All of Us In Our Night

I kind of want to go see New Moon, the Twilight sequel, just because I'm so intrigued by the soundtrack. The lineup is a list of some really great bands! It includes Grizzly Bear, Bon Iver, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Ok Go and the Editors, not to mention Death Cab for Cutie. Death Cab was a sellout long ago, but Bon Iver? Way to introduce the masses of fanatical preteen consumers to some really excellent music, music-selectors of New Moon, but now I have to be torn between loving these artists and hating the fact that they are going to be on every schoolgirl's ipod. Oh well. Grizzly Bear is an awesome and talented group based here in New York, and I'm happy for their success. And it's about time Black Rebel Motorcycle Club gets some attention. They are fantastic, but I feel like no one has ever heard of them. Have you heard of them?

But I guess it doesn't matter because all I've been listening to lately is the new Modern Skirts album, All of Us In Our Night. I saw this band perform about three weeks ago at the Mercury Lounge, as they opened for The Old Ceremony. I'd been wanting to see Modern Skirts play ever since Matt gave me their first album, Catalogue of Generous Men, a year ago, a collection of wistfully sunny and extremely catchy pop tunes with an unpolished charm. Ever since falling in love with that album, I'd been waiting for them to come to New York. I wanted to satisfy my curiosity and see if they were as lovely and vibrant live as they were on their debut album.

However, as I waited for them to come to New York, I didn't take the time to listen to their newest music, so when they came on stage and the first thing they did was turn on the synthesized pre-recorded background noise (I wouldn't really call it music, more like atmosphere) I was completely surprised. Then, they didn't play a single song from Catalogue, but did a whole show of songs from the new album plus things they haven't even recorded yet, so it was a sound I was unfamiliar with and not entirely satisfied by. This is just me, but to play recorded sound at a live show seems like cheating somehow, even if you have instruments and vocals to go along with it. But, I have to give those guys their due--they rolled up their sleeves and got down to the business of making music. Gone were the lilting piano rhythms and harmonicas of their past, replaced with much drums, some pretty amazing xylophone action, and solid guitar playing. It was not bad. It was not what I had been expecting, but it was good enough that I went and bought the new album at the merch table when they were finished and The Old Ceremony was setting up.

The Old Ceremony was a phenomenal live act. I had heard some of their songs before--they are a Chapel Hill band, so I was familiar with them, but had never seen them live either. From what I had heard, I was expecting a quietish, laid back sort of jam-rock. I should have known it was a night of surprises, because those guys blew me away completely. No, actually it was lead singer/guitar player Django Haskins alone who blew me away. He did things with his guitar that I didn't even know were possible. And he made inside jokes about having band practice in the kitchen of Pepper's Pizza, a Chapel Hill dive, that only I laughed at, which made me happy. Having felt a little homesick about not being able to go home for Thanksgiving, it was a nice moment of the universe bringing Chapel Hill to me, since I couldn't go to it. The Old Ceremony's performance was an awesome and eclectic mixture of rock, Americana, lounge music and Eastern philosophy (or so it seemed) supported by some of the best musicianship I've heard in a while. In comparison to the suave and masterful performance of The Old Ceremony, Modern Skirts drum-banging earnestness seemed naive.

And yet... although Peter and I were so bowled over we practically ran to the merch table and counted out our pennies to buy The Old Ceremony's two albums after the show was over, the album I've found myself listening to over and over has been Modern Skirts' All of Us in Our Night. For some reason The Old Ceremony, to me, is two-dimensional in their recording, with none of the life I saw on stage (but hey--fantastic use of a woodblock print as cover art on the album!) The recorded songs are clever and well-done, but bland and a little bit precious where they had been vibrant, layered, and brilliantly performed live. Meanwhile, where Modern Skirts had been a bit clunky and over-eager live, their recording is subtly superb.

In All of Us In Our Night, Modern Skirts has deviated from the spare pop of their debut and gone down a darker, more robotic, path of synthesizers, reverb, and percussion. Though it seemed disjointed onstage, on the recording the synthesized sound is deftly utilized, giving the music depth and texture that melds perfectly with their lazy-pop melodies. All of Us In Our Night is like night when compared to the daylight of Catalogue of Generous Men, but it is a dusky, haunting, and exciting night, filled with satisfying melodies, vaguely intriguing lyrics, and (my favorite) that momentum that builds within each song until, in the final track Like Lunatics, the energy is palpable. When it ends I take a deep breath, give it a moment to let the musical smoke clear, and press the repeat button.

The Drums

Maybe because it was Labor Day weekend and suddenly I was trying to recapture a summer that had slipped through my fingers, or maybe I saw the cover photo of the EP and was caught by the nostalgic primary colors. Either way, I discovered The Drums and have been living a vicariously endless summer ever since. Summertime!, the Drums' debut recording (just released in August), has been on repeat on my ipod for the past few weeks, so when I heard they were playing at the Mercury Lounge last Tuesday for their only night in the US between tours of the U.K. and Europe, I headed there to see the live performance, which, if Boy George is to be believed, is "joyous... kind of quite joyous." Unfortunately, it seemed like the word was out among the hipsters; I arrived to find a sold out show. I should have known, because based on the music I've heard, The Drums are really pretty great.

While it's true that The Drums sound like the love child of the Beach Boys and Frankie Vallee, adopted by Joy Division and raised in Brooklyn on a diet of Smiths records, I'm kind of getting tired of people explaining bands biologically, and describing them in terms of other bands. And yet how else do you describe a group with that grinding guitar beat that makes you want to grab your swimsuit and chase waves, lyrics that recall the 50s sung with the poetic angst of an 80s glam rocker, and tunes that stick in your head for days? Everyone is quoting how they set out to sound like The Wake, but there is definitely some Orange Juice, some Flock of Seagulls, and a pinch of The Ramones added to a sure foundation of the aforementioned musical influences.

The first track, Saddest Summer Ever, plunks you down into the frenzy of a teenage summer break filled with dancing, running around, and figuring things out as July fireworks explode overhead. Waves, whistling, and a tune that you can't stop singing along to is Let's Go Surfing, and Make You Mine would sound perfect playing on the jukebox in a crab shack by the boardwalk. Don't Be A Jerk, Jonny evokes a scene from a cheesy 80s teen movie, Submarine is just a fantastic song, and Down By the Water is the torch song of the sensitive surfer with a broken heart--gorgeous and sad. A little too sad to be the last song on the record, though. While I'm having a hard time finding any fault with Summertime! I have to admit I would have chosen a more upbeat song to close out with. Then again, you'll be playing it on repeat too, so it doesn't even matter. Here's to an endless summer!

The Drums are, in their own words: Jonathan Pierce - The Singin', Jacob Graham - The Stringin', Adam Kessler - The Twangin', Connor Hanwick - The Bangin.' Hopefully I can catch them next time they are in town.

Shakedown at the Majestic

The first time I saw Shakedown at the Majestic, I was so late I missed everything but the last song. Who knew such a good band would go on before 10 pm? Luckily for me Shakedown has since played several shows around the city, and I've even managed to be there on time for a few of them. I'm definitely not going to miss this Friday's performance at Webster Hall. These guys have got a great sound!

The biggest thing that surprised me about Shakedown is how solid they sound for a band that's only really been together since November, when after playing their first show under the name Best Summer Ever, three friends Chris Vermillion, Stephen Frandsen and Taylor Nimtz headed to a burger joint for dinner and emerged as Shakedown at the Majestic. It's a name they hope will conjure a fifties vibe, the same sort of nostalgia and retro rock they aim for in their nascent sound. It's a name that fits, seeing as how the band-members cite such old time influences as Chuck Berry, the Beatles, and the Beach Boys. The band often describes their music as "powerpop with a fifties vibe." Power is right--there are shades of the Beatles in tunes so catchy you find yourself humming them the next day, and pop is there for sure, in the bubblegum beat of songs like "Bria," sung with all the earnestness of a 1960s boy-band like the Turtles or the Who before they all went psychedelic. They are often compared to Weezer. But, adding to the strong melodies and tight vocals is something else--I know I heard a little reggae and a touch of rhumba in a few of the songs, spiciness delivered with a suit-and-tie seriousness that separates Shakedown from their nearest comparisons, current bands like Ra Ra Riot and Modern Skirts. But not too serious. Shakedown at the Majestic knows how to rock the house. With Stephen leading the audience in body rolls, the music is definitely danceable. In fact, I dare you to hold still. (Shake it, don't break it!)

Like most of the young New Yorkers that I know, the members of Shakedown at the Majestic have been in the city a few years, having initially come in pursuit of careers that have nothing to do with being musicians. Taylor, now with a day job in finance, played drums in various college garage bands and "I always thought I'd grow out of it," he says. "But as life kicked me in the teeth here in the city, I realized playing the drums was cool and I needed to get back into it." He and Chris started jamming for fun, and formed briefly as Suede Silhouette. Then Stephen joined in, things clicked, the feel was right. Shakedown at the Majestic features Chris Vermillion on guitar and lead vocals, Stephen Frandsen on bass and vocals, and Taylor Nimtz on drums and also providing vocals. It is a vibrant combination.

Chris Vermillion has been writing songs since his days as a drummer in a high school grunge band. Musical composition is important to him, and despite growing up in Indonesia and Sri Lanka, he's actually more drawn to Brazilian bossa nova, naming Antonio Carlos Jobim one of his strongest inspirations. As Shakedown's primary songwriter, he rhapsodizes about chord progressions, which is where he'll start when writing a song. Lyrics come later, after the substance of the piece has been created through "catchy, stick-in-your head" melodies and harmonies layered to perfection. While he can be protective of his song-craft, more and more these days he is sharing songwriting efforts with Stephen and Taylor, enjoying the collaboration of jamming with band-mates and letting the songs coalesce as a team effort. Building on its solid powerpop foundation, Shakedown at the Majestic continues to exhibit a distinctive blend of rock and roll, punk, doo-wop, and complete individuality.

Definitely right now the band's focus seems to be on developing their sound and their live performance. When asked about goals, they reply modestly about just wanting to play better, perform better, give the audience a better show. Practice is important to them; they take their music seriously. And, though they are taking things one step at a time, working first to perfect their craft before quitting their day jobs and going on the road in search of fame and fortune, none of the guys are averse to the idea of making music full time if the moment becomes right. Well, the moment seems to be getting closer. With a steadily growing fan base, plenty of opportunities to perform around the city, a debut recording in the works, and the chance to win a trip to Germany as part of this Friday's Emergenza Music Festival, Shakedown at the Majestic is poised to become a major player in New York's independent music scene. Keep an eye on these guys--they will not disappoint.

Come see Shakedown at the Majestic rock Webster Hall this Friday, July 10! Bring your dance moves. You know I'll be there.

Shakedown At The Majestic - Please Lucia! from Back Porch Media on Vimeo.

Photos by Jess White. Visit her photoblog.

You Swept Me Away

The cover art for the new Avett Brothers album, due out in late September, is a portrait painted by band member Scott Avett. The piece is completely unlike any of the Avett Brothers' other album artwork, which has been dark but not quite so literal. It's also kind of a bad painting. With an irrefutable love for the Avett's music, I have no love for this painting. The woman's head (or is that Neil Young?) is fine, with Rembrandt-like crudity and chiuroscuro that would make Caravaggio proud. The skull adds an element of vanitas, an age-old symbolism evoking life's transience. However, what is going on with... her arm? It doesn't look at all like it belongs to her body, and the painting is rendered too black to make the parts properly relate to each other. Is she holding the skull? Couldn't the Avett Brothers have used a better work of art, something in the same vein from George de La Tour perhaps? Who knows why the Avetts chose this painting for their cover art, but I hope it isn't indicative of the music that will be included. Will the music be dark and obscure? Have the Avett Brothers lost touch with reality? Are they trying too hard to be serious?

Musically, the Avett Brothers have consistently proven that they are immensely talented. Emerging from the foothills of North Carolina with extraordinary energy and heart, they have created a mixture of American roots music, folk, blues, rock, punk and rhythm that goes beyond categorization. I have never seen a livelier performance by another band, nor heard more heartfelt lyrics. Their talent is evidenced by the crowds at their shows. When I first found out about them, I'd go see them play empty bars in small North Carolina towns where sometimes the guy at the door would let you in free if you were a girl. Despite the small attendance, the Avett's would always put on the show of their life. Guitar and banjo strings broke by the dozen, and harmonicas would go flying. At the end of the night I'd shake Seth and Scott's sweaty hands and they'd ask how I was. The music and performances were an infectious combination, and the more they played, the bigger the crowds became. Now the Avetts sell-out stadiums, tour with Dave Matthews, play for Leno and are interviewed by Vanity Fair. Rick Rubin is producing their upcoming album. Though still quite gracious, they wouldn't remember me, and on their nationwide tours they only stop to play in North Carolina once or twice a year.

"So do you stop liking a band once it becomes popular, because its not cool anymore?" a friend asked me recently. No, of course not. But I feel a little like a parent, proud of my kids who've succeeded beyond their own endeavors, and moving on with my own life. While I check in now and then to make sure they are well, I leave them to their own devices. So, paint whatever you want, Scott Avett, and put it on your album; I will tape it to my metaphorical refrigerator. Your music I will always love, not just because its good, but because I am also sentimentally attached to it. It is tied up inextricably with memories of love, heartbreak, long Southern summer nights, New Years Eve parties, road-trips, and bits of my life that I can't even explain.

But it had been a long time since I'd seen an Avett Brothers show, so I decided to go see them a few weeks ago, when they were in NYC. They played two nights at the Fillmore at Irving Plaza, a lovely venue with intimacy that belied its size. The set list was a mixture of old and new, which Scott, Seth and Bobby Crawford performed with as much zeal as they ever have. Seth played a large role with solos, and with a fourth man, Joe Kwon, on the string bass, Bob worked it on the guitar. It was different, and it was the same. And it was really really good. The Avett Brothers put more energy and heart into one show than many other bands put into their whole careers. The music is clever, earthy, real and yet danceable and singable. The songs are about life's questions, about love, and about lessons learned. Gorgeous melodies combine with foot-stomping beats, and pretty soon everyone is either dancing or crying. If they weren't as spontaneous as in years past (and who would have known--they gave incredible energy as always), it was because they were concentrating on creating a perfect sound, a perfect song each time. If they didn't play all of my favorite songs, it was only because there are too many great ones to choose from. And if they have bad cover album art, it is apparently completely unconnected to their music, because the Avett Brothers are only getting better.

I like what Seth Avett said in a recent interview in American Songwriter: "We've seen a lot of temporary, disposable, plastic music in the mainstream. When the public becomes over saturated with that, its very pleasing to the ear to hear something more simple and human, and with less libido, like somone's just talking to you." Well, these guys can talk to me any time. And the only paintings I'm concerned about are the ones they paint with their songs.

Last Night at the Mercury Lounge

Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson's eponymous debut album, recorded three years ago and released last year, is a heart-wrenching glorious and gritty creation, an epic chronicle of struggle, death, and redemption. Somehow I stumbled upon the song Buriedfed and fell instantly in love with this kid, as he seemed to me, whose youth seems at odds with his ragged old-soul voice. A New Yorker by way of Oregon, Robinson has been called Brooklyn's best kept secret. I've been wanting to see him perform for ages.

Which is how I found myself staying up too late last night, down at the Mercury Lounge, where I spotted Miles Benjamin himself, having a drink at the bar before it was time for his headlining performance. With encouragement from my friend Peter, I approached the singer and introduced myself, wishing him good luck onstage. I guess I should have told him to break a leg instead, because the resulting show ended up being fraught with technical difficulties. However, broken strings, tangled cords, and false starts couldn't mar the beauty and magic of Robinson's performance.

Backed by musicians Will Cameron (of the U.K., of the late Blondelle, and, can I say, so young!) on bass and keyboards, Marque Toliver on violin and keyboards, and the very able David Jack Daniels on drums, Miles ripped through his first few songs--"old stuff," he said--with a love-hate passion that left me wishing for the soulfulness of the recorded album but blown away by the breathtaking energy and electricity of the familiar songs taken to their breaking point. Literally. While Robinson scrambled to restring his own guitar, Toliver (with one pant-leg mysteriously rolled up to his knee) jammed on his violin, leading the others in an enthralling spur of the moment tune that eventually evolved into a cover of The National's Abel. Where the show might have been derailed, the audience was instead captivated, and by the time Robinson was able to jump back in and take over, the show was already a success. Robinson let a scruffy guy from the audience fix his broken strings after that, and set about the business of some serious rock'n'roll.

Moving through his set of garage-pop meets retrofuture (or however the hipsters might describe them) songs, each with their own moments of genius, I felt like I was witnessing something more interesting than perfection. Great music is great music, but its not every day that you see greatness being invented on the spot. While it was clear these musicians had not practiced nearly enough together, their scrappiness, like the themes of Robinson's songs, couldn't hide their skills, and my jaw dropped more than a few times at the talent before me. With his natural genius for lyrics and his obvious passion for a thumping beat, Robinson sought to lead his band to musical nirvana, and just about succeeded.

Besides his voice, which is amazingly full of natural reverb, the thing I love most about Robinson's live performance is that he sings with a huge grin on his face, gazing up as if at the stars. He might be laughing at his own misfortunes, having a moment of transcendental revelation, or just enjoying the moment. By all accounts, this songwriter's life has been fraught with all of the substance abuse, addictions, and bouts of homelessness that might have stifled a lesser talent. But with the help of good friends like Kyp Malone (from TV on the Radio) and the guys in Grizzly Bear, Robinson has scraped himself up off the pavement, and turned the tragedy of his personal demons into soulfully real music. “His songs are given flesh and blood in a way that most rock music now doesn’t allow time for. Very little of his content is upbeat. There’s no whitewashing of his perspective on the human experience. Listening to it is edifying. MBAR is my favourite songwriter right now,” says Malone.

With his lyrics ("this is my last song about myself/about my friends/found something else to sing...") still rippling around the New York music scene, Robinson is headed to the U.K. for an eleven-day tour, and after that he's moving to Portland, where he plans to focus on writing, recording new music, and forming a new band. Talking with Peter and I after the show, he sounded wistful, like he wasn't sure if he was on his way home or leaving it. Well, I'm glad I caught up with him along the way. Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson is going places.

The Music Scene

If my handbag smells like beer, it's not my fault! I've been out late hitting the bars, but not for the booze--for the music! I'm going to start a new tradition on my blog: music reviews. These days I don't go to a ton of shows. My glory days in Chapel Hill saw me out at the Cat's Cradle almost weekly, to see groups like Teenage Fanclub, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Evan Dando, Cat Power, and the Avett Brothers. If I wasn't at the Cradle, you could find me at Local 506, or in Raleigh at (the late great) King's, or in Durham at the Lincoln Theatre or the Duke Coffeeshop, where I remember one very memorable solo acoustic performance by Ivan of the Rosebuds. Yes, those were the days! I wish I had kept a record of all the bands I've seen in all the places I've been--but I wasn't a blogger back then.

Now I'm in New York, where the music scene is five times (okay, maybe more than five times...) as exciting as Chapel Hill. With venues scattered across Brooklyn, Soho, Chelsea, and elsewhere, there is always a great band playing somewhere, always an amazing performance to catch. But that's the problem! There is too much, and too little time.

Nevertheless, and especially now that spring is here and all the free summer shows are coming up, I'm going to try and see as many rock bands as I can, and, while I will try and blog about as many of them as I can, I'm going to definitely feature one band per month. So stay tuned for my first official Music Review...

Blame Cupid

As my Valentine to you, I want to share one of my favorite albums of all time: The Lexicon of Love, by ABC. You may ask incredulously, "who?" You may laugh out loud. You may think I'm ridiculous and never take my music suggestions seriously again, but I don't care. I loved this album the moment I first heard it, and never get tired of listening to it.

The Lexicon of Love was ABC's debut album, released in 1982. They have been described as early New Romantics: carrying over the glam of 70s disco, updating it with synthesizers and lush orchestration, and mixing in a luxurious retro vibe with their sparkly tuxedos and references to Fred Astaire. A lot of people have panned ABC and this album over the years, but I think its making a comeback as music critics realize its staying power. It was crazy and over the top during its time, and it still is! That's why I love it.

It seems funny to say this, but I love this album because it seems to capture my personality and experience with love more than anything else I've heard. It's witty, acerbic, self-deprecating yet arrogant, a little crazy, but contained and superbly crafted. The lyrics are poppy and bitter at the same time. There is an energy and earnestness tinged with desperation and resignation that conveys the vital importance of finding true love, even as the singer's heart is broken at every turn. Listening to this album on vinyl is even better, because the scratchiness of the record adds a gorgeous layer of nostalgia. I guess I can't really explain it fully, but this album makes me happy. I told you, I like sad music! But this is really happy sad music. Check out the cheesy video for "Poison Arrow"...

Rosebuds

For those of you who follow the nuances of my blogroll over there in the sidebar, you will notice that I have added the blog of Kelly and Ivan. They are The Rosebuds, a band I fell in love with about six years ago, on my first date with Matt. We had gone out to dinner in Raleigh, and as we were walking down a random sidewalk, we passed a disheveled bearded guy on the corner, holding a red plastic cup. Matt greeted him as if he were an old friend, and as it turns out, he was. I still don't know why he happened to be there, but Matt asked him what was happening in Raleigh that night, and Trent told us that this pretty good band called the Rosebuds was playing at The Basement. After dinner, things were going well, so we headed over there to check out the show. The Basement was a dive, and the first place I'd ever been that required an ID check at the door. It was full of a mixture of impossibly hip and unattractively intoxicated people all rocking out to a sound I'd never heard before but loved instinctively. I fell in love that night, and I fell in love with The Rosebuds. Over the years, Matt and I would go to almost every one of their shows that came along. Our relationship played out in venues like Kings and Cat's Cradle, in the car with the stereo blasting, or at home with the record player and the promotional vinyl records I scooped up at shows; the band's sound was the soundtrack of our life together. But I'm getting sidetracked.

One of the things I love about The Rosebuds is that Ivan and Kelly are just normal kids from Raleigh. Before and after their shows they would come out into the crowd, and hang out with their friends, and I'd feel like I was a part of something really cool. Kelly would man the T-shirt and sticker table over in the corner, and one time as I pondered which EP I wanted to buy, she complimented my earrings. Even though they dressed like Eastern Europeans, Ivan and Kelly were real, people I would like to know. Even now, I know that they are friends of one of my friends on Facebook, and I am so tempted to send friend requests! And that's what made me suddenly write about them today. Is it strange to feel like you can be friends with someone you've never talked to? Is it wrong to want to be part of that "cool" world of rock and roll?

Well, the relationship ended, but the music persists, and I still enjoy The Rosebuds, though these days its more of the darker Night of the Furies, rather than the innocent Makeout. And it's funny because soon after Matt and I broke up, I heard a rumor that The Rosebuds were splitting up. It was eery--like their music was actually connected to our relationship and couldn't continue without us. However, despite the rumors, The Rosebuds released an album last year, and just played shows together in Chapel Hill and New York City. Hopefully they will keep going strong, and just get bigger and better. I would wish that for any friends of mine.