On The List :: The Hold Steady @ Bowery Ballroom [6.9.09]

[editor's note: this runs in full on The House List]

Craig Finn, lead singer of The Hold Steady, does not cut an impressive figure. He could just as easily be cheering on his kids at a youth soccer game as controlling the stage at The Bowery Ballroom. But his voice—a paradox, an unexpected power, a rapid-fire weapon—is the mediator. He belongs here. Looks can be deceiving but sounds rarely are.

A slowly advancing onslaught of sweat made its way down Finn’s blue oxford shirt as the evening wore on. It began with a small foothold near the neckline and built, like liquid manifest destiny, until it soaked half of his chest. Amidst this symbol of workmanship, Finn was plenty reflective and made sure to mention, “We haven’t played here since 2005.” It was a return in music, too, with the band playing the majority of the songs off Separation Sunday. Finn worked exceptionally hard with the older songs—slightly awkward in his movements and utterly explosive in his manner.

The Hold Steady began their encore with “Stuck Between Stations,” a song, like many of their others, about drinking recklessly. The crowd matched the band’s intensity, rocking the floor and bouncing to the ceiling. Finn, with his freestyle delivery, shouted the lyrics away from the mike and the band poured keyboard over the arrangement like drunk college students pouring lighter fluid on charcoal fires. Earlier, Finn maintained that, despite success, the band is still a “bar band.” No deception was necessary. The audience could not have missed what they heard.

Listen :: The Hold Steady - Your Little Hoodrat Friend

Marina and the Diamonds :: "I'm Not A Robot" [Starsmith's 24-Carat Remix]

"Guess what? I'm not a robot." It expresses the simple and the profane. It takes an accusation of inhumanity and turns it into a rhetorical question connected to a statement of tautological fact. Since we traffic in irony, it helps that an undulating synth-progression provides the background for an affirmation of a human heartbeat. Other than Marina's singular vocals (think Regina Spektor meets Imogen Heap), there aren't any human hand-prints on this song. It is almost intentionally not human.

After The Killers debated our humanity last year, you'd think this act would be tired. Well, guess what? It's not. Discussion of existence and red-blood-heart-beating definition won't get old. You can't program that debate into your personal device and wait for the right application to tell you what to feel or what to say or who to turn to. (Pedantic? Sure.) Zeros and ones can beat us in chess and take us to the moon. They fly our planes and they fight our wars. The binary system is, in fact, completely responsible for what you're reading right now. About 75% of the time, we live in the Matrix. Not today. Guess what?

Listen :: Marina and the Diamonds - "I'm Not A Robot" [Starsmith's 24-Carat Remix]
Bonus :: Marina and the Diamonds - "Obsessions"

Egyptian Hip-Hop :: "Rad Pitt"

Egyptian Hip-Hop is, believe it or not, a real band. And in the true spirit of independent rock, they are neither Egyptian nor hip-hop. Rather with "Rad Pitt," the Manchester kids have done something vaguely Joy Division and a track that could certainly soundtrack a montage in the 2009 Breakfast Club. It is both adolescent, depressing, and energetic - maybe even a little reminiscent of I Was A Cub Scout. The warm guitars hide crushing questions: "who am I to you/but a mighty fool?" And that's just the chorus - a fist-pumping, New Order-ride to the the top of a spare arrangement. Don't you forget about this band.

Listen :: Egyptian Hip-Hop - "Rad Pit"

On The List :: Art Brut @ Mercury Lounge [6.3.09]

[editor's note: this runs in full on The House List. the crowd was great and the band was explosive. it's easy to get down on the city and our music crowds. sometimes we get it right. ready, art brut?]

Eddie Argos, lead singer of Art Brut, looked out into the audience and deadpanned: “My sex is on fire.” It was fairly late in the set and Argos had already made clear his disdain for Kings of Leon. But to clarify, he elaborated: “Twelve revisions and a million dollars and we got ‘My sex is on fire.’ What does it mean? What the fuck does any of it mean?” It’s an appropriate question—especially from the front man of the most deconstructionist rock band ever.

Made moderately famous in 2005 for the song “Formed a Band,” Argos remains one of the most candid, if potentially sarcastic, front men on the market. His forthrightness on this night bled as much earnestness as it did candor. He bounced around the stage spinning stories about DC Comics (even ad-libbing the company into “Modern Art”) and jilted lovers. Despite his rainbow-colored shirt, Argos was less ironic than you might think. In fact, underneath the whole deconstructionist act, Art Brut was lethally serious.

The band was smack in the middle of a five-night residency at the Mercury and they looked no worse for wear, though Argos mused, “I’m running out of original things to say.” This bout of self-awareness was disarming and the band immediately launched into “Emily Kane” with Argos annotating about the power of rock and roll. The show was sold out and the crowd had the band’s lyrics more than memorized. Art Brut eventually left on “Bang Bang Rock & Roll,” a song that again pointed the lens inward and still left the audience wanting more. What does it all mean? We don’t have coherent answers—just be happy Art Brut is asking the questions.

Listen :: Art Brut - "Formed A Band"

Throw Me The Statue :: "Ancestors"

I don't have mixed feelings about Throw Me The Statue. The kid is ridiculously talented and got his music licensed just about everywhere. If you're scoring at home, that's a combination of precociousness and creativity and straight cash. It helps that for those of us paying attention, he's closest to making a Neutral Milk Hotel record that we're going to get in the next five years.

Using the Neutral Milk barometer, this is less "Aeroplane Over The Sea" and more "Holland 1945." It has an edge to it. "Ancestors" has a dominant lead-bass riff, which turns angry-as-hell during the verses. You can almost hear the bass guitar muttering and fuming to itself as the lyrics ("we were having such flagrant fun") sail out like a case for oxymoronic juxtaposition. If the vocals were anything less than intimate and hushed, this song would be certifiably angry.

As it stands, "Ancestors" washes more introspective than furious. And that accounts for the wailing post-punky guitars in the chorus - which is, for the record, absolutely fantastic. Really, really fantastic. This is as anthemic as Throw Me The Statue is going to get. Which, makes him the king of carrot flowers. Part three.

Listen :: Throw Me The Statue - "Ancestors"

Guy Fantastico :: "Nom De Guerre"

"Nom De Guerre" was written and produced in Costa Rica. It sounds like it. Something vaguely tropical with a shade of futurism. It's a surf record and Guy Fantastico (we'll assume it's a stage name) wrote it in between surf sessions. Those are the facts. Onto the analysis.

"Nom De Guerre" leaves you with a far better impression than it begins with. The first two verses are forgettable, maybe even a little flat in places. The chorus rescues the track each time with all the flair of a parachute from free-fall or all the drama of a life-line thrown into an undertow. It is a profound turnaround. And things only get better. By the last refrain a synth-background fleshes out the sing-song melody, managing to balance the mechanical stomp of the percussion. Imagine a voodoo marionette: mechanized, tropical, lush, and a little crazy. "Nom De Guerre" asks us to name our conflicts. This is the kind of battle you can fight from the beach. All you have to do is sit through the first two verses.

Listen :: Guy Fantastico - "Nom De Guerre"

Fanfarlo :: "Finish Line"

One of my favorite moments of the last 72-hours involved screaming the lyrics to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's "Tidal Wave Of Young Blood." We were in the left-hand lane doing 85 through central Massachusetts. It was sunny and we were unleashing ourselves on the world with hurricane force. We were maybe the perfect storm. We were on the way to a wedding in a cemetery. You can't make these things up.

The loose connection is Fanfarlo. Their lead-singer sounds like a chalked up version of Alex Ounsworth's tweaking vocals from Clap Your Hands. The arrangements are more polished and stylistically, the two band's share little. But when it comes to marble-mouthed-roughed-up vocals, they are near twins. And the latest drop from the Fanfarlo camp is the understated "Finish Line." It is loosely and unsurprisingly about completing things. It has a slow build and doesn't quite pay-off like other songs on the wrecking-force new record Reservoir. But as we raced by people and made furtive glances at single-women in speedy cars, the weekend was wrapping up. The spring was coming to a close. We are in the next movement.

Listen :: Fanfarlo - "Finish Line"