David Schmader’s live screening of Showgirls at Triple Door this past Thursday was incredible and incredibly genius. I don’t know if I have ever had more fun watching a movie. There was duck and pilsner. Schamder was in shamanic oratory form, pausing the movie to interject commentary and pontificate on how beyond bad the movie is.

Pinpointing the scenes and breaking them down inside a collective societal context, Schmader said this is why it’s bad, and this is how bad it is. I choked on my duck twice laughing. Schmader turned the bad movie into good. In essence, David Schmader gives all bad movies hope.

I had never seen Showgirls before. The music in a couple scenes is from Prince’s The Gold Experience. Not Prince, but the Artist Formerly Known As. Anyway, it got me thinking about early Prince. The Dirty Mind Prince and Controversy.

Controversy was originally released in 1981 but Warner Bros. re-released it in ’83. I had an older brother who bought the cassette. My mother confiscated it. With songs like “Sexuality”, “Do Me, Baby”, “Private Joy”, and “Jack U Off”, I now understand why.

The best song is the title track, “Controversy.” It is skuzzy dance funk and hits a dance floor hard. Mom’s don’t understand. This is necessary education for a musical child, sans the skuzzy sex of course. In the song, Prince sings:

People call me rude, I wish we were all nude I wish there was no black and white, I wish there were no rules

I guess my mother was right. Nude with no rules would not be ok for a child. Then the songs, “Do Me, Baby” and “Jack U Off”, those are definitely for adults. Maybe Prince could release a G rated version for children who want to learn certain types of dance funk.

Maybe “Have Some Ice-Cream, Baby”, or “Jack, U R a Nice Guy”? And instead of Controversy, call it Mr. Prince & Friends Eat Snow-Cones. I don’t know, G rated early Prince is tough.

And even earlier Prince:

Just another friendly reminder that tonight is the second installment of Club Cabana at the Solo Bar (200 Roy Street, lower Queen Anne). I will be turning the Solo Bar into a 1970’s Discothèque, spinning rare classic italo and disco gems all night long. I guarentee a great night of drinking, dancing, and great music.

Here is a recent Todd Terje edit of Herbie Hancock’s 1981 jazzy dance single “Magic Number” which originally was also part of the Magic Windows LP that came out that same year. I can’t recall if this edit has had an official release or not, however one thing can always be certain, if Terje is doing the editing, then you know it has to be good. On this edit, he turns Hancock’s jazzy dance track and turns it into a disco stomper without losing the jazz. A very nice blend.

Herbie Hancock - Magic Number (Todd Terje Edit)

I’d been waiting to see Deerhunter since Cryptograms came out in January; appreciating the murky, dreamlike progression of the record, the unrelenting energy from start to finish, is easy enough. But you want to be there. Beaten down by the weight of those heavy bass hits, and lifted back up by Bradford Cox’s delicate wailing. I figured I’d be off the “intrigued” fence and into the “definitely into” corral once I saw them live.

And I wasn’t disappointed. I’m now happily grazing with the other supporters (yeah, that’s sort of an awful analogy, but whatever).

While too many predictable cadences can get tired, for some reason Deerhunter totally rules those tried and true suspended major chords, mastering the sort of driving expressiveness typical of really epic movie soundtracks but without John Williams-y kitsch or the anticipated climaxes. It’s haunting without being too dark to navigate. There’s delay and whispery reverb but not as a crutch, and it’s possible that for once the muddy sound at Neumo’s, at least prior to the deafening mid-set feedback, actually might have contributed to the overall effect. Either way, I am totally sold on this band.

Grizzly Bear, per usual, played impeccably. I’d seen them twice before (once inside, once out) and it’s always mind-boggling how adaptable their sound is to any environment, whether filling a field of festival-goers or a packed club. Indoor the individual instruments and harmonies were more easily distinguishable, and it’s more obvious how resourceful each member of the band really is, juggling glockenspiels, flutes, and recorders with their usual instruments and two, three, or four-part vocal harmonies. But as talented as they are, Grizzly Bear’s dreamy, dizzying set was nothing out of the ordinary for the band, nothing to pull me out of the Deerhunter-induced exhaustion, (although they did a cover of Carol King’s “He Hit Me” and it was pretty much amazing).

I don’t know who said it, but Jan Hammer is the bomb. Yeah that’s right, The Bomb!

Well before he donned the white suit of Miami Vice instrumentalist, which made him more famous than I think he wanted to be, Jan was a talented jazz synthesist (is that what you call someone who plays the synthesizer as their main instrument?). In 1977 he released his breakthrough album, Melodies.

Now I’m going to be honest with you here and tell you that I like a lot of music, but I really don’t like jazz. I like some, but I’d say for the most part I could do without it. Period.

This album definately falls into the “pop/rock jazz” camp. I’m not convinced of the album as a whole. Some tracks are “funky” some are “rock” with little blues licks thrown in. Although there are some interesting tracks, like What It Is, which has the blues line taken up by an electrified violin, with nice soulful keyboard chord progressions behind it, layered over a funked out drum beat. Reverbed vocals by Tony Smith make the track sound more like a psych/rock jam. But for the most part the album dilly/dallies with tracks in an endless circle of noodling on songs that would be better if they were cut down to their basics.

Then there is the track, Don’t You Know. Last summer I was rifeling through some stuff at Jive Time and this track was playing. I was blown away. What is this? Jan Hammer? Wow.

It’s like chillout music, before there was chillout music. It’s perfect, they didn’t take it and go off on any progeressions, they just kept it real simple. It is just right. I put it on hold, and they were nice enought to keep it all summer for me. So now I’m passing it on to you.

I’m also passing along a recent cover of the song by a group called Beauty Room. It’s from a 10” series called the Vanity Project, where bands get to cover one of their favorite tracks, then have it remixed. Hefner does the remixing and it’s a nice little minimalist techno take. The vocals still float, though slightly distorted, but the song is cut apart and re-assembled into a new structure altogether.

You can check them out at my blog, T.M.L.

Ben “Snakepit” White has been keeping a cartoon journal of his life for years now. It’s a “reality” comic in every sense - every day he does three crudely drawn frames of things that happened to him and chooses a song as it’s representative soundtrack. He does the same things most days: goes to work, gets drunk, gets stoned, practices with bands, kisses girls, eats burritos. His life is slightly more interesting than a normal person in that he is in bands that go on tour and put out records (he’s the bassist of J Church, Party Garbage and Bloodbath and Beyond, as well as being the original bass player for the Sword). There might be pages and pages of strips that read like this: “Went to work. Hung out with Greg. Got really stoned.” “Dicked around at work. Ate some tacos. Went to Sword Practice.”

There’s no story to be followed other than what some band dude who lives in Austin, TX does day to day, which might seem boring, but actually turns out to be engrossing. Everyone has a friend like Ben, or is like Ben themselves, so it’s pretty effortless to relate to his comic. There’s no pretension to his strips - he’s just a man with all his glorious imperfections trying to have a good time. There’s something refreshing about a guy who’s willing to put every part of his life onto the page, whether the stories are mundane or hilarious. His new collection My Life in a Jugular Vein from Microcosm Publishing spans the last three years of Snakepit’s life. It’s amazing to think of all the things you’ve done in the last three years, and how if they would have been compiled daily into a volume like White has done it might actually be a good story, banal minutia and all. In perfect “get to know me” form, the book comes with a mix CD compiled by Snakepit to be played “loud and drunk.” Check out Microcosm’s website, they’re putting out a lot of cool stuff lately.

Obviously George Jones is a Line Out fan—I see he’s playing the Paramount on Sunday, October 7, which means he must’ve read my Line Out post from back in January that chastised him for not booking any shows in the Northwest this year.

It’s at 7:30 pm and rather expensive ($44–$55—not including exorbitant fees—through ticketmaster.com), but it’ll be completely worth it. It’s George Jones! C’mon! He’s the best.

Drum fills in certain songs make the song. When the beat is tripped up in a certain way, it sticks in your head. The power and punctuation of the drum fill is a storied and important facet in the world of music.

Technically, the type of fill I’m talking about here is similar to the “double-stroke roll.” It’s played with hits alternating between the left and right hands.

When a drummer runs his sticks down the toms, volcanoes are unleashed. It is a primal, tribal connection to the listener and crowd. Think back to the time of cavemen. They communicated with drum skins, similar to today’s tom drums. Evolve out from that and drum fills are used to announce war. Marches are accompanied. Battles are directed.

When Neil Peart slays through his endless line of drums on “Spirit of Radio”, he does more than emit testosterone, mathematics, and agility - he calls the audience to war, and there is a victory feast of rhythmical deciphering.

Hell yeah.

What are your favorite drum fills? What drum fills or rolls make you and the song scream?

John Lennon’s “Instant Karma” has one such snare fill. It’s not so much of the testosterone variety as it is catchy. It’s a snare shuffle and hesitation. Lennon is above it, screaming, “Why in the world are we here / Surely not to live in pain and fear.” Can you hear it? Then Lennon goes, “Yeah we all shine on / Like the moon and the stars and sun.” He’s straightforward on the meter of the piano, but that snare fill turns it upside down and brings it back around. It sticks in my head forever.

Trans Am’s “Tesco v. Sainsburys”, Track 9 off of Sex Change, has a drum fill for the ages as well. Actually, the song is basically one sustained fill. Gyroscopes are on fire. Drummer, Sebastian Thompson, weaves an anvil. The tom hits are doubled by the bass and keyboards flair off. The pattern is locked and crushes. Inside the piston is a scene – a cheetah moves on a kill doing 60 mph. The rudder tail cat thinks meat and leaps.

If there was war, it would be won. Sebastian makes us safe.

OMG! Setlist this week is so bomb-diddly-awesome that it breaks my heart to only be able to share the experience of listening to it. Why is it so freaking awesome? Because we have a guest, the world’s most perfect human being: Eli Anderson!

Eli is the assistant booker at Crocodile Cafe, and on this week’s Setlist he picks the bands and tells you what you have to do to get a show at the Croc (synopsis: don’t be a jerk). Tune in to listen to me and Megan swoon and let someone else do some of the talking for once.

Some of the bands Eli picked that you will enjoy listening to:
The Quiet Ones
The Moondoggies
Tall Birds
Fleet Foxes
Siberian
Throw Me the Statue

and much, much more (we mean it!).
Go here to listen!

I’ll be trying to split my time between the following:

SING SING W/JUAN MACLEAN DJ SET, DJ MEL, FOURCOLORZACK, PRETTY TITTY

(War Room) Poor Juan Maclean. In the long shadow cast by charismatic DFA honcho James Murphy, the former Six Finger Satellite technician born John Maclean toils and dubs and discos in relative obscurity. But if he lacks Murphy’s profile, it’s certainly not for lack of talent. The Juan Maclean’s productions boast all the bass-and-drums beef typical of DFA joints, but they also delve deeper into classic Detroit electro and early acid house. His DJ sets dig deep too, unearthing the myriad influences so seamlessly synthesized on his slept-on debut album, Less Than Human. ERIC GRANDY

CLIPSE

(Neumo’s) Seven months is a long time in the quick-turning dog years of hiphop. In seven months, Clipse could’ve drowned in an avalanche of white powder and plastic dime bags, but instead they spent that time touring hard and working on a new mixtape, We Got it 4 Cheap Vol. 3. It was back in March that their show at Chop Suey proved that the Virginia Beach rap duo more than lives up to their humungous hype. Flexing hard in front of an audience of Seattle hiphop hardcores and all-over-printed hipsters, brothers Pusha T and Malice rocked tracks from their 2006 album Hell Hath No Fury at seismically banging levels. That was seven months ago—they should be even more off the Richter this time around. JONATHAN ZWICKEL

Dirty Projectors, YACHT

Dirty Projectors’ new album, Rise Above, begins with a fun premise: cover Black Flag’s Damaged (which main Projector Dave Longstreth hadn’t listened to since middle school) from memory. The result is acoustic and choral, a beautifully faded impression of a punk-rock classic. The Dirty Projectors’ set will be a pastel reverie; YACHT’s will be a hypercolor explosion: Wizard-spaz Jona Bechtolt will dance, sing, give some motivational speeches, and probably hug somebody. (Vera Project, Seattle Center, 956-8372. 7:30 pm, $8, all ages.) ERIC GRANDY

THROW ME THE STATUE, THE CATCH, WALL PAPER, BLACK BEAR

(Comet) Throw Me the Statue and Black Bear both hail from the hive of creativity that is Baskerville Hill. The local record label/house/collective specializes in sweetly lo-fi bedroom pop, ranging from the Microphones-inspired four-track wanderings of Black Bear to the perfect, deceptively simple summer cruising rock of Throw Me the Statue. Black Bear’s The Cinnamon Phase is a serialized journey around and away from a fantastic Seattle haunted by lost loves and fond, faded memories. Throw Me the Statue’s Moonbeams is a diverse yet cohesive collection of unpolished pop gems. If Baskerville Hill were Seattle’s Elephant Six, and there’s every indication they could be, then Throw Me the Statue is their Of Montreal. ERIC GRANDY

Confidential to Kevin: I might be a little late getting up for that bike ride tomorrow.

Dyme Def’s latest video features all the rap-tastic shit that that other NW hiphop crew’s doesn’t: switch flipping, bootie smacking, gin dranking, and a Beastie Boys sample.

For contrast, here’s Blue Scholars’ “Back Home.”

Two ends of the Seattle hiphop spectrum. I like ‘em both.

Hat tip to Raindrop Hustla.

Hello! Just wanted to give you a heads up that the new [BAND REDACTED] record, [ALBUM NAME REDACTED] went out in the mail to you last Friday, should be there by now and is slated for release next Tuesday, Sept 11 (the 7th anniv. of nine eleven). The new songs slay in the same ol, fantastic, driving boogie machine [BAND REDACTED] way. Please let me know if a review for [ALBUM NAME REDACTED] will be up soon!

Oh my Christ. Do people seriously not remember when 9/11 happened? HONESTLY??

[Normally I would not redact the name of the band and record, but this record’s probably actually pretty good and it’s not their fault their publicist is an idiot.]

This week I’ve got another German for you. This time though we’re starting out in the 20th century.

Carl Orff is probably better known for his dance and choral suite, Carmina Burana, but today’s piece comes from a series of sketches he wrote before WWII for children. They were meant to introduce young children to rhythm and poetry, through very simple, and frankly minimal sounds. Collectively they are called Schulwerk, or School Work.

Some are arrangements for recorders and wooden blocks, some are for vocals and snare drums(!), but the most famous of his Schulwerk is his the first movement of his Vier Stucke fur Xylophon. The moment you hear it, you will instantly recognize it. These pieces for xylophone were used in the film Badlands. For these pieces Orff had special little xylophone’s made for children, and each child learned a specific part, so that when played together they made a unified and powerful whole. I actually think these are too hard for young children to learn, and especially after you hear the intracasies when professionals play them, as below.

To that mix I give you the minimalist German techno group, To Rococo Rot. They are powerfully steeped in contemporary classical European music, and I think it really shows in their piece here, Cars.

Carl Orff - Schulwerk
To Rococo Rot - Cars

Last weeks installment of Old World Vs. New World is here.

Photo from heyrocker’s Flickr

Last night Spoon played an epic-length set to a sold-out Showbox. I’ve been a bit of a Spoon apologist in the past, defending the verve and wit of their albums over some underwhelming local festival performances at last year’s Bumbershoot or this year’s Capitol Hill Block Party.

The performance was a kick-off of sorts for the band, beginning a proper club tour after a summer of similar outdoor festivals and teeming crowds. Overall the band was in fine form, obviously comfortable and in command on stage. Part of this ease could be credited to the fact that half the band now resides in the Northwest, with singer Britt Daniel living in Portland and bass player Rob Pope living here in Seattle.

Starting the set off with “Small Stakes,” the band was soon joined by the horn section of openers Black Joe Louis, for “I Got Yr Cherry Bomb.” A guitar solo during “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case,” snarled and thrashed out of the delicate boundaries of the song before lapsing into the longing of “Someone Something.”

Throughout the show, Jim Eno’s drumming was crisp, tasteful, and nuanced. Eno really knows how to get the most out of each hit and his control was evident on songs like “The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine,” where the tempo subtly flexed at the seams of the song; speeding up slightly and then hanging back on the beat, in synch with the song’s musical dynamics. An extended encore pulled upon songs from Girls Can Tell, ending the night with an extra R&B swagger to Spoon’s sharp rock and post-punk edges.

The evening’s openers, Black Joe Louis were flat out awful. Obviously capable musicians all, their flat take on the blues was a trial to endure. There’s only so much that can be done in the confines of the 12-bar blues and often the best relies on the old adage that “less is more.” With a full horn section and keys, Black Joe Louis were suffering from bloat with no real stand-out soloist to elevate the affair beyond the stale strictures of the pentatonic scale.

There is a new sound out there, in case you haven’t noticed. Besides over-achieving in the nouveau disco sound, the Scandinavians are kicking some serious ass on the dancefloor with their chilly version of Nouveau Italo.

With Cloetta Paris about to take flight, Johan Agebjorn and his protege Sally Shapiro the scene is really begining to thrill.

Topping the list for me at the moment is Skatebård. Everything this guy produces is so sleek, yet muscular; tight and loose. The bass is beautiful, creating lines that stay static and similar, yet never bore. Rhythm is held together with big bass beats, but stacatto pulses on high-hats and wood block flourishes with claps lend it this wonderful dark italo tone.

Right now Skatebård owns this sound. With Johan, Sally and Cloetta all going for the lighter side, Skatebård is trying to pull deeper images from techno into his palette. That’s probably the reason Kompakt has chosen to release some his singles off his new album Midnight Magic.

You can check him out for yourself at T.M.L.

P.S. on a design note, I’m loving his airbrushed images that harken back to the heydays of the early eighties. Just check out the “A” and “B” symbols he uses. Brilliantly sexy!

Anybody a Machine Head fan? Because apparently Disney hates you.

From a press release from the band’s publicist:

Disney Forces Machine Head Cancellation In a stunning last-minute move, Walt Disney Properties have pressured promoter Live Nation into canceling Machine Head’s performance tomorrow night at the House of Blues venue in Anaheim (on their Disneyland property). Citing violent imagery, undesirable fans and inflammatory lyrics as the reason, the diversity-impaired corporation began pressuring the promoter on Saturday to cancel all upcoming heavy metal concerts, placing Machine Head under an internal “review process” that took 5 days before bothering to convey their alarming decision to the band late yesterday - less than 48 hours before their Black Tyranny Tour was to kick off at House of Blues Anaheim on Friday night.

Whether or not you’re into Machine Head, this sort of fatwa is a problem because House of Blues is a major national chain, with 20-some venues in cities across teh U.S. So they ban a band in one, they ban that band in all of them.

Machine Head is not playing Seattle on its current tour.

Athens, GA Inside / Out is a 1986 documentary about the college town’s music scene hitting and happening. Bands like R.E.M. and the B-52’s were starting to get big and noticed nationally. They brought a spotlight to Athens and other bands fed on it. Bands like Pylon, Love Tractor, Flat Duo Jets, Time Toy, the Squalls, Dreams So Real, and Bar-B-Q Killers.

There was a convergence, of bands, place, sound, energy, and consumption. The bands wanted it, the people listening wanted it, and the town got wrapped up in it. Athens has a peculiarity to it, a beautiful, strange easy way, and that added to the spout. It was a renaissance. There was ivy, humidity, red clay, and people wanted to party. People wanted to take part.

Why does a music scene hit and happen? Is it simply synchronicity? Things must line up – bands in a certain place, and people who want to hear them and take part.

Is that what is happening in Portland now, minus the ivy and clay?

The film’s producer, Bill Cody was sitting on a beach north of Seattle when the idea to do Athens Inside/Out came to him. He had just finished working on Uncommon Valor, Red Dawn, and Rambo II. Red Dawn and Rambo II into a documentary about a music scene in a college town? :

I had this idea to do a version of the Erroll Morris film Vernon, FL with music. I had read about Athens in various publications at the time and decided that this was the only town in America that might fit the bill. I then contacted my good friend Tony Gayton regarding whether he might be up for such a project and he said yes - or at least that he’d consider it.

R.E.M. happened to be playing in Vancouver a couple of weeks later and I went to the show. I knew nothing about rock shows at the time and after it was over I really didn’t know how to approach them. But, I did notice that no one asked whether you had credentials if you were moving equipment (this was back when they used local crews at most places) so I got on stage and started moving gear. When Peter Buck exited the dressing room I turned to him and pulled out my resume. He told me to call R.E.M. in Athens and we went from there.

Trailer:

_{Photos by Morgan Keuler}

Stevie Wonder’s concert last Friday at the Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery wasn’t just great, it was Greatness. He embodies talent, dignitiy, love in such a way that assigning an adjective to describe his stature doesn’t cut it; his Greatness is a tangible thing, not a condition. From the standing ovation that greeted him before he said a word to the Boomers dancing in the aisles in defiance of security to the raucous applause that lingered way after his departure from the stage an hour and a half later, the crowd keenly felt that Greatness. And Stevie emanated it with humility and mastery, not to mention a perfect voice and a kickass band.

We arrived late at the winery and were forced to the very back row of the lawn, up against the wooden fence barricading the place in. Holding 4,000-some people, it’s a good size, though moving to the front of the lawn was impossible as early-arrivers set up massive camps of deck chairs and blankets and travel tables and picnic baskets. Which I would do too, were I an early-arriver, and I spent $100 on a ticket, and this was the only show of the year that I attended.

Stevie came out and, standing center stage with his daughter Aisha Morris, gave a long and heartfelt introduction to the concert, dubbed “A Midsummer Night’s Wonder.” He explained that following the death of his mother he went through a period of detachment and depression. After a while, her voice came to him and said, “You better get your ass back to work,” and he realized that he needed to do an outdoor summer tour to give back to his fans. He intimated that there was financial risk involved on his part, which is hard to imagine given the $60 general admission ticket price and $100 VIP.

And then he sat down at the keyboard and made beautiful music.

From the first note out of his mouth, it was clear that Stevie’s voice has only grown richer with age. No scuffs, cracks, or weakness; his voice is still the most classically tuned yet groovily accented in all of soul music. But I didn’t recognize the first song, which was weird.

What followed was a tryptich from Innervisions, my second-fave Stevie album (first place goes to Fulfillingness’ First Finale), starting with “Too High,” segueing into “Vision,” and finishing with a slamming version of “Living for the City” (damn, I just goosebumped while typing that). Stevie’s band consisted of THREE percussionists, two Latin-style and one kit durmmer, as well as a guitarist, bassist, second keyboardist, and a three-piece backing vocal section. They were, not surprisingly, total crack—whip-crackingly sharp, totally in-time for every song’s changes.

He blasted into “Master Blaster” and then blew into “Higher Ground,” iconic songs both outrageously funky and pointedly political. “Golden Lady,” one of his many fully-flowering ballads, was gorgeous, an anthem to love. Stevie led a killer group singalong to “Ribbon in the Sky,” a song I wasn’t familiar with, that had the men in the crowd doing one vocal part and the women doing the other. Stevie held the audience easily, joking about the men coming in too fast, that if they performed well they might get “a little somethin’-somethin’” later on that night.

“Overjoyed” is another one of those perfect love ballads, another chance for Stevie’s voice to linger long on notes, draw the most irresistable inflection out of his lyrics. An extended percussion solo started “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing,” perfectly executed and jazzy until the full-blown soul of the song’s crescendo.

I made my way down to the VIP seats as “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” started, and the crowd around me went berzerk. Yuppies, parents, grandparents, IT guys, fannypackers, and a few 30-somethings were immediately up and dancing in the cordoned-off walkways, overwhelming event staff. Flashlights flared and voices were raised, but the crowd, partially wine-drunk and totally high on Wonder, were oblivious, lost in one of the grooviest songs of all time (I’m goosebumping again). “I said a lot of foolish things, that I really didn’t mean…” Better than good—Greatness.

As a coda, Stevie took the song into totally unexpected territory: “I think that song could work as a country song, don’t you?” The crowd wasn’t sure until the band fell into an oldtime Nashville swing session and Stevie, warbling like a good ol’ boy, sang “Sighned, sealed, deliverred, Ahm yers…” They played it out, country-style, which got a huge laugh from the audience and proved two things: 1. Stevie’s songs are so potent, so fully-formed and of themselves, that they can me molded into any form, and 2. Stevie can sing like a redneck.

He covered Chuck Berry’s “Memphis,” leaving out, according to the Boomer standing next to me, the best lyrics, “pure poetry,” according to this guy. Dude also told me that he last saw Stevie some 30 years ago when he opened for the Rolling Stones on the Cocksucker Blues tour. Now that’s legacy.

“My Cherie Amor” had everyone singing the “la la ls”s, a 4,000-piece backing band in perfect unison. “Sir Duke” is simply another one of the best soul/R&B/funk/pop/undeniably brilliant songs ever recorded, played, or performed, and might be my favorite Stevie tune of all:

Music is a world within itself

With a language we all understand

With an equal opportunity

For all to sing, dance, and clap their hands

But just because a record has a groove

Don’t make it in the groove

You can tell right away at letter A

When the people start to move

You can feel it all over!

(More goosebumps. Damn!)

“Isn’t She Lovely” must’ve been gold to those aging Yups on blankets down in front with empty bottles of chardonnay and aging Yup spouses by their side, as was “Sunshine of My Life.” It’s hard to find better love songs in all of pop music, ones easier to remember and sing along to. “Superstition,” which I figured would be the set closer, was raucous, though in the back the keyboard intro—one of the rockinest in R&B—could’ve been a little louder. (It must be said, though, that the sound quality at the winery was superb, even out in the cheap seats.)

Before the finale, Stevie went into another monolog, this one briefer than his introduction, talking about our capacity to love and overcome the haters: “They can just die, I tell them. They’re not doing anyone any good.” He had led a chant of “Stop the war! Stop the hate!” earlier in the set, and though the banter sounded canned, he countered it with some hiphop inflected “wha-wha!”s and other slangly exclamations. And even Stevie’s canned banter cuts to the core. Dude should run for president.

“I Just Called to Say I Love You” closed out the set, another mega-hit that everyone and their mother and their nephew knows by heart, another pillar that holds up the pantheon of pop music. Like almost every song he played that night, it’s a song you’ve heard a zillion times in your youth, began to appreciate in your early adulthood, and finally ingested it as part of your thoughts, the soundtrack to your life, as you got older. Stevie’s songs are nourishment in the junk-food world of pop music, the songs that keep us fit and ready to carry on. Seeing him in concert was a feast.

If you’re looking to score a free pair of tickets to Thursday’s all-ages Clipse show, send an email to info@neumos.com. First person wins, so this contest is rigged towards the constant page-refreshers. Clipse put on a damn fine show, and I’d definitely be there to show some love for my fellow Virginians (757 represent!) if I was in town.

The beer-soaked backstage interviews with Stranger reporters Dan Brockman and Susan Flowers…

(Deerhunter play tonight at Neumo’s with Grizzly Bear & Wesafari, 8pm, $15, all-ages.) GO SEE THIS SHOW

Grizzly Bear - “Central and Remote”:

Somehow, Grizzly Bear and Deerhunter’s show tonight at Neumo’s got no mention at all in this week’s Stranger. Blame it on Bumbershoot fatigue. Blame it on the trains. But don’t miss this show. Grizzly Bear were an unexpected highlight at Sasquatch, but I feel like a lot of their nuance drifted away in the open air of the Gorge. To see them contained, their psych-folk and R&B reverberations bouncing off the Neumo’s walls, should be a distinct but equally rewarding experience.

And then there’s Deerhunter. I kind of got off on the wrong foot with this band, making an ill-informed and snide remark about singer Bradford Cox’s arresting appearance on this here blog (I was unaware of his serious medical condition). But something about their shit-blogging, juvenile erotica, and angry anti-critic letter campaigns makes me think that my gaffe was small potatoes to these dedicated noise art freaks. (In any case, I felt bad enough about it that I skipped their last show in town out of embarrassment.) Bu their live shows are reportedly face-searing assaults of digital delay and Dennis Cooper-ian creep. I’ll be there this time.

(Grizzly Bear play tonight at Neumo’s with Deerhunter & Wesafari, 8pm, $15, all-ages)

NME reports today that former State/Reno 911 players Ben Garrant and Thomas Lennon are at work on a musical about Morrissey and featuring his songs.

Lennon told New York Metro: “I have an outline in my head, like ‘Mamma Mia’- type musical but with them (sic) music of Morrissey called ‘I’ve Changed My Plea To Guilty’. It’s for a very diehard set of fans.”

It is not clear when the musical will open.

(Hat tip to Idolator)

Look at what I just got in the mail:

It came from a band called Golden Robot Army.

At first I was afraid to open it. I shook it a little—it didn’t tick, it didn’t smell like something dead or digested or poisonous—so I opened it.

Candy! And with it, a letter that said “We are the Golden Robot Army! What are we like? Well, we play a sort of gypsy rock, and are heavily influenced by bands like Gogol Bordello, DeVotchKa, the Arcade Fire, Bright Eyes, the Polyphonic Spree, and Firewater.”

There was also a CD among the treats, and I’m listening to it right now (when you send a spraypainted lunch pail to me in the mail, you get to skip ahead in the “to be listened to” line). As much as I appreciate the enthusiastic press kit (I really do), the music’s not really my thing—I’m not a huge fan of Gogol Bordello either. Golden Robot Army don’t have the same chaotic vibe as the Arcade Fire, the Polyphonic Spree, and the other artists they’re inspired by. They’re not loud enough, not lush with an mini orchestra of instruments, and the one song, “Breakdown Lane” is a little to early ’90s grunge band for me to get into. But that’s okay because they’re a new band, and I think they want to get there. These things take time.

But they do put together a hell of a press kit.

The band has songs posted at www.myspace.com/goldenrobotarmy and they’re playing September 25th at ToST. Might not be my bag, but maybe you’ll be into it.

This image got me thinking:
I have always wanted to do a poetic/philosophical exploration of the relationship between dub and death, echospace and extinction. Dub is the music of the dead, music for vampires, music for a black afterlife. Dub shatters the walls of oppression not in a political sense (LKJ) but in an existential one. It imagines life without a black body, without black matter. In dub you are floating in the remembrance of things past.

Today’s Up & Coming’s suggest:

DAN DEACON, BOBBY CONN, KARL BLAU
(Vera Project) You don’t really go to a Dan Deacon show for the music. The music is great, even occasionally mind-warping—a mix of synths, effects, and toys melted by AA battery acid and glow-stick goo, all presided over by Deacon’s demented chipmunk chatter and pixilated singsong. At his best, Deacon filters Animal Collective’s post-psych tribal thump through a summer afternoon of eight-bit Nintendo and Yo! MTV Raps. But the real draw is the freak show. Deacon is a neon-splattered mad scientist, or maybe junior-high science teacher, a game show host, a carnival barker, and an absurdist motivational speaker. His monologues are easily as much fun as his retard electro jams. ERIC GRANDY

ELDER MASON, RED SEA SHARKS, 1-2-1-2, CHARLES LEO GEBHARDT IV
(Comet) It’ll be interesting to see what happens to the Comet if enough people show up to make for a dirty dance party during 1-2-1-2’s set. The walls might drip with sweat and there may be some clothing removal. As 1-2-1-2’s Stranger Band Page attests, they’re a “hot, sexy, sleazy band that will make you move!!!” Three exclamation points: They’re not fucking around. Recommended listening is the song “The Wiz” (go to www.thestranger.com/bands to hear it). It feels almost like the sadly defunct Black Eyes, if Black Eyes wanted to play horn-heavy dance anthems inspired by LCD Soundsystem. MEGAN SELING

Patrick Cowley, could be credited for bringing italo to the West Coast, San Francisco specifically. In the late 1970’s and early 1980’s Patrick Cowley produced some great italo gems, including “Megatron Man”, “Mind Warp”, “I Wanna Take You Home”, and “Menergy”. He also worked with other italo and disco artists like Paul Parker, Sylvester, and Donna Summer. Cowley was a staple in the San Francisco club scene and eventually joined forces with producer Marty Blecman to form Megatone Records in the summer of 1981. One of my favorite tracks produced by Cowley is “Get A Little” which was released as a 12-inch single through Megatone in 1981. That same year, “Get A Little” was also included on the classic award-winning LP Megatron Man. Even though Cowley’s musical career was shortened by his passing in 1982 due to AIDS, Cowley’s contributions to italo-disco and dance music in general will forever be monumental.

Patrick Cowley - Get a little (extended version)

PS - This Friday at the Solo Bar in Queen Anne, is the second installment of Club Cabana. I’ll be spinning rare disco all night long for you to dance to. Don’t miss it!

“What Would Wolves Do?”: Comparing Les Savy Fav (one of the greatest current rock bands alive) to Maritime (a nothing, a footnote to some great-to-middling Midwestern emo bands) or the Flaming Lips (good, but precious and over-rated) is just wrong. Les Savy Fav are their own awesome animal entirely. (Even Tim Harrington and Wayne Coyne’s respective stage antics put them at odds—Coyne’s shows are big, rehearsed, safely entertaining productions; Harrington’s are wild, improvisational, low-frills confrontations). But we can all agree, this song is the shit! Harrington tackles familiar, existential territory with his usual bluffing confidence (“The world may seem cruel/the world it may hate us/in time we will show the world why the world made us”), and it finds the band casually stretching those old post-punk muscles. It has me totally stoked for the new record, and confident that it can live up to their past work.

“The Equestrian”: Indeed a rocking song, and maybe a more exciting introduction for non-fans (especially if they come to the Fav by way of hardcore or punk), but I don’t think it’s better than “What Would Wolves Do.” Anyway, the best news about this track is the video competition the band’s having for it on the internets right now, which so far has yielded only these three not too impressive entries (although the one “performed in the key of Bunny” is kind of cute):

Jersey Boys – The Story of Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons is playing at the August Wilson Theatre in New York City. John Lloyd Young, who plays Frankie Valli pulls off Valli’s ball-grabbing falsetto with Tony Award winning skill. He’s completely encompassing. Jersey Boys won the 2006 Tony for Best Musical.

You know Frankie Valli, think – “Sherry”, “Big Girls Don’t Cry”, “Walk Like a Man”, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”, and “Oh What a Night”. They are doo-wop and sock hop, but they’re also from the streets of Newark, New Jersey. Seeing the songs performed within the grittiness of their story held it up. A well written, well cast, and well performed story.

John Lloyd Young’s Tony for best performance by an actor in a musical is apt and earned. The Valli falsetto, that ball-punishing falsetto is one of the more original vocals in music history, very difficult to imitate and perform. Young is right there with it, every note of the way.

The story effectively invests the viewer in the songs and the band. I found myself cheering not just because the actors nailed the songs, but because within the context of the story, the songs become underdogs and are triumphant in rising the band from obscurity. And Young singing that high without a constriction of his crotch, doing Valli justice, you have to cheer that.

Directed by Des McAnuff, and based on a book by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, the story is told from perspective of the four members: Frankie Valli, Bob Gaudio, Tommy DeVito, and Nick Massi. Late 1950’s blue-collar, struggling sub-gangsters who go on to sell 175 million records. Gaudio’s songwriting and Valli’s voice carved them their slice of prominence.

Smithereens drummer and musicologist, Dennis Diken says:

The same way the Beach Boys captured Southern California living, the Four Seasons encapsulated the Northeastern working class experience. Their records evoke the feel of New York City. They used innovative chords and changes in the songs to make the singles little worlds of their own, so different from each other.

There was a healthy competitive streak between the Beach Boys and the Four Seasons. There’s a very Valli-like falsetto tag in some of the Beach Boys sound. The Seasons responded by releasing a B-side called “No Surfing Today.”

The first three minutes of this violin and turntable performance are great:

Then it gets kind of dull.

You might not know the name Kathryn Calder, but chances are you’d recognize her voice: The singer/keyboard player is one of the many talented souls who records and performs with The New Pornographers. But tonight, she plays Seattle with her primary creative outlet, the equally delightful Immaculate Machine, in support of the trio’s new album Immaculate Machine’s Fables (which features guests including Owen Pallett of Final Fantasy and Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand). In between mouthfuls of yogurt, Kathryn fielded a couple questions for “Line Out” before hitting the road.

What is the biggest difference between what you do in the New Pornographers and Immaculate Machine?
Immaculate Machine is my band, and I’ve been in it now for five or six years. I do a lot of the songwriting. It is more of a creative project. In the Pornographers, I show up, and I play, and have a good time. Somebody else deals with most of the songwriting; Carl [Newman] is usually the one in the control booth, flying the ship.

How did your song “Dear Confessor” come about?
That was one of the first songs we had for the new record. It was written almost immediately after we recorded our last record. That always seems to happen. You make a record, and then you have all this creativity flying around, so you want to start writing songs for a new record. So that was one of them. It was written by Brooke [Gallupe], but we all collaborate. I wrote some of the words for it, and my keyboard and bass parts.

(Curious? Listen to “Dear Confessor” here.)

Did you have specific goals for this record, as opposed to the earlier ones?
Yes. This time around, we wanted to have more instruments. On almost all of our previous records, we tried to bang out some sort of facsimile of how we play them live. We didn’t put on too many arrangements, because we were concerned with creating things live. On this new record, we had a lot more time, and more instruments to fool around with. We were more concerned with the record being its own thing, and figured we’d change the songs around however we needed to, in order to play them live.

So you had to learn how to perform all the new songs live after writing them?
Yeah, most of them. Some of the string parts made it difficult. I have a real hesitation about playing strings on my keyboard. I don’t know why; I don’t find it bad when other people do it. But I like real instruments in general. But until you have eight roadies, it makes it difficult to carry along organs and pianos and all that.

What flavor of yogurt are you eating?
Just plain. Nothing. I used to hate plain yogurt, but now I quite enjoy it. Especially the Greek-style. I’m a big fan of that, maybe because there’s so much fat in it. Once on the road, I accidentally put some in the freezer, so it basically became frozen yogurt, and it was the best thing ever. We put it on pancakes. So I highly recommend storing your Mediterranean-style yogurt in the freezer.

Immaculate Machine play at the Sunset in Ballard tonight at 9 PM, with Tea Cozies and Mr. Gnome.

I forgot to mention, on my wrap-up of Monday, about the off the grid show at the Claimin’ Space exhibit. When I dropped by, Fourthcity MPC freak ER Don was rocking a set of glitchy beats, juggled jazz loops, and futurist samples. This is an Akai MPC:

This is what ER Don does with it:

The magic man plays Broken Disco next weekend, Friday the 14th at Chop Suey, along with Alex Under, Dean Decosta, Milkplant, DJ dAb, and (full disclosure) yours truly.

A little Björk should fix that…

Mötley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx just released a new memoir called the Heroin Diaries, a collection of journal entries he wrote in 1987 during the peak of Crüe’s popularity and the height of his addiction to drugs. It’s not about basketball. Here’s an excerpt:

November 25th, 1987 Lakeland Civic Center, Lakeland Fl Hotel, 4:20pm

I just woke up. I was up till noon doing blow. We hired a big conference room and just fuckin’ went crazy… Slash, Tommy, Steven, Duff, some crew guys, a bunch of whores and cases and cases of booze. We have a dealer here who just gives the shit to us. He gave us each an 8-ball and we did our best to do it all. It was insane… we piled it all up on the table. I’d never seen so much coke. Me and Tommy were trying to figure out how to freebase it but we didn’t have all the needed supplies. We tried our damnedest and ended up smoking it wet outta a glass ashtray. My fingers are fucking blistered. I got about two grams sitting here on the table next to me. I should just flush the shit but the guy will just bring me more so I might as well do a line and go to the chopper… fuck, I need a drink… my hands are shaking.

P.S. Suzette came to my room before the party and wanted to fuck me, Tommy was in here with me doing a bump and I told her to leave. She got all crazy and I threw her out the door and she slammed into the wall and started crying.

CHICKS=TROUBLE

Also released with the book is The Heroin Diary Soundtrack by Sixx’s new group Sixx:A.M. The stories Sixx brings forth in the book are pure entertainment. The album is, of course, pure KISW garbage-rock (Inside the cd there was an ad for the new Drowning Pool record! Let the bodies hit the floor! Siiiiick!). Motley Crüe’s best song – “Kick Start My Heart” - is already about Sixx being declared legally dead of an overdose before being brought back to life by adrenaline shots. That song is awesome. Every song on the “soundtrack” relies on cheesy sentiment and cliché, and might actually require piles of white powder to enjoy. Here’s some lyrics from “Heart Failure:”

Yeah, we had everything to lose
But we still lived like we were about to die
After all we were the Drug Scouts of America
I’ve begun evaporating
Right before your eyes
I just keep regurgitating
My own demise
I miss today, I miss the past
I missed my veins ‘cuz they collapsed

(shudder).

Unlike the Crüe’s group memoir, the Dirt, this book (and album) are loaded with the positive message of the negative effects of narcotics. Thanks Nikki Sixx. I’m sure this is finally going to be the conduit of change for a drug-addled nation. At the very least the book is fun to read - it’s hard to turn away from a 350 page car wreck full of 80s metal bands.

Tomorrow, Sixx is the featured speaker at a conference for National Alcohol and Drug Addiction Recovery Month. “Sixx is the first member of the rock world to share his story of surviving addiction at such an event – a particularly ironic distinction since he was once viewed as one of the most wild and excessive men in rock.” I was stoked to see on the press release that the event is happening on Capitol Hill. I was all planned to go see the washed-up hairball in person, but upon further inspection have found that the event is on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. I am devastated. The only thing that might possibly console me now is a pile of sweet, sweet heroin.

Sorry it’s been so quiet here today. The music staff finally got some sleep after the Bumbershoot mindfuck. But here’s some good news!

Les Savy Fav’s new album, Let’s Stay Friends, drops Septmeber 18th, and the band has a few new songs posted on the French Kiss site—“What Would Wolves Do,” and “The Equestrian.”

“What Would Wolves Do” is fantastic! Starts out almost like a squeaky clean Maritime pop song but then gets a little Flaming Lips-ish and embellished with some distorted electronic beats. My guess is wolves would start dancing if they heard it. Okay, that was a bad joke. Sorry. Clearly I haven’t gotten enough sleep.

“The Equestrian” is far more bad ass—my favorite of the two because I love it when dudes start screaming over thunderous drumming and wailing guitar.

I can’t wait to hear the whole album…

Despite all that Third Reich stuff, the country continues to earn props as the place where adults can drink beer on the street, Scissor Sisters sell millions, and M.I.A.’s on the cover of Rolling Stone.

Speaking of M.I.A., have you gotten her amazing new record yet? What the hell’s wrong with you?

(Thanks to Pink is the New Blog for the heads-up on the RS cover.)

Yo, I feel like straight crap. Bumbershoot is all I’ve done for the last 3 days, with it’s shitty-bomb food, smuggled Old Crow, and desperation 4-dollar Miller Lights; my guts are pissed right now. I haven’t kicked it at the Shoot like that since high school- except instead of stamp-licking and fence-jumping, it was my lanyard on which hung a fresh-to-death BumberBoard pass. Baller.

Continue reading "Clan, In Da Front" »

There’s already some pretty complete coverage of last night’s shows on here - but I figure a little more Wu-Talk can’t hurt. Before I get into the rap game though, I want to say I agreed with everything JZ said about Fleet Foxes in his recap. They were spectacular. I can’t wait to hear their full length.

I can’t profess to be a huge Wu Tang fan. Oh, I definitely like them – 36 Chambers is fer sure one of my favorite hip hop albums, and I’ve bought solo albums from ODB, Meth, RZA, and Ghostface and enjoyed them thoroughly. But I haven’t rocked Forever since high school, and I never even listened to the last one they put out, so I’m not sure I can be classified as a “big fan.” Also, I don’t particularly like hip hop concerts in general. I’ve been to my share, seen a few good ones, but I’ve left disappointed from the majority of them. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to care about the shows on Monday’s mainstage, but both of them turned out to be really entertaining.

Lupe Fiasco’s Food and Liquor was easily my favorite hip hop album of last year. In true white nerd fashion I caught an interview with him on NPR with clips of his songs and liked what I heard. Got his album and, bam, I was hooked. The man had no problem holding down the mainstage, with scores of people chanting the words to his closer “Daydreamin’.” He couldn’t quite pull of the “turn the music off so everyone can chant the words” trick as many times as he tried – after a few attempts it was jarring and irritating. Other than that though it was a great performance.

Wu Tang had no problem dropping the volume for everyone to sing along. The whole stadium was chanting “Wu-Tang Clan ain’t nothin’ to fuck with,” it was amazing. There were some negatives: from the bleachers I couldn’t understand what any of them were saying because of muddled sound (or perhaps 8 simultaneous mics), and I kept listening for Ghostface and never heard him (didn’t know he wasn’t there until today). My biggest beef was with the lame a cappella version Method Man did of “Shame on A Nigga,” calling it “Wu-Tang 101.” Seriously, that’s my favorite song of yours. Perform it.

There were of course more positives than negatives. I was most surprised by Method Man, who threw down a lot harder than I though he was going to. He was the only one who got down off the stage to interact with the audience (three times), he danced and swaggered while he rapped while all the others just stood, and his flow was the strongest and most impressive. I just kind of assumed the years of mediocre releases and deodorant commercials would soften him up, but it didn’t. Seeing thousands of people hold up their lighters and chant the name ODB was probably the most massive public display of mourning for a crackhead I will ever take part in. I know I held up my cell phone light - I loved the shit out of that crackhead.

People were still holding up Ws out their sun roofs on the way to the freeway. Wu-Tang Forever.

photos by Justin Renney

Lobster Disques is a new re-edit label that has already released three records this year,Le Disco Snip Snip EP, Eeling Groovy, and California Breamin’. The producer behind these re-edits goes by Secret Bob and he has cooked up some great re-edits, including new mixes of ELO’s “Last Train To London”, Stretch’s “Why Did You Do It”, The Jam’s “Start”, Gino Soccio’s “S Beat”, Doobie Brother’s “Jesus Is Just Alright”, Tamiko Jones’s “Everybody’s Talking” to name some of my personal favorites. Of course Secret Bob re-names the tracks with some ridiculous names, my favorite being “Jam Sandwich”, which is his re-edit of “Start” by The Jam. All in all, I think this is a great new re-edit label that is putting out some fine new edits that can really work the dancefloor along with your upcoming sunday seaside cruise. Plus, these mixes have been getting plenty action from the likes of disco vikings Rune Lindbaek and Todd Terje, so you know they must be of top quality. I highly recommend checking them out.

Here is Secret Bob’s edit of ELO’s “Last Train To London”:

Secret Bob - Last Train to Oslo

Given that there were thousands and thousands of people there each day, I know for a fact The Stranger’s music staff aren’t the only ones with something to say about Bumbershoot. So while we’re busy gushing about what we loved (and in some cases hated), consider this post your Bumbershoot open thread to talk about what you caught over the weekend.

Get to typin’, duders. I wanna read some good stories.

holy shit…the U-men give me reason enough to laugh at what passes for contemporary local (and not so local) punk, indie or whatever the former sound of revolution is now called. And, if I remember the legend correctly, they once lit the WATER on fire at the Seattle Center. Nice.

Oh, and they loved Fallout Records also!

This was just sent to Last Days, with a sideways smiley face in the subject line.

Hello! Would you do me a favor? How do I do for to talk with Peter Buck, How I make for find him? some contact or do you know anybody has it? I tried to talk with some peoples but I got confused with so many different ideas.. I am Danielli and I need to talk with Peter, Peter Buck. It is very important for me. Okay? Please I hope count on you. Danielli

Can you help Danielli make for find Peter Buck?

_{Updated. Photos by Justin Renney}

I’d never really gotten into Viva Voce before, but after their killer set on Monday afternoon I’m definitely going to dig into Get Your Blood Sucked Out now and their forthcoming re-releases due out in October. The husband and wife duo were more classically, viscously rocking than I expected, delivering psych metal drone as easily as breathy pop. Drummer/sometime acoustic guitarist Kevin Robinson pounds out rhythms, sings, and possibly loops some live percussion, and guitarist Anita Robinson just wails on that whammy bar. Sounds frequently came out of nowhere—phantom basslines, loops of feedback. Highlights included the scorched sub-country ramble “From the Devil Himself,” the sweetly spacey “Alive With Pleasure,” and the eastern dirge of “Believer.” At one point they said, “You Wu Tang Clan is here,” eliciting huge hollers and a few “W” hand signs from the audience. I’d see those “W”s at every show I went to all day.

Joan As Police Woman was pretty, sometimes sultry singer songwriter fare. Joan Wasser’s voice is impressive and wide-ranging but not showy. Both Kurt B Reighley and I felt like the band was missing some mystique that we’d associated with them, but that it was probably our mistake. Regardless, they sounded fine. What I think may have been “Christobel” was scornful, thorny and tense; and “We Don’t Own It” had a touch of Mt Eerie/Phil Elverum’s acoustic existentialist dread. Wasser asked the crowd, “Are you going to Wu Tang Clan tonight?” (I started wondering if it was a contractual obligation to mention them today or something) and those “W”s went up from the seated crowd at the acoustic folk stage. Nothing to fuck with.

_{Tokyo Police Club at the KEXP Stage by Morgan Keuler}

The next fuzz of the day was Canadian youngsters Tokyo Police Club. Seeing them live, it occurred to me that the band kind of sound like a more oblique version of their countrymen the Stills—their singer has a similarly flattened, anemic but still compelling voice, but Tokyo Police Club take a much less direct, poppy route with their songwriting. They were one of the more energetic bands I saw, bounding around stage, with the keyboardist hopping and flailing as though shackled against his will to his instrument. The band actually lucked out to be playing under the swollen gray clouds, because their dreary post punk and cool, ringing guitar echoes would’ve sounded totally at odds with a sunny day, their music better suited to cruising some arctic highway than to lounging on a summer lawn. There weren’t a ton of standout tracks, although “Nursery, Academy” was pretty catchy.

I wasn’t too impres