lone wolf.

sunset rubdown: shut up i'm dreaming
you know, i was already smitten with wolf parade’s better half, spencer krug, but then the quirky little mastermind went ahead and released the first full-length album from his lo-fi side project, sunset rubdown, and now i am sure to adore him forever. shut up i’m dreaming is a strange gem, which calls to mind a bunch of similar diamond-in-the-rough type bands like the unicorns and neutral milk hotel. oh yeah, and wolf parade.

except one can imagine that these are the sort of oddball songs that even the offbeat wolf parade wouldn’t dare indulge in. refusing to fit together like chapters in a book, each song stands on its own like a mini-novella, complete with it’s own set of endearing lyrics told to the tune of a zillion instruments (including many appearances by our forgotten friend, the triangle!). even with several tracks stretching over seven minutes long, the songs are never boring, as they are all backed with krug’s signature ultra-frantic, ultra-manic, urgency.

i go in circles.

unwed sailor: circles.
ep’s are tricky. at best a tryst with captivating music ends entirely too quickly. at worst, you’ve invested your time in a handful of songs that go nowhere. unfortunately, for unwed sailor and myself, the latter scenario holds true for circles, which consists of two lengthy instrumental tracks seamlessly melded together.

thirteen minutes into their fifteen minute ep, the band finally finds their footing, landing on a pensive little melody with upbeat percussion and purposeful guitar ramblings. but beware, the road leading there is dreary and vacant.

wild horses couldn't drag me away.

band of horses: everything all the time.

whatever small spark carissa’s wierd created, band of horses has fed it into a glowing pyre. a particularly stunning debut, everything all the time effortlessly unfolds into a full blown melodic masterpiece.

the coolest cowboys in the northwest, horses successfully pull off a sound eerily similar to the mature country-kissed rock stylings of my morning jacket. banjos, twanging geetars, and twinkling pianos all swim beneath reverb drowned vocals creating a consistently beautiful album.

i dare you to resist their charms. and i defy you to find even one throw away song hiding out in their haystack.

thoroughbred tracks: "the funeral," "weed party," "wicked gil."

i hate myself for allowing new york tickets to sell out before i was let in on this well kept secret. don’t you miss your chance too: http://bandofhorses.com/

built to last.

built to spill: you in reverse.
sometimes i worry that after so many years of the same old songs, i’m growing bored of built to spill. but then they release a new album and i reluctantly buy it, and before the first verse even fades out, i’m hooked. you in reverse is no exception to this rule. since it’s release a few weeks back, i have once again found myself shamelessly floating around in indie-jam band heaven. let’s face it, doug martsch is cuter than a yawning bear cub and had this album been released during the snow-capped winter months, i would have cuddled up in bed and hibernated with it.

including the subtle lineup changes, there’s nothing unexpected about this album. built to spill are built to last, sticking with the same familiar sounds which have won them a large and loyal fanbase. but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. maybe, built to spill is the best friend you can count on to consistently give you what you need. if what you need is sugary, but sharp-witted lyrics thrown over psychedelic guitar solos stretching over eight minutes long. and really, isn’t that what we all need sometimes? make you melt tracks: "goin’ against your mind," "liar," and "gone."

get postponed tour date details and play a little b-ball with douggy doug: http://builtospill.com/

dande lion's gonna tell me where the light is.

imaad wastif: s/t.

when i first listened to this album, i wrongly assumed that the birds chirping sweetly outside my window were a hidden charm lurking behind the prettiest harmonies of this sappy lovesick acoustica. alas, they were just birds out my window. still, the album is perfect for spring time sunsets, and wasif is a bulb on the verge of blooming for years now. before embarking on his current tour with the yeah yeah yeahs, wasif has dabbled in lesser known projects like alaska! and the new folk implosion. check out his self-titled solo debut if you’re still bummed over losing beloved singer/songwriters jeff buckley and elliott smith, and/or if you want to know where the yeah yeah yeahs have been drawing their mushy inspiration from. stand out track: blade.

still curious?: http://www.killrockstars.com/bands/factsheets/imaadwasif/

there she goes.

theo + the skyscrapers
@ metasin
may 05, 2006

it’s nearly midnight as the lovely theo awaits her cue from the skyscrapers. it’s hard to believe she’s the same pony-tailed woman i saw backstage just an hour ago, relaxing with some starbucks in a hoodie. no matter how many times i watch her take same stage, she is always mesmerizing, a perfect punk rock picture painted with smudged make up and tattoo ink. she is a tiny blonde thing in a tiny black dress with a voice taller than any of the towering skyscrapers. she is confident and cool and she should be. the mixed crowd (used to resident dj’s spinning strictly industrial and ebm at this hour) adored her from start to finish. even those who started out just trying to get a good look up her skirt soon recognized the talent.

slinking around stage, sporting the trademark karen o. gloves and shouting out abrasive vocals over thumping and incessant new wave-inspired, metal-kissed, rock n' roll, it’s no surprise that theo and the skyscrapers have already drawn comparisons to the yeah yeah yeah’s and blondie. so theo will have to work extra hard to break past her lunachicks days and explode like a "volcano," leaving the rest in ashes.

for new album + tour info, go here:
http://theoandtheskyscrapers.com/

photos by: kenyon hopkin

they know what they know.

yeah yeah yeahs
@ roseland ballroom
may 02, 2006.

Opening bands:

black lips: groovy “flower punk” straight outta 1960-something. more than anything else, i wanted to hate these guys, but their songs and immature antics were so consistently ridiculous that they kind of won me over by the end of their set. http://www.myspace.com/theblacklips

dirtbombs: a bunch of badasses (including two drummers, and a singer rocking shades) effortlessly dished out loud, crunchy garage rock that spawned the monstrous moshpit which then carried on for the rest of the night. http://www.thedirtbombs.net/


yeah yeah yeahs set list: phenomena, black tongue, pin, gold lion, honeybear, tell me what rockers to swallow, mysteries, art star, cheated hearts, the sweets, turn into, y control. encore: maps (acoustic), warrior, tick.

can a punk band known for their incredible on-stage energy still rock hard even when they go acoustic? yeah yeah yeah, they can.

still a relatively new band, the yeah yeah yeahs have already proved to indie elitists everywhere that they know how to rock and they do it really well. backed with that knowledge, playing to a hometown crowd filled with family members and friends galore, the yeah yeah yeahs were able to let their guard down a little bit, sticking with newer songs off their recent release, show your bones.

karen o’s stage prescence is always worth coming out for, but i can’t help feeling that the band took advantage of the loyal fanbase, showing off a little too much of their soft side, “treating” us to an acoustic version of “maps,” and other slow songs like “the sweets,” “turn into,” and “warrior.” personally, after hearing “pin” and “tick,” i was craving more old favorites like “rich” and “bang” (even if it meant actually getting banged by the obnoxious crowd of wild drunkards in front with an apparently insatiable taste for slam-dancing). oooh, new york, you’re soooo hard core.

photos by: kenyon hopkin.

here comes your band.

fool the world: the oral history of a band called pixies.
by josh frank + caryn ganz.

five years ago, josh frank “started thinking what would a ‘rock musical’ for [his] generation look like, and it was obvious. it would look like the pixies.” apparently researching the myth-laden, gossip-drenched history of the pixies turned out to be a much larger undertaking than he had anticipated. so he axed his original plan to write a play on the life of charles thompson (aka. black francis, frank black), and instead compiled his findings into a book which chronicles the life of the pixies.

frank, who describes himself as a “rock dramatist” (not to be confused with rock journalist), warned me within the first few pages that i should stop reading if what i craved was sleazy stories of illicit sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. still i kept reading, hoping that his years of endless interviewing would shed some light on the shadiest parts of the pixies past. unfortunately, the book only confirmed what i already know about the formation, breakup, and eventual reunion of the band, which is nothing.

basically kim deal and charles thompson never really got along because they both wanted to lead the band. he let her sing a few songs, the fans la-la-loved it, and he freaked. she partied hard, he became reclusive. tensions built, they got bored and split up (via thompson’s notorious fax) to pursue other projects (the amps, the breeders, the catholics, martinis) and magic. yes, magic. but then something really magical happened and after not speaking for twelve years, they decided they wanted to make a lot of money (oh yeah, and music too) so they reunited and now they’re back together and they play shows. uh, the end?

you know, it’s not to often a rock journalist (ahem, dramatist) stands aside and lets the band tell their own story. and now i know why. rock stars aren’t the most reliable characters and the truth is, they can’t really be trusted to recall history the way it was, instead they tell it how they remember it was, and half the time they were too drunk or tired from touring to remember much of anything, and the end result is a tangled mess of time lines and he said/she said’s.

at one point, frank black mentions his admiration for david lynch’s truly surrealistic ability to present ideas while refraining from explaining them. in this way too, i believe the band’s history is better off unknown. like everyone else, i love the pixies, but their story is just as boring as the story of most bands; a bunch of kids who grew up listening to everything from country to punk rock, formed a band even though they had no clue what they were doing, smoked pot, drank beers and jolt cola, and played music until people listened. you’ve heard the story a thousand times before. but never, to this day have you heard songs like “tame” and “break my body.” so lets follow david lynch’s lead and let the songs speak for themselves. without any explanations whatsoever, that soft/loud dynamic, that screaming/sweet juxtaposition. that is the pixies.

come back.

pearl jam: s/t.

bless the sweethearts over at the ten club, for sending my copy of pearl jam’s new album a few days early and rewarding me for pre-ordering with a free bootleg cd of a nyc new years eve show from 1992!

you know, we’re all friends here, so i can confess to you that after tolerating riot act, i had pretty low expectations for the self-titled eighth studio album (ninth, if you count lost dogs). still, they’re my favorite band, and as soon as the cd arrived in the mailbox i immediately cancelled my plans for an afternoon nap and rushed into bed for an uninterrupted listen.

let me just get a few less important things out of the way: firstly, the album art is weird (including darkly gruesome shots of the band members surrounded by dirt, bugs, and severed heads). and i fear that the stark avacodo cover art (which is so ridiculous it had many fans convinced that the anti-climactic unveiling was part of some lame april fool's joke ) could cost this album the classic rock status it deserves. secondly, releasing a self-titled album is lazy and bland, no matter what kind of statement you're hoping to make by doing it so late in your career.

having said that, this album rocks. no, it really rocks, in a straight up, no nonsense sort of way. look, if you’re waiting for another album like ten, then you're stupid. if ten came out today, you would hate it. the timing was such a crucial part of what made that album the relic that it has become. similarly, pearl jam is relevant to today’s music and i sincerely hope that with the current resurgence of rock n’ roll, this album will get all of the attention and appreciation it deserves.

so, if you stopped listening after "last kiss," you might want to get back in touch with the band who brought you four hit songs with their debut release so many angst-ridden years ago. pearl jam is full of memorable rockers like "worldwide suicide"(the first single), "life wasted," and "comatose." and the slower songs ("parachutes," "inside job") are nothing to fall asleep to. the bluesy lovesick ballad, "come back," will make you tip your fedora forward and nod with solemn approval.

the album is catchy like the stones, ballsy like the who, and even squeezes beatles-sweet sentiments inbetween. as a whole, it proves what i have known for ten plus years; pearl jam will not go down in history as another washed up band hailing from seattle. they will continue to evolve, (regardless of how many fans they alienate along the way) until they find themselves standing humbly alongside the very same rock heroes who have inspired them.