On the Road with Kazai Rex

Hey everyone. John, Stacey, Austin and I are in a band called Kazai Rex with our good friend Danny and we’re leaving Friday to spend a few days and play a couple shows in Oregon and northern California. Needless to say, we won’t be posting while we’re gone, so nothing new is going to be up until April 2nd. To see if you’re going to be near any of our shows, go to our website or our myspace—we’d love to see you there. Also, we just self-released our debut EP, “Lester Bangs the Drum”, and if you're interested in getting a copy, you can find more info on either of those pages. As always, thanks for reading. While we’re gone, I’ve compiled some reading material to keep you satisfied.

WELL, HERE YA GO:

Arthur Magazine may be dead and gone, but its final issue was home to one of the most incredible pieces of journalism I’ve ever read. It’s an epic 11,000 words on Joanna Newsom (and her latest album, “Ys”) and has esentially brought me back among the lovers of Newsom after several months of resistance. It may take an hour to read, but I promise you that it’s worth every second. Check it out here.

I dug this one up from the Cokemachine Glow feature archive: Clayton Purdum hating passionately on “My Humps” and giving it the shit-kicking it truly deserves.

Our good friend Dave (from The Rawking Refuses to Stop) spent some time last summer musing on illegal downloading in the digital age and came up with some good thoughts. Read it here.

A couple weeks ago, Paper Stereo’s Austin Bauer did an interview with Dr. Dog’s Scott McMicken for the Daily Bruin to preview their show at the Troubadour (which we posted pictures from on Monday).

The Thursday Night Payola Scam, one of UCLA’s better-known radio shows, compiled a brief list of Japanese bands you should be listening to on their occasionally-updated blog. I heard of half of these bands for the first time and so far have loved them all, so it’s definitely worth checking out. Do so here.

Malachi Ritscher, an American hero who self-immolated to protest the war in Iraq at the end of 2006, posted a sort of mission statement before his death, and it’s very worth reading.

- Dominick Duhamel -

Live: Dr. Dog 3/14/07

Dr. Dog is an incredible live band and anyone who was at their show last Wednesday at the Troubadour will tell you the same thing. I had a great spot relative to the stage and managed to take a bunch of great pictures, so I’ll let them speak for themselves:


Scott McMicken


Toby Leaman




Frank McElroy, who is nineteen feet tall.




Yes, Toby is completely in the air in this shot.


Scott’s multi-dimensional nature emerging for a brief moment.

Download:
Dr. Dog - My Old Ways [mp3]
Dr. Dog - Say Something [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -

Live: Menomena 3/10/07

Menomena’s Saturday night show at the Echo was met with a crowd that did anything but hide its adoration. The three handled their often-tricky material expertly (at one point Justin Harris was playing a bass keyboard with his feet, playing guitar, and singing at the same time) and, with an army of new and excellent songs from “Friend and Foe”, the audience left the show with their love for Menomena growing exponentially.


Damn you redeye, damn you. But check out Justin’s sweet baritone sax.


Brent Knopf looks like he’s nineteen years old. Oh yeah, and he’s a computer programming genius. His vocals on “The Monkey’s Back” during the encore were haunting and incredible—easily the highlight of the night.


Danny Seim is eight feet tall. And treats the drums accordingly.



Download:
Menomena - The Pelican [mp3]
Menomena - The Monkey’s Back [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -

Live: The Parson Red Heads 3/10/07

Last Saturday at the Echo, Menomena couldn’t have asked for a better opening act. Drawing most their songs from their debut full-length, the excellent “King Giraffe” (which came out a couple weeks ago), the Parson Red Heads’ eight-song set was one of the more joyful concert experiences I’ve had in a long time. The band, whose members performed clothed in white (tinged with red), knows that there’s power in numbers: with a total of ten musicians onstage, their sunny sixties psych rock was not only being played to but shared with the audience, whose members willingly gave themselves over to the Parson Red Heads’ sense of family, community, and wonderful musicianship. It was a show that felt full of love in more ways than one, an aesthetic that, in retrospect, makes a lot of other live bands feel distant and cold. This band is something special and, along with Bodies of Water, they deserve the attention of the Los Angeles music scene more than any other group right now.


The Parson Red Heads’ frontman and chief songwriter, Evan Way. He can’t be taller than five foot nine, but you’d never know it from the quiet confidence he exudes.


Jason Wrightman, Erin Way, and Aaron Ballard. I swear that, between Jason and Erin, there has never been such whole-hearted tambourine-slapping in a live performance. Ever.


Dane Garrard and Evan Way. GUITAR SOLO.


Aaron Ballard playing harmonica (which goes nicely with his vest-bandana ensemble).



Download:
The Parson Red Heads - Punctual As Usual [mp3]
The Parson Red Heads - Full Moon [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -

Live: Sebadoh 3/9/07

It’s the last week of school before finals for me (and the other UCLA writers) so, barring the (slim) possibility of another writer turning something in, we’re going to be posting nothing but concert photos through next Monday. To kick it off, here are some photos from SEBADOH! JASON, LOU, AND ERIC! THREE GUYS WHO THINK IT’S MUCH MORE IMPORTANT IF THE MUSIC IS HEARTFELT RATHER THAN IF THE MUSIC SOUNDS LIKE SHIT OR NOT!


Ajay Saggar, the Liam Gallagher-imitating singer and bassist of The Bent Moustache, an endlessly entertaining live band from the Netherlands (they sound sorta like Art Brut with more energy but less direction) that opened for Sebadoh.


Lou Barlow’s such a badass. And he totally knows it. His best line of the night: “I like the key of D sharp. It’s low enough to be scary but high enough to be happy. Kinda like Sebadoh.”


Eric Gaffney, back with Sebadoh for the first time in fourteen years.


Jason Loewenstein (after finishing the coolest version of Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” I’ve ever heard, complete with Lou screaming mindlessly): “No more covers!”


Lou (to Eric): “Jason says no more covers!”



Download:
Sebadoh - The Freed Pig [mp3]
Sebadoh - As the World Dies, the Eyes of God Grow Bigger [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -

Track Review: Deerhoof

“Believe E.S.P.”
from “Friend Opportunity”
8/10

The word “groove” is thrown around pretty carelessly these days. I’m not sure when every crackerjack asshole with a pair of drumsticks in his hand and a passable internal metronome became a commander of grooves, but it has to stop. The word “beat” is much more appropriate—a beat is something you can write down on paper, something you can program into a drum machine, can keep time to. A groove is a whole different animal—it’s got soul, it communicates, it harnesses and releases energy like no other beat can.

But in a time that society as a whole can rarely distinguish the soul from the soulless and the passionate from the carefully crafted, the notion of groove is being abused. It is this bleak, dying image of the hip-shaking world that Deerhoof (and its drummer, Greg Saunier) has come to save with little more than a song three minutes seven seconds in length and the most infectious cowbell this side of “Don’t Fear the Reaper”.

But while the Blue Oyster Cult classic tune required an obnoxious Will Ferrel to get itself in the heads of its viewers, Deerhoof lets it speak for itself. Let me talk about this groove a little bit more. If you were somehow transported to a strange and distant world where the barely-humanoid creatures were ruthless and man-eating but also somewhat rhythmically challenged, your only chance of escape would be to whip out your copy of “Friend Opportunity” (which, of course, you have on your body at all times for a situation just like this, even though your friends tell you you’re a dumbass and draw obscene things on your face at night simply because you’re such a heavy sleeper), find a giant stereo (which may or may not exist on a planet of rhythmically-challenged aggressive alien beings), blast “Believe E.S.P. at full volume, and smell the horrible stench their sulfur-based bodies exude as they melt in the glorious but debilitating groove to end all grooves. It would be kind of like that scene in the Mario Brothers movie where Mario and Luigi are in the elevator about to get captured by the goombas but neutralize them with a song that makes them bob their heads uselessly. Which is also probably the only scene of that movie that’s worth any of your time.

Greg Saunier and Deerhoof: using incredible grooves to save wayward interdimensional travelers from death since 2007.

(Also, the rest of this song is pretty awesome, especially Satomi’s verse melody and the fragmented instrument breakdown toward the end. Just so you know.)

Download:
Deerhoof - Believe E.S.P. [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -

Track Review: Boris & Michio Kurihara

A quick sidenote: If you haven't noticed already, I added a couple new features to the sidebar. The first is an archive of all the concert photos we've posted thus far, and the second (below "Links") is a list of notable upcoming concerts in Los Angeles, which will be updated every week, if all goes according to plan.


“Rainbow”
from “Rainbow”
9/10

The last year’s been good to Boris. Not only did they release “Pink”, their most accessible and critically well-received album to date, in America but they also had the opportunity to cut an album of gloriously dark sludge metal with Sunn0))). They’ve been working at a breakneck pace and, judging by their new album with Michio Kurihara, they’re not going to let up.

For those of you who’ve gotten a bit sick of Boris’ often high-intensity listens, this album is just what the doctor ordered. Kurihara’s brand of mellow psychedelia not only complements Boris’ style, but builds a whole new world for it: a hazy, dream of a world loaded with nearly as much atmosphere as quiet charm. Even the louder, more aggressive Boris-style tracks benefit from this approach: the songs feel less like you’re being punched in the face and more like you’re trying to do karate underwater.

“Rainbow” is among the slower songs on the album, but easily one of the best. The verses are simple, relying on a static beat, sparing plucks of an electric guitar, and a slinking bass line—I would say, coupled with Wata’s quiet, slithering vocals, that the verses are borderline lounge rock (though it goes without saying that it’d probably be the best lounge rock ever). But then 2:10 happens.

The juxtaposition that occurs over the next minute and a half is incredible. Kurihara takes a guitar solo that is, quite literally, perfect. His guitar tone is incredible: treble-boosted, trembling, and dirty as hell—it would almost sound fragile, if not for the confidence with which every note is attacked. Every note sounds as if it’s barely in Kurihara’s control, making the whole solo a series of suspenseful moments, waiting for the guitar to implode in on itself, to self-destruct.

In placing this bête sauvage of a solo beside Wata’s introspective vocal delivery, its effect is stunning. The first two minutes of the song is equivalent to standing on chaos’ edge, looking inward and reflecting, before plunging into a sea of turmoil and doubt, only to come out the other side a minute and a half later. Its as vibrant as an inward journey can be when communicated through music in another language. That a song in Japanese can hold its own emotionally, even next to songs in English with intimate and understandable lyrics, is incredible, and a perfect example of the astounding affect that can spring when a group like Boris works relentlessly to expand its musical palette.

Download:
Boris & Michio Kurihara - Rainbow [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -

Live: Bodies of Water 3/2/07

I’ve posted about Bodies of Water once before, when I took fancy to a song they posted on their website, but Friday night at the Echo, my fancy blossomed into obsession. There weren’t a ton of people there—I counted sixty, maybe seventy tops—but they still performed like they were in a sold out arena, bellowing every note at the top of their lungs with a passion too omnipresent to be anything but totally sincere. As fantastic as their music is on album, it is not until you hear it live that it really starts to take shape, that its dynamic, four-part vocal arrangements transcend the traditional performer-audience bounds and become a part of the mass consciousness, not only by their visible fervor but by the loving, beating heart that resides behind it. Check out their website for more info, as well as some cool pictures and designs. You can also can buy their three-song EP from Insound. No doubt you’ll hear about these guys from me again but, for now, live photos:


The Spires were, a pretty decent, if not a little boring, opening band. They sound like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah would if they were a garage-rock duo.


Bodies of Water’s Meredith Metcalf, probably the most devastatingly charming stage presence I’ve ever seen. And a hell of a good singer on top of that.


David and Meredith, husband and wife as well as Bodies of Water’s lead singers.


Awesome moment, shitty picture. David pounds the shit out of a xylophone.


Kyle Gladden: rocking both the tambourine and early signs of a mullet.





Download:
Bodies of Water - These Are The Eyes [mp3]
Bodies of Water - Doves Circle The Sky [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -

Album Review: Beach House

I know it’s a little late to be blogging about these guys, but I wrote this review a few months ago and, in a bit of confusion that ensued with one of my other journalism endeavors, I lost track of it. Fortunately, I was able to recover it after losing my hard drive. The more important thing, though, is that Beach House put out a fantastic album, and it deserves to be blogged about, even if it’s a bit late.


“Beach House”
Carpark; 2006
8/10

A beach house is a sanctuary, a sort of anomaly that takes the priorities of everyday life and turns them inside out. There’s no place for paperwork in a beach house, no rush to get the kids to soccer practice, no pressure to get out of bed before noon—these are sins in the Land of Eternal Coastline, replaced by airborne kites, late lunches, and reclined, plastic lounge chairs as virtues. Alex Scally and Victoria Legrand understand the reason behind this flip-flopping of modern conventions. They understand that, for the urban-bound, bustling population of America, beach houses are a symbol of hope: a necessary antithesis to the anxiety and rigors of 21st century man.

That the Baltimore-based duo calls itself “Beach House” is no accident. Scally and Legrand furnish their house comfortably, but sparingly; the stay is pleasant, but the eventuality of departing is never far from thought. There’s little variation among the songs themselves—the organ is the substance, the guitar the subtlety, the drums a lazy metronome, the vocals slow and spacious—but this acts simultaneously as both strength and weakness, creating an environment that’s easy to get lost in but all the more startling when its over. Legrand manages to penetrate the haze only twice, first in the jubilant chorus of “Master of None” and later in the haunting final seconds of “House on the Hill”, but even what’s memorable is ultimately eclipsed by a lingering, elusive familiarity. Even perceptions are altered, simplified into free-forming imagery (“Warming her eyes to the seas / hardly her way to be free / auburn and ivory / heartbreak and ponytails”) and instinctive emotional reaction (“Let’s lie down for a while / you can smile / lay your head in the arm / old-fashioned”).

What separates Beach House from other their two-piece, hippie-psych contemporaries (a category that really only includes Brightblack Morning Light) is not their ability to craft a song, but to let the song grow organically from the hands of its authors. The tracks on “Beach House” lack the architectural precision of BBM’s “Everybody Daylight” and “Star Blanket River Child”, but offer instead the charms of imperfection, embracing the quirks and mistakes that naturally result from human error. Scally and Legrand are not afraid to lose their fingering, start a verse late, or work in paper-thin guitar tones. It’s not perfect because it doesn't have to be, and the confidence with which they accept their own shortcomings serves not only to redeem, but to compliment.

If Scally and Legrand didn’t deliver last year’s best debut, they certainly delivered its most beautifully realized; “Beach House” is occasionally stirring and always convincing, a snapshot of the Land of Eternal Coastline destined for photo albums and picture frames. If there’s any flaw to be found, it’s a flaw inherent to a beach house: it works best as an exception to contemporary hustle and bustle rather as a rule itself and, accordingly, there’s a specific time and place for it.

Download:
Beach House - Master of None [mp3]
Beach House - Auburn and Ivory [mp3]

- Dominick Duhamel -