War on Radio

The summary on Stereogum of their new song, called Valerie Plame (as if that weren’t enough to hate them for right there), is a perfect explanation of why I hate the Decemberists.

Allow me to quote, if you will:

‘”Valerie Plame,” the first track on the first volume, is from — to quote the press release — “the point-of-view of one of Plame’s inside contacts upon discovering her true identity, the song is an amorous tribute to the onetime CIA operative.”‘

Dude, who gives a fuck, man?

Well, sort of new. Titus Andronicus (previously profiled here) has released a cover of a song from a band called Spider Bags. They swear that Spider Bags is a terrifically awesome amazing band. I haven’t listened to them, but I’ll have to check them out now.

You can listen to, and download (!!!), the new song here. There also seems to be a bit of an interview included. You can listen to the original version by Spider Bags here.

Hat tip to El Pitchfork.

In the throes of insomnia, at roughly 6AM this morning, I turned to my iPod and ended up settling on an album I haven’t heard in some time. The Holy Bible is the third album by Manic Street Preachers, released in August of 1994. The band at the time consisted of Richey James (guitar), James Dean Bradfield (guitar, lead vocals), Nicky Wire (bass) and Sean Moore (drums). The band was sort of oddly arranged–Bradfield and Moore contributed the music where Wire and James were the lyricists of the group.

As gauche as it is, it’s impossible to divorce this album from what happened to Richey James roughly six months after its release. In the morning of February 1st 1995, he left a London hotel and has not been definitively seen since. Although there is a suggestion of suicide, he’s still considered (legally, by the rest of the band and his family, as I understand it) simply missing. Since 11 of the 13 songs on The Holy Bible were (lyrically) written primarily if not totally by James, his subsequent disappearance gives the already bleak, dark tone of the record a bit of added impact.

And, if titles like “Of Walking Abortion” didn’t give it away, this is a bleak, dark record, right from the get go. The opening track, “Yes,” documents the life of a street hustler in rather harsh terms: “Oh virgins? Listen, all virgins are liars, honey.” The other singularly focused track, “4st 7lb,” depicts, with cool first-person detachment, an eating disorder withering a girl away (”I wanna walk in the snow and not leave a footprint”). Other songs are less obviously character pieces (or at least, less obvious characters), but continue the omnipresent ideas of decay and death, both spiritual and literal. “The Intense Humming of Evil” cites Nazi war crimes (a recurring theme), saying almost coyly “you always mistook fists for flowers.” “Archives of Pain,” meanwhile, philosophically considers the place of killers in society, and “Revol” cooly cuts down a litany of political figures with a razored phrase each. Etc.

The two tracks Wire takes credit on are interesting to look at in contrast–”IFWHITEAMERICATOLDTHETRUTHFORONEDAYITSWORLDWOULDFALLAPART” is (obviously) more overtly political than most of James’s writing, but rather than defeatist, it’s almost triumphant in its defiance–”We say there ain’t enough black in the Union Jack and we say there’s too much white in the Stars and Stripes.” On the other hand, “This is Yesterday,” while definitely a downer, focuses more on tender memory than present self-loathing, making it actually kind of a relief in the midst of scathing nihilism. Both indicate the somewhat lighter direction the band would take after this album and both are among Wire’s better tracks, although James is still the superior writer in this case.

Music-wise, the record is similarly ragged-but-interesting. It’s very 1994 alt-rock, but that’s a pretty wide distinction and this album is on the harder, scragglier side of it, growing out of Siouxsie-style goth and glam-rock and incorporating metal riffs and industrial rhythms into the guitar-heavy alternative sound. The production is fairly blistering–all the sounds are processed and fuzzed nearly as far as they’ll go, giving the whole album a tinny, skeletal sound. This is particularly effective since (lyrics aside) some of the songs would be rather warm without this effect; “Yes” builds off a shining riff to a towering chorus, “She is Suffering” has a hazy lilt to it, “Faster” rockets forward with a ferocious energy, etc. The result is a clinical tone that sounds like being locked out of that warmth.

On the other hand, there are a few tracks that would sound harsh in any context. The verses of “Archives of Pain” stalk their way forward over a predatory bassline and guitars that sound like gnashing teeth. “Mausoleum” starts at a whining, menacing gait before a wall of howling buzz on the prechorus and chorus. And “The Intense Humming of Evil” clatters and bangs its way through six slow, deadly minutes of instruments made to sound like crashing machines.

As with the lyrics, it’s interesting to take Wire’s tracks in contrast with the rest. While there’s slightly more contiguity in a musical sense, both songs reflect the nature of their lyrics very well. “IFWHITEAMERICA…” has a harsh edge to it, but moves with a nervous, barely restrained energy and a chorus that adopts the sound of a rousing march. And, as lyrically, “This is Yesterday” is a calm, almost peaceful moment–the rhythm is insistent, but the guitars are the gentlest they are in the entire tracklist, intertwining softly behind a soaring melody. That these two distinguish themselves on both fronts speaks to the synergy of the group–the ability of the instrumentalists to channel the personality of the lyricists as tightly as they do.

The stark, flat production and harsh, disgusted nature of the themes and subjects don’t make for an easy listen, and even taking them as benefitting the record, it’s still a messy experience to take in. But it is that: an experience, and with melodies clearly adapted to fit lyrics (rather than the other way ’round) and such a consistently dark vision presented in those lyrics, it’s a fascinating document of a man who was teetering on the edge of some kind of precipice in what turned out to be a very real way.

“What is this, a frat party?” Thus spoke the drummer of the Dandy Warhols. I, of course, did my part to contribute to the bro-ness and frat nature of the concert by complimenting a guy on his shirt. Yeah, I had nothing to do while I was waiting between bands. So why not start a little bromance, right guys? The joke compliment just slipped out. I couldn’t control myself.

The guy on the receiving end of this bro rape attempt was in a yellow shirt that said “Staff” on it, right? And the folks at the Gothic Theatre wear yellow shirts with the word “Staff” on them. I didn’t stop to think that his “Staff” (heh heh) was on the back of his shirt, as opposed to the GT’s staff which has the phrase on the front of their shirts. So the mistake comes in when I walk up to this guy, thinking he works at the Theatre, and go, “Hey, what’s the photography policy for tonight?” (The Gothic sometimes allows pictures and sometimes does not.) “Oh, haha, it’s actually a shirt for the Buffs,” he says. Or something like that. It was something to do with a local college, anyway. So I was like, “Oh, sorry for the confusion — but it looks quite becoming on you!”

Bro rape was just barely averted. See, I have this compulsion to make jokes and comments like that when I talk to people and I can’t really control it. It just comes out.

Anyway, the show: it rocked. I know uncle Bret hates the Dandy Warhols — and I totally get why. But without them, I wouldn’t listen to a lot of the music I do today. They introduced me to shoegaze and the whole Brian Jonestown Massacre scene and so on. So yeah, while Courtney Taylor can be a major, major ass, the Warhols have special sentimental value to me. Sorry in advance for all the sucking up to them I am about to do, guys.

The opening band opening for the opening band — haha — was called The Upsidedown (who later came up and moshed next to me for a bit?), a local Portland band. Because the exact start time of the show wasn’t clear, we got there a little late and only caught their last two songs. But I gotta say, they sounded pretty good from what I heard!

Darker My Love came next and they were awesome. Their drummer was once the drummer for The Nerve Agents and The Distillers and, Jesus Christ, he can beat the hell out of the drums, man. They sounded really good, too, which is nice. Sometimes bands at the Gothic suffer from poor sound, but they got it right. They played a cool set and it was ridiculously loud — in a good way.

The Dandy Warhols came out next and played an interesting set list. They played a ton of their singles and more poppy songs. That was good, because it meant that the 7 minute nonsense and wankery that went on with their CD Odditorium was left out. While I hate being mean to bands I like… Jeez, that CD was not so great. Anyway, they played nearly 2 hours. There was no encore, but man, they had the crowd going like crazy. They were so full of energy and were genuinely having a good time. I contrast this with having seen the Brian Jonestown Massacre twice (one of those times was a week ago from today, Sunday). It’s weird, because the Dandies are clearly having a lot of fun and enjoying what they’re doing. Anton’s just really messed up and, while he makes awesome music, he spent a lot of the time staring at the ceiling last time I saw him, looking a bit like he was about to have a stroke/fall down to the floor vomiting and spewing blood everywhere. But the Warhols just enjoy what they do. They have fun. And it really shows, because the crowd gets so into it.

The “frat party” line comes from the band taking the stage and everyone yelling, “ZIAAAAAH!” at the chick in the band, Zia McCabe, who is known for taking her top off at shows. The women were yelling, “You’re beautiful, Zia!” and the guys were yelling, “Take your top off!” It was classy, yes, if you’re wondering. Zia McCabe is a known Suicide Girl, so she’s not afraid of exposing herself! If it was anyone else, we’d call the men misogynistic pigs, but really, you can’t fault them in a situation like this, can you? Okay, wait, you can…

Courtney and the band’s drummer, Brent De Boer (who has a mustache now who makes him look a bit like a ’70s porn star), joked a bit with the audience about the Zia fanaticism and perverted frat boy attitude that was hunting her down. Then they started into their set. They took practically no breaks and they were getting very exhausted towards the end because, well, adjusting to the elevation is hard for many bands! But they had a decent sense of humor and entertained the audience. The one thing that did seem to disappoint that audience was that they did not play the song Everyday Should Be a Holiday. There was also some dissatisfaction with them not playing Good Morning (warning: terrible video which will ruin the song, so just listen to it in the background!). It’s a really nice song and I was bit bummed they didn’t play it. But like I said, they ran through a lot of their classic power pop and semi-psychedelic/shoegaze songs. They played a couple of their more off-beat, goofy songs as well. I’ve never been as into those, but the audience really got into it and when you’re around a lot of people having fun, it’s just fun. (Unless people are half-strangling you or stepping on your feet, the latter of which happened to my sister at the show and the former of which happened to me at a jam band show.) It’s a nice change from seeing the news of people dying and economies crashing everyday. People just enjoying themselves and the company of their significant others and friends while attending a concert is really fun to see. And bands that can bring that out in people are awesome. So on that scale, the Dandy Warhols did an amazing job of bringing people together and making them happy.

But all in all, it was one of the more energetic and band-involved shows I’ve seen. It wasn’t Les Savy Fav, but then it wasn’t like a lot of the indie hipster bands who just play their boring music boringly. Any band that gets the audience interested, involved, and tied into the music they’re playing is doing something right.

I enjoyed the show a lot and if you get the chance to catch them somewhere, it’s worth it.

Some pictures from the show (I never did find an employee to ask about the photography policy…) below! The full album’s link will be below the individual pictures I’m posting!

Look out! Darker My Love!

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

And then here’s the Dandy Warhols:

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

Haha, the ghost fist!

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

And, finally, the poster on the left details the next show I will be attending!

From Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

Full album is here:

Dandy Warhols + Upsidedown + Darker My Love 9/27

I’m thinking I might do a feature where I spotlight a music video I particularly like each week. Gives me something to do. *g*

So, in the interest of launching such an affair, I thought I’d direct attention to Lost Coastlines, the video for the lead single from Okkervil River’s recent The Stand-Ins.

My favorite song on the record and a rather clever little clip. Plus, Will Sheff AND Jon Meiburg. *drool* (Hey, it’s a video… image consciousness is okay.)