by Carrie Brownstein

Two, Four, Six, Eight; How Much Can We Appreciate?

What is the perfect number of people in a band? Is it the Dynamic Duo? A Power Trio? The Fab Four? More?

A few examples:

Two: The Black Keys, The White Stripes. Three: Cream, Husker Du, Rush, Nirvana, Minutemen, The Gossip. Four: The Who, The Beatles, The Replacements, The Kinks, Led Zeppelin, Vampire Weekend, Animal Collective, Pixies. More: Arcade Fire, The Decemberists, The Band, Fleetwood Mac, My Morning Jacket, Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band, Of Montreal.

Or another way to think about it: Did you prefer bands like Modest Mouse and Built to Spill back when they only had three members?

In a live setting, I feel like less is more. I don't need the concerts to sound exactly like the albums. So you put some horns on one track or overdubbed your guitar eight times; that doesn't mean your live show needs to look like an Eagles reunion or a Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. And carting around a string section so they can play for five minutes and take up half the stage, only to be barely audible, might be a bit excessive. In economic terms, maybe it's time to save money by only taking one tour bus and one semi-truck with you when you head out on the road. And from an audience perspective, it's not always a bad thing to remind the fans about your songwriting prowess, and to demonstrate that beneath the grandiosity of your albums is a group of people who know how to play their instruments and who have a palpable chemistry on stage.

Sure, there are special occasions -- your performance on SNL or Letterman -- but instead of hiring a children's choir, it might also be an opportunity to demonstrate that music needn't be polished to the point of innocuousness; that a rough edge or raw power can be moving in its austerity and its displays of vulnerability. Bright Eyes (who do often travel with a small orchestra) on Jay Leno is a perfect example; imagine this same song played by 10 people.

Ultimately, it's hard to pick the perfect number for a band. There is something magic about a trio -- so little excess, each member a life raft. Or the duo, which makes enough noise for an entire band, so that each moment of the show is an act of audacity, a dispelling of disbelief. And the four-piece, wherein there's enough room for each person to seamlessly move in and out of the song dynamics, to add explosions or to recede into the background. For the most part, I feel that the bigger the band, the more diffuse the music, particularly when a small band keeps adding members. Sometimes the dynamic is spread too thin and the center doesn't hold. Yet other big bands find ways of harnessing their whale of a sound.

For me, it boils down to necessity. Who is vital and who isn't? When there's excess, the sound might be denser, but what is essential is usually lost.
----------------

*Don't forget to Vote the Rock in 2008*

4:13 PM ET | 06-27-2008 | permalink | comments (37) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

Politicans As Rock Stars

Editor's Note: Hear Carrie's commentary on 'Politicians As Rock Stars' from NPR's Day to Day

Some of you might remember the post last week suggesting that we momentarily view the current presidential election through a musical lens. After all, as connoisseurs of music, we are often judging -- or at least discussing -- the best albums, shows, or bands. Additionally, we often care when our favorite bands pick horrible, or simply incongruous, openers at their live shows. But when the combination of headliner and supporting act is harmonious, or so mismatched as to be genius, it can make for an incredible experience.

Plus, since everyone else seems to have a methodology as to how Obama and McCain should go about choosing their running mates, we might as well propose one, as well. And once we determine the results -- that McCain is, um, Liz Phair, and therefore his running mate should be RZA -- then all we have to do is decide what politician is most like RZA. After that, we let John McCain's people know. Or something like that. See for yourself.

Thanks to everyone who sent in suggestions; they are included in the poll. Please vote for the best pair below. Write-in answers are also welcome in the comments section. Polling will end on Friday, July11th.

2:01 AM ET | 06-26-2008 | permalink | comments (38) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

Summer Foxes

I just returned from Manzanita on the Oregon coast. The last time I was there, I went to the San Dune Tavern with a friend. We stuck around to watch a cover band called the Oyster Shooters play, and tried to guess what each song would be beforehand. I don't know if it's proof that the band was predictable or that my friend is eerily in touch with high-school teachers living out their rock 'n' roll fantasies, but he guessed every song right. And just to give the band the benefit of the doubt, I'll blame the PA system for the fact that the second tune didn't reveal itself as "Smoke on the Water" until halfway through.

This time to the coast, I missed out on the local talent, opting instead for reading (Black Swan Green), taking leisurely walks on the beach (no, this isn't a personals ad), and spending time with an iPod and old episodes of House. I also listened to the recently released self-titled Fleet Foxes record on repeat and had their songs knocking about in my head and on the verge of spilling out my mouth wherever I went. I suppose this means the Fleet Foxes are my summer band. Despite them seeming autumnal -- in aesthetic hue and tonality, not to mention that physically, their long beards just aren't meshing with flip-flops and tans -- their songs bring about a warmth; it seeps in, drastic at first, and then as if it had been there all along, like putting on clothes fresh from the dryer.

I kept wondering why one of my favorite FF songs, "He Doesn't Know Why" -- which you can listen to here courtesy of Stereogum -- melodically evoked that precipitous but gleeful fall into love, not to mention one out of every ten wedding ceremonies. Then I realized that the song slightly reminded me of Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring."

A day later, when telling a friend about the Fleet Foxes, I resorted to my least favorite form of musical description, a formula that basically boils down to "adjective + a band that this other band might sort of sound like." A variation on this formula is just to add the words "on steroids" to a band name. Either way, it's lazy and reductive shorthand that I'm sure we're all guilty of on occasion. What I said, by the way, was that "Fleet Foxes are the Baroque Shins."

If "Baroque Shins" isn't conjuring anything for you, how about: Fleet Foxes are estrogen-powered Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Itchy-Beard Left Banke, or Subaru-Outback-hand-me-down-from-Mom-and-Dad Bert Jansch. (Hmmm, maybe these brief descriptions would be more useful if I weren't so fond of Fleet Foxes.)

The Fleet Foxes wear their influences on their sleeves (and thank them in their liner notes) and they often sing with the sagacity of old souls, yet their songs sparkle in just the way something brand-new should. They have an irrepressible gleam to their songs, which is why Fleet Foxes are perfect for summer. One of their catchiest tunes is called "White Winter Hymnal". Alas, summer is what we make it.

-------------

Feel free to share both unlikely and/or obvious summer jams that you've been enjoying thus far. And let us in on any two-word band descriptions you've uttered in the past, or some other formula you've used that relies on brevity.

1:00 AM ET | 06-25-2008 | permalink | comments (48) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

The Main Attraction and The Supporting Act

Each day--on the blogs, in Op-Ed pieces, on television, and on the radio--we are privy to another expert or strategist's opinion as to whom Barack Obama and John McCain should choose as their respective running mates. Should it be Jindal, Romney, Richardson, Snowe, Clinton, Edwards, Webb, or none of the above? Should the Vice President make up for a lack of foreign policy experience? Youngness? Oldness? Should they counteract ambivalence or doubt from a certain demographic, like women, Latinos, or the working-class? Can they appeal to Christian Conservatives or Independent voters? And, most of all, can the VP choice in and of itself represent and convey a gravitas, a prescience, and a manner befitting of a President?

With that in mind, I'll now propose a new, albeit unscientific method for deciding the best Vice Presidential choice and I hope you'll join me in making suggestions. Let's view the candidates as bands or musicians. Who would be the best supporting act in order to woo the most diverse group of concert-goers or fans? For instance, if Barack Obama is The Who--with grandiose ideas, a penchant for risk taking and rule breaking, and a somewhat flashy demeanor--then maybe the supporting act should be steadier, someone like CCR, who convey a different sense of tradition. And if John McCain is Lynyrd Skynyrd--attempting to walk a fine line between mass appeal and rebel stance, less eloquent in phraseology but not lacking in intelligence--maybe Modest Mouse should be the opener; a band with more finesse and artfulness, but one that still conveys a sense of workmanship.

Anyhow, you get the point. The bands can both be old, new, or one of each. They can be broken up, deceased, or still playing. The bands' own politics don't have to represent the political views of the candidate, the bands merely need to capture the candidate's essence or something about them that is likely appealing to voters. And your choice of bands/musicians doesn't need to represent your own political views, though for some it will be difficult for them not to. No matter who you're voting for, the goal is to find the best line-up possible for both the Democratic and Republican tickets. So, please decide which band or musician each Presidential candidate is and then pick their supporting act.

We will vote at the end for the two pairings that seem most likely to succeed.

5:56 PM ET | 06-18-2008 | permalink | comments (34) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

Yours, Mine, Ours

This is mildly interesting:

My two initial reactions: in the case of invention, it is not unlikely that two artists could stumble upon a similar melody at relatively the same time, or that one could be inspired by the other. And though I would generally side with the author of the original tune, I must admit that the Coldplay song started playing on a loop in my head the moment I saw the iPod commercial in which it is featured. Whereas I can't remember the Creaky Boards tune for the life of me. So, the melodies are different enough that one employs poppier turns of phrase and more distinctive fluctuations between the notes. I'm not a huge fan of Coldplay in the first place but will admit to liking a handful of songs. Yet it was one of their most lugubrious, cloying and my least favorite song of theirs, "Fix You," that I sang every morning when I awoke for a week straight (which, frankly, seems like a more valid reason to sue Coldplay). Anyhow, decide for yourself.

This is even more interesting:

On the topic of copyright issues, the song 'Happy Birthday' has both a fascinating origin and subsequent life story. The song began as "Good Morning to All" as composed by schoolteacher Mildred J. Hill and her sister Patty in the late 19th Century. However, the melody was not entirely written by them in the first place but rather borrowed from a variety of popular songs at the time, a practice that was not uncommon within the oral or folk traditions. It was children who ultimately played with and changed the lyrics to "Happy Birthday to you," as they had begun singing the song at parties. By the time the Hill sisters registered a copyright of the song in 1935, they claimed both the melody and the birthday lyrics as their own. In the subsequent years many artists and companies were slapped with copyright infringement lawsuits or forced to pay high rates for the use of the song. From Western Union, whose singing telegrams often included "Happy Birthday" (incidentally, it was the singing telegram that most likely spread the popularity of the tune across the country) to Igor Stravinsky, who was reprimanded after including several bars of the song in one of his symphonies.

But where the story really gets good is when Time Warner purchased the copyright of "Happy Birthday" in 1988. In the mid 1990s, their publishing company, who collects the royalties, sent a letter to the Girl Scouts and other summer camps informing them that they would now need to purchase the rights to the song in order to perform it. The penalty for a single, unauthorized performance of the song would range from $5,000 or six days in jail to $100,000 and a year in jail. In the end, after several camps ceased singing the song and many others issued formal complaints, the publishing company rescinded its request saying that it would no longer charge non-profit organizations for use of the song.

This all means that sometime during our childhoods, we likely broke the law whilst singing what we thought to be an authorless tune.
From Kembrew McLeod's Freedom of Expression:

Copyright law defines a "public performance" as something that occurs "at a place open to the public, or at any place where a substantial number of persons outside of a normal circle of family and its social acquaintances is gathered." For instance, around a campfire.

Fortunately, these days, for those of us who merely want a melodious and traditional way of wishing one another well as we turn the page on another year, the song" Happy Birthday" is no longer under copyright protection. Over half a century of ridiculousness has now come to and end. You can read all about that here.

Or check out Freedom of Expression: Overzealous Copyright Bozos and Other Enemies of Creativity by Kembrew McLeod.

And speaking of birthdays.

12:49 PM ET | 06-18-2008 | permalink | comments (24) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

Plastic Surgery Disasters

There was an article in yesterday's New York Times about how the Strawberry Shortcake doll is getting a 21st Century makeover. The doll, popular in the 1980s, is being repackaged as a cell-phone-using, lip-gloss-wearing cutie, as opposed to the slightly frumpy, cat-carrying girl she used to be. As long as her hair still smells of strawberry and her friends Huckleberry Pie and Apple Dumplin' are updated too, I guess I don't really mind.

Yet the repackaging and re-imagining of formerly popular toys in order for them to appeal to today's youth does remind me a great deal of one current trend out of Britain, which is to export a new batch of blue-eyed soul in the form of (thus far) Duffy, Adele, and Amy Winehouse. It's almost as if Sandie Shaw, Cilla Black, and Lulu (let alone Dusty Springfield) never existed. The 21st Century versions of these songstresses look and sound retro; in fact, the only update I can think of is that the U.S. is paying more attention to their music this time around (tattoos and a drug addiction hardly count as an improvement on the old.)

Listen to Cilla Black's "Love of the Loved"

Listen to Sandie Shaw's "Long Live Love"

I like new. I like influence drawn from various or, sometimes, obvious genres. I am not averse to updating or reconfiguring the old. But if an artist can't find a way of making the music feel like it's been reborn then what is the point? There are plenty of bands that make you feel like you are hearing a genre, a form of music, or a playing style for the first time. In my opinion, The White Stripes are a good example of a band who did more than merely copy the blues, whereas The Bravery exemplify the most benign and pointless regurgitation of new wave and post-punk. There are exceptions, of course, and moments in our lives when we just want someone to hit that nostalgia button we have inside of us, the one that brings us back to a halcyon year or a bright day. But why do we always need something new to love or an updated model? Do I need a new version of the Beach Boys or The Clash? No. Will anyone make an album that sounds exactly like Let It Bleed but that is somehow better? Doubtful. I'd rather listen to artists like N.E.R.D or Joanna Newsom, Man Man or Gnarls Barkley, who blend influence with inspiration. Music doesn't need to be compartmentalized into old and new when it really just boils down to (our own idea of) good and bad.

Listen to Duffy's "Mercy"

So, I think what irks me about the new British "soul" singers is that they feel like a gimmick. Maybe enough time has passed so that few people know or remember the style in its earlier form. Maybe the oldies need a face lift. But does each generation need their own, updated and made-over version of the late greats? Shouldn't the late greats be met with the new greats? Personally, I'd argue for the latter.

Additionally, what bands or artists have made something old sound new again? And who has made you miss the earlier version by merely being imitative as opposed to inventive?

Pictured below: 20th Century singers and their 21st Century counterparts.

2:33 AM ET | 06-12-2008 | permalink | comments (52) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

We Versus The Shark Interview

The first time I ever heard We Versus The Shark was earlier this year at the SXSW music festival in Austin. I had left a packed and muggy show at Emo's in search of air and perspective. I walked along the street until I saw a banner that read, 'Athens in Austin', and though I have always had an admiration for the small town scene, I stepped inside because the room was nearly empty. It took a few moments until I really tuned into the band onstage. What drew me in was the adoration from the small group of onlookers: the fist raising, body convulsing, letting loose of all propriety glee. I asked a long haired guy for the name of the band and joined in the dance (albeit figuratively.) Shortly after, in a blog post from the festival, I described the band as a baby made by Fugazi and Primus.

We Versus The Shark formed out on the Internet. Not from a 'musicians wanted' ad but from a mutual love of The Dismemberment Plan and an online community based around the group. I love this story because it is an old one. In previous decades, the band members would have met via fanzines or letters. Whatever the means of uniting, it is always a relief to throw out a rope and find like-minded people on the other end.

WVTS embody a splendid urgency. Their songs attack themselves like a self-annihilation before turning the energy outward; they are little tornadoes. The music is frenzied and discomfited but always trenchant.

The interview was conducted via email. A fourth band member, Sam Paulsen (guitar, keyboards, vocals), was unavailable to answer questions.

Carrie Brownstein: We've all heard the cliche "verse chorus verse" when describing a song. When I saw your live show, I was struck (and impressed) by the amount of parts each song had. I was wondering how you label each part during the songwriting process? Alphabetically? Numerically?

Luke Fields (guitar, keyboards, vocals): Actually, we only really use the basic terms. Verse, chorus, intro, outro, bridge. Most songs start out as a verse-chorus pairing and grow out towards the beginning and end from there. Other parts kinda grow and mutate from the original two and become variants, and get called "second chorus" or "loud verse" for distinction. We'll s1/2ivide some sections into A and B and so on, but for the most part we just communicate with the good old pop song structure vocabulary.

Scott Smith (drums, vocals): I think we use any label we can possibly think of for the parts during the writing process- the "cool slow outro" might not be added to the end of a song until we've satisfied some kind of feeling that would justify us tacking on a part like that.

Jeff Tobias (bass, keyboards, vocals): I realize we have some sort of knotty arrangements, but a lot of our parts are just sort of inversions/reversals of other parts, or brief transitions.

CB: Do your songs come out of improvisation as a band or are you more likely to bring in nearly finished pieces?

Luke: Both. Jeff and I will often bring in zygotes, full skeletons, fingernails, or eyeballs of songs. The rest of the band fleshes it out and the song adjusts to what everyone else is doing. Full songs are rarely brought in. Sporadic creation often stems from one of Scott's drumbeats. He pounds away at something amazing and we try and keep up.

Jeff: Luke or I will bring in half-to-three-quarters-baked ideas, and we'll sort of flesh out the jams in practice. Scott will call my phone and leave voice mails of beats a few times a week, and some of our best songs come out of those.

Listen to "Hello Blood" from 'Dirty Versions.'

CB: Whereas some bands exude a purely inspired approach to playing, or are less technically proficient than they are good songwriters, WVTS demonstrate a masterful approach to their instruments. What are your musical backgrounds and how long has each of you been playing? Also, it is generally known that just because one can shred on guitar doesn't mean one should solo for every second of every song, can you explain the delicate balance between showing off one's skills and actually writing good songs?

Luke: I'm self-taught. I started playing guitar when I was eleven, and I'm 25 now. I read Guitar World and learned all the 90's hits (and shits) from the back of the magazine. Had a few people like my father and family friends show me scales and chords and such here and there. After a while I got better at learning by ear and that's been my only real method of learning about guitar since high school. None of us are really shredders, per se, maybe Scott... but we're all into good songwriting AND good musicianship. They obviously don't have to be mutually exclusive or even separated within the confines of a song. Why shine for thirty seconds of a song and then dip back in when the whole song can be a place to shine? If you view every piece of a song as important, there's no desire to "commandeer" your own section... everything is everybody's.

Scott: I began drumming when I was 5 years old, and followed the public school music program track all the way through my first year in college. Formal music education dominated much of my life until I discovered the rock scene in Athens - as they say--punk rock changed my life. So I've had the privilege of playing music with classically trained technical wizards only to then be humbled by the sheer power of a well-written pop song, and my approach to playing percussion has fallen into an area somewhere between the two. If a song is supposed to convey a message, the technicality should agree with the message and be as complex or as simple as that message asks for.

Jeff: My mom was an elementary school music teacher, so I've been playing music from a pretty young age. I started playing bass guitar when I was thirteen. I played in weird punk bands throughout high school, and I totally blew off my prog rock friends' taste in music. I super fuckin hated that stuff, and even now, technical proficiency always takes a backseat in my mind to what the songs are accomplishing. For example, I can get behind some Yes these days due to the epic, shining moments of pure glory on "Close to the Edge." Chops can be a nice bonus in a band, but my only requirement for enjoying something on a basic level is honesty.

We Versus The Shark. From L to R: Luke Fields, Sam Paulsen, Jeff Tobias, Scott Smith. Photo by Mike White.



photo credit: Mike White

CB: As songwriters, how do you reconcile the desire to make challenging music with the need people have for instant gratification? Or, assuming that you also aren't immune to pop, how do you marry discord with ease?

Luke: Americans will always have a strong lean towards instant gratification. That's just the way we're raised. Shit, I like the simple stuff, too. My main problem is that if I start to get bored of what I'm playing I can't believe that other people will be interested in it. I don't even think we're that busy, musically, compared to a large part of our peer group. Bands in the post-Hella period who keep reaching back and finding Zappa and Ornette Coleman and others guilty of saturation are inclined to CRAM IT IN (not that there's anything wrong with that) and view us as a ittle too poppy. On the other hand... compared to bands that continue to evolve from the Strokes and Franz Ferdinand and such, we seem like we are actually INCAPABLE of counting to four. It's a weird middle ground between challenging and rewarding and it doesn't always pay off for us. When it does, though, people love it.

Scott: I have a personal trend towards instant gratification, but I want to be gratified by complex songs! Like any art, one man's trash is another man's treasure. We have a lot to get off our chests musically, and hope that when we release it all it strikes some chords in the listener. My obsession with bands like Deerhoof or Mastodon didn't happen overnight, it grew as I spent more time with each band until the music rooted itself in my s1/4onscious. These bands sound like obnoxious noise to many people, and I can't help that as much as I can't help how crowds respond to WVTS... some crowds love it, some are indifferent, and some get as far away as they can possibly get.

Jeff: When I realized that Wolf Eyes had the huge following that they do, it really sunk in for me that just about anything can find an audience in the music world. There are definitely folks from the sort of Frank Zappa-land that are into us because of, y'know, all the notes. But I'd rather be grouped in with bands due to attitude and ideals than how many notes we play per song.

Listen to "Mr. Ego Death" from 'Dirty Versions.'

CB: What musical comparison would make you cringe?

Luke: None really make me cringe. We still get the Dismemberment Plan although it doesn't really show in what we play these days. The weirdest have been Tool and Motorhead. If people ever sniff out the embarrassing nu-metal artifacts in a few of us, that'll make me cringe. Don't say Jimmie's Chicken Shack!

Scott: I'm personally impressed with anyone who compares our music to anything resembling music. That means they've actually listened.

Jeff: The only time I cringe due to band-comparisons is when I hear the following phrase: "Y'all like the Mars Volta?"

CB: Athens, GA has a long and vaunted history as a music town. Compared to the scenes of the late 70's, 80's and 90's, is there still a theme coursing through the town? Or is there a new element that defines the music scene?

Luke: It's a bit of a hydra at the moment. I thought the noise scene was going to elevate but I haven't heard as much from any of the noise bands in a while. I think there's a second wave of that on the horizon. The Elephant Six torch is still burning, albeit in unlikely forms such as Dark Meat. The aggressive part of bands is starting to show more, us included; it's a very fun scene. The metalheads, crustpunks, indie rockers, and folkfreaks all more or less get along and like each other. Some of us start very strange side projects with each other.

Scott: Athens has and will continue to be a university town that doubles as a liberal playground. The trend that I notice is that the unflinching conservative redness of Georgia pushes the artists and fringe personalities to Athens, where they can breathe and network with like-minded people. This population combined with scores of bars and venues in the downtown area provides a rich nightlife with rarely a night off. The trend I see is an open network of artists pursuing a rewarding endeavor far beneath the radar of the mass media and even much of Georgia.

CB: When I saw you at SXSW I was drawn in by the sparse crowd but then stayed for the music. Also, it was one of the only shows I went to wherein people were doing some really freaky and cool dances in the audience, completely unselfconsciously. Are your shows better attended as you tour, or are you blessed by a handful of ardent fans who are slowly but surely spreading the word?

Luke: You had the benefit (or WE had the benefit) of seeing us in front of an audience with a lot of friends. That particular SXSW show was populated entirely by Athens bands. While we're on tour, there are generally one to five people there who drove specifically to see us and are really excited. The rest hesitate to clap when the first song is finished. Birmingham, AL and most of North Carolina love us. We had to play a shit-ton of shows before that happened, though.

Scott: We tend to affect certain people very strongly, so that they follow our band and spread the word, and this grassroots population has been one of our strengths. It gives us the confidence to write the music we'd like to listen to, knowing that an audience is ready to hear the weirdness we create.

Jeff: A common theme of our last tour was the three people who drove from an hour away to see us. On the West Coast in particular, we had a few occasions of folks who seemed like they'd been waiting years for us to arrive.

CB: Is there a current trend in music that is particularly exciting or alarming to you?

Luke: Rock in roll is in a weird place. People have so much more access to bands that touring is no longer necessarily the best way to get your name out there. However, unless you tour and prove you're a real band you can't hold on to anyone's attention. Hoarders want mp3s and collectors want vinyl. Gas is so expensive that touring on our level can't really earn us the money we need to pay the label back for pressing the CDs that people almost don't want anymore. Conundrum valley, y'all.

Scott: External rewards, like stardom and money, seem to be sliding further and further away from the reality of a working artist. I see this as shifting the priority of making music to the individual's desire for expression and release. The trend excites me because I see a greater variety of quality music emerge, yet I'm alarmed at the lifestyle sacrifices the artist must be willing to accept to operate the way he sees fit to remain creative.

Jeff: Like most people, I'm enamored with all this beautiful, blissed-out psychedelic stuff that seems to have captured the indie rock world's attention. But at the same time, I watch videos of the Jesus Lizard on YouTube and can't help but wish there were more aggressive bands out there. I feel like we're sort of an anomaly in that we're aggressive, but not necessarily a "genre band;" sort of in between the cracks. I guess that's what music critics call "post-hardcore?"

CB: What was the first music you heard that informed or changed your own playing style?

Luke: Hard question with unfortunately predictable answers. The first informants were probably Nirvana and Primus. The first game-changers were Archers of Loaf and Skeleton Key

Scott: My first albums purchased at the age of 10 were Pearl Jam "Ten" and Nirvana "Nevermind". These are very pop records, and I digested them over and over again at a young age. MTV made an unavoidable sensation out of grunge, so I became glued to MTV to see what my favorite bands were doing. Shots of a shirtless Dave Grohl exploding in sweat and rock fluid while annihilating songs I knew by heart left an incredible impact on my view of an ideal drummer.

Jeff: John Entwistle was a big deal for me when I was first starting to play the bass. While I was generally resistant to a lot of classic rock when I was growing up, the Who were always different: Fist-pumping, uplifting rock songs about being a really uncomfortable young person? Yes, please.

CB: What is the most recent band you suggested that someone listen to?

Luke: I've been pushing Pattern is Movement, the Dirty Projectors, and Future of the Left pretty hard lately.

Scott: Mastodon. I've suggested Mastodon to anyone within earshot since I first heard "Blood Mountain" in 2006. They have chops, complexity, honesty, politics, and focus. They wave an enormous banner of progressive philosophy that I find inspirational to the point of obsession. They are young and in it for the long haul.

Jeff: I've been really enjoying this band from Seattle called the Intelligence. It's sort of trashy punk rock n roll. We also spent a lot of time in the van on this last tour talking to each other in what we call the "Dirty Projectors voice."

CB: Do you prefer to play a good show (i.e. few mistakes, good monitors, etc.) or to have a great audience despite bad sound/monitors?

Luke: Best audience, worst sound. If they're having a good time, then we're having the BEST time. Nothing else really matters.

Scott: I can listen to myself play all day, but the live show is about the connection with the audience. We could be plucking shoe strings, and as long as we wrote the song with sincerity and people are into it, I'd call it a successful show.

Jeff: Mistakes and monitors don't mean a good goddamn to me. I like the shows where we're not the only sweaty people in the room.

We Versus The Shark's new album is called 'Dirty Versions.' The official release date is 7/1/08 but you can buy it now from their label's website.

2:08 PM ET | 06- 9-2008 | permalink | comments (9) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

Here Comes Your Band

My friend forwarded me a website that seems akin to the Larry Norman/Bum Kon post of last week. It's called For Those Who Tried To Rock. The blog aims to "capture data about every band to have been formed by teens with that perfect mixture of big dreams and questionable talent in suburban garages, high school music rooms, and college dorms across America." Overall, the site's aim is not unlike that of the early Nuggets and Pebbles compilations, but it's an exciting venture never the less. Check it out.

Below is an image of the band Only One from central New Jersey, circa 1995.

Portland's insistence on not letting go of winter has led me to more film watching than usual for this time of year. Last weekend I watched loudQUIETloud, a documentary about the Pixies as they embarked on their first reunion tour in 2004.

I saw the Pixies in 1990, sandwiched between Primus and Jane's Addiction at the Seattle Center Arena. Though the Pixies were whom I was most excited to see, the performance felt flat and slightly detached. It could have been the large venue, their slot on the bill, or just who the Pixies were back then, but the songs came and went without any of the teeth they bared on their albums.

What first struck me about Loud Quiet Loud was that it documented what felt less like a reunion and more like a reassembling. It was as if the Pixies had not broken up but broken down, that they were in need of something--an audience, a level of desperation, financial uncertainty, sheer will--to bring them back into working condition.

The Pixies, the early years. From L to R: Black Francis, Kim Deal, David Lovering, Joey Santiago.

Whereas most documentaries about bands go back to the beginning, positing the music within a context, a city, a scene, and telling the origin story, except for a few seconds of video right before the credits, Loud Quiet Loud begins and ends in the new millennium. The choice to focus solely on the present day creates an odd disconnect, erasing any remnant of the process of creating the music. When the Pixies show up for their first practice in well over a decade, it's like watching actors step into roles without any sense of how they came to be who they are.

Yet the Pixies' music speaks for itself. The songs are bigger than the band members, larger than their hang-ups, their history, and whatever bitterness they left behind or still might carry with them. And the faces in the audience during those first shows, ecstatic and glowing, like they are seeing a lost piece of the puzzle, a secret ingredient that courses through so much contemporary music--that ardor from the fans is what seems to meld the band together. Maybe that is what the Pixies were lacking the first time around--some means of reflecting back onto them how much their music matters.

So, aside from Nirvana's song structure ( I also hear the Pixies influence on the vocal stylings of Modest Mouse's Isaac Brock) where has the Pixies music taken us? Where do you hear it and see it? And who has borrowed from and paid homage to the best parts of the band? Or, as suggested by a reader, who influenced the Pixies?

The Pixies on their second try.

12:42 AM ET | 06- 5-2008 | permalink | comments (44) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)

 

Who Do You Love?

Bo Diddley, legendary guitar player and predecessor of just about everything exciting in rock music, has died at age 79. His famous syncopated rhythm pattern (that many of us learned in grade school as the colloquial, "shave and a hair cut, two bits") became one of the most recognizable and eagerly copied rhythms in music.

Diddley was one of my favorite guitar players and showmen, his body seemed plugged into his own sounds: feet shuffling, legs twitching, arms flailing--he showcased all the ways that electricity was crucial to the evolution of rock 'n' roll, that it was its own force, to be harnessed but not necessarily tamed.

One of the best album covers of all time was for Bo Diddley is a Gunslinger. It is the prototype for countless artists whose depiction of themselves on their album cover is both a dare and a challenge.

Watch two videos of Diddley below:

And listen to songs that employed the Bo Diddley rhythm.
Such as The Strangeloves' "I Want Candy":

A song you might be more familiar with as performed by Bow Wow Wow:


Lastly, The Who's "Magic Bus":

Here's the piece All Things Considered ran ran on Bo Diddley, from reporter Neda Ulaby.

R.I.P Bo Diddley.

1:38 PM ET | 06- 2-2008 | permalink | comments (13) | e-mail post | trackbacks (0)