Nada Surf Cures the Common Cold at the Fine Line

On the day after Thanksgiving, (I believe it to be known as Black Friday) I was tired and felt like a major cold was about to consume me. I had been in the car for 4 hours and was tired. What I needed was to go home, get in my p-jams, and down some Alka Seltzer Cold & Flu. What I got was--Plop, plop, fizz, fizz—a great set from Nada Surf at a semi-packed Fine Line Music Café.

I have been waiting to see Nada Surf since 2003, when they dropped their 3rd album, Let Go. (My schedule never matched up with theirs, until now.) It was worth the wait. Matthew Caws, Ira Elliot, and Daniel Lorcahe all hit the stage with great energy and excitement for the crowd assembled. (Matthew later declared The Fine Line as one of their favorite places to play.) I gladly followed the boys as their set ebbed and flowed through their melancholy softer tunes, like "Inside Of Love" and "Your Legs Grow" into their rocking melodic pop songs such as, "Whose Authority" and "Do It Again." Of course, a highlight for me was when they played their mid-90’s hit, "Popular." I was immediately taken back to my pubescent years in high school — a good visit down memory lane, but I’m glad I don’t have to go back. It is definitely not my favorite song in their library of tunes, but one I’m glad I got to hear live. The boys kept their momentum all the way through to the end when they finished their encore with "Blankest Year" — a song that was my anthem for a better part of a year in college.

It is always a bit of a gamble when you see a favorite band for the first time. Will they live up to what you expect, or will they disappoint? Luckily, Nada Surf didn’t let me down. They are an excellent live band who enjoys what they do. Ira even threw some comical comments out to us from behind his drum set, showing his enjoyment of the show. I’ve never really seen that from a drummer. Unfortunately, Matthew and Daniel didn’t really interact with each other. Was Life on the road getting to them or did one of them hog all the stuffing the day before? Who knows? Either way, they played a great show and I am very glad that I wasn’t a pansy who stayed home to nurse my approaching illness. In fact, Nada Surf was just what the doctor ordered (sorry, I couldn’t help myself). The next morning I felt great, as if the boys and their infectious music had cured me. Thank you Nada Surf for saving me a trip to the medicine isle at Walgreens.

As a side note, I unfortunately missed the first opening band, The Jealous Girlfriends. I did, however, catch Delta Spirit, the second in the line up, and I highly recommend this group from California. You should definitely check out their album Ode to Sunshine.

Review by guest writer Jake Lindgren.

Download mp3s by Nada Surf:
See These Bones
Do It Again
Blankest Year
Blonde on Blonde

Western Fifth - CD review & interview

Listening to Western Fifth’s recent release Stand Like a Thief is a little like dancing that achingly fleeting slow dance with the girl (or guy, depending) that you almost but never quite asked out in high school. This is not to say by any means that the music itself evokes high school – it feels more like the late nights spent on porches across America at the end of a party where those remaining are a little too drunk to get home and so sit, smoke cigarettes and wait for sobriety or dawn, whichever comes first. Add those two (somewhat disparate) elements together and you’ll get a basic approximation of this encompassing and enjoyable debut offering.

When put onto I-Tunes, the Genre listed is “Country,” which lead me to wonder who makes the determination of the genre. Does the band get to decide what their genre is? If asked to pick a genre for Western Fifth, I’d probably offer up some strange hybrid like post-country shoe-gaze indie rock, which doesn’t fit in the genre box on I-Tunes, so it’s probably best that no one asked me. The band has an interesting and rewarding way of reminding the listener of a different band with every listening. Upon repeat visits, I have uncovered sounds and songs influenced or reminiscent of Wilco, The Walkmen (see below for why this isn’t an influence), Okkervil River, and surprisingly upon my most recent listen – a dose of early Jakob Dylan and the Wallflowers. Listen to the burst of organ on the their third track “In the End I Went Away” and see if you can disagree.

Cake in 15 was lucky enough to secure an exclusive email interview with Western Fifth’s singer/guitar player Ryan Holweger! While the fact that the questions are mostly longer than the answers might call into question my journalistic abilities, I will respond by saying that a) I’m a writer, not a journalist, and b) think of it as an interactive interview/review and you’ll be just fine. Enjoy!

Cake in 15: The first time I listened to the new album all the way through, I was driving between Chicago & Minneapolis, having dropped my fiancée off at the airport to fly off to New York, leaving me on my own for three long weeks. My Ipod got in a fight with the car stereo system and froze. I had brought the "Stand Like A Thief" album along to see how it felt on the road, and due to the sudden loss of Ipod (at 10 am, I might add - Two hours into a six hour drive) I put it in and sped through the Madison area. Would you consider this the best way to listen to the album? If you could chose, when & where would you recommend a listening party for maximum aesthetic & emotional impact?

Ryan Holweger: Although I think listening while driving is a good way to hear this record, it might be better suited for a dimly lit room, a couch, some liquor, and a good set of headphones. I think a good place for a listening party would be a small, cozy dive-bar, or maybe in the living room of an old house.

C15: Do you hate being compared to other bands? For instance, if I said that upon first listen I was instantly reminded of Okkervil River's *Down the River of Golden Dreams*, would you be annoyed or pleased? Would you rather be compared to The Walkmen?

RH: I’d be very pleased with a comparison to Okkervil River (one of my favorite bands). I’ve never heard the Walkmen, so I guess I’m not sure about that. I don’t think I’d ever be annoyed with comparisons to other bands, as long as it holds some merit. I feel that it’s a very effective way to give a reader a good idea on how a band might sound.

C15: Name one band you'd love to be mentioned in the same breath with, as well as one that you'd rather never be compared to again.

RH: I’m not sure if there is one single band I want to be compared to the most, but we are pleased with the different comparisons we’ve had so far (Wilco, Band of Horses, The Replacements, Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Okkervil River, etc). As far as a band we’d never want to be compared to again, I’m not sure I can answer that. I suppose we’d have to be compared to a band that we don’t like before we can hope it never happens again. That being said, I hope no one ever compares us to The Eagles.

C15: The air of melancholia pervades the album - Seeps through the cracks, and many of the lyrics deal with death, love, defiance, or a combination of all three. As artists, do you find that writing in a certain mood helps to articulate your work?

RH: I find that for the most part, the mood definitely has an effect on the writing, in that I typically don’t write unless I’m in a certain mood. If I’m not in that certain mood, then the songwriting doesn’t happen. I rarely just decide to sit down and try write a song – it usually only happens after an idea comes first. That’s not always the case, but generally that’s the way it is.

C15: Do you seek to immerse your listener in the world that you've built, or is it enough to simply offer up a song for the listener to react to however he or she chooses?

RH: I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about like that. For the most part, we just hope the listener will take the time to enjoy the music, and hopefully get something out of it if they choose to – if they become immersed in the song, or the album as a whole, that is even better.

C15: What's next? Where can the Cake in 15 readers find Western Fifth in the near future?

RH: Well, we’ll be playing out around the Twin Cities as usual, hopefully getting some people interested in the new album. We’re also promoting it a bit in Europe and getting some airplay, so we hope to build on that as well, maybe sell some records over there. We’ll probably do another tour sometime next year. This past summer we hit a bunch of Midwestern & southern states (Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Texas, Kansas, Missouri) so hopefully we can go back to those places, and maybe to the East Coast, too.

C15: Thank you! Readers can access the band’s Myspace page here and the album is out and available and highly recommended.

Cloud Cult: Feed the Living

Cloud Cult at The Whole 11/21/2008“…We’re very happy to be back in Minneapolis- it’s been a long time- in Minneapolis- since we’ve played for such an intimate setting, so this is pretty cool. Thanks for being here.” Craig Minowa smiled out at the crowd, sleep-mask askew on his forehead, one bare foot tapping. The band tuned between songs, the painters- Craig’s wife Connie and Scott West- at work producing rainbow-mixed birds and tragically sad women. And then came another song, another rush of noise, another uplift into escape.

Cloud Cult had come back from tour to play one last show before their winter hiatus, and had crammed themselves onto the tiny stage at the Whole. The room in the basement of the University of Minnesota’s Coffman Union is best described by the removal of the “w” from its’ name; a long, low cave of a room. The assembled crowd had sat in patient anticipation, semi-circled like kindergarteners, through the opening set by Jelloslave. The four-piece of two cellos, Indian tables and a drums had played a warm opening set that had people clapping and swaying with occasional burst of surprise and recognition. Even though their regular drummer Greg Schutte was away, he was more than capably subbed by JT Bates, indisputably one of the best and most affable kit-men in Minneapolis. Tripping through mixes and medleys that swung between ragas and covers of the Beatles, Joy Division and closed with a bang with Led Zepplin’s “Whole Lotta Love”.

It’s not hard to give love at a Cloud Cult show, in fact, it is a prime motivation of the band. Unlike some feel-good jam band that their name would seem to imply, this is a serious rock band whose core- Craig and his wife Connie- have traveled through darkness and back into light. It was the sudden death of the Minowa’s 2-year old son in 2002 that galvanized Craig’s songwriting and dedication to the music- working through grief. 2007’s Meaning of 8 was so titled because that would have been the age of the lost boy. It would seem morbid, near exploitative to hold tragedy that close, but without it the escape, the honesty of sharing and hope that so embodies the canon of Cloud Cult would be nowhere near as sublime.

Standing pressed up against the stage with the bass amp by my feet the music literally vibrates against my body, and when I am told that everybody here is a cloud I look around and see other people around me, all intangibly happy and our mouths form the same worlds together and purpose is not something that we need to worry about now. Now we are all together and we know the darkest places of ourselves are not so dark with other people there with you. No, it is not a cult; it is transcendental meditation, Plato’s creation myth of being divided halves looking for our other part, it is meteorological metaphors for turbulent times. It is crystalline sense of purpose, womb of sound, it is rock and roll music. To cop another local band made good, it won’t save you but it can bring you to a place where you can save yourself.

Minowa looked sheepishly out into the audience and apologized- the band is all sick, he said- we have been on tour and passed the same cold back and forth. But, he promises, “we are going to put on the best show possible for you.” From the crowd, someone yells, “You always do!” And we cheer, and they smile, because they love us and we love them.

No One said It Would Be Easy into Chemicals Collide:

RocknRollCupcake: 11/13/2008

Gabriel Kahane at the 400 BarRunning over Gabriel Kahane's biography begs the question- What is he doing at the 400 Bar? The venerable rock n' roll hole doesn't often play host to acts endorsed by Brad Mehldau or whose previous projects include a "country-infused retelling of the story of the Prophet Mohammed". It was in fact, that incongrous mix that was the draw to the 400, especially the promise of hearing Kahane's Craigslistlieder, a cycle of songs based on random Craigslist posts. Kahane played two of the 8 songs, one as an encore, and his confident, light piano playing well accompanied his cabaret-inflected baritone to create songs that were absurd, powerful and human.

Touring in support of his self titled debut album, Kahane spent most of the time playing with his band of multi-instrumentalists and they worked best with songs like "Underberg" whose plaintive arrangement beautifully encapsulated the collapse and love in the lyrics. The backing group, sounding like Sufjan Stevens' orchestra (with whom Kahane has worked) or locally, Spaghetti Western String Company, were so obviously talented that the orchestration often out-shone Kahane as the band leader and overtook the astute lyrics. After the show, when asked about his musical background, Kahane was vague, saying he had studied at Brown and his father was a classical musician- there is no doubt that he is talented- but, he said conspiratorially, "Some of the ringers in the band, they, they've got some serious classical music chops." Keep it all in balance and watch this pop composer to make a mark, by himself and with others.

Gabriel Kahane is available now on iTunes, Amie Street, and eMusic.

Acting in the Times: Shadowlands and Dying City

It is a historic moment in America. It is a moment that is made historic by the confluence of past and present contexts- the immediacy of war and economic crisis, a history of division and an act of coming together. Times like these, days like November 4th, 2008, are days that will marked in grand narratives of nations and culture, they are days too that will be remembered by individuals- we will tell where we were, what we are doing, like we have done since. PostSecret, the ongoing project where people anonymously mail in their deepest secrets to share had an aptly succinct illustration of this confluence of personal and social narrative this week: a letter was sent that read, "November 4th, 2008 will be the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. Barack Obama is our 44th President and I finally caught my cheating/abusive boyfriend red-handed."

Narrative brings me to theatre, which is also where history will have me- seeing two plays this historic week. On the 4th, the night of nights, I went to escape the built up tension (after performing my civic duties of voting, encouraging others to vote and engaging in Starbucks’ illegal coffee-for-votes scheme) at the Guthrie in order to preview Shadowlands. Shadowlands is the story of C.S. Lewis (played by Simon Jones) and the opening of his life as he falls in love with Joy Gresham (Charity Jones), an opinionated American divorcee. It is a love story, set against the backdrop of Lewis' comfortable mid-50s Oxford existence; erudite, clad in tweed, sherries and old boy’s discussions, a wholly safe and neutered space.

The play opens with Lewis at a lectern delivering a speech about the love of god for humanity, a subject that Lewis addressed in many of his writings, from the interventions of Aslan in the Narnia stories to the correspondences of the devil Screwtape. The context of faith and pain is brought forth from the beginning,and as Joy struggles through illness and the love develops and deepens, the refrain that "the happiness then is worth the pain now"- and it's inversion- resonates deeply. The story is one of disruption of a settled life, of pain and reconciliation- a strong universally accessible theme which is reached through the easy and assured presentation. The story is fixed in a time period but is so comfortable in it that we can dissolve that context in favor of the over-arching narrative, and find currently applicable identification.

Parallels, Modern Times after the Jump

Across the river, The Bottling Company, a talented young group of University of Minnesota/ Guthrie Program BFAs (boot camp for Guthrie-aspiring actors, for better or for worse) were closing up their run of Dying City. Penned by Obie-award winning playwright Christopher Shinn and first produced in London in 2006, Dying City is also a play that is also fixed in a specific time and place, but unlike Shadowlands, never manages to transcend that context. Set on two nights and moving fluidly between the two, we see the final night discussion of Craig (Ian Holcomb) and his wife Kelly (Kate Durand) before Craig ships off to Iraq, and the visit of Craig’s gay identical twin Peter (also Holcomb) a year later, during which time, Craig has died. The temporal shift lends itself to some nifty shifts by Ian Holcomb and the terse staging and direction say as much about the discourse around relationships in war as the text does itself.

Dying City purports to be a study of dissolution, betrayal and invasion, but as I type that, I feel like I should be writing a blurb for Days of Our Lives. The plot hinges upon events that have occurred in the not distant memory- upon events in which we are still embroiled- but it never brings itself about to create a narrative critique or build any analytic inferences from events in the context of the world to the story of the play. If we are to believe that play is occurring at a specific point in history, as Iraq, references to Jon Stewart, Tivo and “Law & Order” force us to, then there is precious little space to give themes space to breathe. Shinn does the text no favors by trying to pack in themes- sexual violence is mentioned, but not explored, infidelity, homophobic slurs, suicide, drug abuse, all these things swirl darkly in a play that says that it needs to expands the discourse but condescends to doing so. It is a theatrical trick that comes off as formally executed anger at 2004.

Returning home, I turned to MPR, and there was Dick Gordon wrapping up “The Story”. In response to a listener’s rhetorical query as to why the media was always surprised about the decency of everyday people, Gordon editorialized to the crux of the difference between these two examinations. He said, “in times like these, people’s true stories are what the country needs.” The heart of analysis and criticism is always coming back to the questions- Why This, and Why Now? To make a theme dependent upon context is to weaken it's staying power, but to articulate the story independent of context can make it work in any time and place, and make the moment critical again.

Shadowlands runs November 1 - December 21, 2008 (Opening November 07) on the McGuire Proscenium Stage.

Dying City has closed, but check for future Bottling Company productions.

Random Arcana: Simon Jones as Arthur Dent in the BBC's production of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I thought that C.S. Lewis seemed familiar!

Cake Crumbs... Bits of the D

Tonight one member of Cake in 15 was lucky enough to score a ticket to the Get Out the Vote tour at Roy Wilkins Auditorium in St. Paul. Because we had other plans tonight, we went purely for "the D." Tenacious D, that is. Jack Black and Kyle Gass rocked the house by basically catering to the crowd's desire to hear the most popular tracks from The D's self-titled album. I was running late, I'll admit, so I walked in to "Wonderboy," which made me so very happy. I have a huge closet love of that D album, and I was excited to see it being performed live in front of me.

"Wonderboy"

Of course, it's not Tenacious D without some potential offense, so I hope you're offended with this bit of "Fuck Her Gently." heh.

"Fuck Her Gently"


Overall I found the guys to be amazing live. Just as expected, they put all their energy into their performance. The vocals were clear, the guitars were rockin' and the audience was going nuts. I wish there'd been more, but they ended with probably their biggest and oldest song, "Tribute." Ahhh happy, happy me.

Conor Oberst & the Mystic Valley Band: Hope Over Fear

Conor Oberst & the Mystic Valley Band, First Avenue, 10/29/2008

Given his prolific career over a short lifespan, I should really do a full write-up of Conor Oberst and his new outfit, the Mystic Valley Band. But with Election Day and the Clapperclaw Festival coming up fast, I can't fit much more in my head, so here are just a few brief thoughts on the show:

1)Thank you Billings. Billings, Montana was one of three "hometowns" Oberst called out for the Mystic Valley Band, the other two being Tepoztlan, Mexico, where the disc was cut and good ol' Minneapolis, where he test ran material in a two-day stand at the 400 Bar late last year. But it was in Billings that guitarist Taylor Hollingsworth played with the band for the first time, the extra spark of country lightening to galvanize the band. Hollingsworth had some of the sweetest moments of the night, from the dead sexy barroom lead on "Corina Corina" to the sparse slide to close on "Breezy". Neither would have been out of place on Blonde on Blonde or Modern Times, and was a great example of how talent magnifies talent.

2)The band's the thing, but it rises and falls with the bandleader. After ceding lead to the band as a whole on an enegetic but average "Get Well Cards", Oberst took it all back home for "Cape Canaveral". In blue light and with hushed, forward intensity, he showed why his reputation as a songwriter is so well deserved and why he can draw crowds, and collaborators. The best Conor can be sung holding on to someone else, or trying to hold on to yourself.

3)"Victory's sweet/Even deep in the cheap seats." Living and working for something grander or more expansive than the introspection/narcissm for which he has been previously derided by some has done Oberst good. I won't deny that I was hoping for some of those older songs, knowing that the MVB has been doing "Lua" and "Bowl of Oranges" on the road. But whether it is the band, or getting into politics backing the Obama campaign, Oberst seemed happier, more upbeat than previous incarnations, a pleasure to watch riff around, grownup, earnest and hopeful. And with the stadiums Obama's been packing, there is plenty of good company up there in the nosebleeds.

Setlist
Nikorette
Sausolito
Get Well Cards
Cape Canaveral
Moab
Slowly
I Got a Reason #1
Spoiled
Corina Corina
I Got a Reason #2
NYC
Souled Out
Milk Thistle

Encore
Snake Hill
Sundown
Kodachrome (Paul Simon Cover)
Hospital
Breezy

Classic Conor: "When The President Talks to God". The opening to this video calls it a "music video, only shitty". Like the last 8 years: a President, only shitty. Here comes change.

RockNRollCupcake: 10/28/08

Stanley Jordan Trio, the Dakota, 10/28/2008

This is actually a jazz cupcake, to my delight. I have written before that I don't know understand jazz- but I do understand exuberance, and am impressed (maybe too easily sometimes) by musical precision and virtuosic play. So when Stanley Jordan riffs jazz guitar Mozart, with joyful head bobs and arm flails for emphasis, you will forgive, and understand, the smile across my face.

I was lucky enough to be at the Dakota with an old friend, to whom credit must go for introducing me to jazz back in high school with the works of John McLaughlin, Al DiMeola and Miles' Bitches Brew. We came in with enough time to catch Jordan in his opening solo numbers, sparse high notes scaling up and down, action close to the fretboard, hands almost touching and exerting the minimum visible effort but providing an explosive flow of crisp notes that carried over the rapt silence of the crowd. Not only was he a thrill to listen to, but also to watch; bass notes for added emphasis were played with his chin!

This was full contact, swaying jazz, only intensified with accompaniment from his excellent backing bass and drums. With the band, he moved through asymmetrical covers of Jobim, "Autumn Leaves", and a mean, pulsing jam that opened with bassist Charnett Moffett tackling "Amazing Grace" in a minor key. After the jam and some more solo numbers, Jordan took the mic to talk about his other projects, including a CD of music he had recorded with a music therapist to get him through three days of dental work, Relaxing Music for Difficult Situations, I. Jordan was soft-spoken but effusive; full of talk about the interconnected nature of humanity and the logical progression of "correct action" from the realization that there is only one Earth, not surprising talk from a man who resides in Sedona, Arizona. The trio closed with an original number from the new disc State of Nature entitled "A Place In Space", upbeat, sprawling, full of chaos and hope. Who needs understanding when you've got joy?

*A note on the Dakota: Go there. Get an appetizer or two, catch Nachito Herrera, talk to the awesome staff. Try and convince them to book DeVotchKa, or Beirut, because that would be an amazing show, without compromising the musical ethos of the place. Support homegrown music in all it's forms, even if you have to dress up a little to get it.

Of Montreal Shakes Up First Avenue

Of Montreal is well known for their outlandish stage shows, and their latest at First Avenue definitely fit that description. First Ave's stage was extended about 10 feet into the pit and the barrier was an additional 3 - 4 feet back from that, taking up half the available floor space for the crowd. It makes sense that First Ave pulled the tickets from their outlets early as a result.

Kids in wings, kids in makeup, kids with multicolored hair - they were all there. All bouncing, screaming, and reaching for the man. The one and only Kevin Barnes. The lead singer and face of the band, he's been getting a lot of love and attention lately. Both Rolling Stone and Paste Magazine had big feature stories this month and Of Montreal just released their new album Skeletal Lamping. In other words, the band's been busy.

The show began with gold Buddhas, but included skeletons, people dressed as animals, mythical beasts, warpaint, shaving cream, and a whole lot of feathers. Over the top? Maybe, but if any of these things would've been missing, it wouldn't have been an Of Montreal show. It was an amazing dance fest that included songs from various albums and had the crowd screaming along to every word. The band ended on a high note too; Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit." It was incredibly fun, and all you have to do is check out the slide show below to get a taste of the insanity. Set list after the jump:


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
Click here for Set List

Set List:
Intro
Id Engager
So Begins Our Alabee
Triphallus, to Punctuate!
She's a Rejecter
For Our Elegant Caste
Touched Something's Hollow
An Eluardian Instance
Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse
Gallery Piece
Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games
Women's Studies Victims
St. Exquisite's Confessions
Eros' Entropic Tundra (Sad Love)
Nonpareil of Wisdom
October is Eternal
Wicked Wisdom
Disconnect the Dots
Knight Rider
And I've Seen a Bloody Shadow
Plastis Wafer
Beware Our Nubile Miscreants
Mingusings
Konsvinger

ENCORE
(Anyone keep track of the first two encore songs?)
Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana Cover)

RockNRollCupcake: 10/23/2008

*Some nights you just want a quick snack- it's easier, with less prep and clean-up involved. It really hits the spot right around midnight. In that vein, we present RockNRollCupcake, a tasty text morsel with a dollop of photo frosting. Perfect for late nights, or early mornings, and general noshings.

The Rumble Strips with Birdmonster and Marvelle, 7th St Entry, 10/23/2008


With a name like Marvelle, you've gotta be thinking the Shirelles, or Patti LaBelle, or at least "I-put-a spell" vinyl Camaro cock-rock. But nope. The local outfit is a drums-bass-electric-violin combo trafficking in a heavy metal inflected with King Crimson and Eastern European folk dance (courtesy of John Holm's violin). Accompanied by a live painter who is listed as a band member on their Myspace, and with songs that sounded as though the bassist may have been reading aloud from The Lord Of The Rings, much of the early part of the set seemed to call for being epicly stoned, circa 1976. Their last two songs tightened up and showed a promise of clarity with the violin scaling several octaves and a classic drum-lead rat-a-tat repartee to go out on a bang.

NOM NOM NOM


I was blank on Birdmonster before the show, but they left the stage having won another fan. Granted, I may be soft for uncomplicated but layered guitar rock, but the boys from San Francisco were all smiles from stage and upbeat, cathartic. They delivered with lots of peppy dancing, and there were shifts enough to show of some sweet rhythm guitar lines and folky vocal breaks in the vein of other indie outfits like Bishop Allen or the now-defunct Page France. Birdmonster is now touring behind their new release From The Mountain To The Sea, and it's a friendly, appealing disc. Let the kids have their stage, and moment in the light.


The Rumble Strips did not, as David Klein of Birdmonster informed us, come from New Jersey. They came from England and sounded, to quote an unnamed source, "like the Bosstones from Brighton." Not so flattering; the horns were there and some nice trills & frills, but it seemed like half a show, half-hearted, like frontman Charlie Waller's half-finished pompadour. I checked out after the first couple songs, because for the best of Merry Olde England, there was a Richard Hawley CD waiting for me at home.

Video: Birdmonster's "Iditarod" video!


Bonus: Richard Hawley's video for "Tonight the Streets are Ours". Election Day is around the corner!

Yael Naim: The Joy of Speaking in Tongues

After winning tickets to see Yael Naim at the Cedar Cultural Center, I confess not being wholly sold or thrilled. "Cute," I thought to myself, "another international artist getting sales boost from the Mac advertising juggernaut. File under CSS and the Ting Tings." I have to not be so snarky with myself (although sometimes it works- you just have to know when to admit you're wrong.)

Naim, who is French-Israeli and speaks with a laughing lilt, came onstage with her backing band (David Donatien on percussion and chief arrangement, Laurent David on bass, and Xavier Tribolet on keys) and announced that they had "done a long road from Paris, where we recorded this album in a very small apartment." The group then broke into pop-jazz numbers, led by Naim on guitar and accompanied by full synth (and somehow, very French) backing keys. The opening tracks contained a hint of Naim's vocal range, but as she went over to the the upright piano, the Cedar employee carrying up a mug confirmed that she might have been fighting against the odds. Once at the keyboard though, she announced that she was going play a cover song by an unnamed friend and then began to playfully tap out a melody, singing a husky bar-room chanson that grew in scope and abandon. The song became grander, Naim's pipes stretched and bent, hung with anticipation and then unlocking its warmth, like being let in on a pop culture joke. The song was "Toxic," the unnamed friend was Britney Spears.

Language as a means of communication after the jump!

Try not to get swept along with a woman self-deprecating enough to do a full throated cover of "Toxic," or who will mix up French and English in "Game Is Over," by declaring that she's "seen the lumiere" - or unafraid to call her younger self pretentious, as she did while introducing "New Soul," the track of Mac fame. When she sang "Paris," a whirl of a love song to the city in French and Hebrew, she laughed that you would hear some "ch-ch-ch" sounds. "Why Do We" asked the question of why do we fall in love, and why do we hurt each other so, complete with accordion reeling into conga breakdowns, Middle-Eastern inflected rhythm, and spacing that gave Donatien, David and Tribolet their chance to shine. Throughout the night she was effusive and ebullient, cajoling singing out of the crowd, who sang with trepidation but applauded with abandon.

Standing in the back of the Cedar watching Naim onstage, a litany of referents flowed from her music. The notepaper I was scribbling on became filled with other musicians and song snippets in my attempt to triangulate her. It is a testament to the Cedar that some of the best comparisons came from shows that I had seen there: Annie Clark of St. Vincent, and Keren Ann - another Parisienne songstress. Still, it was exhausting editing it all down, because the show was so singularly full of light, funny and hopeful, and then the thought struck. There are people who are just themselves because they are so unique they are unclassifiable, and there are those who are so expansive that they seem to come from all directions. These sets are by no means mutually exclusive - especially not when you are talking in three distinct languages but conversing in one universal idiom.

Setlist
Far Far
Too Long
Toxic
The Only One
Dire
Paris
Yashanti
Endless Song of Happiness
Find Us
Why Do We
Man Of
New Soul
Game Is Over

Also: Slideshow with more of Staciaann Photography's photos at CityPages.com!

Tangentially related: The Cedar hosts Jolie Holland this Saturday, which is spiffy. Even spiffier is opener Herman Dune, a laid back folkie whose funnyman music videos are directed by my friend of a long time past, Toben Seymour. Check out this little gem for "My Home is Nowhere Without You":

TV On The Radio: Uplifting Serious

Here's the thing about TV On The Radio- they are in equal measure serious, musical, complex, obscure and at their show you can chuck that all out the window and dance. That's actually not accurate: the layered harmonies, heavy percussion and tempo changes are the main reason you want to move so hard. It's not an ironic self-awareness like Beck or a conscious push towards dancing fun like the Go Team, TVOTR bless the show with a hypnotic sway- vocalist Tunde Adebimpe jitterbugging, hands fluttering, guest instrumentalist Stuart Bogie jumping up and down and the all-ages crowd at First Ave Tuesday night spinning all over like a weighted top. Adebimpe told the crowd after "Dirtywhirl," "Thanks for dancing- that's encouraging for the future of the world." The amount of sheer danceability almost problematizes how serious TVOTR as a band, and how far they push themselves and their audiences.

As Adebimpe whipped up a frenzy, guitarist/producers Kyp Malone and David Andrew Sitek held the heavy end down, pushing layered drones and sirens while Jaleel Bunton on drums and Gerard Smith on keys kept the foundations shifting forward. Material from the brand-spanking new Dear Science was played close enough to the record so as to ensure recognition, and the crowd perked up to the almost Prince-inflected (and subject of absurd but serious but mythic but kitch video) "Golden Age" and the upbeat but dark "Crying" that Adebimpe attacked like a modern "Subterranean Homesick Blues" - and Malone with his Ginsburgian beard fit right in.

Sounds, Setlists & Side Projects after the jump!

It was the re-imagining of tracks from 2006's smash Return to Cookie Mountain that was revelatory of the adventurous spirit. This was a disc that started off with the lyric "I was a lover before this war," a definitive statement grounded in the times but expansive. As Malone noted before "Blues From Down Here," "I wrote a song in the past about now." The re-orchestrations distilled the best parts of that heavily layered disc; Adebimpe's bass vox, Malone's high tenor, a riff and hook and then all else exploded with new possibility. "Wolf Like Me" became a a series of layered tonalities over which Adebimpe roared, "A Method" was totally stripped down to an organ melody and a clatter, with as many shakers, blocks, and tambourines the band could get their hands on. They even had openers The Dirtbombs come back out to give them a hand.

Detroit's The Dirtbombs were a revelation in their own right. A long standing band, laboring for years in rock and roll obscurity, you could trace lineage far-flung from garage punk to Bootsy Collins in their sound. They drove it hard, as a band from the Motor City should. Frontman Mick Collins and guitar/vox Ko Mellina had a great Frank Black/Kim Deal exchange going on, and Collins would on occasion break apart a song with noises from his guitar that would make it seem as though an electrical current was passing directly through him. That's no bad thing, and they were heartily endorsed several times by TVOTR from stage - "Now you know," Malone remarked. It's not in the darkness or dourness that something becomes serious or important, but in the care, the sharing, and the pleasure separating itself out from pain.

Setlist
Young Liars
Wrong Way
Golden Age
Crying
Halfway Home
Wolf Like Me
Dirtywhirl
Stork & Owl
Shout Me Out
Dancing Choose
Blues From Down Here
Satellite

Encore
Family Tree
A Method
Let The Devil In
Staring

Check out: TVOTR as Photo of the Week at www.HowWasTheShow.com

Also: Kyp Malone announces new releases with side project Iran. [Via Pitchfork]

And: Kyp Malone engages in some songwriting/free associative beat poetry/dressing down of hecklers at Cake Shop in 2007.

Cold War Kids: Heavier on Record

Cold War Kids aren't Sunny Cali-forn-i-yay. They come from Nixon's stomping grounds, where the California sun has a bitter and unrepentant glare and this honest, crushing constancy is embodied in the best Cold War Kids songs. The narratives wrap you in and push you through a sharp lens, like a John Cheever short story. Whether it's the opening crash of "We Used to Vacation" and the announcement from Nathan Willett that he's "just an honest man/provide for me and mine" to the wail that "Nobody gave us names/Like Mexican dogs" from "Mexican Dogs," you cannot fault CWK for their ambitious story telling.

Sometimes though, as at the Fine Line Music Cafe, crammed to uncomfortable capacity with brosephs and yuppies, earnest examination becomes performative and gimmicky. Playing with the lights off and shining Maglite flashlights into the crowd seemed less sinister and more like rowdy campers trying to tell ghost stories. The "whi-wh-whites of your eyes" from "Hang Me Up to Dry" ceased to have a frustrated anger and became rote. Yes, the crowd cheered and sang along to "Vacation," "Hospital Beds," and "Hang" - no doubt due in part to the generous radio play received by those songs. Yes, you can expect songs from the break-out album to be better recognized. But these songs also sounded better live than offerings from the newly released Loyalty to Loyalty. "Something Is Not Right With Me" came off as shrill and solipsistic, "Coffee Spoons" had me looking around for Nick Urata of DeVotchKa to do a better version, and "Mexican Dogs" sounded like a dime-a-dozen guitar quartet.

Cliffhanger Criticism Continues!

Which may be the crux of dissatisfaction with the new release - it seems to have jettisoned the jittery pool-hall piano blues in favor of layered guitars that simply are not as compelling. The keys gave CWK a channel to the hard-boiled American stories by the likes of Skip James and were a broken, angular, percussive composition that lent the boys from sunny Cali a gravitas. Opener AA Bondy (written about previously in Cake In 15 here) kept his songs grounded in that more conventional American bluesman trope, but leavened it with his ironic wit and simple backing built upon amped guitars and fuzz. Bondy's American Heart release isn't as ambitious as the Cold War Kids and so his straightforward performance came across more easily, with more focus.

Not that CWK put on a bad show by any measure - watching bassist Matt Maust wheel around and stroke out low dark tones was like watching an Egon Schiele drawing in motion, and guitarist Jonnie Russell with drummer Matt Aveiro ably held their own and drove the tempo. Still, the weight of these disappointments and the heft of the crowd pushed me out into the alleyway, where the night was mild and a little smoky, and snippets of people's lives came in from conversations and spilled drinks on all sides. And when Willett and Co. came back out for an encore of "St. John," it came out crackling, a little distant, then picked itself up off the bricks and danced hard.

Free downloads from Loyalty to Loyalty here, courtesy of RCRDLBL.

"St. John" from the Takeaway Shows by La Blogotheque:

Fleet Foxes at the Cedar Cultural Center

Fleet Foxes are a band that come along so rarely. My father and I can listen to the album together without either one wincing. For him, it brings back memories of The Kingston Trio or The Lettermen with the harmonies pouring forth from mouths. For me, it's 360 degrees of amazing musicianship. A beautifully updated version of the past. It brings the word pastoral to mind not because of any subject matter the songs use, but more because I imagine myself in rolling hills shepherding sheep. Relaxing under the moon. Breathing life.

This band connects with many, as evidenced by the mixed crowd at the Cedar Cultural Center on a warm fall night. The two sold-out shows were hot, sweaty, and wonderful. Lead singer Robin Pecknold peppered the crowd with quips and queries. The audience members had no problem responding to some odd looks Pecknold would assume at various points throughout the evening. The entire band was not only musically stunning, but almost as equally entertaining. They interacted with each other well, playing off comments about the Rock the Vote bus parked outside (their "Straight Talk Express"). They wondered aloud why anyone would be happy with a "Joe six-pack" in the White House... "who wants to be called the lowest common denominator?" They giggled while talking about Pecknold removing his shirt to ease the profuse sweat pouring down his face. They discussed the brand name "Celestial Seasonings," and joked about and with each other during their tenure on stage.

At one point during the show all band members save Pecknold left the stage. What occurred I can't explain, but maybe can be shown by a sub par You Tube video. The sound, of course, isn't the greatest, but it's not bad. Maybe it will give you a hint of what the audience enjoyed.

After this short solo set, the band rejoined Pecknold on the stage. They glided through the songs on their self-titled album, and the crowd was blissfully silent. It was a show that left me happily floating, ready to go out into the cool air and home to a loved one.

Full Photo Set here.

Download mp3:
White Winter Hymnal

The New UnCool

The first time I heard Ben Folds Five was on the radio – Back when kids used to listen to the radio and Top 40 was at least two years away from taking over along with its Clear Channel poison. The song was “Battle of Who Could Care Less,” and within a few days I had ordered the album through BMG. A little later, “Brick” hit the airways and wouldn’t go away, but I had already memorized the album and it hardly mattered that it had an overplayed single. That, plus I made out for the FIRST TIME with a girl named Sarah from Warroad, MN with Ben Folds Five playing in the background. I was fourteen years old and it was beautiful. Six years later, Sarah would be a lesbian (no joke!), and Ben Folds Five would be simply “Ben Folds,” already on the long slide down into hipster hatedom.

On September 11th – You know, thee September 11th, I had pre-existing plans of going to buy Ben’s new album “Rocking the Suburbs.” Classes were cancelled by noon, and after a few hours of watching smoking remnants and frenzied newscasters in New York, I wandered across campus to (the former) No Name Records only to find that they had sold out all the albums in stock, and due to the fact that no planes were being allowed to fly anywhere in America, would not have a new stock in until things got less “crazy” in the world. I went to four record stores that day, on foot, walking across a quiet shocked Minneapolis in search of the album, which I finally found and purchased at CD Warehouse… a place I rarely went due to lack of selection and over-all cheerlessness. That, plus they charge too much.

I went home to the dorms and devoured the album, playing it over and over again – Those opening power chords of “Zak and Sara” still make me feel that everything (regardless of what everything might be) will be, eventually, all right.

Subsequent albums were somewhat of a let-down in the face of the immediacy of “Rocking the Suburbs,” and so it was with a bit of reluctance that I stopped by the Electric Fetus to buy his brand-new Way To Normal yesterday afternoon and listened to it while I cooked gnocchi (the freeze-dried easy to prepare kind) and waiting for Katie Rose to come home from work. I wasn’t sure if it was cool to like Ben Folds anymore… No one looked at me weird at the Fetus when I bought it, but usually I get comments on ‘what a great album’ it is when I buy new junk, and this one was met with stolid silence. I wondered momentarily if this is what happened to Elton John fans in the ‘80’s. Elton was rockin’ too, remember that? Then he got chubby and elegiac.

I am pleased to report, however, that the new Ben Folds album is pretty good. It’s not great, it’s not even close to perfect, but it has enough sparkly piano and upbeat irony-clad sentiment that I look forward to going home tonight and spinning it again, bouncing around the room to that big-production synth-n-string backed power pop. It’s probably very un-cool, but I’m okay with that. It makes things seem retrospectively “all right.”

Stream Way to Normal via Spinner here.

Live blogging from MGMT / Beck at the Roy Wilkins

Well kids. There's generally good news and bad news in every story. While MGMT were better tonight than the last time I saw them, it means little when most of the betterment comes from a big stage and light show that's meant for headliner Beck. The show wasn't as sloppy or annoying, but actually proved to be... well, boring. The guitar work still wasn't anything to rave about, and their biggest "hit" Time to Pretend lacked any punch. The tune is still one of my favs to blast from my car radio while driving around with the windows down, but live it lacked the lustre even my car speakers add. It makes one a bit sick when there are better bands who provide gallons of entertainment, yet remain for the most part, unrecognized by the masses. Here's hoping Beck is a better time.

8:40pm: Beck just started, opening with 'Loser,' and the crowd is finally pulsating. His stage setup is sparse, but the lights on stage are pretty sweet - like old Hollywood set lights. I have to admit this is better than I expected.

8:58pm: Timebomb! Nah nah nah nah!

9:05pm: The rest will probably have to wait until I'm home. Stupid phone battery! Also, the backdrop is pretty sweet - changing constantly, with photos in pixelated black and white.

9:31pm: Jed from Mpls is kicking tambourine ass and taking names. Hilarious!! Devil's Haircut now!

9:53pm: Seriously?! Lost Cause followed by Where It's At? Holy shit!!! I can die happy (well Beck-wise anyway).

10:00pm: Crowd going ballistic for an encore. Damn. Forgot my earplugs. I am going to be so deaf. It is the drummer's (Scott) birthday and crowd is all singing Happy Birthday. There's a cake on the drumset. Beck points to Scott and says "Now play!" Cute.

10:08pm: Beck thanks MGMT for opening. Starts playing one of their songs, but "I can't sing that high." hee

10:58pm: Home! Good show. Beck did well and made it all enjoyable. It wasn't the best show I've been to, but it was decent entertainment for a Tuesday night. Woot!

Vinegar Tom: The Devil Within

Finally got down to the Ritz to see Frank Theater's production of Vinegar Tom, a mid-1970's play by British playwright Caryl Churchill. We were there on an auspicious night, too. As we sat in the audience, across the river Frank Artistic Director Wendy Knox received an Ivey Award for directing The Pillowman, last season's moving, grotesque triumph at the Guthrie Dowling Studio.

Vinegar Tom is another biting, engaging romp that Knox and her troupe of Brecht-loving thespians revel in. This work ostensibly deals with the story of women accused of being witches, but through Churchill's pen and Knox's directing becomes a still prescient feminist critique. And yes, given the recent political climate, it is still a vigorous issue for exploration.

Starting with a sex scene and unraveling from there, banter turns to squashed desire and anger becomes suspicion, faith becomes a tool, and the whole dehumanizing thing sets itself in motion. You don't need inventions and fantasy here, most of this stuff is straight history, but with appropriate and effective theatrical punctuation. Frank is a company from whom I have come to expect engaging performances, but it should not go without saying that the company turns in a great show, especially Lori Neal as the Cunning Woman, a healer whose hope for a positive view of her work is undercut by the reality of the play. Complete with modern songs, direct address to the audience and a final scene twist whose image is jarring but whose scene that had me laughing and biting my lip, it's a heady ride, and something to think about before the accusations fly.

Adult Ticket Prices: $25 on Friday and Saturdays, $22 on Thursday and Sundays

Students, Seniors, Groups of 10+: $23 on Friday and Saturdays, $20 on Thursday and Sundays

Performances Dates:
Showing for four weekends September 12-October 5

Go to the Ritz Theater (www.ritztheaterfoundation.org) website for more information.

Kristoff Krane: For These Reasons, We Love Each Other

Kristoff Krane (born Chrisopher M. Keller) has the widest eyes. When he speaks, he pulls you in close and his words come out fast, enumerating possibilities and navigating multiple narratives easily. He is about to drop his first solo disc Kristoff Krane: This Will Work For Now and THE OTHER, a full book of his writing; documents of a man living in his own moment.

“I had this epiphany,” he says of the genesis of the disc. In the winter of 2007, Abzorbr (Krane with Graham and Casey O’Brien) was asked to go on tour with Eyedea and Abilities. When the O’Briens were unable to go, Kristoff went out by himself, playing some Abzorbr tracks and building his own sound;

“On the road, I started to realize, I had this epiphany…performing in front of people who are here for something, this experience is pointing me in the direction of tackling that part of me that has always doubted how much I am capable of…..I wanted to create something musically for myself, that was totally all me. I wanted to create this piece of expression, or this collective of expression that is solely based off of me overcoming the doubt that I had in myself to do this thing.”

More love after the jump!.

He tackled it head on over the next months, quitting his job, living only to work on music and writing. He enlisted the help of Ecid, Michael Larsen (Eyedea) and Casey O’Brien to help him learn Reason and ProTools and took charge of his own beats and production. He has been hitting the streets promoting his shows, talking to people, building up fans. “Yeah,” Kristoff says, “I was at the Cecil Otter show, ‘cause I knew there would be 400 people there willing to listen to a guy talk about his feelings.”

It’s not just feelings that are on display on This Will Work For Now. Krane is a story-teller, a hugger, a teacher (yes, professionally - some of his students will perform at his CD release show) and songs like “Miracle?”, “Little Willy” and “Paul Still Loves his Daughter” are standout narratives whose arc circumscribe Kristoff Krane’s own outlook without becoming solipsistic. He also has his friends with him, putting up impressive collaborations with “Is It Right?” and “The Phoenix,” bringing along a who’s-who of local avant garde/backpack/what-have-you rappers. There is some over-abundance of sharing on the disc, clocking in at 19 tracks, but Krane keeps his beats tailor-tight and his quick patter moving in new and surprising directions. It's hip-hop that keeps us warm, and keeps the Twin Cities honest.

Of his aspirations for the disc, he notes, smilingly, “They already know that I know that you know it’s not John Lennon or it’s not Kimya Dawson, this is what it is.” And it is powerful, confident in honest grappling, forward looking. Eyes still wide, he declares, “This album, I feel, is always going to be working for the now.”

Kristoff Krane CD release show: Friday September 19, 2008
7th Street Entry
All Ages Show at 5pm
21+ at 9pm
$6 both shows
with Oliver Hart Acoustic Set (Eyedea), DialSystem (Graham and Casey O’Brien), Hyder Ali, Mr Dufaux and special guests including Satori Jewelry.

Kristoff Krane online: myspace.com/wwwmyspacecomkristoffkrane

Interview with Kristoff Krane via Perfect Porridge here.

City On The Make: My Sweet Little Rock n Roll

I told you to go and I told you to go and I told you to go.

And you didn't and you're sad, because you missed it. Or you didn't. You can check out the torrent via the fabulous Empty's Tapes blog (emptystapes.blogspot.com) and here is some video, ice for your bitter tear-drop whiskey.


Encore- Howlin' at a Sliver of the Moon

Still not in that blessed oblivion where you forget the howling loss in the maw of your belly? You can catch City On The Make live on the Current's Local Show, 5-6pm, Sunday the 14th. So rub that salt on the lime of your tequila shot of despair.

Langhorne Slim at the 400 Bar: Free to Love Me, Love You

Sold at the 400 bar Wednesday night, Langhorne Slim quickly tops my list of "Acts I Would Rather See Perform Than Ryan Adams". Without the self-serious temperament of the Cardinals frontman, Langhorne's country sneer was leavened by his wholly light attitude; self-assurance mixed with self-deprecation. The fact that he can cut a mean rug, whipping around on his little pins and stomp it out just sweetens the deal.

It's not all just dancing and smiles though, the music itself is moving. The paroxysms of Langhorne's country-picked guitar coupled with seamless vocal switches between folk sweet, country grave, tender falsetto lift worn love stories and plain poetry from engaging to sublime. Coupled with the War Eagles, Paul Defiglia on bass and Malachi DeLorenzo on drums, they formed an unstoppable whirlwind with Defiglia's muscular solos and DeLorenzo's sensitive yet ebullient combination of brushes and bass kicks. There is a wonder in the coming together of incongruence and contradiction, manifesting itself all around, in Defiglia's Texas-shaped bling, the tattoo reading "you are alive" on his left bicep, DeLorenzo unabashedly coming out from the greenroom smoking a cigarette.

The confidence of the live show could not be doubted, nor could the excitement of the audience. People in attendance chattered about all the other times they had seen him, the blue-collar boys in hockey caps hooted out song requests whilst the alt-country hipsters kept their bulgy eyes fixed on stage. Their excitement paid off in rapport; everyone broke down in laughter when Langhorne crooned "I need your lovin' so bad", took a dramatic pause and some scallywag responded "Yoo-hoo". Unable to contain himself, Slim went on a tangent about his grandparents, and then back to playing, giggling. Ryan Adams would have stalked off.

Langhorne Slim official MySpace here.

Download free mp3s:
Rebel Side of Heaven
Daytrotter session here.
Photos by Alexa Jones