The Black Keys – Live at the Crystal Ballroom DVD

The Black Keys: Live at the Crystal Ballroom, released by Nonesuch Records, captures the Akron-based blues-rock duo performing to a sold out crowd in Portland just days after the release of their fifth album, Attack and Release. Directed by Lance Bangs, the DVD documents the furiously energetic live show the band has built a reputation for and serves as a refreshing reminder that good riff-heavy three chord rock and roll is alive and well.

From the opening riff of “Same Old Thing”, guitarist/singer Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney vigorously deliver a back to basics exhibition of straight forward rock music set against blinding light beams and frantic bursts of strobe. Each song immediately pulls you in and holds your attention the whole way through as they morph, fluctuate in intensity, and return to form. Pulling double duty, Auerbach plays both rhythm and lead, often utilizing a call and response guitar style made up of chord riffs and gritty blues fills, as Carney’s spacious drumming makes them sound bigger than they are. The influence of blues-rock predecessors like Cream, Hendrix, Zeppelin, Sabbath, and ZZ Top can easily be heard in the music The Black Keys, and that is not exactly bad company to be in.

The DVD’s bonus features include the making of the “Your Touch” video, as well as a behind the scenes glimpse into the making of Attack and Release. Interestingly,Attack and Release, Produced by Danger Mouse, originally began as a collaborative project between The Black Keys, Danger Mouse, and the late Ike Turner. The existing groundwork for the defunct project eventually took on a new life and eventually became Attack and Release, which has become widely regarded as their most ambitious effort to date.

As trends in Music come and go, The Black Keys prove that heavily amplified no-frills rock and roll never falls out of fashion. If you can’t get out to see them in person, or even if you can, this DVD is well worth watching.

Wild Sweet Orange – Philadelphia – First Unitarian Church, PA – 2008-11-18

On tour supporting We Have Cause to Be Uneasy, Birmingham’s Wild Sweet Orange passed through Philly and played a show at the First Unitarian Church. It was the first truly cold evening of the season here in Philadelphia, and there was no way getting around having to wear a heavy coat to make the trek from my West Philly Apartment downtown to catch the show. Winter reared its frigid head and the shifting of the seasons was punctuated by the smell of vomit. Outside the First Unitarian Church on the sidewalk and on the steps down to the basement venue were thousands of Gingko berries. Recently shed and mid-decomposition, the berries emit a powerfully pungent odor of vomit, impossible to ignore. The conspicuous scent provided for most of the pre-show chatter inside the toasty church.

Opening for WSO was Kaiser Cartel, a New York based indie-folk boyfriend/girlfriend duo. Kaiser Cartel’s warm melodic folk is easy on the ears and could easily be at home on the soundtrack of a Wes Anderson movie. The sweet and pleasant ping of the xylophone was prominent throughout their set, lending a playful naiveté to their sound. Before they finished, they performed an “unplugged” wandering serenade throughout the audience. It was kind of cool…..and strangely uncomfortable.

Next, WSO saddled up and took the stage. At the core of Wild Sweet Orange is singer/songwriter Peter Lovinggood. Lovinggood writes confessional ballads of romanticized suburban malaise. Their musical arrangements were ambitious, thoroughly thought out, and heavily nuanced. Listeners with short attention spans may not appreciate WSO because their songs develop gradually and require patience as their music ebbs and flows toward the main idea.

WSO is a very prominent new band who seems to have firm grasp on who they are and what they want to be. As long as they continue to progress and chase the sound they have worked towards, they will be around for quite a while.

HorrorPops – Kiss Kiss Kill Kill

The members of HorrorPops, Patricia Day on lead vocals and upright bass, Kim Nekroman on lead guitar and vocals, and Henrik Niedermeier on drums and vocals, hail from Copenhagen, Denmark, but now reside in L.A., California. The band continues to bracingly blend older musical genres like rockabilly, punk, and New Wave and yet somehow makes the results sound fresh and vital, with a modern post-punk edge and melodic pop sensibilities. The trio craft intricate rhythms and complex instrumental interplay that lift the songs out of a plain ‘n’ simple rehashing of various musical styles, while allowing enough room for Patricia to clearly convey her lyrics.

The band members deliver a fine-tuned set of songs on their self-produced, cinematically-themed third album, with nary a bum track on the whole platter. The production values are high, with a crisp and clear sound and songs that zip by with crackling energy and that alternate between story-telling numbers like “Hitchcock Starlet” and “Highway 55”and more personal songs like “Boot2Boot” and “Copenhagen Refugee”.

Oftentimes concept albums or a run of songs that focus on a certain musical style can wear thin over time, but HorrorPops keeps it engaging with brief, compact songs, catchy melodies, a jittery, upbeat tempo, and instrumental variation. The extremely dynamic drums, cymbal smash, wiry and gritty guitars, and low-end bass lines play against Patricia’s sweetly clear, aching, slightly nasal, mid-range vocal tone and no-nonsense delivery.

Opener “Thelma & Louise” encapsulates the exhilaration of escape, of driving away from problems and towards freedom, with its briskly paced drums, driving-down-highway guitars, and Patricia’s rousing vocals on the chorus as she exclaims “We’re just gonna drive / …flying high / Fears left behind / …just like Thelma and Louise.”

The upbeat rockabilly tune “Missfit” bristles with Patricia’s tart, spirited vocals as she sing-talks about being an outsider and that “According to you I’m a misfit. / Who made you my judge and jury?” There’s a break mid-way in the song where the tempo suddenly changes into a ska beat and Patricia and the guys shout out defiantly “My fist / in the middle of your face.” to the melody of “Our House” by Madness. Mad brilliant.

“Boot2Boot” is a rally cry written in response to the destruction of a Copenhagen cultural center by police and it works at a speedy, Bad Religion-like pace, with a rapid-fire drum beat and strong vocals from Patricia as she sing-talks with a nasal sneer and growl, exclaiming on the chorus along with backing male shouting vocals and marching boots sound effects.

The snappy, swift-clicking beat and wiry surf guitar of “Heading for the Disco” gives the boot to silly and insipid 1980s rock as Patricia peppily blasts the empty-headed peeps heading for that darn disco, all while dissing Poison in the process, but strangely enough, the band then appropriates a 1980s synth-pop sound on the next number, title track “Kiss Kiss Kill Kill”, where Patricia’s candy apple-glossy vocals coolly emote against spacey keyboard sounds, angular guitar riffs, and background male vocals.

Story-teller mode kicks into high gear on the following song, “Hitchcock Starlet”, which open with a crack of thunder and steady rain, along with low-key guitar notes and a slower drum beat, evoking a 1940s film noir, dame-in-distress ambience as a winding guitar line takes over and Patricia sings in a lower, foreboding tone on the verses. The chorus continues the ominous feel with Patricia exclaiming melodramatically like Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance on “Helena” against a full-bodied accompaniment of guitar, bass line, drum beat, and strands of low male backing vocals.

The surf song is represented with the instrumental “Horror Beach Pt. II” as ocean waves dash and break against the shore, and then a tapping beat, cymbal hits, hand claps, and bass line move in, along with distorted, reverberating guitar and a lighter guitar line riding the crest. The tune flows with an enigmatic undercurrent of low tone male “Ahhh”ing vocals and ends with the swirl and hiss of ocean waves.

The Budgets – Improve Modern Rock/Destroy Modern Rock

Oh, punk rock, I remember you. Before it became fashion and make up and “emo.” Before it even became clichéd to lament your passing. The snottiness, the brashness, the brilliant melding of thrashy distorted guitars and unintelligible screaming. Whatever happened to you? Not now little slab of vinyl I’m busy. What’s that? Listen to you? I shan’t be disappointed? Well I suppose so. Just a moment please, I’ll be right back.

Well imagine that! My new little friend here has just informed me that perhaps all hope is not lost! Apparently there are signs of life in the form of two groups called The Budgets and Bust! that are here to save the day. On 4 songs these 2 groups have restored faith in the genre formerly known as punk rock. A split single titled Destroy Modern Rock/Improve Modern Rock has made me re-think things. While goal is accomplished these fellows have gotten rock back to its snottiest rambunctious roots.

Difficult to say at first which side is which band since one side of the record has a caricature of either Saddam Hussein or Tom Selleck and the other side says only “Please Play Other Side.” And both bands are fairly different from one another. Bust! Is a 3 piece, the more melodic of the 2, and play a looser sloppy version of punk. Singer/guitarist Kyle screams out some snide vocals ala The Descendents’ Milo but over top a No Pocky For Kitty-era Superchunk sound on “End It On A Good Note“ and “Out West” is chock full of teenage ennui and self loathing.

The Budgets are a two piece, and proud of it, who play remarkably tight for only the guitar/drum lineup. “City of Devils” and “Recycled Melody” are anthems to boredom and frustration and you can’t understand a single thing they’re saying. In true punk spirit, they won’t care either. Raw and powerful and like a less polished Damned they cut through these 2 songs with a pent up fury.

There ain’t a whole lot to go on with these two bands but they let the music do the talking. Each song gets in, gets out, and leaves you scratching your head as to what just happened. Even if it’s only temporary, thanks for visiting again punk rock.

The Slants – Slanted Eyes, Slanted Hearts

There is a lot of great electronica music, or some variation thereof, out right now – The Faint, Dan Deacon, and many others – but The Slants do not quite make the cut. More often than not, this record is choppy, overwrought, and forced. Slanted Eyes, Slanted Hearts tries to do too much and never really achieves more than a mediocre track here or there. The album does not start off on the best note with “Sakura Sakura,” a jarring combination of shouted vocals and repetitive synth elements. Each track sounds oddly similar, and the lyrics as well as the drumming could use work. The weakest tracks are “I Want Everything” and “Haruki Murakami,” the latter of which is very difficult to listen to all the way through.

There is little structure in many of the tracks, and although the synth aspect of The Slants’ music can sound pretty cool at times, the album as a whole simply does not mesh. “Kokoro (I Fall To Pieces)” is a creepy, mundane track with few redeeming qualities. There is one better-than-average song, and that is “Stranglehold” – perhaps the most cohesive and cogently written of the entire eleven tracks on the album. “Love Within My Sins” is another one of the better tracks, occasionally sounding like Joy Division when the somewhat grating vocals are not there.

There are better options out there for music of this kind, and The Slants need to do some work before they can match any of their counterparts. Known for good live shows, this indicates some promise for them aside from this weak album.

The Brother Kite – "Vacant Eyes" b/w "We Can Never Be Friends"

The true test of a songwriter or band is to have the ability to create a song that can stand on it’s own when stripped down to its barest essentials. Both Plumerai and The Brother Kite are known for dressing their songs up in effects, creating comparisons to Stereolab, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and modern day shoegaze. But on this split single, limited to 500, these 2 artists take away all excess and craft some haunting music.

The A side, “Vacant Eyes”, is given over to Plumerai, led by vocalist Elizabeth Ezell. Sounding like a subdued Karen O, her words sound as though they are slowly and painfully being pulled from her. For the majority of the song she is backed by simple acoustic guitar until her melody grows stronger, swelling to a climax in violas and cymbal crashes. It’s like taking a trip down the candlelit hallway of a haunted house. Plumerai create a tension between uncertainty and yearning and do it quite well.

If Mark Kozelek decided to do a Simon & Garfunkel cover it would come off sounding like The Brother Kite’s contribution “We Can Never Be Friends.” This is meant to be a compliment. There’s surely a sense of longing and desperation on this brief 2 guitar & vocals song with its down strummed acoustic and scant assistance of some carefully chosen accompaniment. The vocal melody starts to soar but quickly chooses to land instead, denying the feeling of wistfulness you expect. It’s a beauty of a song; simple, short, and inviting.

If a power surge were to ever strike New England Plumerai & The Brother Kite would do just fine. By stepping away from the effects and fuzz pedals both bands are more than capable of creating somber and touching music “unplugged.“

Martin Bisi – Sirens of The Apocalypse

If you’ve ever heard of Martin Bisi, it’s probably because of him producing such acts as Sonic Youth, White Zombie and The Dresdon Dolls. However, he also has his own band, and their newest release, Sirens of The Apocalypse, is a zany psychedelic pop adventure that sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t. Either way, you’ve never heard anything quite like this album.

Joining Bisi (guitar/vocals) is Billy Atwell, Shawn Setaro, Butterface, Brandon Hans, Christian Bongers, John Keith and various female vocalists (it is unclear what parts they play in this weird puzzle). Not surprisingly, the influences include Frank Zappa, Roxy Music, Brian Eno (whom Bisi has produced) and John Cage. Sirens of the Apocalypse has some of the lighthearted humor of Zappa and Eno, but not nearly as interesting music (especially for Zappa).

The disc opens with the title track, which begins with a narrative that reminds one of parts of Zappa’s 200 Motels (with different voices adding to the main speaker). This technique is used throughout the disc, and Zappa would be proud to hear one of his unique production tools being used today. The track builds up nicely, and there is an air of The Decemberists when the females come in. But, and this is true for the entire album, there is also some intangible connection to the Muppet band Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. This is immediately obvious with the second track, “Mary Maudlin.” The vocals range between octaves, leading to a silly and cringe worthily corny (on purpose I hope) sound, but it’s got charm to it (just don’t be surprised if the Muppets appear in your head as you listen). “My American Way” rocks pretty hard with its synthesizer riffs, and “Rock Musician” closes the album with a drastically different approach: electronic, industrial beats, like a warmer hip-hop version of Nine Inch Nails.

Unfortunately, except for this last track, Sirens of The Apocalypse sound largely the same throughout, and the songwriting aspect isn’t very interesting. True Bisi and Co. have a screwball appeal with their ambiance and voices, but they employ this same tactic on every song. Essentially, you can take the middle of any track and place it in the same spot on any other. They seem more concerned with the originality of their timbres than any memorable melodies.

Sirens of The Apocalypse has the mellow appeal of The Grateful Dead and the wackiness of Capt. Beefheart, but not the songwriting ability of the former or the complexity of the latter. This album is a novelty. You’ll play it for people because of how weird it sounds (and you’ll question just how serious Bisi is with this stuff), but you won’t play it for any serious listening. Obviously the band can play music and sing, so if their next release takes a more serious route and focuses less on goofiness and more on catchy material, it’ll be a success.

Q-Tip – The Renaissance

From the opening lines of Q-Tip’s newest classic, The Renaissance, it’s obvious that the Queens rapper knows just how important he is to the music and culture that is hip-hop. “And it’s up to me to bring back the hope, feeling in the music that you could quote” raps Q-Tip about the way things are now and how that old, soulful, and rich approach has been lost in the genre. Maybe it’s the fact that the group he co-founded, A Tribe Called Quest, was so impeccably compelling and thrilling, or maybe it’s the evident fact that as a proper MC, Kamal Fareed is one of the best of all time but whatever it is, The Renaissance is arguably, the best hip-hop album of the year.

The album’s music is amazingly gripping and it’s remarkable to find out that Q-Tip wrote almost everything by himself. The cover shows him holding up a beat-maker to his face while half of his body is embracing a new era as the other hustles to catch up. The implied revitalization is the resurgence of genuine music into an era where practically everything is made with some kind of machine. A song like “You” is evenly balanced between poignant lyrics and catchy, toe-tapping beats. Everything is richly colored and as one of the songs that Q-Tip didn’t get any help writing, it’s wildly successful.

He thrives in merging his east-coast genuine soul with this new altered state. The opening lines, pulled from the album’s opener, “Johnny is Dead” is a fresh representation of what Q-Tip stands for: impressive wordplay, vivid and expressive music and downright captivating beats. As soon as you get the first uttering from his mouth, that unique voice is enough to assure you that this will be a worthy listen. And even after so many years of writing and performing music he hasn’t lost his sense of humor when he matter of factly asks, “But what good is an ear if a Q-Tip isn’t in it?”

This is an album that rejoices in a strong return to form. Although his other released solo album, 1999’s Amplified is a classic in its own right, that was almost ten years ago—Fareed has returned and in a superb, fine manner. The music is substantially moving and most of it literally makes you want to get out of your seat and dance. The fittingly titled, “Manwomanboogie” is a perfect example of this with its funky bass line, syncopated hi-hat and Q-Tip’s terrific flow.

Honoring someone immense and significant, there are also two J Dilla-produced tracks on here and as expected, they are absolutely excellent. There is the piano-led, “Getting’ Up,” which features many of Dilla’s trademarks including his embodiment of the neo-soul sound and the bumping, “Move.” Each fit right in with the album’s overall jumpy and appealing music and the pleasant use of blips and voice modifications work very nicely. This homage comes full circle on the album’s closer, “Shaka,” which is a direct dedication to his brother and loved one that passed away two years ago.

The Norah Jones-collaborated, “Life is Better” only lightly touches on what a tremendous gift Q-Tip is to hip-hop with its moving and aesthetic wonder. This is an album that rightfully deserves a slot next to any of Q-Tip’s best albums. When you’re someone as intelligent and gifted as he is, his music is bound to come outfitted with great expectations and with The Renaissance, he does not disappoint.

Dr. Dog – New York – Webster Hall, NY – 2008-12-02

Dr. Dog is probably the tightest, rockingest band on the planet today, and their live show serves as undeniable proof.

The night was kicked off by a great opener, Dr. Dog’s labelmates Floating Action. It’s always nice to see an opening band that knows its role- not to steal the show, not to bore everyone, but to warm the crowd up. They managed to get an anxious and apathetic crowd to listen and pay attention to them, and actually enjoy their music. They did this one song that was clearly an homage to the Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows”, with spacey, stoned feedback and sitar-style guitars. The rest of their set was solid, filled with soaring, compact harmonies and steady, pounding rhythms.

I have to mention the house music between sets. It was this quick and dirty computerized jingle that went on for over fifteen minutes but never got old. It sounded like a videogame soundtrack, like Mario before the Princess gets kidnaped and his plumbing business was still booming. It kept cutting out and the crowd got excited that Dr. Dog was coming on, but then the music would go back on. Instead of getting disappointed, a lot of people were thrilled to hear the infectious melody again- people were singing along, clapping, some even recorded it on their cellphones. Strangely, this was one of the top highlights of the entire show- not to take away from Dr. Dog, it was just that damn good.

And then Dr. Dog came on and blew everyone away. They played with insane bravado, blaring out new and old songs with crisp precision. Like all truly great bands, they injected new life into some old songs, changing their “voice” with fervor and frantic energy. Whether it was the wounded, raspy bleating of “Die, Die, Die” of.the heavy, speedy muscle packed into “Worst Trip”, Dr. Dog showcased their versatility and musicality. The songs off their latest record, “Fate”, were incredible as well. Highlights include the rambling, bouncy “The Old Days” and the smooth, funky bassline off “The Ark”.

Almost usurping the music was their stage presence.The stage was covered in lush, tropical plants and trees, which has to be the coolest set-piece I’ve ever seen at a show. Each member was dressed in this stoner/hipster getup- an odd assortment of big sunglasses, tweed jackets, and plaid shirts that just may be what they wear in real life. The sound mix was perfect. The bass didn’t rattle or cut through the mid-range, instead, it stayed on the bottom and locked in beautifully with the kick drum. The guitars held everything together with punch and vigor, and the organ provided a wispy accompaniment, bleeding through with light, delicate precision. The drums were snappy and never overpowered the melody, something a lot of rock drummers should take note of. Refreshingly, there was no bullshit between songs- no short, painful attempts at humor, or pointless chit chatter. Dr. Dog rocketed from one tune to the next with only a few strums and snare rolls.

The albums don’t rock this hard. I came in liking Dr. Dog, and left loving them. Definitely a band that needs to be seen live to truly appreciate.

Ala Muerte – Santa Elena

My Bloody Valentine knew how to bury and obscure the heart of a poppy melody or a dazzling hook in a mountain of carefully manufactured noise and guitar squalor. Bands like Rodan or The Sonora Pine figured out the value of letting an emotive frontwoman belt out a refrain over a textured underbelly of guitars. Bianca Bibiloni, the Queens, N.Y. native lurking behind the Ala Muerte moniker, is a student of both methods, as evidenced by the measured and melancholy-laced shoegazing of Santa Elena, Ala Muerte’s full-length debut on Public Guilt. But, still, despite the attention to craft, there is something about the record that does not work as well as its predecessors and forebears, something that doesn’t quite click into place. In short, Santa Elena is a sometimes-beautiful, if occasionally imperfect, record.

The songs on Santa Elena are precious, almost to a fault. Guitars shimmer and sparkle and fade, field recordings flesh out the atmosphere and ambiance, and Bibiloni’s voice, a vehicle that seems to constantly push the diaphragm to its limits, is ever-present. Sometimes, the combination works, as on the lush album-opener “All Is Gone,” the tender “Red Flags” and “Choose Your Own Ending” or the mysterious “Loki,” which combines lo-fi recording techniques, a subdued, vaguely Latin guitar ballad and supporting vocals that whip through the background of the song like a feverish microburst.

Elsewhere, the presentation seems overcooked, even hammy. In this category, there’s “Grim,” which takes the focus off dissonant and ghostly guitars with multiple, wailing vocal tracks that have you yearning for the subtlety of a whisper, murmur or a simple coo. Or there’s “Demeter,” another beautiful guitar-driven gem that loses its direction with layered vocals that, again, push the diaphragm a little too much.

There’s plenty else to love about Santa Elena. A set of instrumentals or near-instrumentals on the 10-song, 45-minute disc are frighteningly good. The first is the moving “1892,” a too-beautiful, too-short chamber piece where Bibiloni pairs viola with an understated guitar line. (It’s two and a half minutes that really steal the spotlight from the rest of the disc. We need more like this.) Then there’s “She,” where all the elements of the song – a spare guitar line, tiny ribbons of oohs and aahs, what sounds like a synthesizer – dwell below a phantom fog of white noise, like fish swimming, trapped, below the icy surface of a winter lake. (The verdict, though, is still out on “Fireweed,” the record-closing offering that descends – or ascends, depending on your interpretation – from a ballad of noisy guitars into a full-throated rumble, complete with thrashing drums.)

The true accomplishment of the record, though, might be that it’s a solo effort. Critique as you might Bibiloni’s songs or her sentiments, it’s difficult to imagine how one person assembled Santa Elena. The record offers an impressive breadth and range of performance for one person, the kind of range one would expect more from a collection of musicians than a solo artist. There are tender knots of guitar, not to dissimilar from Rodan, one minute (“All Is Gone,” “Demeter”), spacey atmospherics the next (“Grim”). The record is diverse enough to demand repeated listenings and cohesive enough to stand up to them. It’s not a perfect document and the gems are scattered among some lesser works but it remains an engaging disc and, most definitely, a promising one.

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