Akron/Family, touring in support of the wild and strange Akron/Family II: The Cosmic Birth and Journey of Shinju TNT, will headline at Club Congress tomorrow night.
I talked to the band's singer/guitarist Seth Olinsky a couple weeks back about the new record's origins. Here's the story:
Akron/Family creates multiple stories through multiple versions of its newest album
Music bred in the parallel isolations of a Japanese volcano and an abandoned train station in Detroit deserves the name Cosmic Birth.
Like everything else about Akron/Family—whose members are spread from Portland, Ore., to New York—that new record sprawls all over the place. Akron/Family II: The Cosmic Birth and Journey of Shinju TNT, released in February on Dead Oceans, was nurtured by a sense of unhinged expression learned from a series of Japanese bands, says Akron/Family singer/guitarist Seth Olinsky.
"We performed with a lot of artists there, and there was this energetic commitment to performance, a little less self-conscious," he explains. "When we went to decide what we wanted to do to make the record, one of the inspiration points was this energy that was more extremely expressive. We wanted to push the boundaries of our own expression, and there was something that triggered that from the way the artists were working in Japan."
So, naturally, Olinsky, drummer Dana Janssen and bassist Miles Seaton holed up in a cabin built into the side of Mount Meakan, an active volcano in Akan National Park on the Japanese island of Hokkaido, to dream up a new album that broke free from any boundaries they thought they'd hit in five previous albums.
Like any hybrid, Akron/Family is difficult to categorize. Imaginative and plenty experimental, the band's music is folk at its roots, but any of number of things at its sprawling edges. It's music that pauses to deconstruct itself. Across the whole of Cosmic Birth, you get the sense of musical collage, accented by all manner of distortion and myriad incorporated sounds.
At times, the band can sound like overloaded electrical circuits; at others, the sound is calm and delicate. Throughout Cosmic Birth is the sound of pure motion. Like a mind-bender movie, the first time through, you're just trying to follow along. But once the outline is established, more passes reveal all of those little things that were done well.
"This record, I think, is the most genuinely collaborative," Olinsky says. "It was a beautiful experience for us all, before any of the music was written, dreaming up this imaginary world of these different qualities and emotions and things that we wanted the album to do, and the way we wanted it to sound and feel. And through that process, we identified some emotional and sonic components that we'd left behind."
Early in the process, the band returned to a hard drive from their early days, digging out old samples and cutting them into new pieces. Akron/Family's extensive use of samples and various sounds helps to create a "sonic environment" for the music, Olinsky says. In a sense, the album comes from a place, and all those samples and sounds re-create that place for the listener.
"If you hear the sound of frogs, when someone's listening, they automatically visualize this pond at night. It sets the imagination to see a space," he says. "If you imagine any film, whether Old West or science fiction, the viewer is taken to that place for a few hours. It was more about using those sounds to create an environment. It's an intuitive sense of feeling a space around the music."
To record, they hooked up with engineer and producer Chris Koltay ("He's able to capture sound how we hear it, so we can relax and just perform," Olinsky says), who set the band up in the abandoned Michigan Central Station.
"Detroit is this place that was once the future city of America, and now (it's) this place that's abandoned. The city is in a state of trying to figure out how to re-create itself, and it's forcing more of a community-oriented perspective on how to do that," Olinsky says. "Being in a place that's more raw and forced to re-identify itself, there's something in our artistic process that's inspired by that energy."
That notion of re-creation and an ever-shifting identity is at the core of Cosmic Birth. The rough tracks and raw mixes can become so many different things, Olinsky says, and in an artistic sense, the band values process over product.
"The record itself, just because it's the one released, doesn't mean it's the whole story, the whole expression. The artistic base of this stuff is a little bit broader than just one finished product. It almost feels like this is one take on something that could've had 30 or 40 different lives," Olinsky says.
To let the potential energy of the project flourish, the band made a number of different mixes of the entire album, leaking several onto the Internet in advance of the formal release of Cosmic Birth. Wild and noisy, the more experimental mixes are a fascinating look at the road not taken. But those improvisational and experimental mixes were more than just an exercise; the explorative and introverted part of the process also points to ways the songs can change in live performances.
"When we get on the road, we've filled the well with new ideas, and it's an explosion of this whole new palette we've created. Not only are we playing the songs as they are on the record, but we're taking it to the next step," Olinsky says. "On this tour, we're definitely incorporating a little bit more electronics. Having the ability to extend the palette just kind of opens up the space of our performance. Using these electronics allows us to explore further territory.
"We're really feeling a lot more dynamic and creative in how we're approaching the live show, and the shows have been very different night to night."
Naïm Amor's signature French-and-English mix of jazz, pop and rock shifts toward the tropical on his latest album, a 12-song set that conjures a long afternoon of breezy tranquility. Dansons is a relaxed record, with nimble guitar work, unhurried beats and flourishes of strings, piano, accordion and oboe.
Amor sings in French about half the time, with several songs in English and a couple of songs on which the vocals amount to nonverbal humming or oooohs. It's that mix of languages and styles that gives Dansons its transcendent, day-dream quality.
Amor lined up a skilled and agile band that treads lightly: Matt Mitchell on nylon-string guitar, Arthur Vint on drums and Thøger Lund on upright bass. Guests musicians include Howe Gelb on Wurlitzer, Marco Rosano on accordion, Christian Ravaglioli on oboe, Emilie Marchand on vocals and John Convertino on drums. Dansons was recorded with Jim Waters at Waterworks.
The record is strong throughout, but peaks in the middle, with a standout trio that whisks away the mind: the perky "On Se Tient," the swaying and dreamy "The Other Step" and the Brazilian-inspired "Son Grand Sourire."
A chameleon of a musician who's active in myriad projects, Amor is intriguing when he takes the reins as a songwriter. With a shade of mystery, Dansons captures the sort of contentment that comes when the day's concerns have been bottled up and set aside.
Heartbreak can make prisoners of songwriters, trapping them in a whirlpool of doubt and misery. And whatever good intentions or poetic talent that existed at a song's inception can get swept away as the hard edges of truth are worn down by self-pity.
Rarely can a songwriter tackle heartbreak with the sort of commanding embrace that marks Sharon Van Etten's second album. Epic is full of songs that turn pain into power, never shying from truths or wandering into cliché.
Part of Van Etten's strength is that she plays a folk rock informed more by 1980s and 1990s punk and DIY bands than 1960s and 1970s singer-songwriters. But aside from her bracing, honest lyrics, most remarkable is how versatile Epic is musically, without ever seeming scattered.
Van Etten floats between genres—gentle folk, Liz Phair-type rock, alt-country ballad, dream pop—and holds it all together with her commanding voice, sounding like a bruised soul still brimming with confidence.
Epic begins with "A Crime," the type of acoustic confessional song that made up Van Etten's debut, Because I Was in Love. Then comes the pulsating rocker "Peace Signs," and "Save Yourself," guided by the soft sway of a pedal-steel guitar, and it's clear that Van Etten presents Epic as a sonic journey.
The album peaks with its final song, "Love More," an organ-based slow-builder that lays bare emotion right in your face.
Tucson gets plenty of bands coming through town right before and after SXSW, and unfortunatley most of them play to half-empty rooms since the shows happen to be on Sundays and Mondays during the UA's spring break. But that's no excuse for the music fans in town not to head out and catch some brand new bands.
After Monday's Papercuts show, I headed over to Sky Bar for a couple of Bay Area bands. I missed the set from Wave Array, but Buckeye Knoll hit my sweet spot, a sort of Exile-era Stones mixed with alt-country and the sort of high-and-lonesome vocals that always get to me.
A quick look at some of the Bay Area press the band has been getting confirms exactly what I saw:
"Streblow is the real deal, blessed with an expressive voice and solid guitar skills. But, in the end, what makes the album unforgettable are the song lyrics" --San Francisco Chronicle
"If Kerouac’s On the Road had a score, People and Place would be a strong frontrunner. For any fans of folk, indie, country, or just a heartfelt album filled with nostalgia and hope, Buckeye Knoll is the right band to listen to" --Unsigned Find
"Its latest release, People and Place, contains gentle, pretty pop rock songs with a twangy edge and rootsy tendencies (think Crosby Stills and Nash)." --East Bay Express
The band has a brand new EP out on tour, and they're offering it up for free. So take a listen and a download:
I'm headed out in a bit to Solar Culture to catch Sub Pop's Papercuts, whose new record Fading Parade has been wearing out my iPod the last couple weeks. Dream pop is probably the best description, so any fans of Beach House, etc. would do well to give it a listen.
I interviewed the band's frontman Jason Quever a couple weeks ago for the Tucson Weekly:
For the new album, Papercuts moves out of the bedroom and into the studio
San Francisco's Jason Quever got his start recording dreamy, lush pop music at home.
But seeking to expand on his band Papercuts' mellow and hazy sound, Quever left his home studio behind, working instead with noted producer Thom Monahan (Pernice Brothers, Devendra Banhart) at The Hangar in Sacramento, Calif.
"I was surprised at how easy it was. It was a huge relief," Quever said. "I'd gotten used to doing everything out of necessity from starting out as a bedroom artist. Once I realized I didn't have to do everything, and I wasn't the best man for each job, I realized it was coming out better."
Fading Parade, Papercuts' fourth album—and first for Sub Pop—is still comfortably in the realm of dream pop, but Quever's bigger ambitions give it a more intricate and atmospheric sound. Quever is following FadingParade's March 1 release with a month-long United States tour, with a March 14 stop at Solar Culture.
"Thom Monahan is a great mixer, a great engineer, and he's had so much experience. At first, I was nervous; some things that he wanted to do, I wasn't planning on," Quever said. "But I was able to try out different things without feeling spread too thin. I think that brought some clarity to it and more focus on performance."
Handing over most of the technical responsibilities to Monahan freed up Quever to concentrate on the music.
"I would try to focus more on singing and playing guitar and the overall arrangement and not necessarily which mic to choose and which preamp to use and where exactly to place the mics for recording drums," Quever said. "I let Thom do a lot of things."
Quever also let go of some musical responsibilities, recording with a full band rather than playing nearly everything himself, as he'd done on past Papercuts records.
"It feels like it's evolved into something slightly different. It more revolves around playing songs with four or five people," he said. "I feel good, and I can see the results of the collaboration more than before. We're always trying different things, within the confines of what feels comfortable and natural. I feel like we've stretched out, and I hope to do more in the future."
Joining Quever in the studio were David Enos (keyboard and autoharp), Graham Hill (drums) and Frankie Koeller (bass). Also in this touring version of Papercuts is guitarist and keyboardist Steve Strohmeier, who has played in Beach House.
"A lot of the growth has been up to other people, but it's always going to be my thing. If it's more of a full collaborative band thing, I'd change the name," Quever said.
Touring with essentially the same band that recorded the album makes the live performances more faithful to the songs.
"We're able to do the record correctly," he said. "All the harmonies and the little parts will be there. I don't feel like there's any compromise this time around."
Fading Parade marks two other changes for Quever as well. First, the songs were written and played live before the band took to the studio: "I was able to take them for a test run, which is also uncommon for me." Second, the songs themselves are more direct and more personal than Quever has written in the past.
"It's a romantic record, in a way I've never done before. It's basically just thinking about things that have come and gone. It's got love songs, or distant and foggy memories of love songs," he said.
A past tour mate of Papercuts, Beach House draws perhaps the easiest comparison to Papercuts, but likeminded San Francisco Bay area bands like Vetiver are also apt comparisons.
Album opener "Do You Really Wanna Know" recalls another of the great bedroom pop artists, East River Pipe. "Wait Till I'm Dead" has the sort of jangly shoegaze of Belle and Sebastian, while "Chills" is a slightly mellowed-out take on the 1960s pop of groups like the Zombies.
"I've never used the term 'bedroom' too much, but in retrospect, it does make sense in reference to how I ended up recording everything myself," he said. "But it's a vague term, one of those things that's always changing."
Papercuts' relationship with Sub Pop enabled a lot of the growth for the band, Quever said, thanks to the resources to record with Monahan and tour support.
"I've tried to be happy no matter what the situation was, so long as I could continue making records," he said. "But they found us, and I've always been a huge fan of Sub Pop, so it was ideal. It is fun to see how a larger operation works."
My good friend Andrew Shemin - a poet, comedian and all-around Bob Dylan enthusiast during our days raging at The 505 - is a filmmaker now living in Paris. Somewhere along the way he befriended the Von Bondies and when the band's singer Jason Stollsteimer branched out with a new project, Andrew was asked to direct a video.
Now The Hounds Below are headed to Austin for SXSW, and they're taking along Andrew's video for the band's first single, Cumberland's Crumblin'. The SXSW preview hits the nail on the head in describing The Hounds Below as a cross between Arcade Fire and Roy Orbison.
Since I had a bit of a hand in putting this show together, I'd be remiss if I didn't write about the Old Bisbee Records showcase this Friday at Sky Bar. It's billed as the "Jewels of the Southwest" show and each band shines with a different sort of light. And while the lineup is plenty impressive, the Old Bisbee folks are even promising surprise guests throughout the night...
Rowdy folksters The Dusty Buskers will host the night, busking all around the club to open and in between bands. It's the sort of informal performance style that the band (originally formed as a duo of Fiddlin' Phoenix and Dusty Squirrelfisher) has nailed from the start. And aside from playing hosts to some other Old Bisbee cohorts, the Buskers will be honing things for their next show, a CD release gig on St. Patrick's Day at Plush.
Up next is The Silver Thread Trio, the heavenly folk vocal group that stole the show performing with Calexico at the Rialto Theatre after the All Souls Procession. But my personal favorite moment with the Silver Thread Trio came not at that show, but when they sang at the public memorial service for Gabe Zimmerman. They did a hauntingly beautiful cover of Iron & Wine's "Dead Man's Will," and nothing else could have fit that moment better.
Bisbee's Dylan Charles (backed by his band The Border Crossers) plays at 11. Charles is sort of a chameleon of a musician, hot-shit mandolin player on one end and a mystical singer-songwriter on the other, taking whatever he wants from folk, country, soul and rock and blending it into something all-together unique to the desert hills of Southern Arizona. Charles will be debuting his new song "The Lavender Pit," a tongue-in-cheek suggestion for re-purposing the huge open-pit copper mine in Bisbee. Starting tomorrow, the song will be available as a free download at www.dylancharles.com, a preview for Charles' in-progress second album.
Headlining the night will be the groovy Kate Becker & The Zodiacs, who play somewhere in between jazzy blues and rainstorm funk. The swirling, psychedelic rainbow cover art of last year's The Soft Revolution tells you all you need to know:
The long nightmare in Tucson that was Jan. 8 is still a shock. It's a shock to me personally as a community member, but also as someone who shared a connection with several of the weekends.
There is no end to people seeking to make a positive response or make something positive out of such senseless violence, and the benefit show this Thursday - with Jackson Browne and Alice Cooper among many, many others - is a tremendous example.
The musicians playing in support of the Fund for Civility, Respect, and Understanding have the entirety of my respect for their efforts and I know that inside that show on Thursday evening I'll find moments of healing and intense emotions, just as I felt inside McKale Center listening to President Obama speak.
Below is the story I wrote about the benefit for the Tucson Weekly:
Jackson Browne, Alice Cooper and other music all-stars join forces to promote civility and respect
Jackson Browne has lent his voice to Tucson in the past, using music to heal and inspire.
The Sanctuary Movement drew Browne to Tucson in 1985. In 1998, he performed a benefit concert for the Center for Biological Diversity.
Now Browne is returning to Tucson for another benefit, this time in support of the Fund for Civility, Respect, and Understanding, started by Ron Barber, Rep. Gabrielle Giffords' district director, who was wounded in the Jan. 8 shootings. (For more on Barber, see Page 21.)
"I think this is an opportunity for us all to take part in something that expresses our desire to live in peace and live in harmony and in a safe and productive environment," Browne said. "I want the same thing that everybody else wants, which is to live in an environment in which it's possible to discuss and to disagree without feeling that you're going to be targeted."
Joining Browne in the all-star lineup are Alice Cooper, David Crosby and Graham Nash, Sam Moore, Nils Lofgren, Keb' Mo', Jennifer Warnes, Jerry Riopelle, Dar Williams, Ozomatli and Calexico. Speakers are scheduled to include Barber; Giffords' husband, Mark Kelly; Tucson Hispanic Chamber of Commerce president Lea Marquez Peterson; and Mayor Bob Walkup.
Browne said the benefit came together quickly and spontaneously, with promoter Danny Zelisko at the reins and musicians contacting one another to help create a positive response to the shooting, which killed six and injured 13.
"It's a tragic, shocking thing that's happened, and there needs to be a response by the community and the people who live in Tucson, but by everybody else, too. People are faced with the same kinds of problems in their own communities," he said.
"Tucson is unique. It's the desert; it's so close to the border; it's got its unique biodiversity," Browne said. "What it has in common with every American town is that people want to live in peace. They want to know they can go to the supermarket and not get shot by somebody who never should have gotten a gun."
Pairing the liberal Browne with the conservative Cooper is a statement about unity even in the face of political differences.
"It touches on the political, but also on what is humane. Politicians from both sides should agree that it's possible to debate and discuss political issues without the vitriol, which is so damaging to the atmosphere and the attitudes of people," Browne said.
Browne points to the Bill Clinton era as the point at which the idea of loyal opposition began to erode. The blustery, obsessive vitriol of that era has only grown louder since the election of Barack Obama.
"People are willing to see the ship go down if it's not headed in the direction they want it to (go in). It's a form of piracy, really," he said. "I'm not even sure I would say the problem lies with the politicians. It's the punditry, the people who make a living stirring up drama."
The Fund for Civility, Respect, and Understanding will not only support the victims and families affected by the shooting; it will also promote civility and respect in public discourse, schools and the community, and work in support of mental-health treatment.
"I think it's a good idea to set these programs in motion to remind us that what's great about this country is we have the right to dissent, the right to disagree and the right to say what we think," Browne said.
Browne said that while he'd like to see common-sense improvements in the nation's gun laws, the idea of the benefit and the fund go beyond such specifics.
"There's an epidemic of violent crime in the United States, having to deal with the ease with which the mentally ill and criminals can get guns," Browne said. "That, of course, becomes a political issue. But it's really an issue of: How do we want to live, and what has become of our attitudes and our belief in our most closely held American ideals, the right to dissent and the right to talk out our differences?"
Ultimately, the concert is just a first step in a larger mission.
"I think it's a good idea to have an event to rally people's spirits. I'm looking forward to it with a great deal of hope for the possibility of creating something good," Browne said.
Youthful O.C. indie rockers Young the Giant are playing an early show at Club Congress on Wed., March 2. The all-ages show (with the stupid net) starts at 7 and is just 92 cents.
I interviewed the band's singer Sameer Gadhia last week for a story that's published today in the Tucson Weekly.
After writing and rehearsing for seven months in a shared beach house, and another nine months crammed together in a West Hollywood apartment, Young the Giant had the sound and the songs they wanted.
Saddling up with famed producer Joe Chiccarelli, the band put together a debut album straining with youthful energy, reflecting both the classic Southern California laid-back attitude and the seize-every-moment intensity of early 20-somethings.
Having played together as the Jakes in Orange County band showcases and around the dive-bar circuit since the middle of high school, the band members started going their separate ways to start college, says singer Sameer Gadhia, who headed from Newport Beach to Stanford.
"We thought it would be a hobby and maybe just something we'd do on the breaks, every few months," Gadhia says. "All of us were in garage bands, even in middle school, but we really learned together how to actually perform live. We're really close when we play onstage, because we've played together so long."
The pull to keep the band together was so strong—and the playing and songwriting were improving so much—that they took time off from college to regroup, changing the band name to Young the Giant to reflect the beginning of a new era.
The band—Gadhia, Jacob Tilley (guitar), Eric Cannata (guitar/vocals), Payam Doostzadeh (bass) and Francois Comtois (drums/vocals)—released an EP, Shake My Hand, that got some play on Southern California's KROQ. Young the Giant signed with Roadrunner Records in the fall of 2009.
Then came the beach house, which wasn't necessarily a time of focused songwriting, but certainly a time of highly focused living for the bandmates, who were all roughly a year on either side of 20 at the time.
"We were living the dream in a beach house, and that mentality is really what shaped our writing—just that idea of seizing every moment," says Gadhia in a phone interview from a tour stop in Denver.
Some of the songs that came out of those months have a sort of Best Summer Ever celebratory glee, while others are about fighting through the muck and frustration that comes when the Best Summer Ever doesn't actually turn out that way.
"A lot of it is really joyous, but at parts, it can be dark, just realizing that youth can end, and it's up to you to keep the ball rolling and keep yourself alive and enjoying life," Gadhia says.
The music is grounded in their garage-band roots, but branches out to explore some different territories—power-pop, laden with sunny California melodies; post-garage swagger like the Strokes; and even throwbacks to 1980s alternative, sometimes toward the glammier end of things like the Killers, and sometimes just celebrating the sound of big, bold guitars.
"There has been a difference in writing, and our stuff is a little more mature, but it's still in the same vein," Gadhia says. "We started as a garage band, and we always felt more comfortable when we were just jamming all together. It wasn't a question of having one writer or two writers; it's all of us. It feels really important to play all together."
From Newport Beach, the band moved into an apartment off Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood. Their gear fit into an upstairs loft, but a lack of space elsewhere forced two band members to bunk down next to the amps and other equipment.
Always younger than the other Irvine and Orange County bands they've played with—and too new to Los Angeles to fit in there—Young the Giant have found themselves on the periphery of two musical scenes, but not really a part of either. But that just turned them inward and made them more focused, practicing and writing more and more.
When it came time to record, the band came up with a wish list of producers and managed to land their top choice, Chiccarelli, who has recorded the White Stripes, the Raconteurs, My Morning Jacket and, early in his career, Frank Zappa. ("He's met pretty much every music hero of mine," Gadhia says.) On the first day of pre-production, Chiccarelli told the band they'd be tracking everything live, in the same Studio 1 at Sunset Sound that hosted famed recording sessions by The Doors and the Rolling Stones.
"He had a vision for where he wanted the album to go, and it made sense," Gadhia says. "The way we've always written has been to jam it out, and we'd have a show that night and try it out live, and if people had a good time, we'd keep it in the repertoire—and if they didn't, we'd drop it immediately."
Aside from the recording and mixing time, the band spent most of 2010 on the road. They've played with bands like Minus the Bear, The Whigs and Kings of Leon, and visit Tucson next week as part of the second leg of their first headlining tour, which included a string of four London shows.
"A lot of people are affected more by our live show, and that's what we've always wanted to have. In context of the live show, the album makes more sense," Gadhia says.
The 12-song self-titled debut album was released on Jan. 25 (digitally in October 2010). Young the Giant has already been featured as an iTunes single of the week and performed on Jimmy Kimmel Live! Gadhia estimates that the band might spend three weeks at home all year, but says it welcomes this constant touring.
"It's what makes everything worth it, playing those shows every night. It's essential for us to be playing everything we can right now to get it all out there," he says. "We feel the most alive when we're onstage. We really love playing live, and hopefully, people can see that."
How four Tucson musicians out-partied the competition and found themselves headed for the pages of 'Rolling Stone'
Walking slowly across the lobby of Caesars Palace, dejected at the tail end of a three-hour Las Vegas scavenger hunt, the Inglorious Budsters thought they'd arrived just a little too late.
Nearing the finish line for the Gauntlet—the biggest and penultimate challenge in a competition that stretched across months—the Budsters figured a couple of mistakes had cost them their chance at glory.
But as they stepped off of the elevator and opened the door to the Caesars' "Rain Man" suite, the Budsters received a roomful of applause. They'd finished first, and were one step away from being crowned America's best party crew.
"When we left the karaoke bar, we actually got a little glum for the first time in this whole five-month adventure," said Josh Skibar. "We were kind of defeated, so we braced ourselves—and then opened the door to a bunch of applause. I went from being bummed out to being completely ecstatic in that moment."
One of 3,300 teams to begin the Band of Buds competition, Tucson's Inglorious Budsters were among the 25 finalist teams who made the cut for a Las Vegas party weekend. With one day remaining, they stood with teams from New York, Boston and Miami in the championship round.
The Budsters' status as "sun-soaked outlaws" with "enough ink between them to print two copies of Holy Scripture" marked them as the contest's rowdy bunch. With wild hair and beards—and 60 tattoos between them—the Budsters combined outsized charisma with an eagerness to befriend every competitor, a formula that took shape when they joined the contest, on a lark, in June 2010.
Skibar and James Muñoz, members of heavy metal band The Bled, were on tour in Austin, Texas, when they heard about Budweiser's contest to find the best crew in the country—the official Band of Buds, who'd walk away with $100,000 and a photo spread in Rolling Stone.
The goal of the Band of Buds promotion was to "find a group of friends who shared the core essence of Budweiser, to find people who shared the same passion of sitting down and sharing a Budweiser with friends," said Bob Fishbeck, a senior program manager for Budweiser.
No teams from Tucson had signed up, so Skibar and Muñoz called friends Jericho Davidson and Garth Bryson, and adopted the name Inglorious Budsters. They did the required photo shoots—the Budsters with their favorite bartender (Donovan White of Che's Lounge), the Budsters playing their favorite sport (foosball), the Budsters re-creating a favorite album cover (Queen II).
They then started climbing the online-voting leader board.
In a week, the Budsters rose from 200th to the top four, and eventually stayed in the top slot for months. The best 12 teams in each of 25 markets were invited to compete in their local casting calls for a chance at the ultimate prize in Las Vegas.
"The Budsters were great from start to finish. As soon as we saw them in Phoenix, we knew they would be there at the end. They definitely are eccentric, but that's part of what makes them endearing," Fishbeck said. "Those guys are great friends; they know a ton about each other, and they love to have a Budweiser and have some fun."
When the Sept. 23 casting call in Phoenix arrived, there was a problem: The Bled had a show booked in Bakersfield, Calif., on the same day. With the reluctant support of their bandmates, Skibar and Muñoz called off the show, forgoing a $500 guarantee. Davidson and Bryson drove nine hours to pick them up, and the whole crew crashed in Palm Springs with a friend named Drunk Lando before continuing to Phoenix.
"When we got to the casting-call party, everyone knew who we were, all the Budweiser reps and all the other crews," said Skibar, 30. "There was so much pressure there, because we had been in first for so long, and we had to cancel a show. But the Phoenix thing was a slaughter."
The Inglorious Budsters faced off against mostly frat-guy types in Budweiser-lubricated challenges that previewed the Las Vegas competition: a red carpet walk, a round of the video game Rock Band (featuring Steve Miller's "Rock 'n Me"), and the Bud Wise game—a Newlywed Game-styled Q&A session. (Q: "Who would play Skibar in a movie?" A: "Tom Hanks in Cast Away.")
The Budsters won a trophy as Band of Buds Arizona Champions. But Las Vegas was still months away, and having already earned a berth in the finals, the Budsters were locked out of online voting.
To keep the hype building, they turned on their outlandish creativity and made some online videos, including a "training" montage and an original song, written and recorded in three hours.
"We had no real gear, no budget, just an old digital camera from 2006, and a few friends who were willing to film us goofing off for a few hours at a time," said Muñoz, 28.
In doing so, they branded themselves as not only party animals, but as full-on comedians, boosting their profile among competitors and the contest sponsors. Some videos received thousands of views.
"When we got to Vegas, finally, (the Budweiser staff) would say, 'We're your biggest fans,' because it was their job to watch what everybody was doing. Some dudes even knew the lyrics to our song," said Davidson, 31.
Hungover from the send-off party at Che's Lounge the night before, the Budsters' reception on Dec. 15 at Las Vegas' McCarran Airport was a bucket of longnecks and a limousine ride (with more Budweiser, of course) to the Mirage.
It was the rock-star treatment from the get-go.
After checking in, they hit the meet-and-greet with the 96 other people who were competing. Expecting some animosity between groups, the Budsters agreed on a "no haters" policy and set out to befriend every other crew.
"It was just a fun, silly thing. We're not going to go and talk shit, with our dicks swinging in the wind. We were there to have fun and make friends," Davidson said.
Or, in Muñoz's words: "We tried to invite everyone to take part in our tornado of awesomeness."
The idea worked.
"The coolest thing about this challenge for me—besides thousands of people telling you that you're hilarious and giving you money—was that there were these groups of people who were the total opposite of me in every way, and we all got along so well," Davidson said. "If it wasn't for this silly Budweiser competition, we never would've in a million years have had any contact, but we all had such a good time."
From gun-toting military rednecks (Ohio's Chillbillies) to Southern sorority girls (Atlanta's Klassy Krew) to sports-crazed Texans (the University of Texas alumni Hornsmen), the Budsters made new friends across the spectrum.
"They're the poster child for the competition," said Wallace Lytle, a 24-year-old Marine from Ohio. "It's the competition to find the best group of friends and partiers in the country. Those guys represent every aspect of that, and they definitely partied the hardest. They could basically entertain themselves with a ball and a stick, so long as they had some beers."
Lytle first heard of the competition when he was on a training mission in Africa, and he put the Chillbillies together when he returned home, using the Budsters as a reference for grabbing attention. A self-described 6-foot-4-inch, 245-pound ginger, Lytle earned the Budsters' respect as the unofficial MVP of the entire competition.
"Those guys were ready to come in and make friends with everybody else, and they really rocked out this competition. They took every situation and made it golden," Lytle said of the Budsters. "The dirtiest-looking guys, the most haggard-looking guys—they're usually the best guys."
Estimates vary quite a bit between the individual Budsters, but it's safe to say they each finished somewhere between 20 and 50 beers during every day of the Vegas competition, drinking constantly from breakfast on.
"It was impossible to not have a Budweiser in your hand at all times—label out," said Bryson, 28.
Davidson said the Budweiser staff told them they actually ran out of beer midway through the competition. They'd allotted four beers, per person, per hour.
Budweiser officials were nervous about disclosing a precise quantity of beer consumed. "We definitely did go through our fair share of Budweiser. But it was in a contained environment," Fishbeck said.
There was an optional breakfast every day at the competition, and the Budsters made a rule: No matter how tired or hungover they were, they would be there, right at the start, wearing bathrobes. There was also a self-imposed no-whiskey rule (eventually amended to just no whiskey for breakfast).
After the opening-night mixer, the challenges began. First, a casino night. Then more mock red-carpet treatment, with fake fans and paparazzi. The Budsters hammed it up, kissing girls on the cheek and signing autographs.
"This is entirely bigger than just a drinking contest," Skibar said. "It was a lot of drinking and a lot of shenanigans, but Vegas wasn't just a walk in the park. We had to work to win it."
On the third night came the Beer Olympics, with games like cup-stacking, a ring toss and a relay race to pour and serve beer. The Budsters won the Beer Olympics and earned an extra $600; they promptly spent half of that on a sushi dinner.
"We just threw the card down on the table and said, 'We want one of every roll,'" Skibar said.
Then came the Gauntlet, which winnowed the field from 25 to six. Essentially an advanced scavenger hunt, the challenge involved figuring out clues and decoding messages to complete an absurd list of tasks.
Accompanied by a driver, a producer, a handler, a camera man and a sound operator, the Budsters had to arm-wrestle a luchador, play catch with a dolphin, get into a VIP club, save a wedding, sing karaoke and race to the finish line.
But they read too much into one clue and found themselves running up a flight of stairs—only to find a locked back door at a 64th-floor club at Mandalay Bay. By the time they retraced their steps to the front lobby and found the right way in, the Budsters had lost valuable time. They were third in line to sing at the karaoke bar—which didn't go so well, either.
"I had to pee so bad, and while I was in the bathroom, Jericho and James picked the wrong song. James didn't know the lyrics, and I'd lost my voice from yelling," Skibar explained. "We're butchering Frank Sinatra's 'The Lady Is a Tramp,' so Jericho saved it all by picking girls out of the crowd and bringing them up to dance."
Reading between the lines to figure out what Budweiser was looking for—and being willing to let some ridiculousness define the proceedings—served the Budsters well. "As a general rule of thumb, if we're going to screw up, we're going to have to be funny about it and do it gracefully," Bryson said.
Thinking they'd lost the big challenge, the Budsters asked their handler how bad their finish was going to be. The coy answer: They weren't in last place.
"At this point, we're feeling kind of defeated, so we're strolling and just leisurely walking into the casino. Part of the advantage was that we thought we weren't going to win. The other crew got hassled by security, because they were running, so security actually stopped them," Bryson said.
In the suite, SIRIUS XM radio hosts and competition emcees Covino and Rich announced the Budsters had won the Gauntlet, and awarded them matching Band of Buds rings.
The final six teams earned a spa treatment to start the competition's final day. Each member got to pick two items—except for Skibar, who was told his long blond hair was getting the super-sleek deep condition and flatiron treatment. Davidson got a pedicure, and since he'd already shaved his back before leaving for Vegas, he asked for a Brazilian wax.
The salon's aesthetician looked frightened and turned down the request.
The grand finale—the Million Dollar Party, as Budweiser called it—featured another Bud Wise Q&A. One by one, each member of the last four crews was separated from the others and taken to a podium out front.
The Budsters quickly distinguished themselves from the other finalists.
The judges asked, "What is your Bud's best physical attribute?" The other three teams replied face, but the Budsters were spot-on in knowing that Davidson would say his balls.
"There were more than 3,000 groups of four to start with, and it was the exact moment of that question that I realized how much we stood apart from every other team in the competition," Davidson said.
Next up: "What is your Bud's worst habit?" A couple other teams answered, "nose-picking." Davidson replied: "Constantly jerking it." Right again.
Muñoz was the last one to sit down at the podium, and Budsters had knocked out three correct answers in a row, taking a lead.
"What is the worst lie your Bud has ever told to get laid?" Muñoz replied, "That I was a gay rock star." Close enough.
"What is your Bud's most embarrassing possession?" Muñoz replied, "Nintendo Power Glove." Bingo.
"One of the things that was most impressive was a lot of the questions could have any answer, and some people were pretty vague," Fishbeck said. "The Budsters were very well-versed in knowing each other. We were a little shocked with some of the answers they got right, but it proved to us that these guys were the top Band of Buds crew, and they exemplified the camaraderie we look for."
The Budsters impressed more than just the Budweiser staff. The celebrity judges (actor Jonathan Silverman, St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Kyle McClellan, and models Layla Kayleigh and Sara Hoots) and the other crews hollered along as the outcome became clear.
In-In Inglorious!
"Before they even announced the winner, the crowd was chanting our name," Skibar said. "There wasn't a frown in the entire place. Everyone wanted us to win."
About a dozen friends came from Tucson for the competition and after-party. Proper Vegas entertainment came from The Dan Band, of The Hangover and Old School fame, who inserted "Inglorious" lyrics into the songs.
The Budsters were moved that night into the penthouse suite at the Mirage.
Their recollections grow patchy from there.
"My crew flew back to Atlanta, and I changed my flight to stay around and party with the Budsters. That's how much I love them," said Felicia Ruiz, who turned 26 during the competition and was serenaded with "Happy Birthday" by the Budsters. "They were the most clever and the most entertaining. I'm totally happy they won it."
The next morning, Budweiser threw the champions right into a lengthy photo shoot with Rolling Stone. The Budsters said the art director told them it was one of his favorite shoots ever.
"We're four musicians, for our entire lives, and what gets us into Rolling Stone is drinking and making jokes," Bryson said. "But it's proven that just us—hanging out and doing what we do—can be really successful."
Fueling the Budsters is no small amount of hometown pride, a feeling shared by the crew's countless friends, who are proud of the little city's big win. The Budsters even had a welcome-home committee at the airport (which, in the interest of full disclosure, included me).
"We're so beat up, so exhausted, and we're coming down the escalator, and 20 of our favorite Tucsonans are at the bottom, cheering us, holding signs and singing our Inglorious song," Skibar said. "Everyone is proud of us. It's just a huge victory for the town in general. Tucson has made us feel like celebrities.
"I've gotten even better at high-fiving."
The Budsters are still subject to background checks before receiving their winnings. But, fittingly, "The only thing they'd find is when three of us got arrested, together, for drinking in public," Davidson said.
The big exposure is still on the way. The Budsters' photo spread in Rolling Stone is scheduled for the March 3 issue (on newsstands Feb. 18). And the copious video that Budweiser shot in Vegas will be edited into a series of webisodes posted at BandofBuds.com.
The Budsters will join the brewer's famous Clydesdales on a Fourth Avenue beer delivery tonight, Thursday, Feb. 10, from 6 to 8 p.m., said Michelle Garcia-Estrada, spokeswoman for the local Golden Eagle Distributors Inc.
The Band of Buds contest will be back next year, bigger and better, Fishbeck said, and the Inglorious Budsters will certainly be a part of it. And—no surprise—they don't mind at all.
"If I ever went back to Vegas without Budweiser's money, I'd be so fucking bored. They had limos for us. Every moment, there was something to do. And we had endless free beer," Skibar said.
The Budsters told themselves that if they won, they'd cut a whole album. Besides their theme, tunes already in the works include a rap, a duet between Muñoz and his penis (as voiced by Bryson) and a self-mocking jingle. ("Three cool guys, with really cool beards ... and Garth.")
It's all a celebration of not only the win, but the Budsters' well-earned status.
"We're actually professionals. We're sponsored now," Davidson said. "We're America's greatest party crew—but we could take on anyone in the world."
The first bit of work I did after the shooting in Tucson that left friends of mine dead and severely injured was an interview with Amos Lee, the folk-soul singer-songwriter on Blue Note Records.
And as it happened, Lee's new album was recorded here in Tucson, with Gabrielle Giffords' friend and supporter Joey Burns of Calexico producing.
I was ill-prepared for the interview, having listened to Lee's new record, Mission Bell, just once, that morning before our phone call. And I was still distracted as all hell, stuck in shock still that a crazed gunman had altered my world.
But in the album I heard exactly what I needed, the sort of healing power that only music can offer. I hadn't listened to music at all in the few days preceding the interview. But here was something fresh and new that had all sorts of positive undercurrents for me. It was largely about friendship and love and community, about self-reflection and hope.
I've listened to Mission Bell a ton since then and the record will unquestionably serve in my memory for years to come as something that represents this time, this hell that came crashing down on my community, and all the friends and all the hugs and all the togetherness that marks our response, that has spurred our healing.
Lee plays the Rialto Theatre on Sunday night. Here's the story I wrote, published today in the Tucson Weekly:
Years of touring left Amos Lee with a batch of songs that chronicled not only what he'd seen, but also what he'd missed. They are songs of self-reflection and searching, songs of departures and new horizons, songs of loss and hope, songs with undercurrents of friendship, love and community.
An uncommon talent at the intersection of folk and soul music, Lee garnered critical acclaim from the start. His 2005 self-titled debut for Blue Note Records featured Norah Jones, who took Lee on tour. From there, he shared tours with Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Merle Haggard and Elvis Costello. On two subsequent records on Blue Note, Lee continued to blend his voice, a clear and soulful croon, with cozy jazz and folk tunes.
Back in Philadelphia for a taste of downtime after those first few years rushed by, Lee found himself struggling over what to do next.
"I really needed to make some decisions, personally and artistically, about where I wanted to go next," he says.
Reaching out artistically meant picking a wildly different direction. He met Tucson's Calexico when they played a show together in Vienna, and Lee says he's long been impressed with the band's eclecticism and musicianship.
"I had these songs, and we were thinking of folks we wanted to work with as far as musicians and producers, and we're big fans of Calexico," Lee says.
So Lee reached out to Joey Burns, sending a few demo songs and asking if he'd like to produce the new album. The first sessions for Mission Bell, released Jan. 25, took place at Wavelab Studio downtown. Lee says he was impressed from the start with the subtleties and textures that defined his songs' development at Wavelab.
"The songs were all coming together before Tucson, but they all sort of found their way out there," Lee says. "You can't help but be informed by the environment you're in, by the musicianship and the engineering and the studio space itself. All the songs took on different fundamental ways than if I'd recorded somewhere else."
The songs reflect the emotions of a man facing new uncertainties, searching for direction and meaningful experiences, looking to build a better world and ultimately find both wisdom and joy in life.
"This record was all written in a period of reflection and reassessment and trying to figure out where I was and where I want to be," Lee says.
The album starts literally with a departure. The opening lines of "El Camino" are a farewell:
Well to all my friends
Who treated me so well
You know I'm headed out
To that mission bell
Gonna wash my soul, gonna get it clean
Headed down the border road called the El Camino.
Closing the record is a second, mellower version of "El Camino," this one a duet with Willie Nelson, whose cracked Texas tenor adds a weathered authenticity to Lee's lyrics, suggesting that those searching years can stretch across a lifetime, that ambition is a spark that can burn forever.
MissionBell's roots are in the first calm that Lee experienced after five hectic years of recording and touring.
"I hadn't really prepared myself for what it was going to be like when I started touring. It happened fairly fast, and it wasn't something I'd thought about much," he says. "I went on my first tour in 2004, and by early 2009, I was really unsure what was going on with me. I'd been bouncing around, living in random places, never taking a serious forward motion into establishing a home base for myself.
"I'd been holing up in different towns and cities, and once that tour stopped, I met a woman, and we got a place together in Philly, and then at some point, she decided she had to split. It left me with a lot of free time on my hands and a home base where I could make myself stay put," he says. "Once I made the decision and went out to Tucson to record, I'd had almost a full year to figure out where I was at. I was feeling pretty strong."
The songs hit both somber and uplifting tones, slotting the upbeat ("Windows Are Rolled Down") and the forlorn ("Violin") right next to each other. Aside from the backing of Calexico, other Mission Bell guests include Sam Beam of Iron and Wine, Lucinda Williams, R&B drummer James Gadson and singer-songwriters Pieta Brown and Priscilla Ahn.
Lee calls the song "Stay With Me" a "revelation" that came from a tour stop in Kent, Ohio. Through e-mail, he'd met a fan who was ill and couldn't make the show. So Lee and his band stopped by the man's house to play privately for him and his family.
"Just being there with them and seeing the commitment they had to each other, through the hardest of the hardships, it renewed my faith, even though it was sorrowful and sad. It washed away a lot of the cynicism I had. There is a real commitment we have to each other," Lee says.
The power of togetherness and love is an important message to spread for Lee—and a message that his adopted community of Tucson needs as it heals.
"I believe in the power of love," Lee sings on "Flower," which strikes a welcome note of redemption and hope:
I'm going to reach on up over that fear
I'm never alone, won't you please be near
I know that darkness before the dawn
Tomorrow's coming and yesterday's gone.
"We can get lost in very individualistic lifestyles nowadays," Lee says. "There's not as strong of a call to community as there once was. But where there is community, it's very strong, because you have to make a commitment to that; you don't just fall into it anymore. I see it in Tucson with Joey and John (Convertino), for sure. There's a strong group of musicians and artists, and there's a lot of connection there."
1. The Tallest Man on Earth, The Wild Hunt (Dead Oceans)
Swedish folk firebrand Kristian Matsson plays as if the mainstream rock music of the past 50 years never existed. His songs are organic, elemental and timeless, and whether or not he intends the effect, those songs seem to have sprouted straight from the ground. Perhaps the best description of The Wild Hunt is in "Burden of Tomorrow," as Matsson mythologizes his own origin: "Rumor has it that I wasn't born, I just walked in one frosty morn, into the vision of some vacant mind."
The National's lush darkness takes on a new elegance on High Violet, a record of distilled passion that conveys the sense of coming undone, walking an anxious line toward anything that can serve as catharsis. Singer Matt Berninger is convincing in every pang of sorrow, loneliness and self-doubt that blankets High Violet with a slow-burning intensity.
3. Dr. Dog, Shame, Shame (ANTI-)
The band improved on its idiosyncratic charms with a taut, live-sounding record of endlessly catchy songs. "Shadow People" and "Jackie Wants a Black Eye" have an off-kilter joy despite the songs' exploration of life's rougher times. It's certainly true that keeping the wrong company is a way out of loneliness.
4. Delta Spirit, History From Below (Rounder)
Matt Vasquez sings with an earthy passion that ties together the band's garage and soul elements, but it's his songwriting that distinguishes Delta Spirit's second album. "Vivian" is a love letter from the grave; "Bushwick Blues" captures the propulsive yearning of a romance that's pulling apart; and "Ballad of Vitaly" is pensive storytelling at its best, touching on war, tragedy and redemption.
5. The Besnard Lakes, The Besnard Lakes Are the Roaring Night (Jagjaguwar)
The Montreal band's third record bathes in a sense of apocalyptic doom and still manages to flash moments of beauty. Post-rock and proggy at their edges, the songs awaken slowly but leave in fits of noise, with wild guitar slashes that complement the nightmarish cannonball haze of the album cover. DOWNLOAD: The Besnard Lakes - Albatross
6. Arcade Fire, The Suburbs (Merge)
More of a conventional rock album than its predecessors, The Suburbs is nonetheless evidence that the band is still improving. It's a start-to-finish powerhouse, with songs like "Ready to Start" reaching arena-rock grandeur.
7. Cee Lo Green, The Lady Killer (Elektra/Asylum)
The brash and eccentric Green can sing with both a demented enthusiasm and a Motown sweetness, and has all of the right instincts on The Lady Killer, a funky, catchy and dance-y neo-soul triumph. What's more, Green turns in the year's best single with the infectious "Fuck You."
8. The Walkmen, Lisbon (Fat Possum)
The band's least-hurried or vigorous album is also its most cohesive and relatable. While not exactly minimalist, Lisbon manages to draw forth more power from a smaller foundation.
9. Frightened Rabbit, The Winter of Mixed Drinks (Fat Cat)
Singer Scott Hutchison plays the part of a restless journeyman, enthusiastically embracing the dark corners of life, tempered by an unrelenting confidence that matches the band's effortlessly buoyant sound.
10. The Canon Logic, FM Arcade (Lights Camera Wolfgang)
Full of bright harmonies and "oh, oh" choruses, the piano-driven Brooklyn quintet's self-released debut album is the type of rewarding new arrival that reaffirms the joy of seeking out new music year after year.
1. Joel Plaskett Emergency - Drunk Teenagers 2. The Low Anthem - Champion Angel 3. The Thermals - I Called Out Your Name 4. Ted Leo & The Pharmacists - Counting Down the Hours 5. Shout Out Louds - 1999 6. The Canon Logic - The System 7. Nothington - A Mistake 8. Bueno - The History Song 9. Mos Def - Life In Marvelous Times 10. Pretty Bird. Smash. - Waxing Up The Wreckage 11. The Tallest Man on Earth - Burden of Tomorrow 12. Old Crow Medicine Show - Wagon Wheel 13. John Stewart - July, You're A Woman 14. Emmylou Harris - Wrecking Ball 15. Dr. Dog - Shadow People 16. Fanfarlo - The Walls Are Coming Down 17. Frightened Rabbit - Swim Until You Can't See Land 18. Tracy Shedd - How Your Eyes Affect Me 19. Delta Spirit - Lover's Waltz 20. Folk Uke - Motherfucker Got Fucked Up
Unzip the folder, add it to iTunes. Then to add the playlist: Go to File --> Library --> Import Playlist. Select the .xml file that's in this folder and the playlist will be automatically added to your iTunes.
It's Joel Plaskett day here at Catfish Vegas presents...
I was introduced to Plaskett a few years ago by my brother, and just had one of those Eureka! moments last night when a conversation thrusts you back into the realm of a once-favorite musician. I wonder if this singer-songwriter from Halifax has any idea that he has such big fans out here in the Arizona desert...
First up is this gem from Old Crow Medicine Show. I haven't been able to get it out of my head at all in the past month, and it's been glorious:
As far as the next one... hey, look who's coming to town next week: The Avett Brothers! Here's a clip from when the boys rolled through town last year:
And by the way, why don't you join me in running across the street after the Avetts to check out Shearwater:
And next, to welcome the Guthrie Family to Tucson, where they'll play Centennial Hall later tonight, with me sitting in the audience, surely swept up in joy:
Garage rock done right aches for the sort of unbridled enthusiasm at the core of Hippies, the first Matador record from Austin-via-Tucson trio Harlem.
The band's bouncy, melodic garage rock is colored with flecks of soul and surf rock, but it's the fantastic songs that hold Hippies aloft. The record is an absolute powerhouse that opens with nine consecutive tracks that rate great to excellent. It's only once the band lets off the throttle ever so slightly that Hippies takes a small dip.
The band—Michael Coomers, Curtis O'Mara and Jose Boyer—plays with a loose and straightforward combination of guitar, bass and drums. The formula is hardly unique, but it's executed to near perfection.
Hippies is full of love songs and breakup songs, but it's the band's spin on the great tradition of American rock, pop and soul that gives the record its magnetism.
Between opener "Someday Soon" and "Be Your Baby," the band's lyrics swing from flippant mischief to youthful sincerity; Harlem deftly handles both: "Someday soon you'll be on fire / and you'll ask me for a glass of water / I'll say no, you can just let that shit burn / and you'll say please, please, please put me out;" and "I just wanna be your baby / I don't mean maybe."
With a hefty 16 songs in a quick 40 minutes, Hippies could've lost a couple of less-memorable tunes. Small flaws aside, it's an absolute stunner of an album, brimming with confidence and songs that draw you in again and again.
Occupying the idiosyncratic end of the pop-genius spectrum, Miles Kurosky led Beulah through four albums of catchy indie rock. Kurosky returns with a solo debut six years after Beulah's swan song, sounding more like he never took a hiatus than someone who labored endlessly chasing a sound just out of reach.
A wide variety of instruments weave in and out of Kurosky's ever-shifting songs (more than two dozen musicians are credited, most playing multiple instruments), but he orchestrates The Desert of Shallow Effects according to the same principles he followed with Beulah: pop on top, and whimsy below. Whether it's with a perfectly catchy melody or some subversive twist, Kurosky laces the songs with enticing moments, lying like snare traps in wait for a listener only half paying attention. Kurosky is a tricky lyricist, capable of excellent turns of phrase, but tough to follow the wordier he gets.
The Desert of Shallow Effects sounds intentionally unfocused, but for all the moments when the songs seem overloaded, on the brink of falling into chaos, Kurosky has an answer, in the form of yet another blossoming flash of pop perfection. The album's strongest moments are those that sound most familiar to Beulah fans. "She Was My Dresden" weaves acoustic and electric guitars into a somber and meditative tale of tragedy. With its horns and organ, album closer "West Memphis Skyline" sounds like a circus wrapping up business for the day, under the long shadows of a fading sun.
The Desert of Shallow Effects is an exciting and complex record, but it's worth remembering that for all the melodic hooks he can bring, Kurosky remains an oddball and an acquired taste. Those not drawn to Beulah in the first place could easily find themselves lost somewhere between confused and disinterested. (Majoromo Records/Shout! Factory)
The comfort zone for Beach House is indeed comfortable, an ornate and delicate soundscape in which songs stay afloat with an airy serenity. Teen Dream takes a small step away from the band's dreamier aspects, but the basic elements are the same — shimmering, melodic pop built from piano, organ, and guitar, and hazy vocals that drape across the songs like lace accents.
The Baltimore duo of Alex Scally and Victoria Legrand sought out a converted church in upstate New York to record their third album, with producer Chris Coady. The church setting lends a heightened grandeur to the album, meshing well with the chiming chords and nearly omnipresent reverb. With its pleasantly drowsy pace, Teen Dream is music for watching clouds slowly drift by, lost in the tender sway of Legrand's voice.
The sound masks some darker moments lyrically, like on "Used to Be," when Legrand sings Does each day feel like another lie? on her way to a chorus that carefully dances around an expected heartbreak: Don't forget the nights when it all felt right/Are you not the same as you used to be?
The album's strongest moments are when the band adds something extra in terms of the instrumentation. "Norway" uses a slide guitar to match the breathy longing in Legrand's vocals, while "Take Care" uses a harpsichord to brush on a glossier sheen before fading slowly away, like the falling sparkles of fireworks.
Teen Dream has a graceful tranquility, and having achieved that sort of balance, Beach House sounds careful not to disrupt the band's core essence. (Sub Pop)
Touring in support of his excellent new album, the uncompromising Ted Leo will make his way to Tucson this Sunday for a gig at Club Congress. It's been about two and a half years since Leo last played in town, but that show stands out as one of the best of 2007 and few performers can bring such a combination of flat-out energy and professionalism.
Check out my review of The Brutalist Bricks, Leo's latest effort, in the Tucson Weekly:
Whichever fountain Ted Leo draws his energy from has an endless and remarkably consistent stream, rich in the sort of intensity that passes easily from singer to audience.
The Brutalist Bricks is more of his signature brand of surging, thinking-man's punk rock, with soaring melodies to counterbalance the cranked amps and pummeling drums.
Opening track "The Mighty Sparrow" starts with a buzzing guitar and Leo shouting, "When the café doors exploded, I reacted too, reacted to you." Leo instantly has the listener in his grasp.
"Mourning in America" is among the best of Leo's politically oriented songs, turning Reagan's famous campaign slogan on its head as scalding criticism of the country's "long manipulated and the willfully dumb."
But Leo offers up more encouragement than criticism: "I'm so sick of cynics, and I want something to trust in" ("Ativan Eyes"), "A little goodwill goes a mighty long way" ("Bottled in Cork"), and, "I know I've been missing, but I feel the change we've been waiting on" (on "Bartolomeo and the Buzzing of Bees").
Except for a couple of detours—the dubby "One Polaroid a Day" and the dreamy "Tuberculoids Arrive in Hop"—Leo sticks to his strengths, with unwavering passion. This is a rush of an album, brisk, forceful and righteously energetic.
ON TOUR: March Fri 26 Pomona, CA The Glass House Sat 27 West Hollywood, CA Troubadour Sun 28 Tucson, AZ Club Congress Tue 30 Dallas, TX House of Blues Wed 31 Austin, TX The Parish Room April Fri 02 New Orleans, LA One Eyed Jacks Sat 03 Tallahassee, FL Club Downunder Sun 04 Atlanta, GA The Masquerade Mon 05 Carrboro, NC Cat's Cradle Wed 07 Philadelphia, PA First Unitarian Church Thu 08 Washington 930 Club Thu 08 Washington 9:30 Club Fri 09 New York, NY Irving Plaza Sat 10 Boston, MA Paradise Rock Club
Great shows in the dead of Tucson's dreadful summer heat are about the most welcome thing I can think of for those long, sweaty days. And some Canadian folks who've shown some love to Tucson in the past are headed this way.
The New Pornographers, with a fresh new album, will play the Rialto Theatre on July 21, with The Dodos and ImaadWasif.
So, check out the first single, then join me in pre-ordering Together, and then join me at the show (spiritually, of course, if you're at some other show on what is a lengthy tour):
Here's the U.S. dates, from Pitchfork: 06-11 Minneapolis, MN – First Avenue ^# 06-12 Milwaukee, WI – Pabst Theater ^# 06-13 Columbus, OH – Newport Music Hall ^# 06-15 Toronto, Ontario – The Sound Academy ^# 06-17 Montreal, Quebec – Le National ^# 06-18 Boston, MA – House of Blues ^# 06-19 New York, NY – Terminal 5 ^# 06-21 Philadelphia, PA – Trocadero Theatre ^# 06-22 Washington, DC – 9:30 Club ^# 06-23 Washington, DC – 9:30 Club ^# 06-25 Chapel Hill, NC – Memorial Hall at UNC ^# 06-26 Atlanta, GA – Variety Playhouse ^# 06-27 Nashville, TN – Cannery Ballroom ^# 06-28 St Louis, MO – The Pageant ^ 07-15 Vancouver, British Columbia – The Vogue Theatre ^% 07-16 Portland, OR – Crystal Ballroom ^% 07-18 Oakland, CA – Fox Theater ^% 07-19 Los Angeles, CA – Henry Fonda Theater ^% 07-20 Los Angeles, CA – Henry Fonda Theater ^% 07-21 Tucson, AZ – Rialto Theatre ^% 07-23 Austin, TX – Stubb's BBQ ^% 07-24 Dallas, TX – The Showroom at Palladium ^% 07-25 Tulsa, OK – Cain's Ballroom ^% 07-26 Lawrence, KS – Liberty Hall ^% 07-28 Denver, CO – Ogden Theatre ^% 07-30 Boise, ID – Egyptian Theatre ^% 08-04 Madison, WI – Orpheum Theatre ^
! with Here We Go Magic * with the Mountain Goats ^ with the Dodos # with the Dutchess & The Duke % with ImaadWasif
