Remember when this band played at The Earl two years ago? I do. (Gosh, I was a fangirl back then...) How about when they shared a bill at Lenny's with Man Man? Yeah, that was good too.
Odd Blood, the eagerly awaited sophomore release from Brooklyn avant-pop prodigies Yeasayer, finds the band expanding adamantly in both more and less traditional directions. The band's 2007 debut All Hour Cymbals was a blissed-out romp through psychedelic dance territory, all bass and Chris Keating's charismatic whining. This follow-up shows us a more experimental Yeasayer, sort of; it’s more electronic, stranger effects have been applied to even the simplest melodies and the layers upon layers of groans and blips build to a fever pitch. Leadoff “The Children,” for example, features Keating's vocals sheathed in an unnerving effect that skews it simultaneously an octave lower and an octave higher...[Read more]
I know everybody's tired of stuff that sounds like the '80s...or calypso...or the Beach Boys...but this song sounds like all of that and it's awesome. Surfer Blood will be visiting the Drunken Unicorn Feb. 19 with Turbo Fruits, Carnivores and Holiday Shores.
2. Being that I spent all of last week trying to say what I think about the forthcoming Yeasayer album Odd Blood (difficult because I'm still not quite sure what I think), stumbling across Stereogum's Premature Evaluation of the record today was kind of illuminating: The toe-tapping "Rome" rattles forward, but in a less interesting way than the earlier tracks: It has rhythm and propulsion, but feels a bit empty. Yeasayer got folks hooked early on with "2080," a song that started floating around long before we even knew what the band looked like, so when those sort of harmonies disappear in favor of pure texture, a bit of the appeal drops-out, too.
Whew! I thought I was the only one that kept picturing this emoticon when I listened to certain parts of Odd Blood: :/
I mean, other parts of it completely rule. I'm sorta obsessed with "Madder Red." But there are bits that, to me, sound like a letdown. I feel like they're capable of more than that record. Dunno.
3. The A.V. Club posted a blurb about Vampire Weekend's Contra topping the Billboard 200 this week. Sure, we could actually discuss the ramifications of their popularity. But I'd rather point out that the article's writer Kyle Ryan captioned some scary video game illustration (which I should probably know about) with the line, "No, THIS guy would look psychotic in a balaclava." Hahahahaha, cheers Kyle.
If for nothing other than a sociological study on facial hair patterns in young adults, the Man Man and Yeasayer show at Lenny's would have been worth attending.
That being said, I'm glad this wasn't the first time I'd seen Yeasayer. The sound engineering this particular night did them no favors, mixing all the punch right out of Chris Keating's vocals — pretty much the whole draw of the band for me. Without it, their creations spiral downward toward — what did Jeff call their album? — "Airy, mystical shit that sounds like somebody got a ahold of a bunch of peyote and somebody's Johnny Clegg records." Well sure, Jeff, to me it gets that way if the sound in the club's bad. I really like 2007's All Hour Cymbals, even if it's a little far down the blissed-out spectrum for my usual tastes. You might feel the same, but once you see them live, you'll fall in love like I did. Keyword in that last sentence: "see." At the Lenny's show, I only heard them, and it just wasn't the same. I could digress at this point into an argument against Lenny's ever hosting acts that draw a crowd that large. The stage is too low to allow anyone under 6' a view of the action. (Not to mention their one-stall bathroom situation on a night when the crowd's at capacity...bad news.) Ordinarily, I love the way Keating convulses when he sings, as if the music may actually be killing him, gnawing out his internal organs, but he doesn't care — he'll fight through the pain to bring you, dear listener, the tune that may save your life instead. He sings like a musical martyr. I know that at another venue, Yeasayer both looks and sounds more compelling; all I experienced at this show was the shoulders of those next to me, the varying haircut profiles of the people in front, and lots and lots of projection screen psychedelia and bass. So. Much. Bass. The logistics of showgoing were so poor that night that I even danced to my favorite Yeasayer song, "Sunrise," with 12 of my closest friends in line for the ladies' room. Questionable venue choice to host two such high-profile and visually-stunning acts.
Yeasayer probably shared a good portion of the blame for the bar being so packed, but my instincts tell me it was mostly Man Man's fault. These men's popularity is, to me, unsurprising and incredibly well deserved. I can think of no music less pretty — or more beautiful. Lead-fellow Honus Honus (a.k.a. Ryan Kattner) writes the smartest music I ever hear, lyrically and melodically; it's technically worlds and worlds superior to what mostly passes as pop nowadays. The set for the night featured heaping helpings of material from their new Anti- Records debut, Rabbit Habits, like the frantic "Ballad of Butter Beans," the syncopated and moaning "Big Trouble" and the just-plain-effing-brilliant "Harpoon Fever (Queequeg's Playhouse)." Yes, that's a Moby-Dick reference. They sampled bits off their earlier releases as well, most memorably the slower and more nostalgic "Van Helsing Boombox" from 2006's Six Demon Bag as the final song in their much-cheered-for encore. The song features saloon piano, whistling and one of my favorite opening lines in all of music; "Only time will tell if I'll allow the scenery around to eat me alive," Honus croons gratingly over Pow Pow's gentle rim-tapping. While you're wondering what he might mean by that, the other boys are all busy. Honus climbs and kicks, playing his keys, but the others switch instruments. Guitar, bass, all kinds of brass and saxophone, and even more keys are represented (not to mention the occasional slide whistle). Pow Pow plays his drum kit side-by-side with Honus in front, the upright pole of his high hat sporting an impaled plastic rabbit and some feathers. The all-white all the guys wear contrasts with their unruly hair and sweaty skin streaked with face paint. Sometimes Honus plays a bowl of water as a percussion instrument. Tell me you wouldn't love to stare at all this forever if given the opportunity. I certainly wanted to, and was grumpy at being denied the vantage point, but as I've seen them play before, and Man Man makes me dance like a maniac, all was not lost. You don't even need eyes to appreciate something so viscerally compelling.
More fun things to enjoy while I put off all those record reviews (next week, I swear it!):
Yeasayer filmed two videos for Vincent Moon's Take-Away Shows, which are always brilliant. This is super exciting because Yeasayer's definitely a top-tier live act. Here's the best one; in my opinion, it's right up there with the Arcade Fire, Beirut and The National Take-Away Shows. Really, truly astonishing. (Moon even branches out a bit at the end with some scene cutting and backwards film reels.) My favorite part is when the neighbor complains....
11 p.m. - Bon Iver (Mohawk Patio) - According to the world's #1 all-star Bon Iver fanatic, Paste intern Julia Reidy: "For Emma, Forever Ago is hands-down the best album of the year. It's only March, I know, but I challenge anyone to make me change my mind come December. If he can fill your car the way he does, imagine what he can do with the performance space in a bar."
I've talked about Yeasayer before, but in case you didn't believe me about the awesomeness and the stage mannerisms, check this out:
They were on Conan on Friday, performing "2080" from last year's All Hour Cymbals.
I've been increasingly more interested since I saw them live, and also since a song of theirs came on my clock radio Friday morning. It's not that weird, as I've got my alarm set to WRAS...songs I like come on all the time in the morning. What I did find strange, though, was that the song started at basically the exact second my eyes opened. And that it was called "Sunrise." Come to think of it, waking up to this every day wouldn't suck...
These guys have have thrown up a new video (thanks for the heads-up, Sara!), which you can watch and read all about on Drowned In Sound. And what's more, they're about to go on tour with MAN MAN. (Ack, so happy I can't breathe...neither could Austin, by the looks of that news item...) Even better, when aforementioned tour takes place they'll be stopping at Lenny's. Here. A five minute walk from my apartment. (It's too much! Think of all the flailing!)
For a taste of the glory expected this April from Man Man (through their pals at Anti-), check out the video thang Pitchfork did on them last year:
A live rendition of probably my favorite Man Man song, "Van Helsing Boom Box":
And for the record, Rabbit Habits sounds really good (consider that the FOA stamp of approval, or whatever). It really does. Sigh. Such talent! So many squeaky toys!
Last night, a group of four bright-eyed Paste interns made their way into the wilderness of East Atlanta to see a show. They almost got lost on the way in their excitement, but eventually made it inside The Earl, that friendliest of friendly Atlanta music venues. They were greeted by a half-empty room, as it was still early. The room was bedecked with its usual furnishings - brightly-colored merch in the back complete with sullen merch guy/band memeber, grumpy-looking bartender, viking hat, mood lighting, paintings declaring "Pabst" in scroll lettering. People milled around amid the sound tech's lovely choice of filler music, The Selmanaires' most recent album, The Air Salesmen. It was a good night to be at The Earl.
By "good" though, I do, at least in some part, mean "weird."
Atlanta's own Morning State opened, and though they play around here an awful lot, it was my first time seeing them. They're energetic, but they're not exactly up my alley. One of the final songs of their set really excited me (maybe "Spectacular"?), but I don't know what it was (being as I wasn't, for once, there to review the show!). As the room began to fill, we were a little put-off by the appearance of "those girls." You know, the ones who wear halter tops and spiky heels, pull their hair half up and dance around stupidly - the ones who cannot be old enough to be in this club legally. You don't often see them at The Earl. We were bewildered.
In due time, as the room filled inexplicably with every frat boy inside 285, it became apparent that MGMT (who was to go on second) had switch spots with Yeasayer (who was the original headliner) because of the local pull for MGMT. One of the co-founding members of The Whigs, Hank Sullivant, is playing guitar with MGMT right now, so a lot of folks from nearby came to see them.
Yeasayer:
Though I like MGMT's record better, Yeasayer definitely stole the night for me. Frontman Chris Keating has absolutely hypnotic stage mannerisms and his voice makes me swoon. We were commenting on how he sort of has a Thom Yorke thing going on, but more raucous and with more blood. (Yes, blood! He cut himself on the broken suspended cymbal he was beating on murderously from atop a speaker. That's carnage two weeks in a row at The Earl! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go here.) He seems a man possessed. His hands rise to face level, one holding a microphone, one open, palm inward. He convulses toward the crowd or toward his synthesizer. He bobs. He raises his open hand in the air as if toward the heavens, pulling down music. He climbs. At one point, Keating, gripping the mic as if he feared it would fly away, held it away from his face for a moment. He looked at it. Turned it over for a second. Stared at it with puzzlement, seemingly astonished at its sudden appearance. Maybe for him there was no one else in the room and he was singing into a hairbrush in his bathroom until he realized where he was. (That is, except for the moment when the drunk dude that was high-fiving everyone tried to high-five him. He refused. Didn't want to get him all bloody, you know. Not sanitary.) I was enthralled.
We got to meet him at the merch table later, and he was all ease and friendly energy, none of the expected disconnect from social graces sometimes the hallmark of such bizarrely compelling performers. We asked him how his hand was. His shirt was bloodstained and his thumb was bandaged. Kinda hardcore. He blew off the question - these are the side-effects of the rocker's life. Before we left, he shoved buttons at us and smiled.
After Yeasayer's set, MGMT played to an absolutely packed room. The frat boy that stood right in front of our unfortunate spot in the crowd was at least 6'7". No joke. I got stomped on. My hand got burned with a cigarette (at a no-smoking show!!). It was weird. I had a really hard time paying attention to the music with so much annoyance flying around me. I learned to pay attention in time for "Kids," my favorite MGMT number. My sudden concentration was not to last, though, as Sara came running up halfway through the song, hissing "You will never believe who's here!"
She lead me over toward the bar to stare at him creepily (and as inconspicuously as possible) from across the room. There he stood by the merch table, white-jacketed and slumped humbly, watching the happenings.) Alone. Un-surrounded by an entourage as I, for some reason, expect someone I respect so highly to be.
Here's the kicker. After hanging out in the area while everyone thought about buying the CDs for a bit, I actually walked up to him. I said something blithering, to the effect of "Kevin. Hi. I'm a big fan. I love your work." To which he replied something and TOUCHED MY SHOULDER. I have no idea what he said. I do know he smiled, replied softly and nodded shyly. Who knew he would be so...unlike he is on stage. So un-sexual, un-glam, un-swaggering. Sweet, even. I think I babbled something else that included the word "awesome," to my complete shame, and bounced off toward the others. EEEE! So I was a stupid fan-girl. But I don't care.
We all left satisfied, I think. Everyone got to talk to those they admired. Sara was talking to another member of Yeasayer for a while (she loves them). Tiago talked to Barnes before I did. It was good in the end. And the t-shirts were cheap. I couldn't sleep for hours.
Freelance music journalist/graphic designer for places like Tiny Mix Tapes, Creative Loafing Atlanta, Paste Magazine, Stomp and Stammer, Athens Magazine and Atlanta Music Guide. Former resident of Athens, Ga. Reluctant restaurant employee for nearly a decade.
