W♥M

Flashback: J. Tillman at the Music Box Theatre, Minneapolis (2009-11-06)

Read More Father John Misty J. Tillman under his moniker Father John Misty will be back in Minneapolis this April 4th, in support of his latest Sub Pop album I Love You, Honeybear. …

Before he was Father John Misty, he was known as Josh Tillman, or rather by his billing stagename, J. Tillman. We caught J Tillman at the Music Box, which is an old converted theater in the Loring Park area.

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Despite his minor fame with unpopular, critically-ignored ------ Fleet Foxes, Josh Tillman has been active in the music scene since 2004.  This past September he released Year in the Kingdom, a 9-track odyssey through stoic mountain towns by way of moderate folk sensitivity.  Merely 28, Tillman evokes an image of timeless worldly servitude that befits his preferred musical genre but also confuses.  He acts the part in person—bearded, casually nondescript, a man of few words; yet once he hits that first note, it’s obvious there’s something judicious beneath the weathered layers.  For one, the quality of his voice is beautiful.  There is simply no masculine way to describe it.  The probability that Tillman drinks and indulges like a big boy is high, but you wouldn’t know by listening to him sing.  Perhaps the impressive facial shrub is actually a clever disguise, masking a sweet, even-tempered fellow who rescues kitties and bakes things for charity.  Doubtful, but my point being Tillman’s ambiguity—it’s equally believable that he wandered into town from the wide blue yonder as it is that he stumbled on stage from the local, artist-packed watering hole.

Year in the Kingdom remembers a simpler era that Tillman was not alive to experience.  Softer tracks cite 60s folk influences like Joni Mitchell, had Mitchell penned her songs in a humble log cabin, without basic comforts save for canned beans and a faithful canine companion.  The sparse “Age of Man” is a few twangs/few stringed instruments short of Americana territory, while “Though I Have Wronged You” reminds us that Tillman isn’t seriously concerned by FF comparisons.  At times matter-of-factly somber (“There is No Good in Me”), the album lulls its listeners into a false feeling of peace (albeit reflective, disquieting peace) that does not prepare the ears for the sheer force of Tillman’s live rocking.

J Tillman

Kingdom-the-album clashed awesomely with Friday night’s show at the Music Box Theatre in Minneapolis.  I now have a physical point of reference for the expression “it blew my mind,” as I’m pretty sure I lost a piece of my skull when Tillman blew my mind.  Similar to the structure of the studio tracks—gentle start, build-up, full instrumental progression—the show began as one would expect had they listened to Kingdom:  Tillman + band = traditional 3-dimensional engagement.  Then, maybe a third of the way into the set, all hell broke loose.  Cue roar of full instrumental capacity, skin-tingling whine of amped slide guitar, psychedelic transformation, and crazy apeshit thrashing.  On top of everything unholy, we, the audience, bore witness to grown men playing plastic recorders and finger cymbals. Surely I wasn’t the only one to lose some head mass by the end of the night.

Cerebral hemorrhage notwithstanding, strong tracks like “Though I Have Wronged You” sounded ridiculously swollen with intensity and deliberate flair.  Not showy, per se; rather, phrenic but perverted by foggy invention.  It was like walking into the Louvre for the first time—extraordinary but strangely unfocused, as if the senses were forced into overdrive.  Had I lapped a taste of Tillman’s sweat*, the experience would’ve been complete.  Unfortunately, there was no exchange of bodily fluids; there wasn’t even an encore (a mumbled “thanks” and the musicians made their hasty exit).  It didn’t matter.  How do you follow an act like yourself?

A few random thoughts without homes:  in high school, Tillman visited Crown, a conservative Christian college in St. Bonifacius, MN; Miracle Whip is the default condiment of Fargo, ND, this according to the band; Josh’s younger brother, Zach, opened the show and also played bass for the elder Tillman’s set.

J. Tillman is currently on tour in support of Year in the Kingdom.  Upcoming shows include stops in Chicago and New York.  For more information or to listen to select tracks, visit his Myspace. 

* I’m not a creeper, promise.

J. Tillman at the Music Box Theatre, Minneapolis (06 Nov 2009)

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Flashback: The Brunettes at the 7th Street Entry, Minneapolis (26 Aug 2009)

Read More The Brunettes I like accents (the Brunettes hail from New Zealand). What I don’t like is being force-fed high levels of “cute” AND watching in horror as said “cute” manifests itself as an interactive Urban Outfitters window display. …

Lara went to see New Zealand’s The Brunettes play the 7th Street Entry in August 2009. The one thing I’ve learned is that everyone in the band, including Jonathan Bree and Heather Mansfield, are “ridiculously attractive.”

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The Brunettes @ the 7^th St. Entry, Minneapolis 8.26.09

OR

R.I.P. Twee

Wednesday night the Brunettes played to a fairly underage crowd, which is usually the outcome when you mix indie pop with summer break. Because I am old and cranky, I resented the children and their positive attitudes.  So I drank more to counteract the offenders. Interestingly, two beers in I discovered a few things worthy of note: 1). It’s possible that one of my legs is longer than the other, or that one of my shoes is more worn down than the other! 2). the “dress over jeans” style of the early 90s is back and popular amongst teenagers born in the early 90s! 3). the Brunettes have so many percussion instruments!

It’s true. Number three is true. Besides the obvious and boring drums, select members of the band also played the triangle, castanets, wood blocks, glock, and the human hands. There was a lot of clapping in sync, a few failed attempts at starting a clap-a-long, several rounds of “la la la-ing,” one doll-sized piano, one man in white jeans, two pretty girls with long Chan Marshall hair, and plenty of awkward postmodern chit chat about buttholes and poop (just kidding, I don’t remember). Yes, friends, it was that kind of show.

Now, in theory, I have no problem with those kinds of shows. I like the triangle. I like visible discomfort. I like accents (the Brunettes hail from New Zealand). What I don’t like is being force-fed high levels of “cute” AND watching in horror as said “cute” manifests itself as an interactive Urban Outfitters window display. I guess musicians are not aware of the very important Seventeen Magazine life advice that tells us boobs are sexier when covered because it’s a sign of self-control and self-control is sexy (take that, translucent mesh halter top!). I think these wise words could also apply to bands on cute overload. Behold the unhealthy levels of precious:

- Ridiculously attractive band members. Question: if you look like a little porcelain doll, do you train yourself to be talented too, or are some people just blessed with better gifts? Another question: how do the beautiful find each other to start bands and stuff? Craigslist?

- Heather Mansfield’s twee voice. I’m not convinced that singing in boys’ choir range actually constitutes singing. It’s more like making a long, drawn-out mouth noise.

- An overall feeling of meticulous, stylized awareness, like how the Monkees impersonated the Beatles and still had hits.

It’s a shame, really, because the songs aren’t rotten. Sure, they have titles like “Loopy Loopy Love” and “Brunettes Against Bubblegum Youth,” but these are no worse than Yo La Tengo’s moppet lingo discography. Twee is such a flimsy, absentminded genre it’s nearly impossible to find profundity amongst the milkshakes and thick-rimmed glasses. (Twee is a Sofia Coppola film: pretty but vacant.) Strip a twee song of its prettiness and you’re left with the adolescent musings of a dreamer. Trouble is, we grow up. Perhaps the most disappointing moment of Wednesday’s show was the realization that cute is no longer enough. Likewise, we all know that seeking higher standards is totally being an adult, which is frightening to those of us in transitional stages. This begs the question: are you ever truly an adult if you’re in a twee band?

The seemingly adult Brunettes are Jonathan Bree and Heather Mansfield, plus a rotating lineup of additional musicians. They formed in 1998 but didn’t officially release an album until 2002 (Holding Hands, Feeding Ducks). Since 2002 the band’s issued two full-length albums and two EPs; Structure and Cosmetics is their latest album, released on Sub Pop in 2007. Currently, the Brunettes are on tour. Visit their website (via Lil’ Chief Records) or Myspace for more info.

The Brunettes at the 7th Street Entry, Minneapolis (26 Aug 2009) courtesy of CultureBully

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Flashback: KaiserCartel at the Cedar Cultural Center, Minneapolis (09 May 2009)

Read More KaiserCartel KaiserCartel, the couple-duo that that we love here at W♥M just celebrated their CD-releasing party at the Cedar in Minneapolis, on June 17th. …

Lara went out to see Minnesota-loving KaiserCartel (Courtney Kaiser and Benjamin Cartel) on May 9, 2009, at the Cedar Cultural Center.

I’m almost certain KaiserCartel (or sometime spelled as Kaiser Cartel) is no more. However, Benjamin Cartel, continues performing as himself in 2014. The last time I heard from him was via his second solo album Flickering Light in 2018.

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NOTE: This event was organized by Minnesota music blog, Culture Bully. They have photos of the show here.

KaiserCartel - Courtney Kaiser and Benjamin Cartel’s history reads like a perfect twee memoir: both are elementary school teachers, both play a handful of instruments (guitar, drums, xylophone, accordion-thing-that-I-am-unable-to-identify, whistling), both dress like gothic country ball guests, both are obviously in love (with each other). It’s almost too darling to digest. If this were an episode of Sesame Street, I would say “Tonight’s concert is brought to you by the letter ‘A’ for ADORABLE.”

I’m getting nauseous with whimsy glee just writing this out.

Saturday’s show at the Cedar was a generation-fest of sorts. The ambience was chill and the crowd was soft, pleasant, malleable…like a delicious loaf of Wonder Bread (ifyouknowwhatI’msaying*). Hip, art school wannabes mingled with real-life senior citizens, sweatshirted couples were seated next to teenagers and their parents; the average age was probably mid-20s to early 30s, but the maturity level was at least a decade wiser. Maybe it was the style of music—a less frenetic brand of folk-pop, tame for children and the elderly—or it could’ve been the venue (the Cedar’s layout is seating room only), or even that the musicians appeared unassuming and also currently clean. Whatever the reason, KaiserCartel’s gentle-cum-hand clap cheer suited the Cedar’s intimate space.

Being only minimally in the know, I wasn’t familiar with KaiserCartel’s interesting use of multiple instruments. The duo may be primarily guitar and percussion, but if their musical bag of tricks is any indication, I’m 99% certain that the goal is amusement as much as it is creative conception (on one song Kaiser pulled out a comically small xylophone and proceeded to play it with an electric drink frother). Besides being adorable, Kaiser’s vocal chops call to mind the iconic female folk singers of past (a less warbled Joan Baez or Judy Collins), by way of “adult contemporary” mellow rockers Cowboy Junkies—the same rich confidence steeped in pop melodies. To be honest, it’s a tad strange hearing a Brooklyn band that doesn’t harness the brash fury of cynical youth and is, instead, somewhat old-timey in their adorations. Live, standout tracks included “Okay” (a semi-sweet duet that touches on imperfect love), “Season Song” (whistling! In key!), and “Shira,” the latter performed acoustic, stripped down, and amongst the audience (complete with the kind of uncomfortable eye contact that unearths years of repressed campfire memories).

As Vu mentioned in his review of March Forth, KaiserCartel loooove Minnesota. They opened for local indie looker/Trekkie/Jeremy Messersmith, who has a beard, a guitar, an Andy, and a fondness for Minneapolis—“Franklin Ave.,” “Light Rail” (yes, we have a light rail; it only has three destinations). More about Messersmith later. Promise.

KaiserCartel is on tour. Check their Myspace or website for information. Their debut LP, March Forth, released in June of last year, is available for purchase through their website or iTunes/Amazon/various e-consumerist hubs.

* Although the Cedar boasts an eclectic mixing of genres, like Irish folk and world beats, the clientele generally veers due White.

KaiserCartel at Cedar Cultural, Minneapolis (09 May 2009) photo by Jon Behm

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Flashback: Kevin Steinman & Zack Hexum at 400 Bar, Minneapolis (07 May 2009)

Read More Kevin Steinman Hexum invited Kevin Steinman on stage for a duet. Here’s some math that you might not be aware of: male singer + female singer = adorable/ovaries swelling. Female singer + female singer = sexy (or, conversely, the Indigo Girls). … Zack Hexum Zack Hexum has the “Swine Cold,” a terrible mutant strain of the original “Swine Flu.” He’s dangerous and wants to spread the virus by touching people with his hands. . …

Lara went out to check out Kevin Steinman at the 400 Bar on May 7, 2009.

It’s funny to note that 311 singer Nick Hexum is the older brother to Zack Hexum.

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Zack Hexum has the “Swine Cold,” a terrible mutant strain of the original “Swine Flu.” He’s dangerous and wants to spread the virus by touching people with his hands. Don’t be fooled by his boyish good looks—ZACK HEXUM IS A MONSTER. JK, readers! ROFLCOPTER!* Hexum is wholly sweet and friendly and a real trooper (he played a full set plus duets with Kevin Steinman, all while battling flu-ish symptoms). Even though he reminds me of a hot soap opera doctor, Hexum has that big boy voice that is always surprising coming from the mouths of such teeny, tiny human beings (see: Ben Sollee).

Thursday’s show at the 400 Bar was nice and mellow, a bit beachy (if beach jams were played under low lights in dank clubs); maybe one-part pop soul, two parts college rock, and a splash of Hollister “SoCal.” While Hexum sang confidently, head thrown back, eyes closed, heart showing—which is just, you know, sigh—I’m not sure that his lyrics had me at “hello” (mumbling musicians make me merry mrustrated). I’d hoped that “Princess of Darkness” would be a cute-sad ode to Kelly Osbourne, but it seems, instead, to be about a gloomy wallflower type (could still be about KO). Nevertheless, live versions of “Sun Still Shines” and “How Many Times” were enjoyable and people-pleasing (this was a “yeah, dude!” crowd) and very much the style of music that primetime TV drools over. Zack Hexum paging Zach Braff: “Writing any interesting screenplays about depressed twenty-something existentialists lately?”

Instead of breaking to set up more instruments, get more beer, and/or allowing patrons to smoke a motherfucking cigarette, Hexum invited Kevin Steinman on stage for a duet. Here’s some math that you might not be aware of: male singer + female singer = adorable/ovaries swelling. Female singer + female singer = sexy (or, conversely, the Indigo Girls). Male singer + male singer = asexual/mildly homoerotic**. Watching Hexum and Steinman sing together was like watching Olympic divers—attractive bodies doing impressive things, but nobody’s getting turned on. Possible repressed sexual urges aside, Steinman said some nice things about his duet partner—he considers Hexum a musical soulmate and they have a code word for calling each other to the stage (the Norwegian term for ‘meatball’). Fittingly, they covered songs by iconic bands with great creative relationships, including the Beatles (“If I Fell”) and the Everly Brothers (“All I Have to Do is Dream”). True to Steinman’s word, the pair sounded lovely; their voices complemented nicely and the harmonies were spot on. A lot of dorky things happened on that stage (Hexum played a clarinet; Steinman played the glock; too much meatball was thrown around), but I couldn’t help smiling through most of it.

After Hexum exited, Steinman and his drummer (Troy Groenke) carried on. I really like this combo when it’s not the White Stripes. If a singer-songwriter isn’t ready to go full band, a positive small progression is to add a drummer to the mix; at the very least, this helps discourage the “open mic” feel of so many solo guitar acts. I had seen Steinman play a couple months back, opening for Joe January, but in all honesty, had very little recollection of the show. I did remember, however, that Steinman met his wife through Myspace, a fact that’s completely irrelevant and fascinating to me. As a lyricist, Steinman writes about the romantic side of life—love, heartache, self journey, love, love, love. In person his mild-mannered spirit and brooding good looks suit the prose; I have a hard time not imagining him tucked in the corner of a coffee shop, scribbling furiously in his moleskin journal. While it’s difficult to breach the formulaic barriers of traditional love songs, it helps that Steinman’s M.O. doesn’t follow the route of novelty or tacky pretense; instead, he seems at a comfortable place, one where authenticity is measured by dedication to the craft. Songs like “Home” and “Love Always Wins” (it doesn’t, but thanks) are not going to blow minds, but the whole product—the melodies, the voice, the man—is just so likeable and likeability always wins. THEN, it was towards the end of the show and Steinman pulled a little trick from his sleeve, a sort of politically-charged, conversational verse with wit up the yin yang. “55 Year Occupation Blues, or, Mom and Dad Won’t You Please Come Home” questions the implications of stationing American troops all over the world and speaks of Steinman’s experiences growing up in Germany while his parents taught at special Department of Defense-funded schools. Where did this come from? Is there more? These are the questions I’m left with. (Watch Steinman perform “55 Year Occupation Blues” in Berlin HERE.)

Two things must be noted: 1). I’m getting nicer in my older age, and 2). You can find more information on both artists at their respective websites and Myspace pages (see below). Kevin Steinman will be at the 318 Café in Excelsior, MN this Friday, May 15.

* Just learned this. I think it’s a helicopter that is rolling on the floor laughing or something.

** I’m not insinuating anything on the Internet, folks, but the two musicians did close the show with a Bert and Ernie song. I think we can all guess what that means.

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Flashback: Soul Asylum at OLL Blast, Mound (02 May 2009)

Read More Soul Asylum Yeah we knew the tiny 7th Street Entry could not contain all the fans for Soul Asylum, or as we kid that it's just the Dave Pirner band.... Both dates at 7th Street Entry … Honeydogs The game started with Minnesota's legendary The Honeydogs. The rather large seven-member league, led by star hitter Adam Levy, rose to popularity when they played …

Lara and Kate went to see “the greatest band ever to come out of Minnesota”, Soul Asylum in Mound, on May 2, 2009.

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Remember when rock bands had long hair and wore flannel for comfort, not irony, and remember when they’d stumble around doing crazy things like PLAYING GUITARS WITH BEER BOTTLES and SPRINTING FROM ONE END OF THE STAGE TO THE OTHER? F*** the 80s revival, the 90s was obviously a superior decade. Allow me to list the evidence: fashion-stagnant icons (“grunge”), Winona Ryder’s snatch (been there, done that), glorified nasal tones, and, most importantly, a general dismissal of happiness in favor of talking about doing important things while doing nothing (see “Reality Bites” for reference).

On Saturday, Our Lady of the Lake Church hosted The Greatest Band Ever…to Come out of Minnesota between the Years of 1992 and 1995. That’s right, mofos, I’m talking about Soul Asylum. This band not only fulfills every 90s era requisite, as listed above*, but as a bonus singer Dave Pirner still appears to be living in the 90s, as confirmed by his torn jeans and Aquaman t-shirt. It was—and I’m being completely sincere—an amazing night.

The Honeydogs photo: Kate

The show opened with another local favorite, The Honeydogs, who brought horns for the occasion. Like many bands of a certain age and ilk, the Honeydogs are best heard live. As a studio group, their music is straightforward mature rock with an unusual lyrical edge over similar acts (early song themes include race relations and cultural alienation). Fussy twenty-somethings may not appreciate the band’s tame anthemic style or the crowd draw of mostly L.L Bean-clad professionals, to which I say “fair enough, but how many mid-90s bands can lure hundreds of fans to Mound, Minnesota (population 9,435, birthplace of Kevin Sorbo) and pull off a slim jean designed for men half their ages?” (The answer is: at least two.) I should also mention that the quote of the night goes to Adam Levy who charmed the (presumably conservative) audience with a few deliberate “support your troops” cheers:

Levy: (after informing us that his once-teenage son had intended to enlist) “By the way, my son never went to Iraq. He discovered mushrooms instead.”

Soul Asylum photo: Kate

I think you know you’ve “made it,” or in Soul Asylum’s case, “made it, lost it, and re-made it,” when you have a man whose sole responsibility is to hand you your guitar (or in Soul Asylum’s case, physically position the guitar in your arms). Dave Pirner has (re)made it. Another testament to your lasting fame is the number of women available to carry your child (at least one; she knocked me in the head while frantically waving her arms in what I determined to be code for “please infiltrate me with your love tool”). Dave Pirner still has it. Regardless of the holy location, Soul Asylum rocked the Devil’s music in a hard way, pulling out all the stops; never have I seen middle-aged men attempt—and almost succeed at—sweaty, dated stage acrobatics like Pirner’s hip gyrations (still sexy) and Dan Murphy’s awkward guitar slide. At one point I turned to my friend and said “I feel as though I’m having a childhood experience that I never actually had” (this was likely during “Misery”). And yes, I know what you’re wondering: they still play “Runaway Train.” In fact, despite years of heavy substance intake, Pirner’s voice sounded pretty good. He looked pretty good too; moving about in a youthful manner, as I mentioned earlier, as well as telling some jokes, smiling, acting gracious and friendly…it seems that the bratty rock star grew up.

The band played a full set plus encore, where Kraig Johnson, formerly of the Jayhawks, joined in for a few crowd-pleasing covers (“My Generation,” “Should I Stay or Should I Go”). Johnson made a hasty exit after some trashy bitch threw a plastic beer cup at him (don’t worry, Tommy Stinson was ready with a hug**) and the show concluded with Pirner inviting his roadies onstage to play a few notes and later to pack up the instruments.

I have no idea if Soul Asylum are touring. Their website hasn’t been updated since 2008, but feel free to dream. The Honeydogs are a bit more prolific, with local shows later this summer.

UPDATE: Soul Asylum has a handful of upcoming shows, as per their Myspace.

* Dave Pirner had a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo in “Reality Bites”
** Stinson (The Replacements) joins the band on bass and Michael Bland (Prince) replaces former drummer Karl Mueller, who passed away in 2005.

Soul Asylum at OLL Blast, Mound (02 May 2009) photo by Kate

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Flashback: Blitzen Trapper at First Avenue, Minneapolis (18 Feb 2009)

Read More Blitzen Trapper Blitzen Trapper will be taking over the First Avenue main room on Sunday, October 4th and you will definitely want to be there. I have never been able to see these …

I have seen Blitzen Trapper at the Triple Rock Social Club in Minneapolis on July 29, 2007.

Blitzen Trapper at Triple Rock Club, Minneapolis (29 July 2007)

I can say it now, but when I saw them at the Triple Rock, it wasn’t a very good turnout, due to the fact it was a Sunday night. The band was really late to the venue because of roadwork on Highway 61. It wasn’t the band’s finest hour, especially going on cold without a soundcheck.

Fortunately, for Lara’s show, at First Avenue, on February 18, 2009, the show was “packed”...

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Originally scheduled to perform at the Varsity Theatre in Minneapolis, Blitzen Trapper outdid themselves with fan-age and the show was moved to the much larger First Ave. “Danceteria.” Even so, the club was packed—not packed in the fun way, when a girl can casually rub against a sweaty young hipster and still play coy, but packed like a big awkward sardine tin, with the majority of the crowd standing, immobile, clutching Red Stripes and sort of doing the head bob. Weird, huh. I mean, Blitzen Trapper are certainly no Dance Band, but you’d think they’ve earned a few arm thrusts, maybe some leg spasms, at least a pogo or two (the shit’s going to rain on me for that comment; pogo = bad)*.

Blitzen Trapper have been described as “experimental folk,” but I say this with a smirk, as it seems these days, any band that writes lyrics concerning farms or hills or serial killers is deemed “folk-y”**. Similarly, any band that uses synth as a garnish (and not as a main course, a la New Wave/proponents of New Wave), gets a broad ‘experimental’ tagged onto their name. Thus, “experimental folk” is born; though, I have some problems with calling a band whose frontman occasionally enters the Tom Petty sing-talk-groove territory “experimental.” 2008’s Furr may have folk-ish tendencies, but it also rocks (kinda) hard (“Sleepytime in the Western World” sounds positively 70s and makes me think of being inside some dive and throwing a drink in a man’s face).

On Wednesday, I managed to arrive at First Ave. just as opener Alela Diane was finishing her set (unreliable public transportation; cigarette). Unfortunately for me (and also for Alela Diane fans), the crowd chatter was so obnoxiously loud that instead of music, I heard entire conversations about bangin’ chicks (classy crowd chatter). The talking might not have seemed so obvious had Diane’s vocals and instrumentation been more suited to the large venue (the Varsity would fit her perfectly). It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t the crowd’s fault (maybe it was the crowd’s fault a little—give children more space and they feel the need to be unruly); still, the lukewarm beginning did not bode well for the rest of the evening.

By the time Blitzen Trapper took the stage most of the chatter had dissipated. This was the first time I’d seen BT live, but from what I’ve heard, they have a reputation as an inconsistent live act. General consensus within the blogging community has been ambivalence—this was not one of their stellar performances. Still, I would hardly call the show bad. For now I’ll give them the benefit of doubt: switching to a big, dirty historic concert hall from a smaller, curtain-festooned, lounge setting could potentially be vexing. I enjoyed live versions of “Not Your Lover,” “Black River Killer” (my favorite strange little gothic country narrative), and the abovementioned “Sleepytime in the Western World.” The band looked good (I made a comment about how singer Eric Earley sort of looks like Jeff Tweedy from a great, great, great distance), sounded good, played good. It was one of those “good” shows: no surprises, no special energy, no funny in-between song jokes, no extra credit. A solid B show (B- if you factor in the apathetic crowd).

Blitzen Trapper is currently on tour with Alela Diane supporting. The next few dates are East Coast shows; for more information, visit their Myspace or Website.

*At one point during the show I did notice that somewhere in the horizon, near the stage, far from our standing place, a small group of girls were doing something that resembled dancing!

**I’ve done it. More than once.

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Flashback: Joe January at 400 Bar, Minneapolis (05 Feb 2009)

Read More Joe January This Thursday, Feb. 5, Joe January (formerly of Planes for Spaces) is kicking off a month-long residency at the 400 Bar in anticipation of the release of Broken Record, his debut solo album. Joe’s niche seems to be rooted in the classics: classic rock, a little folk-y, a little East Village troubadour …

It’s harder to book national bands in Minneapolis, due to the harsh winter. To keep the stage booked, venues would often ask local musicians to play a month-long residency. For February 2009, the 400 Bar booked Joe January to play every Thursday. There’s a joke in there, seeing January in February.

Anyway, Lara braved the snow to see Joe January (formerly of Planes for Spaces) on his first Thursday in his month-long residency.

Please note that the photo of Joe January at 400 Bar was taken by Brody on March 5, 2009.

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All right.  I’ll just put this out there:  Joe’s a friend of mine.  You may think this makes me biased when it comes to reviewing something that he’s created, but it really doesn’t, for two reasons:  1).  I’m always honest when it comes to art, and 2).  I’m not nice.

When I first saw Joe January perform solo, I remember thinking “okay, okay, good lyrics, good songs, but…” and that ‘but’ wasn’t even defined until later, while listening to some sad-sack acoustic whatever at home and deciding that most men and their guitars need more friends—friends with basses and drum kits.  Unless you’re Jeff Buckley, Elliott Smith, Dylan, or Jesus it’s unlikely that you’re capable of sitting alone on stage and convincing the audience that your pain is their pain (and lest we forget that all three of those artists plugged it in/turned it up at some point during their careers (Jesus too.  Would it be tasteless to call him the original “rock revivalist?”). Most musicians require something…meaty—a guttural oomph, a pathetically somber guitar twang, even a steady, explicit beat. I’m sorry that I have to say this; in a dream world a man and his guitar could (and would) be enough—enough to convey the emotion behind a simple prose verse. But before words there was sound, and I feel comfortable emphasizing the importance of having a full, distinct sound. Basically, I’m just tired of the “singer-songwriter,” which is a horrible descriptor, because all singers should also be songwriters (and yes, I realize the naïveté of that statement. Let’s move on).

Joe’s sound is one that requires a bit of concentration; he mumbles sometimes, and occasionally pulls back from the microphone. It’s as engaging as it is frustrating (as someone who writes about music), since there were a few moments where I felt tempted to yell something socially inept, like “Can you please repeat that line, I forgot to take notes!” While he doesn’t have the voice to satisfy Belle and Sebastian fans, I’m so tearfully grateful that his style fails to suggest a twee wet dream about to flood (there’s a time and place for sedate little ponderings about cute girls at the coffee shop, like at the coffee shop). He’s not obscure at all, and I might even describe what he’s doing as obvious, but with the trickiness of semantics, I don’t want our readers to think I’m calling his music trite or played out. The contrary, actually, I use ‘obvious’ in the same way that someone might say “I understand what you’re doing because I feel the same.”

It’s also obvious that Joe is interested in the technical side of music-making; listen to his covers—“Bennie and the Jets” is no longer a showy, middle-age foot stomper (bless Elton John), instead he performs it understated, stripped of flamboyance; there’s even a slight bucolic quality (its sparse rhythm lends itself to late-night country driving). Isaac Hayes’ “Shaft” theme (you heard me) is similarly made-under as a cool, semi-serious/still-funny, semi-foxy/still-funny tribute to the greatest, self-proclaimed sex machine (intermixed with Dionne Warwick’s “Walk On By”; admittedly, I didn’t recognize this at first, or it didn’t register; a testament to Joe’s musical reupholstering?). Besides the covers, Joe reserved ample time for original songs, most of which, I’d assume, are candidates for his upcoming record. “Oh Lilly” is catchy enough, an anti-weepy reflection on heartache and heartbreak that ends with the question no girl ever wants to hear (“You know I want you / but do I need you?”). “Keep it Together,” one of my faves from earlier shows, resonated better with the addition of the band; other songs were played solo and sounded fine, if not slightly incomplete. Perhaps this feeling was amplified by how awkwardly everyone repositioned themselves/left the stage; I thought maybe they were practicing for the encore “fake-out.” Awkwardness notwithstanding (and let’s be real here, who doesn’t appreciate a few minutes of uncomfortable silence to buy more beer?), I thoroughly enjoyed the music and thoroughly recommend it, and yes, my biases are showing. I don’t care, go support the rock.

Joe and his guitar are playing every Thursday this month at the 400 Bar in Minneapolis. He’s joined on stage by John Taillon (bass) and Dave Mehling (drums). For more information: Myspace and 400 Bar.

Joe January at 400 Bar, Minneapolis (05 Mar 2009) photo by Brody

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Flashback: Broken Social Scene at First Avenue, Minneapolis (13 Oct 2008)

Read More Broken Social Scene One of the most important Canadian band Broken Social Scene is making their return to Minnesota at the Palace Theatre next Thursday. The all-star collective …

It looks like Lara and Dolly decided to do math problems over at the Broken Social Scene show at First Avenue in Minneapolis on October 13, 2008. As you may, or may not, know, practically every musician in Canada is a member of BSS, including Kevin Drew, Brendan Canning, that woman from Metric (Emily Haines), that woman from Stars (Amy Millan), etc. Seriously, everyone is a member of Broken Social Scene.

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Here is a math problem: At any given moment a few dozen Broken Social Scene band members exist on this planet, creating Music! (M!), either collectively or individually. If k = Kevin Drew, b = Brendan Canning, i = instruments and their humans, and f = previous female vocalists with established solo careers and/or have been featured in Apple commercials, then solve for M!:

(k + b) + 20i) – 2f = M!

Watching BSS perform on Monday was similar to watching a math genius write some really long complex equation on a chalkboard: confusing, nauseating, awesome, mentally painful, impressive, bizarre-o, nice. It’s literally impossible for me to describe the show in a logical, succinct fashion because in order to do so I would probably need to create new words like “bogglebang” and “fantizzle“ and I’m just really tired. Instead, what follows is a bulleted list of highlights from the show, immediately followed by some lowlights. Both lists are underlined:

List of Highlights

Brendan Canning (“beardy”) literally leaping into the air, defying age and science (and answering the question: what would Peter Pan look like if he grew up and didn’t shave for ten years?).

Kevin Drew peeling off a used band-aid and tossing it into the audience (not on eBay yet).

Two men in business casual dress high-fiving each other after a particularly awesome/nauseating “song.”

On a similar note, the ratio of hipsters to normal people was surprisingly not 500:2.

KD attempting to crowd surf but actually sort of walking off the stage into the audience. I think he was giving hugs.

Sam Goldberg of curiously (and probably ironically) named Canadian group Hawaii singing THE SEXIEST SONG EVER: “Three Thousand Miles.”

LOUD. At one point Goldberg mouthed “loud” to a bandmate. Yeah, I know dude, I’m standing right in front of a giant speaker.

BSS fans are easy to please! KD promised to “rock his guts out” for us but could have stood on stage eating a sandwich, judging by the crowd’s apeshit reaction to every single song (even the bad ones).

Some Lowlights

The “impromptu jam” inspired the dude in front of me to initiate air drumming.

A large cluster of unwashed youth obstructed my view of the large cluster of unwashed musicians; stepping on (my own) gum was also upsetting.

This may be sacrilegious to say, but: sometimes the dizzying instrumental outros made me feel like I needed to use the bathroom.

Adorable Liz Powell (of Land of Talk) contributed pretty lady sounds to the man mix but had to leave early due to strained vocal cords (or maybe she was gettin’ some backstage. Who knows, really).

Lowlights notwithstanding, BSS was pretty fucking awesome (am I right, apeshit fans? Yeah! Trumpets!). I’m going to guess that the reason why the band has such a loyal, diverse following is their ability to produce accessible “experimental” music, in the same vein as The Flaming Lips or a more convoluted Arcade Fire. You can dance like a crazy person or you can just, you know, stand there and robotically move your head, it doesn’t matter. That’s the beauty of this type of music—it’s embracing (and forgiving). Supposedly the band played, like, seventeen encores and then KD refused to leave the stage or something. We didn’t stay. Another thing about accessible experimental rock shows is that you can leave any time and still feel fulfilled and generally positive about life (take that, techno!).

Broken Social Scene is currently on tour, through November (select dates with Land of Talk). Visit their website for more information.

* This is also one of three ways that math can be applied to real life. The other ways are: calculating tips and teaching math.

Broken Social Scene at First Avenue, Minneapolis (13 Oct 2008) photo by Dolly

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Flashback: Rachael Yamagata at the Fine Line Music Cafe, Minneapolis (02 Oct 2008)

Read More Rachael Yamagata Rachael Yamagata is back at the Varsity Theater in Minneapolis as part of her "Dealbreaker Heart Tour". It was only about six months ago was she just here ...

In the latest adventure with Kate and Lara… they went out to see Rachael Yamagata at the Fine Line Music Café in Minneapolis on October 2, 2008. As usual, they don’t have a camera, so no photos from this show… but they paint a picture that Vu thinks Yamagata is “mega-watt hot”.

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My two lovely dates and I arrived at the Fine Line on Thursday to an overly crowded room of sweaty and shouty douches. I have to admit that I wasn’t very interested in being there at all on a weeknight as I am old and crotchety; but I also have to admit that, apart from the guy on crutches who seemed alright, the majority of the people at the show on Thursday seemed to be transplanted from a Taylor Swift appearance at the State Fair. Needless to say, I started out the evening feeling grouchy and superior, a combination of feelings I don’t often step into. It might get better though, so keep on keepin’ on.

The opening act was a man named John Devine (pronounced “divine”), another little soapbox singer born of the hipster womb that’s located these days in Brooklyn. Devine sang songs, like many before him, of protest, love, infidelity and cute girls who grow up to be hot. I liked this guy and his guitar but only for a few minutes. Eventually the singing/yelling got painful and the self-indulgent banter between himself and the audience made me a little sad. At one point, after a song attacking the War on Terror, Devine got into a long, awkward conversation with a soldier in the audience. The rest of us could only hear Devine’s tactful (and a little frightful, honestly) responses. I was ready to sit down on the ground and drink myself into oblivion. Okay, so it’s not better yet. Just wait.

We decided to go outside for some fresh air and good conversation in between acts, which turned into cigarettes and talking about periods (sorry about that). After a bit, some real pretty sounds started to waft out into the frigid night air. Rachael had finally started. She began by apologizing in advance for her voice as she had come down with the flu. And if you’ve heard Rachael sing before, you know that her sultry, raspy voice already sounds a bit sick (in a good way). The addition of actual illness caused her to sound like Bryan Adams (and I mean that in the nicest way possible; I really do) but she trudged on.

Recently, Vu, the boss man here at W♥M confessed that he totally has the mega-watt hots for Ms. Rachael Yamagata and after Thursday night, I get it in a big way. She’s lovely, lovely, lovely--the kind of performer who oozes sex appeal even while deathly ill. And she oozes that sex appeal because she is believable, is not the plasticized version of sex we see 99.764% of the time. Her words are honest; her smiles are honest; those drops of sweat and brow furrows are honest (at least I’m convinced they are). These songs come from a very real place inside of her and to see that place represented so beautifully is brilliant and rare. Yamagata gives a voice to emotions that so many of us have felt after love gone sour and the voice she gives them is sensational. (Take a look at Jason’s review here of her most recent album for a little more background.)

Cute anecdote: for the encore, it was just Yamagata and her keyboard which turned out to be a little more than her vocal chords could handle as I’m sure they were exhausted and full of mucus. So, some sweet, fan-girls in the front row belted out the notes she couldn’t hit, proving their teenage devotion. Rachael seemed genuinely grateful and wheezed out more thanks than necessary, showing off a gorgeous smile and making those girls sing even louder. (Maybe a bad move brought on by fever. Just kidding, girls!)

So, in the end, Kate the Grinch returned Christmas and joined all the Whos in Whoville as they sang their creepy Whoville song. That is, until a drunken 40-year-old named Tom whistled so loudly in her ear that it throbbed the rest of the night. Then she stole Christmas all over again.

Rachael Yamagata is currently traveling the U.S., spreading all kinds of sickly germs. Yum! See her website for tour dates and learn her songs in case you need to help her.

vu ([email protected]) ♥ weheartmusic.com ♥ facebook.com ♥ twitter.com/weheartmusic

Flashback: Jeremy Jay at 7th Street Entry, Minneapolis (26 July 2008)

Tour Dates 08/09/08 Lucky 7 House, Olympia, WA 08/14/08 Club Pop Seattle, WA 08/16/08 Luigis Fun Sacr, CA 08/18/08 Club Donut SF, CA 09/16/08 Karrera Club Berlin 09/19/08 Niuwe Anita Amsterdam 09/20/08 South Pop Festival 09/21/08 Zxzw Festival Tilburg 09/22/08 Astra Tube Club 09/23/08 Magic Magazine Party 09/24/08 Kb Malmoe 09/25/08 Blaa Oslo 09/26/08 Union Rock Drammen, Oslo 09/27/08 Fritz´S Corner @ Debaser Slussen 09/30/08 Colmar Grillen 10/01/08 Tba Clermont 10/02/08 Cri De La Muette Toulouse 10/03/08 Emporium Galorium Rouen 10/04/08 Mains D’oeuvres Paris 10/05/08 Freebut Brighton 10/06/08 Barfly London 10/07/08 The Library Leeds 10/08/08 Barfly Glasgow, Scotland 10/09/08 Black Box Belfast 10/10/08 Upstairs @ Whelans Capdublin 10/11/08 Cypress Avenue Cork 11/26/08 Troubadour Brisbane 11/27/08 Hopetown Sydney 11/28/08 Roxanne Melbourne 11/29/08 Queenscliff Folk Fest 12/07/08 Hologram Angel, CA Read More Jeremy Jay You may have remembered our coverage of Jeremy Jay, well it looks like he's about to do a long Summer tour, covering just about every state! …

Lara went to see the very tall Jeremy Jay play the 7th Street Entry in Minneapolis on July 26, 2008. Let’s be fair, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Jay’s very large Corona bottle the whole night.

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Recently it’s been brought to my attention that 6’3” is not ‘that’ tall (it’s only ‘tall’). Still, watching Jeremy Jay play on Saturday, all 6’3” of him, I understood why he appears that tall. There’s a gangly unease to his presence; he’s mostly arms and legs, with a flop of pale hair and a crinkly smile. Something about him inspires the word ‘dapper’ (perhaps the heeled loafers), and yet his physical gravitas is underplayed by the fact that he seems really nice (perhaps because of the oversized Corona that befriended his hand all night).

Jay performed selections from A Place Where We Could Go, his latest release (April 2008), Airwalker (2007 EP), and Alpharhythm, a shiny curiosity that’s as booty shaking as a mellow 60s throwback can be. “Heavenly Creatures,” one of my favorite tracks from A Place, didn’t differ much from the album version in execution; it was just better. Truthfully, all the songs were better live (a statement proved true by my concert companion who said “he’s better live” and “I like this”).

It’s always special when a musician improves himself on stage. Jay plus band had a richer sound and a more inviting presence. While A Place envisions a sort of sparse alternaverse, where Lynch meets Howard Hawks and every moment is like opening the door to Oz (you know, trippy but logical), the show felt comfortably austere. Jay’s style still fluctuated between vintage noir and downtown hipster, but his attitude was mostly blasé. He rocked out a bit, funked it up a smidge, and even tackled the underappreciated Blondie ballad “Shayla” without ruining it forever. Moreover, as if to befit the Entry’s seedy punk club-meets-rapist’s basement ambience, his pretty croon sounded sort of sexy, in a dirty, non-cardigan-wearing way (as opposed to his clean-cut, cardigan-wearing self). By the end of the show, JJ’s good boy image was ruffled some, thanks to that sexy voice and also thanks to large bottles of Corona. (Thanks, large bottles of Corona.)

Jeremy Jay is still on tour. He’s tall (but not that tall), nice, and may need a floor to sleep on. If you have a spare floor (or like music), check out the tour dates. You can find more information on his K Records page (krecs.com) or his Myspace (myspace.com/jeremyjay).

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