For these are the times when the Mighty walk like giants. Out of the ocean, through the darkest caves, into the most brilliant temple.
Lord Huron, L.A.’s most enigmatic purveyors of tropa-chill-psych, has whetted the appetites of eager listeners with a preview of their upcoming “Mighty” EP (along with a glimpse of its awesome cover art). It begins with the gentle lapping of water — freed from its glacial cage –against the shore of a distant soil, then a wave of reverby guitar and a swelling string section before a wordless vocal that is either a mournful moan or pleasure howl. A sober, clipped voice speaks the word “mighty” and, suddenly, we’re off! An acoustic guitar strums a plucky melody in double-times, synths gurgle below the surface and, in less than 30 seconds, it’s over, the sound washed away by the same surf that carried it to shore. Along with the evocative cover art, Lord Huron have offered only a cryptic couplet to foreshadow the release of “Mighty”: “For these are the times when the Mighty walk like giants. Out of the ocean, through the darkest caves, into the most brilliant temple.” Sounds almost evolutionary. The primordial bearded beast rising from the sea bed that spawned him to walk on land, vanquish his enemy, the serpent, and claim the transcendence of Superior spirit. Back in June, our lord appeared — seemingly out of nowhere — with the tantalizing “Into the Sun” EP. Another track, “When Will I See You Again,” was leaked on September 9 and garnered recognition from Pitchfork, among others. LH’s Benji Schneider told Rollo Grady that what began as a solo project has evolved into a genuine collaborative effort and a performing band, with an appearance scheduled for the CMJ 2010 in New York in October. (In the interest of truth, Lord Huron manager, Kiko, has asked Indycent to disclose a long-term personal relationship. Done and done.)
The Web has been all abuzz of late over Lord Huron. Last month, the Los-Angeles based musician released “Into the Sun.” The song and EP have gained attention from Whiskey Transfusion, New Band Day, Ology, The Road Goes Ever On, and (yours, truly) Indycent, leading many to wonder: Exactly who is Lord Huron? From the best information we have gathered, Lord Huron has been involved in numerous projects over the past 15 years or so, including Razor Dave, Arcaid, Mr. Madness, Summersault and, most recently, something strange called the Benjamin Smythe Antarctic Institute. Your guess is as good as ours. The upshot, though, is that Lord Huron will perform live for the first time on Friday, Aug. 6 at The Grandstar (943 N. Broadway) in Los Angeles as part of “No Jacket Required.” Word is our Lord has put together a five-piece band of mercenaries that sounds pretty faithful to the recordings after just a few rehearsals. Also on the bill are Polls, Superhuman and John Carpenter. Admission is $5 and the show begins at 8 p.m. and free Firefly Vodka drinks will be available until 10. Wanna know who Lord Huron is? Show up and find out for yourself. FULL DISCLOSURE: I have known the creative force behind Lord Huron since 1983.
Ice bristles brush the skin of my back when, on “Dancing on My Own,” Robyn sings: “I’m right over here, why can’t you see me?” Right between my shoulder blades and up the nape of my neck. It’s eerie, a bit surreal, to go unrecognized and unacknowledged in close quarters. Eerie for the narrator, eerie for the listener. It’s one of the elements that make “Dancing on My Own” a pop masterpiece, one that will endure to those “best of the decade” lists in the waning days of 2019. It’s synth-pop, yes, meant for the dancefloor, but Robyn is an auteur sophisticated enough to know that nothing goes better with revery than melancholy. In the face of unrequited love, her protagonist vows to party as therapy, a gesture falling somewhere between bravery and desperation: “I’m just gonna dance all night,” she sings. “I’m so messed up, so out of line.” We know from the beginning that the object of her affection has moved on. “Somebody said you got a new friend,” the opening line announces, and the listener later learns: “I’m not the girl you’re taking home.” All of this is straightforward enough, it’s the sense of distance Robyn conveys that makes the song bite. “I’m in the car now, watching you kiss her,” she sings , the words isolated from the music, a capella-style, on the penultimate chorus. They communicate the coldness and abandonment of a jilted lover who feels defined by an ex. But also the desperation and self-flagellation of someone willing to spy on that ex. It’s a sentiment that conveys something real and something very, very personal. Perhaps the narrator is mourning the loss of a love—that reading makes the refrain of “I keep dancing on my own” courageous, if not triumphant—but perhaps it’s a love that never was. ”So far away, but still so near,” Robyn sings on the gentle, almost-wistful breakdown. Could it be even farther than she’s willing to admit? It’s not hard to imagine the narrator mouthing the words while throwing herself around her Gothenuerg apartment, dancing truly on her own and therefore invisible. That might be the secret truth that makes “Dancing on My Own” so compelling.
Joyful Noise is offering up a 10-song JOA sampler featuring one track from each release. It was a good reminder of what a polarizing figure Tim Kinsella is for indie rock.
I wasn’t sure what to think when Karl Hofstetter of Indianapolis-based Joyful Noise Recordings told me he planned to issue a box set of Joan of Arc cassettes on his label. But the venture must be termed a success. Joyful Noise reports that after just two days it sold out of the 100 custom-made box sets, featuring 10 JoA releases. That’s over 1,000 cassettes! Hofstetter sweetened the deal by offering high-quality downloads of each album. In the interest of full disclosure, it must be said that the set of 10 cassettes can still be had through Joyful Noise for $49, albeit without the limited-edition packaging. A good deal, no doubt. But listeners might prefer the JoA sampler JNR is offering up: a free download featuring 10 tracks, one from each of the 10 releases. I was never a huge JoA fan, but it was a delight to hear some of the band’s highlights, including “The Hands” (from “A Portable Model Of”), with Tim Kinsella’s thrashing screams and angular electric guitar that is catchy and tuneful. It was also a reminder of what a polarizing figure Kinsella has been. Coming out of Chicago, he got his start with Cap’n Jazz, part of the second-wave emo movement of the 1990′s that took the genre away from hardcore and toward more accessible pop-punk. After C’nJ split, Davey vonBohlen continued in the “accessible” direction, while Kinsella moved into challenging, art rock territory with JoA, employing odd time signatures, free-form song structures and often inscrutable lyrics. To understand the love-it-or-hate-it proposition that Kinsella’s music has represented for more than a decade, read Brent DiCrescenzo’s 2000 review of “The Gap” and William Bowers’ 2002 review of another Kinsella project, “Ten Songs” by Friend/Enemy. Respectively, the two records earned 19 and 83 on Pitchfork’s 100-point scale. Sample almost any selection of JoA criticism and you’re sure to find a reviewer or two who regret that Kinsella’s self-consciously artistic or pretentious side has interfered with what is actually pretty decent music. It’s healthy for independent music to have some debate, rather than being a love-fest so much of the time. How many other figures in the scene are so polarizing? Vampire Weekend? Jack White? Conor Oberst probably comes closest (if we’re having this discussion in 2003). Bottom line, I thoroughly enjoyed listening to 10 tracks of Joan of Arc, I band I haven’t really listened to in five years or more, and it seems as though at least 100 people agree with me.
Cover of M.I.A.'s forthcoming album "forward slash-back slash-forward slash-back slash-forward slash-back slash-capitol 'y'-forward slash-back slash."
On May 11, pan-global pop star M.I.A. announced that her new album, “forward slash-back slash-forward slash-back slash-forward slash-back slash-capital ‘Y’-forward slash-back slash” would be released on June 29. Much has changed in the past seven weeks. The release date of “/\/\/\Y/\” has been pushed back to July 13 and, apparently, the title is actually pronounced “Maya.” The delay has allowed our heroine time to entangle herself in a web of controversy. On May 26, the New York Times published an in-depth profile in which Lynn Hirschberg explored the contradictions—some might say hypocrisy—of Maya Arulpragasam. The following day, M.I.A. retaliated for inaccuracies, going so far as to post Hirschberg’s cell phone number on Twitter. After posting audio clips from the interview on her the site for her record label, N.E.E.T., under the heading “War Crimes and French Fries,” M.I.A. won a correction. The album delay has also provided time for M.I.A. to release four singles, including “Teqkilla,” which arrived Tuesday in place of the album. If nothing else, the pronounced absence of “/\/\/\Y/\” has provided an opportunity to assess what we might expect from the album, based on the singles.
The Roman Gavras-directed video for "Born Free" depicts the gestappo-like collection and extermination of a minority group: redheads.
“Born Free” (Released April 23): The pound of a bass drum and the crack of a snare begin in tandem, slowly and steadily, then strike harder and faster until it’s a paramilitary swirl: Hard and sharp and very paranoid. Then, like sprinters at the sound of a starting gun, a fuzzed-out bass and guitar begin to gallop on cue. This, it seems, is how M.I.A. does punk. “I don’t want to live for tomorrow, gonna push my luck today,” she howls. “I’ll throw it in your face when I see you, yeah, ’cause I’ve got something to say.” She asserts the title in the choruses, a classic statement of rebellion in the face of controlling forces. So who is trying to control M.I.A.? Industry types? Expectant fans? Motherhood? Hard to say, but it’s worth noting that the Roman Gavras-directed video depicts the gestappo-like collection and extermination of a minority group: redheads.
If "Born Free" is how M.I.A. does punk, "Xxxo" is how she does pop. The track is anxious, she never allows the listener to fully relax.
“Xxxo” (Released May 11): Ambient noise rises up, initiating a hip-hop beat with a loose-ratting over top. “You want me be somebody who I’m really not,” she sings on the chorus, as shimmery keyboards twirl around the track and a Euro-house bassline pounds away. It’s a rare moment of real singing from an artist whose vocal style is often limited to chants. If “Born Free” is how M.I.A. does punk, it seems “Xxxo” is how M.I.A. does pop—Jay-Z has even added a guest verse to a remix—the track is anxious, she never allows the listener to fully relax. The sound is decidedly minor and ominous, clanging like the fall of a dungeon door. Still, it’s worth noting that Maya teamed up with Christina Aguilera, co-writing and performing on “Elastic Love” from “Bionic,” released June 8. By the end, M.I.A. seems to welcome the freedom of escaping herself: “I can be the actress, you be Tarantino.” I see a forthcoming cameo.
“Steppin’ Up” (Released June 15): Samples of power tools—drills, power saws and mechanic shop air guns—have been cobbled together in a kind of medley that forms the foundation of “Steppin’ Up.” The rest is slow-skanking hip-hop with even more nonsense lyrics than usual, based on a “rub-a-dub” construction. “Me and my speakers are speaking sub-a-sub-sub-sub-sub/You know who I am, I run this fucking club.” It’s actually classic M.I.A., conjuring all the corner-boy swagger of T.I. Imagine a loosely autobiographical crossover flick, not “ATL” but “SRI.”
“Teqkilla” (Released June 29): Hirschberg would’ve had a field day with this one. Instead of serving as a warning of the the ills of mind-altering substances as the title would suggest, “Teqkilla” seems to be a straight-up party anthem: “I got that sticky-sticky, icky-icky weed,” she squeals, her voice rising up on the last syllable. “And a shot of tequila in me.” The sound of ice cubes clinking in a glass is a recurrent theme and the slogan “down the drain” floats in and out of the mix. The rest of the track is built out of a plastic frisbee tom striking backward, alternating handclap patterns and various synths: laser squiggles, fuzzy blasts that pitch up, ticking Popoid tubes. I can’t even mention all the sounds that show up during the last two minutes (it’s 6:20 in all!), reminding me of one of the production workouts from “Major Lazer.” Could this be a Diplo track?
Of course we won’t know for sure until July 13, but a tracklist released by 7digital suggests we’ve already heard a full third of “/\/\/\Y/\” (sans a bonus track remix). One would expect a few curveballs and left-field turns, ala the presence of Willcania Mob and didgeridoo on “Kala” or the unexpected joy of texting anthem “URAQT” on “Arular.” But longtime comrade and collaborator Diplo let slip some ambiguous feelings about the album via Twitter on June 10: “just listened to mastr of the MIA album.. WOW.. my 3 trax are slammin! dunno bout the rest-sounds like skinny puppy ☹ & gives me nightmares☹.” Hard to imagine M.I.A. topping 2009. Last year saw her armed robbery anthem “Paper Planes” go global on the back of Best Picture-winning film, “Slumdog Millionaire,” and culminated in her pregnant performance at the Grammy Awards alongside Jay-Z, Kanye West, Lil Wayne and the aforementioned Clifford Joseph Harris Jr. If she comes even close, it should be fun to watch.
Alexander Rybak of Norway, winner of the 2009 Eurovision Song Contest.
I can’t remember the last time I read an absolute howler in The New Yorker, but Anthony Lane has done it this week with his piece on the 2010 Eurovision Song Content in Oslo, “Only Mr. God Knows Why.” A quick primer: Eurovision is a singing contest, sort of a pan-European “American Idol,” only better, ’cause it’s Euro. Any member country of the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) can enter one act. Performances must stay within the 3-minute time limit and the winner’s home country gets to host the next competition. The title of Lane’s piece comes from the lyrics to “What For?” performed by Aisha on behalf of Latvia: “I’ve asked my Uncle Joe/But he can’t speak/Why does the wind still blow?And blood still leaks?/So many questions now/With no reply/What for do people live until they die? … Only Mr. God knows why/(But) His phone today is out of range.” As you can see, there is no shortage of corniness in Eurovision and Lane plays these lyrics (and others) for comedic effect, as examples of “ritual massacre of the English language.” Acts were once required to sing in their language of origin, but the native tongue shackles have been cast off and many performers choose the universality of English. Elsewhere, Lane writes: “The Eurovision Song Contest is kindly, diverting, flamboyant, efficiently run, and surprisingly tough. In fact, there is only one thing wrong with it. The music.” I first read about Eurovision in Elizabeth Vincentelli’s piece from The Believer, “Bulgarian Idol,” which appeared in DaCapo’s “Best Music Writing 2007″ anthology. Eurovision is broadcast on television in the participating countries and is wildly popular. Lane reports that the 2002 final in Estonia drew around 200 million viewers, more than twice a typical Super Bowl. But like soccer, afternoon tea and Peugots, Eurovision has failed to find an audience in America. I got the feeling Lane had trumped Vincentelli when my wife, from the next room, told me to keep it down. Now I’m harboring serious ambitions of attending Eurovision, a notoriously tough ticket. If anyone out there has an “in,” I’d be delighted to hear from you.
In case you still haven’t noticed, Lady Gaga killed it with the video for “Telephone,” a smutty tale of mass-murder set inside a women’s prison and behind cigarette sunglasses. Say what you will about Gaga’s music, appearance and gender, she’s proven herself the savviest pop star since Kanye West. She clasps the hand of Beyonce—the Thelma to her Louise—and they ride off in a different kind of cliffhanger. But as Tom Ewing pointed out in his now-prophetic “Poptimist” column for Pitchfork, Gaga is in the midst of her “imperial phase,” determined to top herself at every opportunity, knowing that she commands the eyes of the world. She may have done just that with the release of her latest clip, “Alejandro,” which is her “Virgin/Prayer/Vogue” in “Blade Runer”/”Rhythm Nation” attire on the set of Jennifer Lopez’s “The Cell” done as the latest “Halo” video game and featuring Vivid’s male talent. If that sounds like too many points of reference, you’re starting to get it. Now you might as well watch it (click the link below).
Between the fleshy handclaps and African-inspired chanting that open “Power”, listeners might guess that ‘Ye is taking a back-to-basics approach to his latest project. It’s just as likely a red herring, but still, this sounds distinctly and deliberately different from “808s and Heartbreaks.” Gone is the Auto-Tuned crooning and and mechanized music of that album, which left many listeners cold, especially when coupled with the almost-total absence of rapping. “Every superhero need his theme music,” Kanye tells us early on, signifying the triumphant return of a hip-hop conqueror. But it’s not long before his most reliable insecurities creep back in. The greed of prosperity: “No one man should have all this power”; celebrity self-loathing: “They said I was the abomination of Obama’s nation”; and self-destruction: “This would be a beautiful death.” A dirty guitar grinds away, punctuated by a vocal sample from King Crimson’s “21st Century Schizoid Man.” Keyboards bleep atop an organ pulse at the breakdown, before tucking into a controlled barrel roll. Someone starts yelling in the background (Dwele?) and with a blast of feedback, it’s all over.
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