onotob

Just About the Best Thing to Ever Happen Ever

KT Tunstall: Big Black Horse on Taratata (France)

KT Tunstall: I Want You Back (Jackson 5)

Thanks, Jon.

Weird Music

Ever since reading Andrew Weil’s The Marriage of the Sun and Moon, I have made a concerted effort to consciously mold my preferences and tastes. They are, after all, just patterns of reaction, and are completely under our control. Nothing about them makes them permanent or immutable.

So, when it comes to music (one of my true loves), I seek out new and strange music on a semi-regular basis and force myself to listen to it until either I’m certain I have no interest in exploring it further, or I become captivated by it.

Warp Record’s digital music service Bleep provides an exquisite means to this end. For about $10 an album you can sample some of the weirdest music currently being made. They’ve been expanding their library to include works from labels such as Ninja Tune and One Little Indian, so the breadth of styles available is really quite stunning.

Currently, my weird plate is filled with the new Beans, Björk’s score to Matthew Barney’s new film Drawing Restraint, and the new long player from The Books (as well as their recent collaboration with Scott Herren).

I’ll keep you posted (a likely story).

Great Band Names

Aching Sensibility

or

The Aching Sensibilities

Mystical Music Release vol 004

Greetings, everyone, and welcome to the next installment of my Mystical Music Release. It’s been almost six months since volume 003 graced your inboxes with its melodic wonderfulness, and for that I apologize. If I were me, I would love getting beautiful new music in my email at regular intervals, and I would be sorely upset if I were to suddenly take a six-month break from sending me music.

But trust me, my friends, these four albums are worth the wait.

As I’m sure you all already know from your religious readings of my web site, I have decided, from this release on, to purchase all of the albums I send to you in these messages. In the past, I have given out both purchased and downloaded music, but I decided that if I’m going to be handing out music to my friends, I should make sure at least one sale happens from the process. I will also be including Buy Me links on the web site cross-posting of this email. I will try to find outlets which are as few steps from the artist as possible (personal sites, label sites, etc.) so that as many of your hard-earned dollars as possible reach those responsible for your newfound happiness. I won’t be signing up for any reimbursement programs, so you can be assured that this change is for only the most altruistic reasons. Well, I want these artists to continue to produce their aural delights, so I guess it’s still selfishly inspired.

All that aside, I have collected here four albums which I am very excited about. I find myself having to exert a certain amount of self-control in order not to just explode with superlatives about these artists. Jon should feel fortunate that I have not strapped him into some kind of restraining device and forced him to listen to Sleater-Kinney’s “The Woods” until I was sure he loved it as much as I know he should.

And with that frightening picture in mind, I give you the music:

Alarm Will Sound – Acoustica: Alarm Will Sound Performs Aphex Twin
[Buy: CD]

Amazon.com is flooded with “String Quartet Tributes” to every artist imaginable. A search for “string tribute” brings back 174 of these CDs, most of them merely attempts to quickly capitalize on the success of whichever band they’re covering. (Can you say String Quartet Tribute to KISS?) But, of course, I wouldn’t be including this CD in the release if it fell into that category, now would I? Alarm Will Sound is a group of 20 musicians working as Artists-in-Residence at Dickinson College. With a rotating cast of arrangers, the group set out to tackle the difficult task of moving a selection of the Aphex Twin catalog into the analog world. Most of the selections come from the ambivalently-received drukqs, which seems surprising at first, given Richard James’ extensive catalog. All doubt fails in the first few seconds of the opening track. These enterprising music nerds have been quite successful in their translations. I made an iTunes playlist which staggered the original Aphex tracks with the chamber music reconstructions and the results are positively sublime. Where Richard James used squelchy little synth patches to express some hidden melody, Alarm brings a cello and suddenly the beauty of the piece is immediately apparent. It’s almost too easy, but I don’t feel that we should fault anyone for making genius accessible. Highlights: “Cock/Ver 10”, “Fingerbib”, “Mt. Saint Michel”

Jamie Lidell – Multiply
[Buy: CD MP3]

Jamie Lidell is a little-known performance artist/musician who’s previous work consisted of beatboxing, dressing in “media suits” (giant pieces of tape with videotape stuck to them) and doing big multimedia shows, all of which made him a perfect fit for our favorite proprietors of the eclectic across the pond, Warp Records. That this album comes from the same outlet as Autechre and Prefuse 73 is one of the reasons that his new album, Multiply, so easily took me off guard. (The other reason is that it is just so unbelievably, soul-shockingly good.) Mr. Lidell is, it seems, in possession of one of the most expressive voices that has ever existed, and there couldn’t be a better venue for it than the excellent soul and R&B tracks that make up this album. Lidell has managed to strike a perfect balance between the avant-garde musicianship of his Warp peers and the deep-down body rocking of classic soul. Listening at work, I have to suppress the urge to stand up, spin in a circle and clap my hands. But I’ve said too much. Every word I write only makes my description less accurate. Just play it loud. Highlights: Tracks 1-6.

One Self – Children of Possibility
[Buy: CD MP3]

Made up of producer DJ Vadim and MCs Yarah Bravo and Blu Rum 13, One Self is one of those musical amalgamations that becomes greater than the sum of its parts: a crazy, beautiful, kick-ass Frankenstein of Hip-Hop minimalism. Vadim—Russian born, London raised—has been a Ninja Tune regular for years now, but seems to have finally come into his own with this album. Previous releases brought new meaning to the concept of “chill” as an art form, with lazy, muted beats lumbering on and on. Here he is spry, moving along the time line with confidence and grace. And the space! For the most part, the album’s production is sparse and open, allowing both very talented MCs ample opportunity to croon where other rappers are yelling and spitting. The sounds here seem fresh and ancient simultaneously, with the serious and introspective tromp of “Fear the Labor” giving way to the summer city stroll groove of “Bluebird”, and 1 minute 19 seconds into “Trying to Speak” marks the beginning of one of the coolest verses in recent musical memory. Highlights: “Trying to Speak”, “Bluebird”, “Hollow Human Beings”

Sleater-Kinney – The Woods
[Buy: CD]

Most of the press surrounding Sleater-Kinney’s latest album has centered first on how divergent it is from their previous work, and then segued into how completely awesome it is. You can read all about their personal epiphany and consequent life rearrangement in pretty much any music rag. Pitchfork Media’s review even starts basically the same way I just did (we’re so meta-). But let’s move on to the awesome part. I’m a latecomer to the whole rock thing, and as such I think I tend to fall face first into hopeless adoration as soon as a record hits all those heart strings that Rock and Roll is so very good at hitting. When I listened to “The Fox”, the first track of the album, I thought to myself, “My, this is loud,” but I went with it. Then Carrie Brownstein’s voice came shining confidently through this sea of distorted guitar and I thought, “That’s interesting.” By the end of “What’s Mine is Yours” I was unabashedly in love. I got stuck on that song and listened to it constantly for a long time before I even gave the last two thirds of the album a chance, and I would have included the album in the release on its merits alone. But, thankfully, the rest of the crowd can stand on their own, if not with the same immediacy. The women of Sleater-Kinney are able to shift styles and moods with ease, bringing their punk roots in to play with their nostalgic, power rock experimentations. The back-and-forth between Corin Tucker’s sneering, confrontational vocal style and Brownstein’s siren song is particularly compelling, giving the album a real sense of dynamism and lending their songs a sort of menacing beauty. Highlights: “What’s Mine is Yours”, “Entertain”, “Rollercoaster”.

The SXSW Experience

I usually try to avoid South By Southwest (henceforth The Festival), the media/music/film festival that blows through Austin every March. Thousands of people converge on Austin, parking is a nightmare, the interstate is a river of molasses, and the lines for everything are long. But there was something special up there this year: Feist.

You see, I am dying to see Feist live. She’s only been touring in Europe, with a few scattered dates Stateside (New York and California mainly). Sometime last week, Jon sent me a link to the Urban Outfitters web site and instructs me to scroll down the list of acts to Saturday. There, in 9 point Verdana, is her name. Feist. For 25 minutes on Saturday March 19. After recovering the ability to speak, I begin to make plans. A place to stay, where to meet up, and so forth and so on.

I rolled into Austin at about 2:00 PM on Saturday, two and a half hours early for the show. (I am going to make it.) A quick phone call to Jon and the plans were set. Meet at Jen’s apartment, follow him into town, park, walk. Simple enough.

Jon was going to try and catch the Doves doing an in-store at Waterloo Records. The plan was to follow him to that general area, then split off and try and find parking closer to my destination. We arrived at the point of separation and found traffic into downtown backed up. Far. Faced with a choice between struggling with traffic and hoping to find a place to park, or parking here and walking, I chose walking. At least I would be making progress while all these saps were stuck in a traffic jam. The time was 3:15. (I am going to make it.)

Now, the walk from 11th and Lamar to 6th and I-35 is about one and a half miles. I was a man on a mission. Driven. My pace was quick and steady, my strides were long, but not sure. There was one problem: I recently started working out again and the day before I did my lower body set for the first time in months. I did not have complete control of my legs. If one were to have followed me the entire distance one would probably have thought that I was intoxicated. I found myself, at times, unable to lift my feet over small obstacles, or locking my knee before my foot had finished making the descent into a dip in the concrete. But I was determined. I carried on. (I am going to make it.)

I made great time. Even with a quick pit stop to chat with a friend I bumped into on the street I arrived at Urban Outfitters at 3:45, 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Winded and flushed I entered one of the two lines forming outside the venue and examined the situation. This being my first time at The Festival I had no idea how entry worked.

After failing to ascertain the mechanics of entry from simple observation, I took a more straightforward approach: I asked the bouncer. In my head this was a simple plan, but my uncooperative legs caused me to have to make at least three attempts to get over the ropes, almost bringing the connected pedastal down with each attempt. I’m pretty sure this solidified the idea of me as a staggering drunk in the minds of all present.

Finally, I approached the bouncer.

“Hey, how do I get in?”

“It’s RSVP only. Did you register on the web site?”

[I’m pretty sure the sound of my heart breaking was audible, but I answered anyway.]

“No. No I didn’t.”

(I did not make it.)

At approximately 3:50 PM I started walking back up 6th street in search of a plan B. I didn’t remain in my state of self-pity for long before my oh-so-helpful Fuck It philosophy kicked in and I started making phone calls. As luck would have it Jon was finished failing in his own mission to see some live music (apparently the Doves rocked, even from the parking lot) and was on his way to pick up his girlfriend to have some lunch. After a lovely meal at Thai Tara I was re-energized and ready to be crushed over and over again.

Luckily for me, The Festival was more than willing.

To make a long story short, Jon, Jen and I stood in about 5 lines for shows and didn’t get into a single one. We were sans badges or armbands, which means we were gutter trash in the eyes of the venues. We stood in the cash line. Apparently, known terrorists are let in before people in the cash line. At the end of the night we found ourselves in the Red Fez (OK) watching a local band (decent) and drinking (excellent). We made one last attempt to get into a show (Phoenix), gave up, went home and watched Blind Date until we passed out.

Even with all of the setbacks I didn’t come away with a distaste for the whole experience. With a little more planning a great time could be had at The Festival. In fact, Jon had great luck on Friday, getting into the Radio 4 show at La Zona Rosa.

Also, the new Prefuse 73 album, Surrounded by Silence, came out today, so it is practically impossible for me to be in a bad mood about practically anything.

The Arcade Fire

Friday night I had the pleasure of watching The Arcade Fire perform live at Emo’s in Austin. While I was falling in love with their album Funeral last year I made the obligatory web crawl to find out about live dates. This was during the first leg of their Funeral tour, so dates were few and in a radius of their native Montreal. I wrote an email to the contact address listed on their web site begging them to come to Austin. Someone wrote back to tell me that they were responding to all the recent attention the band was getting by extending the tour, and that they were definetely going to be coming through the southwest in early 2005. Satisfied for the time being, I settled back into absorbing and proselytizing the album and waited.

Last week, after reading an article about a Christmas EP the band put out a few years ago and watching a clip of their live show I decided to check up on their tour. Low and behold, Austin, TX on Friday January 21, 2005 at Emo’s. The mailing list had been completely silent, but my keen spider senses kicked in and saved the day. Tickets were purchased, and I began my campaign of bugging Jon every day to do the same.

So it could be said that I was excited when we (finally) made it to Emo’s. We had to wait in line for a while to pick up our tickets at will-call (the show was sold out), but before long we were inside and anxiously waiting. In the time it took to grab a few beers and locate a reasonable spot to watch the band had taken the stage to cries of jubilation from the crowd. I love attending shows like this one because you can be sure that almost every single person in attendance is there because they love the music, and not because it was just something to do in Austin on a Friday.

They opened with “Wake Up”, a real crowd pleaser, but it was pretty quiet. The dance club next door was overpowering the PA at Emo’s and would become quite a distraction as the evening progressed.

By the time they started the second song, “Neighborhood #2 (Laika)”, I was completely oblivious to any deficiencies in the environment around me. It is only in retrospect that I am able to pick out problems with the experience. During the performance I was lost, completely enthralled by the Canadian sextet before me, playing their hearts out and dragging us all into their world of love and loss and longing.

It’s hard to explain the show without getting down to its emotional core. For example, I always knew “Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)” was a mournful tale of love, death and unfulfilled expectations, but their performance of it added a sanctity that I hadn’t detected before. While the slightest brushings of violin floated over Win Butler’s guitar, Régine Chassagne gazed at the audience through a triangle made of two xylophone mallets and a drumstick. The sound of the club next door was invading and everyone on stage except for Régine had their eyes closed, concentrating. Régine looked worried, and she kept looking at Win in a concerned way (they are married), as if she knew how important this song was to him and was afraid that this place wasn’t sacred enough for it. I felt myself entering the circle with them, trying to push out the distractions and connect with what was being built, to add my own strength to theirs so that they could fully realize not just the composition, but the palpable energy that was accompanying it. When the song finally kicked off, I felt a wave of relief and satisfaction and a new appreciation for this understated song.

It’s always difficult to convey any experience in a satisfactory way, but thanks to The Miracle of the Internet you can listen to this show as if you were in the audience. Concert tape trading has fully embraced technology to speed it along, and the online communities involved in the creation and distribution of these recording are extremely active. The Traders Den allows anyone to sign up and start sharing, and one trader posted an audience recording of this show. The sound is much fuller than I remembered, and I now wish I had tried harder to get a better spot in the crowd.

So, the moral of the story is listen to The Arcade Fire. If they don’t succumb to The Curse of the Strong Debut they will go on to do great things. You can pick up their CD over at Merge Records.

A Thing of Beauty

Alex Ross has posted his New Yorker profile of Björk in its entirety. My favorite music writer writing about one of my favorite musicians. Beautiful.

A Collection of the Year in Review

Fimoculous is compiling a list of lists of the best of 2004, as chosen by any number of opinionated media snobs at any number of publications/blogs. I do believe I’ve got the vapors.

As an avid (read: rabid) music lover, I adore this time of year, when everyone who believes their opinions might matter to someone starts compiling lists of the best of albums of the year. I’m not going to use warning quotes in the post because their vast numbers would render it unreadable.

Meanwhile, back at the point of the post, top X lists provide me a window into the vast amount of music I’ve missed out on in the past year. To stumble upon a list of such lists is like manna from heaven. A mad dash is made, the collection swells, the beast that is my own desire for the new is temporarily sated.

Oh my.