On The List :: Milagres @ Glasslands [7.26.12]

Opening for New York's Milagres was a gracious Danish artist who plays under the moniker Indians. Without necessarily delving into the bizarre irony of a northern European playing in New York under the name Indians - he could have been Dutch and named his band Lenape Stuyvesant - suffice it to say Indians possesses great affection for New York City. His last song was explicitly about New York, and he waxed philosophical about the city's charms two other times in between his pretty, looping keyboard creations. The audience felt guilty - or what guilty would look like after three drinks - like one of your college friends just informed you how "cool your parents are." You shuffle your feet and demure. These people know New York is transformative, and they know they take it for granted. Indians doesn't, sounding a bit like a more lonely Porcelain Raft, and his car service is coming to get him at 11:30. New York will have to wait.

Milagres took the stage as a surprisingly tight five piece. Their debut record for Kill Rock Stars, Glowing Mouth, dealt almost exclusively in a distended series of keyboard arrangements drowned in high-fret board guitars. They were the Antlers without taking themselves so seriously. On this night they sound phenomenal, featuring one of the better drummers in the independent rock music and layer upon layer of keyboards, vocals and guitars. On record it can be a beautiful, occasionally challenging listen, but live the music is sharp and urgent. The band opened with "Gone," playing "Lost In The Dark" and "Here To Stay" along the way, crafting the dualism of grieving departures and settling down for good. Appropriately, Milagres closed their main set with album opener "Halfway," a final moment of indecision. The chorus suggests, "I could be halfway from anyone," as Indians packed his gear into the trunk of a black cab. On this night, Milagres, one of the better indie rock bands you can see live, was happy to be trapped by the same city Europeans are loathe to leave.

Porcelain Raft :: "Unless You Speak From The Heart"

Porcelain Raft is sneaking up on everyone and no one with his upcoming album, Strange Weekend. The tiny arrangements and demos released by the band in late 2010, evolved into more spacious, wistful, organ-driven creations. The sonic territory flecks the edges of the reverb-heavy drowned pop of the past few years, but cuts like "Unless You Speak From The Heart" rely on slicing sharp craft and breezy hooks. In short, this is the Youth Lagoon of the coming months, save a more upbeat ethos. In that very modern way, critics and listeners have both a sense that Strange Weekend,"will be good" and a willingness to be surprised by its goodness. This is the new magic trick, knowing the Prestige is coming - a quiet, little record about quiet, little heartbreak - and still being impressed when it arrives.

Listen :: Porcelain Raft - "Unless You Speak From The Heart"
Listen :: Porcelain Raft - "Put Me To Sleep"

Porcelain Raft :: "Everything From Your Hands"

Porcelain Raft's "Everything From Your Hands" is one of those perfect rainy day songs that spent too much time listening to Elliot Smith b-sides. The eponymous edict is the opposite of that derivative barb at the beginning of a paragraph by a writer who likes this song a lot. In essence, we will be judged by that which we create, that which we give, but in the modern way, this ends up being up for criticism, not veneration. Reverse the paradigm. It sounds perfect for a guy seen posing with a piano and heard playing tiny guitar chords and whispering into your ear.