Specifically, on the rise of sequencing and sampling in the early 80s, the democratization of music production that was enabled by the use of inexpensive equipment like the TB-303 and TR-808 and the ability to ‘test-drive’ music on the dance floor before committing it to vinyl, and the resultant development of the Chicago House sound. Hans T. Zeiner-Henrikson, a PhD candidate in the Department of Musicology at the University of Oslo, presented a paper on this work at a conference in Manchester. A copy of the paper, complete with QuickTime beat and music samples, is archived here.
An excellent xkcd.com shoutout to Cambridge, MA game developers Harmonix, creators of Guitar Hero and Rock Band. Scroll down to the ‘bonus songs’ in Rock Band to see songs by Harmonix employee ‘side projects,’ local bands like Bang Camaro and Freezepop.
Just released: The new Magnetic Fields album, Distortion, which Stephin Merritt describes as inspired by Jesus and Mary Chain‘s Psychocandy, ‘Just getting to a sound that’s raw and dirty and not inaudible takes a lot of work.’ Their two nights in Boston are sold out, unfortunately, at least at the moment (thank you, TicketBastard) but you might have better luck elsewhere.
Also just out, British Sea Power‘s third album, Do You Like Rock Music? Hell yeah, especially if it’s the new BSP. Unfortunately, looks like they don’t have any East Coast tour dates yet, but I’m optimistic.
The National – how I love thee. Their album Alligator, released at the end of 2005, may be the first CD that I’ve destroyed through overplaying (it hasn’t left my car for two years, and is now skipping uncontrollably), and they almost single-handedly elicited a trip to Chicago, where they played the 2006 Pitchfork Music Festival. Their 2007 followup, Boxer, with its gorgeously moody B&W photograph on the cover, matching the gorgeously moody music within, turned out to be worthy indeed, also going into permanent rotation and landing on a many a best–of–2007 list. But where The National really shone were in their live shows, which somehow manage to be compelling without being theatrical. I also love the way that the magnetic lead singer, Matt Berninger, can gracefully stand aside to let the musicians have the spotlight. I ended up seeing them four times, in three cities (and two countries!) in 2007, including two nights in a row at the Middle East, Cambridge, and they just keep getting better.
One of my most-anticipated albums of 2007 was Reunion Tour, from Winnipeg-based The Weakerthans, and it turned out to be worth the wait. Each song is a beautifully-crafted short story, marrying narrative, emotion, and music into a memorable package. The tales range from the fall of a high-flying executive, to the heartrending continuing saga of Virtute the cat, who has now left her owner and is struggling to survive a ‘Peg winter, to the best use of curling as a metaphor for relationships that you’ve ever heard (okay, possibly the only use of curling as a metaphor that you’ve ever heard). Small wonder they are starting to earn the sobriquet of ‘Canada’s band.’
Boston-based sextet Hallelujah the Hills had an unusual trajectory, reaching national prominence early, as a finalist in Salon’s Song Search contest for best unreleased song in December 2006 with their eponymous fight song. Their debut album, Collective Psychosis Begone, marries complex instrumentation with tuneful power-pop – like Animal Collective, but much more fun to sing along to. Check out their songs or go see them at the Middle East Downstairs on February 16, 2008.
Reading this blog, you’d probably get the impression that I am uncritically enthusiastic about music. But this is a place for me to share the music and bands that I like, and that I want to see gain more fans. So you’ll never hear about me walking out of a concert after a song and half because the lead singer had negative charisma, or the album that I listened to in its entirety before realizing that none of the songs impinged on my consciousness. If you are interested in snarky album and concert reviews (and really, who isn’t?), might I recommend such venerablemusicsitesasthese?
I love making mix CDs, for other people and for myself, and I’m delighted that technology has revivified and simplified this art form. One of my favourite creations is called Heartbreak, Unrequited Love, and Clever Lyrics, and I recently created a sequel, The Heartache Continues. This exercise reminded me of a passage from Nick Hornby’s novel, High Fidelity: “What came first — the music or the misery?”
Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands — literally thousands — of songs about broken hearts and rejection and pain and misery and loss. The unhappiest people I know, romantically speaking, are the ones who like pop music the most; and I don’t know whether pop music has caused this unhappiness, but I do know that they’ve been listening to the sad songs longer than they’ve been living the unhappy lives.
So, as an antidote to all of the Dave Gahan and National and Nicole Atkins, here’s a cheerful song about the unbridled enthusiasm of young love, writing poetry, and unprotected sex.
My favourite rock and roll moment of 2007 was at a Bon Savants concert. At the end of their show at the Paradise Rock Club in Boston, frontman Thom Moran (everybody’s favouriterocketscientist) lifted his guitar over his head like a – literal – axe to mock-smash it down on the stage, in an homage-slash-parody to hard rockin’ guitarists everywhere. Unfortunately, its trajectory took it straight into a mirror ball hanging above him, and shards of glittering glass confetti’ed down onto the stage. The best part was the look on his face – any semblance of rock poseur was gone, and it was pure little boy, just got caught stealing cookies and worried about getting in trouble with mum.
Guilty looks aside, the Bon Savants play thoughtful, tuneful, sophisticated pop, mostly about love and loss but interwoven with scientific and other metaphors. Their self-released debut album, Post-Rock Defends the Nation, has been occupying a CD slot in my car stereo for most of the year. The standout track remains ‘Between the Moon and the Ocean,’ with ‘Mass Ave and Broadway’ a close second (despite the lyrics that refer to Porter Square as located at that intersection; in reality, Porter Square, Cambridge is at the intersection of Mass Ave and Somerville Ave).
The best concert I went to in 2007 was twenty minutes long.
I had gone to see Dan Deacon at Avalon, where he started off a concert with Simian Mobile Disco and Girl Talk. As usual, I misjudged exactly how stupidly early Avalon starts its concerts, and I managed to miss him entirely. But a friend of mine texted me to say that Deacon was doing a show at the Milky Way in Jamaica Plain, and so I went home, got my car, and drove out to catch his show. It started at 12:40 pm and ended, thanks to Boston’s draconian licensing laws, at exactly 1 am.
The military spends a lot of energy trying to create sonic weapons that make you want to throw up, run away, or otherwise feel terrible. But no one is systematically trying to find sounds that make you feel really, really amazing. Fortunately, we do have accidental empiricists like Dan Deacon. Something about his music just goes straight to your pleasure centres, makes you happy, and makes you want to dance. It was remarkable – within a few seconds of his starting to play, we were all happily bouncing along. Whatever acoustic anti-weapon he’s discovered, however, doesn’t really seem to be captured in his recorded music. If he plays near you, go see him live, even if you don’t think you like electronic music.
The first local band that I heard after moving to Boston was the Dresden Dolls. I had gone to see Michael Gira play with his band, Angels of Light, in the South End in March 2003. Their opening act was an unknown folk-y singer that Gira had signed to Young God Records, with the unusually cross-cultural name of Devendra Banhart. But the local openers were a band called The Dresden Dolls, who were just astonishing – I vividly remember my first hearing of ‘Miss Me’ and ‘Coin-Operated Boy’ – and I also remember noticing Amanda Palmer’s modded keyboard, with the Kurzweil logo painted over to instead read ‘Kurt Weill.’ After their performance, I cornered Brian Viglione and told him how much I loved their music and that I was happy to discover that I was not the only person who listened to both the Buzzcocks and to Lotte Lenya. At the time, I remember thinking, ‘Well, I love them, but they’re never going to find a wide audience.’ Then, of course, I was mandible-to-the-mat astonished when they won the WBCN Rock’n’Roll Rumble a few months later (I mean, come on, the Rock’n’Roll Rumble?) and delighted by their subsequent success.
Sadly, I fear that they are drifting apart – Amanda is working on a solo album, produced by Ben Folds, and Brian has been playing with another local band, HUMANWINE (and I’ve heard a rumour that he’s accepted an invitation to join Nine Inch Nails permanently – well, insofar as any NIN band member is permanent), so I do wonder if the upcoming tour is their last.
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists are amazingly fun live, and I’ve seen them several times in the last year or so. Ted Leo writes and sings tightly constructed songs, with literate and interesting lyrics, and the Pharmacists are an excellent set of musicians. But the real joy of a Ted Leo concert is in the way he talks to and interacts with the crowd. On Saturday night at the Roxy, he announced, “That was the most inarticulate forty-five seconds of heckling I’ve ever heard,” and proceeded to do his impression of what it sounded like from the stage, acting out the competing hecklers in Charlie-Brown-grownups-style voices. It was pointed and hilarious. I’ll keep an eye out for audio or video from the Saturday show, but in the meantime, here’s a video clip from Ted Leo’s previous Boston concert, in which he tells a story about visiting his hometown.
[Middle East Upstairs, Cambridge, MA; November 29, 2007]
Holy Fuck lived up to their name at their show last night. Their music is like the bastard lovechild of Battles and Dan Deacon – while less virtuosic than the former and less straight-out batshit than the latter, they possess a tremendous anarcho-punk energy. And they were clearly really, really having fun onstage. Plus they were handing out free 7″ singles – a split disc, with a Celebration remix of their song “Frenchy’s” on one side, and their remix of a Celebration song on the other. If you’re not lucky enough to catch their act and pick up your own copy of the vinyl at one of their shows, you can download both MP3s here.
My inner Emily Post is struggling to get out and rant about polite behaviour at concerts, so here’s a few tips. Note that this is strictly geared towards small, crowded concerts at bars – we’re not worrying about showing up late and waiting for the intermission before the usher shows you to your seats.
Smell nice. At a typical show, you can expect to have a dozen people within a one-metre radius of you. Unless you ride the Tokyo subway regularly, this is probably the most people you ever have within smelling distance. Shower. If you normally use deodorant, now is a good time. If you use perfume or cologne, lovely, although you probably don’t want to reapply right before the concert.
Don’t push your way to the front. If you want to stand in front of the stage and flirt with the bassist, arrive early. That’s what everyone who’s already there did. Just because we’re too polite to do more than glare at your back as you shove us out of the way, it doesn’t mean you’re not being rude.
And on a related note, don’t hold hands as you move around. Attending the concert with a group of friends? Fine. Negotiating a crowded space is bad enough solo; you don’t need to hold hands as you move from one part of the room to the other. You are not crossing the Khumbu Icefall.
More tips, a link to more conventional concert etiquette advice, and an MP3 after the jump.
It’s Thanksgiving in the US, which means I can start thinking about the year 2007 in music. Without question, “All My Friends,” by LCD Soundsystem (off the brilliant album, Sound of Silver) was my defining song for this year. Using an evening out as a framing device, James Murphy incisively considers growing older while finding (and losing) one’s place in the world. You might have to be old enough that you can relate to self-descriptions of ‘with a face like a dad’ and to thoughts like, ‘when you’re drunk and the kids look impossibly tan,’ but I find this song and video deeply poignant. Lest that sounds boring, I should point out that the melancholy lyrics and dry delivery are backed with driving, anthemic musical lines.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, given his lyrics in this song and in songs like “North American Scum” and “Losing My Edge,” James Murphy is engaging and funny; the Guardian Unlimited music podcast posted a Music Extra interview (MP3s at bottom of page) with him that gives some backstory.
The Pipettes are my guilty pleasure. They sing these sweet, catchy songs that almost exclusively about, as they freely admit, love and dancing. And they are this total retro throwback to the girl groups of the 60s, which I’m not particularly into. But somehow, they manage to produce wonderfully infectious indie-pop songs that I love. And, not surprisingly, the Pipettes (with a short ‘i’ if you are from the UK, it seems, but us North American scientists definitely go with the long vowel) put on a great live show, complete with matching outfits and synchronized dance moves. Their band, Cassette, did an excellent job of backing them up, but they aren’t really the point – they were as nondescript, in their grey, British-public-school-boy vests, as the Pipettes were flamboyant – and they are barely visible on stage. With their charming lyrics and memorable tunes, the Pipettes are a nice antidote to the mopey, dark music that I normally listen to.
[Great Scott, Allston, MA; November 15, 2007]
Back in the realm of the dark and mopey, the big surprise of the night was Nicole Atkins and the Sea, who opened for the Pipettes. Aside from also singing songs about love and also being a retro throwback (we decided on ‘Blondie crossed with Edith Piaf if they were performing in the 50s’), Atkins’s moody music couldn’t be much more different from the Pipettes cheery vocals. But she has a phenomenal voice and is a stunning live performer. They are scheduled to be on Conan O’Brien next week, if the writer’s strike ends – it’s worth crossing your fingers for.
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