Return of The Top 5

1. The Return of Oscillate (Chop Suey, April 22nd)

I didn’t actually make it out to this event, but it’s return is quite welcome. The long running experimental electronic night is a much needed alternative to the prevalence of dance-oriented electronic music events in Seattle. I’ll definitely be paying attention to future line-ups at this monthly.

2. No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

The Coen Brothers movie was a fantastic, atypical thriller that helped expand the vocabulary of cinematic expense, while frustrating moviegoers expecting a straightforward resolution. It turns out the adaptation was incredibly faithful, thought there’s something about McCarthy’s sparse prose that accentuates the methodical amorality of Chigurgh. You never get inside his head, but you don’t need to, and you wouldn’t understand him any better if you did.

3. Korg DS-10 for Nintendo DS

What could possibly make the Nintendo DS, a portable video game system with innovative control elements like a touchscreen, microphone input, and dual displays, even better? How about a full-fledged modular synthesizer, drum machine, and step sequencer modeled on the Korg MS-10 hardware synth, all in one convenient cartridge? With plenty of memory for saving preset sounds and patterns, my Nintendo DS is now a secondary portable music studio.

4. Moth/Wolf Cub by Burial and Four Tet (Warp Records)

No artwork (well, black on black artwork, which might as well be no artwork). No previews online. No tracklisting. No advance copies. Two of the most unique producers around join forces for one super limited edition split vinyl release that sold out in no time at all. Yes, this is on my top 5 even though I haven;t seen or heard it. But I’m anxiously awaiting the appearance of the vinyl rip. Preferably in FLAC format…fingers crossed.

5. Food Lifeline

I spent a few hours here on Saturday, helping sort 2,500 pounds of frozen carrots into 3 pound baggies with a group of Virginia Tech alums. This non-profit turns 95% of it’s donations into food that it distributes to the needy and hungry of Western Washington on a daily basis, with the help of volunteer groups and donations from grocery stores and food producers. Last year they gave out 21 million pounds of food from a variety of sources. They have a letter carriers food drive coming up, and there are other ways individuals can help out.

Junior Boys & Max Tundra @ Neumo’s

The first thing I noticed about Ben Jacobs, the man better known as Max Tundra, was how incredibly short he was.  I caught my first glimpse of him as he strolled across the main floor at Neumo’s last night, to go hang out at the merch table before his show started, short enough that he was barely noticed by the still-thin crowd. Maybe that has something to do with his larger than life, ADD stage show. For one man with a few keyboards and assorted toy instruments, he sure did command attention.

The music on his three full-length albums is composed with the aid of Amiga computers, outdated samplers, and an assortment of musical oddities, from melodica to Moog, then topped with his voice (and once in a while, his sister Becky’s). It’s dense, spastic, ADD-inspired pop that can’t keep still, and doesn’t leave so much as a 16th note of rest, yet still retains a bewildering accessibility. It would be impossible to re-create these compositions live, without hiring a rather large band of rather talented musicians, ones who could keep up with his off-kilter rhythmic sense and non-traditional arrangements, so instead he relies on prerecorded backing tracks, and lot of personality.

As soon as the first note of his live set started, he was off, twitching his arms and bouncing around the stage uncontrollably, snapping back into position at the mic whenever it was time to deliver some lyrics. This sort of quirky, bouncy pop isn’t exactly what I would expect before Junior Boys, but it definitely works. Leaning heavily on his new album, Parallax Error Beheads You, but drawing on material from all three full lengths, he kept the crowd bouncing and laughing, despite some regrettable sound issues. Is Neumo’s trying to convert their bass bins into sonic weapons for military use? For the most part, it wasn’t too bad, just extra loud and fuzzy in the low end, but the bass-heavy track “The Entertainment” suffered the most from the sternum-rattling pulse of low end. He finished up with a cover of “Goodbye, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen Adieu”, and then departed for the merch table, to sell limited edition downloadable versions of his record packaged with a can of soup. Seriously.

Now normally, it would be tough to follow up an act like Max Tundra, but Junior Boys benefited from being 1) incredibly popular (the entire dancefloor and balcony were packed to capacity by the time their set started) and 2) extremely tight. Augmenting their synthpop with a live drummer, the band played through pristine renditions of some of their best material, bringing a huge cheer when they closed out their main set with “In The Morning”, and drove the dancers into a slow-burn frenzy during their encore with the long krautrock crescendo of “Under The Sun”. The only song I was hoping to hear that they skipped over was “Bits & Pieces” “Dull to Pause” [Thanks for the correction, Donna!] from the new album, Begone Dull Care. Even with this omission though, their set was satisfying and fun, if not as innovative a spectacle as Mr. Tundra’s opening set.

Efterklang @ Nectar

Plus Peter Broderick (Slight Return).

It seems like only yesterday that Peter Broderick was here at Nectar, opening for local alt-folkie Tiny Vipers. Well, maybe not yesterday, but it was barely more than a month ago. Now here he is again, on the same stage, with the same assortment of instruments and looping devices, playing some of the same songs, for a somewhat larger crowd. There’s an odd sense of deja vu, but also a sense of anticipation. When he introduces the folk song that his father played for him as a child, those of us who were here for his last show know that the introduction becomes a part of the composition. We watch the faces around us as we wait for these little surprises to crop up. We know that look people get at those moments of musical epiphany, because we were here making that same look not too long ago.

It would be easy to write off his little musical tricks as gimmicks, but they’re not simple novelty. There’s a real sense of showmanship to them, of acknowledging his methods and incorporating them into the creation, rather than trying to make everything seamless. He keeps reminding you of what he’s doing, layering, looping, and manipulating; not as a way to distract from what he’s actually playing, but as a way to heighten appreciation. Not only is a he a brilliant instrumentalist and singer, but he’s also thinking and planning two steps ahead of himself at all times.

At one point he had the whole audience repeat some spoken lines after him, while recording us with a handheld recorder. Supposedly, this will be included somewhere on his next album.

For all of Peter Broderick’s talent as a solo musician, the real main event tonight was Efterklang, the 7-piece (8 if you count their soundman) Danish/American collective responsible for the 2007 album Parades, a sweeping epic that somehow combines melancholy indie rock, wisps of electronic texture, choral vocals, and marches. Going in, I was a little worried. How can something so huge, so layered, and so intricately arranged, be reproduced by a handful of musicians?

I was wrong to be worried. Experiencing these songs live was every bit as rich and rewarding as hearing them on record. All 7 of the musicians on stage sang and played multiple instruments, often switching instruments or spots on stage mid-song. Between 7 part vocal harmonies, and a miasma of guitar, bass, drums, piano, violin, flute, trumpet, glockenspiel, shakers, tambourines, and laptop, there was never a sense of anything lacking from the arrangement. Not to say that it was overwhelming, or overworked. They moved from stately and restrained to dramatic and bombastic, delicate to aggressive, ecstatic to bittersweet.

Since this was the first date of their US tour, we were also treated to the world premiere of several brand new songs, many of them only known by working titles like “Loose Ends” or “I Was Playing Drums”. These new songs were just as intricately crafted as the more familiar material, feeling just as fully realized and well-thought-out. They’re going to be spending time on the road, playing these songs every night and refining them. I can’t even imagine how good they’re going to sound once they’re finally recorded.

I missed this band when they came through town a year ago, and I regretted it immediately. Now I regret it even more, having seen them fully live up to their potential on stage. But at least I got a chance to rectify my error, and now I know not to miss them again.

First Snows & Last Leaves

I’ve been slaving away in the guise of my musical alter ego Miniature Airlines lately, and the end result is a free single for you to download, First Snows & Last Leaves. It’s two new tracks by me, plus 4 remixes by several other great producers: The Celibacy Club, Hjalti, Utofbu, and The Quarry Stone. Please download and enjoy. Hey! Shameless self promotion! What else is a personal blog for?

M83 @ Neumo’s

Tuesday night shows can be such a hit-or-miss affair. throw in a holiday weekend, and you’re practically begging for anemic attendance. Luckily, last night’s M83 show at Neumo’s suffered none of that malaise, packing the house to an almost uncomfortable level (not uncommon for this venue).

School of Seven Bells opened, and I have to admit to not paying super close attention to them. What I heard from the side room sounded pleasant, but not exactly revolutionary. Their synth heavy sound was a good complement for the headliner though, full of drum machine patterns and breathy female vocal harmonies. It’s probably worth a closer listen at home, but with the prospect of full-on new-wave/shoegaze assault from M83 coming up, it ended up sounding like sonic wallpaper in the club.

Anticipation built pretty quickly on the main floor once SVIIB was done, and the band milked it for a while before casually strolling on stage. Frontman Anthony Gonzalez sauntered out first, letting loose a squall of rhythmic filter sweeps before the rest of the band joined him, launching into “Unrecorded,” from their first album. It was a nice nod to past before the rest of their set, which was pulled almost entirely from their latest album, Saturdays=Youth,  which I guess could be described as their breakthrough record. It could also be called a nod to the past in it’s own way, with it’s sonic and aesthetic referencing of the 80s, from the Human League to Cocteau Twins.

Some bands that mesh electronics with live playing have a hard time pulling off a live show. The experience can be like karaoke if it’s not handled right. M83 never fell into this trap, keeping plenty of human playing in the mix at all times, most notably from the absolutely metronomic human drummer sitting behind a wall of plexiglass. They managed to sound dense without sacrificing clarity, tight without sacrificing spontaneity. They were in town only 6 months ago, and I have a feeling the constant touring has refined their show. It would have been interesting to see them last time around, and compare to the precision of last night’s show. Maybe they were always this good.

Last Night

I was at Nectar, watching MSNBC on mute, when I decided to stroll down the street for a quick wifi fix, so I could see some other coverage. I found an open network at Cafe Lladro and hopped onto Google Reader, scrolled through a few posts. I was just settling into a chair outside in the rain when the cheering began.

I ran back inside, and joined the applause, the yelling, the whistling, the hugs and high fives. We hadn’t allowed ourselves to acknowledge the growing sense of inevitability over the last stretch, for fear that it wouldn’t materialize; so when the moment finally arrived, it felt unreal. Every state that tipped the scale further past the magic number 270 was greeted with disbelief. Awe. Bewilderment. Celebration. Elation.

I read later that there was dancing on the streets in Capitol Hill, and Downtown. Masses of people blocked intersections, police arrived, and smiled, and no one was hurt or arrested or harassed. A drag queen led the crowd in an impromptu rendition of the National Anthem from the rooftop of Neighbors.

It was beautiful, and it was hard not to be moved.

***

There is a dark spot on an otherwise bright night though. While the United Stated became the first Western Industrialized nation to elect a member of an ethnic minority to it’s highest office; while a man who would not have been allowed to even vote for President not too long ago became President-Elect; while the practitioners of a disastrous Neoconservative ideology were soundly trounced and turned into a regional party for the time being, the state I called home for 15 years voted to deny basic human rights to a segment of its population.

We did good. But we can do better next time.

She Will Survive

I didn’t really expect anything to be happening in sleepy little Fremont on a Sunday night, but here at the Triangle Lounge, I have been proven wrong. It’s odd enough that I’m here in the first place, since all my prior experience with this place has been underwhelming to say the least. But since every other watering hole on the main street is dead, here I am.

At karaoke night.

It’s not bad as karaoke nights go. There’s the usual mix of tuneless warbling and serious singing skills. Everything starts to get interesting when the bartender comes on though. His hair is done in an ironic 80s retro razor-stripe quasi-mullet, and his belly tattoo reads “Fucking Innocent”. He’s chosen “Gin & Juice,” but the Snoop Dogg lyrics scrolling across the monitor in the corner are not the ones he’s belting out. I don’t recognize what he’s rapping, but it’s dirty. Bitches and Hoes and Booty and Dick. It’s unexpected and the crowd is eating it up.

A friend of the bartenders, a tall lanky hipster with a trucker hat and handlebar moustache is up next. He needs to top his friends performance, so he climbs up on the bar, struts across it, taking sips from people’s drinks between verse of ZZ Top’s “Tush”.

It’s calmer now. The singing ebbs and flows, as good-to-awful renditions of everything from “Summertime” to “Bohemian Rhapsody” are performed.

Up now is a girl who sang earlier. She’s doing “I Will Survive,” strutting around the room and singing directly to her friends, to random people in the audience. She’s completely tossed, and only knows half the words, but she’s selling the performance. We’re into it. She’s wagging her finger in my face as if she’s my jilted lover, admonishing me for thinking she’d crumble, thinking she’d lay down and die, but no, not her. She rounds the corner of the bar to my left, and I swivel on the stool to see her climb up onto the counter. It’s not the steadiest climb, and I flinch, but she makes it. She’s upright, pointing across the bar over everyone’s heads, letting us know she’ll survive.

Then she falls. Straight backwards, crashing to the floor with a thud, rattling the bottles of Tequila that her head collides with on the way down.

There’s a collective gasp, but only a momentary pause in the music, as seconds later, she’s up again, having only missed a line or two. Concerned friends rush for her, but she doesn’t need their help. She trots out from behind the bar, singing and pointing as if nothing happened, leaving the bar back to examine the bottles she amazingly didn’t break. The song ends and we all clap like we’ve just seen a virtuoso performance, and we have, sort of.

I call it a night. How can you top that?

Four Days of Beats

Sleepwalking

The Moment of Panic

Last night was the big D.iscontent show at the Baltic Room, where Timm and I debuted the live sets we’ve been working on almost non-stop since the beginning of the year. It was a lot of fun, with great visuals, a lineup of excellent DJs on either side of our live sets, and good turnout (especially for a holiday Sunday).

But there was one moment of sheer terror.

We’d showed up to sound check early in the evening, getting all or connections sorted out and hooking up all the gear to our laptops and the mixer. Everything was sounding good, and it was great to finally hear the sets on a big, booming PA. Timm’s set ran smoothly, and towards the end I got up behind the DJ booth to set up my gear next tot he decks. I get everything powered up and running, fire up my software, and take a look to make sure the software is responding to the gear.

And guess what? It’s not.

I restart the software. Still nothing. I unplug my gear and plug it back into the laptop. Nothing.

I turn to Timm with a sinking feeling in my stomach, and tell him he needs to cover for me. He’s a total trooper, so he improvs the end of his set, dragging out his last song longer than planned, with more variation than he’s practiced. Meanwhile, I hit the power on my laptop and begin the long slow boot back into Windows.

When it finally boots up, I plug my gear back in. Up pops a window, asking if I’d like to install new hardware. This is the moment when I reeeeeally start to worry. I cross myself and mutter a few obscenities. Fortunately, the solution is simple; I switch the two USB cables for my MIDI gear and audio interface. Everything clicks. My software responds. Disaster averted. The show goes on as planned. Which is good, since I was one more error message away from committing ritual suicide.