MDMA Films: Mumblecore Preview Part II

                Monday, June 20^th the Mumblecore mayhem is released to the masses. You should be prepared. This is happening. Another tidbit from the upcoming movie “Mumblecore” has been presented online for your viewing pleasure. I am excited to see how much they managed to throw into a film with minimal money. This is the most heartfelt thing I’ve seen from Tao Lin and Megan Boyle. Let Mumblecore be as good as this whole trailer. I’d like that. 

                We begin with the gorgeous red color. For whatever reason, I respond well to the color. Perhaps it is intended to ‘color’ my experience or viewing of it by literally seeing the scene through rose colored glasses. Or it could just be the cheapness of the computer lighting. Whatever the reason it does alter my reaction to what Megan says.  As she says “Then the next few times we hung out we slept in the same bed” Tao’s head looks up at her at an affectionate angle. Tao gives a little nod and they move on to the next scene. “Aw” came out of my mouth involuntarily with this scene. Calling it adorable wouldn’t do it justice. 

                By using a stark editing technique called “reality” Mumblecore captivates me more than some set-up love story. They use real language. I find set-ups in most romantic films to be corny, cheesy, and pretty boring. With those mass-produced sorts of media they edit out any humanity to create a beautiful, empty glossy package. Here Tao and Megan do the exact opposite. Though the filming is oftentimes blurry the humanity is crystal clear. Humanity and love are the main focuses. After Tao says “I like just being around you” into his hand Megan responds with a simple “Me too.” Keeping it so focused and unencumbered by anything else allows you to connect with the mumbling lovers.

                You see them in the back of a car. Nothing happens. They talk. The red light makes a re-appearance. A song plays on the radio (the only song I hear in the entire trailer). Listening to the song their conversation appears to nearly fit the music. That might be accidental but if so it is a rather delightful accident and an example of what happens around us when we pay attention. 

                Paying attention is what Mumblecore is mainly about. Both of them limit the amount of information you’re given. You’re only given two characters. The limits are what define the movie, how you don’t know Tao’s or Megan’s internal thoughts. Considering what they write you probably could guess what they think or don’t think about. I know some people religiously digest everything either person comes out with or does. Lately Tao has been prolific with writing for “Vice Magazine” and selling some of his possessions on eBay. But knowing what they think isn’t important. You don’t even need to know them that well to feel the connection between the two. 

                I enjoyed the second trailer a lot. Even more than the first it makes me eagerly await its release on MDMA Films.

Happiness in Aeroplanes – Hunted Like a Ghost Machine 7.0

                Happiness in Aeroplanes is a misleading titled band. Nothing about these fourteen tracks expresses anything verging on happiness. In fact, many of these tracks tend to dwell in the lower part of the sound spectrum. They might as well be underground due to all the murk.

                Eddie J Palmer appears to have a certain degree of affectation for early IDM. I consider the entire homage as something of homage to the old IDM sound. The sounds are weird, percussive. All of the melodies are skewed and somewhat dark. Considering their origin of Brooklyn, New York this does make some sense.

                Personally I happen to enjoy the longer songs where he stretches out for a bit. “Exchopraxia” is one of my favorites. The effects happening in the periphery create tension. Even the melodies on this work with the length to make something rather affecting. "Autobahnen" is a sweeter, lusher song. I'm reminded of "I am Robot and Proud" whenever I hear this one.

                The album works best for late-night listening. All of the songs are rather tense. Don’t look for any light in these tracks. Expect a great deal of tension due to the percussion, noises, and constant modulations on the low end. It is a good album but it does take some patience. Find the whole thing here on his mysteriously vacant bandcamp page along with multiple choices of the album artwork.

Selebrities – Delusions 8.4

                Selebrities have every reason to feel accomplished. They’ve managed to put out a great single, EP and now a full album. As someone who grew up extensively on Goth and new wave this album makes me smile ear to ear. Countless nights I spent listening to New Order and Joy Division suddenly feel completely worth it. 

                The guitar weaves its way through drum machines and Maria Usbeck’s fantastic vocals. She gives just the right impression. Her voice sounds straight out of 1982. I’m really impressed at how well each one of these people did their homework. Whenever people have tried doing this sort of sound they try to hide in lo-fi techniques or offer up some other kind of cover. Bands like Twin Shadow and Silk Flowers get part of the ideas right, missing key ingredients. Selebrities has a great grasp on what needs to be done from the low end, rhythm, and tenor of each song. 

                After I learned these guys were from Brooklyn, I felt a bit sheepish. They are so close by, right in my backyard and I didn’t even get to see them live. Considering the rawness of “Living Dead” I’d imagine they would do a pretty good to downright excellent job live. 

                Pacing is great through the album. If things were too heavy before, they follow it with a lighter song. Even within a single song, they know how to keep in interesting. On “Can’t Make Up My Mind” their teaser available free for download, they have a nice little flourish towards the end where the guitar drops out leaving the naked synthesizer. 

                I have a few favorites on here. “Secret Garden” and “Time” are my picks for the highlights. The first one has such a clean guitar line with a drum machine reminiscent of “Bizarre Love Triangle”.  “Time” sounds like the perfect song for a rainy day, which New York has been having plenty. 

                Surprises are good. Delusion is an album filled with surprises. Their focus allows them to really hone a singular sound. Maybe someday Selebrities will be celebrities.

Beirut’s come back to us.

                 Where have you been Zach Condon? Have you been finishing up High School so you’ll no longer be a High School dropout? Or did you return back to the Balkans to learn more about Balkan Folk music so you can ‘indie-fy” it for culturally ignorant Americans? 

                Really, you’ve missed out on a lot by keeping a low profile the past few years. Your last album was in 2007. Back then, people were willing to wait longer for albums. I don’t know if you have enough clout to just sort of sit on your laurels the way LCD Soundsystem did or Arcade Fire did. “March of the Zapotec/Holland EP” was your last EP in the hit filled year of 2009. Compared to Animal Collective, Neon Indian and the chillwave gang, you didn’t stand a chance. 

                Maybe you missed your chance to become a giant powerhouse of music by waiting so long. Brooklyn seems to have dulled your senses. You have married, but what music have you come out with lately? I know your work on the “Realpeople” electro project might have tried to capitalize on blog house music, but otherwise you’ve been quiet, too quiet for the ravenous music-devouring hordes on the internet. You do seem to have found a niche with lonely people on the internet who play your first album over and over again on Last.fm (to be honest, most of your fan base scares me). Whoever listens to “The Flying Cup Club” on repeat worries me a tad since that album was in hindsight a tad bit weak. 

                Now I hear you may be coming out with a new album this year. A few things can be done to get your band back in shape. Get your twitter back in order. Tweet about every little aspect of each song. Make an actual twitter account, like Beirut2011. Follow Beach House’s example; make the twitter account the year you break through to popularity. Do what James Murphy did and release cryptic YouTube videos of you recording in a haunted house. Since you’re in New Mexico, perhaps you could say something mystical as you walk through the desert at night. 

                Get your website updated. I’m glad to see “Sunday Smile” is available for download, but that song came out during the George W. Bush administration. How about you give at the very least a newer MP3 to download, like a single song you’re comfortable releasing. Do you even have any new songs written? If not, just offer some leftovers and call it ‘an exclusive premier’ or talk about whatever world tours you’re doing. I’m glad you did some tours back in 2010, but this is a new year. That lazy website might work for Black Dice since no one cares about them, but I thought you wanted this band thing to be big, why else would you have moved to Brooklyn.

                It seems you have done one thing right: you got Pitchfork to do your announcements for you. They mentioned you’re touring with all those bands that make sweet money cakes and win awards. Arcade Fire might be a surrogate family for you. While the music scene has changed, they’ve stayed true to themselves. Since your music generally mines pre-existing European folk traditions, the Arcade Fire might help you out due to their unique status of being the whitest band on Earth. With all that time you’ll spend with them you could learn how to win a Grammy as well.

                Not all bands can stay true to themselves. Just as a backup for relevancy and authenticity, I’d suggest having a retro synthesizer just in case you decide to explore 80s pop music with a lo-fi sound. That’s kind of a big thing right now, so it is a comfortable crutch if you need it. I’m not saying you do, but it is good thing to have if you want to get your predominately wistful and bleary eyed (due to crying) fan base dancing.

                Think about it. I can’t tell you what to do. Only you can. Figure out how to open up in spectacular fashion. Get a ton of hype, pull a Panda Bear and tease your audience with rumors of an album. Whatever you do, just remember the internet buzz sleeps for no man. Avoid the fate of Bright Eyes. Rise above.

William Basinski – A Red Score in Tile 4.9

                William Basinski can be thought of as a reverse Brian Eno: whereas Brian Eno created ambiance by building up, William does it by breaking things down. In his greatest work, Disintegration Loops, he even made the process romantic. You could hear and feel those loops breaking down into mere fragments. A Red Score in Tile explores slightly different territory.

                This piece, originally written in 1979, doesn’t break apart. Rather, it mediates on a single theme for 45 minutes. At moments you can detect a slight variation on the theme, a slight bending of pitch. Unfortunately, the amount of work and focus needed for this discovery is ultimately a let-down. Sure, the sound is great, William doesn’t exactly create tasteless recordings, but it feels unusually empty for a composer who deals with larger scale pieces in a more meaningful way.

                Basically a recording like this was inevitable. With so many releases, at some point he would eventually release a dullard. I’d strongly suggest his Disintegration Loops recordings for those with time and patience. That experience is rewarding. For those with less time, Melancholia offers a better presentation of his ideas in a short period of time. But sadly, this piece is not worth the effort the listener puts in. Fine wallpaper music but not something worth engaging on a deeper level.

MDMA Films: Bebe Zeva Premiere!

                Finally, it happened: Bebe Zeva came to New York City. Tao and Megan Lin had eagerly waited for this very week. All the kindness Bebe bestowed upon those young rapscallions could finally be reciprocated. New York prepared for her arrival by having some of the best weather it has had since October. So says the weather man, but I don’t always believe what he says. 

                The sun shone brightly on the fortuitous day of March 20, 2011. For on this day, everything changed. My faith in MDMA Films would be affirmed, despite the constant reminders of Tao and Megan Lin doing drugs together. Bebe Zeva’s documentary would be arriving, nay, premiering in my beloved Apple; the biggest Apple on the east coast (originally planted by Johnny Appleseed so many centuries ago, when he arrived in America with the Vikings).

                Hurriedly I got on the subway to see this film for myself. Sitting across from me was some bland couple, a boring couple. Together this couple inspired countless numbers of Americans to avoid relationships for fears of seeming sad and disappointed. These two talked about the plague of “Tosh.0” or, how they referred to it as, ‘that funny show’. I sat in my seat; mortified fans of the show not only existed in real life, but were in my very subway car. So many things popped into my head to tell them, all of them positively profane and vulgar. I wanted to dissect the premise of that vile, rotten, pathetic, egregious error of a show to these not-so-fine individuals. I’m a reasonable sloth though.  Instead, I looked up and waited for my stop. Better things were coming my way.

                 Bebe, in case you missed my previous posts, is fashion blogger from Nevada. Unlike most bloggers, she actually knows what she’s talking about, a doubling refreshing prospect in this mega-blog universe. You can visit her site here. In the documentary, she spends a day with Tao and Megan as they explore Las Vegas together. The documentary is funny since they are such low-key people in a city as silly as Las Vegas. 

                All of them had a blast in the big city. According to various online photographs, they explored parts of Brooklyn. Parts of Brooklyn I actually know and visit, though I didn’t bump into them. I was busy with this excellent bakery in Greenpoint which had the best poppy seed bread I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. Literally, tears rolling down my face good. 

                I approached the Soho House with something approaching caution. Some of the people in this building I had written about on here. I breathed deeply. Perhaps after this I might end up no longer being able to write about them again. Would seeing them and meeting them forever change my perception of them. Part of me wanted to remain hidden, away from view in the comfortable confines of the internet. I could support them from afar, offering auxiliary support. Maybe that would be easier than interacting in real life with people whose work I admired. 

                To learn more about Bebe Zeva, please purchase her DVD out now on the fine MDMA Films. It is wonderful. Support a wonderful Fashion blogger. Support the fantastic Tao and Megan Lin. Have a great day.

Bro-nalysis

Oh, the bro, what is he really besides an empty shell of a man acting manly to the point of self-parody?

                Well, I feel we should explore the concept of the ‘bro’ and what makes a ‘bro’ a ‘bro’. There are a lot of misconceptions about what constitutes it. People think that any old douchebag can be a ‘bro’. Bros are something beyond mere d-bags; they are an entire system, a particular genus of humans whose habits need to be carefully observed. Knowing more about their habitats can help you avoid this large, loud, drunken people. 

                At the beginning of time itself, God did a pretty excellent job of balancing everything out. Black had its white, day had its night, and hipsters had their bros. Much like good can only exist with the inclusion of evil, otherwise being good would be meaningful; a hipster can exist only as a reaction against the bro-scape. Or the bros could act as a reaction to the hipsters, un-ironically being assholes and bro-ing it up. 

                Bros come to age earlier than hipsters. Hipsters usually don’t come about until late high school/early college when they first discover The Pixies or film photography. As High School first begins, Bros hit the ground running. You might have known them before as the kid who tried too hard to fit in back in Middle School. Now, with the additional of raging hormones and a taste for douching it up, they go on to bully and pester every kid they can, anyone who looks different or may be considered ‘alternative’ or ‘hip’.

                Hip can exist only with extreme lameness. Lame is the bro Nirvana. Everything they do in life is lame. Bros don’t have any cool interests, all their interests suck. Sure, each person has guilty pleasures in life, but Bros express only the utmost joy in making every weak, pathetic interest one of their passions. That means taking pride in a sad-looking car they embarrass further by adding pointless shit to the back. Meaningless tattoos celebrating their passion for drinking or ’69-ing’ are left on their back for all to see. I wish I could say I didn’t see a 69 tattoo, but that would be a lie. Also, they keep tabs on stuff people wouldn’t even consider full-blown hobbies, like becoming specialists on the cheapest beer you can get in Kegs, or what DJ Tiesto set is the best. Truly the most inane, pointless information becomes the Bros bread and butter. 

                 Let’s start with their taste in TV. Every bro must have their TV tuned to Spike TV, MTV 2 for the Jersey Shore and other trashy programming, and the DVD box set of “The Man Show” a holy grail of a show for the bro. Other shows are intended to show off the bro’s attempt at being hip, like a box set of Adult Swim’s “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” which they pretend to understand but don’t at all. Usually this is a fig leaf they offer to anyone cool who might bother to visit them.

                Music is even worse. All of their music tastes were formed in High School, since college time was spent getting loaded off alcohol and drugs of varying degrees of hardness. Generally speaking, the bro never explores any psychedelic drugs which might make them discover who they are. Staples of the bro music diet might include such bands as:

Dave Matthews Band

Sublime

Some Ibiza Dance set from the recent past

Led Zepplin

80s Hair Metal

                Truth be told, the worst part of their diet is the fact some of their favorite bands are the favorites of non-bros (though Dave Matthews should never be consumed by a non-bro, not even ironically). But thankfully this is not the only way to distinguish them from the general population. We also have their appearance.

                Skin-tight shirts tend to be a big thing with them. Hipsters wear tight clothing, but generally stick with skin-tight pants since they can fit into them. Due to the bro diet, which consists of Taco Bell at 3am, huge amounts of beer, huge amounts of mixed drinks, huge amounts of straight alcohol and occasional food they grab at random from a local 7/11, they have a less than appealing physique. Generally speaking bros are in terrible shape, though some do actually attempt to take care of themselves. This attempt fails most of the time. Clothing then never gets upgraded as they increase in size, they figure they’ll lose weight by working out, something they really do, yet always talk about. 

                Of course, you’ll never get ambushed by them. Silence for them is highly unusual. What tends to happen is they make loud, annoying noises which counts as language for them. Oral traditions are extremely important for the bro, as it constant variations on a theme. If this sounds kind of like Bach, it is, if Bach decided to talk about that time Jake got really wasted in 18 different ways instead of creating works of art. Wasted stories are beloved by the bro, as it shows he is ‘living it up’ without having any time at all to think about what a massive failure he might be. Most of the bro stories end up with them sleeping face-first in a puddle of their own urine. Then, as they are brought to the shower to clean off, they attempt to order Chinese food. Or so I’ve heard. 

                All bros are employed, a strange event considering their utter lack of a work ethic. Usually they get fired for being a bro. Discrimination against the bro is somewhat understandable, as they are fired for coming to work late, surfing the internet during most of their day, or coming in hung-over 50% or more of the time. Either that, or distasteful jokes about a colleague get them ‘removed’ from an otherwise normal work environment. Going onto the next job, they act exactly the same way and get fired in the same way, and the process repeats itself.

                What’s worrisome about the bro is a complete lack of filter. This means they are way more emotionally unstable and vulnerable than your average human; forget the apathy of the hipster. Bros cry to each other and say how they ‘feel you’ in a near-sympathetic way. Generally speaking, don’t let them near any expensive audio equipment or automobiles during this period of vulnerability, which lasts for anywhere between 3 months and two decades. A lack of filters reveals something far worse, besides the bro bragging about how much action he gets or how drunk he got: it shows genuine intelligence that they willingly try to suppress.

                For example, as you try to make your office’s extremely sub-par coffee, the two of you will inevitably get involved in some lame conversation about some sports team you thought no one followed anymore. As you speak, he suddenly drops a reference to Rothko’s work. Staring at him, you feel uncomfortable, not realizing he possessed knowledge outside of the necessary party skills and bodily functions (usually). Best to avoid following that train of thought, the more you do, the more you realize at some point he had been a normal person before he morphed into the bro-dom.

                 But after all this, there are attempts at forging bonds between bros and hipsters, despite their aesthetic differences. Panda Bear dedicated a whole song “Bros” on his classic album Person Pitch. Bros reciprocated by retreating into their sports bars and promising never again to ever set foot in Brooklyn. So far, the peace has been held for now. 

                Someday, a long day away from now, we’ll all be friends and these hurtful words will melt away. We’ll embrace each other as friends, rather than people with poor taste in music/culture. Our differences won’t be important, as all major and minor problems will be solved. Those days is a long time away, but let’s hope we continue moving towards that beautiful sunset.

Japanther – Skuffed Up My Huffy 7.5

Oh yeah, here’s the Ramones updated to the modern era. You have your random samples, occasional keyboards, and almost brainless drum and bass. I say brainless in the most endearing way possible, this is a pretty likable way to spend 28 minutes of your life.

                From Brooklyn, these two don’t bother showing off their skills. They don’t have any. What they do have is an uncanny ability to create catchy music with the barest minimum of musical talent. Somehow their enthusiasm and happiness shines through each one of these songs. I enjoy them greatly.

                If you can’t sing along with the chorus in the song “Fuk Tha Prince A Pull Iz Dum” then you may not have a heartbeat. Singing into the cheapest microphones money can, they sing that song’s title as phonetically as they can. Adding that ridiculous keyboard makes it even sweeter. Alongside the wonderful anthem “Seventy-Nine”, these are the main highlights of the album.

                The other songs are fairly decent, but even the weaker ones don’t overstay their welcome. Overall, this burns through your mind fairly quickly, in a good, sugary pop-punk sort of way.

Obits – I Blame You 5.7

What Obits does is rehash old-timey rock and the roll in the spirit of The Rolling Stones. Now, I’m actually a fan of the Stones. And as much as I want to like these guys, their music feels false to me. Each bit of energy they put in sounds unproductive.

                There’s not a lack of talent here. All of the songs show off the fact that they are veterans from various other bands like Edsel. What I’m concerned about is how forgettable most of this is. Sure, having a guilty pleasure of redundant garage rock isn’t a bad thing. As a result of the glut of these kinds of bands, I feel that the group ought to try harder to leave their own imprint on the music. I can hear the potential for a better approach, for stronger songs.

                Actually I liked parts of the album. Hearing the song “Run” made me re-listen to the album to see if I heard other bits in the album like it. The singer sounds more natural to me for reasons I can’t exactly pinpoint. Everything in this song works for me. “Widow of My Dreams” would be another pick of mine; I like how the bass snakes through the song. It sounds fantastic, and again, I wish the rest of the album did it for me like this one.

                Basically, my problem with this is it rehashes so much from garage rock and various other bands that it fails to create its own identity. I’ve seen them live before, opening for Polvo, and I liked their enthusiasm. At a bar with a beer, this sounds acceptable. But alone, it is hard to focus on such bland sounds. The few times it goes beyond the confines of its adopted sound like for the song “Run” or “Widow of my Dreams”, it is great. Sadly, that isn’t very often. Hopefully they will continue to hone down their sound, as this was their first album together. Here’s hoping.

The Morning Benders – Big Echo 6.9

                A Berkeley, California band called “The Morning Benders” gone to Brooklyn to ‘make it big. Relevance, money, fame all would come flowing to them. Big is what they start out with before the sound gets tired. 

                “Excuses” and “Promises” are like a one-two punch from a skilled boxer. For eight minutes, you’re so satisfied. You wonder whether or not they can keep up this kind of energy. The multi-part singing on “Excuses” is amazing. You’re in awe. “Promises” continues this joyful energy. Looking at the album cover, you feel like you’re at the beach with them.

                Sadly, the rest of the album gets mellow out of nowhere. I like mellow adore mellow, but this is a boring kind of mellow. Their sound appears to be treading water to some degree for the remainder of the album. While that isn’t bad, it gets a bit disappointing considering the bombastic wonder they opened up.

                Perhaps at some point they’ll work out the pacing issues. I enjoyed this album, I found the first half far more enjoyable than the second.  What I hope is on their next album they do more alternation between loud and quiet, fast and slow. If they do continue in the mellow stream, to make that relaxed songwriting more memorable.

Stranger than Paradise ***Warning Spoilers***

It takes a certain amount of confidence to dedicate an entire movie to nothing. Jim Jarmusch made it happen in the culturally bare 80s. Parts of the movie feel so naked I get worried. The characters act so natural it seems like voyeurism, as if I’m spying on them from my position of privilege. 

A few things are added in that make the appeal to me a little more personal. For one, Eva’s lack of interest in nearly anything is amazing. I simply adore her deadpan delivery on everything. Perhaps I can relate to some degree, since I’ve been told that I lack emotion in how I speak (I talk to you in monotone) so kudos for that.

“I put a spell on you” has to be the strangest reoccurring joke in a movie. There’s no purpose to it, besides Eva being interested in it. Whenever she’s bored, she simply has a tape recorder right next to her to keep her entertained. I wish I had the guts to just carry around a tape recorder with me, but I don’t even travel with an IPOD, or listen to music when I’m driving (whenever that rarely happens). 

The black and white looks glorious. Devoid of color, you get to focus on the truly crummy details of their surroundings. Willie’s apartment looks like total trash. Cleveland doesn’t appear to be much different. Everywhere is the same indeed, Eddie even states so himself. 

Bored with stealing from other people (something that lets Willie and Eva bond) they go to Florida for no real reason. Nothing happens. They look cool in sunglasses. Willie and Eddie gamble while Eva is left lonesome. Annoyed at being left alone, she steals a hat (as she usually does, she’s a kleptomaniac) and gets mistaken for a drug dealer. Given a huge amount of money by Rammellzee (Far Rockaway represent!), she leaves some for the two of them and goes to the airport.

What’s funny is how unwilling she is to go back to her home country. Apparently that’s the only flight she can still make, and she finds that very annoying. I guess she takes up their advice that it is the same all over, and waits for the flight the next day. Willie boards the Budapest bound flight to look for her and leaves. 

 The Cleveland parts are the best. Parts of the dialogue read like how I speak with people, which freaked me out. How they act as they intrude on her boring date and steal his popcorn. How they mock her geeky boyfriend. All of it works for reasons that aren’t easily explained. 

Casual films bore me most of the time, but this one did it for me. There’s something more underneath all that monotonous landscape, a real honestly and heart that you don’t find in movies very often. 

Start Watching: Here

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah 7.6

I know where I was when I first heard this. I sat in my friend’s anorexic-looking white Volvo sedan from the early 90s. As the music played, we all felt happy and content listening to the hip stuff while non-descript shopping malls passed us by. We were going to the beach to walk around aimlessly for a few hours.

The album begins with “The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth”. What comes before isn’t necessarily bad, but things really take off with this song. Part of me wonders why a band would get energized right in the middle of things, but that’s beside the point. Hearing the vocalist for the first time, he sounds like an incoherent drunk. Upon further listens (which you’ll do, since it is a habit-forming song) you’ll realize he’s singing in English.

After that song, everything in the album makes sense. “Heavy Metal” which is more energetic power-pop than anything else, and the bittersweet song “Home on Ice” are probably my other favorites on here. These three songs have the expansive feel that they had been trying for with most of the album.

Unfortunately, the album they had following this lacked the same charisma. Perhaps this band was meant to exist in 2005 and after that it just missed the mark. Indie rock moved away from this kind of emotional display after this, which is a bit sad. Listening to it a half-decade later, I remember why I liked it and that reason hasn’t changed.

Mark Fell – Ten Types of Elsewhere 7.7

Mark Fell is a pretty accomplished interdisciplinary artist. Besides being one half of “SND” he also does live performances of both sound and vision. This particular release “Ten Types of Elsewhere” deals with his installation work. Despite the disparate nature of the works, it does have its own unifying theme.

44 tracks might seem like a lot to wade through, but really it is more like 9 tracks, since some of these come together like suites. Rhythm is important on here, though there’s none of trademark SND beats. Beats do pop up occasionally, most notably in the “Storage” and “Ideation” groupings. In fact, each one of those suites seems to have heavily influenced parts of SND’s more recent output.

A lot of the track offer glitch treatments and various scraped guitar sounds. Since so much of it feels cyclical, there’s a certain Zen feeling that is achieved, particularly in the more ambient works. L-NE definitely changed its rules around for a bit for this releases, since a lot of the sounds on here are quite loud, so mind your volume controls, as the bursts are almost at random.

Experimentation is in full force throughout the disc. Towards the end though, that experimental edge is given a soul. Using panning to full effect, the music begins a gentle playfulness, removing all previous harsher edges. “Remote Systems” begins this process, popping from right to left, left to right. 

“Commuting” ends things on a high note. This is one of Mark’s most tender tracks. A soothing ebb and flow of a track drifts along as you float with it. Listen to this one on very, very good headphones. Going on in the background of the ebbs are additional echoes of what you’re hearing. Usually such large scale acoustic experiments are purely academic, but this one feels pure, feels genuine.

I really liked this.

The Slice is Right

Walking around my neck of the woods, I noticed a band. This band played in front on Vinnie’s Pizzeria, where the slice is right. Indeed, their slice consisted of scuzzy rock of The Hospitals vein. Riffs burst forth as the singer sang like a pilot rambling incoherently into the black box before the plane crashed. Having said all his goodbyes, he now spoke about whatever new age death scenario his mind gave him. In other words, it sounded great. 

The drummer was simple but effectively as the guitarist found what to play through the dense noise he himself created. Various people stood around in support of this young pizza rock duo. At times it felt like tuning into the first performance of Velvet Underground, only it was in the cold mid-November air and nowhere as relevant. 

Finally the duo ended their rein of chaos after the employees from the pizzeria stated that they were getting noise complaint. I find it extremely admirable that such a small establishment has taken young artists under their wing. Usually it is larger companies like Taco Bell, Mountain Dew or Converse that tries to help young talent. Now that these guys have gotten such attention from the important random people on the sidewalk demographic, it is time for them to expand their base to people waiting for their dry cleaning (which would have the added benefit of being inside). 

I’m reassured that this is going on in music. Those neighbors had no idea that history was being made right outside their front door. Maybe it is time they turned off the channel 13 Charlie Rose interview with Russell Crowe and got introduced to real culture. 

P.S: If anyone knows the name of this band, that would be great. I didn’t catch it, but I’d certainly like to know it.

Am I cock-blocking squirrels?

Autumn is here. Biking about whatever this is called I hear the beautiful crunch of leaves beneath my tires. For me, this is a reassuring sound. It sounds like a slow move towards some sort of progress. As I head towards the top of the hill, I’m glad to look down below and coast for the next several minutes.

Unfortunately, my joy takes away from squirrels. I noticed it on my bike ride today. Whenever I got close to two squirrels frolicking, pouncing on each other with abandon, they split apart. The squirrels separated into two distinct entities, rather than that one blur of fur and love. Am I cock-blocking them? Are their lives becoming worse now that I interrupted their affection with my affection for a machine?

Maybe one of those squirrels was a day trader. Perhaps he earned good money and hoped to settle down. When he woke up that morning, he noticed gray hairs on his head. Even though he can afford to live in a desirable part of Brooklyn with ease, he realizes he’s no longer young. Going through his record collection, he’s realized he’s losing his edge. The only band whose new album he got was Arcade Fire’s “The Suburbs”. Already his tastes dictate that he should be a ‘cool dad’ but without any young squirrels to look after, he’s feeling alone. Most of his friends already have a house in the suburbs; they gave up the rigors of city life. Years are passing him by as he attends more and more weddings, looking at the lovely newborns. 

The other squirrel took a more creative job. She worked at Melville House. DUMBO seemed to be changing. Though she greatly enjoyed editing Tao Lin’s “Richard Yates” book, she began to wonder if this is it. Maybe it was time to leave the city and settle down. She goes to relevant art gallery showings in Park Slope, Williamsburg, and Bushwick. But she’s starting to realize she’s getting to be the older one at these gatherings. 

That’s when he saw her. She saw him. It felt right. Each part complemented the other. Both of them shared similar moderately liberal views. Rather than move to the suburbs, they’d raise their squirrel young in the city to keep them cosmopolitan. Together they began running, jumping up and down off trees, relieved they had found each other before it was too late. No longer would they be forced to handle the cold of winter alone. Instead each of them could wrap themselves in the other one's tail, forming a perfect ying and yang of harmony.

But what the hell is that coming towards us each one exclaims simultaneously. A blue streak making a vast racket is moving at such a fast pace. Thankfully we’re squirrels so we can outrun it. But which way should we run? 

Squirrel nature dictates that they run to where they were last safe. So in the middle of the street one runs to the left, one runs to the right. Before they separate they make their final goodbyes knowing they’ll never meet again. He didn’t add her on facebook, she didn’t add him on facebook. Their meeting was so fleeting. Instead they’ll just go back to the misery of squirrel online dating, hoping to meet squirrels that don’t heavily abuse drugs and express some interest in upper-middle class things like Piet Mondrian paintings, aging YUPPIE bands like Yo La Tengo, and burying nuts in the ground.

She’ll end up meeting some squirrel who is nowhere as cool. Rather than a hip cool one like the one I tore away from her, a biology teacher for the 7^th grade will do. His last name will be pronounced “Sack-Her” as he tells her, flashing a lame grin. Together they’ll settle into some comfortable suburb outside of Chicago and he’ll insist that instead of raising the kids on religion, he wants to raise them on the morals displayed in old comic books.  Looks-wise, he’ll look strikingly similar to Gary Sinise if Gary Sinise was a squirrel.

He’ll end up meeting a squirrel at a luncheon for one of his charitable events. Together they’ll talk about the need to find a cure for autism in squirrels. Eventually as the conversation progresses both will realize they went to same Catholic schools as children. Slowly they will come closer together. Compromises will be made and the kids shall be raised by some sort of laissez-faire Catholicism, with the major sins discussed (like murder, stealing to prevent their children from climbing on furniture to take their sweets) and the minor ones left out. 

Neither squirrel shall feel as complete as they would have in the original relationship though. Each one of their partners lacks the cool, lacks the initial spark. It feels as if they are “settling down” rather than “falling in love”.

I offer my sincerest apologies to these squirrels. To relieve their pain, I too go through similar circumstances myself, as a human being. Next time I see two squirrels in the sweet throes of embrace, I’ll make sure go to the other side of the street.