Kinnikinnik

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Flip to page 46 to read my recent feature on the Charlotte-based recording label/collective Kinnikinnik Records in the December issue of Uptown Magazine.

Sunn O))) - Domkirke

MUSIC REVIEWS

Sunn O)))
Dømkirke

[Southern Lord; 2008]

----
Styles: drone, metal
Others: Earth, Mayhem, Xasthur
Links: Stephen O’Malley - Southern Lord

A faceless audience applauds at the onset of the live performance in a Bergen, Norway cathedral that was to become Dømkirke, the limited-run double-LP from the doom-drone masterminds Sunn O))). They’re silent until the very end. Post-production editing, perhaps, but I’d prefer to imagine that the audience was too awestruck, too paralyzed with fear and admiration to provide any more than its eager claps at the introduction and its rush of cathartic applause at the conclusion of the hour-long running time.

The strength of Dømkirke (and, it should be noted, of Sunn O)))’s catalog) is the recognition of the drone not as an end unto itself, but as a foundation from which to build and recede these long-form campaigns of volume, texture, and dynamic. Here, the confluence of ground-rattling bottom end, burbles of feedback skuzz, barrel-chested brass, the mammoth, immovable presence of the cathedral’s God-knows-how-old pipe organ, and the haunting, Gregorian-inflected moans and summonings of Atilla Csihar (of the infamous black metal band Mayhem) becomes a palpable entity — one, which even at moderate volume, was very literally shaking the contents of my countertops. What is captured on Dømkirke is Sunn O))) reaching for something timeless, its medieval hues meeting 21st-century black metal and avant-noise — more akin to black metal for its oppressiveness and fascination with all things old (olde?). This is an evocation, like a soothsayer’s prophesy of doom, despite the intelligible nature of Csihar’s moans and the abstract construction of the four cuts (all of which stretch easily beyond the 13-minute mark).

Although the mood is uniquely ancient and ominous (pre-apocalyptic vs. post-), and Dømkirke’s use of venue as instrument is noteworthy to say the least, little else will sound new to anyone familiar with heavy drone. But that’s not the point, either. The draw here is a subtle fluctuation that, spun over time, becomes as urgent and dynamic as anything can be. Chords plunge and tumble into a rumbling wash of blackened tone as new textures say their piece and plunge, in turn, into the abyss. As the sonic siege reaches its most vicious climax near the end of “Masks The Ætmospheres,” one couldn’t be blamed for trembling — be it from emotional impact or the sheer density of the tones. Without qualification, the spatial element of Dømkirke is its most impressive. It’s hard not to react physically and audibly, as the audience did, to the subsiding of Sunn O)))’s avalanche of ominous, voluminous sound. It’s an exhausting, albeit exhilarating experience.

1. Why Dost Thou Hide Thyself In Clouds? 2. Cannon 3. Cymatics 4. Masks The Ætmospheres

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 11/25/08

Wallpaper - On The Chewing Gum Ground

Wallpaper
On The Chewing Gum Ground
[K; 2008]

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Styles: rock ‘n’ roll
Others: Ramones, The Kinks, The Vaselines
Links: Wallpaper - K

At first glance, it’d be easy to toss On The Chewing Gum Ground, and Wallpaper, the band responsible for it, into a pile with all the other non-pretentious, “it’s just rock ‘n’ roll” bands to enter the ears of the post-Beatles listening public. But that wouldn’t be quite right. The usual touchstones are scattered here and there: a little Ramones sneer, a Who swagger, a Kinks jangle, a Kingsmen howl. And, seeing as this is a K Records release, there’s just a touch of twee-pop’s starry-eyed earnestness — see “Pop Rocket” and its sock-hop chant-along for proof.

But despite its influences, worn as visibly as a t-shirt, Wallpaper has a level of cheeky self-awareness that makes a route dismissal of the band as “good old-fashioned rock music” miss the mark. The verses in “Pop Rocket” alone name drop Elvis Presley, Kurt Cobain, Bob Dylan, and John Lennon as apparitions appearing in dreams. It’s as if by checking names off the list, Wallpaper is asserting its place among these heroes — or at least among their most ardent fans. Indeed, it often feels as though Wallpaper (like many of its potential fans, perhaps) wouldn’t mind being judged by its record collection. Still, it’s hard to say Wallpaper is merely a band playing the music its members want to hear, with nary a care of others’ opinions — basically, it’s hard to brush them off with a halfhearted, euphemistic description that functionally just calls the music boring.

The introduction of keyboard textures on “New California” and “Auto Bop” prevent the guitar pop formula from getting too overbearing, in the same way that elliptical songs like “New California” offset the artifice-as-art of referential cuts like “Pop Rocket” and “Rock & Roll World” (which references “Ringo, George, and John and Paul” right off the bat). As a whole, On The Chewing Gum Ground feels less like a replication or amalgamation of past sounds, and more like a continuation of them.

1. Auto Bop 2. Solar Panel Sleeve 3. Nod Off 4. Pop Rocket 5. Vertigo Jane 6. Shag Carpet 7. New California 8. Rock Collage 9. Bottom Top Blues 10. This Is The Chase 11. Deflated 12. Totalled 13. Total Explosion 14. Rock & Roll World

by Bryan Reed

Tiny Mix Tapes, 11/19/08

Hearing Aid

YES, PLEASE

11.13 THE MOANERS/ THE TRAMPSKIRTS @ RESERVOIR

Here's a double bill of few-frills rock: Chatham County duo The Moaners takes the top slot with grimy guitar that spins through distortion that hangs in the air like moisture, big drums that barrel like a downhill semi, and lurching melodies that creak with swagger. The Moaners' last album, 2007's Blackwing Yalobusha, was recorded at the old Money Shot Studios in Yalobusha County, Miss., with Squirrel Nut Zipper and Buddy Guy sideman Jimbo Mathus on deck. Nashville's Trampskirts takes a decidedly more punk-rock approach, the quartet's full-band fury raging like a swamp-rock Distillers. Donations/ 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

INTRODUCING...

11.19 TEH VODAK @ NIGHTLIGHT

As they'd have you believe, Teh Vodak is both an up-and-coming rock band and a drunken mistake. The name, after all, is a misspelled tribute to the band's spirit of choice, and as they'd tell you, it stuck only after they misspelled it when starting a MySpace band profile. The truth is a bit more mundane. Teh Vodak formed from the (mostly online) meeting of Pink Flag's Betsy Shane and Blackstrap's Ben Donnelly. Oh, well: "If you wanna perpetuate the myth, I'm all for it," says Donnelly.

But the band's fabricated backstory fits the uninhibited rock sounds they're peddling. Donnelly's noisy, angular approach and Shane's pop propensities would never work together if both parties weren't up for (or under) some influence. "I think we end up with the sound that we're both going for," says Donnelly. More specifically, Wire's bristle, The Minutemen's jitters, and the pop-punk sugarbuzz of the late Be Your Own Pet, all parlayed through one drunken promise. With Alcazar Hotel and Joke & Jokes & Jokes at 10 p.m. —Bryan Reed

Sound Bites

Wednesday

Brendan James — Brendan James, a former college a cappella singer turned piano-pop troubadour, hits New Brookland Tavern under an MTV banner. The long-running cable network’s lingering cultural relevance owes far more to the pseudo celebrities of The Hills than it does to alternative rock, but that suits James and his subtly dramatic, mostly mellow smooth jams just fine. His songs practically beg to soundtrack a sweeping panoramic shot that zooms into a crying blonde being consoled by her best friend — which is to say if you like Zach Braff movies, Frappuccinos or dudes in cable-knit sweaters, this’ll be right up your alley. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 8 p.m., $6; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Friday

Hollywood Undead

Hollywood Undead — Presumably, the masks worn by Hollywood Undead’s six members serve not only aesthetic purposes but are worn as physical manifestations of apology for the L.A. atrocity’s steaming pile of eight-years-too-late nu-metal excrement. The band’s best riff (from “Undead”) is stolen from Papa Roach’s “Last Resort.” The sextet’s (hurr, hurr, I said sex) rampant misogyny, homophobia (Aside: Where the hell is flippant use of the word “faggot” still acceptable?) and sophomoric sub-frat humor turn mindless songs into exercises in aural endurance. Now I’m just stuck debating whether Limp Bizkit or Insane Clown Posse makes a more apt reference, as though it even matters. This might well be the worst music I’ve ever heard. B. Reed
Headliners: 8 p.m., $12 ($10 advance); 796-2333, headlinerscolumbia.com.

Free Times, 11/12/08

8 Days A Week

Wednesday 11.12

Chapel Hill
Harmute, Mary Johnson Rockers
Local 506—Openers Mary Johnson Rockers and Lafcadio supply soft, shuffling twang, making Harmute's mildly theatrical pop-rock the wild card here: With hardly a hint of country to its sound, Harmute's wistful piano-led songs blend equal parts Broadway ballad and lite-rock boogie. Lead singer Skylar Gudas sings in a warm way, while guitarist Jesse Wooten wraps his slightly nasal voice around Gudas' lower range. The voices earn prominent placement thanks to largely understated arrangements, punctuated with eager drum fills and tasteful strings. The 9 p.m. show is free, but donations will be collected for the Orange County Rape Crisis Center. —Bryan Reed

Independent Weekly, 11/05/08

I Was Totally Destroying It - Done Waiting EP

I Was Totally Destroying It's Done Waiting

(self-released)

5 NOV 2008 • by Bryan Reed

Something happened to I Was Totally Destroying It in the past year, as though the band collectively decided its career had better be more than a few Cradle shows and local adulation (or derision, depending on whom you ask) after releasing its full-length debut in 2007. The tight, precise, polished power-pop the band peddles is the kind of ear-grabbing musical snowcone that many love, many love secretly, and many outwardly hate. This band could or should be famous, and its new, seven-track, MP3-for-free EP Done Waiting sounds refined enough to make for the big time. Whereas that first LP promised versatility at the risk of consistency, this EP finds the band, sonically at least, bursting with purpose. The debut's lighthearted momentariness gives way to a bolder push for something—anything—bigger.

In the process, some of the local allusions that made the debut a Triangle hit get lost, swapped for an elliptical songwriting tack that still suits the band's melodic propensities. Only "Teeth," with its snapped syllables and rhythmic bludgeon, cracks the sing-song mold, and even it swells into a milkshake-smooth chorus.

IWTDI's previous variety act comes folded into better textures beneath these focused tracks: No longer the chugging guitar-centrists of last year, the band stretches its range by adding acoustic plunking to the foreground of "The Masquerade" over the near-Theremin glow of Rachel Hirsh's keyboards. The album's most spacious track, it's a welcome contrast to the other tracks' large-venue ambition. Indeed, what's constant throughout is the record's clear ascendant aims, as if IWTDI got out of the basement and got dressed for a big-time job interview.

I Was Totally Destroying It plays Troika Music Festival at The Pinhook Saturday, Nov. 8, at 11 p.m. Tickets are $5. To download Done Waiting, visit reverbnation.com/iwastotallydestroyingit.

Independent Weekly, 11/05/08

Troika Music Festival

Thursday, Nov. 6

DURHAM CENTRAL PARK (Foster Street)

⇒ Future Kings of Nowhere (8:30 p.m.) FKON's Shayne O'Neill pulls elements from a long line of songwriters: He gathers Blake Schwartzenbach's emotional clarity and metaphorical whims, Elvis Costello's hooks and sarcasm, John Darnielle's detailing eye, and Billy Bragg's knack for pulling universal truths from small experiences. All sung, it's what makes his busker-punk project one of the area's best. —BR

The Pinhook (117 W. Main St.)

Juan Huevos (9:45 p.m.) Juan Huevos' electro-fueled hip-hop floats brash come-ons and boasts over clipped samples and taut beats, balanced—to Huevos' benefit—with wit and self-awareness. —BR

Broad Street Cafe (1116 Broad St.)

Shakermaker (10 p.m.) Shakermaker's cool-breeze pop rock stays fresh thanks to touches of bluegrass twang and AM Gold gleam, using restraint and harmony like capital. —BR

Friday, Nov. 7

Carolina Theatre (309 W. Morgan St.)

⇒ The Rosebuds (10:45 p.m.) Now four LPs into a career, The Rosebuds is more confident, more assured and just plain better than ever before. The still-fresh Life Like is an effective synthesis of everything the band's done to date—jangle, pop, disco, dance, rock, roll, smile and sulk. —BR

Bull McCabe's (427 W. Main St.)

⇒ The Wigg Report (11:55 p.m.) Equal parts Beat Happening, Violent Femmes and Agent Orange, the Bull City trio throws eager sax and male-female vocal interplay into its jittery acoustic punk. Scrappy and fine. —BR

Saturday, Nov. 8

The Pinhook (117 W. Main St.)

I Was Totally Destroying It (11 p.m.) In the year that's passed since IWTDI released its out-of-nowhere full-length gem, the band has grown its occasionally wiry, hook-laden power-pop into a full-bodied force of stadium-sized proportions. For more, see page 40. —BR

Duke Coffeehouse (Crowell Building, Duke University's East Campus)

⇒ Midtown Dickens (10:45 p.m.) A Midtown Dickens show is a front-porch parade, gallivanting from off-the-cuff humor to unexpected poignancy, both exuding the same best-friend intimicay. These days, expert more instruments, better playing and the same ragged charm. —BR

⇒ The Curtains of Night (10 p.m.) The monolithic riffage of the two-piece Curtains of Night offers a bigger and bolder bludgeon than most bands with twice the personnel. The duo's modal shifts turn blazing riffs into a monumental scorched earth campaign—an endlessly captivating, if deliberately paced, siege of burning amp-buzz and jagged rhythm. —BR

The Sirens Lounge (1803 W. Markham Blvd.)

Nathan Oliver (10:15 p.m.) The caffeinated soul of Nathan Oliver sings from the intersection of wistful crooning and manic howls, coming together in a settled, melodic way. —BR

Rat Jackson (8:30 p.m.) Booze and broads provide more than enough grist for the mill of Rat Jackson's tightly wound blues explosion. —BR

The Marvell Event Center (119 W. Main St.)

Dr. Powerful (9:45 p.m.) Dr. Powerful has more in common with Polvo than just drummer Eddie Watkins. It approaches rock head-on, warping guitars as an accent, not a focal point. —BR

Independent Weekly, 11/05/08

Sound Bites

Wednesday

The Toasters — Saying The Toasters, the band formed in 1982 by British expat Rob “Bucket” Hingley, are responsible for bringing ska stateside isn’t much of an overstatement. Much of the credit (or blame — your call) for ska’s momentary ubiquity in the ’90s belongs to the long-running band and its brass-and-organ accented take on the genre. Indeed, the band owes a heavy debt to forbears The Specials and The English Beat — to say nothing of their Jamaican forbears — but The Toasters effectively imported the two-tone sound and aesthetic, opening the doors for a legion of followers. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7:30 p.m., $10; 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.


Thursday

The Western Civilization — Houston’s The Western Civilization brings with it a metronomic hypnosis born of steady drum loops and simply constructed arrangements that open plenty of space for two- and three-part vocal counterpoints. The young quartet’s chamber-charm holds water, but the songs don’t vary much in structure or dynamic. Still, the band’s sound is full enough to allow for interesting lines to emerge with gracious subtlety. It’s enough to keep the songs moving fluidly, avoiding tedium and evolving an earnest appeal in the band’s few-frills approach to acoustic-based indie rock. B. Reed
The Whig: 7 p.m., free; 931-8852, thewhig.org.


Sunday

MC Chris — Lumped somewhat unfairly in the wave of nerd-core rappers, Brooklyn’s MC Chris turned small-scale notoriety (as a voice on Adult Swim’s Aqua Teen Hunger Force) into a cache of singles, including the Star Wars-referencing “Fette’s Vette” — hence the nerd-core associations. Mostly, though, MC Chris is a comic emcee, slinging his upper-register voice through a minefield of rhyming one-liners and energized beats. He’s funny, for sure, but he’s also a force to be reckoned with behind the mic, flowing with ease and geek-chic confidence as he covers topics as wide-ranging as sex-acts and cough-syrup inebriation. B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7:30 p.m., $12 ($10 advance); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Tuesday

The Pink Spiders — “Little Razorblade,” from The Pink Spiders’ 2006 album, Teenage Graffiti — produced by The Cars’ Ric Ocasek, no less — is still the best example of the Nashville band’s occasionally brilliant blend of early-’80s power-pop and post-millennial pop-punk. Ascendant synths, mildly snotty vocals and thick walls of guitar, all soldered together with sudden vamps and effervescent energy, make the song a near-perfect chunk of bubblegum. Elsewhere, these elements don’t always seem to mesh as consistently, but at the moments when they do, The Pink Spiders pose like they could be the heir to The Cars throne. 
B. Reed
New Brookland Tavern: 7:30 p.m., $12 ($10 advance); 791-4413, newbrooklandtavern.com.

Free Times, 11/05/08

Thursday/Envy - Split

Thursday / Envy
Split

[Temporary Residence, Ltd.; 2008]

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Styles: post-rock, post-hardcore
Others: Explosions In The Sky, U.S. Christmas, At The Drive-In
Links: Thursday - Envy - Temporary Residence

This might be the first time I’ve been able to say that I like a Thursday record without feeling obligated to stammer out a qualification. The band’s early work was solid but blunt, relying far too much on frontman Geoff Rickly’s divisive yelps. He’s always had a knack for sounding on the verge of a breakdown, something that doesn’t necessarily hold up for the duration of an album. So, after teetering on the edge of a breakup, Thursday returned with 2006’s A City By The Light Divided, which found the band employing more subtle dynamics and fuller sonic textures to Rickly’s consistently touching lyrics. But the Thursday that fans had fallen for was gone, replaced by a half-neutered rock band that sounded ready for their windblown, mountaintop closeup. It just didn’t sound desperate anymore.

Two years down the road, Thursday finally comes of age with the A-side to this split LP with Japan’s Envy. In four songs, Thursday prove their ambition, but also unleash the urgency that drew listeners to the band in the first place. Opener “As He Climbed The Dark Mountain” is the band at their finest. Charging out of the gates with an avalanche of guitars and drums, Rickly lets his brittle voice loose, carrying the song with a newfound melodic confidence, but never losing touch with his emotional heft. He’s pleading, desperate, and excitable, reminding us that ‘emo’ is supposed to stand for ‘emotion’ — and he’s in no short supply. A stream of moaning guitar swirls around the song’s final act, and Rickly, sounding as though he’s leveled himself, drops to a whisper before disappearing altogether in the stellar instrumental “In Silence.” Without Rickly, Thursday are forced to delve even deeper into post-rock dynamics, with nervous electronic glitches coursing through the song’s trudging, fuzz-baked duration. Piano and guitar noise keep things aloft, while a syncopated drum base keeps the song staggering and — as is once again becoming customary for the band — urgent. “In Silence” later sees a re-imagined remix treatment from Anthony Molina of Mercury Rev, becoming “Appeared And Was Gone.” And, simply put, Thursday have put together their best work here.

Envy, then, have a lot to live up to on their half of the LP, and the Japanese quintet delivers. The serenity of the opening moments of “An Umbrella Fallen Into Fiction,” where a buried xylophone melody seeps through suspended guitar tones and electronic clatter, gives way to a droning buildup four minutes in, and the song rolls into a heaving, layered mass. Elsewhere, the band spins post-hardcore timing into mud-caked sludge, meshing post-metal’s smoldering heaviness with a ferocity born of punk. Melodies worm through the mire, but nourish the songs into fertile bludgeons. “Pure Birth and Loneliness” begins with a meditative passage that snowballs into the song’s desolate belly, guitars soaring on sustained notes and down-tempo melodies playing counterpoint to a churning rhythmic base. These are standard genre tropes used competently, but not inventively.

Envy certainly do their fair share of the legwork in making the split a success, but it’s the surprise of Thursday’s evolution that provides the richest reward.

1. As He Climbed The Dark Mountain (Thursday) 2. In Silence (Thursday) 3. An Absurd and Unrealistic Dream of Peace (Thursday) 4. Appeared and was Gone (Thursday) 5. An Umbrella Fallen Into Fiction (Envy) 6. Isolation of a Light Source (Envy) 7. Pure Birth and Loneliness (Envy)

by Bryan Reed

Grampall Jookabox - Ropechain

MUSIC REVIEWS

Grampall Jookabox
Ropechain

[Asthmatic Kitty; 2008]

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Styles: psychedelic pop
Others: Beck, of Montreal, Animal Collective
Links: Grampall Jookabox - Asthmatic Kitty

For many of the bands with whom Grampall Jookabox is likely to be compared, sonic experimentation is as much artifice as art, a mask to hide largely empty songs behind. It makes for easy infatuation, but tends to offer diminishing returns as the layers of sound are peeled back to reveal a vacuous core of meaningless gibberish. What places Ropechain, Grampall’s second release for Sufjan Stevens’ Asthmatic Kitty label, above its emotionally vacant peers is a willingness to trade drugged-out euphoric rambling with tangible anxiety.

The album rides its paranoia into absurdist tomes on life’s biggest questions: God, love, birth, death, madness, and Michael Jackson. “Strike Me Down” addresses man’s relation to God in a fearful, nervous lament. Repetition plays an important role here, like a crazed rambling. Dave Adamson, Grampall’s singular figure, croons, “Oh, God is comin’ back/ He spoke to me” over and over again in a brittle falsetto, breaking only to exclaim, “Strike me down/ Strike me down.” Backwards tape loops and disembodied voices swirl around Adamson’s anxious, solitary speaker as drums clatter out a repetitive stomp. “I Will Save Young Michael” and “I’m Absolutely Freaked Out” both pose the King of Pop as a vehicle for exploring mental instability.

Indeed, there’s humor in Ropechain’s paranoia, but like most good jokes, it’s a way to prod at some hidden truth we can all acknowledge. This device is perhaps most notable on lead single “The Girl Ain’t Preggers,” which, with its funky bassline and declaration of “Don’t it make you feel good when the girl ain’t preggers,” rings true enough to warrant at least a smirk. But the song also rolls itself into a surrealist demonstration of exactly the type of anxiety — again, expressed with jarring drums and a spectral choir of wordless vocals — that the idea of an unexpected birth can create. And, sure enough, the song flips itself around from “I need some money right now/ Ain’t got no money I can’t pay for no baby” to “I love a baby face/ I love a baby face, I want to kiss the baby,” and from “Don’t it make you feel good” to “Don’t it make you feel sad when the girl ain’t preggers.” The duality of a potential father’s emotions, both sides equally nervous, is conveyed in the song.

Here, surrealism is a vehicle to reach uncomfortable truths or to address the anxieties that plague us all. Sonic embellishment is, instead of a collection of pretty sounds mashed together, a mode to manipulate dynamic and mood. Adamson claims the album was influenced by meditations on madness and paranormal activity, and it shows. Otherworldly voices moan and squawk. Nervous energy drives the record between straightforwardness and opaque abstraction. But together, the sum is a fully realized psychological exploration. When the layers of sound are peeled back, you’ve still got Adamson’s lonely paranoia. But without the ghosts he calls company, the vision is much more chilling.

1. Black Girls 2. Let’s Go Mad Together 3. Ghost 4. Old Earth, Wash My Beat 5. The Girl Ain’t Preggers 6. You Will Love My Room 7. I Will Save Young Michael 8. The One Thing 9. We Know We Might Be Fucked 10. Strike Me Down 11. I’m Absolutely Freaked Out

by Bryan Reed

Shuffle Magazine, issue 4

Get your own - Open publication

Check out my cover story on The Rosebuds, plus features on Lost In The Trees and Death Becomes Even The Maiden, reviews, blurbs and more.