Springtime

Things have been picking up in the last month or so. More tours coming through, one of the welcome harbingers of springtime for me.

Just a few noteworthy shows I’ve seen lately:

Son Volt, Bobby Bare Jr:

Wow, this was a good lineup.

I wasn’t all that familiar with Bobby Bare Jr’s quirky brand of folk-rock. Wonderfully emotive, strained singing voice, and songs that somehow managed to be folk, country…and…i guess….arena rock? Hair metal? all at once. This was a lot of fun.

Son Volt was absolutely fantastic. I’ll confess that I only own Trace, so a lot of the set was new material to me. (Why in the hell don’t I have Wide Swing Tremolo? What is my problem, anyway?) They were polished, and though the slow- to mid-tempo bent to their music seemed to make the set lag a bit toward the middle, they could really cook when they turned up the rock.

This show ended with something I haven’t seen before- a second encore as people were streaming out of the 9:30 club, causing an excited rush back to the stage.

New Pornographers w/ Okkervil River

So, for me the New Pornographers have not held more than a passing interest. I think they’re a very talented  bunch of songwriters with a really unique sound, but it just doesn’t hit me. I really enjoyed their set though- they were an extraordinarily tight band, engaging performers and their set was sequenced very well, crescendoing in all the right places.

I hear a lot of moaning about Neko Case from fans who argue that she doesn’t show up often enough, isn’t dedicated enough, etc. I went to the 2nd DC show; she’d been sick the previous night and nobody knew if she’d be on stage the second night.

Well, she showed up. Hobbled onto the stage, in fact, having sprained her ankle shortly before set time. And was still coughing occasionally. And she was there for the whole set, in fine voice, through the encore, before being helped off stage by her bandmates.

You won’t see me questioning her dedication.

I was primarily at this show to see Okkervil River. I hate how much I love this band. I’m supposed to hate them, what with Will Sheff’s affected, melodramatic and kinda sloppy singing. Like I say in the “About” section, “If you’re pretentious, melodramatic, or a lazy musician, I probably hate your band.” There it is. And yet….I can’t help loving them; they’re like a girl I know is no good for me that I can’t stop seeing. The songs are just too good.

They got off to a bit of a slow start, but soon proved themselves the ferociously good live band I’d been promised. The songs have such huge drama inside of them, and they positively exploded in a live setting. A big, moving, soaring performance; they were a thunderstorm gathering in the sky and then dropping all it’s got.

The Beanstalk Library

Dear Gypsy Eyes Records: Just freaking sign these guys already. Their 1970s AM Radio sound is right in your wheelhouse, they’re one of the best bands in the city, and they’re stupidly overlooked (though their profile seems to be rising.) These guys are always a rewarding live experience. They were great on the Black Cat’s backstage last month, and every new song they debut seems better than everything before.

I’m going on rock-strike if I don’t see the following lineup at a show within the next two months: These United States, Justin Jones & the Driving Rain, The Beanstalk Library.

 

Jukebox The Ghost Grows Up

There are moments when some people can perform beyond any previous bounds of their abilities. When you think of great athletes, for example, these are the people who, already playing at their peak, somehow transcend all limitations when the title is on the line (Remember what Curt Schilling did for the Red Sox in the 2004 American League Championship?). What sets them apart, what makes them so compelling, is their ability to become better than themselves every time the stakes are raised.

It happens in music too. On Saturday night Jukebox the Ghost- who could scarcely get any tighter or more engaging as a live act- found themselves facing an unexpected sellout crowd for their CD release show on the Black Cat’s mainstage, and responded with the most explosive, triumphant set I’ve seen from anyone in quite a long while. After the encore, they left the stage a different band, a milestone behind them and a new standard set for themselves.

I knew there was an increasing level of interest in the band, which has had a pretty loyal following for a little while now, but it wasn’t clear just how much attention they’d drawn until ticket sales were halted at the door. They’d had plenty of blog coverage, and perhaps most significant was the spotlight shone on them by WOXY. They got quite a bit of airplay, and the EP they’d released- just as a teaser for the album- found its way onto the station’s best-of list for ‘07, alongside usual suspects Andrew Bird, Ted Leo et al.

However it happened, Jukebox took the stage, stared out at the crowd stretching back to the door, and dropped their jaws.

Here’s that moment- the stakes are raised, suddenly the performance takes on a new level of importance.

Jukebox took the opportunity for all it was worth, and from the first note their set was a special one. They absolutely roared with energy, and the crowd roared back. Great performances come down to intangibles. Jukebox is practiced and competent enough that their playing is pretty much always perfect (regardless of what a shitty soundboard may render through the PA.) What changes in a set like Saturday night’s is harder to put one’s fingers on. It’s simply an enthusiasm and a rare level of focus that comes through.

Back in my adolescent crappy-band days, my friends from other bands and I would often talk about the moments when the Rock Gods (or the Rock Demons, I can’t remember which on account of Mickey’s Malt Liquor) came down on your band, when an adrenaline-fueled trancelike state unites band members and focuses everyone in such a way that nothing exists outside of each note and each song. Bands are at their absolute best at that point. It’s impossible to mess up, your performance will be effortlessly passionate, and you can do whatever you want and it will sound great. It very nearly feels like an out-of-body experience; you give up control to the song.

I think the Rock Gods/Rock Demons had a hold of Jukebox.

Specifically, it was the Beatles. Toward the end of the set, Aaron Leeder from Exit Clov and Pash’s Meredith Munoz joined Jukebox for a Beatles medley concluding with the closing sequence of Abbey Road. Brilliant.

The encore was a frenzied rendition of “Good Day,” which is as far as I’m concerned a perfect song. Along with the irresistible “Hold It In,” it’s also Jukebox’s biggest crowd-pleaser, and proved a perfect way to end a set that had over 700 people enraptured.

So, they also released their first full-length. The record, Let Live and Let Ghosts, sounds fantastic, is wonderfully sequenced, and does a great job of capturing a very complex, schizophrenic sound with clarity.

It’s just two vocals plus three instruments- well really four with Ben’s multiple keyboards- but the band’s sound is far more than the sum of its parts. Tommy Siegel’s guitar changes from a clean twang to a lightly distorted Beatles jangle to fuzzed-out rock all in a manner of seconds, and his lighthearted vocal style is a counterpoint to some fantastically dark lyrics. Ben’s piano playing often seems too fast for the human brain to comprehend- and then you realize he’s playing a second keyboard at the same time. His singing is operatic in range and expression, and can be breathtaking. And holding it down is what people don’t mention enough- an absolutely brilliant style of drumming by Jesse Kristin, who can thunder heroically, finesse the band through a brief quiet interlude, and then pick up a tambourine while playing, also all in a manner of seconds.

The result is a band that moves from Queen to They Might Be Giants to Ben Folds Five to Vaudeville, often in the span of one song. It’s quirky and fun, but there’s a lot of work going into compositions and arrangements as complex as theirs.

They do wear their influences on their sleeves to some extent, as many have said, but they’ve also carved out an unmistakable sound within that. And I think it’s important to note that these hugely talented guys are youngsters- they just graduated from college last year (which explains the hordes of sorority girls who, while certainly appreciated for their energy and loyalty, can often become quite a distraction with their incessant chattering and self-portraiting with flash cameras). I think they can only get better as they continue to explore and define their own style.

After Saturday night’s show, things look really good for Jukebox, and I’m excited to see them begin to find a broader audience. They’re ready for their close-up.

 

Whoops.

OMG I forgot I had a blog. LOLZ.

Seriously, sorry for the lack of updates. New job is in “fine dining,” which means “I work until one in the morning and don’t get to as many shows, and then I’m tired all day.”

A while back, I went to see William Elliott Whitmore, a guy with a banjo who I saw open for the Pogues back in March. I was treated to three great acts, a rare treat.

I walked in a couple of songs into the opening set by Josh Small, and was arrested by his stunning, soulful voice. Like Whitmore, he’s a guy with a banjo, sometimes a steel guitar, and for one song an acoustic with four damned strings. His voice is incredibly emotive, his singing is fantastic, and the melodies simply hurt to listen to. Small had me completely rapt with his pained, slightly off-kilter ballads.

Bantering during his set, he was hilarious and self-deprecating, and then suddenly these stunning, majestic, introspective songs just came out of him. He seemed to become a different person as soon as he hit the first note.

I bought his latest record, Tall by Josh Small, and have not stopped listening to it. I can’t. It’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. I’m not sure I can even bring myself to mention standout tracks. Go to his MySpace page and listen to “Arc de Triomphe,” and then listen to a slightly crisper recording from a previous record, the heartstopping “setting up.”

The music recalls the folk and soul music of the ’70s and bluegrass, sort of, but as record label Suburban Home’s bio notes, “don’t be misled: this isn’t a lame hipster attempt to revitalize a bygone genre. There is a rare authenticity to Small’s sound that is impossible to ignore.”

Small’s performance was straightforward, devoid of self-conscious showmanship, and honest. As would turn out to be the case with all the performers that night, he seemed to be truly touched by the response of the crowd, and to genuinely appreciate the attention and respect of the audience.

Small sat in on a well-worn Telecaster for a set by Tim Barry of Avail (!) and his sister Caitlin.

It sort of sounded like you’d expect it to sound when the singer of a punk band plays country music with his sister on violin. Rowdy, earnest and intense songs made lush with strings earned a great response from the mostly-full room.

It was a good reminder of the common themes and ideals expressed through punk rock and country music alike. Barry sang of wanderlust, the desire for freedom and the need to make one’s own way through his life. Like Small, Tim Barry came off as honestly grateful for the crowd’s appreciation and happy that people were truly listening.

William Elliott Whitmore builds gorgeous songs out of a banjo or guitar, a stomping foot, and an utterly destroyed rasp of a voice that sounds like it’s suffered for a thousand years. It’s Appalachian folk, or bluegrass, or “white soul,” or something to that effect…

His songs carry weight. The old Saturday night/Sunday morning dichotomy- sin and salvation, guilt and redemption- runs throughout the music, and there’s an air both of resignation and optimism in his whiskey- and smoke-ravaged voice. Straightforward and honest, Whitmore’s songs can really rough you up with their humility, heartbreak and hopefulness.

The slow, dragging, tired ballad “Porchlight” takes the viewpoint of a hardworking farmer speaking to his beloved wife:

would you leave the porchlight on for me?/I come home from the field when it’s too dark to see/would you leave the porchlight on for me?

The farmer falls ill, and the wife stays by his side as he passes away, and in a gutwrenching lyrical turn, Whitmore sings his devotion:

“they say that I ain’t got long for this life/ they say that it’s my time to go/ but darling, you’ve been the most wonderful wife/ that any man could know/ well, you’ve stuck by me through thick and through thin/ since the day you became my bride/ and someday I hope to see you again/ when we meet on the other side”

And the chorus finishes:

Would you leave the porchlight on for me?

would you leave the porchlight on for me?

even though just a memory is all that I’ll be

would you leave the porchlight on for me?

It is simple, it is well-worn territory in folk music, and it is devastatingly effective. There is no need for high-minded poetry or obtuse, intellectual lyrical acrobatics. Just a pure story of a universal truth. It is unpretentious. It is genuine.

After virtually every song, Whitmore leaned up out of his chair, past the mic and toward the audience, and thanked the crowd with an honesty I couldn’t help but be touched by. He didn’t seem to be playing a show so much as sharing his songs with us, grateful for the opportunity and for our applause. Six weeks into a tour, playing a tiny room, this gesture meant a lot. It was unpretentious, and it was genuine.

This kind of stuff is really beginning to mean a lot to me. More and more, I’m finding myself bored and intolerant of “indie rock,” with its avant-garde conceits and grandiose posturing. I feel like a lot of these artists, and I’m not naming names, are trying to create something New and Great without any regard to the traditional, the subtle.

You know what it’s like? It’s like….a baseball player swinging for the fences every time who can’t manage a base hit when it’s needed, or…or…fusion cuisine.

It’s playing without an understanding of the fundamentals of songwriting, and trying to pass it off as if you’re purposefully breaking the rules and bucking tradition.

Bob Dylan knew the rules, and broke them when it made for a better song. That’s what made him great. The Beatles, ditto.

I get the feeling there are a lot of artists coming out whose members don’t have an understanding of rock music’s roots before, say, Nirvana, or maybe David Bowie.

I’m looking at you, virtually every band from Brooklyn.

Anywho, the point, if it can be called that, is that I’m tired of all this ramshackle songwriting (apparently I’m perfectly okay with ramshackle regular writing). Having both a banjo and a Casiotone in your instrumentation, but not having a chorus in any of your songs, does not make you inventive.

I’m finding myself more drawn to well-crafted songs that simply, admirably, build off of our great musical traditions.

Which brings me to my current obsession, DC’s own Justin Jones.

There’s nothing really avant-garde about Jones’ music, but neither does it come off as a throwback. It’s classic folk/country songwriting, with a touch of soul music and a dark, modern lyrical edginess. His voice is gorgeously rich and just polished enough, and he shows a total mastery of inflection and emotive expression in his singing. The voice gets compared to John Mayer’s, which is apt, but here it’s put to much better use than the pap that made Mayer famous.

Jones is more compelling lyrically as well. There’s a darkness and a sensitivity here that feels honest and vulnerable. When, in the defeated breakup song “Dying With You,” the man who’s decided he must leave sings, “I know your secrets/and I know your lies/I know you hide from yourself every night/But I can’t be the only thing good in your life,” the regret at having to abandon his partner is palpable.

From his second record, Love Versus Heroin, “Hope” is a perfectly crafted song. Traditional in structure, lyrically simple, and extremely effective.

In the sprawling, expansive “Let’s Stay Together,” off the new …and i am the song of the drunkards, Jones tells of a damaged lover’s sudden epiphany, cleverly referencing the Al Green song of the same title (both lyrically and melodically) in the song’s climax.

Listen to “Hope” and “Let’s Stay Together” on his MySpace page. Then buy the records. They are exceptional. They’re the only thing that was able to break the spell Josh Small had on me.

Again, and assuming I have any readers remaining, sorry for the dearth of updates. I’ll try to do better in the future, but I’m not promising. I don’t owe you anything, Internet.

 

Fort Reno is For the Children

Last Thursday, sort of on a whim, I went to see Beauty Pill at Fort Reno.

Man I love that place. The grounds are small. The stage is small. The sound sucks; there’s nothing really that can be done about that, but that’s pretty much beside the point.

Fort Reno is for the kids, and they don’t care what the sound is like.

A little background: On the grounds of Fort Reno, the highest point in the city and the site of the only Civil War battle to take place within District boundaries, a free summer concert series has taken place for the last 40 years. For as long as I’ve been a music fan, the shows have tended to feature punk/indie bands and has been closely associated with Dischord. After all, the place is right across the street from Wilson High School, which was pretty much a punk rock prep school in the ’80s (Ian Mackaye is the most prominent among a host of DC punk legends to come out of Wilson.)

The concert series is run by the Northwest Youth Alliance. Please donate; they need help to keep up their wonderful work.

I went to a lot of shows at Fort Reno as a teenager. Fugazi played just about every year, the event of the summer for my friends and me and undoubtedly a technical and logistical nightmare for the organizers. The Dismemberment Plan played some big shows there too, and eventually I was excited to see various music-scene friends of mine playing some of their first shows on that legendary stage.

Among said friends were Bald Rapunzel, which brings us back to last Thursday’s show.

Drew Doucette played guitar in that band, and he’s now in Beauty Pill, an arty post-punk band led by Chad Clark (formerly of Smart Went Crazy).

They’re an intriguing band. Two drummers, bass, two guitars, keys, sometimes a skillet. The percussion alone can be mesmerizing, the two drummers in perfect sync and dueling fury; the angular guitars play call-and response. The vocals are mostly simple octaves and not a strong point for me. This often is a deal-breaker for me, and I’m not especially inclined to listen to their recordings, but the live show offers a lot of…post-Lou Reed appeal. It’s a fun spectacle to take in.

So, as has become a notorious recurrence at Ft. Reno (it is summer in Washington, after all,) it started to rain, literally a minute or two after Beauty Pill started tuning up.

The band never seemed to bat an eye, and neither did the crowd of young people who hustled up to the front of the stage as the music began to rise from the PA.

And I mean young. I was really excited to see so many teenagers at this show. They reminded me of what it was like to be a kid and to get such a charge out of going to see bands play.

They reveled in the rain. And so, it seemed, did the band, defiant against a couple of short-circuited amps and the threat of electric shock. Water splashed off the cymbals, the band got soaked, guitars were surely becoming nearly unplayable. And the band was smiling, and the crowd danced (danced!) and got soaked, and loved every minute of it.

It all felt really good, and seeing all those happy kids made me think that we still do have something special in this city’s music scene.

I’ll even forgive them for not recognizing Ian Mackaye onstage playing roadie, covering the band’s instruments with tarps.

 

What gives?

I spend a lot of time thinking about why it is that some bands in local/regional scenes have a huge amount of hype behind them while others, while well-respected, don’t enjoy the same level of press coverage and public ardor.

And I’ve realized that it’s more or less a crap shoot. It seems that it’s becoming more and more unpredictable- some immensely talented bands slave away without too much notice, and some bands, despite offering nothing more than very good executions of music we’ve already heard before, are touted as local legends.

Last night I went to the Black Cat to see These United States, who you know I love, opening for Middle Distance Runner and Georgie James. To me, the lineup felt backward. These US should be headlining any local bill they play in this city by now.

I was speaking with a friend, who plays in another extraordinary band that should have a higher profile in this city, and he put it about as well as I could hope to, calling These United States “Wilco good,” and a band that deserves to be much more prominent than it is.

I’m not naive. I realize that hooks and a pop sensibility are much more likely to get you noticed, even in “indie” or “local” music, than complexity and nuance.

But come on.

Georgie James is really good, no doubt about it. Middle Distance Runner, ditto. I don’t mean to slight them at all, but I have to wonder why it is that they’ve become two of the most hyped bands in this city as opposed to other bands that are at least as good. Hooks, pop sensibility, I know. And they’re talented; they deserve recognition.
But…

We have bands that are giving us something entirely unique and fascinating and intricate and, to me, irresistible, that aren’t receiving the same level of attention.

Often when listening to music, I find myself drawing parallels to the stuff I work with in my “real job,” wine.

I taste an awful lot of wine. Plenty of it is delicious, enjoyable and fun to consume. And I think to myself, fine, this is enjoyable, but why do I need to sell this as opposed to the hundreds of delicious, enjoyable, fun wines I already have?

I taste plenty of unique and interesting wines too, and I think to myself, fine, but do I need to sell this just because it’s unlike anything I’ve tasted before? Different doesn’t necessarily mean good.

And every once in a while, something special happens. I am faced with a wine that I can tell is giving me something valuable. It is a totally one-of-a-kind product that is made by people who put their hearts and souls into it, that reflects a whole world in a glass: the geology of the soil, the history and culture of the place where it is produced, the weather of the year in which it was grown; a whole and complete and totally new thing that wraps up a universe in one sip. And is irrestistably delicious to boot.

And my lament is the same- why do so many of these wines get overlooked in favor of simply delicious, or simply unique, wines that offer impact in place of resonance, a fleeting enjoyment in place of a rewarding experience?

That’s how I feel about These United States. They have a record , The Forest And The Garden, which from the tracks already made available, is going to be the same sort of rewarding thing- and it has yet to find a home.

What gives?

If Hardly Art, a label run by some of the guys from the legendary Sub Pop, signs Le Loup after three shows, there should be an all-out bidding war for These United States’ forthcoming record. I’m sure they’ve had offers, but apparently none have been good enough, and it’s frustrating to hear tracks like what’s on their MySpace page and know that there’s a magnificent record on the way, and that there isn’t a label that’s done what it takes to get it out there.

Okay, just a few thoughts on the matter.

I promise not to harp on the These United States topic anymore, for at least a few weeks.

 

The Fate of Internet Radio

Click on the banner to your right, and join the campaign to save internet radio.

Take a moment to familiarize yourself with the issue, courtesy of SaveNetRadio.org.

The bottom line is this: The Copyright Royalty Board, the group charged with assessing royalty charges paid by web radio broadcasters, ruled in March to slap royalty increases of 300 to 1200 percent on web broadcasters.

The sad truth is this: if this ruling is not reversed, the majority of internet radio stations will be bankrupted and silenced.

Those that remain will likely do so only through licensing deals with major record labels. In short, they’ll at best become clones of the traditional radio stations that you long ago stopped listening to after getting fed up with preprogrammed playlists of the same 10 hit songs.

Forget the brilliant Pandora. Forget every other web station playing a diverse and interesting blend of music.

With internet radio, we finally regained something of what we lost long ago in traditional radio.

And soon- on July 15th, when the ruling goes into effect- we could lose it all in one fell swoop.

Most web broadcasters are observing a day of silence today in order to raise awareness of the issue.

It’s a depressing sound. Please help keep it from becoming permanent.

 

¿Por Dónde Saldrá el Sol?: Manu Chao

I went to Merriweather Post Pavillion in Columbia, MD on Saturday night to see Manu Chao and Radio Bemba Sound System and f;lajfelk;jA;LSKDJFAEASE;L ajlk;sdf!!!!!!!!!!!!.

Excuse me. Let me give that another shot.

I went to Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, MD on Saturday night to see Manu Chao and Radio Bemba Sound System, and they proved once again to be one of the most infectious, cathartic, and hardest-rocking bands in show business right now.

Bebel Gilberto played early; sadly I missed her set. There were DJ sets from Ursula 1000, Nickodemus and Thunderball as well as a set by DC’s Thievery Corporation.

Thievery were neat. Lots of musicians. I find them intriguing, but something intangible about music rooted in electronica tends to turn me off, and I don’t have a good set of references to judge them by. They had some good guest musicians onstage throughout.

Manu Chao and the Radio Bemba Sound System thing feels like a whole different phenomenon in music. The French-born Spaniard Chao, whose grandfather escaped a death sentence from Franco by moving to France, is gigantic in Europe and Latin America, but his brief tour here last year was his first foray into the US in nearly a decade. The whole thing seems first and foremost to be a political exercise; most songs speak of poverty, the oppression of indigenous peoples in Latin America, economic globalization and the marginalization of immigrants in the US and Europe. Manu Chao has played a protest show at the G8 summit, and he went touring through Latin America on a boat, playing unannounced shows in little villages.

The music itself? On record, it’s a bizarre street-folk blend of mestizo folk, reggae, ska, Caribbean music, punk, Gypsy music, funk, rap, and spoken word, a background noise of movie clips and electronic video-game noise adding a schizophrenic atmosphere throughout. The lyrics are in Spanish, French, Portuguese, English, Arabic, or a blend thereof, whichever works for the song’s concept.

In concert?

Holy. Shit. Seriously?

Radio Bemba Sound System, for this tour, was a stripped-down six-member version of the band that accommodates up to 23 musicians. Two percussionists, bass, keyboards, guitar (all doing backing vocals), and Manu Chao on lead vocals and guitar.

As such, the show sounded more punk rock and less ska- and funk-influenced than the full onslaught with horn section. The songs are wholly reincarnated in the live show, a non-stop juggernaught of punk, metal, reggae, ska, gyspy folk music and whatever else has found its way into Manu Chao’s mind in his nomadic travels.

The music essentially doesn’t stop throughout the set; the songs segue into one another and sections of various songs are embedded into others as recurring themes in a sort of….(gasp)…jam band concept. The drums and Latin percussion are unreal in their intensity. There are sudden, heartstopping double-time breakouts followed by 10-beat pounding endings to many of the songs. There are few countoffs or even visible cues between members as the band charges relentlessly from one song to the next; relief comes in extended breakdowns and the occasional ballad. There are frequent call-and-response bits and infectious shouted chants.

This is as tight and practiced as bands get, and the effect is nearly narcotic.

As far as I’m concerned, this is a must-see spectacle. I waited years to see them, checking tour listings to no avail for almost two years while in Spain, searching for any show in Europe, and then finally saw them at Lollapalooza last year and again on Saturday.

It has been worth the wait. Of all the shows I’ve seen in recent years, the Radio Bemba Sound System experience is a rare opportunity that I count among the best I’ve had as a music fan.

More Info:

Interview and article in LA Weekly

 

Rock & Roll Hotel Makes Me Eat My Words- Illinois, Tallest Highest, The Beanstalk Library

I really gave it to the Rock & Roll Hotel in my last post, saying that “I’ve been burned too many times by terrible sound, and I’m finding it harder and harder to justify gambling a cover charge on shows that consistently disappoint.”

I threatened to make the Califone/The Bitter Tears/These United States show my last one at the venue, which for a long time had been disappointing me with terrible sound. While These US sounded great, Califone and The Bitter Tears struggled with feedback, muddled sound and an awful PA-popping bass drum.

I heard from R&R’s sound guy, Jeremy, and learned that those bands had used their own sound engineer, which explained why These US pulled off such a great sound, and I decided to give the venue another chance.

Pennsylvania’s Illinois headlined a show there on Tuesday, with Virginia’s Tallest Highest and local standouts The Beanstalk Library opening up. Jeremy was running the sound, and I was really glad to see that I’d have to reverse my position on the Hotel. They may have had their problems in the past, and a good bit of trouble at the Califone show, but if Monday night was any indication, the place has turned itself around. Everyone sounded really good, and I was more than a little relieved. Thank you, Rock & Roll Hotel. See you again soon.

My reason for venturing out to Northeast was to see Beanstalk; I wasn’t familiar with the other bands. (I have trouble keeping up with the indie kids and their new bands.)

And the band impressed me yet again, this time playing a focused set of material that concentrated on their country side. The piano ballad “Bleak House,” the opening track from their forthcoming record America At Night, was particularly good, and I was excited to hear “Without a Hitch,” a driving rock song I’m starting to think may be the album’s best.

Two things from the set really stood out to me though: an as-yet-untitled folk song performed mostly solo on acoustic guitar that really showed a mastery of simple folk songcraft and lyricism; and a beautiful country version of Elvis Costello’s “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” with lots of slide guitar.

The band once again had Tom Hnatow on hand, and the current lineup, with Brian Kent on guitar and vocals, John Rapoza on bass and backup vocals, and Mike Fellenbaum on drums joining singer/guitarist/keyboard player Ryan Walker, sounds tight and practiced.

Unfortunately, I didn’t see much of Tallest Highest. I hadn’t eaten dinner so I ran over to the Argonaut for a quick bite and didn’t make it back until they were nearly done. Sorry to miss the set, guys.

Illinois was the headliner, and they brought a decent, if unnervingly young crowd to the venue. There’s a good bit of buzz surrounding the band following their stint opening for The Hold Steady.

What I saw was some pretty good, infectious pop with a bit of quirk and an anthemic quality to the songs. They certainly had energy. But something wasn’t quite grabbing me.

The frontman, Chris Archibald, switching between banjo, guitar and keys, certainly seemed to believe his band was worth a listen. His onstage persona and enthusiastic crowd exhortations seemed more fit for, say, the Hold Steady than a band that had opened for them. I thought the band was pretty good, and I should hope that Archibald believes they’re great, but this particular attendee found his bravado just a bit off-putting in a 2/3 full Rock & Roll Hotel.

That said. I found the band pretty engaging, with a raucous but contained tunefulness and plenty of hooks. I just thought there was a bit of swagger coming from a band that’s still new and, Hold Steady opening slot or no, still paying dues as far as I’m concerned.

All in all, it was a fun Monday night, and the big story for me is that the Rock & Roll Hotel, happily, seems to have finally found its groove. The sound there can be as good as in any other venue of its size in Washington, and I’m glad to see it.

 

These US Rock, Rock & Roll Hotel Infuriates Me, Exit Clov and Beanstalk Kill IOTA

It’s been a good few days in Washington, with some of the city’s best bands and the great lo-fi Califone playing shows. A roundup:

On Saturday, I went to the Rock & Roll Hotel for the first time in quite a while, and possibly for the last time. Unfortunately, despite what I’d heard, sound problems continue to plague the otherwise fantastic venue. I really, really want to like this place, a large two-level club that serves as the anchor of the burgeoning “Atlas District” along H St. NE. But I’ve been burned too many times by terrible sound, and I’m finding it harder and harder to justify gambling a cover charge on shows that consistently disappoint. And judging from the lack of established local acts in their calendar, I’m guessing a lot of bands here feel the same way.

Dear Rock & Roll Hotel: Please. Fix the sound problems. Do whatever it takes. Give us a reason to let you back into our lives.

Love, everyone.

What’s maddening is that I now know the place can sound great. Exhibit A: These United States’ set opening for Califone on Saturday. What I heard was that they had their own sound guy. Whatever it was, it worked. The band- Jesse Elliott on vox/guitar, Tom’s pedal steel and guitar, drums, bass, Winston Yu’s mandolin and fiddle, and guest Laura Burhenn from Georgie James- sounded lush and rich.

These US keep reworking their songs with every performance, and on Saturday they played especially gorgeous versions of “Remember Dear,” “What Do You Want With My Heart?” and “Slow Crows Over.” Yu’s fiddle and mandolin playing is the band’s not-so-secret weapon, the fiddle lending texture and layers to the sound and the mandolin, often with a bit of delay, adding percussive melodic nuances. Burhenn’s keys sounded great, and her sunny voice was a great counterpoint to Elliott’s weathered rasp.

These US wrapped it up, I shuffled off to the bar, met back up with my friends 20 minutes later, and THE WHOLE THING WENT TO SHIT.

First, Chicago’s The Bitter Tears came out. I’m just not going to comment on them, except to say that that’s when the Rock & Roll Hotel’s sound imploded. The club’s most familiar problem- feedback from the monitor (heh. That’s my tagline.) arrived, followed by a brand spanking new one: the kick drum sounding like it’s ripping a speaker cone from every bit of PA in the house. No speakers were actually blown; I think it was a problem with the mic itself, but that’s what it sounded like.

I ran upstairs with my friends to play some pool. The Bitter Tears, troopers that they are, continued doing what they do.

Califone was the headliner, playing to a fairly packed house. They play a sort of atmospheric lo-fi ramble, and while the live show is a bit more meandering than I expected- including a couple of long stretches of Lou Reed and Sonic Youth-inspired drone- they played admirably. The Bitter Tears reemerged as Califone’s capable horn section.

What’s frustrating is that I know this band can sound great, even majestic. But the sound was muddled, and the Exploding Kick Drum returned, along with the feedback into the monitor. Imagine playing a show, for hundreds of people, with humming feedback blasting into your ears from the speaker that’s supposed to be reflecting what the audience is hearing. The band was obviously unhappy, but performed as best they could. Hats off to them. Please come back, guys. I swear Washington has venues that don’t sound like the caterwauling of a thousand banshees.

{UPDATE: These United States had Jeremy, the in-house sound engineer, working their set. And as I said, they sounded great. Califone and The Bitter Tears had a touring engineer with them, who perhaps didn’t know the venue, or…something. I am a mere layperson and can’t offer a really educated speculation on what happened.

If Jeremy’s excellent work with These US is more indicative of what the club sounds like nowadays, and the remainder of the show was an anomaly caused by a sound guy who didn’t know the venue, then apologies are in order to the R&R Hotel. I’ll wait and see. Thanks to Jeremy for the information.}

Movin’ on.

Monday night, at the venerable IOTA in that one state to the south of us that took land back from DC and made the diamond look all screwy.

The Beanstalk Library was three songs into their set when I arrived, and sounding really good. They decided to play a game called “Let’s See How Many People We Can Fit Onto IOTA’s Stage.” Tom Hnatow, of These United States and a million other projects, sat in on pedal steel, Brett from Exit Clov played keys and guitar throughout the set, his bandmates Emily and Susan played violin on a couple of songs, someone whose name I can’t recall added solid trumpeteering, and Natalie Tedder sang backup on the sprawling and beautiful “All The World Is New,” filling in nicely for Keli Burke.

They had nine people onstage at one point. Pompous bastards! It was great.

Standouts from the set included a beautiful ballad called “It Has Made All The Difference,” the energetic “Elephantitis,” complete with trumpet, and the set’s closer- Neil Young’s “Everybody Knows.”

These guys continue to impress me. They have a warm sound that strikes a good balance between professionally polished and loose. Their expansive live show could have comfortably accommodated even more musicians on stage last night- but I don’t think there were any left in the room. They’re releasing an album, America At Night, this month. It sounds like a good old-fashioned rock record, capturing a live-performance feel with some great atmospheric accents.

Next up, from New Orleans came The Eames Era. Their tight, well-executed and upbeat power pop won over some fans with a relentless barrage of hooks, but wasn’t really the kind of stuff I find myself drawn to. Listening to their stuff on MySpace is actually more interesting to me than the live show- it sounds a bit like….Tilly and the Wall maybe?

Exit Clov was the headliner. After such a….triumphant Beanstalk set, I think they knew they were gonna have to bring in all of the noise as well as all of the funk. (I don’t know what that means.)
So they tried to melt our faces. Playing to a friendly crowd, the band performed with an intensity I’m not sure I’ve yet seen from them. An extra-menacing version of “The Hate” led into the swirling buildup of “District Menagerie,” the band steadily gathering steam. The set was very good in its balance of harder-edged material with softer songs, raising the energy level and transitioning to quieter songs to great effect. Every song was powerful last night- the band had its groove throughout the set.

ESPECIALLY DURING THE HUNGARIAN GYPSY SONG.

The Hungarian gypsy song.

Toward the end of the set, and by way of informing the audience just how good a group of musicians they are, Exit Clov played a version of the traditional Hungarian dance song Csárdás. This arrangement was a variation of the version by Vittorio Monti, with 5 tempo variations and which Wikipedia describes as “quite virtuosic.” I describe it as “Emily and Susan Hsus’ violins making my brain explode.” It starts on a slow, pensive melodic line with sweeping violins, then shifts tempos and whips into a frenzy, with lightning-quick strings creating a fervored suspense before collapsing back into a variation of the opening part. It does this a couple of times; the effect is spellbinding.

Of note:

- Guitarist Aaron Leeder has added a new toy to his collection of pedals and gizmos. It’s called a “chaos box,” and that’s what it does.

- Drummer John Thayer has decided that an empty propane tank will now have a place in his kit. At least I’m assuming it was empty.

- Seriously, Rock & Roll Hotel. Fix the damned sound.

 

Celebrating Rock in Washington, Pt. Two: Best of the Current Crop

I’ve got a lot of nostalgia for the “old,” post-punk music scene in Washington. And as I mentioned in the last post, there was a cohesiveness and a tightness in the community then that I don’t think we’re going to see again.

But the rock scene in our city, after what I think was a pretty long lull following the breakups of most of the “important” post-punk bands here, is resurgent and once again very exciting. It’s also probably more diverse than it was then, with a lot of bands doing a lot of very interesting things. There are pockets, or “mini-scenes” around the city of groups that tend to play together, but that’s as far as we get toward a close community or a clear “DC sound”. This may be partially a result of the city’s having emerged from the shadow of Fugazi and the bands that were directly inspired by them. This being the transient city that it is, many of the rock musicians playing here today, especially the younger ones, were not here during that band’s heyday.

So we have a lot of bands with very different sounds and different aspirations. I’m especially inspired by the rootsy, folksy music being made by the bands on the excellent new Gypsy Eyes Records and some of the bands included in a loose collective of musicians calling themselves the Federal Reserve. There are also some very, very tight young bands playing various quirky indie-pop styles, and there are some fantastic singer-songwriters here. There’s just a lot to see right now.

Here’s a roundup of the bands I think are making some of the best music in DC right now, in order of…well, when I think of them. This list might be different if I did it last month, or even next week, but I thought I might list some of my current favorites.

{Note: there are some very prominent local rock artists missing from this list. Some I just haven’t listened to yet, some have seemed less active of late, and others, their popularity notwithstanding, just kind of….blow. In my humble opinion.}

There’s a lot of material here; peruse at your leisure and give each of these guys a good listen.

These United States

For my money, this is probably the best band in the city right now. Behind it is Jesse Elliott, who I’m becoming more and more convinced is one of the best songwriters in the country, period. At its heart, this is an often languid Americana-influenced, folksy and jangly thing. The recordings are full of atmosphere and layers, and the live show is anything from Jesse with guitar to a full band including banjo, slide, cowbell, and a whole bunch of other stuff in addition to the traditional setup. The effect is a sort of mesmerizing subtlety, under which Elliott slips a beat-poetic lyrical style full of sneaky internal rhymes, alliteration and hauntingly brilliant turns of phrase.

Go, immediately, to their MySpace page. Listen to “Slow Crows Over” and “The Business.” And I’ll see you tomorrow, June 9, at the Rock & Roll Hotel where they’ll be playing with the similarly atmospheric folksters Califone.

Jukebox the Ghost

A Jukebox song actually woke me up once. Early one morning, I literally bolted upright with “Hold It In” stuck in my head.

This is a very tight, massively talented trio. Every musician is fantastic. Ben Thornewill on vocals and piano, Tommy Siegel on guitar and vocals, Jesse Kristin on drums; they write a quirky, clever but honest sort of intricate pop song and have a penchant for dramatic breaks and sudden changes. The Ben Folds comparisons are inevitable, the Queen and They Might Be Giants references are apt. There’s also a good chunk of Billy Joel in here. Though this is a young band that still wears some influences on their sleeves, they’re building a unique sound and they are one to watch. This is catchy, funny, nearly Vaudevillean pop, but there’s a serious edge to the songwriting and a thoughtfulness in the lyrics. Ben’s vocals can soar in operatic flourishes, and his classical piano training has left him way overqualified for rock music.

The live show is invariably a blast; these guys love what they’re doing. And they’re really, really damn good at it.

Listen to “Hold It In.” I apologize in advance if it burrows into your brain and sets up camp for the next month or so. Then check out Ben’s gorgeous solo material on his MySpace page, in particular “The Beauty of Absolutes.”

Exit Clov

These guys have been working hard, doing a lot of touring, local shows and recording. They have an interesting dynamic at play, with a slightly jammy, very tight drums/bass/guitar trio fronted by two female vocalists who take turns on keys, violin, and guitar. The girls, Emily and Susan Hsu, are twin sisters and the striking effect of their harmonies is defined in part by the affinity between their lilting voices. Their melodies are catchy and take a good bit from ’80s pop; this plays against the often dark, intense sound crafted by Aaron Leeder (guitar,) Brett Niederman (bass) and John Thayer (drums).

The songs are complex and layered, but nearly always have an irresistible hook or two. Though they are very good at writing big, intricate and anthemic songs, lately they’ve demonstrated a real prowess for softer, more serious material as well as straight-up dance rock; this is a band that is experimenting and maturing quickly. The Hsus’ vocals in particular seem to get stronger with each recording and performance. Check out “MK Ultra” and the new “Kindest Creatures” on their MySpace page to get a feel for the band’s range.

These guys really come into their own in a live setting. They’re all formidable musicians, and just watching Leeder and Thayer try to kill their respective instruments is entertainment enough for an evening. June 11th, they’ll be at IOTA with The Beanstalk Library (see a couple of blurbs below.)

Benjy Ferree

I love Benjy Ferree. His music is kind of an odd folk, perhaps played by a cheerful gyspy. It’s irresistible, the songs built on tight hooks and a loose jangle of guitars, fiddle, cello and harmonica backed by a solid rhythm section. Benjy’s voice is just raspy enough to blend seamlessly into the mix. There’s something refreshing to me about his music; it sounds like a road trip in a old convertible through sleepy towns in America. Check out “Desert,” from last year’s “Leaving the Nest.”

The live band is Jonah Takazi on bass, Drew Mills on guitar, Laura Jean on drums and the prolific Amy Domingues (who’s played with everyone from Ted Leo to Fugazi in addition to being a solo artist in her own right) on cello and guitar. It’s a tight ensemble; I saw them play for a second time a few days ago. They have a great energy onstage- members are often singing along, whether they’re behind a microphone or not.

Good things are coming Ferree’s way; he’s been signed to the UK’s Domino Records (home of Franz Ferdinand, Arctic Monkeys and others.)

The Beanstalk Library

This is a band that, right now, is “quite good.” But I think there’s a truly great band emerging; they blew me away at a recent DC9 show. The songs take cues from The Band and a number of other greats that existed before their time, but frontman Ryan Walker’s warm vocal style is convincing and honest- the band means it, and this doesn’t feel like an artificially nostalgic pretense.

Woah, now, I’m not saying that the band doesn’t sound current- it does; they just have an affection for the legends of past decades. There are some art-rock accents to the excellent spacey ballad “All The World Is New,” and “Fake It” is kind of like a taut pop-rock tune with an echoey slide guitar buried underneath it. This is a young band with an awful lot of promise. Go see them, along with Exit Clov, at IOTA on the 11th. It’s going to be a phenomenal show.

Shortstack

This is one of the bands on the newish Gypsy Eyes Records. Their sound has an immediate impact- they sound kind of like Satan’s own rockabilly band, a Southern Gothic aesthetic coming so convincingly out of these refugees from the indie/punk scene that it’s disorienting. They manage to channel artists like Leadbelly and have it not come off like a gimmick. Their latest record, The History of Cut Nails in America, sounds fantastic. The intense “Wiseblood” and the somehow demonic “Offer Still Stands” from their MySpace page will give you a good idea of what to expect.

This is a band you’ve got to see live. They take the stage as unassuming as anything, singer/guitarist Adrian Carroll and slide player Burleigh Seaver sitting in chairs, and suddenly you feel like you’re in a burning barn somewhere, a chaotic swirl of nasty blues riffs wrapped in a frenzied rush of slide guitar, throbbing upright bass and pounding drums. Their next show: June 21st at Olsson’s Books, which isn’t the ideal setting but will have to hold us off until we can see them properly, whiskey in hand, at the Black Cat on August 10th.

Alfonso Velez

Velez was the frontman of a fairly grandiose pop-rock band here called Monopoli. That band was very, very good at what it did, but to be perfectly honest I wasn’t a huge fan of theirs.

That band broke up, by which time Velez was already playing some solo gigs around town. I came across this before ever seeing Monopoli, and I was floored. His voice is perfectly polished, sounding a bit like Chet Atkins, and he plays a sublime bluesy, folk-tinged music with a real sense of nuance and flair. More recently, he’s put together a very tight band and finished an excellent recording complete with horn section. It comes off authentic, but with just enough show-biz pomp to suggest he’s setting his sights beyond a local scene. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, he is planning a move to New York, so we don’t expect to call him a local boy too much longer.

Check out “Transfer Blues” and “Isabelle’s Jinx” on his MySpace page.