Back Off

So Nathan Williams is pulling out of Europe with his tail between his legs (one assumes) and the the future of WAVVES and of angry bloggers worldwide is cast back into the unknown.

I've been trying to write a response to this for days, but can't keep up with the unfolding events. I was going to (did) write a rambling defense of Mr. Williams against the deluge of shit talking and Schadenfreude that has been coming his way since Pitchfork founder Ryan Schrieber threw him under a bus and turned a Best New Music act into a whipping boy overnight. And since I have no idea what will happen in the next couple of hours, I'll try to do this while I have the chance...

If you haven't heard of Williams or his noisemaking project, WAVVES, then you probably don't read online music criticism because the internetz has been all a tizzy over him since his album got the blessing/curse of Best New Music. Wavves is the latest in a new crop of Pitchfork lauded “lo-fi” acts that have been polarizing fans and critics and stirring up all form of undeserved praise and ire with only a passing listen. For many, this 'meltdown' wasn't the first questionable move young Nathan has made in his months old career. There's a hilarious daytripping episode where he gets piss drunk and pretty much deflates the gaudy spectacle of SXSW. Some saw it as a portrait of a self important prick. I like to see it as the only reasonable response a young man could have to endless free beer, gushing praise, vampirical bloggers, and nonstop performances. And, if you have even a cursory understanding of his music, it should be no fucking surprise.

You see, Wavves makes noisy melodic punk rock, a kind of bastard throw everything on the wall and see what sticks music that takes up every bit of sonic space in a swirling mess that is (admittedly) hit or miss. I mostly like it. It's indulgent, it's at times annoying, and it never hints at any amount of technical ability. But it is made with urgency and and a certain kind of honesty. Not the bullshit honesty of someone who hunts for days on ebay for a cassette four track so he can sound like Robert Pollard. He doesn't push the boundaries of music, nor does he faithfully pay tribute to any one tradition. It's a mix of Williams' musical interests, a mix that isn't revolutionary, but isn't tasteless. And it isn't a bit pretentious either, which is where he get's himself into trouble.

Something has happened in the last couple of years in the independent music world. Something has developed amongst Pitchfork's cultural ascendancy, web 2.0, American Apparel, Stereogum, and the countless cultural signposts that have sprung up since say 2003. The independent music world, and 'indie-culture' has grown into a half defined, half praised, half maligned, sorta movement, sorta thing. That is, there is a HUGE amount of cultural baggage that wasn't there before. Back in the good old days, hipster culture could be pretty well explained by High Fidelity, or maybe a Yo La Tengo album. Now, the lines have been blurred. The sense of otherness and alienation in response to mainstream culture has disintegrated because, where is mainstream culture anyway? Hipsters are sitting on a good portion of it now, and it's made a lot of people feel uncomfortable to say the least.

And this is all a completely silly thing to talk about, isn't it? But, consider Nathan Williams. What king of hipster is he? Is he the well dressed American Apparel cultural tourist? Is he the laid back west coast vegan alterna-kid Believer? Is he the more-obscure-than-thou contrarian? A member of the Brooklyn trust fund elite? These questions are never asked straight out, but almost everyone weighing in on the situation has an answer. And I think, this is where a lot of the hatred and the instant backlash come from. New artists who debut with a Best New Music approval have to submit to this ritual, this is nothing new. His breakdown only provides living proof to his instant detractors that he's not up to the task.

Here's the rub: he didn't ask for this. I'm sure he was probably glad to have the press, the hype, the festival invitations, the good reviews. But only up to a point. He seemed pretty weary already when his Daytripping episode was filmed, and I can see why. Not one person seemed to care all that much about him or his music, but rather the aura of fleeting fame buzzing around him. Everyone seemed incredibly disappointed when the guy who made scuzzy stoner punk rock, was actually a scuzzy stoner punk.

People are disappointed in his shows because he's unprofessional. Well where the fuck did you get the idea that he was a professional? He has almost no touring experience. He's just a dude who recorded some sweet songs at home alone. He has had almost no time to gather a band to do justice to his recordings, so he paired down to what he could manage. It still sounds fun. And maybe he doesn't deserve the praise or the attention, but he's not exactly reveling in it. He's not demanding it either.

I'm sorry that he doesn't come fully packaged with a fully formed sound and look, ala Vivian Girls, Crystal Stilts, or the Pains of Being a Laboriously Long and Stupid Band Name. I'm sorry he's not posturing well enough. What, did the sunglasses, skate shoes, and vaguely hip hop baseball hat throw you? Here's a clue, he's from California, he skates, and he fucking loves hip hop.

Maybe people just don't want to hear about him anymore. Maybe he is just too pedestrian, too amateur, too much just a fucked up kid. But that's what I like about him. No, I don't want him to stay a fucked up kid, and I'm glad he issued that apology. I hope he gets his shit together and pulls throw this mess. I hope he develops as an artist, continues following his interests, and develops as a live act. But I hope he doesn't feel the need to submit to the wills of critics or anyone else who doesn't give a shit about him or his music.

I know I'm throwing a bunch of shit into this that may not belong. I know I'm defending someone who on the surface probably resembles Asher Roth more than I'm willing to admit. I know, I know, I know...

Just cut the kid some fucking slack, he's not the problem with music today, not by a long shot.

Thanks no No Trivia for this.

While on the subject of videos featuring text-printed t-shirts

Just a fantastic song. Thanks, David Drake.

Diamond District

Not much of a post, but I wanted everyone to check this out.



The whole album is being freely distributed via torrent sites. I don't know if they have plans to press this up, but they should. Download it here

FAIL

There is a man named Asher Roth, and I lived in a much happier world before I knew of his existence.

Exhibit A

Ok, so you say, it’s all in good fun. Too easy to hate on. Too much a whorish and tacky affair to take seriously. And, there’s a sense of humor here. But, exhibit B:




Not the best thing to be said over “A Milli,” not the most intelligent or even clever critique, but it is scathing. It is rewarding in some way.

I’m not going headlong into the delicate subjects of race, privilege, fame, and success in Hip Hop. Just because I’ve been catching up on Dilla, Madlib, and DOOM doesn’t mean I can throw my weight around like I’ve been invested in the genre long enough. But a piece of shit is a piece of shit. That’s all fine as long as a piece of shit doesn’t become this year’s frat rock party jam, and the panting and desperate record industry descends upon us with it in their talons.

Ash could have made anything out of himself. He is an internet phenom, riding on the success of marginally impressive mixtapes. He could have picked used his minor wave of hype and step up and refine the humor and critique of his A Milli freestyle. The fixation on minutiae, conversational delivery, reminds me of Mike Skinner, at least for a couple seconds. But now he’s hip-hop’s response to Tucker Max.
The educated, aware, marginally talented young privileged white kid who squanders his talent and makes a clown of himself. He’s someone who realizes how fucked up his situation is, but takes the money and fucking dances. His only solace is that his success proves how vapid his fans and critics are to give him the success and attention. Or more depressingly, the former doesn’t even apply. He has never questioned his actions.

Royksopp - Junior

Bourgeois comfort from Norway. Coming from a particularly abyssmal second album "the (mis)understanding" (which was so saturated with the sweatstains of Ibiza it could barely warrent a second listen) Royksopp come up with an entirely different strategy: to make music for those of us who never stopped listening to early Air albums and think the Avalanches are still cool. And you know what? It works like a charm. Good electronic music that is not meant to be danced to has been few and far between. Sure theres been a few since the turn of the millenium who fulfill a similar role, such as Ratatat or J Dilla, but its just not same. Sure this kind of music could easily be heard in car commercials or pretentious chic restaurants, but just because the ad agencies and boutique entrepeneurs of this world are poaching this music left and right doesn't mean that these modest sweedish lads are actually angling for it (the way moby does, although he'd be the first to deny it). And even if they were, the temporary thrill of putting on some imaginary white leather ankle boots and being a european fashionista for just 40 minutes at home is far better than actually being one. Well worth the price of momentary bourgeois comprimise.

Women (Bottom Lounge 3/17/09)

The hitherto mysterious group of Canadians who turned in one of my surprise favorite albums of last year dropped by last night to deliver a show that ranks as one of the best I've seen in a long time. These guys ("four obvious douchebags") tore through their set, delivering their washed out blurry sound with well honed precision and intensity. I expected their carefully crafted aesthetic to suffer in a live setting, but it only benefited. This band is a tight unit. Despite their affable shyness and jokes about being unprofessional, they play like they've been touring their whole lives. "Black Rice" was light and airy, prompting members of the audience to sing along with their eyes closed. "Shaking Hand" was every bit the thrill ride it was on the record, and when the barnstorming breakdown hit, I heard a small chorus of 'wow' and 'yesss' and at least one 'don't stop.'

That breakdown is without a doubt one of the most undeniably awesome moments in music history. But what impresses me about it is not that the band pulled it off (and pulls it off live no sweat), it's that it's only one great moment in a record of many great moments. In their set, Women hit on Sonic Youth style dissonant noise fury, blissful MBV feedback crescendos, intricate rhythmic workouts ala Fugazi, and fragile C86 bedroom pop. And never once did it feel disjointed or scattered. And the new songs sound fucking sweet.

Chicago band Thin Hymns was another sweet surprise. I'm at a moment's loss for words to describe them. Really good? Does that work? Some soaring guitar sounds, some fucking incredible drumming, good harmonies. They played a refreshingly varied set, avoiding the common pitfall of opening acts: all your songs sound the same. Thin Hymns played at a level I did not expect, and they should have had a higher slot on the billing. I'll have to see them again.

Why Does Bradford Cox now sound like Julian Casablancas?

Don't Believe Me?

Deerhunter - New Music - More Music Videos

and