Archives : all posts by Sean

A long entry today, so skip ahead if you like. Please don't miss the film at the end, though!

The Arcade Fire [mp3] / PAS/CAL [mp3] / Jandek in Glasgow / The Diskettes / The New Humour [film]

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The Arcade Fire - "Power Out (August Session)". Whereas the Funeral version of "Power Out" is a joyous suckerpunch, a glowing hailstorm, a prodigal song, this early studio recording of the song is full of play, hope, abandon. It's a sound not yet fully grown, streaking through the field. The song evokes a premonition - a child with some sense of the force it will carry, the troubles it will face, the battles it may wage as an adult. Everything's looser than the album version; wooden swords in place of knife-blades, early evening in place of night. The bass-line's still got baby teeth.

True, this August recording lacks the Funeral version's visceral impact. But if the final mix is a soundtrack to war, the disco-anthem for a crisis, "Power Out (August Session)" presents a world that need not be so dark. The narrator sounds desperate, sure; he's leading his force of kids, hunting, revealing, battling. But when Win sings, here, that "there's nothing hid / from us kids," it doesn't sound like such a hard-fought declaration. Maybe there's nothing revealed because there's not very much hidden. Maybe the world's not really that dark after all. Maybe these kids' games aren't necessary. Maybe things are okay.

The bass isn't so vicious. The blackbitingbird strings are nowhere to be heard. And there's this soft swell of horns, some reassuring choir - a far cry from the roaring, scouring blast of the live version. Perhaps the kids need to do this marching, this dancing. Fair enough. But the lights will be on when they get home.

The "August Session" is one of the b-sides for the new "Power Out" single, released in the UK this week. (The vinyl editions of the single include live recordings of "Power Out" and "Naive Melody (This Must Be The Place)" [with David Byrne].) Different people than on Funeral are playing several of the parts (Will on bass, Tim on keyboard, etc.). [buy]

PAS/CAL - "Summer Is Almost Here". What a splendid and sensational pop song - what fun! Ho-lee cow! "The summer is almost here," yes! And if it's any help there are:

• jingle bells;
• hand-claps;
• dun-dun-dundun-dut-dut-dut-d'dudda-dun-dun-dundun-dut-dut-dut;
• farfisa;
• stumbly drums;
• The Beatles singing "And the summer is almost he-e-ere";
• strings and a bare piano;
• flower hats;
• girls with daisies in their hair;
• really good chewing gum;
• a brush-shuffle thing;
• Tullycraft, if Tullycraft went kind of prog after a Sunny D bender with Brian Wilson. uh.;
• stomps!;
• boings!;
• a festival of the sort you have never experienced, and never will again. you must leave now - come on! we're going up to the Crags! we'll eat fruit taffy! there will be tulips, and grass!;
• "grown men show a fatty bosom" / "short pants are a sign of weakness";
• fin.

[The PAS/CAL/La Laque split single is available as a promotional download til' May 27. Order the 12" here.]

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On Monday night I went to Glasgow and saw Jandek.

He didn't look at the audience when he came in, thin as a stick, with pleated pants and a collared shirt. He sat down straight at the piano, and when the bassist (Richard Youngs) and percussionist (Alex Neilson) were ready he played songs for ninety minutes. Meditative piano, notes tumbling away like clean water, a path through the bass' long bow strokes and the breaks of light cast by bowed cymbal, snare, by tibetan prayer bowls and chimes. "What do I have?" he asked in each song, speak-singing with a flat human breath. He answered in different ways - "Insight," he sang once. "Nothing," he answered later. He tried to work things out. He let his thoughts linger. There was an ache, an honesty, and a deep sadness. With each song the percussion became brighter still, more beautiful, as if lending Jandek more and more life. He took this, he held it, and so too did he resist in. There was resignation and struggle. It was powerful, captivating, sometimes boring. It was something else.

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Said the Gramophone friends The Diskettes [website] are on tour in Europe.

If you don't know about The Diskettes, you should. They are rad and there are mp3s at their website. This is what I wrote about them for an as-yet-unpublished article:

The band was born when Barclay and Emily Beliveau started playing music on the Victoria beach, practicing doo-wop songs and Everly Brothers covers. Now based in Montreal, their second LP, Weekends at Islandview Beach, is handclap indie-pop, blue-sky folk, picnic blanket bossa. It’s beautiful, simple and glad.

"We played a few shows and accidentally put out a record. After puzzling over ... poorly attended shows, a friend of mine told me that people only like bands with drums and guitars. So we asked our friend Maggie to play percussion with us. Now we play whenever, where ever - no amps, no PA, no bars or clubs needed."

Tourdates (click for details):
May 28 - Edinburgh
May 29 - Glasgow
May 31 - London
June 1 - Lund, Sweden
May 2 - Kalmar
May 3 - Goethenberg
May 4 - Stockholm
May 5 - Eberswalde
May 6 - Wiemar
May 7 - Berlin (w/ Japanther)
May 8 - Exeter, England (w/ the Chinese Stars [!!!!])
May 9 - Leicester
May 10 - Northampton
May 11 - Nottingham
May 12 - London
May 13 - Brighton
May 14 - Bristol (w/ Mirah [!!!!!!!])
May 15 - London (Plan B Anniversary Party)

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Finally, a few words on the short film, An Introduction to the New Humour.

Dan Beirne (yes, of this blog) has made a documentary about two of Montreal's most remarkable artists. They are Joel Taylor and Jordan Himelfarb (yes, of this blog), and they call themselves the New Humourists.

The New Humourists write and perform pieces which embody the freshest, strangest, densest, most poetic and absurd comedy I have ever heard. I described it once as Monty Python meets Michel Foucault, but I do not really think this does them sufficient justice.

Their narratives are weighted with an encyclopedic degree of allusions, references, diversions, distractions. More than that, though, they are mischievous, playful, punning, happy. They will make a joke about Jeremy Bentham's remains, then - for a giggle - turn around and say "balls!". They will contradict themselves, they will inflate themselves, they will wind themselves into knots of wit and language, then show the knot to be the braid in some cute girl's hair. They will amuse, flummox, alienate, inspire. They'll make you laugh.

It's not for everyone, but it ought to be. One of the things I love about the New Humourists is that different jokes reach different people. The Cultural Studies PhD will be guffawing at some throwaway mention of Deleuze & Guattari, then Jordan will say "plinkity-plonked the bass" and have the 14-year old in stitches. Joel will hold the syllable of a word for just a little too long, and I won't be able to help myself - even as my partner sits stony faced. It's diverse ,it's unexpected, it's weird, and it's glorious.

Dan's film, however, isn't just a showcase for the New Humour. It's much better than that. It's a documentary about the New Humour - of the New Humour, even, - but so too is it a documentary about the Humourists themselves. An Introduction to the New Humourists is essentially about friendship, great friendship. It's about private language. It's about the loneliness of individual (ie, non collaborative) art. It's about recognizing the splendid. It's about love and nonsense. It's really, really great - and I don't say that just because they're my friends.

If you have a Bit Torrent client, you can download the 12-minute film here. You can also download a teaser trailer. The torrent may be slow for a bit, but it'll pick up.

Please be sure to email Dan (or Jordan) - or leave a msg in the comments - to tell them what you think.

Fifths of Seven - "Echoes from a Wandered Path". Now here's something unexpected... Fifths of Seven are a new group, a collaboration between Spencer Krug of Wolf Parade (on piano and accordion), Beckie Foon of A Silver Mt. Zion and Set Fire to Flames (on cello), and Rachel Levine (of Cakelk) on mandolin. Spry From Bitter Anise Folds has been released on a small french label, Les Disques du soleil et de l'acier. It's a long, long way from the wrecked passion of Wolf Parade, and distant too from SMZ's ravaged hymns. Fifths of Seven devote themselves to the unadorned music of an instrumental trio, the play and interweave of themes, the flutter, rise and glow of a melody. More than anything it recalls Rachel's; deeply atmospheric, carefully pretty, an empty church chapel with dark Goya portraits on the wall. [buy]

Mynah - "Evil Caribbean". Emma sent me this yesterday. I don't really know what to make of it. It's from Preface, the debut EP from New York's Mynah. It's fantastically compelling, running circles in my head, drawing me back and back and back. It's got fast bits and slower bits, mellow ones and noisy ones. It's also, in some ways, actually bad. But the melodrama and fumbles are just the flaws this song needs, the stuff that makes desperation and debauchery feel immediate, attractive. The Killers crossed with Antony & The Johnsons (okay, that's a little absurd. but-!). And if the lyrics make you squirm just turn it up because the next bit's going to have a disco-beat and the crunch of guitars - there's always a new bridge around the corner. I mean, there's even xylophone! [Download the rest!]

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Elsewhere --

Poptext's got the new Charlotte Church single - no, wait, hold on! It's a pop song so great that Poptext left Church's name out of the writeup, lest anyone be inclined to ignore it. The drums smash through everything, everything, horns like demolition balls, and there's even unflinching undistracted solid go-go-go handclaps. I don't know why Abby keeps falling back on an apologist line - this is clearly fantastic, "Sweet Dreams My L.A. Ex" without the slink, high-flying and Rockette-kicking. Yay!

Stereogum points to a great track by The Sun. I was going to make fun of their being described as "Spoon"-like, but I see a retraction has already been posted. Comments on that post suggest that they might suck as a band, but there's no getting away from "Must Be You"'s chartworthy Shins-meets-Bishop-Allen guitar-lickin' awesome.

I think I should become friends with the Popsheep kids, because their posts are driving me wild with pleasure. Our tastes seem to be well in line; it's rare that a day goes past when they're not teaching me about something keenly wonderful. I had never heard of Sub Pop's Baptist Generals, but the tune they've posted is a dusty, twangy anthem, most reminiscent of the Daniel Johnston-fronted track on Okkervil River's Don't Fall In Love With Everyone You See.

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And I'll take the mostly-silence to mean that I needn't tell you about Dungen. Hope you're all enjoying the record as much as me.

Devin Davis - "Cannons At the Courthouse". I wrote about Devin Davis back at the beginning of March, in my Music That's Been Blowing My Mind, At Least A Little Bit series, but I only received the album this week, so it's time to talk some more! It's called Lonely People Of the World, Unite!, a title which with one exclamation mark goes from boringly emo to wholly fucking amazing. When I ordered the CD I asked Devin if labels were banging on his door yet, and despite the flurry of blog-posts about him, it seems the answer is no. I cannot get over this. Devin Davis is one of the most exciting artists I've heard in the past year; his lyrics are like Wile E. Coyote flare-bombs, his melodies leave you slavering, and the arrangements - dear god. He recorded this on his own, but there's more sound here - more wild, joyful, surprising, boisterous sound, - than any other singer-songwriter record since Aeroplane Over the Sea. It's The Kinks mixed with Jim Guthrie; it's rock and shirtsleeves folk, it's rhythm & blues and psych-stumbling calamity.

Borrowed Tunes already posted this song, "Cannons at the Courthouse," but my other two favourites on the record ("Iron Woman" and "Giant Spiders") have either been posted on Gramophone before, or are available for download on Devin's website.

Devin does tons of things right on Lonely People..., but one of the big ones is that he keeps his cracklin' songs short. "Cannons at the Courthouse" is the only one to crack four minutes. I'll permit it, in this case, cause he's telling a crazy Mark Twain story, because the song is epic without being a drag and it's got horns, handclaps, choir, an acoustic guitar at the beginning that makes your expectations hilariously flat. It's not long before Devin is "on the roof of the White House," "smok[ing] reefer" with Willy Nelson. Then he's dodging cannonballs, navigating apocalypse, going ethereal and pipe-organ for the bridge until the drums tumble all the way down the stairs, breaking the speakers, guitar fuzzybig, and everyone together, single-file, trooping Yellow Submarine style to the absurd wooly ark of an ending. Whew.

Somebody please sign this guy - or at least get him into the shops over here!

[buy]

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Micah P Hinson - "The Day Texas Sank to the Bottom of the Sea (Demo)". A few weeks ago I heard a concert by Micah P Hinson. I wrote about it briefly, and a little review is going to appear (I think) in an upcoming issue of Plan B, so I won't go on about it. But I will say again that it was one of the most exciting concert experiences, for me, of the past year. That it was as if Micah removed the top of his head because he needed more room to let the feeling out, that his electric guitar was jerking in his hand, that he broke his throat with the trueness of his song. I've been quite disappointed with the record since getting it earlier this week; it's so much prettier than the gig, and I've still not been able to separate my feelings on the subject.

So here's a demo, from the demo CD Micah's selling at his shows. This isn't a noisy feedback storm, but nor is it the velveteen blush of the studio.

Micah doesn't sound like anyone else. He doesn't. Here's a quiet song, slow-going, the raw blues of a single guitar, but we don't hear Billy Bragg, Elliott Smith, Will Oldham, Mark Eitzel or - ha - Sam Beam. No, it's something else. The same handful of lines, repeated over and over again (in concert, repeated till they seem to say everything about everything), a mantra that says so little but encloses so much. It's a song that aches in the gaps between words, where the rhythm that the words are sung - the pauses, the inflection, the emphasis, - expresses more than the glib-and-dead voice, the skeletal lyrics. It's like nothing else I can think of, except maybe Johnny Cash on his very last legs, the way he made those covers say something completely different. It's as if all of the emotion of this song is sewn into the inaudible, and somehow that audible is, well, audible. You sense the darkness and the resurrection, the resignation and the spine, the regret and the promise. It's sad and it's grey; it's smouldering and it's golden. A song for desolation and also cornucopia.

Micah's currently on tour (and coming back to Scotland) with [ugh] Vetiver. But you should probably go anyway. In June a new 8-song thing is coming out, called The Baby and the Satellite, which is supposed to be "a much more stripped down, less produced affair than the ‘Gospel of Progress’ album, relying more heavily on Micah’s beautiful cracked voice and twisted tales of love and lost." Which suggests, to me, that it will be awesome.

[buy]

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The Dungen album is about to be released over here on Memphis Industries (see: The Go! Team). They broke on the blogs while I was in Europe, but I'm not quite clear how wide they did so. Brash, bubbling, marvelously flush psych-rock. The album's great - if anyone out there is interested in hearing something, let me know in the comments. (Otherwise I'll assume everyone had heard it but me.)

Radio Free Calamity is a podcast radio show operated by two of my Torontonian cousins. They're great and silly shows, sometimes thoughtful and sometimes nonsense, and it's fantastic to hear kids' voices so uncensored and carefree. (Neither Silent nor Cruzette are yet in high-school, even.) Recent questions: "What are yearbooks for?" "What are some good Beatles songs?" and "What's a gino?"

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Elsewhere:

A lovely track from Josephine Foster's pre-Born Heller/The Suppose days, as The Children's Hour, at popsheep. Summery and humus-brown.

At ORTF, Alex gives a wonderful review of a recent Loudon Wainwright gig in Amsterdam (a pleasure if you speak french); and also, just before, posts some Portuguese revolutionary songs, the highlight of which is José Alfonso's "Venham Mais Cinco", which is to me like Wes Anderson ca Rushmore, all the naive happiness of life and then the unfazeable ticktockboom of the drums on the right, silliness regulated by heartbeats, some things just can't be argued with. A joy.

At Swedes Please, a hooray hooray lovely hooray pop song from northern Sweden's Sibiria, called "Ljusdat". (Seriously, this is well worth clicking through to get.) It's in Swedish but has a plummy guitar I want to gobble up, a tune for wintertime falling-in-love, or maybe a springtime breakup. I don't understand a word but I can still understand that it's about washing your hands and then going outside, dancing down the street because you can't help it, because you've got to dance some time, and besides it's 5am and no one will see you except the caribou.

Amerie - "One Thing (Siik Remix)". I heard this on The Site Which Shall Not Be Named and was going to post it myself, but lemon red points me to the original source, where it's still available. It's "One Thing" with an even warmer sunshine, with tropical guitar and, gosh, words fail me. It's really, really nice.

And R Kelly's closet thingies? Oh my, yes!