project a deep vulnerability that lurks behind a tough protective shell. It’s the strongest track on the album in large part because of Young’s contribution, which adds the undercurrent of desperation that drives the tune. It ends with a thick cloud of reverberations that rolls away like fading thunder or the repercussions of a string of bad decisions

While nothing else gets as down and dirty, Stockholm still has a couple more tricks to play. “In a Miracle” contrasts moody musing delivered in a lush Karen Carpenter vocal tone with a bridge that soars with hopeful highs. The see-saw between doubt and inspiration provides the album’s emotional heart, even as it ends in a question that offers no resolution.

The other standout is a dark outlier, “Tourniquet”. This is more like a theatrical tune from a musical; think Streisand or Midler, but more restrained, or perhaps an introspective Patti Smith piece. It’s a kind of opium dream, where each line or couplet could serve as a panel in a graphic novel, and, fittingly, the instrumentation is completely different, with classical guitar, music box chimes and a faint whistle accompaniment. Hynde’s voice is captivated by obsession and she infuses the two and a half minutes with a rich web of darkness and codependent themes. That tourniquet could be bandage or bondage – both are implied. She takes a big chance by including this song; it’s stark and revealing in a unique way. That risk almost pays off. Unfortunately, the hypnotic power is sabotaged by the track order. If it had been followed by “Adding the Blue”, the lazy beat and heartfelt poetic lyrics would have melded smoothly to close the album. Instead, Hynde splits the two with “Sweet Nuthin’”, which breaks the mood like a splash of cold water and comes across as more lightweight than it deserves.

That’s not a fatal error; it’s easy enough to swap “Tourniquet” and “Sweet Nuthin’” in the play order and salvage the moment. Once that distraction is removed, Stockholm accomplishes its purpose and shows off Hynde’s skills as a timeless performer.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

History lesson: Elvis Costello, Brutal Youth (1994)

A revisit reveals the depths

Is older really wiser? By 1994, the angry, bitter young man of My Aim Is True, Next Year’s Model, and Armed Forces had long vented most of his vitriol. The year before, Elvis Costello had dabbled in chamber music on The Juliet Letters, which suited his eclectic nature, but, like many other fans, I still hoped that 1994′s Brutal Youth would break a string of less interesting releases. “13 Steps Lead Down” and “20% Amnesia” provided some joy, but I was still disappointed. It would have been foolish to expect him to retrace old ground, but it seemed more like he was slowing down and getting too old to summon the angry energy of those early albums. While I never purged it from my collection, I haven’t really listened to it in the 20 years since then. But coming back and giving it a fresh listen, I’m struck by how strong an album it is. Some of that perspective comes with my own growth, but it’s clear now that Costello was well on his way to developing an adult voice that blended his acid words and attitude with his strong ear for pop harmony and taut arrangements. He had already outgrown most of the behavioral excesses of his youth and this album shows him internalizing musical lessons from pop masters like Burt Bacharach, the Beatles, and Harry Nilsson. If he’s now recognized as a masterful writer and sought-after collaborator, this album plays a strong role in building that reputation.

Take “You Tripped at Every Step”, which initially comes across as a bit too mannered with its single-line chorus and simple harmonies. Costello gently croons over the polished pop surface, straining his vocal range at the edges, but the tune is perfectly balanced. Steve Nieve leads into the song with a striking piano intro, but then drops back to let Bruce Thomas’ bass take control. Nieve then alternates between tasteful organ fills and light piano accompaniment. His touch is delicate, letting the bass and drums provide most of the support for Costello’s vocal. For such a sparse arrangement, the track is remarkably full, largely due to the rich harmonic progression, especially the soaring, Beatlesque bridge. With each perfectly timed hand-off, it’s a treat to hear the Attractions together again, even if they’re playing pop rather than new wave.

But my stronger appreciation is not just due to my own maturity; pop music itself has grown up and caught up to Costello’s sensibility. While there are still plenty of teen idols making easily dismissed pop fluff, there’s been a renaissance of sharply focused pop writers since then, from Adam Schlesinger (Fountains of Wayne) and Jill Sobule to Mel Krahmer (Sirsy) and Mark Mulcahy. Costello’s flair on Brutal Youth didn’t likely inspire this aesthetic, but that context does make it easier to appreciate what he and producer Mitchell Froom accomplished. Each tune on the album receives a similar treatment. They present a placid pop veneer for accessibility, but the surface masks a musicality inspired by the kind of smart writing that Bacharach and Hal David effortlessly encoded in their seminal work of the 1970s. Where Costello had earlier copied his idols to create pastiches like “Baby Plays Around” (Spike, 1989), now his understanding is more intuitive and original. He matches his icons’ craftsmanship to his own trademark style – breathless delivery, dense word work and a strong appreciation for his own cleverness and oblique references – and the combination connects to the desperation and audacity of his first three albums while still showing his development as a writer. That’s the beauty of this album: sneers and snarls may be his stock in trade, but the song arrangements show that he’s sweated over the delicate shading of the background figures, as much in service to his own sense of musical perfection as for our benefit.

Those first impression songs – the thrashy “13 Steps Lead Down” and the theatrical “20% Amnesia”, along with the restrained contempt of “Sulky Girl” – are still favorites, if only for reasons of continuity, but they reveal the same artistic strength. Some of their appeal is certainly tied to hearing the Attractions back in classic form, as well as appreciating lines that allude to a more intriguing backstory like, “When nobody knows/ She puts on secret clothes / And lies in the meadow with her hands tied behind her back.” But Costello’s compositions are compelling and, lacking the sonic clichés of blues or classic rock, listeners are pulled in to the songs by novelty to be satisfied by the depth.

(This appreciation first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Tokyo Police Club, Forcefield (2014)

Valiant quest for pop perfection loses its way

The perfect pop song sinks into your brain and takes up permanent residence. It’s predictable enough that you already half know it before you’ve heard it the first time, but there’s always a little novel twist that catches your ear on the hundredth listen. The mainstream music industry pumps out their attempts on a regular basis, but it’s a powerful obsession that can even suck in the indiest of hipsters. Tokyo Police Club has never sneered at pop, but with their latest album, Forcefield, they’ve abandoned irony completely to make their own grab for the golden ring.

To give full credit, it’s a valiant effort. Their first single, “Hot Tonight”, is jaunty and cheery, full of shimmery guitar and steady bass. The chorus hook digs in so deep that you can easily picture making eye contact with strangers and bonding as you sing along together, “I’ll burn the house down and I’ll leave it behind/ I didn’t need the money, but the money was nice.” The fills vary from verse to verse, which makes them that much harder to ignore. If it’s not a hit this summer, it’s just because perfection is elusive and the universal ear is fickle. Still, although it reaches for that pop ideal, it falls short on technical points: the mix over-emphasizes the guitar jangle and its low-fi distortion rankles just a hair. It’s a subtle flaw, but Forcefield never does quite find the formula.

On “Through the Wire”, for example, it’s the production that sabotages the tune. The track opens with a live room ambiance – extraneous conversation and an unbalanced acoustic mix – that sounds like an amateurish demo. A mere 15 seconds into this intro, a throbbing bass synth fades in to take the song firmly into the studio. “Feel the Effort”, on the other hand sets up a clear aesthetic that has potential. The smooth keyboard tone finds a common ground between ‘70s easy listening and ‘80s synth-pop that delicately supports the heavily reverbed, soulful vocals. The retro feel is perfect; David Monks gives his rueful lyrics just the right touch of bored nonchalance, “I made a lot of bad decisions/ I feel the effect.” Then, halfway through the piece, they demonstrate one of those decisions when they cut to an incongruous solo. While the volume stays in line with the rest of the song, the guitar is clipped and washed in static. It’s good for indie credibility, but it proves a harsh segue into the more uplifting bridge that follows. While the song eventually finds its way back to the original chorus, it’s a Franken-spliced composition that closes the album on a sour note.

That’s not to say that Forcefield is full of mediocre tracks; most of the tunes show some nice variation and they’re catchy as hell. The band is adept at playing a kind of post-post-punk, cross-breeding new wave sounds with power pop hooks and pop punk drive. It’s telling that Tokyo Police Club is at their best when they break from their pop quest, with tracks like “Argentina (Parts I, II, III)” and “Gonna Be Ready.” The first is a sprawling eight and half minute song cycle that kicks off the album. The galloping pop-punk start is a rallying cry that sets up the tight, close-harmony vocals. Obliquely recounting a romantic connection that begins with worship from afar and ends in self-recrimination, the tune flows smoothly through a roller coaster ride of moods. The band pulls off some subtle tricks to drive the narrative, like using a dynamic drop to create an audible sense of distance for a flashback interlude. The regretful finish, with Monks realizing that he’s been a jerk, is a nice change from the usual flow of this kind of story. I don’t even mind that I can’t really follow his logic when he sings, “Cause if I had known that you were only here for the weekend/ Cause if I had only known what you were thinking/ I would have been so, so, so, so much nicer.”

“Gonna Be Ready” similarly satisfies without the same grand scope. The thrashy new wave intro/chorus is a splash of discordant cold water that balances the stripped down, moody verses. While it’s a great song, it’s not a pop masterpiece. Instead, it’s a sign of what the band does best and, actually, what they’ve done well before. I don’t begrudge Tokyo Police Club for embracing their pop side, but 2010’s Champ made a better case for the band’s artistic merit.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Concert review - ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, with La Femme, Silver Snakes, and Git Some

3 April 2014 (Summit Music Hall, Denver CO)

Good intentions and all of that... I wanted to make it down to Denver in time to catch all of the acts, but I ran quite late, arriving just in time to catch La Femme's extended soundcheck. I was disappointed to miss Silver Snakes and Git Some, but I wasn't alone; most of crowd showed up sometime during La Femme's frantic set..

La Femme

It seemed to take a long time for La Femme to get their monitors and mics correctly set up, but that gave us plenty of time to take in the band members and appreciate each one's unique style, from pseudo-vaquero panache to metrosexual boxer chic. Think Adam Ant, but organized by an ADHD costumer. But the random mix of looks was central to band's artistic sense of theatre: it's not a show unless it's a spectacle. It didn't matter, though, whether the band's appearance aligned because they played in such close formation.


Back in 2010, I reviewed La Femme's EP, Le Podium # 1, appreciating the way they grafted surf guitar tonality onto new wave. Over the last several years, they've honed that style, pulling in punk and synth pop influences. The blend of reverbed surf twang and synth textures -- call it noir wave -- occasionally recalled bands like The Cure, but generally La Femme was in a class all their own. The dark energy was great and, although almost all the lyrics were in French, everyone could appreciate the side trips into Krautrock trippiness and Velvet Underground psychedelic drone.


The music worked, but the band's visuals were even better. The front edge of the stage was fenced with keyboards, with only the guitarist going without. His consolation prize accessory was a wonderfully retro theremin. They engaged the audience with stylized dance moves and ironic poses. Frontman Marlon Magnée was chaotically charismatic, whether offering a campy come-ons
to the crowd or sexually assaulting his keyboard. It was crazy fun, but also a little bewildering for some in the audience. Afterwards, I heard someone asking, "What the hell was that?"


By the time their set ended in a trainwreck celebration of noise and dancing, they had played enough punk thrash to lay the groundwork for Trail of Dead’s set.

...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead

Contradictions are at the heart of what powers …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. They ambitiously create rich, concept-heavy post-rock albums that are executed with raw punk rock intensity. Their music spans from fragile, wispy psychedelic patterns to peaks of roaring chaos. But the biggest contrast is between the serious, focused tone they find in the studio and the unfiltered range of emotions they bring to the stage. This tour is all the more intriguing because it’s a brief pause before resuming work on a new album that’s scheduled for later this year. With their most recent release being 2012’s Lost Songs, they may have thought it would be hard to motivate a good turn out, so this tour reaches back to what is regarded as the band’s breakout album, Source Tags & Codes.


After La Femme's wild finale, it didn't take long for roadies to clear their equipment and power up Trail of Dead’s gear. So, after this brief break, the band came out and launched immediately into “It Was There That I Saw You”. The opening vamp passed quickly and they soared into the driving swirl of the song. The dynamics of the album version were preserved, but the band was wired and pounded through the tunes. Conrad Keely seemed to swap out guitars for almost every song and Jason Reece often traded instruments with Jamie Miller, but these transitions never slowed the flow of their performance.


Even stripped of their studio production nuances – like the ambient crowd sound and free jazz noodling at the end of “Baudelaire” – the tunes lost none of their power or presence. Trail of Dead nailed the punk foundations of the songs and made them as cathartic and moving as ever.


It was clear that the crowd was intimately familiar with Source Tags & Codes, sometimes feeling torn between singing along and surrendering to the visceral punch of the music. For all the meaning that we imbued these songs with, Keely and Reece were even more invested. They played like they were tapping into their younger selves with the hindsight of all the changes they had seen. The personnel shifts and bulkier configurations of the past seemed to melt away and this four piece group channeled the epic scope of that earlier incarnation. Like guitarist/drummer Miller, bass player Autry Fulbright II has only been with Trail of Dead for three years, but his charismatic presence was a strong part of the stage chemistry. Both men seemed just as committed to these songs as Keely and Reece.


All too soon, Keely marked the end of the series, noting “This is the last song,” and then he sighed, “It’s a short album.” The wistful sound of “Source Tags & Codes” was perfectly appropriate and it was even shorter without the string coda of the album version. As the final notes faded, the audience seemed drained for a moment before the band kicked into “Mistakes & Regrets” from 1999’s Madonna. It captured the retrospective mood in the wake of Source Tags & Codes and then dismissed it.


The crowd settled in as Trail of Dead wandered through another five songs from their back catalog, with particularly strong performances on “Catatonic” (Lost Songs) and “Would You Smile Again” (Worlds Apart, 2005). For this latter tune, Reece reached into the crowd, giving people a chance to sing along and participate in the ritual. After wrapping up the main set, they came back out for a single encore, a version of “Richter Scale Madness” from the band’s first album. The nihilistic flail of the tune energized us all for the late night ride home.

More photos on my Flickr.

Concert review - Skyfox, with Discount Cinema, The A-OKs, and The Brixton Guns

27 November 2013 (Marquis Theatre, Denver CO)

What am I thankful for?

Bands that play small shows and still rock their guts out
To crowds of their friends who love them and must shout
Drummers that pound as the guitar tone sings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

This was a pre-Thanksgiving show that offered a strong mix of local acts. Two pop-punk focused bands bookended the night with a couple of wildcards tossed in the middle.

The Brixton Guns

Naming a band after a Clash song sets a high bar that demands an over the top performance. Fueled by a raw, unpolished stage presence, the band's sound borrowed more from Green Day than their namesake inspiration. The lead singer, Cody Brubaker, coiled up behind the mic like he was ready to take on the whole bar. The second guitarist moved around a bit as well, but channeled most of his focus into his playing.


The instrumental line up was unconventional: two guitar, drums, and a keyboard providing some bass and most of the leads. They played well enough, but their presentation has a ways to go to catch up with the other acts on the bill. In particular, I didn't notice the keyboard player interact with the rest of the band, much less the audience. He partially made up for it with some solid playing, especially on one poppy, new wave tune ("Dance"?) where he locked in synch with the guitar for a tight, twinned section.


The band's original songs were strong and Brubaker did a good job of selling them. That said, their cover of Social Distortion's "Far Behind" got the biggest crowd response during the set.

The A-OKs

As a hardcore ska punk fan, I was primed for The A-OKs before they even started. Moments after the group packed the stage and kicked into the first song, all those expectations were satisfied. Solid horn section? Check. High energy beats and a staccato bassline? Check? Guitar nailing the chank but capable of thrashy leads? Check. Charismatic frontman who could harness the rambunctious energy of his band and magnify it into a non-stop spectacle? Check and double check!


That energy is the key to ska punk. It's an alchemical transformation of Brownian motion on stage into a free-for-all party in the crowd. The musicians caromed off one another, trading grins and knowing looks. When the horns periodically dropped out, they never stood idle; they flailed and bounced along to the beat. The audience fed off this excitement and began to wake up. Lead singer Mark Swan had no problem helping the process along. Early in the set, he leaped into the crowd to jump-start a skanking mosh pit while the band ground into a heavy punk groove.


All of the players were expressive, making every moment more of a show, but Swan and Mark Malpezzi were the clown princes. When he wasn't blowing sax, Malpezzi roamed the stage, taunting and teasing his bandmates or mouthing along with the lyrics. Swan played a host of characters. One song would have him raging against the world and the next would evoke a bemused goofiness.


The style also supports a good mix of anger and sarcastic wit. The A-OKs' songs did a great job of pulling in everything from sucker-punch metal leads and cathartic punk flail to tight horn riffs and smooth vocal harmonies. Individual tunes like "Brain Bucket" effectively flipped from pop-punk sneer to chop beats and horn fills and back. This was a rock solid performance that would be very hard to follow up.

Discount Cinema

Fortunately, Discount Cinema made a strong visual impact as soon as they hit the stage. Each musician expressed their own persona, from Kevin Dallas' anarcho-punk to Ian Gray's feral night-feeder. Bass player Gray was especially focused, never breaking character. The band matched their striking look with well-orchestrated songs and a theatrical performance. Lead singer/keyboardist Jordan Niteman comfortably filled the role of front man for the band, spending as much time interacting with the audience as he did behind the keys.\

The band's hard, heavy edge had the Gothic undertones to match their artful appearance, but it was hard to pigeonhole their sound. The keys added a post-punk/synth-pop vibe, but there was a fair amount of metal shred and punk slash in the mix as well. Drummer Steve Zimmerman provided the thunder to Dallas' guitar lightning, but the songs magnified their punch with adroitly handled dynamic drops.


Discount Cinema largely relied on Niteman to connect with the crowd along with their flash appearance. They finally broke that pattern when Dallas took the mic to make a few sincere remarks. His theme of self-acceptance resonated with the audience, although it provided an interesting introduction for the band's next song, a cover of Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball". Ironic punk covers of pop music are fairly common, but the band tapped into the roiling emotion of the lyrics and let it vent.


The band finished on their song, "Dreamcatcher", packed with insistent new wave shadows.The ominous bridge built up the tension, but the catchy chorus closed out the tune, transforming it into an ear worm that lingered well after they left the stage.

Skyfox

Skyfox wrapped up the evening out with a strong set that showcased bandleader Johnny Hill's cocky persona. He and bass player Matt Lase provided the stage patter that created a relaxed impression while it shaped the flow of songs. They kicked off their show with a big, pre-recorded entrance. At first, it seemed self-indulgent, but they quickly brought enough humor to reveal the irony. A staged ending/encore closed the show in a similar manner.


Compared to Discount Cinema, Skyfox had a much more natural presence, but they worked the space just as aggressively. Guitarist Mike Rich migrated from one side to the other to involve the whole front line of the stage and Hill struck his own set of guitar god poses. Their pop-punk tunes were tight and clever, reminding me more of Bowling For Soup than Green Day even though Hill's voice is closer to Billie Joe Armstrong's. Songs like "Counter Counter Culture" managed to cram in social commentary, self-deprecating irony, and hard-driving guitars.


Even though most their songs fell into my favorite "snotty boys with guitars" sweet spot, they took one detour for a moving song about Hill's father's death, called "Our Last Breath". Arranged for two acoustic guitars and pre-recorded strings, it provided a sweet, sentimental moment. Where the rest of the set built up the band as glib and a bit arrogant, this risky but powerful tune showed Skyfox's wider emotional range.



More photos on my Flickr.

Recording review - Elvis Costello and the Roots, Wise Up Ghost (2013)

Don't fear the remixer: a solid collaboration of spirit and flesh

Who exactly is the Ghost on this project? Both Elvis Costello and the Roots have done their own background fades while collaborating with other artists and styles, but neither side hides their light on Wise Up Ghost. Instead, the album resurrects a collection of specters from Costello’s songbook, recasting lyrics and melodic references in an updated setting. Sometimes this teases out new meanings but for the most part, it just shows how relevant his words remain. This concept, though, is worrying on the surface. None of Costello’s fans want to think of him tossing integrity to the wind, finding a young group of hipsters to harness and then rearranging old songs in a desperate plea for relevance. They already know that he’s not a Frank Zappa, constantly stealing from himself to create a web of contextual references, so there’s been some concern about his creative direction on this project.

But none of that distress is justified. Instead, the album captures the best elements of its collaborators. The Roots’ deep dedication to a centering groove is honored across all these songs. Although their MC, Black Thought, is not present, ?uestlove’s steady syncopation and the band’s sparse arrangements create a hip hop vibe that is designed to support and exhibit the vocals. Rather than trying to play rapper, Costello steps in and takes advantage of the space, letting his phrases wander across the beat the way he always has, whether the genre of the moment is new wave or country. Furthermore, Wise Up Ghost has a dystopian tension running through it and a yin-yang balance of bitter and sweet lyrical themes that place it squarely in the median of Costello’s discography, even if the production and music favors the Roots’ aesthetic approach.

It turns out that this isn't Costello’s attempt to redefine himself. Rather, the album arose from impromptu jams when he performed with the Roots on “Late Night with Jimmy Fallon”. During their early meetings, bandleader ?uestlove asked Costello if he’d be interested in “remixing” some of his older songs. This led to new versions of “High Fidelity” from Get Happy (1980) and “(I Don’t Want To Go To) Chelsea” (This Year’s Model, 1978). Based on those successes, the two sides started thinking about working together on a larger project and this remixing approach must have seemed a natural starting point.

The reworking leads to some strong mood changes for the material. “Stick Out Your TONGUE” stretches out Punch The Clock’s “Pills and Soap” like taffy and jettisons its scathing urgency for weary cynicism. Similarly, “She’s Pulling Out The Pin”, an extra track on 2004’s The Delivery Man, becomes “(She Might Be A) GRENADE” and transforms from a snapshot moment of personal desperation to a CSI-style incident analysis, encouraging a more literal reading of the lines.

The stand out example, though, is “WAKE Me Up”, which appropriates lyrics from two different songs. The spare funk groove is bruised and brooding, with the dark imagery from “Bedlam” (The Delivery Man) perfectly balanced by a chanted refrain of, “Wake me up, wake me up…/ With either a slap or a kiss,” from the title track of River In Reverse (2006). Costello’s lyrics and trademark vocal tone is complemented by the Roots’ rhythmic treatment.

As intriguing as it is to play spot-the-reference, Wise Up Ghost offers all new material, too. The album opens with “Walk Us UPTOWN”, which is a vibrant sign of the group‘s collaborative mindset. The Roots lead off with a noise funk intro that sets up a 2Tone ska groove. The lyrics have a repetitive power, driven by Costello’s sneer. Lines like, “Will you wash away our sins/ In the cross-fire and cross-currents/ As you uncross your fingers/ And take out some insurance,” demonstrate how his phrasing naturally reflects the rhythmic complexity of a rap to fit with the Roots’ backing. The modern production style emphasizes the beat while the band references Costello’s past use of ska, like in “Watching The Detectives” (My Aim Is True, 1977). Horn stabs, guitar chank and reverberating echoes and fills offer plenty of interesting detail without over-crowding the track.

In addition to “Walk Us UPTOWN”, Wise Up Ghost often alludes to Costello’s musical past, but his wide range of styles and influences means that the songs have no problem finding unique angles. “TRIPWIRE” blatantly steals much of its melody from “Satellite” (Spike, 1989), but the Burt Bacharach style ballad features new veiled lyrics that make a plea for tolerance. Another track, “SUGAR Won’t Work”, blends band approaches, with a chorus that falls in line with Costello’s earlier work interpreting R&B and verses that could have been lifted from a Charlie Hunter jazz-funk session. The album closes out on a soft piano ballad, “If I Could Believe”. After the darkness and misanthropy of many of the preceding tracks, Costello’s vulnerable delivery is a poignant ending.

Supported by the apparitions of his creative history, Costello dominates Wise Up Ghost, but the Roots played a strong role in summoning these spirits. The album has a vitality that reflects a good artistic partnership, where risks were taken and everyone was challenged. Fans will find plenty of what they love about Costello or the Roots, along with new facets to enjoy.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Wire Faces, King Cataract (2013)

Richly textured, drum-driven post-punk

It's been a year since I reviewed Wire Faces' live show. Their new album, King Cataract largely lives up to the high bar they set opening for El Ten Eleven last February. The release is overshadowed a bit by material loss: their equipment was stolen over the holidays from their rehearsal room. The band had just launched a Kickstarter campaign to pay for mixing and duplication of the new CD, but this left them looking for even more help from their fans. The original goal was $5000 which they overshot by almost $2K. That can buy some new gear but still leaves them hurting.

Listening to King Cataract is like slipping back in time and across a dimension or two. Their universe is anchored in the '80s. But unlike our world, post-punk dominated and evolved into a wild, technically proficient musical force. On the surface, Wire Faces' riff-driven songs evoke bands like The Fixx, Wire, and early Police, but the trio's music is more restless and complex.

Savant drummer Shane Zweygardt pushes the band, integrating a constantly shifting set of fills and rarely settling for a simple beat. The rest of the band integrates with his rhythms, creating a tight, textured whole. "Your Blue Lips" leads off with a a frosty, open-phrased guitar riff countered by the bass' steady throb. The drums bridge the two, aligning splashes of cymbals to fit the guitar and back beats to mesh with the bass line. When the verses opens up, the bass and guitar shift into balance while the drum syncopation add an energy to contrast the singing. The vocals are coated in reverb and detachment, adding to the new wave vibe.

Zweygardt pulls double duty in the band, somehow covering lead vocals while he tosses off his impressive drum parts. Unfortunately, his voice isn't as strong as his playing. His unpolished singing favors simple phrasing and small melodic hops, but is serviceable for the style. Between the production and his tone, it can be hard to pick his words out of the mix. "Endless Gala" captures his best vocal performance. The staccato beat and driving bass at the start of the track suggest Doug Feiger and the Knack, but the song quickly moves beyond power pop with Ian Haygood's guitar adding nuance and flavor to the arrangement. Choppy riffs alternate with splashes of chords, but the simple repeated phrases of the short lead resonate and ring.

I like how the band can shift from the high-pressure tension of"Happiest Man" to the odd beat pensiveness on "Temptress" or the deliberate chill of "Vultures". I also like the full sound that they build throughout these songs. While there are clearly some guitar overdubs and occasional studio treatments, the album is not so far from what the band delivers on stage.

Give Wire Faces a listen and, if you want to help support them, drop by iTunes and pick up King Cataract or one of their other albums.

Recording review - Pere Ubu, Lady From Shanghai (2013)

Edgy intensity intrigues, but sometimes cloys

In my mind, the Talking Heads and Pere Ubu are inextricably linked by an edgy intensity, but that shallow connection is unfair to both bands. Arriving at around the same time, both acts centered on nervous, unlikely leaders and each helped establish the new wave iconoclast ideal, confidently creating strange music that ignored conventional formulas. But where David Byrne was socially awkward and soft-spoken, David Thomas was effusively manic and unapologetically odd. While the Talking Heads reached a larger audience with their art-school sensibility, Pere Ubu was unquestioningly more experimental and challenging. That was always part of the appeal, though. Appreciating the spasmodic rhythms and Thomas’ expressive yowls satisfied a hipster need for esoteric flavors. Like Captain Beefheart a decade earlier, Pere Ubu’s music made more sense after repeated sessions, even if it remained hard to explain.

 In sharp contrast with the mainstream, Thomas was more interested in exploring musical ideas than commercial success and he seemed ambivalent about keeping the band going. A brief flirtation with MTV popularity in 1989 with “Waiting For Mary” was their peak, rising above an underground cult cachet, and they’ve drifted in and out of hiatus since then.

With their more recent albums, Thomas has been more forthcoming about his artistic intent. Seemingly in response to their first album, The Modern Dance (1978), the press release for Pere Ubu’s latest asserts an anti-dance message, “Smash the hegemony of dance…Lady From Shanghai is an album of dance music fixed.” The opening tune, “Thanks”, tackles that mission head on. It’s vaguely structured like an electronic track with a solid beat and a simple repeated line, “You can go to Hell,” that satirizes Anita Ward’s disco hit “Ring my bell”, but the assembled layers sound more like organic tape overdubs than stiff digital loops. This send up proves to be one of the few concessions that the band makes to modern musical trends. Otherwise, the album largely relies on Pere Ubu’s classic new wave foundation.

Beyond the down-with-dance theme, the band offers up a companion book of “liner notes” called Chinese Whispers. Thomas explains the title as an alternate name for the game of “Telephone” and outlines how he’s used that metaphor as a strategy to develop Lady From Shanghai. The album is an outcome of this production technique rather than a compositional approach. Separating his role as producer from performance, he minimizes context for band members, sequestering them to develop and record their parts so the collected elements lead to an unpredictable result. This is similar to some of Frank Zappa’s techniques of conducting a band sans score. Tracks like the plaintive jazz deconstruction on “The Road Trip of Bipasha Ahmed” or the eerie beauty of “Mandy” derive their underlying tension from Thomas’ rootless process and unplanned juxtapositions.

At its best, Lady From Shanghai delivers the off-kilter sound that made Pere Ubu so attractive back in the new wave dawn. “Free White”, “And Then Nothing Happened”, and “Lampshade Man” all have the same fingerprint whorl of discordant post-punk guitars, sharp beats, and quirky, meandering vocals. Some of the stranger digressions present their own charming character. “Feuksley Ma’am, The Hearing” shows Thomas’ heavier production hand, packed with cut and pasted samples of Thomas Edison’s “Mary Had a Little Lamb”. Infused with static like a mutilated message from the past, it’s trippy and delightfully bizarre.

The project’s big weakness is that several songs are self-conscious in their oddity. “Feuksley Ma’am” distracts like a shiny bauble but doesn’t leave a deep impression. The experimental minimalism of “The Carpenter Sun” embraces an abstract collage of sound that revels in harsh tones and loose rhythms, but lacks focus. “414 Seconds” features Thomas slamming a poetic spoken word riff over clashing melodic lines. In a moment of confession, he asks, “Did I do that terrible thing only in my dream? Or is the dream simply a tawdry bid for self-deception?” The question’s relevance becomes a bit too meta for the piece.

It’s fitting that Thomas recommends in Chinese Whispers, “Reach a separate peace with Failure.” Things won’t be perfect because failure is inevitable; missing the mark slightly is a sign that Pere Ubu is still reaching for an admirable goal.

(This review originally appeared in Spectrum Culture)

Front Range - Recommended shows, 9/10

A couple of all star bands and some other changes of pace. This is a great week of music - choose wisely.

12 September (Aggie Theatre, Ft. Collins CO)
13 September (Fox Theatre, Boulder CO)
14 September (Cervantes Masterpiece, Denver CO)
Easy Star All-Stars

The Easy Star All-Stars are touring behind their Michael Jackson cover album, Easy Star's Thrillah (review), which is their latest reggae reinvention. This is a great band to catch live and we're lucky to get so many stops along the Front Range. The All-Stars will have a stage packed with talent, with several charismatic players taking front duties in rotation. Aside from the Michael Jackson songs, expect a sampling from their other albums with songs by Pink Floyd, Radiohead, and the Beatles. As strange a combination as it sounds, the reggae/dub backbone creates a consistency that creates a perfect flow.

Even if your interest in reggae is limited to that one time you heard your college roommate's copy of Bob Marley's Legend, you will definitely enjoy this show.

12 September (Boulder Theater, Boulder CO)
13 September (Pikes Peak Center, Colorado Springs CO)
The B-52s

I haven't seen the B-52s since they opened for the Who in 1982 (along with Joan Jett). Despite the hostile crowd, the band's confidence never faltered and they played a great, if short, set. Their surf-tone new wave sound, outré lyrical themes, and party attitude made the B-52s one of my favorite bands of the early '80s. Decades later, the band is still going strong, with more focus on touring than the studio. Come out ready for classics like Rock Lobster and Love Shack as well as more recent tracks like Funplex.

14 September (Fox Theatre, Boulder CO)
15 September (Ogden Theatre, Denver CO)
North Mississippi Allstars

Get down deep, dirty and funky. North Mississippi Allstars have their fingers on the rootsy pulse of southern rock and blues, which grounds them even as they spin out into psychedelic funk jams or barrel house boogies. They may be treading paths laid by the Allman Brothers and others, but they have an earthier feel. The band is adept at moving from rollicking rockers to deeply heartfelt, traditional tunes. They come through the Front Range fairly often, but it's always worth catching their show.

14 September (Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Morrison CO)
15 September (Boulder Theater, Boulder CO)
Umphrey's McGee

Like most progressive jammers, Umphrey's McGee's studio work barely scratches the surface of the band's talent. Their concerts showcase the band's range and give a better sense of how they meld technical proficiency with a gifted sense of coordination and timing. Umphrey's McGee has a unique tone among the other big name jam bands because they incorporate some wider ranging influences from prog and metal. The Boulder Theatre show is already sold out, but Red Rocks is the perfect venue to experience their show.

Recording review - Eternal Summers, Correct Behavior (2012)

Classic new wave sound evokes 1982, with tight arrangements and striking vocals

Eternal Summers' EP Prisoner (review) was my introduction to the band last year. At the time, the duo's dream wave sound made an impression in a mere four songs. The new wave grooves coupled with Nicole Yun's ethereal vocals created an interesting mix. Her choppy guitar work meshed well with drummer Daniel Cundiff's tight beats.

But a lot has changed in the last year. The band has added a full time bass player (Jonathan Woods) and their new album, Correct Behavior has sidled closer to a classic new wave sound.

The thing I love about Correct Behavior is that it's a perfect page out of time. Their sound is unselfconscious, without being a ripoff or tribute. And yet they perfectly capture 1982 for me. Deborah Harry had inspired a new generation of post punk young women. Missing Persons, Berlin, Romeo Void...the radio was full of staccato guitars and striking feminine vocals. For me, 1982 is all about smoky clubs and intense new wave bands.

The opening track of Correct Behavior, Millions, has the slick sheen of new wave pop. Yun's lacquered vocals capture Terri Nunn's simple phrasing with dreamy detachment:

I've got to shake this shell
And break it into millions

But her guitar work is the standout element. The looped slices of rhythm guitar contrasts beautifully with the chaotic accents of ambient feedback and powerful riffs. The track has all the sparkle of Berlin's best work, but that touch of chaos is more modern.

That new wave sound anchors much of the album, from the Modern English sound of You Kill to the speedy Television beat of I Love You. While Yun's vocals occasionally hint at a hazier tone, Eternal Summers doesn't really reveal their dream pop side until the fifth track, It's Easy. The somewhat melodic bass line reaches for psychedelia but the guitar never gets enough echo or tremolo to let the track drift fully into head space. Nicole Yun's voice is wrapped in cotton wisp to form a thin veneer on top of the simple changes.

That ethereal sound makes a couple more appearances on the album, but Eternal Summers seem more interested in exploring post punk worlds. The welcome addition of the bass opens up a fuller band sound. Stripped down on Prisoner, the band seems to relish the luxury of having an extra member. Woods' bass on Good As You is subtle but powerful. He punches the beat with the guitar early on, but sometimes shifts to a loose twin of the vocals that makes the arrangement free fall a moment before settling back into the groove.

1982 was a good year for new wave. So is 2012.

CD review - Kid Icarus, American Ghosts (2011)

Noise pop jams on a solid foundation of '80s new wave

American Ghosts' opening track, Hang Gliders quickly takes off in an exuberant wash of guitars and cymbals. Kid Icarus infuse the song with live performance energy. At the same time, the compressed mid-range mix takes me back to the lower budget sound of the DIY '80s, where lo-fi wasn't an aesthetic choice but a necessity. The band channels groups like the Replacements and Hüsker Dü, who built a sound grounded in pure enthusiasm.

While, Kid Icarus has an instinctive feel for new wave flavored indie rock, they also have some more modern influences. The bare bones darkness in the verses of Wasteland Blues snowballs into a strong post-rock/noise pop groove, buoyed by a meandering guitar line. The middle section meltdown of Bicycle Spokes II slides into Trail of Dead territory. While I enjoy the retro feel of the earlier songs, these moments separate Kid Icarus from a cloying haze of nostalgia and offers a different sensibility to appreciate their sound.

Kid Icarus may just be another independent band reaching from the shadows, but American Ghosts proves that they deserve to ripple out of their Pennsylvania scene. You should check them out. With enough support, they might get the chance to tour Colorado so I can see them. I expect their live sound is phenomenal;-).

CD review - La Femme, Le Podium #1 (2010)

America has been the land of opportunity. Along with releasing their EP, Le Podium #1, La Femme is touring the US, hoping to grab some of our mystique to take home. SF Weekly quotes Marlon (from the band), "...when we go back to France, just having played around the U.S. will be an advantage." They've started their visit on the West coast, all the better to tap into their musical inspiration.

Surf music has had an impact all over the world from Dengue Fever's version of surf influenced Cambodian rock to Laika and the Cosmonauts Finnish take. La Femme's serve as Paris' latest entry on the scene. Their interpretation has electronic undertones. Tight beats and bass, flanged and reverbed guitar, and subtle keyboard work weave together. The mostly female vocals are all in French (naturellement). Sur La Planche shows off their dance surf sound.

After that start, Le Podium #1 drifts afield from a straight surf vibe. Télégraphe is a Blondie style new wave. Despite starting off with male vocals, the female vocal comes back. The nervous beat reminds me of Gruppo Sportivo's Mission a Paris. The band continues the new wave/post punk sound with La Femme Ressort. Here, their minimalist approach sounds the most emphatically French. The guitars take a backseat and let the keyboards drive this one.

The EP ends with the edgy electronic sounding Francoise, pushing the boundaries of "surf". Eventually, the foggy mood of the intro melts away to reveal the surf guitar melody. Even then, the synth sound dominates the arrangement.

Le Podium #1 is available on BandCamp. Listen and think of smoky late afternoon at the cafe, while the drizzle coats the streets.

CD review - Deluka, You Are The Night (2010)

Deluka's self-titled EP (my review) was just an appetizer for the upcoming full length CD, You Are The Night, which is due out in October (download release is September 14). The five songs on the EP hit a tight mesh of new wave music and club-centric pop sensibility. The new CD delivers on that taste with consistently catchy songs that continue Deluka's exploration of an updated retro sound. Two strong songs from the EP slide into place on the album (OMFG and Cascade), but the rest are new. The tempos stay a little faster, which stresses the poppier elements of their sound.

Deluka - "Nevada" on PopMatters

The new single, Nevada, is a great sign of what the album offers. It's a fast rocker, sounding like the Killers with a Debbie Harry sound on the vocals. This gem shows off Deluka's writing skills -- the various sections of the song transition through a great dynamic range, making the song feel longer than it really is. The rock guitar combines with an underlying disco synth to build a perfect tension.

You Are The Night flows smoothly from highlight to highlight. The modern pop of Come Back To Me follows Nevada to show off Innocenti's expressive sultry voice. Mean Streak nails the dance club groove with a tight electronic sound. The driving rock of Morning Comes harnesses a disco beat to some very interesting guitar work.

The sparse start to Waves doesn't hint at its epic nature. It's moody and threatened:

You know what it means if you don't deliver
Baby, you're the gun and I'm your trigger

The waves crash into a funky post-punk jam. The melody echoes the first verse, but the feel is more frenetic and edgy. The counterpoint between the guitars marks the boundaries of the cage. The bridge collects eddies of sound before the final fade.

Deluka's You Are The Night is a supreme followup on their EP. Their modern pop reinvention of old school new wave is no pastiche gimmick. Keep an ear open; it'll be out soon. Let's move beyond the Kir Royale. We'll keep the Chambord, but go for a Champagne Supernova as our matching beverage.

CD review - Spoon - Kill The Moonlight (2002)

Slap-CHOP! Themes of alienation and how to cope inspire staccato power pop songs. On Kill the Moonlight, Austin's Spoon channels new wave/power pop bands like Wire through a more modern indie rock filter. The songs all have a touch of new wave emotional distance as they deal with helplessness, numbing distractions, and disaffection. The driving, choppy beats make it an interesting listen and keep it from slipping into some kind of emo sink.

Normally, production values don't stand out unless the band is going for a low-fi feel (e.g. some of Beck's early work) or heavily using a technology like AutoTune. The stripped down arrangements on Kill the Moonlight are engineered to emphasize a disconnection between the component parts. In particular, several songs have piano parts that sound photoshopped in. That said, there's a retro vibe here that's compelling.

There's an overwhelming Brit feel here, with many of the songs evoking groups like XTC (Something To Look Forward To), T. Rex (Someone Something, You Gotta Feel It), and Elvis Costello (All the Pretty Girls Go To The City). The saving grace is that it's a set of influences, not rip-offs.

All The Pretty Girls Go To The City is one of my favorite tracks. Aside from the saturation of Elvis Costello throughout the song, there's a wonderfully ominous piano that has some of the same threat as the guitar in Costello's Watching the Detectives. It's complemented by shards of echoey guitar. Although the lyrics are a bit ambiguous about these girls, the music is a walk down a rainy alley that acts as a warning.

Vittorio E stands out as unique on this album. The sound is nothing like the rest of the songs. A collection of recording studio artifacts coalesce into a song. It builds, surrounded by a haze of U2, with layers of elements accruing into a pearl of a song. It's pretty and smoother, without the relentless staccato beat of the other songs. There's still some of the same sonic distance, so the pieces don't mesh as smoothly as they could, but it's a fine after dinner mint of a song.

Enjoy a double shot of espresso while you listen to Kill the Moonlight.

CD review - Spiral Beach, The Only Really Thing (2009)

Spiral Beach is a quartet out of Toronto. The Only Really Thing is their second album. They have a thick layer of retro in their sound. Some of this comes from the arrangements, but the bulk arises from the heavier reverb, a bit of noise in the mix, and the tight, paired vocal arrangements. With an aesthetic that's informed by the Go Go's, the B-52's and Debbie Harry, it's a fun, punky, new wave with a taste of danceable pop.

In a tie for best song of the album, Raising the Snake and May Go Round (In a Mania) each have a bit of Bollywood soundtrack groove. The arrangements feel quite foreign (Dengue Fever anyone). Raising the Snake sounds a bit like Ghost Town by the Specials, with a spooky groove and ska beat along with the choral effect on the vocal. It ends with some Pink Floyd spaciness. This feeds immediately into the club beat intro of May Go Round. This has a similar scale driven, foreign sound but a lot more frantic B-52's in the vocals.

There's plenty to back these songs. The disco drive of Cemetery features a Debbie Harry style vocal and shimmery guitars. A little syrup in the keyboard string sound, but not overdone. Domino sounds like the B-52's jamming on the theme to The Munsters. A driving beat, surf/garage guitars, and tight vocal harmonies all fit together. These songs sound like they need to be heard live.

The closer, Shake the Chain, has an old, old Tom Waits influenced sound. Moody and jazzy, singer Maddy Wilde evokes a weary chanteuse vibe which fits the song perfectly.

Pour me a gin and tonic and I'll tap my foot to this retro groove (but not totally living in the past).

Other listening recommendations:
B-52's Planet Clair
Dengue Fever, Ethanopium
Tom Waits, Hang On Saint Christopher, Shore Leave

Multimedia review - Ian Curtis and Joy Division

Binging on Ian Curtis and Joy Division is not for the weak of heart or those prone to depression. I recently read Touching From a Distance: Ian Curtis and Joy Division (1995), written by Ian's wife, Deborah Curtis. Then I watched Anton Corbijn's film, Control (2007), which is loosely based on Deborah's book. Finally I watched Grant Gee's documentary, Joy Division (2007).Much like interviewing witnesses to a train wreck, a rough consensus develops, but each recollection has it's own flavor and agenda. They all agree on the basic story. A relatively quiet young guy, obsessed with the glam and punk music of the day, wants to be part of it. He marries young and has a troubled marriage. He becomes the face and voice of a talented band, contributing lyrics and a dark kind of energy. He has an affair and suffers through the impact on his marriage. He develops epilepsy, which has a profound effect on his ongoing depression. He attempts suicide and finally succeeds the day before he and the band are due to tour in America. Everyone around is shocked.

I was fairly familiar with the story back in the early '80s, after listening to Joy Division and New Order, which rose from the ashes. At the time, the common wisdom was that Ian Curtis had history of depression and was unable to cope with the idea of success. The part of about depression rings true, but my sense out of all of this is that things were not so simple.

Touching From a Distance is interesting because Deborah had a lot more private knowledge of Ian, both his past and his time with the band. Of course, given the conflicts caused by Ian's infidelity and moodiness (plus any normal marital strife), it can't all be taken at face value. Still, Deborah Curtis paints an image of an interesting man: depressive but social within his own network of friends, quiet offstage but a mesmerizing performer, angry and tortured but emotionally invested in his civil service job, and a follower of the nascent punk scent that created a large part of the post punk new wave aesthetic. She seems to come to the conclusion that Ian Curtis had a longtime fascination with death and that his suicide was almost pre-ordained. She points to an early overdose experience in his youth and his lyrical imagery as evidence.

Even though Control is loosely based on Deborah Curtis' biography, it's more of a muddle. This story is too complicated if the book is followed closely, so Anton Corbijn sacrifices much of the explanatory history in order to hit the highlights. It's a whirlwind tour of concerts, a marriage, recording, and an affair. Sam Riley has the right look and captures Ian's mood swings, but he doesn't have enough of a narrative to help the audience get him. The only thing Corbijn successfully emphasizes is the distance between Ian and Deborah. In this view, Ian is tired, desperate, and depressed. Suicide has become his only escape. While this was the weakest of these three pieces, the music is what saves it. There's some great old songs on the soundtrack and the actors do a passable job of covering Joy Division's live performances.

Grant Gee's documentary is richer than Control and offers a good contrast to Touching From a Distance. Joy Division is more band focused and is built on a combination of interviews and band footage. It does a great job of explaining the music scene at the time and giving a sense of how Joy Division influenced that post punk era. The recollections don't always mesh perfectly, but they seem coherent. Ian is portrayed more a regular guy than just a tortured artist. The band and others talk about his sense of humor and moxie. There's much less emphasis on his epilepsy, but that may be because he downplayed that despite his onstage seizures. There's more attention on his girlfriend, Annik Honore, including some brief screen time. Interestingly, Deborah Curtis is never interviewed or shown, although some quotes from her book are included. In this view, Ian's suicide is seen more as either a stupid accident or a way to keep from holding back the band.

So, what's the truth? It won't be found here or in any other book. Given Ian's depression and all of the stress he was going through, it probably wasn't so much a long time plan as an immediate escape. The real point of all of this is to listen to Joy Division. Hear the driving tension of Transmission or She's Lost Control. Listen to Love Will Tear Us Apart and wonder why no one saw the end coming. Sip some Irish coffee and savor the bittersweet sound of Isolation.