I’m doing what I can to spread the word about Paul A Rosales and all of his projects. This video was done for his Wonder Wheel project, which is a band that recently finished their 23rd (yes, you read that correctly: TWENTY THIRD) release entitled “Brave New World”.
This video was put together by Francesco de Gallo using the film “The Detour”. I think that the juxtaposition of the song with the film noir snippets works really well. The echoed delirium of Rosales’ vocals add a new dimension to the earnest glares of the actors staring directly into the camera, deep in thought. Imagining that this is what is going through their heads really brings something new to the picture. Take a look, and a listen. This video functions as a preview of the Wonder Wheel release “Brave New World”.
You can grab Paul’s album “Wonder Wheel I” at the Care in the Community records site. Also Wonder Wheel can be found online here and here, and Paul can be found here.
Also! Check these guys out on KXLU 88.9 FM in Los Angeles Friday, August 20, 2010 at 5 PM Pacific time (8PM Eastern). Listen here.
Oakland’s Grand Lake have presented a debut full-length that is fully formed in its sound, with variance from song to song but without taking huge leaps in genre in an attempt to please everybody. This clearly developed sound is obviously a result of the band having worked together for 15 years and touring with several different acts. They have a unique approach that is both inviting and catchy with clear arrangements and interesting sonic experiments that places them in the company of more established acts like Spoon.
Songs like “Carporforo” and “Oedipus Hex (Highway 1 North)” chart bluesy territory with lead guitar lines weaving through the vocals evoking the sound of early Dire Straits tunes like “Down to the Waterline” or “Sultans of Swing”. The guitar echos as it fades away from melodic lines that never take up too much space, and this is an album that is concerned with the proper use of space. The bass picks up the role of a rhythm guitarist in its ever-present, sometimes distortion drenched thickness while drummer John Pomeroy changes things up in the background. Their sonic palette does not simply consist of lead electric guitar, bass and drums, though. Grand Lake employs the sound of a string quartet in several tracks, acoustic guitar as harmonic backdrop when necessary and glockenspiel in places. These new sounds never take over, and are never too much, they serve the songs well with vocals and clean guitar work always front and center.
Grand Lake's - "Blood Sea Dream"
Most notable is “Our Divorce”, sounding like something taken directly from the Jeff Buckley songbook. The string quartet serves as accompaniment to this mid-tempo waltz with a gently swaying guitar melody that blissfully careens through the chorus, ducking from major to minor with ease. Contrast this with “Spark”, which is a bit more aggressive, which grows to a loud climax that is simultaneously shouted and pounded out on the drums. The contrast is welcomed but we never stray too far from home, even with the almost ambient drone of “Threnody for F.A. Mesmer”, a respite placed just after the middle of the album.
Opening track “It Takes a Horse to Light a House” sounds like the best candidate for a radio-friendly single in an album that is chock full of catchy hooks and tight songwriting. The memorable melody in the verse, set against a spacious arrangement of electronics and delicate guitar work would fare well on any college radio station, but it certainly doesn’t define the album in its entirety. The album revels in its contrasts, but the band manages to keep a singular sound throughout. They have the ability to go from dark musical territory in “Concrete Blonde on Blonde (880 South)” to “Riderless Horse” which is spare and spacious, opening up and showing that they are not afraid to let the vocals stand out almost completely unaccompanied.
Grand Lake’s focus on tight songwriting and musicality with special attention paid to clear arrangements pays off. “Blood Sea Dream” is a solid way to bring a full length debut into the world.
You can preview the album in its entirety at their bandcamp site here.
I just want to write something, hopefully brief, about a single song. The song in question is by a band from Peterborough, Ontario, Canada that goes by the name The Burning Hell. The band’s personnel changes from album to album and from show to show, the two times that I have seen them. The main songwriter and driving force behind it all is Mathias Kom. He plays a mean ukulele and writes some of the best, albeit also some of the quirkiest, lyrics around.
There is an underlying feeling of tongue in cheek, self-deprecating humor present in most songs that Kom delivers in a very convincing and very low baritone. You never know if a song is going to be depressingly looking at the upside of things or cheerily looking at the depressing side of things. This song, falls more towards the latter, but not very much.
It begins with a lone strummed guitar, and the song continually builds for 5 minutes. It doesn’t simply build in volume, but instruments are added, lyrics become more dramatic, the singing becomes more desperate, Kom reels you in as if he is pleading with you on his knees.
There is no verse/chorus/verse structure in place here. Simply sets of couplets that each begin with the word “Love”, comparing it to everything from a monster truck, to an interstate, to a hurricane. Some of the comparisons initially elicit a smirk, or maybe more, but the tone of the song will instantly dart its eyes at you and make you feel awkward. This does not paint love in a favorable light by any means.
I think the lyrics speak for themselves. I have always just loved this song, it’s very moving, and very powerful. Have a listen via the link at the bottom of the post.
Mathias Kom of the Burning Hell
It Happens in Florida
Love, it’s like a hurricane:it happens in Florida, it gets into everything.
Love, it’s like a monster truck: it fills up whole stadiums, but it crushes smaller trucks
Love, it’s like a marmoset: it may be small and cute, but sometimes it eats its young
Love, it’s like a trailer park: ugly but functional, the rent is cheap enough
Love, it’s like a garbage man: it collects waste and filth, it smells like rotting flesh
Love, it’s like an interstate: it gets you from place to place, but it’s littered with dead raccoons
Love, it’s like a newborn child: seems interesting when it’s young, gets pedestrian after a while
Love, it’s like a hurricane: it happens in Florida, it destroys everything.
When it comes to Titus Andronicus’ “The Monitor” there is no such thing as hyperbole. There simply isn’t a way to describe this album well enough to get across the point of how amazingly complete, perfectly executed, and complex it is. There is so much emotional and musical substance contained within that the album seems to burst at the seams demanding to be heard. For the first time in a long time a band has put out an album that has equal amounts substance and passion. Equal parts rock and roll swagger and punk rock attitude with reckless abandon.
Titus Andronicus' 2010 release "The Monitor"
The album takes its name from the first iron-clad warship that was used by the Union forces during the American Civil War. Singer/guitarist/lyricist Patrick Stickles uses the civil war as a concept to which he compares his own life. The Civil War in the United States was an unfortunate circumstance that was ultimately a necessary part in the growth of the country. Stickles sees his own life’s problems—and adolescence—in much the same way. One gets the impression from the outset of the album that he is running from something. He leaves New Jersey for Boston. His intentions are stated in the opening track “A More Perfect Union”, saying “I never wanted to change the world, but I’m looking for a new New Jersey”. It isn’t too very long before he realizes his mistake: “I realized too late that I never should have left New Jersey”. He is running from problems, not willing to discover the root cause. This comes back to hurt him because naturally “[he] thought that [he] had gotten away but they followed [him] to 02143” That being the postal code for Somerville, Massachutsetts which is just outside the city of Boston. Thankfully, through the course of the album he comes out on the other side of it victorious. These songs serve, at once, as a celebration of victory with a warning to others that will surely go through the same trials AND as an expression of his own skepticism about surviving the war that he is essentially fighting with himself.
Though he is fighting with himself first and foremost, he does label “the enemy”. He let’s us know that “the enemy is everywhere!” throughout both “Titus Andronicus Forever” and “….And Ever”. This is after he realizes that moving to Boston was not the answer to his problems, whatever they may be. He never comes right out and says exactly what he did. We just learn bits and pieces, generalities, that paint us the picture of his being ashamed with himself. This becomes clear in “No Future Part III: Escape from No Future” wherein Patrick sings “I used to look myself in the mirror at the end of every day, but I took the one thing that made me beautiful and I threw it away.” Very powerful and honest stuff. We are witnessing him become his own worst enemy.
There is more going on than simply Stickles running from his past. There is a fairly complex concept taking shape. Everything about this album is thoroughly post-modern. Excerpts taken from speeches and letters of important figures involved in the Civil War that introduce and close many of the tracks are juxtaposed with Stickles’ comments about his own state of affairs. Quoting Abraham Lincoln, “I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family there would not be one cheerful face on Earth,” Stickles quickly segues into “No Future Part III: Escape from No Future” which begins with the lyric “everything makes me nervous, nothing feels good, for no reason…” The feelings of dread and alienation are absolutely palpable, sung in a depressed tone of voice that is recorded to sound even more hollow. He blurs the line even further between the narration and his own commentary by inserting equally well-written declarations into some of the songs. Most noticeable is the end of “A More Perfect Union” where he states he exclaims, “I will be as harsh as truth, as uncompromising as justice. On this subject I do not wish to think, or speak, or write with moderation. I am an earnest. I will not equivocate, I will not excuse and I will not retreat a single inch, and I will be heard!”
Stickles sings with passion and anguish. The element of honesty in his words can not be overlooked. The theme of running away from his problems develops into attempting to cover up his feelings the one way he knows how: drugs. “Smokin’s been okay so far, but I need something that works faster.” He says this right before declaring that he never wants to experience feelings ever again. At this time it is nearly beside the point what happened to him earlier in his life, he is now stepping into a world of despair voluntarily and one gets the impression that he knows exactly what he is in for but simply doesn’t care anymore. It is clear that he is getting really messed up on drugs in order to forget the way that he was treated in the past. The realization that he is only doing to himself what others were doing to him is now making that pain even worse. He doesn’t care about himself and he knows that nobody cares about him either.
References to the past are made, evoking the person that he feels he used to be and contrasts that with the person that he is now. “I surrendered what made me human and all that I thought was true. Now there’s a robot that lives in my brain, and he tells me what to do.” He has given into addiction. This double edged sword is a catalyst. He no longer has any feelings, or cares, but realizes now what he is doing to himself and is not happy with the person he is continuing to become. The opening of “A Pot in which to Piss” contains some of the most telling lyrics that reach back to Stickles’ days in High School. He tells us about his good grades, his winning smile and his pride in the 7” that his band had just released. These positive thoughts are not presented in a way that calls upon the listen to be happy. Instead there is an ominous drone blanketing his speech, letting us know that things aren’t going to stay placid for long. He sets himself up again by stating “You can’t make it on merit, not on merit and merit alone.” Now not only is he preventing himself from having feelings he is excusing himself from any opportunities that he once had. The only clue we get that someone else was involved, or that there was some slighting that happened is via the ultra bitter lyric in “Four Score and Seven”: “But when they see the kind of person that you really are, then you won’t be laughing so hard.”
Titus Andronicus live
Alcohol is a prime theme through many songs, most notably in “Theme from Cheers”. Nothing seems to be getting out of hand on the surface. A group of friends, sitting around, getting drunk, talking about the future. There is clearly an underlying pain that keeps creeping through though as described in the lyric, “So let’s get fucked up, and let’s pretend we’re all okay”. Things get darker still when Patrick admits that he needs to “escape from reality” followed by “I really don’t feel like doin’ this anymore.” It is right then that the song lurches forward to dreams about the future and the fond rememberances that they are all going to have, wondering why they were all so worried. “What the fuck was it for anyway?”
This brings into question time as an element used for the concept of this album. Yes, it is ‘kind of’ about the Civil War, which happened nearly 150 years ago, but it’s clearly about Stickle’s own life. But this album is as much about us, the listeners. We are the final link in the story, listening to this album finally brings some of these issues to rest as we are compelled to join the chant of “You will always be a loser” at the close of “No Future Part III: Escape from No Future” grows louder and stronger, becoming a battle cry. We are now a part of this album.
It may seem all very heavy handed to write an album with discrete references to the Civil War. It’s not exactly a popular topic among music fans in their teens and twenties. To be brash enough to compare ones own life to such an epic, bloody conflict strangely works on The Monitor. It works very well. Frighteningly well. Everyone can relate to the urgency and self-importance of growing up, making mistakes, defining oneself, the disintegration of idealism, etc. Life is a war. What’s important to realize here is that Stickles, like the soldier that he seems to be comparing himself to, is fighting. He’s fighting for his life, and he doesn’t want to stop to feel bad for himself. He’s screaming back at himself from the realization of what he is becoming and the possibility of what he could be and what he wants to be.
The post-modern element cannot be denied. From the outset, the first thing we hear is “are we ready to go?” spoken as if unaware that the mics are on. Are we listening to an album that is so set in its concept that the entire thing is pristine, with all the rough edges trimmed away? We are not. We are allowed to experience the music as if we were spectators to a very personal and heart-wrenching speech given directly to us. The repetitive weaving of speech and letter excerpts with the singer-songwriters own words rework a a personal space/time continuum that brings self-awareness to a whole new level. Or, could it be the other way around?
The music is not derivative, but that doesn’t mean that the band is afraid to wear their influences on their sleeves. Bruce Springsteen has been mentioned a million times before when talking about Titus Andronicus. It’s impossible to ignore that the music also shows a very prominent classic punk rock influence while utilizing trusted song elements like a 12 bar blues format and straight up boogie. Honest to goodness solos being traded off without a hint of irony. An important distinction of the Titus punk is that they steer clear of fighting “the man,” instead are caught up fighting with their own past. This album and this band are honest, more honest than I think many bands are. They are, also, fearless.
All of the influences are seamlessly put together, not as a tribute and not as some hipster type of ironic commentary on the music of the past, but instead as a development of these musical elements, showing that they have a place in new rock. The styles flow into and out of each other in a way that makes perfect sense and Titus pulls it off so convincingly that it never comes off as forced. The length of each of the tracks mark a fete unto itself as half of them come in at over 7 minutes long and none of the songs get tired and boring. This band is able to build and turn out new riffs as the minutes tick by. Endings of songs are carefully crafted such that they become beginnings to other songs, gently fading out and becoming new again.
Some songs have several sections to them, such as “Theme from Cheers”” which is divided into 3 distinct parts and are held together wonderfully despite the continuous variations in style. Guitar rock is traded for honky-tonk barroom piano as Stickles imagines himself as an old man reminiscing of the good old days. The band has the ability to start a song at the 10-second mark and continue to grow, even in “The Battle of Hampton Roads,” the 14 minute final track that doesn’t have any extraneous filling and contains some of the albums most dramatic music and shockingly honest lyrics.
The Monitor is a nearly flawless album from a band that is still very young, an absolutely mind-blowing combination of elements. Thoroughly post-modern, thoroughly American in every way imaginable— this band is so good and the writing is so smart it makes you wish that you lived in New Jersey. Now that is saying something.
Lightning Bolt, on the surface, seems simple enough. Two guys, Brian Gibson on Bass and Brian Chippendale on drums, are responsible for making enough noise to fill stadiums. Their music is an all out aural assault, yet it’s not all just free improvisation and noise as it may appear on the surface. There is a subtlety to their art that can easily go unnoticed to those unacquainted with the band’s output.
Based out of the Providence, Rhode Island artspace known as “Fort Thunder”, Lightning Bolt originally began as an art school project when both members were attending the Rhode Island School of Design. The music that Lightning Bolt creates is powerful and energetic and incessantly so. It seem to break the laws of physics that a band can produce 5 albums of impossibly intense music without letting up, but they have. Their albums are best enjoyed at the loudest volume possible, they almost demand it. This is not quiet music by any means. It seems to eschew the values of any typical touring band, more concerned with keeping the energy level high than admitting that there needs to be time to cool down. The music is urgent. This is also true of their live shows. They are never willing to give themselves a break.
Lightning Bolt
Seeing Lightning Bolt live is another experience entirely. They usually play directly in the crowd, instead of up on a stage, with the crowd encircling them and at times pushing against the drums, which are placed directly in front of all of the sound gear. The wall of gear is stacked precariously behind the Brians and is seemingly thrown together from odds and ends that creates an astonishing level of volume and feedback that serves as a constant counterpoint against which they are playing their music through.
Gibson stands stoic to one side, nearly expressionless, fingers effortlessly flying up and down the neck of his bass which, incidentally, is a 5 string tuned in 5ths like a cello with the two highest pitched strings taken from a banjo, which really helps to cut through the sludge of the distorted lower register of his instrument. Meanwhile Chippendale is a flurry of non stop excitement as he desperately and relentlessly fills every possible nanosecond with a drum hit or cymbal crash. He is a new breed of drummer, the best kept secret of the underground crowd and a testament to human endurance. The complexity and accuracy with which he plays is a sight to behold, if you are able to stand still long enough and not be swept away in the pulsating crowd to watch.
The two lock into a groove and work as one, churning out music that is at once trance inducing in its sometimes minimalist compositional approach that is at the same time loud, foreboding, and fierce but firmly grounded in structure, yet not so much that there isn’t room for them to search out new ideas in the midst of a song.
Hiding behind Lightning Bolt’s wall of noise and fighting through the feedback are rhythmically complex and strangely catchy melody lines and Chippendale’s all but indecipherable and infrequent vocals that are sung through a telephone’s microphone which is held in place by a mask that he wears while performing that hides his face but makes him and his playing seem all the more crazed. Seeing Lightning Bolt live is truly a unique experience and will bring you to the heights of excitement and leave you completely exhausted but satisfied. Truly a rite of passage. Plant yourself firmly in front of the drums, hold the crowd back and prepare yourself to feel music like you have never felt before.
Unfortunately they just finished touring, but you can check their official page or their official myspace for tour dates when they post them.
To try and understand what a Lightning Bolt show is really like, check out these videos:
I see this show as a conclusion to the just about 2 weeks of insanity that I put myself through that started with Titus Andronicus in Buffalo on the 13th and continued through Pitchfork in Chicago. What a way to end a series of concerts!
Opening band, Fang Island, played a fairly lengthy set of tunes that are clearly influenced by the arena rock and prog. rock of bands like Yes and Boston. Their sound was crystal clear with guitars swirling all around, bouncing off of each other throughout extended, yet tightly controlled and segmented jams. It is kind of refreshing to see a band that consists of kids that clearly were not around for the arena rock thing at its peak, dishing out guitar solos. Fang Island doesn’t really focus on the vocals, which I see as playing to their strength. Why cloud everything up with words if what you are trying to say is completely contained within the music? They even used a MOOG for a few of the songs, which really helped to solidify that Rush prog. rock arena kind of sound. The prog elements were definitely there in the music, but the changes weren’t so lurching and pretentious. It’s not like they were up on stage playing songs that they wrote just to prove how smart they are. Think of a slightly less aggressive sounding Iron Maiden. Or better yet, Iron Maiden crossed with Explosions in the Sky.
Wayne Coyne came out onto the stage before the show started to inform us that he was a bit skeptical about coming out in the ball. The way that the space is designed there are seats all the way up to the stage and I think he was nervous about depending on so few people to hold him up. It ended up being worry for nothing because after the band emerged from the vagina of a woman dancing on the screen behind the stage he stepped into the ball and walked nearly all the way to the back of the indoor seats. Sadly I was at the front of the lawn, and there is no way that he could have made it back there.
Of course, as everyone online probably knows The Flaming Lips really know how to open a show. Within moments there was confetti everywhere, hundreds of balloons floating and bouncing over the audience, streamers, bright flashing lights and pulsating psychedelic trance rock booming from the PA. No matter how many times you experience that you can never get over the absolutely uplifting feeling of all that excitement all at once. They pull out all the stops at every single show.
Flaming Lips at the Lewiston Artpark on July 22, 2010
The set was full of new material from “Embryonic”, which is really a return to a bit more of the abrasive side of the Lips that they seem to have been moving away from on Yoshimi and At War with the Mystics. The songs all come off great, and they really know how to fill a space. They were energetic, focused, spot on and loud. They really do have a unique sound that is sort of designed for even larger venues.
But they aren’t afraid to pull it back either. Their set list is very carefully designed it seems. Most songs have quiet introductions or quiet codas that help to bring some shape to all of the non stop excitement. The entire experience is pretty well paced. The last time I saw them was at a festival setting and I came away wanting more. It is only now that I realized that they really don’t benefit from a short time limit. The show needs time to develop, they take time to connect with the crowd, they really don’t work well if they are just cramming in song after song after song like Japandroids or Lightning Bolt. Going to a Lips show is a journey.
Great show all around. It’s good to have the boys so close to where they record their albums. Dave Fridmann was spotted at the side of the stage by one of my friends, and I believe it since he is so important to their sound. If and when the Lips come to your town, do whatever you can to go. It is an experience that you will not soon forget.
Since listening to Tokyo Police Club’s latest album “Champ” and reviewing it here I have only grown to love the album more. For a few days I had to listen to it first thing in the morning and then just before I went to bed. The closing track “Frankenstein” is one of my favorite tracks of the year so far, no question.
Since writing my review of the album that I posted not only to this site but to Groovemine I discovered that my blog was linked to by the people over at BaebleMusic.com. If you haven’t been to that site, please do yourself a favor and go there now. There is a TON of content over there, including many many exclusive full concerts and interviews and pictures. There is really just a ton of great content on that site and it’s worth bookmarking. So I just wanted to take this time to not only thank the people at Baeblemusic.com for linking to my blog and talk of my growing love for “Champ”, but to send any people that I can over to their site.
Follow this link for Tokyo Police Club’s entire concert performed exclusively for BaebleMusic. Scroll to the bottom of the page for bio, pics and Youtube videos.
Here’s a little taste:
If you haven’t already, run out and buy the new Tokyo Police Club album. It’s really great. I’m going to think about posting about the Flaming Lips show that I saw last week. Until then….
With his debut solo album Paul A. Rosales creates a complex sound world that completely envelopes the listener from first track to last. With an understated guitar pushed to the background behind ever present vintage sounding synths and vocals treated through an array of varying echoes and delays that sometimes change as the songs develop, this is an album that demands the full attention of the listener. True headphone music.
The opening track, “Crimes”, introduces us at once to all of the elements that are present throughout the album: a driving, urgently attacked guitar that is made to sound less threatening by being set way back in the mix. The tone of the guitar is clean, but rounded out a bit with the help of a phaser. Synths are layered over top, taking precedence in the mix, even over the vocals. The synth tone covers everything in a wash of color similar to the retro sound of Neon Indian. It is the aural equivalent of a grainy VHS tape playing old home movies. The bass pops up between the synth and the guitar with a persistent line that wants to encourage you to dance, but the trippy vocals and disorienting drums will probably find you too out of sorts to try.
Most captivating in this wash of visceral noise are the vocals. They are made cryptic, shouting out from the back of the room, trying to reach above the din. Some of the words break through, but they are layered over each other with a good dose of delay. It is clear that Rosales is interested more in creating sounds and then manipulating them than he is in creating catchy pop hooks. The closest thing that we do get to a catchy pop tune is “She Tells Me” that is guitar driven and precariously close to having qualities that would make the listener want to sing along to the stand out line, “I fucked up, she tells me” that is repeated several times.
Paul A. Rosales - "Wonder Wheel I"
In “Bastard of a Man” it is startling to hear the vocals so up front and out in the open. Most of the instruments are stripped away to make room for the lyrics “Don’t give up baby/Don’t worry baby” made all the more disconcerting through a vocal approach that doesn’t settle into pitch until after the words have already been delivered. The delay on his voice in this track bounces along with the drums. He’s really in complete control of every element of the sound on this album and even more so by taking the entire sound as a whole and casting a bit of distortion and fuzz on to it as if the recording was a little too hot. Especially on “Bastard of a Man” the grittyness is amped up a little bit more than on any of the other tracks.
“Clarity Dissolve” adds some dimension to the sound with drums that were recorded to sound like they are a mile away, and the vocals are once again pushed to the back of the mix and this time sung in falsetto. The guitar is more up front, taking the role formerly held by the synths, by creating an amorphous cloud of overdriven sound. The synth line is only able to be heard in tiny bursts as if it were trying to take quick breaths.
Altering sound elements is not the only way that Rosales builds his songs. On many of the tracks the beat has a fluidity to it that creates another level of motion against the shifting color palette. Sometimes the vocal delivery is a bit relaxed and behind the beat, creating a push and pull from where one would expect a new measure to start. This is the fluid element to the song writing. That is not the only way that it is done, for example in the song “Change Faster” he swings from a steady eighth note pulse that alternates with a few bars of a metric modulation that speeds things up slightly, giving an off-kilter motion to the song.
Overall this album is a study in sound manipulation more than it is an exercise in writing standard, radio friendly songs. This album is pretty far from being radio friendly with its truly lo-fi production and all around grittyness. This is an album of experimental sound sculpture disguised as songs. There are some very interesting things going on throughout, and I would suggest giving this album the due time that it deserves to sink in and truly begin to enjoy all of what it has to offer.
What is one to do after 3 days of attending a major music festival? The answer is clearly to catch one of the bands that you saw at the festival in a small club setting. Real Estate played the Pitchfork Music Festival on Saturday at the main stage to probably something like 10,000 people. Getting to see them again, this time at a club with a capacity of less than 200 (I’m guessing), changed things a bit, for the better.
Opening, and already well into her set when we arrived, was Zola Jesus. Her voice is beautiful and haunting and the backing music was not quite danceable, but not exactly droning either. Could we be happy with a classification of “electro-shoegaze”? Thankfully for her, the music is wonderful because her stage presence was unnerving to me. She paced relentlessly back and forth across the small stage for an entire song, which took my focus off of the music and placed it more in the “is she ok? What’s going on?” as my eyes moved back and forth following her. For her last song the pacing continued, but this time in a straight line from the stage and through the crowd. When she reached the point where I was standing she turned around, and I realized how short she is (about to my shoulders). When her set was finished she promptly scurried up the stairs located to the rear and side of the stage, never to be seen again for the rest of the night.
Huh.
Anyway, I was really there because of Real Estate. Like I’ve said on here before, I love their album and their performance at Pitchfork was great so I was expecting another great set. I was not disappointed. The set consisted of pretty much the same tunes as their set from a few days before, but there was more banter, and I think that the size of the club really helped them make a strong connection with the crowd. At least that was the case with me. The sound at the Subterranean is really good, and the mix was clear. I also like that the bar is parallel to the stage, so people don’t tend to crowd around it, and I could zip back for a beer or 3 or 4 and quickly return to my spot at the center of the floor where Kurt Vile can push me out of the way to make his way to the front.
Upon visiting the merch table I saw that there was another Real Estate record that I don’t have. Unfortunately I don’t have money to change that, but after hearing those new songs a few times I realize that I need that album. It’s on my ever-growing list of “albums to get”.
I took one picture at the show, with my phone. Here you go:
This was the grand finale of the festival. The lineup was pretty stacked this day and it all seemed to go by too fast. There was an early morning shower, but it was all sunshine and 90ºF by the time the gates opened. It was a day of math rock, rap, crowd surfing, moshing to Lightning Bolt and nearly passing out and finished with Pavement, followed by an aftershow at the Subterranean featuring Zola Jesus and Real Estate, but let’s just stick with the festival.
On the B stage was Chicago band Cave, opening the day. I think the rain set things back a little bit on the side stage, so their set didn’t start on time, though I think things were sorted out quickly so that the rest of the day ran on time. Cave’s music is what I would consider heavy stoner rock. They are very riff heavy with a rhythmic focus and not much more than one chord per song. They had a lot of energy and elements of psych rock via delay pedals and keyboards, though there was not much in terms of vocals. Really good band to open up the day with and they had a pretty decent sized crowd. The opening commentary provided by some dude in military fatigues was kind of lame though. I don’t think anyone quite got the joke, or if there was even a joke to get.
I had been anticipating Best Coast‘s set for months and months. Sadly, they did not deliver. Maybe I just had too high hopes. Maybe it is best that they have just been releasing one song at a time. Their sound is highly recognizable with reverb laden guitars and vocals, getting that famous “wall of sound” Phil Specter sound with a surf rock sort sound added in. Their performance was just not impressive. Their set simply showcased the similarities between Bethany Cosentino’s songs. There were two songs in the set, back to back, that featured the exact same 2 chords over and over, which is the kind of thing that annoys me to no end. Is she aware of what is going on in her music? What is she focusing on when she writes, or puts a set together? Lyrically everything is about missing her boyfriend, wanting a boyfriend, and pot.
I imagine that the album is good from a timbral standpoint. There is good production, but I think that those production values factor in a little too heavily to her sound and the songs just can not stand on their own, exposed like this at a gig. The album is far too short as well, less than 30 minutes. This isn’t an album review, but I wasn’t going to spend money that I don’t have on an album that short by an unimpressive band.
We made our way to the main stage for a set by Girls. I made note of their good ensemble work with their sophisticated pop songs though I didn’t really find many hooks to grab onto. The tunes were all well played, the crowd seemed pretty enthusiastic. The video screen showed a bunch of people in the crowd swaying and singing along. I just couldn’t get that into it. I was ready to be won over, but I think seeing this band for the first time in this setting just wasn’t working.
The lead singer played a Rickenbacker, and the other guitarist was with a Les Paul. I tried to make note of the guitars that appeared at the festival, because I think it says a lot about a band, or the sound that they are going for. I think this was the only Rickenbacker of the festival that I saw, though Annie of St. Vincent may have played one, I’m not sure. On a side note that is completely unrelated: Someone tweeted that the singer for Girls looked like a cross between Macauly Culkin and Kevin McDonald from the Kids in the Hall. Looking up at the video screen only proved him right.
Beach House brought their very low-key but lavishly beautiful songs to the main stage next. They provided a subdued set of keyboard driven tunes. I did like the guitar work (Les Paul again) and I really love the singer’s voice. The all around sound was very atmospheric, not too upbeat but perfectly crafted. I will definitely have to familiarize myself more with their music and I would suggest them if you don’t know them already. For some reason I used to get them confused with Real Estate, but I think that was mostly because Real Estate’s music makes me think of being at the beach. There are, come to find out, no real similarities between these two bands.
Beach House photo by Kirstie Shanley (2010 all rights reserved)
Previous to this festival my favorite juxtaposition was Iron and Wine followed by Mastadon a few years back at the 2008 Pitchfork Music Festival. We may have a new winner. Memories of Beach House’s delicately crafted atmospherics were obliterated when Lightning Bolt started.
Lightning Bolt. Where to begin. I wrote this down after their set was over because I was too busy being thrown around in the mosh pit to even try to write things: “Total. Fucking. Insanity”. Though my hands were shaking a lot when I was writing that so some of the letters are wrong, and out of order. It was just non-stop bassy, thrashing energy-fest. Even the heat did not stop the Brians or anyone in the crowd from going batshit crazy. The pit was huge and very intense and I was in the middle of it. As soon as the first snare drum attack I was pulled from the side of the audience and into the middle and then pulled all over the place. They did play some new stuff like “Collasus” and I think I heard “Transmissionary” and of course all the Lightning Bolt classics.
I think I nearly died twice. I had to be pulled out at one point because I couldn’t seem to keep my feet under me. I chilled for a song or two and got back in there for the last song. This was by far the most fun I have ever had at the festival. Total and complete abandonment. Good times if you know the band, but I imagine many people were wondering what the hell was going on. Lightning Bolt has been one of my favorite bands for a few years now. I could listen to their music all day. They are an interesting study in subtlety and intensity at the same time. Very interesting from an analytical standpoint. That is for another time though. This set was simply amazing. I don’t know how Brian Chippendale is not dead.
I will take a little tangent here to talk about the pit and the security at the festival. The people in the pit were helping each other out. If someone was looking like they were in trouble someone would hold them up, a ring of people would form around them so that they weren’t in the fray and they would be given water. Everyone would just pour water on the person, feed them water directly from their water bottles, and make sure that the person was doing alright. The security people at the front of the stage were continually spraying us with water from water bottles, handing water out and just making sure that everyone was alright. Chippendale would, thankfully stop after a little more than half the set to check up on his drums. This provided us with a much needed break, as I’m sure it did the same for him too. He also called out to us during the end of the set, pointing to specific people and expressing genuine concern.
“Are YOU alright…..how about YOU, are YOU ok?”. He must have been watching us. I can’t believe how amazing this band is. Great music, great guys. Fun fun times. Last thing: Most rock and roll moment. The set ends and the pit is dispersing. Sweaty people everywhere trying to walk away, staggering about. There was a general feeling of camaraderie like we had all just had this wonderful shared experience. A guy walks past a few of us in a white shirt with a significant amount of blood on it. Someone says to him, “Hey man! You’ve got a lot of blood on your shirt, are you ok?” to which he responds, “Yeah, I see that, but I don’t know whose it is”.
I was planning on seeing another band immediately after Lightning Bolt, but definitely needed food and water after that. I can’t remember who I missed, but the next act I caught was St. Vincent. I think the original plan was to catch all of her set, but making sure I didn’t lapse into convulsions seemed more of a pressing concern.
The end of St. Vincent‘s set blew me away. I don’t know where I got the impression that the music would be quiet and singer-songwritery, but I couldn’t have been happier to be proven wrong. Lead singer/guitarist Annie Clark was a crazy person on stage, and can shred the guitar like a maniac. She seemed to be in the same state that Isaac Brock was in on Friday night. She just loses herself completely to the music. The music was a really polished, arty, technically proficient showing with a good amount of noise thrown in, and very energetic. I left her set reminding myself to get her latest album.
This was a tricky part of the night a few things going on at once that we wanted to check out, but we were also still exhausted from Lightning Bolt. Major Lazer was up on the main stage, and it seemed like it was basically Diplo up there doing all the work while the other dude ran around the stage, jumped off a ladder to hump a dancer, jumped into the crowd and generally served as hype-man. I admit, despite the dancers, the humping and the Chinese New Year dragons up on the stage, I was bored and skipped out after about 15 minutes.
Over at the B stage was Neon Indian, the apparent torchbearer for the newly dubbed “Chillwave” genre. Sadly I couldn’t get anywhere near the stage after he started, so we just decided to go back and get a half way decent spot for Pavement.
Pavement. Pavement. Pavement. I have been waiting for this for a long long time. Not as long as some. I came to Pavement late in life. I don’t think I heard any albums until 2006, but once I did, it was a non-stop Pavement fest in my apartment and in my car and on my iPod for a long long time. When they announced they were reuniting I was ready to travel almost anywhere. When they said they were coming to Pitchfork I nearly died. I didn’t have to go to them, they were coming to me.
They played all the hits, “Cut Your Hair” was the opening, “Range Life”, “Silence Kit” and on and on. Everyone in the crowd seemed to know every song. We all sang along, bounced up and down, shouted, had a genuinely amazing time. I definitely did not want their set to end. I can’t say enough great things about their set. They met expectations, they seemed to be having a great time up there playing. Malkmus was loose and throwing down guitar parts with seemingly no effort.
Mysteriously theirs was the only performance not broadcast simultaneously online. Reports vary, and I’m not going to write anything I’m not sure of. It lived up to my expectations. I could have cried right there. It was definitely something special and they packed their hour with song after song after song. Everyone was great, it was fun. Enough said.
I took some very crappy video that I will share here that honestly has more sentimental value than anything else. The festival was amazing and I don’t think I am the only one wondering how the hell Pitchfork is going to keep growing after this. It’s a shame that some people missed this. In my opinion the audience for any of these bands should be enough to fill a park twice the size of Union Park, but at the same time I am proud to still be able to be part of this growing secret society.
Goodbye Union Park. Until next year I will dream of baking in the sun, standing on your baseball diamonds and resting in the shade of your tall trees.
![](http://bandcamp.com/files/32/69/3269641674-1.jpg "Grand Lake - "Blood Sea Dream"")
![](http://www.brooklynvegan.com/img/music2/Titusalbumcover.jpg "Titus Andronicus - "The Monitor"")
![Paul A Rosales "Wonder Wheel I"](http://c4.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/148/l_ba76fbb032f54fc389a96eea5ac4b917.jpg "Paul A Rosales "Wonder Wheel I"")
