Three is a Lot More Than Two

Here are three songs I'm playing and liking a lot lately:

“You’ll Find A Way” by Santogold – It’s probably the kiss of death to compare Santi (Santogold) White to Sri Lankan globetrotting, genre bending M.I.A., but consider Santi’s self-titled debut smooched. Mixing elements of New Age pop, ska and reggae roots, hip-hop beats and cold, empty vocals, Santogold isn’t quite on par with Kala, M.I.A.’s 2007 masterpiece. But that doesn’t stop the Philly native from putting together songs with more range and focused energy than anything appearing on Kala or Arular. If the comparisons are inevitable, it’s a good thing; these girls make fun, flippant music best suited to bang, rattle and thump.

"Go Places” by The New Pornographers – Buried in the brilliance of Challengers, “Go Places” is indie bliss built on strings, piano crescendos and the sweet lilt of Neko Case, a seriously funky, badass lady-person. Case breathes life into church-picnic lyrics about running away in the name of love while the Pornographers flex their musical muscle and continue to showcase the creative depth that’s sustained the band since 1997. Come for the band name, stay for the sprawling indie rock.

"Barnacle Goose" by the Born Ruffians - The Ruffians sound like a college math band! A bunch of their songs feature the banjo! I shouldn't have to write anything else.

Waiter, There's a Coffee in My CD

Guessssss what?

Starbucks is handing over the day-to-day management of its newly formed music label, Hear Music.

I, for one, am disappointed.

I mean, as a fan of faceless corporate monopolies, what am I supposed to think?

That independently owned and mid-market organizations have a chance to push product? That the sterilized, genetically enhanced business model doesn't have a place in the world?

Geez, next they'll try to tell you the Tooth Fairy is gay.

This is terrible though. Without Starbucks, who is going to give Paul McCartney, James Taylor and Joni Mitchell huge payola payoffs?

It's a lot tougher than it sounds! I heard that one of the key components to the McCartney deal was that Starbucks would allow Sir Paul to create his own drink.

"Beatle Juice."



I'm a terrible person. I will probably be sued.

We Both Have Red Hair... We Both Like Music...

I was in Philly last weekend at the Trocadero to see the magical Kate Nash.

The Troc is a weird place.

Old people would sort of look around and talk about the majesty of the building, the gothic architecture, the dreamy, atmospheric vibe translated through the dimmed lighting, fake candles, balconies and drapes.

I thought it was kind of creepy. And shit kept falling from the ceiling, looked like flakes of asbestos. The area in front of the stage is round (strange), with support beams for an overhanging balcony towards the back.

And the swanky, suggestive lighting... I felt like such a piece of meat.

Anyway, The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players opened up for Ms. Nash.

I consider myself a fairly open-minded guy. But I have no idea what the hell is wrong with the Trachtenburg Family.

The band is made up of three non-related members playing the parts of a family. The drummer is a 14-year-old girl named Rachel. The "mother" operates a slideshow while "daddy" plays guitar and keyboard.

The band takes photo albums from the 1960s, '70s, and writes songs based on these pictures of random strangers. Then, while playing live, the slideshow matches up with the lyrics in the song.

And the lyrics are quite literal. If we see a picture of a fish, we're hearing a fish lyric.

I have no idea what the hell is wrong with the Trachtenburg Family.

I guess this is art, right? Like, if I ever wanted to look smart in front of someone, a future employer, a scientist, a foreign dignitary, I absolutely plan on casually mentioning I listen to the Trachtenburg Family.

And then I casually plan on accepting their kudos.

Here's "Look at Me" by The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players and "Pigeons" by the girl-wonder drummer, Rachel T.

Now, on to the main course.

Ms. Nash was divatastic.

With her name backlit in shiny, pink plastic bulbs, Ms. Nash made the crowd wait upward of 45 minutes while one single, solitary, lone, individual tech tuned the instruments.

All of the instruments.

I have been to a ton of shows and I've never seen anything like this. This dude tested everything. He tuned four guitars, a bass, the drums, all of the respective mics. He sound checked the piano, used a giant pole with a hook on the end to mess with the lights.

He didn't hustle. Or ask for help.

And I totally imagined Ms. Nash in the wings watching him with a bottle of champagne and a fur coat made out of dalmatians like "Work is so hard."

But enough of that! "Stop in the Name of Love" by Diana Ross and the Supremes finally coaxed Ms. Nash from hiding.

She's cute. And pretty. I was in love.

Ms. Nash toured most of her cross-the-pond hit, Made of Bricks. Fan favorites "Foundations" and "Mouthwash" sounded inspired, bubbly and fully realized, with Ms. Nash banging away at her piano and bouncing to the beat.

The jazzy, spoken-word smacktalk of "Dickhead" was dedicated to the random ex-boyfriend of a drunk girl near the front of the stage.

"Mariella" swelled from march to madness as the crowd, composed mostly of couples (date movie meet date music) surged to the name-based chorus.

I especially enjoyed some of the evening's more poignant moments. "Nicest Thing" and "Birds" sounded gorgeous, with Ms. Nash front and center on acoustic guitar, vulnerable to ghosts and should have/could have love.

Made of Bricks is very much a showing of range. "Pumpkin Soup" and "Merry Happy" had the Troc bumping right along.

"We Get On" is a whole different get on. Ms. Nash asked us a couple of times during the night to quiet ourselves while she strummed the opening chords of a soft song.

It didn't feel like a diva thing to do. It was just really nice.

Minus the Bear For All!

Last week I saw Minus the Bear and Portugal. The Man at the Fillmore at the TLA in Philly.

Moose kicked things off.

No, that’s not right, I’m sorry. It was Caribou.

Or Reindeer?

I knew I should have taken notes at the show. It was Camel. My fault.

Check that. Elk (stupid band without a website).

See, to me, that’s funny. If I wasn’t bound by a journalistic code of ethics, I’d probably post a zoo’s worth of animal links and call it a blog.

But alas, to the business at hand: Portugal.The Man commandeered the TLA for a 45 minute brain-punch.

I can’t write much about Portugal without inducing nuclear fission on my keyboard.

I can’t write much about Portugal without feeling an overwhelming compulsion to make up words like “explositivity”, “rockamungus”, and “resickulous".

See? My fingers are already starting to melt a little bit. I need to stop while the stopping’s still good. Download "Waiter: You Vultures!" and Church Mouth and leave my sense of touch alone.

As for MTB, the boys by way of Seattle opened with "Knights" and kept the good vibes rolling. Focused and tight live, MTB busted out slow burners like "Dr. L'Ling" and "This Ain't A Surfin' Movie", backed by party musts "Pachuca Sunrise" and "The Fix".

MTB ran deep early and often, pulling gems from 2004's They Make Beer Commercials Like This and 2002's Highly Refined Pirates.

The real star of the night, however, was Planet of Ice, the band's monster 2007 release that has pushed them in the direction of indie stardom.

"Double Vision Quest", "Burying Luck", "White Monster", and "Throwin' Shapes" all made appearances and all sounded masterful.

Now, I took some videos at the show…

And I admit it! They’re shit!

But quality isn’t everything, right?

Heck, remember Ted Koppel bouncing around on a tank during the invasion of Iraq in 2003? ABC had to staple the wig to his head, wrinkles were flapping in the desert winds and the camera was upside down.

Not exactly aesthetically pleasing, but Koppel was in Iraq, goddamn it, getting the scoop.

It’s journalism, man!

Actually, it’s a couple of kids with big fat heads rocking back and forth in front of my camera.

And I’m not kidding. One of these dudes had an Al Borland-size head. For reals.

Anyway, here's "Devil Song" by Portugal and "White Mystery" by MTB.

Now try not to seizure all over my blog, please.

Let's Mix It On Up

I don’t dance.

I shuffle.

“Blood Beats” by Moving Units – I’m very cultured.

“Leave You Alone” by Cam’ron – I’m not very cultured.

“Dancing Shoes” by Arctic Monkeys – This song makes me want to lean against the wall of the gym and whisper about the girls on the other side of the gym leaning against the wall over there. I was a lonely child.

“Crystal Baller” by Third Eye Blind – I can’t believe I’ve had a blog about music this long and I haven’t talked about TEB. Fact: I got my picture taken with Stephan Jenkins and I immediately declared it would be my Facebook picture for a year. Another fact: I’m a man of my goddamn word.

“Climbing” by Persephone’s Bees – I love French things.

“Anna Molly” by Incubus – Every year for Christmas my mom buys stocking stuffers. Socks, body spray, I got a Dragon Ball Z nightlight one year. And once I got Light Grenades.

“Breakdown” by Jack Johnson – I just finished my resume recently. I’m sending copies to papers in Hawaii.

“One Great City!” by The Weakerthans – This is exactly how I feel about the town I grew up in.

“Those Who Don’t Blink” by Enon – This song feels like an aneurism.

“Test Pattern” by The Thermals – A slow jam from a peanutbutterjelly band.

Well, I sure approve.

Oh! Conversations!

It’s time I got a little down and dirty.

I grilled the owner of a record store in Philadelphia. He was pretty candid, sort of didn’t want me to mention his name, although I doubt anyone is actually going to read this.

But I’ll be a good little Woodward nonetheless and protect my source!

I can say that he owns a record shop in the greater South Street area, the yuppie, faux porn-center of the city.

Now onward.

First off, how’s business?

Business is bad. People aren’t buying music anymore, at least not the way they used to be. I’m pretty much a laptop and a heap of ambition away from starting my own iTunes.

Wow. Is music going in a bad direction?

I don’t know if it’s the music. I mean, I hear people all the time bitching about there not being any more good bands around. That’s bullshit. I love a lot of the new music that’s being made, I just don’t like dropping 15 bucks for a CD anymore. I think we’re all just spoiled. It’s become so easy to cough up 99 cents, or whatever they’re charging now, that the concept of buying an album, priced at more than ten dollars seems insane.

Is the digital single killing the music industry?

Ha, I don’t know about killing. How about beating violently? Think of it this way: the album is more than just a nifty collection of songs slapped together by an artist. Those songs are ordered a certain way, they’re picked for certain reasons. You download one song, two songs by an artist, you’re not getting the full vision. It’s just lazy listening, really.

I know that it’s been hard on the major retailers, the Best Buys and Targets, but what’s the climate like for the independents?

I have my customers, you know what I’m saying? I have the people that are coming in to look for some obscure shit they can’t find at the local Wal-mart, which is why I can survive in this business. Let’s face it, I’m a niche. But that’s cool, stores like mine have always been on the outside looking in, and that’s the way I like it. I’d love to sell a million fucking copies of John Mayer or whatever, but that doesn’t always work out.

What are the big bands going right now?

Honestly, just check out the college radio charts and you can get a good feel for what my customers are buying. Radiohead has been a smash, even though they moved so many copies (of In Rainbows) online. Vampire Weekend is hard to keep on the shelves. Stuff like that.

Is your store around in 10 years?

God, I hope so... Otherwise, I'd be in a bit of a jam. Really though, yeah, I can't imagine the music industry without stores like this. We're very much a part of the equation.

I mentioned that I was in Philly to catch Minus the Bear and Portugal. The Man.

Well I was!

My concert review is pending. I'm having trouble working with some of the videos I took at the show. As I am mildly stupid.

In the meantime, MTB:

I think I found out about these guys by randomly browsing through my favorite CD store, Repo Records, in Philly.

When I get a little disposable income I go to CD stores and sort of walk up and down each aisle, sort of waiting for something to catch my eye. I've gotten pretty decent at it.

Anyway, MTB are one of my top, mainstay bands at the moment.

This is the kind of music that makes the most sense when I'm going home for the weekend and I'm driving around just sort of thinking. It's profoundly emotive stuff, storytelling music at its most potent.

Songs like "Double Vision Quest", "Knights", "The Fix", "Pachuca Sunrise", the entire Highly Refined Pirates full-length, are all poignant, captivating strolls through fading love, regret, drunk happiness, all held together by memories and lingering ideas.

Roll on it, for goodness sakes.

Our Babies Will Look Hot

I’m going to see Kate Nash at the Trocadero next Saturday night!

I’m super excited. Ms. Nash is from England. She plays the piano and she is quite fiery.

Her claim to fame is “Foundations” off her solo debut, Made of Bricks. Ms. Nash makes disarmingly sweet music that touches on broken love and dickhead boyfriends.

I’ll try to get some video from the show. Hopefully it will be better than the stuff I’ll be posting about my most recent venture into Philly to see Minus the Bear and Portugal. The Man.

But more on that later...

Three is a Lot More Than Two

Here are three songs I'm playing and liking a lot lately:

“Shoulders & Arms” by Tokyo Police Club – TPC aren’t from Tokyo, don’t carry handcuffs and won’t be accepting any membership applications. I was disappointed, too. But songs like “Shoulders & Arms” off the band’s 2006 EP, A Lesson In Crime, are always sure to cheer me up; TPC makes smart, choppy, assault rifle rock music riddled with jagged yelps, jangly guitar and battered high-hat. Clocking in at just a little over two and a half minutes long, the tracks on A Lesson In Crime are the perfect marriage of punk rock sensibility and East Village know-how.

“Radio” by Saves The Day – The boys of STD have been dumped by a ton of girls. “Radio” has Wladimir Klitschko hooks and sounds like it’s been sung entirely though the nose of Chris Conley, but there’s a total guilty pleasure thing going on here. Bouncy, whiny, backed by buzzing guitars, when I listen to STD I’m checking over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone. And I’m loving it.

“Hussel” by M.I.A. Featuring Afrikan Boy – I’ve been listening to enough rap and hip-hop to know that M.I.A. is pretty much the realness. This is less is more, minimalist beat shit flavored with African dance drums, tribal coos and the third world bars of Afrikan Boy, a street-hardened rapper by way of Nigeria. “You think it’s tough now? Come to Africa” Boy admonishes while M.I.A. takes phone calls from her good friend Habeebi and preaches on the West’s obsession with material possessions. Biting, indeed.

Album Spotlight: Rx Bandits

When I type “Rx Bandits” into my search engine of choice and I read the 1.5 sentence description of the band tagged to the Bandits’ site, I’m a little surprised.

“Orange County ska band with tour dates, photos, bio, press, and more…”

I’d rewrite that.

“Orange County Prophetic Zen Travelers charged with global salvation.”

Something like that.

Yes, it’s true, the Rx Bandits are from Orange County. But let’s stop there, because not much else can be said about this fivesome that fits in a two-sentence nutgraph.

The Bandits are a band the way bands were meant to be made. Aggressive and heady on their 1999 debut Halfway Between Here and There, soulful and stoned for 2001’s Progress.

2003’s Resignation was a fifty-minute tumble-dry roll rife with sexual wails, political backbone and societal condemnation.

All setting the stage for the Bandit’s masterpiece, …And the Battle Begun, an album that needs to be appreciated as a transition and a general movement in the direction of greatness.

Dropped in 2006 on the label started by guitarist/vocalist Matthew Embree, Mash Down Babylon (MDB Records), …And the Battle Begun is what I imagine John Coltrane and Bill Dixon would have sounded like if they knew how to rock.

Battle was patched together by live in-studio sessions and it shows; the Bandits are thrilling live, a viral emulsion of oh-oh callbacks and frantic, punched-out moshpits, cut with clean musicianship and overwhelming urgency.

I’ve seen them live five times in the past ten years and I leave every show thinking, yes, that’s what a concert should feel like.

And this is what an album should feel like. A sequential happening, each track considered and weighed, melding together to write a story of addiction, blind hope, false bravado and the collective middle finger.

The album opens with “Untitled”, an a cappella lyrical chant, Embree whispering “It’s over/I must have seen her face before,” as much a declaration of love lost as a warning that the shit is about to hit the fan.

“…And the Battle Begun” sets the tone for the rest of what’s to come: frenetic progressive rock with dramatic highs and lows, tempo shifts and mystical, lyrical exploration.

Embree pens many a tune for the downtrodden and the looked-over, and they’re all here on tracks like “One Million Miles An Hour, Fast Asleep” and “Epoxi-Lips,” songs teeming with verve, bubbling over into anarchic collapse.

"To Our Unborn Daughters” is a trembling, fleshy expose of gender inequality. Embree intones “Don’t you ever be afraid of all of your beauty/You can move without his words” in a cry to feminine arms.

For the lovers, there’s “Apparition,” a smoky, jazz-laden dip into reggae-flavored chill.

For the haters, there’s plenty.

The Bandits lean heavily on the foundations of insurgence and societal upheaval sown of Resignation.

“The past will die before the future’s born” moans Embree on “Crushing Destroyer.”

Please, more future.