I'm back! and so are the tindersticks!

o, you assholes. did you even notice we were gone?

somehow, I skipped straight from julian lennon's valotte to bon jovi's slippery when wet--though in hindsight, maybe not such a far leap after all. which the doors opened to all sorts of aquanet-sustained musical adventures. and then! 1987's appetite for destruction, which changed my life. but that's another story.

the point being there was a time when I cared that they replaced adam curry with riki rachtman. that's all.

before there was john

there was julian


Julian Lennon, Too Late for Goodbyes. Valotte

my first obsession. I used to carry around the lyrics of this song in my big google-eyed kitty backpack. and call up michelle vatcher any time either of us heard this song on the radio. it really made the third grade for me.

Black Mountain

I used to have this little worn post-it stuck onto my desk at the office:
I used to Black Mountain
I used to Pink Mountaintops
I used to JagJaguwar
written on it in red ink, courtesy of a conversation I’d had with PB and meant to follow up on for years. I picked up Black Mountain’s debut LP, and listened, liked, and shelved it, for whatever reasons.

Then I got In the Future as a gift as a prelude to seeing them last week at Johnny Brenda’s. And! And!

It’s been three years since their debut album, and in the meantime, they’ve developed a definite bluesier, harder edge, making them less raw, but in a good we’ve-been-practicing sort of way. There is something dirtier, bleaker in what they have to say and how they say it now. “C’mon, let your halo down” opens up Angels with a tiredness that makes you remember the Doors more than the early Sabbath that everyone wants to compare them to. Although you can hear the Geezer Butler-esque heavy basslines throughout, and the intro to Stormy High is practically a tribute to Tommy Iommi, there’re echoes of the Robby Krieger/Ray Manzarek combo that keep it smarter.

At times, like throughout most of Wucan, the composition of the instruments and vocals is absolutely mesmerizing. And the play with syllable arrangements, “no, you don’t ever want to get some place where you cannot believe” against the rise and fall of the melody is clever enough you can forgive some of the spottier parts where the keyboards (3.01-3.54, for example) begin to degrade into synth-rock.

There’s a lot said about the Stephen McBean + Amber Webber dual vocals, but the real driving force is the drum and bass interplay—the intro combination in Tyrants is by far the most memorable 90 seconds in the album. It’s that heavy double-fisted drumming that pushes the album away from veering into some serious Pink Floyd territory (soft keyboard trills starting 2.54 into Queens Will Play, for example), although it was altogether much less so during the live show.

For better or worse, Stephen McBean’s voice sometimes gets a little too whiny and thin, especially in Evil Ways, which starts out so strong with the drum and keyboard entry, you wish it could’ve gone on a bit longer without interruption. He’s an indie-rocker stepping into the flannels and beard of Jim Morrison, and here and there, it shows.

There’s also something slightly PULP-y about this as well, like moments in the intro to Wild Wind, where it sounds like when Jarvis Cocker and Russell Senior would build up these blues-y early-in-the-morning-walk-back-home sort of rambles. And yes, I did sort of have a crush on the drummer, who looked like Trent Reznor back when he was thin and cute.

I know it’s early, but this is definitely in my Top 10 of 2008.

White Williams

I went to see white williams at johnny brenda’s on the 9th (Forgoing, if I may add, an opportunity to see gene loves jezebel at the khyber. The things one does for compromise. of course, it was the bad twin version of the band, so I have to own that it wasn’t the greatest sacrifice).

ecstatic sunshine and rings opened up for him, but we were late to one, and I had a ralf-attack (part of the could-be-bacterial-meningitis bout) during the other, and so all I can report on is white williams himself.

I was a bit delirious and so don’t remember much beyond the swirling red and green lights of johnny brenda’s but I have a clear image of the little alien creature, dance-singing on stage, flanked by an emo synth-dude on one side and another such dude kneeling on the floor, worshipping his little ipod with a steady headbang.

I’m listening to the album now, and it’s steady good. neo new wave with all the proper nods to bowie, eno, bolan. headlines is the clear side a single, with new violence taking the b side slot. meaning, of course, that new violence is the better song.

a little too twee at times; I don’t understand why everyone is so blown away by the remake of I Want Candy, which was sort of a blip the first time around. but when it’s not too clever, it’s clever. and a steady entry into my Top 10 of 2008.

Dedication

Well you can stay all night if you want to
You can hang out with all of his friends
You can go and meet his mother and father
Mmmm, you better make sure that's where it ends
'Cos baby, there's one thing that you gotta know:

Let him read your palm and guess your sign
Let him take you home and treat you fine
But baby, don't let him waste your time.
Don't let him waste your time

'Cos the years fly by in an instant
And you wonder what he's waiting for...
...So tell him that it's now or never
And then go go go go go

He can have his space and he can take his time
He can kiss you where the sun don't shine
But baby, don't let him waste your time.

Just don't let him waste your time.

--Jarvis Cocker, Don't let him waste your time

ghastly city sleep

in the summer of 2007, I heard about a band in greenpoint, brooklyn who were made up of the old members of city of caterpillar, gregor samsa and kayo dot. they were doing a show, but for some reason (crap job!) I wasn’t able to make it. months later, I saw this album in the bin at amoeba, and bought it. mostly for its cover:

GCS’s debut album, released on robotic empire in October 2007:

9.06 ice creaks
5.41 hushing weight
8.55 suchness
5.44 subtle disaster

the first track, ice creaks, plays like a lullaby, with such a slow start that it’s a minute in before you realize what’s going on. but it builds, and at 7.15, there is an instrumental break where you are forced to realize the fever and pitch it’s climbed to. the interval from 7.29 through 8.24 alone makes the album worthwhile—you can really hear kayo dot in there.

from then on, it’s mostly pretty sounds broken apart at sleepy intervals. although suchness showcases a simply entry that is pitch perfect, and sustained for almost a full minute without losing interest. it’s unfortunate that the rest of the 9 minutes can’t say the same, but that’s a lot to ask, in the end.

this is the kind of album that people will love to call “haunting” but that’s a meaningless descriptor slapped on to anything with a hint of non-melody. it’s a good cd to fall asleep to, though, sort of white noise with less ordered regularity. slightly assonant turns of sound, like raindrops on a skin drum; hollow and thinly percussive. sigur rós with slightly more bite. it’s the darker elements what define it—rich bass drums and echo chambers. the word “oceanic” is used a lot too, but that applies, because it does sound like an ocean of noise. each of the four members of gcs sing and play several instruments throughout the tracks, and it is this non-focus on any one element for very long that allows the thoughts to stream on for so long.

so, I guess what I'm saying is, it's good. but no need to buy it. ask me and I'll burn you a copy. or, maybe, buy it, because they are a local band and need you to buy things from them. but really, don't buy it and they will be forced to produce better music which you should really be spending your money on.