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Omega Music, Dayton, Ohio (05/11) In-store at Omega Music during the downtown Urban Nights celebration.
Read More What do you get when you cross the jaded affectation and unbalanced tempo of 90s-era Pavement with the energy of pop punk and the attention span of an ADD-inflicted toddler? Brooklyn’s Old Monk attempt to answer that question with their debut full-length release, Birds of Belize.
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Cause Spirits and Soundbar, Minneapolis 5.9.12
“Well, this band exists” was Ian Burns’ conclusion for the night, in effect echoing what many music critics feel about the neverending procession of “hot new [fill in the blank]” bands marching forth from the Michelle Duggar-sized loins of Brooklyn, NY. It’s too much; Williamsburg is probably really, really tired. This is why when a band like Old Monk enters the scene and sounds like a subversive smear of something weird and fucking loud it forces said critics—me—to sit up and take notice. Old Monk does exist, even if no one else in Minneapolis has noticed (yet).
A Wednesday night at Cause Spirits and Soundbar is kind of a sad event. While the backroom looks great at capacity, with only a few people gathered around the bar and even fewer on the floor the mood is rather bleak. Still, despite the lack of bodies, Old Monk seemed determined to make an impression. Of course, nobody would’ve faulted them for “phoning in” a performance, and maybe they did; but they definitely impressed upon us their ability to be loud. Very loud. At one point during the show some girls made an obvious “this shit’s too noisy!” exodus to, presumably, the quieter land of the Restaurant Next Door. Your loss, ladies. Yes, the shit was noisy, and yes, we’ll likely pay for it years down the road when forced to employ Closed Captioning on our TVs…
HOWEVER.
There are two types of “loud” live music: bands that are loud just to be loud and bands that are loud because it, well, amplifies the other stylistic elements of their music. I’d argue that Old Monk fits within the second group. In my review of Birds of Belize, I described the album as “a quick fix for the twitchy music addict who’s jonesin’ for something fast, jumbled, and a touch miffed” and I stand by that assessment. The listening process is similar to using a piece of cardio equipment at the gym—heart rate goes up a bit, fleeting thoughts of falling off (your stationary exercise machine), a general feeling of unsettledness—in short, a 30-minute sensory workout. When the band cranked up the volume on stage, it complemented their appetite for quirky discourse and somewhat disjointed composition. I may have been seated stoically at the bar, but on the inside I experienced a glorious, status quo-shattering pang of discomfort. As in: “I can’t really tap my foot to the irregular beat and now I don’t know what to do with my feet!” It was liberating. Furthermore, individual songs remained discernible—a quality often lost when musicians get too invested in melting faces; vocalist/guitarist Josh Carrafa even displayed some fancy fingerwork on the opening chords of “Butter & Toast.”
Old Monk played mostly selections from Birds, including the aforementioned “Butter & Toast,” “Napoleon’s Wife,” and the delightfully titled “Warm Moustache,” as well as a few unreleased tracks (one is called “Running Boards,” I believe). That Guy even made an appearance; you know the one: rocking out solo, displaying an awesome-albeit-alarming lack of restraint, possibly throwing up a devil’s horn or two. In truth, I don’t think he could help himself; this sort of music gets under your skin and revives those drowsy nerves (especially for us Minnesotans, whose nerves tend to die during the winter months).
Old Monk is Josh Carrafa (vocals/guitar), Ian Burns (drums), and Tsugumi Takashi (bass). The trio will wrap up their West Coast tour with a final stop in Dayton, OH. If you live in New York, be sure to check out a loud live show. For everyone else, visit the band’s Website / Facebook to keep abreast of future touring plans, download a copy of Birds of Belize, and/or peruse the many Instagram photos of roadtrip curiosities.
“Well, this band exists” was Ian Burns’ conclusion for the night, in effect echoing what many music critics feel about the neverending procession of “hot new [fill in the blank]” bands marching forth from the Michelle Duggar-sized loins of Brooklyn, NY. It’s too much; Williamsburg is probably really, really tired. This is why when a band like Old Monk enters the scene and sounds like a subversive smear of something weird and fucking loud it forces said critics—me—to sit up and take notice. Old Monk does exist, even if no one else in Minneapolis has noticed (yet).
A Wednesday night at Cause Spirits and Soundbar is kind of a sad event. While the backroom looks great at capacity, with only a few people gathered around the bar and even fewer on the floor the mood is rather bleak. Still, despite the lack of bodies, Old Monk seemed determined to make an impression. Of course, nobody would’ve faulted them for “phoning in” a performance, and maybe they did; but they definitely impressed upon us their ability to be loud. Very loud. At one point during the show some girls made an obvious “this shit’s too noisy!” exodus to, presumably, the quieter land of the Restaurant Next Door. Your loss, ladies. Yes, the shit was noisy, and yes, we’ll likely pay for it years down the road when forced to employ Closed Captioning on our TVs…
HOWEVER.
There are two types of “loud” live music: bands that are loud just to be loud and bands that are loud because it, well, amplifies the other stylistic elements of their music. I’d argue that Old Monk fits within the second group. In my review of Birds of Belize, I described the album as “a quick fix for the twitchy music addict who’s jonesin’ for something fast, jumbled, and a touch miffed” and I stand by that assessment. The listening process is similar to using a piece of cardio equipment at the gym—heart rate goes up a bit, fleeting thoughts of falling off (your stationary exercise machine), a general feeling of unsettledness—in short, a 30-minute sensory workout. When the band cranked up the volume on stage, it complemented their appetite for quirky discourse and somewhat disjointed composition. I may have been seated stoically at the bar, but on the inside I experienced a glorious, status quo-shattering pang of discomfort. As in: “I can’t really tap my foot to the irregular beat and now I don’t know what to do with my feet!” It was liberating. Furthermore, individual songs remained discernible—a quality often lost when musicians get too invested in melting faces; vocalist/guitarist Josh Carrafa even displayed some fancy fingerwork on the opening chords of “Butter & Toast.”
Old Monk played mostly selections from Birds, including the aforementioned “Butter & Toast,” “Napoleon’s Wife,” and the delightfully titled “Warm Moustache,” as well as a few unreleased tracks (one is called “Running Boards,” I believe). That Guy even made an appearance; you know the one: rocking out solo, displaying an awesome-albeit-alarming lack of restraint, possibly throwing up a devil’s horn or two. In truth, I don’t think he could help himself; this sort of music gets under your skin and revives those drowsy nerves (especially for us Minnesotans, whose nerves tend to die during the winter months).
Old Monk is Josh Carrafa (vocals/guitar), Ian Burns (drums), and Tsugumi Takashi (bass). The trio will wrap up their West Coast tour with a final stop in Dayton, OH. If you live in New York, be sure to check out a loud live show. For everyone else, visit the band’s Website / Facebook to keep abreast of future touring plans, download a copy of Birds of Belize, and/or peruse the many Instagram photos of roadtrip curiosities.
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