Monday, August 28, 2006

Rock on the water, Ted Leo in the sky

City sponsored concerts don’t seem like the kind of place you’d find a kind of band like this. Flanked by Pizzeria UNO and a stop for the water taxi, Ted Leo and the crowd of hipsters and outcasts they drew stuck out like a sore thumb on the touristy Pier 17. Which is what made the show that much better. In the overcast night with the Brooklyn skyline glittering in the background, I bet the cars speeding by on the FDR wished they were down for the party.

Openers DC Snipers warmed up the crowd with a moderate show of fuzz guitars and tight jeans. It was enjoyable, toe-tapping rock, but nothing too out of the ordinary for these deceivingly-not-from-DC guys. Coming into this show, I didn’t know much about Ted Leo. I had liked what I heard but hearings were sporadic and often in the background of various parties. But I was always interested, and it was a free show in my home city so I figured I should make an appearance. If anything can be said about Ted Leo + the Pharmacists live is that they are fucking tight. Going through the clean, swaying riffs of “Biomusicology” or the clangy chords of “Dial Up,” they play perfectly together, which is especially hard to do outside. No one was wanting for more vocals or less bass, and everyone was having fun. And in a crowd of jaded New York hipsters, who take pride in their inability to be impressed, this is quite an accomplishment. By the time they came around to “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?” (with the irresistibly sing along-able “ooh eee ooh eee ooh” falsetto that sounds oddly like Josie and the Pussycats) no one could help but dancing. God knows how they kept it up for over two hours, but they did, never slacking off but sometimes robbing the crowd of their desire to sing along by testing out new songs. They played with the punk rock ethic of Leo’s past but with a cooler and more evolved sound. It’s punk rock for the liberal-arts major crowd.

A band like Ted Leo will probably never have a hit, but will always have a devoted following. Theirs is the name that will pop up in bar conversations in between who’s playing at NorthSix and unfiltered Lucky Strike breaks outside. But their fan base is wider than you’d think. There were teenagers and 40 year olds of all walks of life enjoying the scene outside, and probably more wandering in to see what all the noise was about. Maybe they’ll go home and look through the back catalog of all their albums, or maybe they continued on to the Sharper Image. But that night the fans didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Noise for the masses



Red Jumpsuit Apparatus- Don't You Fake It

My friend and colleague Matt and I were speaking of this band the other day, and realized that they are ripe for modern rock stereotype. Let’s start with the album cover. Ok, the have their name in a broken font in front of a dark picture with some art-nouveau swirl designs. They have the long, nonsensical name, the obligatory song in 6/8, a smattering of piano here, some screeching vocals there, and of course the 2nd to last song a slow, romantic acoustic number so the girls can look past the scruffy hair and see the talented boys beneath. And they are talented, if you have the patience to listen and not cast them off as another group of 20-something noise rockers.

They’ve managed to balance being edgy and melodic, though the melody could show through more at some points. Their single “Face Down” is bound to attract fans, with an easy to sing along chorus about spousal abuse that will earn them points for defending the ladies honor. And “Damn Regret” shows off an incredible combination of rhythm, power chords and upbeat melancholy. However, at points they can sound too much to the myriad screamo bands out there today. Songs like “Misery Loves Its Company” get a bit whiny with a raspy screech that has become all too common, but there is so much potential. These guys play tight and know how to write a great song. Sure they moan and groan a bit, but they’re 20, and that’s what all we post-adolescents do. Just sort through some of the sorrow and you’ve got a good album.

Monday, August 14, 2006

The Secret Machines- Ten Silver Drops

Two years after Now Here is Nowhere made little to no impact on the music scene, The Secret Machines are back again. The Secret Machines are, if anything, a thinking band. The theme of the album seems to be reflective isolation. After spending over a year on tour, they booked a studio in upstate New York and hid out there for three weeks writing and producing their own album. That must have attributed to the title of the first track, “Alone, Jealous and Stoned.” They have progressed, showing much more coherency and direction with this album than their previous effort. But what they’ve gained in direction they’ve lost in definition. The songs flow from one to another, connecting but not giving any sign that you’ve really moved on to a different song, mostly ending in Sgt. Pepper-esque noisy crescendos that almost blend seamlessly into the next intro. And whereas that works for say, Pink Floyd, they don’t seem to have a plan with it. It's just collection of songs that happen to sound all alike. Of course there are a few standouts here. One of the only fast-paced (and I use this term loosely) tunes “Lightning Blue Eyes” perfectly showcases this band at their best: crashing drums, soft harmonies, hopeful and open chords and solos piercing through catchy choruses. It’s the perfect song to dance around your living room alone to. But that’s back to the key point. This is not a social album. This is an album you put on when you come home half stoned from a party at 1am and listen to while you ponder the universe in a slight depression and drift to sleep. At its best it’s sneakily enjoyable, at its worst it’s somnolent, and all around it’s vague. Hopefully the next time around these self-produced boys will get some outside perspective, stop with the seclusion, and let everyone else in on the secret.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Yup

This is it. I don't think there's any way not to be pretentious about this, but I'm starting a blog based solely on my reviews and opinions of bands, albums, shows and anything else musical I can think of. It's about time I had a place to rant all of this. And maybe I'll get some writing experience out of this and make it so that by the time I get out of college I'm good enough to start doing something with music for the rest of my life. Or maybe someone else will want to write with/for me, and we can start a magazine, and take over the world. Or maybe people will just get pissed off and stop reading.

Now, since I couldn't think of any other way to start this, a review of a good album.

Say Anything- "...Is A Real Boy"

I’m just going to let you know that this is one of my favorite albums of the year, so I may be a bit biased in what I write. Headed up by judgemental-scenester-cum-bipolar-prodigy Max Bemis, “…Is A Real Boy” shows off the crater on his shoulder against all the critics and indie kids who are no doubt going to flock to songs that mock their very existence. He doesn’t hide the derision of the alt-rock genre, speaking clearly before the first song: “And the record begins with a song of rebellion.” They blast the critics, preemptively guessing the clichéd lines that will be used to describe them. With lyrics like “Your art/It brought me to my knees” and “You’re so perfect to please us/You make all the right noise” yelled back in angry harmony, most would be left speechless to label them as indie or alt or any conventional genre. And that’s what they’re going for. Spanning styles, they run through the darkly romantic “I Want To Know Your Plans” to the all-around-judgmental “Admit It!!” where they scoff the thrift shop hipsters yet still point out that they themselves worry about how much sex being a rock star will get them. No one is safe. I’m sure if they read this review they’d point out the pretentious use of hyphens in the 2nd sentence and the cliché of “no one is safe,” but that’s ok, because they include themselves in the ridicule. It’s not politics. It’s not a rebel yell. It’s rock. It’s great. That’s all you need to know.