Archives : all posts by Sean

Tennis - "Marathon" A summer song from a wife-&-husband duo who drift in, er, certain circles, and so there's a little too much hiss here, in a song that would be better served by fidelity, or at least a little fidelity, not too polished either, let's say lo-fi; but this small thing aside, it's a summer song that somehow escapes being too beachy, too calypso, as is the trend in, er, certain circles, and instead Tennis's summertime is wildflower valley, full July, thistle and shade, bursting with glee but not sunbleached; just right. [thanks Chris / MySpace]

PS I Love You - "Starfield". With a mixture of the Pixies' goofy desperation and McLusky's desperate goofiness, PS I Love You make a song that's catchy and elastic, romantic and stupid, a string of "fucks" with a starry sky at the end. It makes me imagine a certain kind of conversation, the kind of conversation that goes like this: "It's okay, dude. Calm down! Have a glass of water. Now we're friends. (... ...) SPACE LION!" [thanks James / MySpace / buy]

(photo by Ryan Schude)

Young Galaxy - "Suzanne". There was something about the Spanish team, that year. They were not the fastest, nor the most precise. They were not aggressive, nor meek. Their play seemed to come from a different place than the other teams'. They moved like fireflies in a copse. They would pass silently across the field, through and among their opponents. Their only sound was the ripple and flick of their royal-blue uniforms. The Spaniards were tireless and strange. They raised one arm when they wanted a pass; they had dark eyes; the balls seemed to follow them; they touched, they touched, they touched. The other team would not understand. They would simply not understand. The vuvuzelas sang their doleful b-flat. The Spaniards passed the ball to and fro, crisscrossing like kites, 32 passes in a single play; and then finally, with something like regret, into the goal. They placed second, behind Argentina.

[buy Young Galaxy's bright ivory new EP, No Art on iTunes / See them on tour this month with the Besnard Lakes, or beside Adam & the Amethysts and Little Scream at Montreal's Belmont on June 26.]

Pat Jordache - "Phantom Limb". I wrote about this, Pat Jordache's debut, last month. Now it has a name. It is called Future Songs. It is available here, for whatever price you name, or on limited-edition cassette. I saw Pat again this weekend, backing Tune-Yards for a few songs. He played his guitar like he was playing the gold prize in a physics contest. He played it like he was a soulful emperor. Future Songs is no longer confused; it is rough-housing; it is stargazing when you're in love, reeling from a blow to the head, wearing sunglasses. "Phantom Limb" is a song you can leave behind and then come back and it'll still be good later.

[buy]

(photo by Shadi Ghadirian)

William Basinski - "Disintegration Loop 1.1 [excerpt]".

I don't do this very often, a big interview on a local subject, but Montreal's Suoni Per Il Popolo festival is not just a treasure that more of the city's music-lovers ought to take pleasure in, but a possible model for festivals worldwide. Small, ambitious, utterly splendid, Suoni's organisers have for 10 years been bringing some of the planet's most adventurous, deep-diving and volatile artists to Casa and Sala during the month of June. This is not staid indie rock: it's free jazz, free folk, noise, contemporary classical, musique actuelle, weird punk. All the stranger stuff, curated with verve and playful skill. For me, much of this music works best in a live setting - that is, I don't always get it when I'm listening to a CD - so Suoni offers an unrivalled gateway into new feelings. It's beautiful, sometimes scary. Every year, a new slate of names I've never heard of, or barely heard of: a hundred different tantalisings.

I reached out to Suoni's Mauro Pezzzente and Kiva Stimac (founders) and Steve Guimond (artistic director), to ask a few questions for my own sake, for your sake, and perhaps for those who mount shows outside of this fair city.

A decade on, how do you maintain Suoni per il Popolo's identity? What is it that sets the festival apart and how do you make sure that it retains those qualities?

Our idea has always to get better and better, not bigger and bigger. Suoni has always stuck to its original mandate: to celebrate Liberation music, music that is inspired by freedom of expression, improvisation, and sonic explorations that appeal to music aficionados worldwide. Having this as a starting point helps us keep things in check musically and philosophically. We have also operated out of the same two venues, year after year. Casa del Popolo + Sala Rossa = Suoni. They are such great, intimate spaces to hear music in, and the bonds created within their walls between artist and listener are second-to-none; they are almost unparalleled worldwide. Finally, the festival has never been about us, but about the artists and the fans.

Organising concerts and promoting festivals are largely thankless jobs. Is this something you struggle with? What rewards do you draw from this work?

We all lead busy lives outside of work (partners, children, bands, businesses), but Suoni kind of keeps us grounded. To see where it's grown to today, in comparison with the earlier years, is inspirational. Suoni has always been about friendships with the artists, and building bridges directly with them. We've managed to keep things very casual and open, and more importantly personal. This is where the joy comes from.

Do you have any advice for people starting a festival?

Follow your heart and your ass will follow. Make sure you are doing things for the right reasons, ie the music you love and artists you respect.

Suoni's programming can be intimidating. It's also a wonderful, wonderful opportunity. What's the best way for people who don't know these names to figure out what shows to go to? Streaming musique actuelle, free jazz or noise MP3s rarely seems to communicate what the artist is about.

Good question. I guess firstly do a bit of research, as we do when we're checking out new artists. The internet has opened up so many listening possibilities and wonderful discoveries. Trust your friends. (Word of mouth is a powerful tool.) And take a chance and trust us! We put a lot of time and effort into programming the nights, and much thought is paid to both fans and non-fans. Much of what is deemed 'leftfield' is actually quite accessible, but for whatever reason, the artists in question just haven't broken through to more listeners. Our website is flush with way more bio info, links, streams, and videos.

For the people I'm gesturing toward above, who are curious but not knowledgeable about this kind of music, which acts should they see at this year's Suoni?

Tough question, but these are the not misses: Grouper, Pocahaunted, Radian [We've already missed these!! - Ed.], Emeralds, Kidd Jordan/Hamid Drake/William Parker trio, No Neck Blues Band, Oneida, all the artists at No Fun Night, William Basinski, Matthew Shipp trio, Vandermark 5, Globe Unity Orchestra, Talibam!, Aki Onda, Kath Bloom.

For those who are already into these kinds of musics, what's the mindblowing stuff at this year's festival which they might overlook?

Definitely one of the most out-there musicians we have ever come across, from Paris, Ghédalia Tazartès. We discovered him a number of years ago through friends of the festival who raved about his music. Last year he presented a trio here, Les Reines d'Angleterre, as he told us he needed six months to prepare for solo shows and he could not ready one in time for June 2009. After last year's performance we arranged to have him come back alone this year. He is an artist who must be heard to be believed. He's created his own language, musical and otherwise, that knows no boundaries and is truly uncategorizable, save for the utter beauty and emotion he conveys.

Further, William Basinski (mp3) is a must. He's a seminal figure in the underground minimal/ambient electronics field, who's been plugging away for twenty-five years now. Only in the last couple of years has people started to pay attention. His music will make you cry.

Finally, how has Montreal changed over the course of Suoni's decade? Besides buying tickets, what can those of us who live here do to help make sure that Suoni - and likeminded projects - never, ever go away?

Ten years ago, Montreal was a wasteland in terms of the presentation of these types of concerts. There was a lack of promoters and stages. There are still too few stages in the city, but the amount of crazy music to be heard has certainly exploded compared to a decade ago. Now, Montreal is a must stop on may folks' touring itineraries. I guess the best thing that Montrealers can do to keep Suoni rolling is get involved. Our doors are always open. We survive each June with the help of many volunteers. And dialogue is important as well; we rely on our friends and fans to keep us informed about new music or bands they've some across. Many of our shows come from personal ties between local artists or promoters and the bands. And of course, help spread the word about our little festival!

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Suoni Per Il Popolo runs until June 26. My own dumb-dumb highlights, from the remaining calendar, include William Basinski, Tune-Yards, Julia Kent, Frog Eyes, HEALTH and Jeff the Brotherhood, Tonstartssbandht, Where The River Got The Water, Kath Bloom and the Judee Sill tribute. I also try to make it a priority to attend the various (free) artist workshops - caught a wondrous thing with Akron/Family a couple of years back. But don't mind me - I'm going to follow Mauro, Kiva and Steve's advice above; with Suoni it's always best to stray from the known path.

Silly Kissers - "Sweet Adrian". He gave you his keyring and said, "find me". He was wearing a blue tank-top. As he biked away, the roadster's chrome flashed in the evening light. You flagged down a cab. You said, "follow that boy." He knew you were behind him; he wove and swerved; he jumped a curb and vanished down an alley. You would have to do this by feel. You exited the taxi, paying with a $20. You ran. On a block filled with apartments, you strode back and forth, sniffing the air. He was in here somewhere, with his feet up, waiting for you. The street smelled of sweet smoke. You jingled the keyring in your hand, squeezing the plush ape keychain, wondering which screen-door to break down. [buy, previously]

Nina Nastasia - "You Can Take Your Time". Nastasia's new album, Outlaster is wonderful, better than her last, full of strings and Jim White's prowling drums. Its most earnest moments - like this, a song of advice and comfort - still feel partial, slightly hidden. This has always been her way. Nina Nastasia sings sweet words, and sad words, but she never sings all of them; she leaves things out. These blank spaces are spare rooms, empty woods, cupboards to slip into. [out today - buy]

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Even after this weekend's two exceptional shows, am keen for what this week is to offer: Saturday is Tune-Yards, the Suoni festival is due to begin, and before all that, on Wednesday, the grand re-opening of the Rialto - one of the city's most beautiful venues. Just $5, featuring the Luyas, Avec Pas d'Casque and the Hoof and the Heel.

(photo source unknown)

There are other great bands too;
I saw Silver Mount Zion tonight.

Arcade Fire - Notman House, June 4, 2010.

You could hear them through the walls. We waited, stooped on the steps of the Notman House, and you could hear the unmistakable call of the band inside, soundchecking, rehearsing, throwing full fists of guitar-chords. As the sky left wet pinpricks on our arms, I imagined a thousand people assembling in the street, squeaking to a stop on their bikes, hearing that wild noise through the walls and knowing: they're back.

Arcade Fire had not played in Montreal for three years. Now, before releasing their third album, before touring festivals and arenas, they were playing a small room to a very small crowd. It was not a "secret" show; it was a private one, a warm-up for Monday's warm-up. And although it was an open secret that Arcade Fire had been practicing for weeks around the corner from my house, at the Ukrainian Federation, I don't know that any of us had heard a note. For The Suburbs, they were laying low. And then someone pulled open the door of this dusty, crumbling mansion, and fifty of us slipped inside.

In the Notman House living-room, they played twelve songs. They stood on a ragged carpet, sweating. Christmas lights were braided over amps, keyboards, guitar-stands. It was like I was back in 2002, watching my favourite band play at a party for Concordia grad students. This time, their instruments were new, polished, rare; the crowd concealed tattooed crew-members and a flotilla of photographers; the group were veterans and stars, and I was jaded. But as Arcade Fire fired into their second song, an incredible number called "Ready To Start", I discovered something I had not expected: the eight-piece I had loved and loved and loved were once again my favourite band.

They wore denim, plaid, haircuts shaggy or close-shaved, like junior-high ca. 1994. Régine, Richard, Sarah and Will played with all the unrestrained joy they always have, wide-mouth singing. Tim and Jeremy were proud soldiers. Win looked older, sang better; he stared at us with a doomed gaze, weary and smoldering. Yet this is not the same band who made Funeral or Neon Bible; Arcade Fire seem sharper now, tighter. There are no drama club histrionics. They are not over-serious; they are simply serious. Their hooks and handclaps are underlined by noise, feedback, thundering four-axe attacks. They no longer sound anything like their imitators, and if once they evoked Bruce Springsteen, U2 or the Talking Heads, on Friday I heard the Clash, New Order, Clues and Big Star.

They played eight new songs. At home, I had been warming slowly to "The Suburbs" and "Month of May", listening to them spin on my turntable, ever so slightly warped. Live, both were better. "The Suburbs" crackled with tension, dread rising up in violin, viola and synths. There was a similar feeling to "Modern Man" and "Suburban War" - tunes that seemed both desperately lost and very precise. They felt different than what Arcade Fire has done before: measured, simple, but still tightly coiled. Like the work of Spoon: a song as it is, tempered until it's more than it is. Nothing unnecessary, no loose flames. Win sang like he was made of straw.

It was a different story on "Empty Room" (I think that's its name), a howling rocker with Régine singing lead. And "Rococo" is a delicious maze of a pop song, with the title as its chorus. "Rococo rococo / rococo rococo." Win sings it like it's a death sentence; but around him, behind him, the band make it baroque and birdsong. My favourite was either this or "Ready to Start", a hit in the making; noisy, electric-charged, built on bass riffs and handclaps.

Songs like "Tunnels" and "Power Out" sounded as good as they ever have (and "Keep the Car Running" sounded better). "Wake Up" seemed angrier. But the new songs were so strong that I didn't crave the old; I was almost disappointed to hear "Wake Up" as the encore. Lyrically, the new ones felt like brothers and sisters: suburbia is an extension of Neon Bible's downtown ennui. Win is still asking questions about purity and purpose, but whereas the last album aimed at gigantic idols, the new imagery feels more personal. In these songs, I heard nothing like "Antichrist Television Blues" or "Windowsill"; there were no apocalyptic fables or ambitious world slogans. Instead, there was naturalism: small pictures of joy, calamity and stasis. The images were nostalgic, bittersweet, but never maudlin. I heard regret; I heard loss; and a sometimes direct voicing of heartbreak.

For the first time since the departure of Brendan Reed and Dane Mills, eons ago, Arcade Fire have two drum kits. Régine and Jeremy played together for just the first few songs, but instead of adding elaborate flourishes, polyrhythmic fills, the drummers were each-other's ghosts. It was as if the drums were double-tracked, folded back upon themselves, like the shadows in an old cassette tape. Other than this change, the new material didn't bother with instrumental novelties: no hurdy-gurdy, melodica or accordion. Instead, there were often just four electric guitars, heavy as hell, and charging.

Leaving for the show that night, there had been the frisson of attending a small and secret event; excitement for new music; sadness that I couldn't bring guests; but also a degree of distance, the self-conscious cynicism of going to see a band that I loved less than I used to. Two hours later, I had been completely overtaken. I was dazzled and rosy. I was with a friend, thrilled and thrown, smiling old smiles. Feelings I thought I had left behind were unfurling in me.

I do not know what The Suburbs will be, with its hundred cooks in the kitchen; nor what this band will sound like on an arena's wide, clear sound system. I know just that I went to an exceptional show on Friday night, by a group called Arcade Fire. They had unearthed treasure chests. I'm grateful.

[see Arcade Fire on tour / pre-order The Suburbs]

Connan Mockasin - "It's Choade My Dear". Like a slow jam for martians, tentacles carressing pustules, scarlet red and mint green. A Pink Floyd album rotates in another room, atop an off-balance record player. Vapours waft. The evening tastes of midnight, ice chips and tin. [buy this amazing, spectral record - thanks steve]

Birdie Hilltop - "Rosalia". If you record a song and then play it back, and then record this playing-back, and so on, and so forth, a hundred times, you begin to hear the room itself - its echoes, resonances, ringings. This was the principle of Alvin Lucier's "I Am Sitting In A Room" and this YouTube mimic. What Birdie Hilltop have done is to record a soft song and then replay it. And then perhaps they recorded it and replayed it one more time, or twice more. That was all. They did not transform this into a grotesque, a blur of ghosts. But they left space for the resonances and ringings: the dance of a voice around a room, the long trail of a whistled tune. [buy]

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Vastly grateful to all those who have donated to our funding drive so far.

(photo source)