John the Savage
Six-piece John the Savage ain’t afraid of no ghosts — the ghastly and sinister are this debut full-length’s bread and butter. From Mexican standoff (“Me & the Warden: Standoff”) to murder ballad (“Ballad of a Killman, pt. XI”), it’s thematically dark, and though the vocals are most often indecipherable wailing, the band’s ability to incarnate stories instrumentally and transport listeners to distinct settings is just genius. In “Sinking Ship,” for example, a near-eight minute epic noisy with trumpet, violin pizzicato, accordion and then some, panic pools at the first sight of leakage, the crew yo-ho-hos like rum-filled pirates and the vessel plunges deeper and faster into oblivion. Similarly, piano-driven “Market Day” vividly recalls art squares of Paris and “Dope-Ass Fade from Jose” could have been just another dinner at Chi-Chi’s had the funk guitar and cowbell not keenly come into play. Their musicality isn’t a fluke — Kitchen Voodoo was largely recorded live to capture the spirit of a John the Savage performance. But within that good idea is vulnerability: all opportunity for nuance is lost. Players are on the same plane, all equally determined to be heard. Under relentless uproar, the arrangements suffer. Why blanket over hard work? Had they explored musical dynamics beyond just “loud,” even more of the band’s competence could have shone through. John the Savage may not be particularly restrained in subject matter or sound, but the year-old band has victoriously created its own genre-bending authenticity. Too many cooks or not, Kitchen Voodoo is still spellbinding. Disagree? A plague of locusts is probably already on the way.
Oct 30th, 2008
Jolie Holland
Things don’t always turn out as they should, but Texasborn singer/songwriter Jolie Holland has no desire to turn life’s lemons into anything but woeful songs. With addiction, depression, and both shattered hearts and dreams rampant, the fine line between dead and alive is often indistinguishable. It’s not ideal listening material for those with suicidal tendencies, but fans of the country-blues will find Holland’s fourth studio release relaxed and fluent. Holland’s warm fiddling on “Sweet Loving Man,” which could play on any smoky small-town bar’s jukebox, makes it a favorite. Though her warbling vocal style borders on annoying when it’s too ambitious (is there a tongue depressor in her mouth?), her whistling on the disc’s two most traditionalsounding folk songs, “You Painted Yourself In” and “Love Henry” is beyond impressive, and could easily be mistaken for singing saw. Portlanders M. Ward and Rachel Blumberg (formerly of the Decemberists) make notable contributions — Ward’s rock-influenced guitar on “Your Big Hands” adds pick-me-up spunk to sad-sack lyrics, and Blumberg’s drumming, particularly on “Corrido Por Buddy” and “Mexico City,” has just enough heft and meter to keep the arrangements from dragging. Dishes clang behind the giggly acoustic cover of “Enjoy Yourself” (“it’s later than you think”), and though it seems like an unnecessary, tack-on closing track, it seals in the admirably pragmatic outlook Holland has been singing about throughout: “I’ll dance at your funeral/if you dance at mine”(“Palmyra”).
Oct 1st, 2008
Emilíana Torrini
Icelandic songstress Emilíana Torrini is not Björk, but she certainly sounds like her. It’s not just her heritage or soprano, but her irreverence and eclecticism, too. Torrini’s voice is quirky and youthful, yet emanates street-smarts, which also brings anti-folk singer Regina Spektor to mind. Unfortunately, Torrini is best known for contributing a track for the Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers ending credits. Not a Peter Jackson fan? Then Torrini has probably already slipped two full-length critically acclaimed releases over your head. Hopefully her third release to the U.S., Me And Armini, will reach an audience beyond geek. To the effect of “Gollum’s Song” from LOTR, “Birds” and “Bleeder” are moody and stunning, but what makes Torrini worth listening to is her affinity for the weird and witchy. Though “Gun” features a riff so close to the O’Jay’s “For the Love of Money” that it sounds like Donald Trump is at the door, its breathy almost-barks and hostile finger snaps carry it and give it edge. Likewise, “Jungle Drum,” a scat about the thrill of new love, and “Ha-Ha,” a scoff at a washed-up former lover, are extravagant originals that make it apparent that Torrini is not in denial about her onomatopoeia obsession. Less extreme opener “Fireheads” and the sexy island-vibe title-track still show Torrini in good form, but “Big Jumps,” which plays like Jack Johnson, is too radio-friendly. If she wants to keep her cred, and comparisons to Björk, Torrini should dial down the pop and keep barking, snapping, scatting and scoffing though her next release.
Sep 1st, 2008
20×20
Photos by Dane Haman Jon Mueller, co-manager of Pecha Kucha in Milwaukee. pecha kucha (n) /puh-CHAH-kuh-chah/ Japanese origin. 1. the art of conversation; 2. noisy chatter; 3. coming August 26 to Milwaukee. Imagine if before facing the auditorium on your big presentation day, you could – without inhibition or shutting your office door – swig from that desk-drawer bourbon flask? Exchange auditorium for watering hole, bourbon swig for beer break and big presentation for a brief one, and what’s left is even better: Pecha Kucha Night (PKN), an idea devised by two Tokyo-based European architects in 2003 that gives the projector + presenter + audience equation a novel twist. Though liquid courage is encouraged, PKN is not about the booze; it’s an opportunity to meet, show ideas to the public, and network — with rules. In other words, “productive socializing,” says Jon Mueller, who teams up with 800-CEO-READ (8cr) colleague Kate Mytty to manage Milwaukee’s only official Pecha Kucha franchise. MEET A bulk bookseller 25 years in the business and division of local independent shop Harry W. Schwartz, 8cr “works directly with business authors to help them customize books, organize events, and write about the current and best ideas in business thought.” Clearly much more than merchant, they also print reviews and essays in their quarterly magazine and feature manifestos for change from diverse, yet optimistic, perspectives on their culturally conscious ChangeThis website. “8cr follows business thought and how it changes people’s lives, and Pecha Kucha follows people’s ideas in action,” says Mueller. “There is really a fine line between the two.” Logically, 8cr and PKN aligned, and Milwaukee is now among a worldwide network of 129 (and growing) participating cities. “The amount of work that’s involved would turn many people away from organizing it,” says Mueller, “but we think it’s an important thing to do and we have a lot of fun with it.” SHOW Trademarked and copyrighted by inventive founding architectural firm Klein Dytham, the Pecha Kucha format requires that all slideshows displayed are a standard “20×20” — 20 slides, programmed to automatically advance after 20 seconds on screen — a style that keeps both the speaker and the audience alert and captivated. Synchronizing flow to a fixed timetable is a challenge that is comfortably limiting. “The simplicity is what makes it really effective,” says Mueller. Do the math and that’s 6 minutes and 40 seconds a pop in PowerPoint heaven. But this brevity “can still become an eternity in the wrong hands,” explains Mueller. “Someone basically giving a six-minute commercial, using nothing but charts and graphs, or other typical business type mumblings, doesn’t do much good in any setting,” Brady Street’s stylish Hi Hat Garage included. “I immediately thought the Garage would be perfect,” says Mueller of the space where PKN #1 was held in June of this year. The space offers A/V equipment, a capacity for 160, and an ambiance that most hotel conference rooms lack. The bar’s owner, Scott Johnson, whom Mueller has known personally […]
Aug 1st, 2008
The Faint
Despite Omaha boys The Faint’s efforts to shock on 2004’s unsubtle Wet from Birth – an overzealous, not-so-scientific take on biology – it was the popularity of a subsequent internet game (allowing haters to drop-kick the dance-punk five piece — for points!) that landed them on the cultural radar. Though the boys have shown strong stomachs in past releases in regards to, say, bodily secretions (“Fish in Womb” satisfies the gross quota here), their fifth full-length’s opener “Get Seduced” draws a clear line of disgust at tabloid mania, where “hot lights” are cast on celebrity hook-ups and cellulite snapshots can turn a pretty penny. Steady single “The Geeks Were Right,” Chopsticks-esque “Mirror Error” and mechanical “A Battle Hymn for Children” concentrate on similar culture-obsessed ground. The first imagines a world dominated by pasty-legged eggheads; the second contemplates face trading (Travolta v. Cage, anyone?); the last satirizes American children’s sense of privilege and their unrestricted access to violent playthings. After beating a few dead horses, The Faint think cross-section and bring focus to relationships and memories. Transforming a tree stump and a 12-foot-plank into a one-way transport to an alternate universe, tightly coiled “Fulcrum and Lever” draws flashbacks to terrifying 80s claymation short Inside Out Boy. “Psycho” (“Forget the words I said/I was not myself/I never really thought you were psycho“) enlists a rock bass-and-drums backbeat to create one pleasurably guilty spree – so guilty, in fact, methinks The Faint doth protest, but still check perezhilton.com as regularly we do.
Aug 1st, 2008
Earlimart
Must a band be loud to be heard? Or exceedingly different to be noticed? Must the middle ground be mediocre? L.A. duo Earlimart’s sixth full-length release, Hymn and Her, a string of twelve easy and modest indie rock songs, has the answer: it’s lovely, for once, not to have to stare directly into the sun of a band’s persona. In fact, lack of personality creates an odd wall of detachment. The lyrics are introspective, but in a distanced philosophical sense, not a messy emotional one. “We’re much more than that/But for now it’s a deathtrap,” bassist Ariana Murray sings of allowing a rocky relationship to breathe on “Before it Gets Better.” It’s wise and cool-headed; the band values breakups and let downs as occasions for personal rediscovery. Thematically, returning “home” is the heart of the disc. The tambourine-pulsed “Logically Follow” is a favorite and the second of three tracks where Murray’s earthy vocals aren’t just harmony. Earlimart’s other half, guitarist Aaron Espinoza, leads the rest, despite a tendency to sound a little sloppy (“For the Birds”) or too much like Elliott Smith (“God Loves You the Best”). But really, that’s nitpicking. The production is subtle and elegant, with piano, organ, and viola intensifying interest and structure throughout. Hymn and Her is ideal for a leisurely, windows-down summer drive, but as the price of gas rises (and given the likely advice of introverts Espinoza and Murray), this release is better suited for winding down with a drink on your living room sofa.
Jul 1st, 2008
The Long Blondes
If Kate Jackson, vocalist and co-songwriter for the Long Blondes, were really the “glamorous punk” she proclaims herself to be, she’d understand that it takes time before an “out” trend can become “in” again. Still, her Sheffield, England-based five-piece insists on reconstituting what Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party did better just a few years ago. Angular post-punk guitars and new-wave synth are go-to on their sophomore release, but Jackson’s voice puts a unique stamp on the boys’-club genre. Her whimper is solid, backed by snarls from bassist Reenie Hollis and keyboardist Emma Chaplin on tracks like “Here Comes the Serious Bit,” a vivacious romp about emotionally listless hookups. But when something more exact is required (“Nostalgia,” “Century”), she wavers. The undeterred Jackson continues to challenge her larynx’s limits on drag-racing, trash can stomp “Round the Hairpin,” but in this instance, risk pays off and compliments the song’s reckless overtones. Driving the album’s relationship concept home, songs about slip-ups in fidelity and perpetually being the third wheel – “Guilt” and “The Couples,” respectively – possess peak pop danceability. Though the Blondes pointedly avoid the autobiographical in their songwriting, taking on perspectives from country bumpkin to jet-setter, they must get out of their heads and be less procedural. The Blondes think they’re clever, they think they’re smart, but they’re “just too clever by half,” says the song titled by those lyrics. Fashion lesson number two for Miz Jackson: the coolest girl in the room is always the most effortless.
Jun 1st, 2008
Tim Fite
Timothy Sullivan ain’t proud of his past life as an MTV “one track” rap wonder, and his work under alias Tim Fite is his attempt at renewal. His free 2007 internet LP, Over the Counter Culture, lashed anger at the state of our hate- and greed-mongering union. Fair Ain’t Fair beelines to the acceptance stage. Opener “Roots of a Tree” insists that we shouldn’t be measured by bygones but by whom we have grown to be. Hippy-dippy sentiment aside, this release isn’t for the faint of heart. An f-bomb drop within seconds of play sets an abrasive tone, but more significantly, since each song is a patchwork of obscure banjo and accordion samples recovered from record store discount bins, the musicality takes patience to comprehend. It’s best to start with the approachable “Yesterday’s Garden,” about a distracted Fite accidentally driving through his girlfriend’s flowerbed. The language is plain and details are omitted, yet a lucid snapshot develops over the course of the record. Outside of literature, these moments are rare, but “Motorcade,” a scene suspended in slow-mo as if ripped from a Wes Anderson film, does it more than once, flecked by toy piano. Tympanis, snares, and other percussion — courtesy of a high school orchestra — on “The Names of All the Animals” and “Rats and Rags” pique interest and help the CD achieve more than just cut and paste. Though “Sing Along” finds Fite back in his old pop politics, he primarily continues to propel forward. “Everyone gets to make one,” he says on “Big Mistake.” If lucky, the error of apocalyptical proportions he’s saving up can match Fair Ain’t Fair’s success in overcoming his minor ones.
May 1st, 2008
The Matches
An enigma is rare in the present state of predictable punk pop music, but A Band In Hope, the third release from Oakland quartet the Matches, will mystify. Just as easily as he can change holiday costumes—duke one year and James Dean the next (“Between Halloweens”)—vocalist Shawn Harris slips between musical identities from a dead-ringer for Chris Carrabba to a channeler of Freddie Mercury. Though the Matches’ influences are eclectic and apparent, the album is seamless from track to track. Yes, shockingly, 90s ska revival-revival “If I Were You” and Andrew Lloyd Webber aspirant “Darkness Rising” are like peas and carrots. The acoustic coming-of-age number “Clouds Crash” is succinct, pleasant, and a fast favorite. “Yankee in a Chip Shop,” a playful rally song about curing a hangover (“get greased to sober up”) while across the pond, is too. But along with the highs, according to “To Build A Mountain,” you also “gotta dig a hole.” One-liner “We Are One” and hot air “Point Me Toward the Morning” meet the low bar, which must make “Wake the Sun” and “Future Tense” rolling hills. They are great actors, but it’s hard to put a finger on who the Matches are and whom this ageless, faceless, music without borders is for. A Band in Hope is mysterious, interest-peaking, and most importantly a call to action for a more distinguishing and less evocative follow-up release.
Apr 1st, 2008
3/20/2008
“The last time we played here, we didn’t play here,” bassist Joanna Bolme reminisced, referring to The Jicks’ 2003 “Milwaukee Show,” where they unexpectedly played an entire set pulled strictly from the Pavement back catalog. Their March 20th show at the Pabst Theater, the second stop on the Jicks’ spring 2008 headlining tour with John Vanderslice, didn’t make such history. This time, the band did what they were supposed to: supported new release Real Emotional Trash. Nine of the disc’s ten tracks were included; “Elmo Delmo” wasn’t. Three songs into the set, someone vocally demanded that Malkmus turn up his guitar (“Down? Or Up?” Malkmus clarified, somehow confused. “Guitars aren’t important to this band,” Bolme joked), but generally, the audience of mostly white male 20-somethings was complacent. “This record was made for playing live, not for listening,” a friend criticized in the lobby at a beer break during the tame “Out Of Reaches.” Though true that something like “Baltimore,” busting with bass-lines and lots of opportunity for Malkmus to prove his guitar fluency, is win-win, 2003’s Pig Lib brought the show’s most stellar point — and some looseness — with “(Do Not Feed the) Oyster.” The second half of “Real Emotional Trash” was also easily climactic; its throbbing energy lured even more of those mostly white male 20-somethings away from their theater seats and toward the pit of the stage. The band bottomed out in a cheap attempt to score points during “Hopscotch Willie.” They lifted their drinks while emphasizing the lyrics “underneath the pier/with BEER!” but didn’t get the reaction they anticipated from Brew City. The crowd had one repeated request throughout the evening, and the lively “Baby C’mon” (Face the Truth, 2005) was finally played as the set’s last word, leaving the audience stomping and howling for an encore. The Jicks returned with a cover of “Run to Your Lover,” and Malkmus confessed that his singing manner (no, nothing to do with cowbell) made him feel like a Will Ferrell impersonator. It took some consideration before finding another encore song new Jick, drummer Janet Weiss (the Bright Eyes tourmate formerly of Sleater-Kinney), would consent to. “We’re not playing “Troubbble,” Malkmus said, to audible disappointment. “We played that last night [in Minneapolis].” They settled on “Animal Midnight” and sent everyone packing before twelve o’clock. One couldn’t help feeling that what Minneapolis hadn’t already spoiled was being spared for Chicago the next night. There’s only space for one “Milwaukee Show” in the books, after all. VS
Mar 27th, 2008
Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks
Despite his reputation as a weirdo, Stephen Malkmus’s fourth solo record plays like the work of an average dude hashing out life’s universal kinks. That’s right — even beatniks like Malkmus struggle with the same “sometimes it feels the world’s stuffed with feathers, table-bottom gum just holding it together” thoughts that we all do – though maybe he does have a more imaginative vocabulary. The instantly relatable “Gardenia,” a tidy pop song about the dissipation of a relationship’s honeymoon phase, actualizes how easy one can flip from doted-on (“I kinda like the way you dot your Js with giant circles of naiveté”) to damaged goods (“Are you just a present waiting to be opened up and parceled out again?”) and delivers some of the record’s best lines. Malkmus’ savvy lyrical poetry is recurrent with the former Pavement front man’s previous Jicks releases, as are his percussive vocals and gritty, southern-Calfornia guitar noodling. Composed of multiple movements that host peppery prog-rock interludes, the 10-minute title-track, which documents a trek through the southwest, and the single “Baltimore” are elaborate epics. The unfussy “We Can’t Help You” is accompanied by ragtime piano and a coy female harmony, while “Wicked Wanda” is curiously redolent of the “lemon drops” bridge of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” It’s the clincher that brings Malkmus, “the Grace Kelly of indie rock,” and now a dad in his 40s, closer to the ground. All 10 tracks are indispensable and fully realized, making Real Emotional Trash a treasure. VITAL Source welcomes Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks to Turner Hall on March 20 with John Vanderslice. For more information call 414-286-3663 or visit The Pabst Theater online. And check out Erin Wolf’s interview with John Vanderslice.
Mar 1st, 2008
Cat Power
Everyone loved her 15 seconds of “How Can I Tell You” in that diamonds commercial. That’s just too bad, since a full-length version isn’t on Jukebox, Chan Marshall’s second CD of cover songs since 2000. Backed by the Dirty Delta Blues band, Marshall keeps things sparse as usual and swaths the songs with her signature rasp. Also typical is her inclusion of another Dylan tune, “I Believe in You.” By now, Marshall has the icon’s panache down pat. “A Song to Bobby,” the only new song on the disc, even details a humbled admiration of the songwriter. Homage is one reason to cover a song, but are there others? That thought recurs when song choice seems mismatched (“Aretha, Sing One For Me”) and when justice isn’t paid to the classics. “Theme from New York, New York,” Hank Williams’ “Ramblin’ Man,” and Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” — all songs of rebellion and conviction originally — are neutered by Marshall’s lethargy. (“Silver Stallion,” however, canters along appropriately in this sleepy state.) “Metal Heart,” written during a restless night in 1999 for Cat Power’s Moon Pix and revised for Jukebox, invigorates the album; it’s the strongest and most expressive of the twelve tracks. It is her own, and she sings it like she owns it — an important dynamic missing from the rest. There isn’t a jukebox on earth that could compile a better A-to-Z of music appreciation, but this record has nothing to say. Use your Jukebox quarters for laundry instead.
Feb 1st, 2008
Call and Response
As teenagers, they learned that musicians get girls. Still embracing that high school mentality as adults, The Response “keep[s] getting older,” but their fans “stay the same age,” says bassist Mikey Blanchard. More playful than pedophiliac, the four-piece has a sense of humor that will surely inspire all kinds of journalistic inaccuracy as they make press for their overdue debut LP, releasing this month.
Dec 18th, 2007
Art vs. Craft
After seven rounds, nationally-recognized Art vs. Craft has become a Milwaukee institution – by way of minimally institutional principles. Also an anomaly: over 75 progressively-minded, “new wave” artists, crafters and designers will be vending their handmade and independent wares – just in time for the holiday feeding frenzy.
Dec 1st, 2007
Northern State
By A.L. Herzog Female hip-hoppers Spero, Hesta Prynn and DJ Sprout are pushing thirty, but they still sound like snot-nosed kids who rhyme as if double-Dutching in the schoolyard or cheering at a high school football game. On their third full-length record, their political agenda is never in question, and though they’re outspoken, they’re also hilarious, if sometimes unintentionally hard to follow. “Sucka Motha Fucka,” thematically along the lines of TLC’s “No Scrubs,” offers concise wordage, several “oh snap!” moments and a name-check of Al Gore. The girls also name-check themselves and each other quite often. It’s annoying filler that may be an imitation of what “rap” is supposed to be. Three albums in and their clear lack of composure perseveres. “Cold War” and “Things I’ll Do,” two recommended songs, open up dialogue on gender relativity. Talk of marriage, babies, money, work, etc. are addressed on the former, while the latter is an anti-feminist rant that, because it’s so cheeky, remains completely inoffensive. What is offensive is that purposeful tracks like the aforementioned are amongst loafers like “Cowboy Man” (ripped from Madonna’s “Ray of Light”) and Spice Girl-esque concessions like “Run Off the Road,” single “Better Already,” and closer “Fall Apart.” Isn’t there a better group to imitate? A smart, spry group like Northern State definitely shouldn’t go away; with ducks in a row, they’d be commendable. If given the chance, maybe the fourth time can be their charm.
Dec 1st, 2007
Citay
The average person does not listen to instrument-led rock music. At most, it’s used as background noise while cleaning, studying, or even sleeping – earning a position not much higher than a Sharper Image sound machine. Without prominent vocals, it’s easy for most to lose interest. Unless, like the not so itty-bitty eight-piece Citay committee, there is a generous amount of aggressive ‘70s guitar to demand attention. The noise comes when least expected, as during the unassuming Elliott Smith-like “On the Wings.”Since the disc’s undertones are mellow, these interjected rock-god moments are startling. Also surprising – and out-of-era – is the Metallica-meddling on “Former Child” which, thankfully, bows out a minute or so into the almost eight-minute track. Now, eight minutes may seem drawn out, but Little Kingdom is never difficult to connect with, even at its most noisy, lyrically free and instrumentally hefty. Not quite as kitchen-sink as today’s symphonic indie bands with as many members, Citay’s wackiest accessory is the mandolin. In addition, songwriter Ezra Feinberg plays nine instruments and provides tender vocals in select songs like the whimsical “First Fantasy.”Not only does he rival Sufjan Stevens in gratuitous musicianship, but also channels Sufjan’s minimalist, folksy vibe throughout “Moonburn,” the album’s closer – beneath the hell-raising retro guitar shredding, of course. If your Led Zepplin III or Pink Floyd Animals vinyl is wearing thin, Little Kingdom is an ideal segue into the current century. Apologies if it’s only released on CD.
Nov 1st, 2007
John Riepenhoff 5 Q
It’s not easy being green, which is why John Riepenhoff, owner and curator of the Green Gallery, established the third-floor Riverwest venue expressly for fresh, emerging artists in 2004. An art school graduate and painter himself, the now-25-year-old could relate. Riepenhoff is interested in social interaction between artists of all media. The space currently hosts a monthly Movie & Masala night for neighborhood filmmakers and sponsors a culturally conscious residency program to align local and global artists, launched by the Institute of Quotidian Arts and Letters this past spring. Between a hectic show opening and a weeklong trip to London’s Frieze Art Fair, John squeezed in our five questions. Keep up with him at thegreengallery.tk. What paved your way from art student to gallery owner/curator? Even as a student, I would question for what and for whom art was made, so exploring the gateway from the artist’s hands to the public arena was a natural progression. Running a low-maintenance space — using a model similar to DIY rock house venues — eased my start, and the playfulness of the artists I exhibited directly elevated the gallery. The more artists and gallerists I met locally and nationally, the more I realized the significance of the Milwaukee art community; that still motivates me to continue the Green Gallery project, and to experiment with methods of showcasing art and encouraging local artists. How do your personal tastes and values guide the Green Gallery cut? The artists who show are ones that surprise me; they are making art that says “things are exciting right now” in a new way, or they are creating interesting situations that don’t yet have a venue but should. They are commenting on the conditions of art and popular culture in a way similar to a writer by critiquing aspects of experience and history, and by offering some alternatives. I like these traits in people, too. I like the meta. What are the highs and lows of your role? I get to meet so many creative and amazing individuals, and get to be a part of their lives. Some of my all-time favorite artists are real people that I helped reach a broader audience! Supporting and empowering artists by stimulating discussion and exposing their ideas to receptive audiences is a real high. Building, sanding, painting, cleaning and fixing the space are all of the lows that make the highs feel better-deserved. What makes Milwaukee a good home for art? In Milwaukee, people can find time for their own projects without having to pay inflated rent that many of the (other) art centers around the country indoctrinate. The art community here is small enough that one can find help for his or her projects in friends and acquaintances, as well as find other projects that might be a perfect showcase of her or his talent. I like to think that we Milwaukeeans can commit to our own personal voices without being distracted by the pettiness of mainstream […]
Nov 1st, 2007
Buffalo
Affordable drinks and public smoking are two things homesick MC Lunaversol9, recent San Francisco implant, misses most about Milwaukee. Another is, of course, the people—not limited to her newfound friend and cohort Nicholas Sanborn. Sanborn, who frequented the coffeehouse where Luna worked, was familiar with her background with local hip-hop mainstays Def Harmonic, and presented her with an instrumental track in need of her flair. Though unable to produce anything for months, Luna eventually found the words, and the results were “Curtains,” a song about loss that would become one of her favorites to perform solo. “Deer Tracks,” where Luna’s smoke-ridden voice begs “I want antlers” the way a spoiled child demands her own golden goose, began as a looped guitar sample and was presented by Sanborn and verbally delivered by Luna in a similar fashion. “It was strange,” she says. “Unlike any other track I had ever been given. But gorgeous.” After two personally challenging and fulfilling songs, not committing to a project with Sanborn would have been foolish. At Sanborn’s request, the two formed Buffalo; Luna covers most of the lyrics, singing, and rapping, while Sanborn lays down the Wurlitzer, organ, piano, bass, guitar, and computer. “He is a musical genius, and I am mainly just a writer,” Luna admits. “There is really nothing he cannot do; his arrangements and choices are baffling. I only write when I can, and hope it fits.” Her unpretentiously earthy, soul-sopped attitude also bleeds out of her lyrics: “Is there a way to be a writer/And still be in love? Is there a way to drown in water/While watching it from above?” A short-lived, albeit intense fling last summer—evidence to support Luna’s rhetorical questions—was inspiration for the lion’s share of Buffalo’s first album. The debut has been recorded and is currently being mixed, but has no due date. While creative undergoings are usually compared to one’s children, Luna says music has always been more like a parent, much like the city she left to pursue life on the West Coast, a choice partner Sanborn respects and understands. Her goals for Buffalo, even after migrating from the Great Plains, are simply “to continue.” She adds, “to tour would be paradise.” Inspired by Fiona Apple, Tom Waits, Cocorosie, and David Byrne, among others, Luna has her eyes toward indie trip-hops TV On The Radio for tourmates. On March 3, 2007, the newly born Buffalo was unveiled to an audience. Live, the band is a different animal, when a drummer and an additional multi-instrumentalist fill out the stage. Despite Buffalo’s infancy, Luna has rapped since 1999 and Sanborn has played keys for Decibully since 2003, tallying volumes of stage and touring experience. The next Buffalo show, slated for her October Milwaukee homecoming, is promised to provide precisely “what you need at the time.” Luna’s own first impressions of Buffalo—strange and gorgeous—are likely to be yours, too. Two tracks are available for listen at http://www.myspace.com/iwantantlers
Oct 1st, 2007
The Sadies
The Sadies play like a Quentin Tarantino film — a synthesis of cult genres (surf, rockabilly, psychedelia), characters with memorable names (Sean Dean, Dallas Good) wearing smart suits, and a sweeping casualness about it all. Unlike Tarantino, the Toronto band’s fifth studio release has an absence of curse words and racial slurs. It’s hard to neglect their liner-note acknowledgment of the “financial assistance of the government of Canada through the department of Canadian Heritage” – pretty amusing since their brand is a blend of mindfully resuscitated ’60s American music. The Sadies haven’t reinvented the wheel, but they do hitch it on a wagon that rolls past an enjoyable landscape. “My Heart Of Wood” and “Sunset To Dawn” parade natural harmonies reminiscent of the Eagles. “Anna Leigh,” an organ-permeated trot about a mirage of love, is easily mistaken for a song titled “Emily” given the rambling, raspy lead singer. “Wolf Tones” and finale “The Last Inquisition (Pt.V)” highlight the band’s instrumental adeptness and stand tall without the Bob Seger vocal reinforcement; the upright bass, guitars, autoharp, and drums are eerie, inspired, and practically faultless. Extended family members contribute their musicality to the record – most distinctly, Larry Good’s lively, but buried, banjo artistry on “Never Again.” The filtered autumn colors in fuzzy film grain emblazoned across the CD packaging are representative of New Season‘s sound: inviting, textured, and mature. Maybe it’s okay to occasionally judge a book by the cover.
Oct 1st, 2007
Carolyn Mark
Victoria, B.C.’s most acclaimed Party Girl, Terrible Hostess and less lime-lighted half of the Corn Sisters, Carolyn Mark has removed the training wheels of collaboration (her last release was strictly duets) and is again riding solo. Nothing Is Free, whose liner notes devote the disc to “all the Cowboys, Vampires, Pirates, Poets, Scarecrows and Enablers,” is a reflection of the Can-country minx’s adorably kooky “Point o’ View.” In Mark’s universe, hopes are kept “where we can see ‘em,” those without investments can justify spending “thousands of dollars/keeping Friday alive” and aver that “it’s easier to love an idea/than it is a man.” Equally endearing are Mark’s auctioneer vocals on “1 Thing” and “Get Along,” tracks that could easily be caroused to under a state fair beer tent. Not to be pigeonholed to a do-se-do, Mark’s sound flutters from sunny surf rock (“Happy 2B Flying Away” ) to spacey daydream (“Destination: You” ) , pollinated by her husky Natalie Merchant purr and lyrics that pack a Loretta Lynn punch. “Poisoned With Hope” is uncharacteristically bulky and grating, but pardonable given Mark’s unmatched whimsy and otherwise fluid execution. Folksy, nobody’s-fool showstopper “The 1 That Got Away (With It ) ” will most likely earn the attention of femme rags like Venus and Bust, but until she flags down a more mainstream demographic, Mark will continue her notoriety as “the other Corn Sister.” If her liner tribute to the freaks and underdogs is any indication, though, she won’t be shooting off flares any time soon.
Sep 1st, 2007
Tegan and Sara
Like the “HeadOn: apply directly to the forehead” commercial, Tegan and Sara’s “Walking With a Ghost” (from 2004’s So Jealous) proved that repetition equals retention. The simplistic and cyclical single earned an EP dedication by The White Stripes; the Canuck twin songwriters took note. On The Con, “Walking With a Ghost”-equivalents “Back in Your Head” and “Hop A Plane,” which are filled with pop hooks like “every record between ’93 and ’97,” act as a safety net for exploration elsewhere. While royalty checks must be added security, thankfully this is not another album ripe with lackluster Grey’s Anatomy ballads. More mope than mush, “Knife Going In” and “Relief Next to Me” are unprecedentedly dark, dwelling on the loss of their “grama” and the insanity and loneliness that came with it. Though apart while writing, the sum of their individual contributions is consistent in both lyric and mood – twin telepathy? Death Cab For Cutie’s Chris Walla and Jason McGerr, The Con’s co-producer and drummer, respectively, make their presences known – if not blaringly obvious – through delicate electronics and calculated percussion. “Floorplan” and “Burn Your Life Down” are giveaways. “Nineteen,” “Call It Off” and the title track best meld the sisters’ aesthetic of earnestness and interwoven vocals with the collaborators’ marks, making those three songs particularly accomplished. When they aren’t adopting English accents on “Are you Ten Years Ago” or sounding like bingo callers on “Like O, Like H,” they put forth their most substantial material to date. If only it could speak louder than their damn undying scenester haircuts… VS
Aug 1st, 2007
Kelly Willis
While an American Idol monopolizes the dial with a hit about mutilating a cheater’s automobile, Kelly Willis returns some integrity to crossover-country. This mother of four who took a five-year sabbatical since her last release to raise her children is proof that hip is possible without the need to be trashy or pseudo-political – a misconception common for her gender in the genre recently. More “gingham aprons and bad blood” than restraining order, each song as a slice of the Translated From Love pie is fully baked and plentifully spiced. The light, flaky “The More That I’m Around You” and “Sweet Surrender” are prime candidates for any romantic comedy soundtrack. “Too Much To Lose” brings a taste of Willis’s priorities to the plate: do not take love or life for granted. Lyrics cover everything expected – Texas towns, cheap thrills, head-over-heels affection. Unexpected is Willis’ offset of the nine originals (some co-written with her husband) with three surprising covers including Adam Green’s “Teddy Boys” and Iggy Pop’s “Success.” These tracks muddle up the album’s cohesiveness, but are amusing when heard in Willis’ made-for-country voice. Nevertheless, creating for the public is ideally the result of having something significant to say, and however sweet the melodies and able the supporting musicians, urgency is missing from this recipe. Much like the frustration shared in “Nobody Wants to Go to the Moon Anymore,” it’s a disposable, been-there-done-that world. Translated From Love has little material worth a double take, and as a whole pie, probably won’t do more than cool on the windowsill. VS
Jul 1st, 2007
A little bit indie, a little bit classical
Photo by Lenny Gilmore They may have a cute name, cute merch and cute alternating boy/girl vocals, but the nine-month-old Kid, You’ll Move Mountains aren’t aiming to charm, though frontman Jim Hanke does admit the five-piece has had “great luck fall in [their] lap.” This luxury has allowed a somewhat lax approach to promotion and recording – but don’t think the band lacks a smidge of motivation or enthusiasm. “Our ages and personal situations require us to be pretty focused,” says drummer Nate Lanthrum, with a subtle air of experience. From 2001 to 2005, Lanthrum and his brother, bassist Andrew, toured six months a year with Chicago’s Troubled Hubble, as Hanke sang for El Oso across the northerly state line. Ultimately, it was Hubble’s showcase for Latest Flame Records in Hanke’s hometown of Milwaukee that crossed the musicians’ paths. After being “blown away” by their performance and “overall humility,” Hanke and Lanthrum’s bands formed a “family-like union,” booking and networking together throughout the Midwest. As both projects wound down from current to former, Hanke and the Lanthrums, still eager to “bring something new and creative to [their] respective local scenes,” appended guitarist Corey Wills and classically trained pianist Nina Jones – whose background contributes a more traditional perspective – to complete the group. “Nina is a phenomenal musician,” says Lanthrum, in awe of Jones’s comprehension of “notes and keys” instead of his more-familiar “deep, guttural sounds and sweeping arm gestures.” Nevertheless, he’s learning, and is convinced that with her dynamic, KYMM has “a whole new range of places to go.” In August of 2006, the band was in the downtown WMSE studio playing a set for the Local/Live program. “We weren’t sure that having a radio show as our documented first recording was the best idea, but the sound was perfect for what we were looking for,” Lanthrum says of the convenient, minimal production. Hanke adds, “It was a good opportunity to record our first six songs together for nothing.” Further boosting the grassroots appeal of the EP, a Polaroid photo taken the day of purchase satisfies both the need for album art and a “slightly different” execution. At live shows, the instant camera is omnipresent and fans can opt to be photographed for their own CD jacket. “The only downside,” says Hanke, is “when people refuse the picture because they think they look pudgy or they have red eye. We have a stack of those.” Clearly, photo discards should be incorporated into the packaging of KYMM’s upcoming glossy debut, which the band is currently in the process of home recording, somewhere between Milwaukee and Geneva, Illinois. “We definitely want to get an official record out there, but we are also anxious to take our time and tool around with different ideas and make the entire process a fun adventure,” says Hanke. In the meantime, Hanke intends to “play as many shows as possible” as Lanthrum scratches his itch to return to the road. KYMM has already opened for a […]
May 2nd, 2007
Bright Eyes
Polarizing indie icon Conor Oberst lobs his first full-length studio album since 2005’s simultaneous releases I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. Cassadaga, Florida, renowned “Psychic Center of the World” and the “South’s Oldest Spiritualist Community,” is the CD’s namesake. Songs about self-cleansing, balancing out and finding home emphasize the spiritual theme. “Four Winds” – on loan from this spring’s eponymous EP – and the Janet Weiss-drummed “Hot Knives” come as close as Americana can get to head-banging and fist-pumping. “Middleman” flaunts Iron & Wine-worthy breaths of grainy fiddling and “I Must Belong Somewhere” alone embodies enough colorful imagery to defend Oberst’s visionary status. Tribal beats and vocals feel fresh on the atmospheric “Coat Check Dream Song.” “Make A Plan To Love Me” begins as an airy lullaby swirled with female a capella, but becomes so over-produced that it winds up leaning toward theatrical score. Though delivering memorable storytelling and big hooks, the majority of songs also surrender to the same excessive polishing. Gone is the raw zest and neighing naiveté that made Fevers and Mirrors such a powerful release. Oberst even sings “…was a hopeless romantic/now I’m just turning tricks,” a possible reference to fatiguing artistic expression. Is our precious Conor jading over, growing up and abandoning his wild ways? Cassadaga is an attempt to convince, but he’ll most likely still be spitting into microphones, stumbling over amplifiers and wrangling up girls with nice shoes on the album’s supporting tour. Just as he should be. VS
May 1st, 2007
The Decemberists’ Chris Funk
Anyone with even a minute awareness of The Decemberists would find it challenging to resist asking guitarist Chris Funk all kinds of ridiculousness, like the random “What’s your favorite Western?” or the general “Why are you guys so fun?” But, it takes only one spin of anything in their catalogue to understand – Guitarmageddon, stage antics and official drink aside – that they are indeed serious musicians. With Guitarmageddon, stage antics and official drink considered, however, perhaps “serious about music” would be a better phrase. Multi-instrumentalist Funk, who personally handled acoustic guitar, banjo, bouzouki, dulcimer, electric guitar, hurdy-gurdy, pedal steel and percussion on 2006’s The Crane Wife alone, is fresh off a European tour and at home in Oregon, a state whose spectacle and character lured him from the Midwest over a decade ago. “I felt like I had done all I could do,” says the Indiana native. “I wanted to move out to Oregon to play music, for some reason.” Portland may now be the hub for a list of acts just as extensive as Funk’s performance credits, but, he adds, “at the time it wasn’t known as a musical city, and not a music-industry city by any stretch of the imagination.” Intuition paid off for Funk, who has toured with The Decemberists for around six years, a substantial tenure. During that short span, they have cultivated an active community of fans and released four LPs and five EPs (including two online exclusives) to critical kudos. As impressive as that sounds, to Funk, it only means that he, vocalist Colin Meloy, keyboardist Jenny Conlee, bassist Nate Query and drummer John Moen simply “happen to find ourselves in a rock band that people marginally care about.” The understating Funk knows that “blowing people’s minds is really difficult to do these days” and that not many since Jimi Hendrix have accomplished anything of the sort. “I’m not saying our band is doing it; I don’t think our band is,” he says. Yet sitting somewhere between Hendrix and today’s Top 40 are The Decemberists. So what are they doing exactly? “We’re a pop band and that’s about it.” It’s clear that Funk is realistic, even while contributing to a group especially keen on narrative, mythology and folklore. That being said, The Decemberists aren’t your trendy, textbook cool, or even a particularly marketable band, which is why signing Capitol Records to push their new release last year, instead of their alma mater Kill Rock Stars, was a potentially risky move. Thankfully, outside of the inevitably larger venues and increased ticket prices, corporate pitfalls have been innocuous thus far to the quintet, who places “serving music” above all else. “The responsibility is initially with yourself,” Funk explains. Integrity will prevent the release of anything they’re “not into” in the future, regardless of what label is driving their deadlines. “When we make a record, we feel an unspoken responsibility to make ourselves happy and entertain ourselves.” The Decemberists are celebrated for their over-the-top theatrics and […]
Apr 1st, 2007
Paula Frazer & Tarnation
Not having thoroughly kicked all her baggage to the curb with 2005’s Leave the Sad Things Behind, San Francisco singer-songwriter Paula Frazer follows up with another album about moving on. Her fourth solo release, Now It’s Time, also revives her former band, Tarnation, as support. Frazer soups up alt-country standbys with jangly honky-tonk piano on “Bitter Rose” and flamenco tambourine on “Another Day.” “Pretend” features a childlike yodeling reminiscent of a wooden train whistle. Effectively simple string arrangements flesh out many of the tracks. If Frazer’s lyrics mirrored her eclectic instrumentation, Now It’s Time would be perfection, but she constantly recycles the same stale imagery (the sun, darkness, fire). But while the album would benefit if the storytelling were on par with the songwriting, the lack of lyrical originality is not necessarily detracting to Frazer, whose voice could draw listeners singing about…well…the sun, darkness and fire. Like Joni Mitchell meets Morrissey, Frazer’s soulful voice turns, trills and glides effortlessly from track to track. It’s sunken yet confident, parallel to the music it narrates. Though overtly melancholy, these barbiturate-drenched songs find a way to float. Now It’s Time touches on relationships’ gray areas: when to stay and when to go, when to speak up and when to hold your tongue. Not uncertain, however, is Frazer’s ability to deliver a plush, relistenable disc for fans of the heavier-hyped (and less authentic) Neko Case and Jenny Lewis. VS
Mar 1st, 2007
The Early Years
Already in play to sell Nike shoes, the single “All Ones & Zeros” gets The Early Years’ debut out of the blocks at lightning speed; but it’s false advertising for the record as a whole. Although the intro song is a propelling dash, what follows lacks similar kinetic force. Intentionally. This three-piece, comprised of a drummer and pedal-happy guitar duo, adamantly refuse to chase after the skinny-tie, post-punk revivalist trend. Instead of worshipping Gang of Four, the self-proclaimed “experimental” band cite Neu!, Television and Mogwai as influences. If experimental means ambience, feedback and droning, and the preceding bands were reputably boring and uninventive, then these guys are spot on. The Early Years sound more confident when they aren’t trying so hard. The majority of songs, including the utterly beige “Brown Hearts,” are like a game of hot/cold (getting warmer…even warmer… ). The musicians find direction as the tracks count down, leaving questions as to how much improvisation they employed while recording. Likewise, the last two and a half minutes of “High Times And Low Lives” show potential and should have been the project’s starting line. Here, parts move – the darling avant-garde electronics live rightfully among the twangy guitar and incisive percussion. Regrettably, the disc’s closers, though pretty, deflate any remaining hope of resurrecting the buzz. The Early Years live up to their name; they play a diluted imitation of art rock’s early years, contributing little more than better technology. They’re on the heels of something good, but until their sophomore release, why buy a knock-off when you can just as easily listen to the real thing? VS
Feb 1st, 2007
Of Montreal
The eccentric title, packaging and track listing initially intimidate, but Of Montreal’s latest is actually quite accessible. It kick-starts as a lively, logical continuation of 2005’s The Sunlandic Twins, then capriciously plunges, only to rocket straight back to the skies. All the while, Kevin Barnes, currently Of Montreal’s lone orchestrator, delivers downtrodden narratives almost sociopathically. He holds a pep rally for controlled substances (“come on, chemicals!” ) and sets “spending the winter on the verge of a total breakdown” against a roller rink jam. Listeners are held, mesmerized “particles in motion,” through his impulses to arrange catfights, cling to seclusion and vandalize property. A sinister sound hits on “The Past Is A Grotesque Animal,” a 12-minute climb of perpetual guitar, dense tremolo and what I can only hope is a pterodactyl. Conversely, “Bunny Ain’t No Kind Of Rider” and “She’s A Rejector” are sing-along singles, exhilarating enough to allow a mere cheek turn at the blatant Prince-riff rip-off on “Labyrinthian Pomp.” Though Barnes’ voice is unarguably more pleasant in a lower register, the record’s best moments are when his singing is utilized as a gadget in its own right, no different from a drum machine or synthesizer. Even better is that, despite the hardships he reveals lyrically, Barnes doesn’t take himself too seriously. “Let’s just have some fun,” he decrees; and who shuns fun? Hissing Fauna is sure to captivate adventurous pop fans of any genre. VS
Jan 1st, 2007
