57 posts tagged “music”

There are a few bands that always put me in a good mood. The Toy Dolls is (are?) one of them. Happy Punk-vember!

You know who were pretty good for like five minutes? The Charlatans UK.

One of the things I find remarkable about my childhood is how much overtly gay music I devoured as a young, oblivious metalhead. During Rocktober 2008, I discussed Accept and their opus "Balls to the Wall," paying particular attention to the track "London Leather Boys." I can't recall exactly what was going through my mind when I was obsessively listening to this music written by and for leather daddies, but I recall thinking they sounded super badass.

This year, I thought I'd call out Exhibit A in the openly gay heavy metal phenomenon, Judas Priest's "Raw Deal". When lead singer Rob Halford came out of the closet a few years ago, he pointed to songs like this one and openly wondered how his "secret" wasn't discovered sooner.

I had the pleasure of seeing techno pop darlings Matt and Kim perform at the Black Cat in Washington DC last night, and I can say without exception that 599 of the 600 people in attendance had a fantastic time. The duo played their two-minute pop gems with an unbridled intensity that thrilled their core fans and won over anyone who may have been on the fence.

Anyone, that is, except for one grinchy red-headed music snob. Hotrod came to the Black Cat looking to hate something, and unfortunately for the Brooklyn-based duo, they fell under his basilisk stare. Although I believe Hotrod's real reason for hating Matt and Kim had mostly to do with spite and his ink-black heart, the reason he gave for disliking the utterly likable act was their lack of musical talent.

In his scathing takedown of the duo, he complains about Kim's straightforward drumming style and Matt's simple, catchy keyboard hooks -- two things that Matt & Kim fans would probably cite as selling points.

That's because for Hotrod, and many of his ilk on the snobbier side of the music fan spectrum, it is musical virtuosity, rather than energy and innate pop sensibility that makes a great band. This is why so many people in the indie community are so content to watch introverted auteurs in dirty clothes noodle listlessly through two-hour sets. The very idea of musical talent trumps all petty concerns like enthusiasm, stage presence and showmanship.

The problem with this philosophy is that a talented rock musician is kind of like a talented fry cook. He may make a decent burger, but he's no chef.

During by brief, failed attempt to learn guitar, I had the opportunity to take lessons with a staggeringly talented guitarist. Larry could play everything, but his passion was jazz, which he played on a custom-made eight string guitar that cost more than the down payment on his house. Larry liked rock and roll just fine, but he made it clear that even the best rock guitarists were pretty average by the standards of the larger musical world. The issue is that rock -- even at its most noodly -- just isn't all that complex compared to other forms, meaning that rock musicians are perpetually operating at a lower degree of difficulty than their peers in the jazz and classical realms.

Now, none of this matters if you listen to rock music for the reason that most normal people listen to rock music. For most of us non-musicians, the energy, lyricism and vitality of rock and pop far outweigh any deficiencies in the raw musical talent of the performers. But for those rare rock snobs that value virtuosity above the style, energy and culture that make rock music interesting, a change in listening habits is probably in order.

So Hotrod, this if for you. He's supposed to be right up your alley.

Watercolors

Pat Metheny

1 comment

When I was younger, it seemed that appearing on a commercial either a) automatically disqualified a musician/musical from having any artistic relevance or b) was the cause of great rending of garments and gnashing of teeth on the part of the musical cognescenti (see Beatles: Nike). I distinctly recall the outcry that ensued when the Flea and Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers appeared in a camera commercial, a commercial that -- if I recall correctly -- didn't even include one of their songs.

Well the advertisers are clearly winning, because nobody even bats an eye anymore when Iggy Pop shows up during a commerical break peddling "Search and Destroy Pop Tarts," or whatever. One curious side effect of this new coziness between musicians and the commercial masters is that advertisements for amazingly banal products increasingly feature really good songs.

All of this is a really long way of saying that I recently sunk to a new personal low for discovering a new musical act.

This is the video for "Daylight" by Brooklyn pop duo Matt & Kim (No, it isn't. God I hate the new YouTube embedding regime. The video is worth clicking through, but I won't blame you if you don't - ed.):

Hotrod came over today to break in the shiny new copy of Rock Band II that CarrieNation and I picked up today (also purchased: two new fish, Butty and Knuckles, but that's another post). In short order, we had created a new fake band, "The Red Devils," named after the hot sauce CarrieNation put in our popcorn. Rock Band II is just like Rock Band, except better and with lots more songs. Although we have yet to unlock all of the reported 80 songs available in the game, a couple early favorites have emerged: CarrieNation likes "Livin on a Prayer"; I'm partial to "Man in the Box"; and Hotrod loves "That's What You Get," by Paramore.

Good times all the way around. Our band features CarrieNation on vocals (she has actual vocal talent, while both Hotrod and I are past winners of a bad singing contest), Hotrod on the skins, and your humble author on lead guitar.

While the song list in the new game represents a significant improvement over its predecessor, I see substantial room for improvement. So here then, are the top 10 songs I'd like to play in video game form (I'm now starting to think that Hotrod did something like this once, but I'm sure his list sucked):

1) White Man in Hammersmith Palais (the Clash) -- duh.
2) We are the Champions (Queen) -- I long ago swore that if I ever won a televised award, I'd sing this as my acceptance speech.
3) Little Guitars (Van Halen)
4) Tuesday's Gone (Lynard Skynard) 
5) Anarchy Burger (The Vandals) -- This song has always made me deliously happy
6) Bigmouth Strikes Again (The Smiths)
7) I Wanna Be Adored (Stone Roses) 
8) Blood and Thunder (Mastodon)
9) Stranglehold (The Nuge) 
10) Body of an American (The Pogues)

I'm back to hating Dan Bejar.

Slipping back into my deep loathing for that affected hair-farmer was like putting on an old pair of sneakers, or rereading a favorite book: at once comfortable and comforting.

I remember the moment that I started hating Dan Bejar like it was yesterday. The New Pornographers were playing the encore of the most disappointing concert I had ever attended, and had to pause as they recalled Dan Bejar to the stage to perform "Jackie."

At this point, I had already begun working on a seething dislike for Bejar, who left the stage anytime he wasn't singing one of his featured songs and spent his few minutes in the spotlight looking like he'd rather be having a root canal. But that dislike metastasized when Bejar lumbered back onstage with holding a half-eaten sandwich, blinking confusedly at the notion that he might be asked to sing a song. He choked down a particularly large bite of sandwich just before his lyric kicked in, meandered through the song and then wandered back off stage, presumably to ransack the buffet.

How I managed to fall out of hatred with Dan Bejar is a bit confusing, even for me. I suppose it started when I realized, upon a re-exploration of Electric Version, that Dan Bejar was responsible for virtually all of my favorite New Pornographers songs, led by the transcendent "Battle of the Comeback Kid." From there, I somehow talked myself into buying an album by his band Destroyer (the ludicrously named Streethawk: A Seduction) which, to my chagrin, I liked quite a bit. Before I knew it, I had developed selective amnesia and purchased tickets to a Destroyer concert.

Much to everyone's surprise, the concert rocked. Bejar was engaged, the band was tight, they played great songs and somewhere along the way, I stopped hating him. 

I now know that I was right the first time. That good Destroyer show I saw must have been the result of some sort of tear in the space-time continum, because Dan Bejar is a bastard and his live performances are insultingly awful. I had the misfortune of seeing him again at the Black Cat this week. Expecting the same tight, dynamic band as I had witnessed the last time around, I was greeted by just Dan, with an accoustic guitar, a scruffy beard and a shirt that I could smell from the back of the club.

I don't like one-man accoustic sets. I think I should be warned if I'm going to be subjected to one. But even among the anemic sub-genre that is solo accoustic pop, Bejar's performance stood out for its indifference, sloppiness and disdain for its audience.  F.

It was fun meeting Homebody in person, though I'm concerned that she now thinks of me as being even angrier than I actually am. It was also fun watching Emma Peel undermine the show by shouting New Pornographers titles. Stil I'm done supporting Dan Bejar's career. I mean it this time. 

...is contained in this picture:

Some mellow rock with your macchiato

Incidentally, this was one of those days that made me happy to have a Camera phone.

Wow indeed

So the question is, would you rather get your music at Starbucks or the CVS? I think I'll go with option #3: Trident.

I am fundamentally opposed to seeing music performed in sports venues. The sound quality always sucks, the jerk-to-not-jerk ratio is unacceptable and the venues themselves are way, way too big. I've felt this way for a long time and I more or less swore off of arena/stadium shows in college.

I say more or less, because up until December 22, 2002, there was one circumstance in which I would not only go to a stadium show, but camp out to get front-row seats. But when Joe Strummer died, the possibility of a proper Clash reunion vanished, and so too did the likelihood that I'd ever again willingly see a jumbo-venue concert.

One thing I dislike almost as much as concerts in giant sports venues is live albums. Live albums provide all the downsides of live musical performance -- poor sound, mistakes, ragged vocals -- while offering none of the energy and sense of community that make concerts worth attending in the first place. This probably explains why it took me so long to pick up a copy of The Clash Live at Shea Stadium.

Live at Shea Stadium

The Clash

I finally righted this wrong on on Thursday, and I can say without exception that it is the best live album I've ever heard. The set list is spot on, they sound amazing and the album reminds me of why the Clash will likely always remain my favorite band. As always with Clash performances, the songs take on a greater urgency live. Sloppier, certainly, but also faster and more aggressive. The intensity and vigor of the show is particularly remarkable since this was a band not at its peak, but rather nearing its end.

I'm sure that my blind and incessant Clash boosterism is beyond tiresome to everyone but me, but I still highly recommend this album to anyone who likes the band and its music. It also wouldn't be a bad theraputic purchase for those tin-eared, deluded souls, who "don't understand what the big deal is" about the Clash. Though, I'm not so sure that those people are worth saving.