It's shoegazey, it's lo-fi, it's sludgy, it's psychedelic and even a little poppy. It's Monomyth, and they make me miss the 902. Listen to their self-titled release in full on their Bandcamp page.
June 22, 2012 The Rio Theatre Vancouver, British Columbia Sure, I've written about Best Coast, Jack White/the White Stripes and Jesus and Mary Chain a lot, but I actually rarely write about my favourite
artists. That's because I usually have the greatest difficulty
articulating exactly how the artists that move me the most move me the
way they do.
Hawaii-born, Japan-bred, Baltimore-based guitarist Dustin Wong is
one of those artists. I've seen live videos of Dustin before, so I knew
he was going to be great - interesting, even - but I didn't
think he was going to steal the show; after all, looped music,
especially by a solo musician, can get pretty repetitive, especially
since most loop-based songs start with the same slow layering process.
But Dustin utilized so many different sounds and playing styles
throughout his fifty-minute set - the most delicate finger-picking; open
chord strumming; muted picking to create plinking, percussive notes;
low, thuddy, percussive notes; slides; straight-up shredding and
sudden intentional stutters and stops, all filtered through a
fire-hazard platter of effect pedals - that there wasn't a single dull
moment while he was onstage.
As I watched Dustin, leaning forward in my seat with my eyes
transfixed on him the entire time, mouth often ajar in utter entranced
awe, I wondered what it must be like to be someone like him: how does
someone like Dustin see and hear the world? Is his head filled with
intricate, ethereal soundscapes all day, providing his life
with an endless soundtrack that would make having a bad day impossible?
Just watching his body movements - sometimes rocking,
often swaying, almost always with his eyes closed - I could tell music
just pours out
of the guy, and we aren't hearing a quarter of it because he
only has so many hands, so many fingers, so many pedals and so many
strings.
And
flow the music did: even with intentional stutters and stops, all of
his songs immediately segued into one another. Not only did the lack of
breaks afford few appropriate opportunities to applaud (we the audience
actually didn't applaud once while he played), but his performance was
one of those that is so captivating, the
audience doesn't want to so much as let out a clap or whisper a
sound until the whole performance is over, for fear of interrupting
(tainting, even) the spectacle. But when it ended, man, we erupted. We gave Dustin all of our energy we had in return for his, but he deserved far more than we could give him.
One would never imagine that Dustin Wong's elaborate compositions - his symphonies
- exist in someone as unassuming and beyond shy as him (he said nothing
all night except in nervously introducing himself and thanking the
Mountain Goats before his set and quickly and humbly tweeting "Thank
you" afterwards). They ought to come from older, more experienced individuals who've spent
years and years plying their crafts, not a kid in Cons and a tight,
cream-coloured sweater with a cartoon owl on it.
But fuck looks. Dustin Wong is one of the most inventive young minds
in music today. And that he's so young (or at least he looks so young) means fans can expect many more years of amazing music from him to come. If
Dustin continues to evolve the way he has, such as with his increasingly
prominent drum samples, vocal "waaaaaa-AAAAAAaaaaahhhhhh"s
and yelps of varying pitches and other primal vocal gymnastics (all
which he masterfully incorporated into his current style), he's
bound to crowd everyone's radar sooner or later.
Not even when it was
announced last month that a book chronicling Yo La Tengo and the rise of
indie rock was going to be released, and I was pretty damned excited
about that.
Love Rock Revolution: K Records and the Rise of Independent Music,
out July 10, details the history of the seminal Olympia, WA-based label
co-founded by Beat Happening's Calvin Johnson in 1982. Featuring interviews with figures associated with the label over its thirty-year-existence, there's a good chance artists including Beck, Mirah and members of Modest Mouse, Built To
Spill and Bikini Kill will make appearances. Here's hoping.
Love Rock Revolution will also be accompanied by a soundtrack that will be available from the author's website here between July 10 and July 17.
I think I need to move to the sticks where I wouldn't be constantly bombarded by shows. New album, new tour. Garage/blues rock vets the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Nov. 14 at the Biltmore:
I never thought I'd hear the names "Roddy Piper" or "Iron Sheik" at a Mountain Goats show, but then, I never thought my favourite lyricist of all time, the Russian lit- and Marxist-reading John Darnielle would have been a fan of professional wrestling - one who knew what the hell he was talking about, no less. Here's the song John was introducing, an ode to Ox Baker:
I don't know who Mousse T. is, and I think this song is kind of old, so
I'm surprised I haven't heard it until now, especially given my love of mash-ups. The vocals and music mix perfectly:
June 15, 2012 Commodore Ballroom Vancouver, British Columbia
Last
Friday, the Dandy Warhols, one of my favourite bands since eighth
grade, returned to the Commodore Ballroom in support of their newest
album This Machine. Even though I wasn't able to see them with my
best friend who loves them as much as I do this time, unlike when they
played the Commodore two Decembers ago, it was still one of the best
times of my life, let alone one of the most fun shows I've seen.
San Fran psych-rockers Sleepy Sun opened the night. Despite their generic psychedelia, they had
a few impressive moments which was more than I'd expected based on their latest album Spine Hits (ATP Recordings, 2012). Lead-singer Bret Constantino's electronic
harmonica-type thing, which was shaped like a fist-sized box, sounded pretty cool, too.
As the mediocre portion of the night drew to a close, it was time for what everyone in the
building was chomping at the bit to see. The Dandy Warhols emerged with
keyboardist Zia McCabe and guitarist Pete Holmström in
particular looking as fashionable as ever. Pete also looked as
disengaged from the rest of the band as ever, even physically as he
stood the furthest away from everyone else; I often wonder how
much he enjoys being in the Dandies, especially considering his outspokenness against the band's creative process.
With the crowd still roaring, the Dandies began not with a bang with one
of their big pop hits but by drawing out the audience's anticipation
with the hazy, rush-building "Be In." It didn't take long for the
Dandies to bust out their myriad pop-hits, though, and when they did,
they pulled out pretty much all the stops: the breathtaking one-two
combo of "Horse Pills" and "Bohemian Like You" (literally breathtaking: try singing
these songs back-to-back at the top of your lungs with my recent
respiratory problems amidst a blanket of pot smoke), "Get Off," "Last Junkie," "We Used To Be
Friends," "Boys Better," "Minnesoter," the most surprisingly good song
of the night for me (I love the song, but it was even better live than
I'd expected) ... Then, there were the other best songs of the night:
the sultry "I Love You," "You Come in Burned" which sounds so much more
exotic live with Courtney playing the clacky percussion that while not
terribly audible on record rang throughout the venue, and the washboard,
ranch-clopper "Country Leaver."
Of course, the Dandies couldn't cram all of their most popular
songs into their set. In fact, I don't think they played any songs from
either Odditorium or Earth To the Dandy Warhols ... which
was too bad mainly because I'd really looked forward to hearing the slow
version of "New Country" again; their twangy, countrified version of
"New Country" was amazing and one of the top highlights of the
last time I saw them. Lead-Dandy Courtney Taylor-Taylor played a slow,
solo version of "Every Day Should Be a Holiday" on electric guitar,
though. That was a pretty acceptable trade-up.
Also different this time around was an awesome keyboard freestyle
by Zia that was full of fat, warpy, spaceship tones and which Brent DeBoer
and Courtney joined (Brent of course on drums and Courtney with a lot of
palm-mutes and random noises with his mouth).
Unfortunately, a few more songs after that groovy freestyle (maybe even
just a couple), the Dandies wrapped up their show. They didn't play an
encore, but unlike probably a lot of people, I actually didn't mind: not
only did the Dandy Warhols play long enough that I didn't feel cheated
without more music, but the entire encore process is pretty hokey and
feels so canned/phoned in. Also, Zia was "drunk enough" to sing a cute
little unaccompanied ditty at the end of the night, so that was enough
of a bonus for me.
If "I Was Denied" by Thee Oh Sees doesn't make you want to abandon all brain, shake until you break and rock like the world is ending tomorrow, ... I don't know how to end this thought without saying something ignorant or disparaging. These people know what I'm talking about: that crashing chorus of relentless guitars and "la-la la la la"s, steady primitive drumbeat and a riff so catchy, not even the Loch Ness Monster could escape its clutch.
Free shows by the Evaporators, the Jay Arner Band, the High Drops and a hell of a lot more. Also, a shit-ton of non-musical things. Full event details and performance schedules on CFDV's site.
Every time I listen to "Taste the Floor" by Jesus and Mary Chain, I think it's the coolest song in the world. There's just nothing like the opening guitars that lash your ears to shreds like a whip, leaving them stinging as screeching noise pierces through the steady chug of distortion like an electrified javelin.
Combined with the dreary lyrics, "Taste the Floor" has always made me want to do some kind of sludgy, sedated Twist when I listen to it:
San Fran's Thee Oh Sees are possibly the best ROCK-AND-ROLL band today, and they'll
be hitting the Rickshaw Theatre here in early October. Sure, it won't be as intimate as their New York show depicted in Pitchfork's +1, but it's going to be REALLY fucking good. Need proof? Just watch my two favourite videos from Thee Oh Sees' KEXP session from a couple of years ago, and come rock with me in October:
Thom Yorke at Bonnaroo last night: "This song is for Jack White. We saw him yesterday. A big thank-you to him, but we can't tell you why. You'll find out."
Holy. Shit. Jack White? Radiohead? Good thing(s) coming. For many like me, collaborations don't come bigger than this.
Few songs make me feel as badassed as Joy Division's "Shadowplay" from their 1979 debut album Unknown Pleasures (Factory Records). The song is cold, distant and mechanical, yet there is an undeniable palpability that only comes through a certain contradictory warmth primarily embedded in the unsettling bass line that prowls beneath a shower of cymbals like a stalker in the rain. There's nothing quite like the way the predatory guitar riff just pounces on the victim/listener at 1:59 - truly the song's highpoint for me.
10 bands, 10 bucks. Music Waste, Vancouver's dirt-cheapest music festival celebrating the best in local/local-ish underground music, kicks off tonight at the Waldorf. No show over $5 (except tonight's) or $15 for a three-day pass. Click here for tonight's line-up and here for the complete schedule.
November 28, 2011 The Orpheum Theatre Vancouver, British Columbia
The National have been one of my absolute favourite bands for at least the past four years - my second favourite band lyrically, behind the Mountain Goats. After having swooned over live National video after live National video, needless to say, I had pretty damned high expectations of them. Although my expectations weren't impossibly high, the National, as good as they were that late-November night at their first of two sold-out shows in a row at the immaculate Orpheum Theatre, still unfortunately fell short of them.
I always thought the National were one of the tightest bands today. However, there were a few moments when the band seemed completely out of sync: a missed drum-kick on "Secret Meeting," a mistimed lyric here or a completely missed lyric there.
Far more glaring - distracting and even unbearable - was some of Matt Berninger's vocal performance. Matt possesses one of my favourite voices ever: a velvet-smooth baritone so soothing and soft yet aggressive when it needs to be. However, he should NOT yell. EVER. I love well-executed yelling, but Matt's yelling was strictly piercing and very nearly ruined many of my favourite National songs including "Abel," "Mr. November" and "Secret Meeting." Matt's "intense" vocal performance also seemed to have gassed him quite a bit, as he kept running out of breath and thereby missing lyrics.
I admit I actually nodded off during some of the National's more sombre songs. I mainly attribute that to having been seated in the middle of the upper balcony. Not being immediately immersed in the band's and floor-level crowd's energy definitely doesn't help bring up my energy. When I'm so far removed from the action, I don't feel very motivated to do anything but pretty much stand still and keep my mouth shut: no dancing, no singing, not even mouthing along with lyrics. I'm sure I would have felt more alive if I was on the floor near the stage when Matt went into the crowd, but I could hardly even enjoy the moment vicariously, as I could only see Matt suddenly disappear and the distant crowd erupt. I'm sure the audience around me felt the same way which was why they were so still and silent as well.
Even some of the good aspects of the show were not perfect. Almost every song (if not every song) got the brass treatment. Being a huge brass fan, I was overjoyed, except the horns periodically drowned out the rest of the band.
Despite all of my complaints, the National did put on quite a good show. They played a generous four-song encore which included "Mr. November," "Terrible Love," "Lucky You" and an entirely acoustic version of "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks" which closed the show. In fact, the only songs I wanted to hear that the National didn't play were "Karen," "Lit Up," "Start A War," "Wasp Nest" and "Apartment Story."
Furthermore, my less-than-favourable seat in the upper balcony wasn't all bad. It did provide a great cinematic, panoramic view of the show which allowed me to simultaneously watch the slowly swirling patterned lights cascade across the large chandelier that hung from the painted domed ceiling and look down, down, down upon the band as it and the rows of audience members' heads in front of me were silhouetted by those same blue and white lights.
Finally, I have to hand it to the National for their visuals. A gigantic screen onstage provided a live feed of the band members backstage minutes before the show, up to and including the moment they came out. The screen also displayed shots of the audience from various angles throughout the night including the band's perspective. It sure beat every other "artistic" visual I've seen on screens or projected otherwise at shows (ahem, Feist).
So, a good show overall, despite technical problems and my physical and emotional distances from, well, the show. I'm going to give the National the benefit of a doubt and say perhaps they were just warming up/saving their A-game for their next night's performance. After all, the second show of back-to-back performances is usually the one to catch.
Click here for more photos of the National's first night at the Orpheum Theatre.
I was in tenth grade and saw them play "Unmade Bed" on Late Night with Conan O'Brien.
The only exposure I'd had to Sonic Youth prior this performance was their video for "Teen Age Riot" on MuchMusic's late-night alternative show The Wedge. I dug "Teen Age Riot," but it was Sonic Youth's ability to so seamlessly infuse a song as dreamy and melodic as "Unmade Bed" with such destructive blasts of sustained noise and then bring everything back down to that same dreamy state in which they started that drew me into the band:
It's
not like collecting records is like collecting stamps, or beermats, or
antique thimbles. There's a whole world in here, a nicer, dirtier, more
violent, more peaceful, more colorful, sleazier, more dangerous, more
loving world than the world I live in; there is history, and geography,
and poetry, and countless other things I should have studied at school,
including music."
- Nick Hornby, High Fidelity (Victoria Gollancz Ltd., 1995)
May 23, 2012 The Biltmore Cabaret Vancouver, British Columbia
After
having missed Vancouver punk trio Nü Sensae three times, I finally got
to see them when they opened for Best Coast at the Biltmore Cabaret. Although Nü Sensae's set only lasted twenty minutes, drummer Daniel Pitout looked like he was convulsing after the first
song. The intensity with which he and the rest of the band played is why I for once, reluctantly, kept my earplugs in for more than a few seconds; in fact, I kept them in for the entire set. It was definitely a smart move, because when I took them
out for a second to hear how loud Nü Sensae were, I felt like I'd been cast into the first level of Hell (the deeper levels being reserved for heavy- and doom-metal - truly Satanic shit).
Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, to say the plugs took away from Nü Sensae would be an understatement. I tried only wearing the plugs
halfway in, and even then, I could hardly hear Andrea Lukic's
blood-curdling, Kim Gordon-like screams. I realize it seems stupid to complain about earplugs taking away from shows, but I really wonder what the point of going to shows is if one can hardly hear anything. Maybe I just need to find less-isolating earplugs - or stop caring even in the slightest about my body's well-being.
After the snarling punk of Nü Sensae, another trio, Portland, OR's
Unknown Mortal Orchestra, took the stage and delivered hands down the
worst performance I'd ever seen. They weren't bad at their instruments,
but they weren't interesting in the slightest either; I could not have
fathomed more generic indie music. Until UMO, Oh
Land and Dan Sartain were the worst bands I'd ever seen, but to Oh
Land's and Dan's credits, they were just boring; UMO were
so annoyingly bad, I couldn't even bring myself to pretend I was into
them. I frequently scanned the floor behind and beside me, I was so
bored, and was shocked to find people actually enjoying UMO.
That, or there were far better actors than me at the Biltmore that
night. I
thought my eyes were going to become stuck behind my head, I rolled my
eyes so much during UMO.
As excruciating as UMO were, Best Coast were completely worth the seemingly endless
torture. Although now a fleshier four-piece featuring new
guitarist/bassist Rafe Mandel and Brett Mielke replacing Ali Koehler on drums, I couldn't tell much of a difference from the
last two times I saw Best Coast. Despite a few slightly missed cues between frontperson Bethany Cosentino and Bobb Bruno (also on guitar and bass) and minor malfunctions with Bobb's amp during the encore, Best Coast still put on an all-around solid performance.
In typical Biltmore charm, I stood so close to Bethany, at near-eye-level, that I could have hugged her just by sticking out my arms. But that would have been getting a little too personal, so I settled for snatching her second bottle of water; I'm now two-for-three in snatching Bethany's water at Best Coast shows (someone snatched her first bottle before the encore, prompting her to ask, "Who took my water?"
when the band returned to the stage. So, I decided to wait until the band was done for sure to make my move).
Bethany's bottle of water in one hand and Best Coast's set list in the other, and that was another show marked off of my calender - another ripped ticket stub in my desk drawer. And speaking of set lists, that Nü Sensae had theirs scrawled on a piece of bent
cardboard was funny in its DIYness. I would have snatched it, but I
didn't know where I'd keep it. It would have kind of detracted from my
bedroom set list wall, even if I taped the cardboard flat. Also, I didn't want to
keep that piece of cardboard on me the entire show.
Click here for more photos of Best Coast, and click below to watch a video that must have been taken by the person who stood right beside me, because the video shows pretty much the exact view I had:
“The way the music business is now…well, there are just so many bands,”
she exasperates. “No one is critical. It’s all about having as much
music as possible. Nobody listens to anything for more than 30 seconds.”
For someone that can spend up to “five fucking hours” perfecting one
simple guitar riff, this change in the musical landscape is frustrating.
Bands Marnie once looked up to and adored like Hella (whose drummer now
plays with her), Ponytail and Battles aren’t on the forefront of the
scene. A new crew has taken over. “I don’t hear any [new music] that
gets me excited,” she complains. “That is the worst part. I like that
healthy sense of competition. It’s what I thrive from and it’s gone.”
I don't particularly like her music, apart from a few songs. I wouldn't see her live. Maybe I just like her opinions, although I sometimes disagree with her. Maybe I just appreciate her outspokenness. But then, why do I hate the likes of Morrissey and Axl Rose for their outspokenness? And I sure as hell disagree with pretty much everything I can think of either of them ever having said.
Click here to read the rest of Marnie Stern's interview with hearty magazine.
Maritimer, recovered minimalist, Contributing Music Reviews Editor at Vancouver Weekly. Published profile: www.vancouverweekly.com/author/leslie-ken-chu Twitter: https://twitter.com/LeslieKenChu Instagram: https://instagram.com/record_lows/