Classical
Colin Hay, May 3 @ The Miramar Theatre
By Erin Landry Dropping in at Bay View’s local watering hole, the Palomino, you might have had the pleasure to be served a drink by Colin Hay’s opening act Thursday night: the talented Davey von Bohlen (of Cap’n Jazz, Promise Ring and Vermont fame), a regal name he says that was given to him at birth, which after the first few songs you realize is in direct contrast to his humble disposition. Starting off a set with “songs that preamble” by his own admission, he covered material from his “younger days” as well as songs recorded by his current band, Maritime. His voice warbles then cracks at one point, he misses notes, he stops then starts when he forgets lyrics, he laughs and chides himself, all of which just add to the spontaneous feel of his music. The imperfections and mistakes, instead of being distracting, conveyed the creative process and created an intimate performance. It was less of a concert, more of an impromptu experimental venture, music in its most raw form. And, though no explanation was necessary, after a youthful chirp from his two-year-old at the back of the crowd, he confesses that instead of practicing before the show, he “slacked off” and took his son to the children’s museum. How can you not forgive that? During intermission, the ladies room titters with rumors that Colin Hay’s live performances include his wife who does interpretive dance. Back inside the theatre, the lights dim and a rousing backstage introduction, which sets the tone for the rest of the night, describes Colin as a multi-platinum performer who “believes football is played with a round ball, enjoys sunsets, walks on the beach, and ladies, if you’re wondering, he’s a cancer.” Let’s get this right out of the way; Colin Hay is so much more than a blip on the ‘80s pop icon MTV screen (Men at Work). Since that time he has assembled an enviable body of work that has been touted through television via “Scrubs” and film via the indie hit “Garden State.” He is an artist that withstands the changing times, providing a new body of work of evocative and bittersweet songs and contemplations on life. In any case, the night’s performance is less pop concert more all-inclusive variety show (in the best possible sense) with song, poetry, comedy, storytelling and, true to rumor, an array of vocals, kazoo playing and interpretive dance by his gorgeous wife, Cecilia. The first hour was a sprinkling of newer songs overshadowed mostly by Mr. Hay talking about youth, life lessons and other musings including an admission that, while he recently wrote a song about the infamous Bob Dylan (his opening song: What Would Bob Do?), he’s never actually met the man in person. But instead of working on an album or song with Dylan, he says how he’d prefer to work on a car together, talk about alternators and transmissions…or maybe walk around a Costco in search for toilet paper, all the while […]
May 7th, 2007 by Vital Archives
Aqualung, May 3 @ The Pabst
Photo by CJ Foeckler/Pabst Theater It’s difficult to write a music review these days without drawing an inevitable comparison to a predecessor or contemporary. The case in evidence: Matt Hales’ Aqualung, which took the stage Thursday night as part of the Milwaukee Pabst Theater’s fairly priced series of talented but mostly underground and underrated national acts. What’s important about mentioning this last part has to due with some intimacy issues in the venue, which will come up again later. Matt Hales appears to be in his early 20s, which is probably important in light of the recent new flood of Britpop artists who have given us boatloads of sensitive rock in the past few years. If we follow a family tree, then Blur begat Verve and Suede, who begat Oasis and Radiohead, who begat Coldplay and Travis, which gave us (and drawing the wannabe label) Aqualung…and Keane, James Blunt, Snow Patrol, the Feeling, and…well, just insert your own VH1 You Oughta Know find – where Hales got his first American-side break. But the 35-year-old piano rock singer/songwriter is a bit older than most on the tree, and did not find success until landing a successful tune for the new Volkswagen Beetle in 2002. It’s hard to quantify a sound when in the middle of it. When synthpop was at its height, did music fans say, “Oh, that Erasure. They’re just a Depeche Mode wannabe.” At the time, there was room for everybody. Shouldn’t it be fair to just claim Aqualung as an overall part of a new movement deeply entrenched in mood and angst? Hales does not make it easy. To sit back in the demure and refined darkness of the Pabst and enjoy his obvious and highly-trained musical talent, there has to be a suspension of disbelief. This would mean in musical terms that the audience member would forgive the lapse in organic flow and just be entertained. But just close your eyes as the four-piece band plays, and suddenly you’re listening to the sound of Ben Folds. Then in another song, Chris Martin. Then another, Damon Albarn. Another, Thom Yorke. The music eloquently meanders like this as you try and guess the influence, like a gourmand attempting to guess the subtle flavors as they emerge in a complex dish. When Aqualung launches into “Pressure Suit,” off his newest studio album Memory Man, suddenly you are hearing Jeff Tweedy and Wilco circa A Ghost is Born. Hales goes so far as to admit a personal infatuation with the band during one of his cheeky bantering with the audience. From there, Hales (now seated at a baby grand instead of standing up front at a Yamaha keyboard) and company attempt to cover Wilco’s “Muzzle of Bees.” “Attempt” is used as the operative word here since it seems like something the guys rehearsed on the tour bus ride into town. Also, the lowdown desperation of Tweedy’s version is missing and replaced with something more harmonious. To his credit, Hales voice often […]
May 4th, 2007 by Brian Jacobson
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 by Amber Herzog
Robbie Fulks
By Allison Berndt The best way to describe Robbie Fulks’ new album Revenge! is to call it an eclectic hillbilly mix produced live on the road for an audience that’s looking for some good ol’ country music alongside a good laugh. Well, it’s true. Fulks, known for his catchy country songs and humorous lyrics, has put together an impressive collection of his very best. Hints of jazz, bluegrass and even a little ‘50s rock are evident in this generally hillbilly-esque compilation. Revenge! is a two-CD set of live recordings, half of which are brand-new songs. “I Like Being Left Alone” is a perfect example of a song that makes you laugh while engaging you musically with a charming melody. The best tracks on the album include previous hits “I Want to Be Mama’d” and “Cigarette State,” as well as a cover of Cher’s “Believe.” Fulks goes off on a guitar tangent that’ll take the listener through some masterful riffs in “Mama’d,” and “Cigarette State” is bound to be a crowd pleaser no matter where or when you hear it – it’s a staple in his repertoire. To hear a western cover of “Believe” is laughable in general, but even more so with the adaptation Fulks provides. Slower and more serious, “The Buck Starts Here” is a great theme that showcases a classic twangy country sound. Revenge! has a smattering of everything on it: old songs and new, covers and originals and any tempo for which you could be in the mood. It’s a solid collection with one constant element: hillbilly. VS
May 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Feist
Leslie Feist has all the makings of a classic indie girl – completely indecipherable, yet at the same time completely able to be pigeonholed. For one not familiar with Feist, the Canadian has some pretty ridiculous credits racked up: from the electro-shock value of Peaches to the pretty indie-pop of the Broken Social Scene (not to mention stints with By Divine Right and Kings of Convenience). She seems comfortable with and suited to each place she ventures. Her newest album, The Reminder, sees her travel right from writing in the tour bus and creating in the studio to finishing up a tour stint in Berlin and capping it off with a recording session with pals Mocky, [Chilly] Gonzales and Jaime Lidell in la Frette Studios outside of Paris. Feist’s previous releases, Let it Die and Open Season, made Canada and Europe take notice of her youthful but classic jazz vocals and guitar playing that lent a punchy yet wispy quality to her pop, half penned by her, half lent by others. This time around, Feist is writing more, collaborating with her recording pals Mocky and Gonzales as well as Ron Sexsmith. If Feist was arresting before doing other people’s songs, she is even more so singing her own. The lone cover song, “Sea Lion Woman,” was originally written by George Bass and made famous by Nina Simone. Feist revamps it by pairing light-stepping vocals with energetic and full handclaps. Feist also tries her hand at gospel, country-twinged pop in “Past in Present,” brooding piano dynamics in “My Moon My Man,” haunting ethereality in the chilling “The Water” and upbeat with “I Feel it All.” Versatility is the mark of a great songwriter, and Feist is writing with such fluidity on The Reminder that it will be interesting to see which direction Feist will travel next. VS
May 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
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 by Amber Herzog
Patti Smith
The word “mulatto” jumps from Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” the National Anthem for the blanker than blank generation. And until all the kids memorized the lyrics and drove Kurt Cobain over the edge it was that one word that hung like cool, moist ground fog on a hot summer night. But before Nirvana there was Big Joe Turner. In fact before just about everything there was Big Joe Turner. One might even argue plausibly that Big Joe was the real nirvana when it came to rock & roll. In his book Where Dead Voices Gather Nick Tosches writes: But enough of color. I tire of every race. I shall, however, here glance for a moment in this context of color and auditory evidence and speculation, to the bellowed words of Big Joe Turner’s “Tell Me, Pretty Baby” of 1948: They say brown-skinned women are evil. And yellow girls are worse. I got myself a mulatta, boy; I’m playin’ it safety first. Or is there no comma intended between the penultimate and ultimate words of the third line of this quatrain? – I got myself a mulatta boy Has the question of a solitary punctuation mark…, ever before or since presented an ambiguity of momentousness such as this? Get thee, then, a mulatto, regardless of gender, punctuation or pronunciation; and proceed, then, behind me, together as one. While the Cobain saga proves once again, sadly, that rock & roll eats its young, what is more vexing is just how many generations it took for mulatto to resurface in a lyric. Twelve, then, is Patti Smith’s twelfth album. (Longtime collaborators Lenny Kaye and Jay Dee Daugherty are still riding shotgun.) It is an album of cover tunes. She has earned the right to coast, pay tribute, have fun – whatever the explanation of this album may be. She is the ultimate case of the fan who made the leap of faith to the stage. (She behaved admirably when she was recently inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame because her late husband Fred Sonic requested she do so.) Twelve gives us an even dozen snapshots paying tribute to The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, the folky Neil Young, Jefferson Airplane and The Doors. Paul Simon and Stevie Wonder, too. The most interesting tune is an odd old- timey take on “Smells Like Teen Spirit” itself, with playwright Sam Shepherd on banjo. We may never know Smith’s reason for covering Gregg Allman’s “Midnight Rider,” but Tears For Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” always sounded to me like it was writ for Muzak from the gitgo. Friends, we are currently living in modern times. Some Old Testament types may even vehemently suggest the end is near. So what better time to sidestep the laws of The Man and track down bootleg recordings of Patti Smith’s real covers. Her first single was turning “Hey Joe” into a heavy liquid ballad, and along the way she’s covered The Velvet […]
May 1st, 2007 by Blaine Schultz
Simply the best
By Evan Solochek + Photos by Kat Jacobs and Gene Martin He is one of the recording industry’s true living legends; some call him the godfather of modern music. His name is as synonymous with rock & roll as Jimi Hendrix or Eric Clapton. What’s that? You say you’ve never heard of him? Well, take a closer look at that cursive signature on the headstock of that Gibson guitar your favorite musician is playing. That’s his. His name is Les Paul. Born Lester William Polfuss in 1915 in Waukesha, Wisconsin, Les Paul took to music at an early age, performing semi-professionally by the age of 13 and with Rube Tronson’s Cowboys by 17. Shortly thereafter, he moved to St. Louis, Missouri and joined the Wolverston’s Radio Band on KMOX. By the 1930s, Paul was in Chicago playing jazz on local radio stations, and in 1936 he released his first two records. However, despite this early success, Paul was generally disappointed with the musical equipment with which he had to work; he found the acoustic bodies of the ‘30s-era electric guitars to be too dampening for noisy clubs. So, Paul began experimenting, and after some initial success in 1935 with “The Log,” which was nothing more than a length of fence post with a bridge, neck and pickup attached, Paul perfected his design in 1941 and built one of the first solid-body electric guitars, a revolutionary design that made rock & roll’s signature sound possible. By the early ‘50s, Gibson Guitar Corporation had finally taken an interest and used some of Paul’s design suggestions to build a prototype that would come to be known the world over as the “Les Paul” model, immortalized by the likes of Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, George Harrison, Bob Marley, Joe Perry, Slash and countless others. Today the Les Paul design remains virtually unchanged and one of the most popular guitar models around. While Paul also made many groundbreaking innovations in the area of multi-track recording, overdubbing and reverb, he is much more than an inventor. Widely considered the greatest jazz guitarist of his generation, over his 75 years in music and radio Paul has released over 10 albums, recorded and performed with the likes of Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby and was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1978, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1988, the National Inventors Hall of Fame in 2005 and the National Broadcasters Hall of Fame in 2006. Also in 2006, at the age of 90, Paul won two Grammy Awards for his album Les Paul & Friends: American Made, World Played. Now 91, this musical visionary will return home to Waukesha on May 10 to play a concert at the Milwaukee Marriott West hotel (tickets are $1,500 for up-front Premier Tables of four or $300 for general admission) that will also include appetizers, dinner, a silent auction and an autograph session. While the concert will only be 45 minutes long, it will mark the […]
May 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Andrew Bird/Apostle of Hustle @ Alverno’s Pitman Theatre, April 21
Announcing that the audience at Alverno’s Pitman Theatre was about to experience the venue’s only ‘rock’ show of the season, opening act Apostle of Hustle began their set. It was filled with punchy banter from front man Andrew Whiteman, flippant statements on politics, co-eds and drug culture and lots of new material from their latest release National Anthem of Nowhere. The set swapped southwestern indie rock sounds with indie pop rock, pleasing fans, intriguing first-time listeners and warming the crowd well for the headliner. Chicagoan Andrew Bird (whose music is based on the excellent combination of big sounds and big words) returned to Milwaukee for his first ‘big-venue’ appearance at the Pitman Theatre (his previous Milwaukee shows have been at the former Gil’s Café and the Miramar Theatre). And while Whiteman may have dubbed the evening a “rock show,” true-blue Bird fans knew they were in for much more than that. Armed with his latest collection of songs from Armchair Apocrypha, his two touring pals Martin Dosh (drums, keys) and Jeremy Ylvisaker (guitar, bass) from Minneapolis and two of the coolest amps ever created by Chicago luthier Ian Schneller – a single horn shaped like a gramophone and a double-spinning-horn amp called a “Janus Horn”– Bird and company created a stunning mini-orchestra. Bird hushed the audience with his whimsical croon, sparkling, world-famous whistle and glockenspiel combination, and his amazing ability to layer guitar and violin via a sampler. Bird even shook off his shoes, giving himself easier toe-push access to the buttons on his sampler, arranging a base of guitar, then plucked up his violin, setting his Janus amp a-spinning to bow his way through renditions of “Fiery Crash” and “Imitosis.” He later took it solo with “Masterfade” (the audience helping him along with his brain-farted lyrics) and “Dr. Stringz,” dedicated to his nieces and from his television appearance on kids TV network Noggin. Bird pulled the show together by weaving in stories about his travels in France and how they were the partial inspiration for his new material. “Plasticities,” he said, is a song born from a breakfast of oatmeal and accompanied by four looped songs in a topsy-turvy French hotel, while an attempted car-parking in Bordeaux before a show gave us “Heretics.” Storytime ended and Bird finished up the set with material from The Mysterious Production of Eggs (“Skin Is, My” and “Tables and Chairs” ) and “Scythian Empires” from Armchair. The audience, picture-perfect up until now, politely hushed during songs and wildly cheering in-between, couldn’t resist any longer as a few made their way down the aisle, dancing and twirling to Bird’s literary indie symphony. VS To view more images from the show, click HERE.
Apr 24th, 2007 by Erin Wolf
April 2007
April 3rd The Academy Is… Santi Fueled By Ramen Boys Like Girls Boys Like Girls Red Ink/Columbia Brandi Carlile The Story Columbia Chevelle Vena Sera Epic Jarvis Cocker Jarvis Rough Trade/World’s Fair Fountains of Wayne Traffic and Weather Virgin Kings of Leon Because of the Times RCA Los Straitjackets Rock en Espanol, Vo. 1 Yep Roc Maxïmo Park Our Earthly Pleasures Warp Andy Partridge Monstrance Ape House/Ryko Static-X Cannibal Reprise Timbaland Timbaland Presents Shock Value Paul Wall Get Money – Stay True Atlantic The Waterboys Boy of Lightning U.K. – Universal April 10th Army of Me Citizen Doghouse Blonde Redhead 23 4AD Bright Eyes Cassadaga Saddle Creek Coco Rosie The Adventures of Ghosthorse and Stillborn Touch & Go From Autumn to Ashes Holding a Wolf By the Ears Vagrant Grinderman Grinderman Anti-/Epitaph Guster Satellite EP Reprise Nekromantrix Life is a Grave & I Dig It! Hellcat/Epitaph The Terrible Twos If You Ever See an Owl Poquito/Vagrant April 17th The Comas Spells Vagrant Avril Lavigne The Best Damn Thing RCA Page McConnell Page McConnell Legacy Nine Inch Nails Year Zero Nothing/Interscope The Old Soul The Old Soul Friendly Fire Priestbird In Your Time Kemado April 24th Arctic Monkeys Favourite Worst Nightmare Domino Bill Callahan Woke on a Whaleheart Drag City/Caroline Cowboy Junkies At the End of Paths Taken Zoe/Rounder The Electric Soft Parade No Need to be Downhearted Better Looking Gus Gus Forever Groove Atack Kalli While the City Sleeps One Little Indian Mando Diao Ode to Ochrasy Mute Midnight Movies Lion the Girl New Line Patti Smith Twelve Columbia The Veils Nux Vomica Rough Trade/World’s Fair
Apr 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
The Arcade Fire
“World War Three, when are you comin’ for me?” Win Butler of the Arcade Fire poses the question in Neon Bible, which is saturated with natural disasters, social unrest, fundamentalist discontent and the toxic emissions from celebrity culture. Arcade Fire opens its mouth to the world, attempts to swallow it, digest, then spit it back out for our benefit. Fortunately, they pull off the huge feat of addressing cultural and global issues without needing to be punk and without sounding anthematically ridiculous. Stadium act they still are not. Rather, the band has worked on crescendo-ing their status and sound not by venue, but by orchestrating the music into sweeping, gothic proportions which, given their choice of instruments – a pipe organ, accordion, hurdy gurdy and the addition of a military choir and a Hungarian orchestra – seems perfectly appropriate. With a grandiosity that exceeds the debut, Funeral, Neon Bible sweeps in with the sinister staccato rumblings of a piano akin to a cold front before a summer storm, thundering alongside windy string arrangements. Tracks dodge between orchestra pit pop and rock epics, finding gospel-influenced ballads tagged with southwestern brass along the way. As Neon Bible reflects on the situation of “us versus the world,” it comes dangerously close to compacting too much doom and gloom into an album that was definitely meant to deliver a blow, not a nudge; after awhile, the same bruise gets punched. The only respite from the global explosion of chaos is the closing track, “No Cars Go” (re-recorded from a previous EP). The Arcade Fire may have favored ending high and hopeful with a message more about running to freedom than running from global assault.
Apr 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
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 by Amber Herzog
