Live Show: A. A. Bondy

It’s not very often that I go to a show knowing absolutely nothing about who I am about to see. I tend to think that knowing the songs beforehand can make seeing them performed live a much more interesting experience. Obviously I’m saying all this to build up the fact that I went into this show knowing nothing about it and it was amazing. Not only was the performance incredible, it was an odd stormy night complete with lightning and thunder, which for those of us in Phoenix is a real treat.

A. A. Bondy walked onto the stage wearing a tucked in shirt, high rise jeans, black boots, and sipping whiskey. I knew right away that this guy was awesome. He tuned his guitar and started fingerpicking a slow melody. It was nothing complicated or new, but it had that rare quality of being instantly engaging. I’m not sure how old he is but he has the voice of a man who’s been smoking a pipe for forty years. It was deep, raspy, and felt like he had spent a lifetime in places I would never go to.

His set rose and fell in energy and drama, like all great stories. Slide guitar, keys, drums, and a bass joined in on occasion but it was his voice that really kept your attention. At times I felt like if I closed my eyes, I was actually listening to an old vinyl record in. It didn’t matter if it was just him and a guitar singing quietly or the whole band rocking out with distortion, every song was tight, beautiful, and was over before anyone knew it. You know the crowd feels the same as you when there is a long pause between the end of a song and the start of the applause. Almost as if each of us had forgotten to breathe.

If you haven’t had a chance to hear A. A. Bondy, then you definitely need to check him out. If possible, make sure it’s stormy out.

Live Shows: Fuck Buttons

Live shows, like most things in LA, are a pain in the ass, especially if you live in a suburb of a suburb of a suburb of LA. Needless to say, I didn’t go to a lot of concerts. Since moving to Phoenix, all of that has changed. I have half a dozen venues within biking distance and most shows are around 10-15 bucks. Not bad. Don’t worry, this post is not about how lucky I am or why Phoenix is awesome, it is the first of many live show reviews that I am going to be doing because if you haven’t seen a band live then you can’t really be a fan (insert pretentious look of a hipster smoking a cigarette.)

Fuck Buttons, best band name I’ve seen in a while, played at the Rhythm Room a few weeks ago and completely blew me away, and I mean that almost literally. Rhythm Room is not a big place and when you are standing ten feet from speakers as big as you are, you feel the music as much as you hear it.

If you haven’t listened to any of the Fuck Buttons music, it’s a complete cluster fuck of sound and I mean that in the best way possible. They layer beats on top of beats on top of static on top of feedback on top of piano and on and on and on until you feel less like you are listening to a band and more like you are trapped in a wind tunnel full of noise. Your chest vibrates like a bass drum, you can’t tell if your ears are ringing or if it’s some sample they are using and the air seems to be pushing you back and forth with the music. Thank god that I brought my earplugs.

Besides the amazing sound they created, Fuck Buttons toyed with you as you listened. Since their songs slowly build off repetitive loops, there are moments where you lose focus on them playing and your mind begins to wander, almost hypnotically. Almost as soon as I lost focus, they would kick in a new wave of distortion and slap me out of the comatose state I was heading towards.

Moving away from the music for a moment, Fuck Buttons setup for the show was completely nuts. It was like watching two mad scientists working to create a monster. On stage they had a large table completely covered with sound boards, keyboards, beat machines, a gameboy, and a child’s tape recorder. I’m not doing it justice with my description because, to be honest, I don’t know what half of the things were up there so I’m just gonna leave them out. While they were playing, each of them went from twisting knobs, banging on a drum, hitting buttons on the gameboy, playing keyboards, and then yelling into the children’s tape recorder microphone. It was mesmerizing just to try and decipher what each gizmo did up there.

If you get a chance to see these guys perform, do it. You will not be disappointed. Throughout nearly the whole show, I had that heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach like when you put on your favorite song and can’t concentrate on anything else. This was one of those concerts that transcended music and became a spiritual experience, where you know there has to be a god because sound could not have this effect on you otherwise. If I haven’t convinced you to go see them, then you are a lost cause and probably an atheist.

New Moon soundtrack and the death of indie music as we know it

After I saw the first Twilight movie, and yes, I’m admitting to actually seeing it, but anyway, as I as walking out of the theatre, yeah I paid to see it in the theatre, I was thinking that this movie is so bad that there is no way that this fad could infect more of my life. I was wrong. Somehow this romance novel for teens has spread it’s influence beyond the throngs of single women and infected the music industry, more specifically the indie music scene.

The last person I want to be is the hipster music fan who thinks that the more popular a band gets, the worse they become musically. I think radiohead and the white stripes have already proved that wrong. But what is startling to me is that millions of pre-teens and adults with terrible taste in most things artistic (I base this assumption off the fact that they are obsessed with Twilight and I don’t feel bad about it at all) are suddenly listening to Grizzly Bear, Thom Yorke, Death Cab, Lykke Li, and Bon Iver to name a few of the amazing artists featured on the soundtrack. Will the lure of Edward’s pasty skin be enough to get people to stop filling their ears with fast food music like Lady Gaga, Adam Lambert, and 3 Doors Down and start consuming heartier music?

If this soundtrack is able to spread amongst the hive mind of the preteens out there today then pop music will be changed forever. This could be a great thing, I mean, just look at places like London where the radio plays great music all day, instead of playing Kid Cudi on repeat like here in America. But there is still that empty feeling in your gut, like when your parents hear the Cake song playing during the tv show Chuck’s intro and they say, “I love this song!” and something dies inside of you. I wish I didn’t get that feeling like people are copying me but I’m not gonna lie, I do, and I think most “indie” fans out there do the exact same thing.

If New Moon launches these indie artists into mainstream, it’s only a matter of time before all of indie music does the same thing. Who am I kidding? It’s already been on the verge of that anyway even before new moon came out. It’s about the equivalent of some of the “independent” movie studios which are making 150 million dollar “indie” films.

The point of all this ranting is that we need to be prepared to say goodbye to indie music as we know it, accept the fact that our parents and 12 year old cousins are gonna be looking on pitchfork to see what albums to download, and that in spite of how much it hurts, this is a good thing. I would much rather have talented musicians on MTV than an over produced bimbo who couldn’t play “Mary had a little lamb” on the piano. It’s about time america’s musical tastes improved, it just means that us indie people will have to find some new unpopular genre to overhype. How about mariachi?

Musical Competition

Why is it that whenever two music lovers meet and start talking about bands there is all of a sudden this competitive tension that grows between the two of them. I don’t know how many times I have been talking to someone about music and as soon as I mention a band that they haven’t heard of, it’s like they stop listening to what I’m saying and start thinking of obscure bands they can try to stump me with. This goes back and forth and grows until all that we are saying is “Have you heard of Blah Blah? No? Well they are awesome.” “Cool, do they sound like Blah Blah Blah? Oh, you haven’t heard of them. You should check them out.” This keeps going until I can’t handle it anymore and change the subject.

Why do people always do this? Is it that hard to just accept the fact that you don’t know every band out there? Is the fact that you haven’t heard their newest EP that just leaked yesterday so offensive to your musical ego that you have to be reminded that you know at least one fact that they don’t? Or is it just me being overly sensitive about this?

 

Wild Beasts: Two Dancers

Hayden Thorpe is two people, he has to be. When I first listened to Wild Beasts’s new album I thought, “Wow, what a great guy/girl combo of singers this band has.” It wasn’t until my second time around that I started to realize that the girl’s part sounded a little odd. Looking it up on wikipedia, it was confirmed that there is only one singer in Wild Beasts, and he is a god among men.

Two Dancers is a showcase of Hayden’s dual personality, his delicate, feminine voice so painfully fragile, and his deep, confident masculine side, as they dance back and forth across the album. At times the two share songs, like in “Hooting and Howling” and “When I’m Sleepy” where they rhythmically switch back and forth, like two dancers spinning around each other. In the “Fun Powder Plot” and “We Still Got the Taste Dancing on Our Tongues”, Hayden’s feminine vibrato dominates, almost floating above the music.

Even the entire album itself is split in half. The front is lighter and more feminine sounding than the back half where Hayden’s voice tends to stay lower and more commanding. Even the music matches this, the beats are overall playful or ethereal in the front but once the sixth track “Two Dancers” begins, the drums take on a firmer, more serious rhythm.

“Two Dancers” is also the first track that is completely controlled by Hayden’s masculine side. From this track to the last, Hayden’s voice guides the album from its vague, misty beginning to bring it out into the open so we can look back at the trail that we have been on.

While Hayden’s voice easily overshadows the rest of the music, Wild Beasts’ musical talent is obvious. Drums and guitars dance along with Hayden, supporting him or taking over when appropriate. It’s a delicate balance but Wild Beasts succeeds in creating a beautiful, haunting album.

I highly recommend Two Dancers, 10/10

The Pocket Watch

There was once a young man who’s prized possession was a gold pocket watch. Everyday he wound it, polished the gold and kept it safely in his coat pocket.

One day, a traveling salesman came to town. He rode in on a beautiful white carriage and all the townspeople, including the young man, lined up to see what he had to offer. When it was his turn to go inside the tent, he was surprised to see that there was nothing but wooden boxes piled around the walls.

“You must be wondering what it is that I sell,” said the salesmen, glancing down at the breast pocket of the young man. “I sell protection, for whatever is most precious to you.”

“I hate to waste your time, sir, but I don’t really have much that needs protecting,” the young man said as he put on his hat and turned to walk out.

“Hold on a minute, before you go, may I see that beautiful pocket watch you have hidden away in your coat?” the salesman smiled bashfully, “If it’s half as beautiful as the chain, I’d be kicking myself all the way home if I didn’t at least get a look at it.”

Now the young man was very proud of his pocket watch. Not in a boastful way but he never missed the chance to show someone who was interested.

“Incredible craftsmanship. This is a real treasure,” the salesman smiled as he handed it back to the young man. “It’s a real shame she’s not gonna last.”

“What do you mean by that?” choked the young man.

“Don’t worry, my friend, it’s just that beautiful watch is getting worn down from all the use. You see how the edges are starting to dull from too much winding?” the salesman pointed at the watch in the young man’s trembling hand. “And the polish is starting to wear away the beveling on the front? It won’t be long until you won’t have to open it to see the time.”

“But how do I stop that from happening?” said the young man.

“Now that I can help you with,” the salesman’s smile widened. “I’m selling you the protection you need to keep that watch looking as shiny and new as the day you bought it.”

The salesman reached behind him and pulled out a small grey box.

“All you have to do is buy one of these boxes,” he said, opening the box. “The interior is completely air tight, to keep away any pests, and cushioned to prevent scratches. Once you seal it up in here, you will never have to worry again. Everything is taken care of.”

The young man went home and laid his watch carefully in the box, packing it in tightly with straw and cloth to keep it safe.

For the next week, he only left it in the box at night. Then one day he tripped and the watch fell of his pocket and out onto the street, scratching the side. After that he left his watch at home, only looking at it before he went to bed.

As the years went by, he looked at it less and less. The addition of children to the house meant the box was moved to the closet where it was quietly forgotten. The man bought a cheaper watch to tell him the time and eventually forgot about the one stored safely in the grey box.

When the young man became an old man, he saw a gold pocket watch in a storefront window and remembered his. He walked quickly home, all the forgotten pride rising up in him. At the back of the closet the grey box was waiting for him, looking as safe as the day he bought it. When he opened the box and dug through the brittle straw, he pulled out a brown lump. The watch was tarnished beyond recognition. He tried to open it but it refused to budge. Grabbing a screwdriver, he snapped the cover off revealing a faded watch face.

The old man sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He slowly put the pieces into his coat pocket, his hand softly pressing the lump against his chest.

Coffee Shop Heartache

Is she? No, there’s no way, I’m just imagining things. Well, there she goes again with that little smile. Just go over there, stop thinking about it. Ok, I’m gonna do it. Next time she looks over here I’m going to smile back, look away, look back and then if she is still looking she totally wants me.
Oh shit, she just looked at me while I was drinking and I missed my double take chance. Go over there already! Dammit, she pulled a book out of her bag, now it’s just rude to bother her. No it isn’t! You’re thinking too much. It’s only rude if she doesn’t like you. It’s like the ultimate litmus test for attraction. Ok, I’m going to go over to the newspaper pile and pick one up, then ask her about her book. Wait, she’s reading a Danielle Steel book. My grandma reads those and that’s the only thing that I can think of to tell her. Abort! Abort!
What kind of girl my age reads Danielle Steel? Now I don’t know if I even want to talk to her. Would she read those in bed with me? I don’t know how I would feel if we were together and she started reading those. It’s way too much pressure. It’s the emotional equivalent of me reading playboy before bed.
Sorry, Ms. Barista, I was going to pay for this newspaper. Where is my change? A dollar twenty five! Shit it’s Sunday. You know what, this is going to be the first paper I read cover to cover, just to get my money’s worth. Who am I kidding, Just take the comics out and throw away the rest. I wish I was Gary Larson, that guy must get so much ass. I can just see him drawing on a napkin a little cartoon with his number on it and then smoothly passing it over to this group of girls. Shit, I need a talent of some kind.
Oh god, the girl is coming over here, is it at me that she’s smiling or because of the sex on horseback she just read. Just smile back! Am I smiling, it feels like it might be a grimace. How much teeth should I show? I don’t know, oh god, I’m half smiling! Stop it!
She’s walking out. I should chase after her and ask her out. She’s already in the mood for something romantic, damn, what was I thinking! Danielle Steel in a crowded coffee shop, that girl was begging to be asked out. Go after her!
Wait, do I want someone that desperate though? Reading a book like that in a crowded room, she might as well be a bridesmaid without a date. That’s definitely a red flag. Crisis averted.
But all girls are a little crazy, what if her brand of craziness is just what I need? Oh what’s the use, she is long gone by now. It wasn’t meant to be. God, why is that so depressing? I didn’t even know her and now I feel like I just got dumped. The fact that I feel like that makes me even more depressed.
Did Ms. Barista just smile at me? It’s her job to do that, come on, stop playing around. She is pretty cute though.

I’m a patriotic American, but I’m not bat-shit crazy

If you had to choose between dating a beautiful, smart, funny person and a beautiful, smart, funny, and very patriotic person, which would you choose? Chuck Klosterman asked this question in his book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs and I immediately chose the non patriotic person. So did most of the people he asked. But why is that?

No one bats an eye when we describe an Italian as being patriotic towards Italy. Same goes for pretty much every other nationality on the planet (except for North Korea, no one is going to believe that they are patriotic because they choose to be). So why is it that if someone is described as a very patriotic American, the first thought that comes to mind is an ignorant, bible throwing, redneck?

I love America and I think gay marriage and marijuana should be legalized. I love America and I think we spend too much time fighting wars on terror and drugs when we don’t have enough money for children in school. I love America and I think that we as a people put too much faith in the federal government to solve our problems when we don’t know how to balance our own checkbooks.

America was the sexiest quarterback on the highschool football team for so many years, it stuck it’s dick in far too many places without thinking ahead of time, and is now waking up to find itself alone, fat, bald, suffering from multiple venereal diseases, and surrounded by all its old classmates who hate it has pissed off. But I still love America.

Even though we have done so many stupid things, burned so many bridges, and wrecked our economy, America still has the potential to be great.

I love America, not for what it is now but for what it should be.

Happy Independence Day!

Awkward Conversations

At some point in my life, probably around the time that I discovered alcohol and ran down the street in a man thong, I started to stop worrying so much about being awkward. Being an unusually tall and lanky white guy this was for the best since I had given up hope that I was going to somehow grow into myself and finally stop running into things.

That said, I have since learned to love all things awkward. Before I was so intent on staring at my own tree trunk of awkwardness that I was missing out on the forest that is the awkwardness of everyone else around me, and let me tell you, this is the most entertaining forest I have ever been in.

Because of this love, I am going to start making new posts filled with all things awkward beginning with awkward conversations. These are the spices that make social gatherings so full of half smiles and glances towards your phone. Stories about how poorly your kid is doing in school or how you one time bought concert tickets but then went on the wrong day are so boring in and of themselves but when people try their darndest to make them special it adds just a pinch of  magic to them.

And without further ado, here comes my first awkward conversation which is based on a true story from my life:

Scene: Pepperdine University classroom, desks are lined against the walls and people are gathered in the middle. On the board the words “Swingdance Class” is written in large cursive. Drew, which is me, walks up to Sarah who is standing alone.

Drew: Hi! I’m Drew

Sarah: Hi, Sarah.

Awkward handshake.

Drew: You’re probably really good at this huh?

Sarah: What? Swingdancing? No, why? Do I look like it?

Drew: No, you’re just a girl so I’m guessing you are.

Sarah: Well, prepare to be let down.

Awkward laugh.

Drew: Don’t worry, you’re gonna look like a pro next to me. So what year are you and what are you studying?

Sarah: I’m a sophomore and I’m majoring in Theater and English. You?

Drew: Oh, I already graduated but I majored in Advertising.

Sarah: Really!? When did you graduate from here?

Drew: It was last year and it wasn’t from here. I’ve never taken a class here before.

Sarah: Then, uh, why are you here now?

Sarah looks away towards the other groups.

Drew: My brother goes here, that’s him over there.

Sarah: That’s nice.

Another girl comes walking over and gives Sarah a big hug filled with lots of screams. Drew stands and just watches awkwardly.

Sarah: Drew, this is Megan, Megan, Drew.

Drew: Hi, nice to meet you.

Awkward handshake.

Megan: What year are you?

End Scene.

And the best part about that scene is that it took place at least a dozen times that night.

Matt & Kim – Grand

Mature is such an overused and ambiguous word that I hesitate to use it to describe Matt & Kim’s new album. Of course,  saying all that means that I’m just going to use it anyway and I wanted to make it seem like I at least tried to be original.

On Matt & Kim, their last album, they sounded like two kids dancing while playing their instruments, oblivious to the fact that anyone was listening to them. It was like we were secretly joining them in that euphoric place where music causes us to forget our four other senses.

Matt & Kim have been shaken out of that musical dream by their ever increasing popularity. For the first time their music feels self-aware and intentional. Although they have lost that innocence, their sound has matured and grown stronger. Matt uses his voice in new and creative ways such as in “I’ll Take Us Home” where, like his “wolf-like shadow”, he howls painfully at New York.

Moderation is a key to maturity and Matt & Kim balance their dance songs with a few softer ballads, which sound tame on Grand but on any other album could be mistaken for an upbeat song. They are learning the invaluable lesson of not only knowing what they can do but when to do it.

Listening to Grand makes you want to dance, clap, and run naked through Times Square all at the same time. It’s both rebelious and contemplative at times while never forgetting that music is just supposed to be fun.

Go get Grand right now!

Matt & Kim – Grand: 8/10