Last Wednesday was a beautiful evening of music. The most significant testament to the show was how well three somewhat disparate genres meshed in an aesthetically sensible way. Many thanks to everyone who came out!

The evening kicked off in a dream state thanks to Softcheque. This was my first time seeing them (I missed them when they opened for Phantom Family Halo), and I was extremely impressed. Though they were missing a member due to a last minute work conflict, the group sounded thick and tight. Though Softcheque is often known as a group of Sapat members, Sapat in no way overshadows what Softcheque brings to the table. While Softcheque toggles between many genres, the soft, pointed vocals of Dane Waters over slow-tempo, orante instrumentation evokes a serious Broadcast and/or Pram vibe, minus some of the retro kitsch. I’ll let the video speak for itself:

R Keenan Lawler was up next, and killed it as usual. Lawler is a one-man act, using hollow-body guitar, a bottle neck, a mixer, and effects pedals to create Martian mountain folk. Lawler plays it claustrophobic and intense – you don’t need visuals or distractions to keep your attention focused on the man sitting on the stool noodling away.

Detroit’s Oblisk closed the evening with the loudest performance. Walls shook, the strobe light blinked, and there was lots of smiling before a few faces melted off. Super resonant Big Muff distortion makes me emotional. I almost cried. I’ll be reviewing the group’s latest, Weather Patterns, later this week. So good. Enjoy a couple of minute-long nuggets (I wish the video was longer, but alas, camera fail):

It’s worth noting immediately that the Round Robin Tour – Deerhunter, No Age, and Dan Deacon performing “in the round,” as it’s called – was one of the best times I’ve had at a show in recent memory. The show was intense yet lighthearted, and loud as hell throughout. The music, in all aspects, was simply impeccable. Case in point: I walked into the show more or less liking No Age and Dan Deacon, but not really feeling either way about them. As far as I was concerned, I was there for Deerhunter and that’s that. However, with solid, incredible performances by every act, my attitude was altered about 15 minutes into the show.

Of course, the comfortable nature of Newport’s historic Southgate House, with its balcony seating, cheap drinks, good air circulation, and general professional level of production played no small part in this as well. There were four opening acts for the headlining threesome (zomg! unintentional pr0nz). So, by my arithmetic, seven different artists played – all of whom had varying instrumentation that was probably challenging to mic and mix. Yet there was absolutely no change-over time. You were treated to music non-stop from 8 p.m. doors to 1 a.m. curfew. Tickets for this show were $10. That’s value you don’t get much too often in these economic times. So bravo to Southgate House for keeping the tickets low and the music rolling without a hitch. I love this venue.

The first act was already performing on the ballroom floor by the time we made it in (the line slithered all the way up to York Street). It was a mostly-female noise group whose name I did not catch, and were not terribly remarkable anyway. But I hadn’t had a highball in me yet, so maybe I was just being Grouchy Jones.

White Rainbow played next, and he was the best of the four openers. A menacing one-man sound machine, White Rainbow plays it just like I like it – simple drones building up to loud washes of gentle oscillations. Then he rips a funky guitar line, loops it, and builds a technicolor wall of sound. It was very reminiscent of Growing, whom I oft spring chub for. I wish his set was longer than the alloted 15 or 20 minutes he played. He’s got a new club banger coming out on Kranky in October called New Clouds. No doubt that shit will be tight.

The crowd was really into one-man act Ed Schrader. I still can’t figure out how I feel about him. I guess that’s challenging performance art in practice? And if that’s the case, does that mean he’s “good” or “artistically relevant” (cue Hipster Runoff)? Dressed in his Heavens Gate best (all white), Schrader banged on a tom and throatily sang surreal lyrics in rockabilly fashion. And that was it – drum, voice, and inter-song banter and antics. I felt like I had a confundus charm cast upon me during the jam. I dunno, maybe it was cool. I went and grabbed a cocktail in the middle of it. Shit confused Bloggins.

Infinite Body, in theory, was good, but very taxing to listen to at the height of anticipation for “No Deachunter.” After two rather excitable openers and the funky fresh brain rape from White Rainbow, it was very difficult for me to enjoy light space drone that seemingly went nowhere (though L-Train said she enjoyed him the most of the four openers). His lights were cool, though.

At this point, it was already 10:30 p.m., but we did not wait long for Deuce D to appear first, then the ‘Hunters, then the two Bro Agers. The show began with a three act collaboration on Deerhunter’s “Cyrptograms.” It didn’t sound terribly different with the others’ input, but it was certainly fuller. No Age added extra drums and guitar to the song’s climaxes, and Deacon sprinkled electronic flourishes where applicable. After “Cryptograms,” the three acts began to take turns playing their songs in order -  No Age, then Deacon, then back to Deerhunter. Most of the show operated in this fashion, and that was just fine with us.

No Age was impressive. As mentioned, I liked No Age going in, but never found them anything to write home about – ya know, on record, the collective act as a general noisy punk group who ocassionally throw in ambient tracks for continuity. Live, they’re a different beast; a firey, snarky acid punk juggernaut. The band, as a duo, was chunky, full, and clear. It’s amazing what a little reverberation and amplication on the drum kit will do to up the ante. Each song they played was compact and succinct, ripping though much of Nouns, and keeping it all punk as fuck. They catalyzed a lot of crowd surfing, which is rather unusual at most of the shows I go to. You could cut the intensity with a knife. I see now why No Age is not overrated.

Deerhunter definitely delivered the goods. They kept the improvisation to a minimum compared with other bootlegs I’ve listened to, but hey, they were sharing the show. No time for dickin’ around with effects pedals. More importantly, Deerhunter has developed into a tighter entity over the years. The group certainly isn’t just a collection of studio dudes, they’ve got chops, too, and hearing the zenith of “Nothing Ever Happened” over thousands of watts was boisterous and Biblical. The band kept their set pretty Microcastle heavy, delivering the aforemtnioned, as well as “Cover Me/Agoraphobia,” and “Never Stops.” Though I would’ve enjoyed some deeper cuts – anything off of Turn It Up, Faggot or the latest Rainwater Cassette Exchange, it was awesome hearing the bombastic rendition of the title track off Fluorescent Grey:

Dan Deacon, perhaps unsurprisingly, was the showman of the evening. A veritable PT Barnum, Deacon decorated the stage with his various contraband – party lights, battery-powered flood lamps (for passing around the crowd), a trippy green skull staring into your soul – and ripped right in to his Future Shock synth assault, including the infamous “The Crystal Cat.” Antics abounded, including ample audience participation and human architecture experiments… like the one below. Unfortunately, the camera’s memory card was full during the song’s climax so the video cuts off. But you get the jist – a Dan Deacon show is basically a carnival (or a carnivale):

The show ended the way it began, with a everybody-gather-’round performance of No Age’s “Everybody’s Down.” If you’re familiar with the song, you know about its quite-loud dynamic. When the song kicked in after a minute and a half, six guitars, two drummers, and a madman behind a green skull and various analogue equipment extended the four-chord progression for over five minutes, with guitarist Randy Randall handing over his divining rod to the audience to let everyone else get a strum in. The bands were noticably having a blast, the crowd was ecstatic, vibes were good… I couldn’t think of a complaint if I was paid to… except maybe for being unable to figure out what Ed Schrader’s all about.

The seven date Round Robin tour ends tonight in Milwaukee, so if you’re in the SoWisc/Chicagoland area, make haste. It will be worth a scalper’s price if ya gotta.

Major industrial-sized props are due in the direction of mah boi Jim Lerza and Emily Crothers, who, after hearing about my recent camera issues and lack of funds, donated one for us to use. Secondly, Lana again came correct on the photo tip and snapped some of the best of the set, which are included below. If you like her stuff, visit her Flickr – dissonantobjective.

More photos after the jump.

YANP’s Matty J doin’ what he do:
The setup:

Kinda late, but here are some photos of the Bonnie Prince Billy and Bachelorette show earlier this month at Lexington’s The Red Mile. Photos by my bro Chris Reynolds.

Cheyenne Mize in Oldham’s band

Two things sucked about this night, but neither had to do with the bands.

First, my camera revolted against me – freezing, erasing files on its own volition, etc. This caused me to lose my video of Ariel Pink’s pre-show banter and the Vivian Girls tossing a tambourine into the crowd to play along (only to have the recipient completely unable to keep a beat). Sad on the inside. However, my friend Talena Sanders saved. the. fucking. day. by not only ponying up her camera, but also parting the seas of American Apparel to get right up in front and snap some cool shots. Many, many thanks to her.

Secondly, the venue, Al’s Bar on Lexington’s near north side, is a tough place to see a show. The bar itself is really cool, but resembles more of a neighborhood haunt than a music venue. That makes sense, as Al’s was conceived as a smaller scale billiard hall, restaurant, and bar – one that just happened to start hosting live music. As such, the acoustics are a little muffled and, more unfortunately, they do not have a stage. Whereas Lightning Bolt can pull off playing on the floor, it’s hard to expect every other band to do the same (though Ariel and the Vivs were rather awesome on the floor). I applaud Al’s for being able to host all ages shows, something Lexington has needed for a while, but wish that they would build a stage now that they boast a regular concert calendar. Nothing fancy, maybe just two drum risers pushed together. That would help a lot. If you’re not three or less persons from the performer, you can’t see anything.

Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk about the actual Ariel Pink/Vivian Girls co-headline show and how much it ruled.

Vivian Girls hit the stage around 9:45 p.m. and ripped immediately into “Wild Eyes.” I wasn’t sure what to expect with them live. I like the record – a bit overhyped, but good nonetheless. I think everyone in our group and I were really impressed with the Vivs – for a number of reasons, but primarily by hearing the eponymous record brilliantly translated in a live setting. They are just as noisy and upbeat in person as on record. As alluded to earlier, they know how to have fun with the crowd, passing out tambourines and letting audience members play along. Drummer Ali Koehler is absolutely motorik in her drumming, and bassist “Kickball” Katy sings through a reverberated distortion box on the harmonies. It sounds quite unusual (hence, refreshing).

Most interesting to me, though, was how much fun they were having. Perhaps it’s the sometimes monotonous vocals, or perhaps it’s the “zomg these doodz are from Brooklyn so hip lol” vibe that our lovely blogosphere propagates, but I expected them to be rather unapproachable shoegazers. Not so – the Vivs were all smiles, chatty with the crowd, and exuded rad times and rocking out. Their set ended with a blazing Thurston Moore style feedback and guitar destruction storm, with the Girls switching instruments halfway through the jam to end on a very loud note. In short, Vivian Girls are a very good live band and totally worth seeing.

My theory concerning the crowd makeup was proven shortly after the Vivian Girls ended their set. A noticable portion of the crowd was definitely there for the Girls, and folks began clearing out. Fine with me, it was too warm in there anyway and indie rock dorks harsh my mellow. Moreover, the vibe improves when everyone is unequivocally there for the performing act and nothing else. What I mean to say is this – when I saw Oneida live a few years ago, they were touring with Magnolia Electric Company. The MagElectCo played first to a packed house, and then everyone left (save for 30 people or so) before Oneida hit the first note. Later, I talked to Fat Bobby from the band about this, and more or less apologized for people being lame. He said something that makes a lot of sense – I’m paraphrasing of course, but his attitude was roughly “I would rather be in front of a smaller crowd that came out to see us play than being in front of a sell out crowd that may or may not be listening.” So with that said, the Ariel Pink crowd was more intimate, and more intense.

Ariel declared two decrees before beginning the rockshow. He first stated “let’s hurry up and get this show over with, I gotta take a piss.” He then changed clothes on stage, sporting a glittery, beaded, psychedelically colored blouse that a cool grandma would wear and slipped on tighty whiteys over his trousers. Afterward, he instructed the crowd: “move closer, I’m cold… BUT DON’T TOUCH ME!” This set the paradigm for the next hour.

I saw Ariel Pink once before, when he was opening the pre-Feels Animal Collective tour, but since I was working the show I didn’t get to really enjoy him. They played as a duo (I believe) at that time and I was told by a few people that Ariel Pink was “unlistenable.” Maybe that was true, but I think a lot of that crowd wasn’t familiar with Ariel Pink and were unaware that both his records and live show consists of a lot of deranged sonic bullshit. There’s nothing to “get” with Ariel Pink, which I think confuses a lot of people. You either think he’s fun, kooky, and cool – or you don’t. I certainly fall in the former. I think the same could be said for everyone at Monday night’s show. They knew what they were getting into.

Ariel Pink sounds fantastic as a full band, which includes members of Beachwood Sparks and Lilys. The band is able to strike a smart balance between recreating the sounds of the recorded Ariel Pink with translating the music live, featuring enough variance and tempo alterations to make it interesting. As a matter of fact, some songs were translated so well and so clearly restructured that I had trouble recognizing a lot of the setlist (and I have most of Ariel’s released material, though the dude has something like 50+ tapes of music). The band kept the music steady while Ariel traversed around the “stage,” getting loaded and talking shit. It was awesome. Ariel Pink is truly a divining rod of all that is sinister and delightfully askew.

Ariel Pink’s live show, of course, will not convert anyone who isn’t already down with his art, his image, and his mystique. However, the full band addition really accents the most brilliant moments of Ariel’s songwriting, and the acerbic sarcasm from Ariel peppered betwixt songs is not only entertaining, but kinda endearing as well. Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti has a very unusual and amazing stage show, and my expectations were 100% fulfilled.  If you think his records are fun, kooky, and cool, the new Ariel Pink live show is totally recommended.

And shit yes, he played my favorite – “Are You Gonna Look After My Boys?”  I was so pumped and wanted to scream “and after my baby so she don’t run off with my soul!” But of course, I was recording and couldn’t. Enjoy the color saturated video – I think it matches the timbre of the music. Synaesthesia, bro.

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti Odditties Sodomies Vol. 1 is out now on Vinyl International (it’s limited edition, and if you like “Omen” below, you need to jump on that). Vivian Girls’ eponymous record is available on… um, not sure of the label, brb.  Back… yes, it’s on In the Red. Their website is aces, as well.

MP3 :::
Ariel Pink – Omen
Vivian Girls – Where Do You Run To

Undoubtedly, the conventional lore, exponentially propelled by the documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston, builds a towering mystique around Daniel Johnston – a troubled genius, a volatile and mysterious persona, a songwriter informed by mental illness, a musician catapulted to international success thanks to smart product placement by way of Kurt Cobain.  But seeing him live is something else entirely.  Seeing Daniel perform in an intimate setting like the Good Folk Festival on Saturday stripped away that mystique entirely.

This was my first time seeing Johnston, and I was really taken aback at seeing something truly unique.  But prior to that, we had a chance to see Daniel’s table at the exhibition.  I imagine that the prospect of showing and selling his art was a big incentive for Daniel’s family to make the special trip to Louisville.  Daniel, Mountain Dew in hand of course, was signing autographs, creating doodles, and chatting with a fanbase that’s arguably more well-wishing than most.  My best good buddy Brandon was able to snag one from him (pictured below) and was glowing about it shortly afterward.  Daniel’s sister had accompanied him this time, manning the table and taking care of logistics.  Daniel’s art is quite impressive, especially in real life, with the seamless meshing of pop art, surrealism, cartoonism, and colorful pastiche.

Daniel only played four songs, which is about average as he has immense stage freight. His stage presence is exactly what you’d expect from hearing his innocent, fragile voice.  Daniel strums through each song energetically, with a slight jitter, not looking up from his songbook stretched across a music stand in front of him.  The childlike innocence that permeates Daniel’s being is understood by everyone in the crowd, politely laughing at a botched joke like you would of a child’s.  Nick at Backseat Sandbar said: “Daniel stopped shortly after this song to tell us about a dream that he had in which a man was sentenced to death for committing suicide.  There was no follow-up, but a few chuckles from the crowd emerged.  After playing “Mask” he told us that he told us wrong about his dream, and that the man was sentenced to death for attempting to commit suicide, and the man was him.  He was sitting in the back of the court room and he reacted by screaming, “NOOOOO!”  Corrected, more laughs were garnered.”

He ended the show with the heavy “Freedom,” with the coda “Last night I dreamed / I died in my sleep / Only to awake / Lying in a coffin,” and then, “thanks everybody!”.  Quite an emotional gutpunch.

Afterward, we stuck around and examined all the booths.  It was a pretty large art fair, taking up two spacious exhibit spaces in the Mellwood Art Center.  The fair, by the way, was amazing.  It was mostly young artists showcasing excellent, subversive artwork.  And of course, Daniel had one of the largest booths there.  After seeing most of the other art, we returned to Daniel’s booth.  Most of the crowd had cleared out, and Brandon’s girlfriend Katheran was trying to find the original of the print she bought for his birthday. That’s when Daniel’s sister approached us: “can I help you all find anything?” she asked excited.  At that point, I knew what was coming – Brandon, as someone who works with children for a living, is bright and friendly as a motherfucker, so robust conversation was going to happen.  And we learned a lot.

Brandon asked a lot of questions, especially issues brought up in The Devil and Daniel Johnston.  Thankfully, Brandon did this in a tasteful way, as the film sometimes tries to indict the family at worst, portray them in not the most positive of lights at best.  No matter, Margie, though somewhat visually disappointed that we couldn’t purchase any original art, was gracious in speaking with us.  She mentioned a dislike for Jeff Tartakov, the original manager for Daniel, who moved his cassettes into proper distribution, noting that Jeff did not divvy up money proportionally.  “People are always trying to cheat Daniel out of money.  Someone would come up and say ‘hey, we’ll give you $50 to play.’ [imitating Daniel excitedly] ‘Awww, $50?!’ And so that’s why we’re here.”  She also shared that their mother, Mabel, is going through a lot of health problems at the moment straining the family.  It was during this time that Daniel strode determinedly through the crowd behind us to the booth, and behind the table exclaimed to Margie “I’m hungry, can I have some money for lunch?”  “Of course, I’ll give you $20, but no sugar!” she responded.  I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something really cool about seeing an intimate family moment like that, seeing what life with Dan (as Margie refers to him) might be like.

We bid goodbye and made our way through the rest of the fair.  At the expense of sounding totally cheesy, Daniel Johnston is really cool.  He creates original artwork, inspiration music, and hides away in his parents’ basement without a care in the world.  He showcases himself, and you get all his triumphs and all his scars with it.  And it’s funny to see so many musicians posture this idea of cool, yet Daniel is cooler than all of them while radiating all that’s not cool (mental illness, living with the folks, sweatpants).  The other thing I took away from the concert is a respect for Margie and the Johnstons.  Sure, they recognize the business the family generates from Daniel’s success, but it’s also undeniable that they have reached the point of understanding what Daniel’s best interests really are, and they roll with it with love and patience.  So much patience that they even sell the documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston.

Thanks to my friend Katheran for the photos.  It should be mentioned that she’s a reporter, so these are totally legit.

MP3 :::
Daniel Johnston – I Killed the Monster

Despite that fact that the sun radiated full force on Union Park, baking the crowd in 95+ degree weather, Boris was too dark and mysterious to not wear black. Czech the gong.

Boris’ set was very tight and put the crusty dude contingent of Pitchfork into a frenzy. I thought the set was a tad disappointing since they focused more on their metal oriented material rather than their more drone and psych oriented trip-outs on Rainbow and Altar. Though I do understand why they didn’t play those songs, as both of those records were collaborations with Michio Kurihara (of Ghost) and Sunn O))), respectively. Nevertheless, it was nice to see Pitchfork add an evil aspect to the Sunday lineup.

Of course, for all sinister live shows, it helps to bring your best blankey for sitting down solutions.

The only thing at Pitchfork Music Festival 2008 that was more metal than Boris was the mascot for one of the fine BBQ vendors on the concourse. Meet Righteous Oinker.

After two months of flawless weather in Chicago, the climate waited until the most excellent of weekends to unleash her fury, with downpours on Saturday and oppressive, Biblical heat on Sunday. Despite that, Pitchfork Music Festival, by and large, ruled. Though we were all very privileged to see some excellent performances (sans Vampire Weekend… the Decibel Tolls is the only blog with an official “VW sucks it” philosophy), this whole festival belongs to one man, in my opinion.

And that’s Mr. Jason Spaceman…

Remember when I said Boris would be the loudest band at PMF? Wrong! Spiritualized was loud enough to decimate the festival’s PA system in the middle of “Take Me to the Other Side.” Mr. Pierce was so distraught over the whole predicament that, well, he took it upon himself to knock over their mic stands with his guitar and send his vintage (I think it was a) Telecaster through his amp head. It’s good to see psych dudes go delightfully apeshit every now and again. He wasn’t too upset about the whole thing, as he came back on stage to wave bye to the crowd and take a humble bow.

I was hoping that Spiritualized would roll through with an extra ensemble or two, and they delivered. The crowd roared when the Spritiualized gospel singers took the stage for some very intense, wall of sound plus gospel renditions of “Come Together,” “Soul on Fire,” and more. Pierce even brought out the big guns and dusted off “Shine a Light” from 1991’s Laser Guided Melodies (my favorite Spiritualized album)! This is the closest I’ll ever get to taking drugs inside a church.

Animal Collective brought a whole slew of new material during Saturday night’s performance. Actually, they premiered one song in the middle of a 20-minute rendition of “Fireworks” come to think of it. AC also brought out one of their newest fan favorites, known as “House” and “Simple Things,” depending on what you read. Avey Tare sported an awesome bucket hat. Unfortunately, none of my photos turned out that well, so I won’t post them. I had amazing photos of their performance last May at The Dame in Lexington, but unfortunately, my camera went AWOL shortly after. Moral of the story, unload your shit early and often.

Caribou was the other sick performance that stood out from the weekend. The rain hit right when Caribou started at 2:15, but the music was too sunshine-saturated to make you take notice. As I discussed in the Pitchfork preview, Caribou is an exercise in percussive fortitude. Dan Snaith performs with a full band, and bangs the shit out of the drums for each song’s climax.

The highlight for me was hearing an old favorite, “Skunks” off of 2003’s Up in Flames. Just like the recorded version, Snaith and Company laid the booty bass on thick. Though the Left Banke never received their due credit in the ’60s, their body of work is alive and well in Caribou. One interesting side note – Caribou seems to get 86 love in Chicago. At their Metro show back in November, they were opening for Battles (though they were great, Caribou was better). Otherwise, for their headlining shows, they’re generally plunged back into smaller clubs like the Empty Bottle. Their Saturday afternoon super-stoked psych-pop explosion blew the crowd away. You heard it from everyone in attendance, so methinks their Pitchfork appearance will reverse that current, and Snaith will receive his due props in the Windy City (though I do enjoy seeing Caribou in smaller rooms, he deserves a wide audience). Though the music was still sweeping and gorgeous as well, it’s the two drummer assault that takes emphasis live.

Also during Caribou’s set, hometown drank heroes 312 Ale / Goose Island flung about a bazillion beach balls into the crowd.

Though not related to the focus of this blog, my girlfriend (much to her delight) and I got to see our lil’ friend Jarvis, too.