I have called myself a fervent Lightning Bolt fan for, I dunno, seven years or so – around the time Wonderful Rainbow raped my brain sometime during the first Bush administration. But through a series of unfortunate events (much like my Flaming Lips story), I kept missing them at every opportunity I had. Wednesday night, that gnarly streak was broken forever, and moreover, I had a completely new understanding of Lightning Bolt after seeing them in the flesh. Specifically, I came to realize that Lightning Bolt is essentially the Memento of contemporary music – that is to say, the band completely functions backwards – out of both expression and necessity. While you can hear all the nuances in Brian Gibson’s decibel shredding on record, Gibson’s fluid bass maneuvering live is as stoic as his demeanor, acting as the foil to Brian Chippendale’s rapid fire ADHD rhythm section. This sonic space in the live setting is completely filled by constant machine-gun drumming, whereas conventional rock wisdom tells you to do it the other way around – more active guitars and bass, more steady percussion. In addition, the aerial shots below happened because I watched the show…. from the stage. While the band played on the floor. This simple yet unequivocally remarkable idea is what makes Lightning Bolt one of the most vital and relevant artists performing today. Also, they fucking tore Southgate House up. I felt like ass on Thursday after essentially being beaten aurally and physically amid the delightful panic of the Lightning Bolt live experience. “Dracula Mountain,” “Colossus,” and “Dead Cowboy” excerpts are below. Pay attention around the four minute mark in “Dead Cowboy,” when Chippendale’s drum kit is (literally) absorbed into the crowd, and is reassembled in about 10 seconds. Impressive. Also pay attention to rad shirtless dude during “Colossus.” That’s real talk.

MP3 :::
Lightning Bolt – 2 Towers

MP3 :::
NEU! – ‘72 Non-Public Test [Part 2]

We’re very excited to be one of the sites selected to host the virtual screening of Mogwai’s new concert film, Burning. The online event kicks off at 3 p.m. EST on Tuesday, July 27th (8 p.m. GMT) right here on the front page with an introduction by Stuart Braithwaite of Mogwai and director Vincent Moon. The film, which documents Mogwai’s three night residence at Brooklyn’s Music Hall of Williamsburg in April 2009, officially begins screening stateside in select markets in late August, so this is the first opportunity you’ll have to see this film. Along with the film, we’ll be hosting a chat widget that will allow you to ask Stuart and Vincent questions for a post film Q&A and discussion. Seriously cool and smart idea from the Mogwai camp, and we’re stoked to participate.

Be here next Tuesday!

MP3 :::
Mogwai – New Paths to Helicon Pt. I

Suck it, Devendra Banhart. Dreamy freak folk has a new sheriff in town, and it ain’t big enough for the both of ‘ye – so get! You can’t be a self-styled “freak” and hang with A-list celebs, so you done forfeit your freak folk camp privileges a straight minute ago. But who’s taking up this coveted post? It’s none other than a conservatively dressed and mild mannered young Californian by the name of J Irvin Dally. He doesn’t have to convince you of his status as a nomadic wild-eyed prophet in dress and demeanor – the music does that on its own. Dally’s handful of home-recorded demos demolish the bedroom walls, creating some of the most expansive, adventurous, and impressive electric experimental folk I’ve heard in quite some time – and that’s no hyperbole. The foundation of Mr. Dally’s free floating dirges is built upon the aesthetics of torch ballads and Dally’s distinctive and rustic vocals, reaching upward toward the heavens in washes of ornate tape noise, reverb, and silky psychedelic textures. While many of his songs stay true to a cohesive vibe, you can subtly hear the dynamic range of Dally’s orchestrated yet understated songwriting, and it’s simply astounding. We submit the exclusive “Punchbowls” to you – a six minute exploration of angelic dream states and dusty desert roads, as well as the grainy and rollicking “Salt Water” from his independently released EP Despistado. If this dude is not picked up by a big indie label soon, they’re all assholes – Dally is poised to drop some science. Visit J Irvin at Bandcamp.

For fans of:  Fairport Convention, Jana Hunter, The Incredible String Band, Ariel Pink

MP3 :::
J Irvin Dally – The Punchbowls
J Irvin Dally – Salt Water

Yes yes y’all, just got a new edition to the Bear in Heaven and Shedding show happening in two weeks – straight from the Worst Coast (New Jersey) comes the mighty Slow Animal. Blog bros have been wetting themselves over the group’s debut self-titled EP – one of the most enigmatic and promising debuts of the year. Fuck yeah beach rock? Not exactly. There’s an acute sophistication to their precise ’60s garage doo wop – more Jesus and Mary Chain by way of Cloud Nothings than the Phil Spector groups or Black Tambourine. This is the mature older sibling of your fun in the sun bands, providing a complimentary, zone altering about-face to the more pensive, emotionally complex Bear In Heaven and Shedding.

“Really vibing on these ultra-simple but highly effective garage rock jams from New Jersey legends Slow Animal, who have chosen to share almost nothing about themselves with the internet (hella enigmatic). One thing they have chosen to share is, um, the entirety of their debut EP, which is the kind of punk rock four song classic that everyone subconsciously spends their whole life waiting around for.” – Rose Quartz

“[Slow Animal] is is all bitterly romantic razorwire guitar shredding and drawling, down-in-the-mouth miscreant-melody; cracked vocals whooping and hollering as one through remorseless, soiled white noise and hi-hat molestation as two wonderful runaways screaming half-dreamt teenage wall-punching anthems until hoarse; heads hanging out the windows of a battered old rust-bucket forever spinning doughnuts on endless suburban grass.” – Transparent

Sunday August 1st – U KNO WUT 2 DO

POSSIBLY RELEVANT :::
The Decibel Tolls Presents BEAR IN HEAVEN with SHEDDING

MP3 :::
Slow Animal – Saturday Morning

I don’t know what started it all, but this new wave of abstract lounge music is the fuckin ticket right now. My current main jam disc is the new album from MICKEY MICKEY ROURKE. If you were to take the sound palette from Air or Sebastien Tellier and give it to some vaguely scatterbrained bedroom maestro, he might make something similar to Mickey’s new album MMR. It’s equal parts warped and gorgeous, presented in a series of bright collage, reminding me of sorta like a really DIY version of Another Green World.  You can check out all of Mickey’s cuts from MMR on bandcamp.

MP3 :::
MICKEY MICKEY ROURKE – DREAMCAST

Forecastle Festival, now in its ninth year, certainly came a long way from its humble origins as an environmental awareness plus folk music party in Tyler Park. While the organization still tries to stay true to its roots as an “art and activism” festival, the idea of Forecastle finds itself in a tough spot. It’s challenging trying to balance bringing in A-list headliners that extend far outside the drum circle with honoring its mission statement and folksy image (Forecastle is the only annual summer festival personified by one figurehead – festival founder and local personality JK McKnight). Packing 30,000 people in a large city park running immeasurable wattage is hard. Trying to offset that carbon footprint is really hard, even with disposable corn-based plastic cups and solar panels. Was it successful in that regard, while being successful as a large national festival? More on that later, after the jump.

I’m pleased to say that, for the first time ever, The Decibel Tolls can celebrate photography that’s worth a shit. For this special occasion, I was able to borrow an awe inspiring Canon 5D with a 24-70 lens. No shitty pictures this time, folks, I rolled legit. Within a few months, I should have some money saved to own my own rowdy SLR camera. Here are photos and thoughts on the artists I caught on July 9th, 10th, and 11th, in no particular order.

Devo were absolutely astonishing. Their energetic presence and psychedelic visual show coupled with their infamous retro-futuristic sheen and art punk ethos proved that they are every bit as relevant today – perhaps even more. You could close your eyes and be transported to an LCD Soundsytem show or whatever – except it’s Devo, and they did it two decades prior. Devo’s finest were all included in the setlist – “Girl You Want,” “Gates of Steel,” “Jocko Homo,” the post punk anthem “Uncontrollable Urge,” and other monumental jams. Of course they played “Whip It,” but were smart to perform the song nonchalauntly in the middle of the set. A group of dudes next to us, probably on some serious dank or psilocybin yelled “play it again” at the end of the song. So sure, mankind might still be heading on the path of de-evoltuion, but Devo remains pure, incredible, and tragically underrated. My only complaint is that I wish Devo was scheduled later than 7 p.m. so we all could’ve received the full effect of their gargantuan LCD screen. If their ship docks near you, go see them with haste! They’re more punk, multifaceted, and visionary than artists half their age.

Friday evening treated us to two buzzworthy (and rightfully so) upstarts, Chicago’s Light Pollution and South Florida’s MillionYoung. Light Pollution recently visited Louisville at Zanzabar and made it count. Their relentless touring has paid off, as the band’s rollicking psychedelic pop was even tighter this time around. It’s a shame there wasn’t a bigger crowd, since they performed on the East Stage a little over an hour after the gates opened on the first night, but they delivered a solid performance nonetheless. “Good Feeling” sounds intergalactic on a festival PA.

MillionYoung’s thick cascading sea tones and psychotropic celestial boogie provided the precise vibes needed for the setting sun over the Ohio River. The dudes ended up camping and hanging out at the festival all weekend as well, and I got to chat with them a bit on Sunday. Good dudes. I hope they sell a metric ton of records.

There’s not much I can say about The Flaming Lips‘ live show that hasn’t been said. When posting some of my photos on my Facebook account earlier this week, a couple of dudes used the opportunity as a forum to air grievances about how they’ve put on the same show for years. I say, so what? When you have the finest touring production in music right now, there’s no reason to alter it. And as my friend Jerry remarked, while they have similar elements in every show, each performance still has something new you didn’t notice previously, much like a good film. In the first few minutes of the show, after stepping out from of the color saturated psychedelic LCD vagina (interpret that how you will), Wayne Coyne wished success to the Forecastle Festival (JK McKnight came out and did a quick thank you speech beforehand), saying “we hope this festival continues for 100 years, and we’ll try to play as many of them as we can.” I was happy to hear lots of Embryonic, as well as “Pompeii Am Götterdämmerung” and other cross-catalog selections. This was my frist Flaming Lips show after several failed attempts over the past few years, and there was absolutely no disappointment in relation to hype. Unequivocally awesome. I love rock and roll theater.

Hmmm, who aged better between Smashing Corgans and Devo? Fuckin’ Devo, obviously. That’s why he’s flippin’ us off in the above photo, am I right? I mean, it was totally cool hearing some choice cuts off of Siamese Dream like “Hummer,” but to hear those jams without the Jameses and one Darcy felt weird and possibly wrong. Also, I believe Mr. Corgan might’ve been mocking us or making some subtle domestic violence joke with this quip, and I’m recollecting from memory here but this seems accurate via Spinner: “I asked ‘what do they make here in Kentucky? They told me, bourbon, baseball bats, and hot women… hot Kentucky women” There were some crowd woots from the inner circle, but the people around me were just as confused and kinda creeped out as I was. But maybe that’s just my mindset regarding my inability to give this gentleman/dark wizard the benefit of the doubt. At ease, gentlemen. For a lesson on how to actually charm the crowd, rather than causing your sincerity to be suspect, take some notes from Wayne Coyne. Gish and Siamese Dream still rule, though.

As mentioned in my preview, I knew little of Morning Teleportation going into the show, but my feelers told me this band was going to be brutal. They were right. The Portland collective donned shades of hippie attire and a communal attitude, amalgamating post punk rhythms with the schizophrenic instrumentation of Os Mutantes and The Incredible String Band, wrapped up in an explosive package. They did rain dances for a storm of destruction while postering the suniest fucking vibes. Apply that SPF and be on the lookout.

Locals were well represented among the headlining touring acts at Forecastle, boosted by the locals-only North Stage, curated by LEO Weekly. Nerves Junior is a new one, and they’re definitely getting booked on future Decibel Tolls-sponsored shows. While their recorded material suggests more rigid, jagged electronic no-wave experimentalism, their live sound showcases more controlled, wildly adventurous jangly and dusty psych rock.

Wax Fang has always been a Louisville favorite, and I’m waiting for their big blow up. Bearing the insufferable 95 degree heat mid-Saturday afternoon, Wax Fang introduced some dynamic new songs – moving more away from their Dinosaur Jr-informed and operatic La La Land, and into a more nuanced headspace reliant on tension-and-release. Has Wax Fang gone jammy post rock? Not sure yet, but the new tunes are interesting, and Wax Fang’s premiere musicianship can take them anywhere they want to go. (My photos kinda suck because this big bald photog dude was all in my shit the whole time – hate you big bald photog dude).

It’s so good to have the slithering krautrock of Parlour back in the game to decimate air molecules. The band, refreshed from lots of rehearsal time and good vibes, ripped through new selections off their forthcoming Temporary Residence release Simulacrenfiel, and I must say we’re in for a treat this October. The highly motorik rhythms, analog synth swells, and Can-informed sax freakouts from Steve Good added a menacing and psychologically pummeling flavor to the picturesque settings of Waterfront Park. It was a beautiful juxtaposition.

Cirque Berzerk was a great call for the festival. It gave a nice reprieve from live music, and was infinitely entertaining. The LA-based collective performed half-hour shows at various intervals throughout the weekend. I caught the Sunday evening show, and it was everything it was advertised to be – a strange concoction of the macabre, the childhood whimsy/creepiness of the circus, burlesque, and performance art – adding a certain Burning Man component to Forecastle (especially when the performers were roving freely through the park). Totally trippy.

Forecastle put on a hell of a production this year. The festival grounds were huge (four stages plus additional attractions), but not overwhelming. The lineup was diverse. Tons of healthy food options were available, and drinks weren’t too terribly steep. Totally fantastic time. However, as Forecastle is welcomed in the same conversation as larger household name festivals, the chance for fallout certainly increases – as in, Waterfront Park had a worn zone feel with the amount of litter. Sure, that might seem at odds with the festival’s “art and activism” slant. Yet, as we headed out toward the gates late Sunday night, a man adorning a cartoonish cow costume began yelling “don’t be a dick – everybody pick up one piece of trash and throw it away!” And ya know what… people listened (myself included). About 30 to 40 people could be seen, with multiple pieces of refuse, heading toward the trash and recycling bins. Surely there were other pockets of people doing the same thing throughout Waterfront Park. Maybe Forecastle’s founding message of caring for the land and each other, through all their eco-conscience vendors and attractions from non-profit and advocacy organizations, really did hit home for some of us… and if so, the festival was a success in more ways than one. See you again next year.

Truth: no other band generates as much excitement for the Gregorian Calendar as Boredoms (or V?redoms… like the much missed ODB, I’m never sure what they want to be called), as evidenced on July 7, 2007 with the premiere of the Boredoms’ 77 Boadrum public performance / art installation / rain dance / apocalyptic event. As you will recall, 77 Boadrum featured 77 drummers under the direction of Eye in Brooklyn that began promptly at 7:07 p.m. While forms of the doc existed online, there was no (to my knowledge) official DVD release for those wanting to experience the madness by way of a George Lucas-esque Dolby 12.1 (or whatever) entertainment center until Thrill Jockey stepped up to do the right thing and see this damn thing through. 77 Boadrums hits shelves September 7th. That’s a week after my birthday. You gonna buy me one? Please? Glean more info over at Thrill Jockey. (Thanks to yvynyl for the tip)

MP3 :::
Boredoms – Super Going

Michael from Ghost Animal seems to constantly be recording per his social networks, and then shares said tracks with bloggers, friends, lovers, and fighters. He might replace James Brown as the hardest working man in show business. Ghost Animal’s blend of more punk-informed garage psych is worthy of your earspace over many aesthetically-similar artists, in my opinion, as the group truly nails the balance between pure pop prowess and mind altering dissonance. I’ve said it before, but I’ll reiterate – fans of Spacemen 3 and Woven Bones need to be on this. Put away the Wavves thing and drop the needle down on this total summer banger. Also, got respect for a man that wears his Beiber love proudly (see photo).

MP3 :::
Ghost Animal – Some Other Time