Can't Hardly Wait

As I've likely mentioned at least once on this blog, The Replacements are one my favorite bands. Not just at this moment, or when I first discovered them in high school, but a band I return to over and over again, year after year. They are one of the only bands whose albums I know back to front, front to back. At some point (before the age of iPods), I bought nearly of all their CDs-- even though I already owned the vinyl--so that I could put them into a 5-disc changer, hit "shuffle", and listen for hours on end.

Though there are countless reasons why I love this band, my perennial enthusiasm has something to do with Paul Westerberg's lyrics--his songs have an adult acuity sung in an adolescent idiom.

Listen to a live version of Paul Westerberg playing the 'Mats song "Left of the Dial."

From L to R: Bob Stinson, Tommy Stinson, Chris Mars, Paul Westerberg

So, here then is a list of my top eleven Replacements' lyrics. Eleven; random, I know. I found it difficult to narrow it down, and these aren't even necessarily my favorite songs. This list is for no particular reason, maybe just because it's Friday. If you want to add your own favorite Replacements' lyrics, please do.

If bein' wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever
If bein' strong's your kind, then I need help here with this feather
If bein' afraid is a crime, we hang side by side
At the swingin' party down the line
-Swingin' Party

I could live without so much
I can die without a clue
Sun keeps risin' in the west
I keep on wakin' fully confused
-Within Your Reach

Jesus rides beside me
He never buys any smokes
Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff
Ashtray floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes
-Can't Hardly Wait

Here come Dick, he's wearing a skirt
Here comes Jane, y'know she's sporting a chain
Same hair, revolution
Same build, evolution
Tomorrow who's gonna fuss
And they love each other so
Androgynous
-Androgynous

The ones who love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest
And visit their graves on holidays at best
The ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please
If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them
-Bastards of Young

Seen your video, the phony rock 'n' roll
We don't want to know, seen your video
-Seen Your Video

I never travel far, without a little Big Star
-Alex Chilton

And the sign says, "Thank you very much for not smoking"
My own sign says, "I'm sorry, I'm smokin'"
Don't treat me special, don't kiss my ass
Treat me like the way they treat 'em up in first class
-Waitress in the Sky

I'm not ready as I'll ever be
I climb the walls, I fall into the sea
I'm not ready as I'll ever be
And I suppose your guess is more or less as bad as mine
All over but the shouting, just a waste of time
-Nevermind

How young are you?
How old am I?
Let's count the rings around my eyes
How smart are you?
How dumb am I?
-I Will Dare

C'mon, let's make a scene
Oh, baby, don't be so mean
They're all watchin' us
Kiss me on the bus
If you knew how I felt now
You wouldn't act so adult now
Hurry, hurry, here comes my stop
-Kiss Me On The Bus

1:55 AM ET | 03-28-2008 | permalink

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Bon Iver, Melting Our Cold Hearts

On Monday night I saw Bon Iver play at Holecene in Portland. I had seen them play at SXSW but I wanted to view them in a different context, away from that strange beast of hype and amazement and anticipation that music festivals create.

Justin Vernon of Bon Iver.

The Portland crowd was full of love (and beer), and from the moment Justin Vernon and his bandmates took the stage, the audience hung on every note, in-between song banter, and a flood of feedback. I am not exaggerating when I say that people cried. Bon Iver's songs are delicate but they are not soft; the comfort in them is fleeting, their beauty uneven. In the live setting the songs are wilder, they screech and veer towards chaos before closing in on themselves. Vernon's voice is part songbird, part howl, and it is fearless. The chemistry between the players was fantastic, their delivery earnest and often dire. Whatever that strange magic is that certain people possess, Vernon has it. But both during songs and between them, singing or talking, he is himself: grateful, humble, aware of the moment.

On of my favorite non-musical moments was when someone from the crowd yelled, "F**k Jens Lekman!" The comment was in response to our local weekly having set up an ersatz rivalry between Lekman and Bon Iver, who were playing on the same night. Vernon's response was, "What? No! That guy is on our label". Whoops. I guess a little research is needed before you drunkenly yell out what you think is a compliment.

And since we've been talking about fans, I should add that Bon Iver's fans are pretty great, at least in Portland. We were even asked to sing along to "The Wolves (Act I and II)", and though this request usually makes me cringe, I sort of enjoyed it (though I didn't actually sing. Does mouthing the words count?).

Anyway, if you haven't already heard it, listen to Bon Iver's song "Skinny Love" or stream the entire album here (thanks, Rick).

You can also hear a full concert by Bon Iver, from NPR Music's SXSW series.

12:09 PM ET | 03-26-2008 | permalink

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Save Me From Your Followers

Are there any bands you love but whose fans you fear? Is there a band message board you are afraid to comment on because the people on that board are nutjobs? Or, are you or were you one of those fans and do you wish everyone else could just understand?

After attending more shows in one week than I would usually go to in a year (a.k.a. SXSW), I've been thinking about music fans and fandom. First and foremost, I am a fan of music. I've been a fan from the first time my dad put on a Joni Mitchell album, or I sung along to "Rocky Raccoon" (thinking at the time that it must be children's music), played 'air keyboard' on a table along to Fleetwood Mac, or hung an Elvis poster on my wall (about 25 years too late but I didn't know, or care). Since grade school, I've been obsessed with music--with the melodies, harmonies, choruses, riffs, rhythms, lyrics, and with the mystery of it all, that magical element whose solution is always just beyond our grasp. And I'm guessing this love for music makes me similar to a lot of you.

Most of my musical obsessions were quiet ones, known only to a few friends and to the walls of my teenage bedroom; walls poked with thumbtacks bearing the weight of a band poster, only to be removed a few months later, replaced by something new. The Clash and Ramones gave way to the B-52's, which gave way to the Stone Roses, and then finally it all ended with Fugazi (which is to say that I left for college and never again put a band poster on my walls.)

I never baked cookies or wrote letters to bands, never waited after the show to meet the members, never shook a hand or asked for a guitar pick or an autograph, I never even brought a camera to a show. I just wanted to be at the show and be able to talk about it later. Much of my fandom was tied up in the process of collecting: fliers, handbills, LPs and 7" singles, fanzine and magazine interviews, stories about the bands from friends of friends. The rest of my obsession involved deciphering lyrics, mostly Replacements songs, words that meant more to me than those by any other band. Ultimately, my love for bands consisted of a language with which to communicate with friends, a secret code made up of band t-shirts and stickers, lyrics scribbled on notebooks, and ticket stubs.

And yet it is this secret code, this common bond among fans, which often becomes obnoxious en masse. The fans might not change your love for the bands themselves, but the way fandom of certain artists manifests itself can seem less like an innocuous gathering of like-minded people and more like an elitist, annoying tribe. (I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near my friends and I during our Fugazi or Bikini Kill listening days; admittedly, we were not very fun).

Today, the fans I have a hard time being around are the ones who deem their favorite bands precious, just shy of saintly, and evidence of their sophisticated taste in music. (Belle & Sebastian, Radiohead, and Magnetic Fields). Then there are the bands that, unfortunately, attract such a hipster fan base (like MGMT, Yeasayer, and Liars) that you want to attend the show wearing a fleece jacket, khaki slacks, hiking boots, and a fanny pack, then push your way to the front and line dance, except that you worry people will think it's ironic.

I can't really come down too harshly on the various ways fans express themselves. Sure, Deadheads, Parrotheads, and Claymates might be threatening, or even excruciating, but we've all been part of the crowd, and we chose to be there, even if we didn't fit in.

3:31 PM ET | 03-24-2008 | permalink

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Remembering Tomorrow

As many or most of you have heard, The Raconteurs have decided to forgo the pro forma step of sending out advance copies of their upcoming album, and instead, make it available to everyone on the same day. That day happens to be March 25th.

According to the band, "the Raconteurs would rather this release not be defined by its first-week sales, pre-release promotion or by someone defining it FOR YOU before you get to hear it."

Certainly, The Raconteur's new model allows the experience of listening to their album to be (potentially) un-mediated by a third party--namely critics. But that is sort of saying that the discourse surrounding music and the music itself are of equal importance; it puts a lot of weight on the words. In actuality, no amount of talk (or writing) about an album can emulate the actual experience of listening to it; reading comments and criticism beforehand might affect your expectations but not the experience with the album itself; when that moment comes, it is about you and the songs.

I find it interesting that most of the discussion has revolved around how artists and labels are working to reconfigure or redefine the idea of releasing an album. Certainly, the reception of a record and how it is presented might help get people to listen, go see a live show, or to a lesser extent, actually purchase an album--but what actually feels important to me is what happens after an album is released, and whether it will outlast its given moment in time. All of the chatter, hype, or buzz before an album comes out, or surrounding a band, is all but forgotten in the subsequent years. What remains is the music, and only then if it's worth remembering.

Rolling Stone magazine, in reviewing a band's entire catalog, will often assign an album a different amount of stars than the publication did when the album was first released. For example, Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain received 4 stars in 1994 and 5 stars a decade later, when the album was revisited (and reissued). Beck's Odelay got the same treatment. I find myself making the same kind of revisions: mentally re-ranking albums or bands, liking ones I never used to, disliking others I formerly enjoyed.

Yet there seems to be so much pressure on the right here and right now. If we know our affection is apt to mutate over time, what is this rush to love, to praise, or to deplore? Maybe it's that the next thing comes along so quickly. Our affections, or the entire process of discovery, have to move at the speed of the rest of our lives, which is to say rapidly. The fear, I suppose, is that technology is negatively shaping not only the way we talk about music but also the way we listen to it. I'd like to think it's only the commentary that is fleeting, that despite being capable of musical tourism, we will still listen to what moves us long after the discussion surrounding it ceases.

In other words, if the Raconteurs album is good, it doesn't matter who hears it when or who utters the first words in regards to how it sounds.

As a side note, want to know how boring talking about music blogging can be for other people? Check out this drawing someone made during a SXSW panel I was on about blogs. I am second in from the right. FYI, I was not wearing a headband nor do I have a bald patch.

3:47 AM ET | 03-20-2008 | permalink

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Silence, Please

My five days at SXSW are over. I'm relieved to be writing this entry from my home in Portland, with the dogs beside me, looking out on a cloudy day.

I left for the Austin-Bergstrom airport this morning at 5 am, an hour that became my normal bedtime at SXSW. After seeing anywhere from six to ten bands a day, it was nearly impossible to immediately fall asleep. I wasn't coherent enough to write, but the various sounds and images from the day formed a mental static that took a few hours to dissipate

In the end, here's what left an impression, music or otherwise:

Lack of ear plugs--When you are given a SXSW tote bag containing 5 pounds of leaflets, worthless promo CDs, 6 packs of gum, and playing cards--it would have been thoughtful to throw in a pair of ear plugs. I'm sure some label would have paid to have their name on the small carrying case. Certainly, the onus is on us to get our own, but it seemed a strange oversight. (And earplugs are more useful than the action figure we received depicting a soldier playing guitar, a recruitment tool by the US Army).

D.I.Y--Everyone from Vampire Weekend to Thurston Moore were lugging around their own equipment. In the case of the latter, Moore didn't bring his own sound guy or guitar tech (both which are pro forma, along with a dozen other crew members, on a Sonic Youth tour). The more casual approach to performance added an intimacy and spontaneity to Thurston's band's performance at the Garden Party, an event that took place on the beautiful grounds of the French Legation Museum. The stripped down versions of certain performers also drew a line in the sand between bands/artists that really know how to play, rising above technical maladies and malfunctions, and the bands that can't pull off what they do without a bit of spectacle.

Blogger Cage--An actual space but also a state of mind. There were two of these at the Paste/Stereogum party. I'm almost certain that during every other week of the year these cages host dancers, which made it even more bizarre to see goatee-sporting men wearing band t-shirts furiously typing away while we looked on. Sadly, no one tipped any money.

Inspiration--With so much to see, I found that I needed at least one moment a day that reminded me why I love music. It didn't have to be a mind-blowing performance (though sometimes it was: Bon Iver's set at the Parish, My Morning Jacket doing eight new songs). Sometimes it was merely seeing J. Mascis' silver hair or X looking gleeful to get me through the long days. Even my friend recounting that he stumbled into a half-filled room only to realize he was watching Mick Jones' new band, Carbon/Silicon, and how happy Jones looked despite the poor turnout, was enough to make me glad to be in Austin. There were a lot of bands at SXSW existing outside the glare of the press, the sun, the stares, who were still doing it because something inside of them has to play music.

I saw enough bands at SXSW to last me an entire year. I think I'll listen to classical music all week and finish reading the book I thought I would read in Austin. Who was I kidding?

Cross posted to the All Songs blog.

11:18 PM ET | 03-16-2008 | permalink

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Vampire Times X

This afternoon I went to the Spin party to see X. The band played all of the hits, from 'Los Angeles' to 'We're Desperate'. John Doe, always the storyteller, told the audience that 'Nausea' was how we'd feel after the amount of beer we'd all been drinking and that 'Motel Room In My Bed' is where we'd be when we woke up feeling sick. (For the record, I was drinking ice tea, which is how I understood what he was saying).

Before X were Vampire Weekend, who I saw yesterday at The Parish. It's a shame so many people left after Vampire Weekend and missed X's show. VF are a fun band to watch, but I find their live performance (and songs) overly considered and, frankly, lacking much soul or passion. I could listen to their record over and over, dance to it, enjoy it, but it will never move me. But I suppose music, like other forms of art, serves different purposes. If Vampire Weekend are a summer beach read, then good for them for delivering the warm weather a few months early.

I also caught Times New Viking, one of the bands I'd been hoping to see at SXSW. Their albums are lo-fi with the treble turned up to 10. Live, they have a heavier guitar sound, which I prefer to the thinner tones. There is always an element of surprise when you first see a live band, your expectations bump up against realities, and you have more senses with which to marry the musical experience. What I first noticed about Times New Viking was that their drummer is the main singer and front-person. With maybe the exception of Levon Helm in the Band (sorry Genesis and Eagles), I always find that when drummers sing lead, the energy of the band is tilted in a strange and disorienting direction. But Times New Viking's music is so forward moving and fast, I didn't care about how off-center or imbalanced the stage set-up seemed. In fact, it forced the keyboardist/singer and guitarist to turn inwards, which only intensified the dynamic. Plus, all their songs are around two minutes. In some ways, I wish every band at SXSW had only 20 minutes to play. That's two songs by the incredible My Morning Jacket and ten songs by the sonic blink that is Times New Viking.

(If you haven't already, check out the live taping NPR did of My Morning Jacket. That is one amazing live band--lot's of jamming and eight new songs.)

8:51 PM ET | 03-14-2008 | permalink

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My SXSW Name, At Least For Now

Considering how tired I am on this Thursday morning, I had to go with C.B. Grumbleton.

To be honest, my favorite was Blogstein, and after I've had a bit more coffee, I'll probably regret not going with that one.

Right now I am listening to The Shout Out Louds playing live at The Parish on 6th Street in Austin. I am so relieved to be talking on-air about bands I am actually excited to see. During last night's broadcast (REM, Dead Confederate), I felt like an announcer at the Olympics. I turned some embarrassing phrases that all sounded like they would fit in at a Speed Skating event, or that follow one of those human interest stories they play during Olympic broadcasts to make you care about the difficult life of, say, a gymnast. "Anna slept in a paper bag for the for the five years of her life in order to get her used to the rigor and discomfort of the high beam. The first time she felt cotton was when a trainer cleaned her bleeding knee with a Q-Tip. Today, Anna--4'4"--is a happy and healthy girl. This is her first time at the Olympics".

Anyhow, the crowd is still filtering into the room. It seems like a lot of industry types. I hope for the sake of the bands that we get some regular folks in here. Fans whose faces light up when they hear the first note of their favorite song, who notice that the singer is wearing a different shirt than he was last night, who care when the band spontaneously changes a lyric, and whose bodies naturally sway and twitch and delight at the sounds and sights before them.

You can listen to the concert right now and it will be up later on the NPR website.

Pictured below. Me, sleepy-eyed and newly named.

1:37 PM ET | 03-13-2008 | permalink

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Identity Crisis

All of us NPR folks will be posting on the All Songs blog this week
Click here to see NPR's full coverage of SXSW

I know what you were thinking when you read the title of this post--that I am feeling weird about being at SXSW as a reporter as opposed to as a musician. Well, that's not the case, at least not yet.

What I do feel weird about is that I've been given this NPR name tag, and while everyone else's has their name printed on it, mine is blank. It was suggested that I write in my name with a Sharpie. But how unofficial is that? People are going to think I am trying to sneak into shows, or get backstage. Maybe I should get a fake driver's license while I'm at it, forge a diploma from Harvard, or put a "degree" on the wall of my office and practice medicine.

So, now that I could basically be anyone at SXSW, and since at some point I do have to scribble a name onto this tag, I might as well take this opportunity to be someone else. I'll put the question to you. As I walk around Ausin working for the venerable NPR, who should I be?

I will promptly put the winning suggestion onto this blank NPR name tag, take a picture of myself wearing it, then get to work.

2:17 PM ET | 03-12-2008 | permalink

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Leaving The Fleece At Home

I left Portland, Oregon to travel to the Portland of Texas. I arrived in Austin Tuesday evening via Houston, where we picked up a slew of skinny black jean wearing men and women. I tried to figure out who was in what band, but when the young guy sitting next to me looked like a member of The Left Banke, I knew it could not be so.

This is my third time at SXSW but my first time as an ambassador for National Public Radio. I am taking my new role quite seriously. I was given some strict guidelines by the NPR powers that be: No stripper heels (apparently they interfere with broadcasting, similar to how we have to turn off all electronic devices during a plane's take off and landing), no torn jeans unless they reveal a Carl Kassell tattoo, no midriff baring shirts (is there any other kind?), no facial tattoos that aren't literary based, and I can only drink micro-brews. In fact, I am not allowed to mention that I work for NPR if I've had more than two drinks. If I've had more than five drinks, I have to say I'm here with the BBC. Last but not least, no one is allowed to make direct eye contact with Bob Boilen. When I met him for the first time tonight, I tried to conjure those sighted actors playing blind characters on bad TV shows; I looked all around but never right at him.

Never the less, it should make for an interesting week and I am very happy to be here.

Though I didn't take in any pre-SXSW shows, I did walk around with my cohorts this evening, pondering how in addition to the 1700 bands playing the festival, there is always room for a bar band (of which we passed by many, crammed into window sills that doubled as stages). And why shouldn't the bar bands still play? After we all leave at the end of the week, someone has to keep the music going.

FYI. Most of my Monitor Mix posts will be on the main NPR blog during this week.

From L to R. Bob Boilen, Carrie Brownstein, Stephen Thompson, Robin Hilton

1:17 AM ET | 03-12-2008 | permalink

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The Ladyhawk Interview

A few months ago I discovered a band called Ladyhawk. An advance copy of their latest CD, Shots, arrived in a package bearing the stamp of a record label whose curatorial prowess I'd grown to both admire and to anticipate. The back cover of the CD depicted four, shirtless, hairy men drenched in what looked like beer. Though I haven't blown up that picture to the size of a poster to hang on my bedroom wall, I have become a huge fan of Ladyhawk. In all honesty, and without exaggeration, I've listened to Shots nearly every day.

I love all sorts of music, and all genres, but my heart lies in the gritty and the gutteral; in the bend of a guitar note, in the scratchy strain of a voice, and in the the stripped down honesty, and odyssey, of words, guitars, and drums.

All of which are elements that make the new Ladyhawk album so great.

I spoke with guitarist/singer/songwriter Duffy Driediger over the phone from his home in Vancouver, BC.

Carrie Brownstein: When do you start the tour for your record?

Duffy Driediger: We're starting March 12th. We're driving all the way across the States to get to eastern Canada. We're going to do a bunch of shows out there and then make our way west with Black Mountain through Canada. Then do the States after that.

CB: For those who haven't done it, what's the difference between driving across Canada and the US? Why would you come down and drive across the States?

DD: I'm glad you asked me that. Canada has basically the Trans-Canada Highway, which is the one road that goes through all of Canada. It's a two-lane highway. If you go through Canada you have to go up and around the Great Lakes. There's moose and deer crossing and you have to stop for those.

CB: Why is it important for you to start your tour in Canada?

DD: It's mostly so we could do those dates with Black Mountain. We're good friends with those guys and we've toured with them before. We do a lot better in Canada than we do in the States, there are lots more people at our shows, we're more well known. It makes sense for us to make a bunch of cash before we head out into the barren wastes of middle America where there are two or three people at a show.

CB: I want to ask you about sequencing. Is there an album whose sequencing you admire or a ormula you try to emulate? I ask this because of the short second song (S.T.H.D) on your album, which is a great sequencing decision in my opinion. With the ability for people to download or stream individual songs and with iPod shuffle, is the sequence still important to you?

DD: Definitely. I thought of it in this order when I was writing the songs. I don't want to make it sounds like it's a concept or anything. I just had an idea in my mind. I was listening to Fleetwood Mac Tusk. It' a pretty sprawling album; I love it. There's all kinds of weird shit going on. I love how it starts with that slow, mellow Christine McVie song and then there's a short, weird Lindsay Buckingham song right after. Maybe subconsciously I figured that would be a good idea.

[Listen to the track S.T.H.D from Shots]

CB: Are there themes or congruencies between all the tracks that make Shots an album and not just a collection of individual songs?

DD: I had some dark times for a while, I was pretty death obsessed. I got to a point in my late twenties where I was preoccupied with thoughts of mortality. Not to sound too grandiose. I'm kind of a closet Goth; I've always had a real fascination with that kind of shit. I love Goths and I consider it lucky to see Goth. I have a fascination with the dark side; I like to flirt with it. I wanted to explore that more.

CB: You went to Kelowna B.C, where all of you grew up, to record Shots. What is Kelowna like?

DD: It's like a suburb in the middle of nowhere. There're over 100,000 people there. It's a sprawled out strip mall town. There are more churches than anything else. It's a weird place but it's really beautiful. It's kind of love/hate. I'm still friends with most people from there, even in Vancouver; we have a common bond because that place is so shitty.

CB: Do some of your songs come out of improvisation or do they start with a structure and deviate from there?

DD: [Laughs] I wouldn't say there's much improv involved. I wish there was. We can't jam very well, at least I can't. I have zero jam confidence.

CB: You've got to build jam confidence.

DD: [Laughing] I guess so.

CB: Your band's sound has a Northwest quality to me--can you describe how Western Canada or Vancouver is similar or different from Seattle or Portland?

DD: It's pretty similar. Vancouver is rainy, dreary. It's cool but there is a pervasive shittiness. Downtown Seattle is sketchy but downtown Vancouver is really sketchy. There's f**ked up people everywhere. People that have never been to the downtown eastside are totally freaked out; it's like a Third World Country where everyone is on crack.

CB: There also seems to be a difference between the art rock of eastern Canada and the sounds of the western part of the country. Do you think that can partly be attributed to geography and to weather?

DD: I don't know what it is but it's definitely a thing. Vancouver's more isolated from the rest of Canada than any other city. In Montreal or Toronto, it seems like every band has to have eight people, a glockenspiel, auxiliary percussion, and some nose flutes. It's quirky, like 'let's be quirky and cute'. It's cool but that's not my thing. Vancouver has always been more rock and punk oriented, there's lots of metal. People out here just get hairy and stoned.

CB: I grew up in Seattle, went to college in Olympia, and then moved to Portland. I've been around hairy guys playing loud guitars for a long time......Is there a band that all members of Ladyhawk would agree is an influence or whom you'd all count among your favorites?

DD: Silkworm, definitely. We're disgusting Silkworm worshippers. We went on a getaway and we rented a house and listened to every Silkworm album in order. There's eight or nine albums. We were like, 'if any girls walked into this room they would vomit'. It was really weird but we were powerless to stop it.

CB: Can you describe the typical Ladyhawk fan?

DD: It's different everywhere but we've noticed a similarity that runs through North America. Even if we're playing a show where there's five people, which is a lot of the time, there's different types of dudes: One dude that's really drunk and he puts his arm around you and you don't know if he's going to kiss you or punch you. I get accosted by guys like that all the time. Then there's the old loner--I don't know if he's just hanging out at the bar--he's always like, 'You guys are really good'; sort of like 'The Dude' in The Big Lebowski. [Then] there are jocks, frat boy type dudes. In Vancouver there are a lot of girls that come to our shows, we're almost considered a boy band because of the throngs of screaming girls.

CB: Wow. I would have approached this interview entirely differently if I'd known you were more like the New Kids on the Block.

DD: Exactly.

CB: Or four Justin Timberlakes.

DD: But hairier.

Hairier indeed! (L to R) Duffy Driediger, Darcy Hancock, Ryan Peters, Sean Hawryluk.
Shots is out now on Jagjaguwar.
Check out Ladyhawk tour dates here.

9:43 PM ET | 03- 6-2008 | permalink

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Sperry Top-Siders To Watch Out For

I just returned from New York City where I spent a long weekend. I would have blogged from the road but lack of sleep rendered me useless. In retrospect, I should have used the trip as a warm up for SXSW, where I will be blogging day and night with little or no rest. In NYC I recorded a preview of SXSW with NPR's Bob Boilen and Stephen Thompson and you can listen to that here.

Also while in New York, I went to see a taping of Saturday Night Live. It was memorable for a few reasons, one of which was that none other than Hillary Clinton made an appearance. The event unfolded in a very strange and oblique way. They were doing the opening bit, a parody of the recent Ohio debate between Obama and Clinton. The rest of the set was dark. Suddenly, the lights came up stage left and there she was. So much of SNL's political coverage has melded truth and fiction that it took a while for people to realize we were staring at the real thing. (The sudden onset of Secret Service roaming through the audience erased any doubts).

As many of you already know, or witnessed, Wilco performed on that night's show. I have never sat in the audience during a band's television performance. I could tell Wilco had been on tour; they were tight yet fluid, Tweedy's voice was warm and confident, the dynamic between band members was both genuine and generous. You don't often see a "band" on TV, especially on SNL, at least not anymore and not regularly. It is often a singer with a back up band or a performer surrounded by dancers and distractions. Being in the audience turned out not to be much different from watching it at home. Even in the same room as the music there remained a sterility. The context of television seems to put a gloss on both the sound and the images. But Wilco's musicianship pushed through, just enough to remind you that they are the real deal.

Soon, it will have been twenty years since the talented Jeff Tweedy began making music for people. Considering this fact, I am relieved that his band performed before Vampire Weekend, who will appear on this week's SNL. Vampire Weekend are a band whom I like, and whose popularity is well deserved, but whom I can't yet say that I love. Does anyone else feel that there is a waiting period before you dive in head first? To see if what you're experiencing is more than just the rush of excitement that comes with newness? Then again, sometimes one album, one note, is all it takes to love a band. But there is that confirmation, that reassurance, that happens when a band continues to delight you from album to album.

You know, my hesitation to fully embrace Vampire Weekend might stem from the fact that if you take preppy yacht rock too far, you end up back at Jimmy Buffet.

1:37 PM ET | 03- 5-2008 | permalink

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