Nigel Overreacts Again

   First, Pavement is reuniting next year. Oh shit. I don't know what to say. For some reason I want to hide even though I'm inexplicably happy and shocked and yet not shocked and then a little underwhelmed when I think of the reality of it. But what if they went into the studio? Oh shit oh shit oh shit. What the fuck am I going to do when I live in a world where Pavement is back together?

   Ok, second, anyone who hasn't read this or this, should if you're into that sort of thing. Nitsuh Adebe's passing glance at 'indie culture' is spot-on for the most part and Anna's addendum takes the debate out of the aesthetic ether and brings it into the real personal-political realm in which we live, and where most of these questions of good vs bad, twee vs hardcore, inde-cred vs indie-tastic are banged out. I had the privilege of knowing Anna during her indie years, making this an even more interesting topic. Because it's both a story about zeitgeist and personal histories.
   Everyone agrees that things have changed since those oh so distant pre 9/11 days where independent and mainstream music sat confortably on either side of the aisle. The change has been pretty massive, but it's happened rather subtle. Or maybe rather, in a herky-jerky and uneven fashion, leaving a pretty fractured music world in it's wake. Fractured, but also indelibly connected and intertextual, if I want to get all faux-academic, which I definitely do for god knows why. This is where I break from Nitsuh's argurment: that there are two warring factions. I know it's a streamlined thesis, a simple way of looking at a complex thing for a certain ease of discussion and summation. And suprisingly, he's on point. He's got a good point about indie having been a pretty uncomplicated term in England for a while. He also nails the early aughts desperate desire for propulsive and snappy guitar rock. It's easy to forget what life was like before the Strokes and the White Stripes. Which leads me to another pet project of mine: Although we think all indie roads lead back to Pavement, most roads probably lead back to the Strokes. More on that in some other post. But yes, a bunch of stylish rich kids on a major label living an impossible New York fantasy life kicked open the doors to a lot of minds. Lame but true, and also not totally lame.
   Which brings me to another much larger pastime of mine: bitching about New York. I think my major objection to Nitsuh's article is that he never mentions New York, let alone does he bitch about it. And bitching about New York or defending it has been a major topic of discussion this decade, so let's talk about it. New York has an unimpeachable music history, by far a towering meccah of cultural importance. But as many have pointed out so elequontly, New York doesn't exist anymore. That is, it is not a real place. Follow me here, CBGB's is a fashion outlet. The Village, Chelsea, SoHo, the Bowery, all impossibly priced and razed beyond recognition. Surely, history has not been totally scrubbed from the streets, but the narrative that starts there is dead, killed by gentrification or co-option or what have you. Totally inarguably dead. Brooklyn is maybe a place, but I have my doubts. Becuase I don't understand how it works. Does everyone's parent's pay their rent? Is there a 1:1 ratio of practice spaces to apartments? Does anyone have a real job? I ask these questions because from everything I see or hear, from the New York times to Pfork, Marnie Stern, to the lyrical content of Brooklyn bands themselves paints Brooklyn as fantasy world where everything and everyone is creative, vibrant, well dressed, in a band, an artist, a cloumnist, a dj, between 18 and 30. Whatever Brooklyn does is lapped up, documented, dissected, worried about, and praised. Like, this is where America's precocious navel gazing children go for life camp, and the media are their collective overbearing and exuberant parent's who force us to weigh in on every accomplishment and mishap. And the Times piece on the hipster paunch must be the watershed moment that forces a mea culpa on behalf of the media. Shit has to stop. Right? Homework assignment, someone tally up the Best New Music picks from the last two years, and see what percentage of the Americans are from New York. I took a passing glance, and it looks devastating.
   I'm not saying that New Yorker's aren't talented. Not at all, and the fact that Brooklyn's hegemony is so pervasive, just means bands will flock there, widening the pool of good music. But, there remains a serious lack of real life coming from Brooklyn. That is, most of these bands are deficient in speaking to any of the experiences of most of their fans. Either too vague and cryptic, or too ironic and overly clever.
   But enough about New York. Back to real life.
Let's talk about how we come into contact with new music these days. The Internet is the short answer, a longer answer would probably include our friends tastes, pitchfork, the New York Times, NPR, CW shows, Ipod commercials, blogs, etc. We can talk about the death of print music criticism, the dying music industry, obsolete physical medium, leaks and piracy. But what about the subtle personal shifts?
   When I was in high school, I had what is called an opinion leader, and his name was Andrew. By opinion leader, I don't mean that he made the opinions for his peer group, but he was the central source of information about music for a handful of his friends. Not only because he had good taste and intelligence, but also because he had a high speed internet connection, access to a credit card for online puchases, and a CD burner, all things I did not. I was what is called a low end technology user. A funny thing happened after I got my own computer and credit card and went to college, the balance of information and debate shifted. I had my own concurrent stream of new music and information, and began to stake out my own cultural individuality.
   I mention this because I think it's a nice little microcosm of the shift in the influence of music in social exchange. Andrew was like a record store clerk. He heard everything before you did, had access to albums you didn't, and his own opinions about what was good and bad. But like any record store owner, he was also curator to his friends and spread the gospel of good music, new and old. This was the story for a lot of kids interacting with music. There was a record store, an older brother, a cool friend, that girl you were interested in, etc. These people still exist for sure, and there will always be the guy or girl who just cares a little bit more than you, who will be more up to date. But access is more or less equal to all. This matters because it helps to obliterate time and place and the cognitive space of music culture. As Andrew deftly pointed out when talking about local music scenes, it's just as easy to have a scuzzy Philly noise rocker that actually lives in Minnesota as it is to have the Philly scene. Ok, Andrew I butchered your quote, sorry. But it's a good point.
   This is how Brooklyn exists in the minds of millions who have never been but dream about it. It is possibly even more real online and in our (my) fantasies than in physical space. Which makes the development of a local scene easier in one way, the fact that you can connect quickly and easily, and harder because why stick around your shitty town when urban escape fantasies abound. I know that people have always flocked to New York to make it. The difference now is that fantasy world is so reinforced by ubiquitous media, so much of it uncritical of the indie lifestyle, that anything outside of it irrelevant. There are exceptionms, but have you noticed how much these other scenes look identical to each other? What does this mean for independent music as a whole? Will kids chase the fantasy of bohemia and make the music of their heroes, or will they dig their heels in and say, this is where I am, this is who I am, enough with the bullshit?
   Nitsuh brings up another good point: what's at stake in taking a critical stance on an album or band. This has always been a part of the hipper than thou indie culture. But now, it's not just about taste, it's personal, it's political. You like Pains at Being Pure at Heart, fuck you, you're ruining music! You like the Black Lips, no you don't, not really, you don't actually listen to their records, fuck you, no one does. On one hand, as I get older I have the firm sense that I can listen to whatever the fuck I want more or less unapologetically.    And under the weird big tent-The Animal Collective, Deerhunter, Dan Deacon, No Age tent-this sentiment is the norm. You can like whatever, that's cool. As long as we're all cool about it, and politics of fame or influence aren't involved. But the problem is, those politics are omnipresent on the web, and to some extent, in real life.
   Consider Nathan Williams and his crimes. His biggest crime wasn't being an ass onstage, his biggest crime was being anointed by the hype-machine and not being genuflect about it. I don't mean to drag this episode out again, but I think it was one of the most interesting events this year. The scuzzy noisy rock guys (Psychedelic Horseshit, Black Lips) attacked him because he's a little spoilt bitch who can't handle his drugs. I also imagine a lot of those nice polite indie fans hated him for being such a rude little punk. And of all people, he would be the ideal mixture of the two camps Nitsuh talks about. Scuzzy, gruff, loud, noisy, on an honest to god inependent label(s), but also pop-accessible, popular, young and sorta attractive, sorta awkward. But instead, he was a mixture of the things both sides hated (so it seems), the unearned popularity, the self entitlement, the hipper than thou stance, the lack of technical proficiency, the hot chicks dancing absentmindedly at his show. And this is where I posit that the Nathan Williams Daytripping episode and subsequent breakdown (they are inseparable in my mind) act a cogent characterization of the indie world at that moment. Everything's there: the shit hot label showcase at SXSW, the hype, the token weird band from Philly with token unkempt hair that you're supposed to like, the burgeoning alcoholism, overly earnest MTV interviews, the vampirical bloggers, the insidious consumerism no one really seems to mind anymore, the awkward hip-hop fandom (and let's be honest, cool as it is, it's fucking awkward as all get out, just look at Jay-Z swaying to Grizzly Bear, awesome and awkward, which is I guess, what indie rock always kinda was).
   I watch this all and I think, this is real, this is what's really happening! The Smell, Todd P, Brooklyn, Baltimore, 'Loft Pop' are all real yes, but only for those who are actually there. For the rest of us in flyover country, they remain a distant fantasy. And yet something about the Kafkaesque spectacle of Nathan Williams failing to graciously navigate the unreal world of indie-rock hype strikes me as the unseen unheard underbelly to all this. He's was at the center of the disgusting circus, and just his ability to make people feel weird is admirable. That is, the argument about what's wrong with Wavves inevitably leads back to the argument about what's wrong with the music world that spawned him, and that's why I keep coming back to it. Also, god it's fun to talk about at parties.
   I think it's interesting that Anna has been pushed away from indie and towards Hip-Hop. Interesting because I've had my own initiation into Hip-Hop love and fascination. Interesting because lyrically speaking, Diamond District's In the Ruff has been the most relevant album I've heard (well, at least a tie with Merriweather Post Pavillion, which doesn't count cuz it's big and universal and stuff). And it hit's me that it's no longer hip-hop tourism anymore, and I feel oddly a participant. Oddly, because I know I'm outside the world of hip-hop fans and even further from street life. Then again, maybe not. I dunno. Maybe it's just a bit closer to my life than the aesthetic aloofness, niceness, and/or genre exercises of indie music.

End of Year List

Atlas Sound Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel
Atlas Sound is Deerhunter ingénue Bradford Cox’s solo moniker he’s previously used for releasing vinyl-only tape collages on scattered small labels. (Yes, I bought all of them I could find). Here, Cox turns to tighter song structures and a clearer lyrical narrative. These songs are alternately delicate and fucked up, many times both at once. That is to say, perfect for winter. Cox also used my favorite recording program, Ableton Live (see below), which makes me believe we should be best friends in real life. Also, Cox is a really nice guy. I met him before his show at the Empty Bottle, and he offered me a copy of his album for free before his tour manager told him he shouldn’t.

No Age Nouns
I was casually interested in No Age until I saw them open for Liars. They blew me and everyone else away. I lost my shit and ended up doing several embarrassing fifteen year old things like pogo-ing, screaming “I love you” and “play it fucking loud,” and playing air-guitar, then Randall’s guitar as it was passed around the audience. In my defense, this is the only accurate response to a No Age show. I mean, I wonder what they said to each other after recording Brain Burner? Did they say, “Oh that was nice, let’s take a break,” or did they high five each other mid-air while jumping of Randall’s amp and screaming “FUCK YESSS!!!!” Totally rad album, totally rad guys (and I thank them for reintroducing rad to my lexicon). Also really nice guys. I got to see them after Pitchfork at somebody’s basement. Indescribable.

Jay Reatard Blood Visions, Singles 06-07, Singles 08
Like No Age’s dark counterpoint, Jay Reatard writes abrasive, tight, loud, poppy, and deceptively simple songs at a rate of about two per hour. He’s also known for punching wayward stage climbing fans with no remorse, and sticking a flower up his ass in an impromptu set with King khan. I shouldn’t like this guy. Maybe it’s because he’s of the few people who actually deserve comparisons to early Wire records. Maybe because he’s lead to my discovery of Kiwi-pop (also, below)? Or maybe because getting punched by this guy might actually feel as good as getting pummeled by his live set? Who knows? Who cares? "Puppet Man, lets go!”

King Khan and the Shrines The Supreme Genius of King Khan and the Shrines
A total surprise to me. I’d heard about King Khan, but was generally disinterested. I didn’t think I’d have time for some kind of garage-funk hybrid at this point in my life. His live show at P-fest won me over. I think it won everyone over, as he got us all to burn and rip up dollar bills (creating a ripple effect still being felt in the money markets, I’m sure) like cult members. King Khan is what’s been missing from independent—no, all pop music for along time. He’s a consummate performer, excellent band leader, bat-shit insane guru, and all around charmer. Also, Welfare Bread is a great anthem for the Great Depression part II.

Deerhunter Weird Era Cont.
I’m not just being a dick by listing the bonus CD from Microcastle, I just though Microcastle was underwhelming. A few great songs, some boring ones, a couple of medium ones, over. I can’t complain because Bradford Cox is a prolific man, and I’ve rarely been let down. Weird Era makes up for every weakpoint on Microcastle with amazing songs that should have been part of the album proper (its version of Calgary Scars should have been on the album). Best one is Vox Celeste, in which Deerhunter finally nails My Bloody Valentine, and does it one better.

Women Women
Recommended to me by the always reliable Liz and Lance from Permanent Records. This album is exactly what I wish I could make. A lo-fi album that is messy, tight, tuneful, abrasive, succinct and sprawling. It’s a remix of my favorite elements from No Age, and possibly better. I’m still diving headlong into this album, but unlike most of the albums listed, I’ve gotten everyone else in the apartment onboard. Listen to Shaking Hand and then buy the album.

The Chills, The Verlaines, Flying Nun Records
Apparently, early 1980’s New Zealand was the best place to find melodic pop bands. Flying Nun records documented what came to be known as the Dunedin Sound, a collection of talented bands hovering around Dunedin including The Chills, The Verlaines, and the Clean. I became briefly obsessed with the Chills after listening to Pink Frost. And the Verlaines wrote my new favorite pop chorus in Death and the Maiden. So good I played an unrehearsed and ill advised cover of the song just because I wanted to sing it.

Of Montreal Skeletal Lamping
Completely underrated. At first, this album seems less confessional than Hissing Fauna, and a lot of people are put off by Kevin Barnes’ black transvestite alter ego. It’s indulgent, but it’s also frequently brilliant. Very gutsy, and rewarding after repeated listening. An Eluardian Instance is a heartbreaking coded love letter to his wife, which is especially rewarding to fans who followed his story thus far.

Bertolt Brecht/Kurt Weil Threepenny Opera
I had the pleasure of working on the Hypocrites production of 3penny at the Steppenwolf. During which Joe and I finally got “really into” Kurt Weil and the nonstop hits in this show. Just perfect, and way more influential than I ever realized. Most Fav, Jealousy Duet.

New Pornographers Execution Day
“ON THIS DAAAAYYYY….”

Ableton Live, PSP Vintage Warmer, Abby Road 14213
Ableton Live is the best recording software ever made, primarily because it’s made to make music, not just record it. Once you learn the program, it stay’s out of your way and has a massive arsenal of easy to use plug-ins. But to really get it right, I needed PSP Vintage Warmer and Abby road 14213 plug-ins. These are modeled after famous solid state vintage gear, the second modeled specifically after the compressors found in the EMI desks at Abby Road and used on the later Beatles albums. Also, giving these plugins nicknames will make you feel less lonely after completely imploding into total geekdom. But seriously, these are golden and indispensable.

Music Ben Listens To
Despite my ravenous internet seeking, name dropping, and talking about that No Age show where I almost met Avey Tare, Ben will always find away to one up me. This year, he introduced me to some of the best psychedelia ever recorded, made me respect post Modern Lovers Jonathon Richmond, and left my Dylan love in the dust as he plunged into the near unlistenable Self Portrait with Ethan.

Music Ben has Recorded
Well actually, I recorded some of it and played bass on some of it, so…
Seriously though, there is going to be a songwriting arms race as our gear buying arms race has grinded to a halt. And Ben is winning so far.

Ethan Heil
For buying the sickest amp, for being the most rock and roll, for his smart ass opinions, and for putting up with me for two years in a row.

Ben and Ethan getting into Spoon
HA!

Jazz at the Skylark, Open Mic Nights at Bernice's tavern
Just two reasons why where I live is cooler than where you live.

p-fest rebuttle

Any mixed feelings I may have had about Pitchfork or Chicago have been totally wiped away after Saturday. Atlas Sound, No Age, Animal Collective, all excellent sets. And to the band who hosted the No Age after party show, who's name unfortunately slipped my inebriated and heat-stroked brain, thank you.

I have some shaky cell phone pictures to post later. For now, some festival inspired pieces made with ableton. Or dedicated to the festival, as they were made a while ago. The first one makes a nice ringtone.

6-6

Festival

My apologies for long winded criticisms of Chicago.

P-fest

Pitchfork is coming to town, and I feel like the only boy I know who's still excited. I know I'm not alone, considering Saturday is sold out. And even the detractors are still somewhat enthused. It is Pitchfork, and the festival has established a firm reputation as a good time to be had by all (unless, you're the GZA last year).

I have a couple friends who always used to be two steps ahead of me in their record collection (playlists, sure) who seem to be lost recently. And I suppose I can't blame them. This year's lineup features so many names that would have been totally unrecognizable this time last year. Which I consider to be a good thing, a very good sign for the state of independent music. And dare i say it, an identifiable 'movement'? I suppose not.

It is safe to say that noise is back firmly into the musical lexicon. And noise as in noise music per se, but the shoegaze noise, the band that is loud and not incredibly tight and or well produced noise. Which is refreshing to hear after years of taught, angular music, dance music, free/freak/neo folk, and indie stardom. Artists like No Age, Deerhunter, Panda Bear, Animal Collective, and HEALTH have a very similar aesthetic although working with different ideas towards different goals.

My friend Andrew said that African is the new angular. And as far as Vampire Weekend goes, I guess they stand outside of the noisy trend. And whatever about hype and fame, they deserve the attention they get, even if they will be forgotten in the near future.

Either way, I feel like music has become a little rougher around the edges, and thanks for that.

And Mahjongg, thank god a Chicago band is on the bill. Pitchfork can sometimes be a mixture of pride and embarrassment for someone living in Chicago. Pride in being the host, pride in being a major hub for independent music, pride in our venues and labels and history. But, then a sense that there's something missing from the fest, Chicago bands.

There are definitely some incredible bands from the area that exist today, and a long artists from the cities history. But looking at places like Montreal, New York, Portland, Atlanta, L.A., Baltimore, it's hard to hold up the Chicago scene against them. I welcome angry responses from people defending our scene of non-scene, but I know I'm not alone in this.

One of the problems seems to be a very fractured music community. There's a big jazz/experimental scene, a noise scene, drone scene, psychedelic revival scene, punk revival scene, the never dying power-pop band thing, a growing number of excellent hip-hop acts, the also never dying folk/roots scene. And, what am I bitching about right? The problem isn't a lack of talent or opportunity. The problem is (and maybe this is only a problem, in theory, in my brain, for whatever selfish reasons) that they don't seem to be communicating with each other. At all. Even counting the alliances and shared friends between these groups, I don't see them informing each other. And that's the hope of a musical scene, or discernible movement. It's not that everyone is on the same page, or doing the same thing, or going to the same shows. It's the hope that by proximity, these disparate elements could inform each other.

Proximity magazine is a new arts glossy for the Chicago area that seems to recognize this hope. And reading through it, I could see an attempt to bring together the visual arts community in Chicago for the same reasons I want a more interactive musical community. The potential is there.

I'm falling into the second city mindset, I know it.

So, in light of that, here's to Mahjongg, and the hope that they make us all proud. There certainly a band to be proud about. A band that combines some of the best aspects of Chicago music, pretty effortlessly, while remaining entirely singular. And they're (psychogeographically, if not actually geographically) southsiders, which makes me proud.

Here's to good music, here's to Chicago, here's to summer.

The Liars+No Age=Ear Ringing Bliss

Wow. Some shows are jaw-dropping, eye-watering, ear bleeding good. This is one of those shows. First, Aleks and the Drummer was a total surprise, I'm glad to have bands this good in Chicago. I hope to see them again soon.
No Age ripped through their set and I was again blown away that just two people could put on such a great show. I had very high expectations for them, and they blew me away. From the first song, I just lost my shit like I was fifteen at my friends basement show.
And the Liars are the Liars, back injuries or not. They were almost as unstoppable as their performance at pitchfork fest two years ago. By far one of the best shows I've ever seen.

While waiting at the Metro I struck up a conversation with two new friends about the Chicago music scene, and the experience we've had at shows in the city. I'd been to the Metro at least a dozen times since moving here for school. It's a fantastic venue with a long impressive history and probably the best sound for a venue its size.
However, the staff is notoriously awful and even as a 21 year old, they never fail to make me feel like criminals. And at this show, a Tuesday night where everyone there had slushed through sleet and hail to get there, I don't think they were going to have a problem with any of us.

We all agreed that crowds there have a tendency to be stiff and inanimate. Admittedly, I've stood there with my arms crossed when I first moved to the city and thought that was the appropriate thing to do. But when a band like No Age plays an incredible set, there doesn't seem anything else to do but freak out and enjoy. C'mon kids, be hospitable. Show them Chicago isn't full of boring fucktards and aspiring hipster statues.

Also, Randy was showing some love for Corey Rusk and Touch and Go, and the crowd didn't seem to know what he was talking about. Which is pretty ridiculous considering this is CHICAGO and T&G isn't some obscure fetish label. It'd be like playing a show in Olympia and asking about Kill Rock Stars or Bikini Kill and getting blank stares. This happened when Broken Social Scene played the Metro and Kevin was talking about Tortoise and Shellac to no response. He replied "What, you people don't buy records?"

Well for those of us that do, thank you for the props. We're proud of our bands as well. +2 to Aleks and the Drummer for holding there own in an excellent bill.