Modern Pea Pod

M. Ward – Post-War

admin — Sat, 01 May 2010 17:00:03 +0000

There are some artists who strictly defy genres. Think of Roy Orbison. Yes, he was one of the famed artists on Sun Records, but what was he really? Was he rockabilly? Pop? Country? Easy Listening? In my mind, the closest term to describe Roy Orbison’s music is the one Bob Dylan coined for him: “cowboy opera.” Orbison’s voice was a river of silk floating through the grit and dry heat cacti. And while I know that M. Ward is no Roy Orbison (although he did a more than fair job taking Orbison’s place on Jenny Lewis’ cover of the Traveling Wilburys’ “Handle with Care” this year), there is a similar feeling to both men’s music.

Ward’s songs travel through the soundscape of the southwestern United States without conforming to country values, indie values, or Tex-Mex guitar values; they exist soundly and squarely on their own terms. As a singer, he may not fall into the modes of theatricality as often as Orbison, but brittle emotion still reigns at the core of each track on Post-War.

While I mentioned that there is a western feel to this album, it may not be distinguishable to most listeners. There are few common “western elements” to be heard on Post-War — although, admittedly, tracks such as “Requiem” and “Chinese Translation” would sorely beg to differ. What there are, instead, are many smaller moments throughout the record, which (much like the mythical American West itself) are bigger than speakers, headphones, living rooms, or LPs. These moments feel as wide and open as walking through fields, catching your breath as the wind streams past a moving train, and the squinty feeling of trying to remember the exact color of mountains, plains, and soil. Just listen to the title track: there is a strange, evocative late-night silence captured between its musical notes, leading the song to transcend its humble medium and blossom into a full-fledged experience.

Indeed, Post-War has an oddly larger-than-life, mythical quality to it from beginning to end, not akin to the narcissistic Greek Gods, but more in step with the often ignored American Tall Tales. Characters and feelings sweep through this album that could stand shoulder to shoulder with the John Henrys, Paul Bunyans, and Calamity Janes of renown. The songs are real people, with exaggerated flaws which are both repulsive and desirous (“Magic Trick”); they are epic soundscapes which can stir the imagination with little prodding (the neo-surf feel of “Neptune’s Net,” which made this reviewer want to buy a boogie board and seek out a pet dolphin); and they are moments which are infinitely relatable, despite any grandeur or poetry flung at its core (“Right in the Head”).

There may be records which are more glitzy, glamourous, and initially more exciting than Post-War, but there are few which are so comfortably sculpted. What’s more, this is not a record for people who wish to be challenged strictly within the confines of its style, but more for those in search of inspiration that transcends trends and genres. Luckily for us, though, that kind of inspiration just happens to be M. Ward’s specialty.

Reviewed by Megan Giddings

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Paul’s Boutique (33 1/3 Series) by Dan LeRoy

admin — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 17:00:39 +0000

“A blue bong, high quality indica buds, hash, hash oil, freebase, red wine, cigarettes, LSD, coffee, and whippets.” Dust Brother Mike Simpson’s recollection of the essential items in the production of the Beastie Boy’s second album gives more than a hint about why this particular slice of hip-hop has been, to say the least, a little obscured. And this is the Beastie Boys album which needs the most exposition; even though most people will tell you that it’s their masterwork, the circumstances surrounding it have been in need of description.

Thankfully, this sad lack of information is filled by Dan LeRoy’s new book, which tells the album’s story in its entirety. This is definitely one of the best stories to an album I’ve had the pleasure of reading: filled with juicy and hilarious anecdotes about music industry power struggles, wild parties and ground-laying music-making, Paul’s Boutique is definitely the most entertaining of the 33 1/3 books I’ve read. There are plenty of scenes that provide major entertainment: the Beasties’ many eggings of unsuspecting victims, Capitol A&R man Tim Carr’s nude sauna business meeting with Def Jam co-founder Russell Simmons, and many more. And LeRoy’s really done his homework to stitch the story together: his bibliography is the busiest of all the 33 1/3 books I’ve been through.

The format of the book is one people who have read previous 33 1/3 volumes will be familiar with: opening with the album’s complete history, and then proceeding into a track by track description of the songs that comprise the album. Thankfully, LeRoy includes info on b-sides and outtakes, a rare and scattered bunch of songs, most with humorous, interesting stories of their own. The way he brings up some of the more salient samples that make up the songs is also admirable, hitting some nice middle ground between not discussing the composition at all and giving an exhaustive sample list (which, as the Dust Brothers and Matt Dike admit, would be impossible anyway).

The book’s final chapter wraps up and ends with a reflective note on the Beasties’ future, the album’s legacy, and, problematically, its overlaying sense of nostalgia. Nostalgia is a concept LeRoy tries to work throughout the book. He takes it to be a crucial element of Paul’s Boutique, and he expounds on it intermittently in his analysis. He makes a good argument, too; but while it’s true the album is made up of pop culture fragments from an earlier time, sometimes it doesn’t seem fair to me to pigeonhole this tendency as “nostalgia.” The artists involved weren’t really looking back with a wistful fondness; to me, it seems they were actively buoying themselves on music they loved, no matter what the cultural circumstances.

My issues with LeRoy’s book are really just little quibbles, however. For such a seminal album in the history of sample-based music, I would have liked to see a little more attention to that as a prominent feature of the album, rather than the theme of nostalgia. Then again, this book could probably be three times as long if it contained discussions about all of its aspects. For example, Paul’s Boutique, and the innovation of sample-based hip-hop that broke at the end of the 1980s, was part of a gradual trend toward self-reflexiveness in pop culture, a phenomenon that’s almost inescapable in our current cultural society of DJ Shadow, Family Guy and ironic T-Shirts built on references to TV shows that stopped running two or three decades ago.

So what better time for this book than the present? The Beastie Boys are hitting the dusty last stretch of a lengthy career, especially for the notoriously “here today, gone tomorrow” hip-hop universe. And although they’re about 15 years past their prime, they still pull it together and get interviews, magazine cover shoots, and play on the radio.

But Paul’s Boutique was pretty much the axis of their career, and this book is indispensable for that reason. LeRoy ends his work on a slightly awkward and imploring note: an invitation for the reader to get off his or her ass and put on some headphones. The entreatment might come off a little strange, but the invitation is certainly valid: if you haven’t heard the album, you need to hightail it to the nearest record store or library and get it. And when you’re done, you need to read this book.

Reviewed by Jon Cameron

Seu Jorge – Live at Montreux

admin — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 17:00:21 +0000

For most Americans (especially the shiny, young generation which uses the films of Wes Anderson as gateways to the hidden world of art houses), Seu Jorge is primarily thought of as the Brazilian man who did those Bowie covers. And while several of those covers – especially “Rebel, Rebel” – are worth the hype and attention given to them, it’s still a shame that Jorge’s original music isn’t noticed as much as it should be. Perhaps it’s because most music listeners always gravitate towards the comfortable familiar; there are very few people who actually listen to noise rock and enjoy it, for instance. And if there are few who can simply listen to noise, there seem to be even fewer who can listen to music with prominent words, and still not understand it because the words are in another language. Granted, such a feat is easier when the CD in question is mostly mood music (see Apollo Nove’s Res Inexplicata for a wonderful example of this), but Seu Jorge does not simply make lazy bee mood music. His music soars and catapults through the speakers, forcing people to move, to think, to feel. This isn’t any supermarket muzak bullshit; Seu Jorge: Live at Montreux is a blinding mist of exotica.

Language barriers aside, however, the most interesting thing about this live performance is how inviting it is. Most filmed concerts are flat, listless paintings of an event: people stand stock still, the sound is more hinted at than actually conveyed, and the atmosphere is so thin it couldn’t even support a rat, let alone an interested fan sitting on their crappy living room couch. But this oddity of a live DVD (which is much in line with watching a great Austin City Limits performance) shows exactly how great it would be to attend a Seu Jorge show. While most of those in attendance cannot understand what Jorge is saying (there are quite a few confused audience members whenever he starts talking for a long time in Portuguese), when he speaks to the crowd, they still respond to him far more than most crowds respond to musicians who they can understand.

Maybe it’s the music he plays. The faster songs grow nails which claw viciously at unmoving listeners until they join the vast sea of darting, hopping, and slipping feet. And of course, Jorge’s slow songs cannot be forgotten either – while his voice is nowhere near what an American music snob would call classically trained (and thank god!), every note which drops from his lips is somehow fantastically sad and compelling. Fellow Brazilian band CSS were smart when they said that Portuguese was too beautiful of a language to sing in for their devices – the combination of Jorge’s voice and the Portuguese language is devastating.

For those of you who want a bottom line, BUY this DVD if you want to experience something new and different and fun. Buy it because it’s a concert DVD which is as warm and comfortable as your mom making a plate of cookies, just for you. And after you watch the DVD, go see Seu Jorge in concert. You won’t understand what he’s saying, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time.

Reviewed by Megan Giddings

Happy Mondays – Live in Barcelona

admin — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 17:00:16 +0000

This DVD made me throw up a little in my mouth when I watched it. I know. I know. Happy Mondays have this huge cult following; I’ve even done research on it to see how there could possibly be more than two people who admire this music and this “band” legitimately. But it’s true. They’re out there. I don’t understand the music, I don’t see any talent, or hear any for that matter, and I’m awestruck that these musicians can actually sell tickets to a concert.

Granted, music isn’t cerebral – I shouldn’t have to understand it to like it. But this music leaves me confused and bored, devoid of any of the true feelings of which one would hope to experience at least a tinge while listening to music; especially live music from supposedly euphonious icons. And because of the fact that I can’t wrap any part of my brain, heart or soul around this music, I hate it. I vilify it. It’s human nature to berate what we don’t understand, and I’m just reacting naturally to what I believe is a group of talentless schmoes who’ve probably made most of their money on acid-damaged post-era hippies who have too much money to waste.

But anyway, I watched this dour DVD, and I thought that there might be a glimmer of hope, that maybe there was some entertaining aspect to be found. And there was. There’s a silver lining to every cloud, and folks, I’m glad to say that I’ve found it on this otherwise horrible waste of iridescent plastic. The DVD contains more than an hour of live music from a 2004 December concert in Barcelona, and there’s no question I hated it. But one of the upsides of having bonus material on these discs is that sometimes you might find a little gem, and I did.

There’s an hour and a half interview with the group’s lead singer, entitled “A Pint with Shaun.” I’ll tell you right now, don’t bother to derive any sort of practical information from this friendly interview, just lay back and enjoy the slurred speech and long tirades of Shaun Ryder. The interview takes place in some sort of brightly lit pub-in-the-making, so occasionally there’s this guy in the background working on stuff or just walking around. It’s a little distracting, but it just adds to the completely unprofessional and jovial feel of the segment. Also, someone’s cell phone rings for about a full minute at one point, but again, it just adds to the interview’s character.

And it’s great: Shaun reveals the history of the band, and explains in great detail arguments with his brother concerning touring and who came up with the group’s name. It’s long, so be prepared to roll your eyes a bit at the sheer length, and probably skip through a lot of it, but the absurdity of this extra feature made the whole disc a little easier to bear.

Of course, “A Pint with Shaun” is not the focus of the DVD, but I wish it was, for the brunt of Live in Barcelona is too ludicrous to even be deemed a headlining feature. In short, it’s the worst live music I’ve heard in quite a while. Ryder emits absolutely no energy; he just remains onstage like a blob of drunken, sweaty marshmallow, stringing together random bits of lyric while foreign back-up vocals blare, supporting nothing. New wave sound effects cut through the performance like light-sabers at a geeky kid’s 13th birthday party, and show-stealer (and apparent audience favorite) Bez prances around onstage in a spider-like jig, shaking his token maracas. Lucky guy. He even gets to fondle some hyper-fan during “Hallelujah,” obviously too delirious with the fact that she spent hard-earned money to see this awful catastrophe of a performance to realize that her breasts are being filmed for hundreds of weird Happy Mondays fans to go giddy over.

I got mixed feelings even from the DVD’s bonus material, which constitutes a picture gallery, sound check footage, the interview with Ryder, and a short biography of the group. The picture gallery, which I expected to be a collection of all sorts of photos from the band, maybe from over the years or something, is merely a small collection of stills from the live performance I just watched.

The 12-minute-long sound check footage was kind of neat – you even get to see some ass crack from one of the guitarists as he bends over. I learned that the maraca man doesn’t rehearse with his maracas, but instead with a can of soda, and Ryder has even less energy during warmup than he does during the performance, if that’s at all possible. Meanwhile, the biography portion is just a voiceover by some random guy named Mike Bayberry, who blathers a bit about the history and gives you some interesting details on the group. For instance, I had no idea that Bez called his creepy lurking jig a “Fuck You War Dance,” or that Happy Mondays’ lyrics have been compared to T.S. Eliot poems. Bayberry also lets you in on where band members are today, which is also nice to know.

In the end, to best sum up how I felt about this DVD, I would like to recite a poem of my own:

“Happy Mondays, Happy Mondays, how I long to never hear,
Happy Mondays, Happy Mondays, how you hurt my ear.
Don’t watch this DVD unless you’re in for a pathetic laugh,
For the ‘brilliant’ performance is a decrepit piece of crap.”

Reviewed by Laura Misjak

Warped

admin — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 17:00:04 +0000

It’s hot. You’re sweaty. Dozens of bands are showing off their raw skills on more than ten stages. A plethora of teenagers and young adults, wearing their punk-or-nothing personas, surround you. A ministry of radio stations has staked out their own spots within the vast parking lot to distribute their hope, wisdom, and free swag to the fastest growing consumer age market in the world.

It’s the only place where a reclusive Misfits fanatic, a Hollister-clad, tennis-playing prima donna and a forty-something business owner with a passion for up-and-coming music can join forces to become one of the most sought-after audiences in the nation. Where are you? You’re at Vans Warped Tour!!!

Yes, most of the concert-goers were about five years younger than my sidekick Aaron and me, and yes, it was hotter than Al Roker’s armpit in a wool sweater in July, but it all comes with the territory. The July 29th Detroit date for Warped Tour brought out droves of fans, and with good reason. The tour itself has expanded over the past 11 years, showcasing talent since 1995 and this year boasting more than 100 bands. In Detroit, the Comerica Stadium parking lot caged thousands of spectators, with stages lining the pavement.

Woven throughout the crowd, various booths offered everything from anti-smoking information to autograph signings from one of the performing acts. Each band’s merchandise tent filled the halls inside Comerica Park, where foot traffic was treacherous to say the least. Fans could take a load off in the shade on stadium seats that normally make room for Detroit Tigers fans’ butts. There was never a lack of something to do, or see, or hear, and although it was a bit unorganized, it worked.

Or at least, mostly it did; my one complaint is that I couldn’t find one of the stages. At all. I troved through the entire lot and simply never found it, hence missing one of the acts I’d planned to cover. I did have a little chart of which band played when on what stage, but that’s only because I was a member of the media; and I did see a huge billboard-type wall half-slated with showtimes and stages, but if I were a regular concert-goer, I would be pissed not knowing exactly where the bands I wanted to see were playing, and at what time.

Only a couple of the stages were marked clearly with their stage names, and there was no map to the locations of these stages at all, so it was pretty time-consuming just finding where you wanted to go. It all seemed as though it had been hammered together that morning, but that was honestly the only major downfall I could find. Of course I got sick of the eighth-grade girls and sweaty, shirtless punk boy-men, but like I said, it comes with the territory.

User-unfriendliness aside, though, what I really love about Warped Tour is the fact you can just wander to a stage, listen to a band you’ve never heard of before, and leave completely head-over-heels about your new discovery. Hardly anyone knows all of the bands that play there, and it’s awesome to see the event is not only a chance to hear a band you’ve loved for years, but also an opportunity to find a new style, group, or genre you love.

Also a key element to the tour is seeing how these bands can impact an audience. Stage presence is so key to live performances, and it’s kind of innate that if a band is on Warped Tour, they must possess some sort of band-to-fan chemistry through their act.

Unfortunately we couldn’t cover every act, but what we did cover, we for the most part loved. Here’s the skinny:

The Living End: This is a perfect example of one of those bands who you don’t really know, and then you go to check them out and they’re completely awesome. Aaron and I kind of stumbled onto their set about halfway through, but what we saw during the rest of the performance was fantastic. The group, whom I’d heard of before but never really listened to, definitely held the attention of the crowd. Their bass player even worked his magic on an enormous, lipstick-red double bass, unique to a punk band. In all, the Scottish group had great energy, great vocals, and really lived up to their name during the show.

Helmet: So, I’m not all that into hard, angry, violent rock music. I do like angry, “I’m kind of wounded so I’m screaming about it” music, but I’m not so keen on mannish growls and such. But, if I had barrels more testosterone and were about ten years older, I would totally have been into Helmet.

The genre isn’t really my bag, but the band was pretty good; they know how to put on a show and the vocals were strong and unyielding. You didn’t find any teenyboppers here – the crowd was filled with men. Hardcore men. Hardcore men with their hardcore ladies, and a pretty hardcore mosh pit, where my friend broke his watch. Yeah. It was that hardcore. Helmet’s grand for the real man in all of us.

Rise Against: My absolute favorite set of the day. Spectacular. I was completely overwhelmed by their talent because I’ve always had a mediocre attraction to Rise Against, but never really thought they would be good live. Boy, was I wrong.

Frontman Tim McIlrath is amazing. He’s kind of a small guy, but delivered such energy and precision to cater to one of the larger audiences of any set that day. The whole band was never off-step and kept their momentum going, which is phenomenal considering Detroit was toward the end of the tour and it was a bitch-ass hot, long day.

I now kind of love this band. The crowd went wild, and at one point I think I even saw McIlrath walk out into the audience (like, on top of them), but maybe it was a mirage. I couldn’t see too well from where I was at, but in any case, go see Rise Against live. You won’t be disappointed.

Against Me!: Weird how we kind of bopped right from Rise Against to Against Me!, but once again we find another great performance. I’m afraid these tight reviews are sounding a bit repetitive, but rest assured each set had its own wily way of charming me. Against Me! is another band that’s pretty hardcore and manly, but not as brutish as Helmet. The men played with their shirts off (because that’s how real men play the guitar), and had a cumulative vivid energy.

Their performance of “Losing Touch” was flawless, and the crowd appreciated it. The audience was a bit more diverse than Helmet’s, too, and the vibe was lighter. It was very laid-back and comfortable, with a good beat, not pent-up “I want to kill you” frustration. Still, although I did totally fall for the entire set, it seemed to lag a bit toward the middle. I lost some interest at that point, but the tempo picked up later on in the performance and I was hooked again.

The Sounds: Aaron made me listen to some of the Sounds’ songs on the way to Detroit, and I was kind of bewildered as to how they got on Warped Tour. They sound a bit New Wavish, and I couldn’t see any sign of actual punk rock – more like dance, fun, party time music. But, it wasn’t bad, just not what I would expect at Warped Tour.

In any case, the Swedes invaded the stage and jumped right into their performance; there were a couple of Sounds fanatics in the audience, but I think many just kind of wandered in and weren’t ready for a lighter band.

Lead singer Maja Ivarsson seemed a bit overbearing, straddling the microphone and crouching, exposing her white, cotton underwear for all the world to see. She kind of scared me a bit, but the rest of the band was completely endearing. To finish out their set, guitarist Felix Rodriguez and synth player Jesper Anderberg performed a hypnotic, synchronized beat, absolutely captivating and a bit unexpected from this dance-type band. The set was pretty good; the crowd wasn’t that into it, though. But, I will say that the Sounds had the best merchandise tent of the entire tour.

Valient Thorr: Okay. We only sort of listened to one song from Valient Thorr, and that’s just because it was on the way to our next set. But oh, how I long to be best friends with every member of this band. These bearded, gruffy guys are my heroes, and not just because their band name is Valient Thorr. What I heard of their music wasn’t bad, but it was kind of like Helmet, in that it totally wasn’t what I would normally listen to. Again, very testosterone-driven.

The reason I love Valient Thorr, though, is because in doing some pre-Warped Tour research and stalking through some of these unknown bands on MySpace, I found Valient Thorr’s page. It was okay, not my style again, but I looked at some of their pictures, and man, these guys are c-r-a-z-y! One picture got me hooked, and that’s where a band member is playing the guitar, hanging upside down from a WIRE!!! Wow. Also, we ran into them down merchandise alley, and Aaron shared a handful of Good & Plentys with them as I confessed the roots of my new obsession.

Saves the Day (acoustic set): At this point in the day, Aaron and I were both a little strung out. If the heat hadn’t gotten to us, the crowd had. So Aaron and I both rolled our eyes at Saves the Day singer Chris Conley’s hot pink hair, and I could hardly see what was going on, but I did hear.

What I heard was the same old Saves the Day. I don’t hate Saves the Day – I kind of like them, actually, but the one complaint is that every song sounds kind of the same to me. You know, kind of droopy, kind of whiney, but I like the vocals and I usually like what I hear.

What was weird about this set was it’s supposed to be acoustic, and it was, but it sounded exactly like every other song I’ve heard from them. No surprise, I suppose, but I anticipated hearing something more raw and maybe a bit different. It wasn’t. They did a good job of sounding how they always sound, which has alotted them their fair share of fans, but they need to branch out a bit more.

Motion City Soundtrack: I was waiting all day to see Motion City. Apparently everyone else was, too. I’ve seen the band live before, and what I remember from that set was great intensity, a great performance, and energy through the roof. I was a little disappointed with what I got at Warped Tour, however.

I understand they were one of the last sets of the day and the tour is winding down, and I think that really seemed to get to them. The performance was tired and the fans were out of it, not just because they’d been there for probably a good eight hours, but also because the band just wasn’t that into the show.

Also, I’m much more familiar with their older stuff, and I was surrounded by the young’uns who knew the band from their 2005 release, so we were kind of on two different levels. I didn’t know the words to the new songs, and they didn’t know the words to the old songs, which made me feel a bit out of place. The performance still stood – it wasn’t absolutely horrible – but comparatively it was weak.

Joan Jett & The Blackhearts: Blackhearts who? Joan Jett completely kicked ass. The headlining act delivered, and was absolutely on par with the rest of the tour. Jett wore leather pants and a string bikini top. Her muscular figure was completely frightening, but just added to her phenomenal performance.

She opened with “Bad Reputation,” and then smoothed things down with her classic cover of Tommy James & The Shondells’ “Crimson and Clover.” She played some new songs and finally took things over closing time with her trademark “I Love Rock & Roll.” Her set catered to the audience, but that was a good thing in this situation, because most of us were about to keel over from exhaustion and she managed to command our attention throughout her 30-minute performance.

She iced the cake like a firework display rounds out Independence Day. In short, Jett was the perfect act to finish out an almost perfect Warped Tour.

Reviewed by Laura Misjak
Photos by Aaron Kahn

Bonnie “Prince” Billy – Cursed Sleep EP

admin — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 17:00:54 +0000

I love EPs, even though there are so many reasons to hate them. EPs are generally overpriced CDs which contain only one good track. They rarely include rare songs that will never be released again (hellllllooooo box sets). A lot of recent EPs just seem to be remixes, too, and for the most part, I despise remixes of rock songs. Yet lately I’ve gotten two excellent EPs, which remind me of just how exciting a good EP can be. The first one was from Kanine Records’ Professor Murder, and the second is the eerie night sounds of Bonnie “Prince” Billy’s Cursed Sleep.

While the title track, “Cursed Sleep” – from the upcoming Then the Letting Go – is an aching melodic sojourn into the fog of an October night that should steal the entire disc, it’s the day of the dead skeleton rattle of second song “The Signifying Wolf” which builds LP excitement for this reviewer. The instruments of “Wolf” capture and entrap a listener faster than a camp of bloodthirsty Aztecs, while Billy aches with more bravado than Indiana Jones could ever dream of…until his inevitable descent into howling animal madness. “The Signifying Wolf” alone is worth that $6.98. And while the languid desert of closer “God’s Small Song” doesn’t have quite the same fire, it is a much-needed moment of relaxation, where the listener can put away that six shooter full of premium silver bullets and try to get their hands to stop shaking.

The three tracks of Cursed Sleep make it necessary to scramble around, looking for a calendar to mark in anticipation for the release on Stormy Records.

Reviewed by Megan Giddings

Prince – “Black Sweat”

Taking Back Sunday

admin — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 17:00:53 +0000

It shouldn’t take an especially active reader to see that the Modern Pea Pod tends not to cover music that gets played on the radio. And I’m not gonna lie: part of that comes down to our own personal tastes. But another reason why we don’t usually talk to bands who get radio airplay is because the bands who get radio airplay don’t usually want to talk to us. I mean, seriously, if you were 50 Cent, James Blunt, Red Hot Chili Peppers or the Pussycat Dolls, would you want to talk to a bunch of smarmy zine writers from Michigan?

Well, apparently, Amityville, New York’s Taking Back Sunday did want to talk to us. And oh man, have these guys been on the radio. And MTV. And the Billboard 200. In fact, Taking Back Sunday have been beating a path through the modern rock trenches since 2002, when their debut album Tell All Your Friends came at the cusp of the pop-punk/emo revolution still sweeping the mainstream airwaves today. Fred Mascherino, the band’s guitarist and co-vocalist since 2003, recently spoke for 15 minutes with MPP’s Laura Misjak. And just for the record, Fred’s a super laid back, awesome guy. Here’s what went down:

Modern Pea Pod: How are you?

Fred Mascherino: Good, good. I just got into a beach town in Florida and now I’m enjoying it.

MPP: Cool. So you guys are on tour right now, right?

FM: Yeah. To me it’s been the funnest tour we’ve ever gone on, and the biggest we’ve ever done. We’re headlining; it’s been a very exciting summer, and I really like it because all the bands are different. The Subways are garage rock. Angels & Airwaves – it’s very slick rock. And then you’ve got our cacophony on stage. It’s been really fun; everybody comes to see all the different bands, and they stay for the whole show. It’s great.

MPP: How did you make Louder Now different from your other albums?

FM: Well, one of the main things that was different with this record was time. Time spent and time that we had, because when we made the record Where You Want to Be, this lineup had only been together for less than a year. When we recorded that album, we hurried and put it out. This time we were able to make the most of 2004 and write the record, and then we took the entire fall of 2005 to record it. We got to record it with our number one choice producer, Eric Valentine, and he seemed like a good guy and a smart guy and we really wanted to work with him. He produced Queens of the Stone Age, and we wanted a heavy rock sound that was a little rougher than your average Top 40 rock, something that still had power to it. We noticed he had gotten that on a few recordings. So we just had a great time working with him and took our time with the record.

We also demoed the record twice before we actually recorded it, so we could concentrate solely on what it should sound like. Everything was written before. If nothing else, we were almost over-prepared this time around, because we rushed the last album so much. We decided that we didn’t want to do it that way and we didn’t want to make the same album over and over again. We took time to ask ourselves, “How are we going to make the best record?”

MPP: So how long has the band been together?

FM: Seven years ago we started. We came out with our first record in 2002, and then I joined the band in 2003.

MPP: Do you think your fanbase is changing?

FM: Yeah. I think a lot of the people who were listening to the first record, Tell All Your Friends, they were 16 then. They’re 21 now. We realize that your tastes change when you’re not in high school anymore; maybe you listen to the instruments more. So we wanted to grow with our fanbase, and of course we’re picking up new people. One of the ways to do that was to try and play better than on the first record. The songs were what the band wanted. We created a unified tradition that caught on quite well. We got to start playing as tightly as we can, even more so on Louder Now, and we took our playing up a step. On “Spin” [a track off Louder Now], it’s some of the best playing Mark [O'Connell]‘s ever done on the drums. He went back to his old drum teacher and got a few pointers and really played the heck out of his drums this year.

Some bands, when they get big, get lazy. Our philosophy was, we’re the luckiest dudes in the world to be able to do this.

MPP: Where do you see the band five years from now?

FM: We feel we want to keep progressing musically and bring things that are interesting to us into our music. For us, the band will keep going as long as we’re entertained by the music, as long as we feel passionate about what songs we play. We want to keep doing that as long as we can. We’re continuing to evolve, and we aren’t the band we started with. We like the music that we play. We aren’t looking to change the style dramatically. We like the way we sound now, but we also want to keep growing because it keeps us interesting and interested.

MPP: That’s awesome. Who do you think some major musical influences are for Taking Back Sunday?

FM: I think the music people listen to when they’re between 16 and 20 is the most influential music for everyone, and that’s different for all of us, but I always come back to those bands. Like for me, [guitarist] Eddie [Reyes] and Mark, it was a lot of punk rock bands, but also a lot of hardcore bands. We also like a lot of classic rock now. We kind of dug back. We have a record player on the road that we set up in the dressing room. We’ll stop places and buy some vinyl records; we’ll pick up AC/DC’s Back in Black and some Def Leppard – I know, it’s not too good. We put that on for a laugh. We’ll do that and go back to the room and blast it.

That old rock is starting to pierce through our music in some ways. One thing we don’t want to do, we don’t want people to listen to our record in ten years and say, “that sounds like the music we played in 2006.” We don’t want to sound like the other bands in our genre. We want to be the band that still rocks. That’s where we’re coming from and what pushes us along influentially.

I think the songs on Louder Now also come across a lot better live than our old stuff. So in order to experience Louder Now, the best way is definitely the live show. It’s where it’s at right now. We’re playing at our best, the best that we can right now. That’s why I think this tour is so great. Our heads are in the same place.

Taking Back Sunday is currently on tour (in Japan and the UK) promoting their new album, Louder Now, with Angels and Airwaves, Head Automatica and The Subways. For dates and other info, check their tour page.

Interview by Laura Misjak

Vetiver – To Find Me Gone

admin — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 17:00:24 +0000

The trouble with talking about a discrete movement in pop music is that there’s only so much one can say; and more often than not, what one can say is probably a woeful generalization. Take, for example, Andy Cabic of Vetiver. Willfully nebulous though it may be, there’s probably no current movement more discrete than the quote-unquote “freak folk” Cabic and his more famous friend, Devendra Banhart, have been slowly and steadily bringing to the indie limelight since 2002 or so. It can be traced to just two record labels (first Michael Gira’s Young God Records, and now Cabic’s and Banhart’s own Gnomonsong imprint) and a small handful of musical influences: British folk, pre-glam Marc Bolan, the Incredible String Band. But while it would be easy enough to begin this review simply by rattling off Cabic’s various indie folk credentials, or perhaps engaging in a side-by-side beard comparison with Devendra, that wouldn’t give much of an idea about To Find Me Gone as an album, now would it?

So instead, I’ll just say that To Find Me Gone – the second full-length by Vetiver, and the first since they became almost a household (or at least dorm room) name – is both exactly what you might expect from the movement of its origin, and a hell of a lot different. The acoustic, spidery instrumentation and Eastern textures of latter-day freak-folk albums like Cripple Crow and Feathers are all present and accounted for; in this case as early as opening track “Been So Long,” which blooms from a simple pattern of tamboura drone, ethereal backing vocals and deliberate hand percussion like a time-lapsed flower. What’s missing – or more neutrally, the area where Cabic makes his departure from form most felt – is the sprawling, communal feel of those aforementioned records and others. Freak-folk, in general, tends to put equal emphasis on both sides of the hyphen, breeding music which sounds casual, recreational, almost incidental in its creation. Tin Pan Alley, it ain’t. But with his latest Vetiver release, Cabic is branching out into a new kind of songwriting, one which sounds at least as much at home in the studio as on the festival stage. In short, he’s turning into a bit of a – gulp – professional.

Which, by the way, is not in the least meant as a slight. If Banhart will always have the edge on his frequent musical partner in terms of pure wild-eyed oddness, then Cabic is the McCartney to his Lennon in the best possible way: he inhabits the same musical space, sharing influences and backgrounds as well as the occasional chord-change trick, but his quirks are less thorny, more tempered, and ultimately, a lot more accessible. There’s no Bolanesque mewling to be found on this disc (except that which is contributed by Devendra himself, on closing duet “Down at El Rio”); instead, Cabic’s voice is as pleasing and smooth as Egyptian cotton, coming off like a blissed-out Elliott Smith on the hushed Americana prowl “You May Be Blue” and like a more mannered Ryan Adams on the gently cascading “I Know No Pardon.” He even finds the time to contribute what could arguably be freak-folk’s most potentially marketable single yet: a warm, playful, and just the slightest bit askew love song called “Idle Ties.” And with its wispy vocals and lightly plucked banjo, “Red Light Girls” sounds a lot closer to that friendlier, prettier face of indie folk, Sufjan Stevens, than anything Gnomonsong has released yet…that is, until about the four-and-a-half minute mark, when the song explodes into a squall of fuzzed-out Lou Reed guitar noodling and double-time drums.

Indeed, it’s at that precise moment when one realizes just how bizarre this album could have been; and maybe, just maybe, regrets that Cabic doesn’t seem to share as much of Banhart’s recklessly adventurous spirit as their constant associations suggest. As beautiful as To Find Me Gone can be – and, more often than not, it’s transcendantly so – it can still look a little bland when stacked up against the strengths of its genre. After all, maybe there’s more measurable musical songcraft in Vetiver’s country rocking “Won’t Be Me” than in Cripple Crow‘s Portuguese language oddity “Pensando Enti,” but while the latter sparkles with otherworldly, eccentric beauty, the former’s charms are as obvious and down-to-earth as its origins: namely American roots music, as filtered through the sun-kissed lens of California. Still, that’s movement-based criticism for you; and if To Find Me Gone strikes you as both too polished to pass for freak-folk and not twangy enough to file under alt-country, then there’s always the option of enjoying the record purely on its own merits. They exist, and they’re radiant.

Reviewed by Zach Hoskins

God Bless the Child – The Very Best of Billie Holiday

admin — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 17:00:02 +0000

It’s Billie Holiday’s immortal whisper, which Frank O’Hara eulogized in his poem “The Day Lady Died,” that engraves her signature firmly on the tombstone of musical history. Holiday’s lush, silky, and slightly faded voice drapes itself around the room every time someone puts on one of her records. Indeed, if there had to be one female jazz singer out of the many greats (Ella, Etta and Etta, Sarah, Nina) whom it’s imperative to remember, it would probably have to be Billie Holiday.

Perhaps it’s because of her 1939 rendition of the startling protest anthem “Strange Fruit” – unfortunately not included on this compilation, as it was released on Commodore rather than Columbia which has been given so much credit as one of the seeds of the fight for civil rights. Even if “Strange Fruit” didn’t have so many vast social implications, with its imagery of the bodies of lynched blacks, it would still have been a necessary stopping point for the development of Holiday’s signature style: the low, subtle, longing ballad which forces some to hold their breath in amazement, others to weep, and some to swallow a deep, otherworldly silence which settles and forms a brick of quiet and painful thoughts. Perhaps Billie’s fame is because of those signature songs, which could melt a tin heart into a pure state of longing. Or perhaps, the best reason of all for Billie Holiday’s fame is simply because she is Billie Holiday.

There is a supernatural quality to Billie Holiday, which comes both from her personal legend (an alcoholic and drug addict who died at the age of 44, a woman searching for love whose first annulled marriage was to a suspected pimp, who was rumored to be involved in a relationship with Orson Welles and to be bisexual), as well as the spooky otherworld found in songs such as the aforementioned “Strange Fruit,” “I Cover the Waterfront,” “God Bless the Child,” and “Gloomy Sunday.” It leads to the easy conclusion that Lady Day was meant for fame.

Of course, God Bless the Child features more than just the aforementioned earth-shattering style of Holiday songs, but gives us some old-movie glitz and glam nightclub feel as well, with tracks such as “I Wish on the Moon,” “Miss Brown to You,” and “What a Little Moonlight Can Do.” It’s easy to fantasize about a charming red velvet bar draped with smoke and crowded with beautiful people generating those translucent drapes, listening to music, and sipping highballs during songs such as these.

But it’s just as easy to enjoy this music here, in the present, because now is the time to celebrate music that makes a person actually feel, that drips with true sincerity and causes the world to regret. How many people are truly mourning the retirement of Britney Spears, with her vaudeville sexuality and bucket of cotton candy lyrics? I can’t think of anyone who is counting down the days until the Pop Princess returns to the stage and the recording studio – at least not anyone who isn’t either below the age of 15 or a record company executive. But think of the number of people today who are still thirsty for Billie Holiday. It’s a good amount, but there should be even more. Now is the time to celebrate Billie Holiday. So run to your nearest record store, and buy this once out of print, classic compilation.

Reviewed by Megan Giddings

Modern Pea Pod’s Holiday Mixtape

Wu-Tang Clan – Legend of the Wu-Tang: The Videos

admin — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 17:00:58 +0000

It’s a good time to be a music video fan with a DVD player. Seems like every time I look around, there’s a new video compilation to snatch, and for kids like me who have an ample amount of grainy little MPEGs on their computers, usually encoded by god knows who and probably obtained from a junk server of dubious legality, it’s nice to upgrade.

The present is also a wise time to release a DVD of definitive Wu-Tang Clan videos: ODB’s death has put the cap on the Clan’s lineup, RZA just wrote a bestselling book about “the philosophy of the Clan” or some nonsense, and the Wu Wear clothing line is decreasing rapidly in popularity. Strike while the iron is hot, or at least while the market exists, anyway.

But even pushing those things aside, the Wu-Tang Clan videos are worth being released of their own merit: they’re fun, quirky, important, and above all else, very entertaining. These videos did, after all, catch the public’s attention and contributed heavily to the Clan’s booming popularity back in the early ’90s. And if you see them as an extension of the members’ imaginations, as snapshots of where they were at any particular point in their careers, then watching them is an even more crucial step in fully scoping the Clan’s artistic ethos.

The videos are presented in chronological order, and are probably best watched that way: Wu-Tang’s four albums have fairly representative videos, and plenty of them. Fourteen videos for four LPs is a pretty hefty number, after all. Meanwhile, the individual videos themselves stretch in appeal from gritty street scenes to warped, imaginative fantasy scenarios. We’re talking about the rap group who refer to themselves as “the killer bees” and reference shlocky kung fu flicks, after all: the imagination of the Clan is a skewed one. The last music video disc I reviewed was the Sugarcubes’ video set, which had some pretty weird stuff crammed into its grooves as well. But the Wu-Tang clan might have an edge on them with the bizarre happenings in these videos. A violin gets thrown down a stairwell and explodes. The Wu-Tang Clan goes back in time. A swarm of killer bees attacks downtown New York. You get the picture.

Legend of the Wu-Tang begins with the fairly low-budget street epics of 36 Chambers, the Wu’s debut album. These are pretty standard, although the huge posse element of the music, and thus the videos, was pretty unheard of in 1993. The shift from this dark grit to the overblown indulgence of 1997′s Wu-Tang Forever is by far the steepest transition on display here. The Clan goes from grainy, burnt-out facades in the projects to montages of the members rapping for huge crowds of white kids and sitting around in furs, while archetypal video-girls make eyes at them in posh limos. Luckily, this only lasts for a couple of videos, until “Triumph,” the third single from Forever, kickstarts the group’s tastes for bizarre kids-on-a-playground scenarios and special effects on a budget. It was even directed by action/comedy somebody Brett Ratner (Rush Hour, X-Men: The Last Stand, and perhaps most strangely, producer of shlocky 2005 slasher Santa’s Slay. Seriously, look it up.).

The most entertaining video on the disc, and certainly my favorite, might be “Gravel Pit.” This inspired video’s premise is that the Clan step into a time-traveling elevator and go back into the Stone Age, where they encounter dinosaurs, flash prehistoric bling…and fight ninjas. Think The Flintstones meets King Hu meets Jurassic Park. It’s the second in a sort of trilogy of music videos from the 2000 album The W, the first part being a trip back to the flashy, break-dancing ’80s, and the end being a sort of thugged-out club montage.

On the technical side, this DVD’s image quality could probably be a little better; still, it’s decent. Those early videos were grainy to begin with, but I’m usually expecting a little more detail out of my DVD transfers. The extras are somewhat lackluster, but ample. You get a documentary from ’94, half of which is rather uninteresting live footage of an early concert, the other bits being members of the Clan talking about their craft. The alternative edit of the “Method Man” video isn’t essential stuff, but it’s alright, and the last video to feature ODB, Masta Killa’s “Old Man,” is a nice bonus. In addition, the “Careful” video was an Internet exclusive until now, and the videos are mostly unedited, so that’s always a plus.

I have to say that I’m kind of depressed that there will be no more Wu-Tang Clan albums in the future – plenty of side project stuff, I’m sure, but the quality tends to decrease for most of those. These videos, if anything, will show you how great the Wu were back in their heyday, and how they mostly kept true to their musical roots — and, perhaps more importantly, to their imaginations.

Reviewed by Jon Cameron