Showing posts with label Beirut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beirut. Show all posts

Friday, September 25, 2015

September 2015 reviews


Highly recommended this month: Couer de Pirate, Lianne La Havas, Robyn & La Bagatelle Magique


Well worth your while: Battles, Tami Neilsen, Peaches, Telekinesis


Also reviewed: Beirut, Concealer, Carly Rae Jepsen, Katie Moore, Yo La Tengo


Reviewed earlier: The Weeknd


As always, the following reviews ran in September in the Waterloo Record.



Battles – La Di Da Di (Warp)


When Battles made their full-length debut back in 2007, they were the rare prog rock band you could dance to, the rare rock band that successfully incorporated innovative electronics, the rare band whose superior technical skill is matched by their ability to engage and form cohesion from chaos. That album also came out at the height of the George W. Bush era, and more than any actual protest music seemed to embody the infuriating zeitgeist.


Eight years later, La Di Da Di is just as effective. In between there was a transition album where they coped with losing an intergral founding member, but here the trio come out swinging—through trippy time signatures, of course, with the monstrous drumming of John Stanier (Helmet, Tomahawk) holding down the kit. Guitarist Ian Williams and bassist Dave Konopka rarely conjure any sounds their instruments are supposed to. Together, it sounds a bit like a heavy metal drummer playing Afrobeat while an Indonesian gamelan band wrestle with a German electronic group on top of him—less entertaining, perhaps, but a fascinating flurry of sound, rhythm and melody that functions far better than you might expect.


These Battles are not lost. (Sept. 17)


Battles play Lee’s Palace on Oct. 1



Download: “FF Bada,” “Summer Simmer,” “Tricentennial”



Beirut – No No No (XL)


Zach Condon is a happier man, and it sounds like it. He’s been making music professional since his late teens, when his debut, 2006’s Gulag Orkestar, became an unlikely underground hit, marrying Eastern European brass melodies to plaintive ukulele folk songs. Ten years down the road, he’s been divorced, collapsed on the road from exhaustion, and about a year decided his creative well had run dry.


Thankfully, that’s not the end of the story. With the help of his bandmates, he started to take himself less seriously and lighten up, and his fifth album is more upbeat, hopeful and playful than anything he’s ever done. There’s more electric piano than accordion, more—wait for it—funk in the backbeat, and rich vocal harmonies backing up Condon’s sad-sack croon. (Sept. 24)


Beirut play the Danforth Music Hall in Toronto on Nov. 13.



Download: “Gibraltar,” “No No No,” “Perth”



Coeur de Pirate – Roses (Dare to Care)


Beatrice Martin is related to neither Swedish hitmaker Max Martin Coldplay’s Chris Martin. But Beatrice, a.k.a. Coeur de Pirate, has just made an album full of songs that those men would kill to have in their own repertoire. The Quebecois artist has sold a million records in her own province and France, and is the only Francophone artist in recent memory to attract any significant notice in English Canada (she sold out Massey Hall in Toronto last year). Now, with her first album of original music featuring songs in English—seven of 10 here—Coeur de Pirate is poised for a major crossover.


Approximately 95 per cent of what you read every week in this column is the entirely subjective opinion of some guy who’s had a pathological addiction to new music for 35 years. But this is an objective fact: Roses is packed with future hits.


Martin is all of 25 years old, but writes like she’s studied Brill Building and Broadway and pop masters for decades. Everything here sounds enormous, Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound updated for 21st-century fireworks displays. Traces of modern R&B form the rhythm tracks, where Martin nods to her love of The Weeknd (she once covered his “Wicked Game”) and Rihanna (replicating the “Umbrella” beat on “I Don’t Want to Break Your Heart”). Meanwhile, tracks like “Undone” are the kind of stadium pop that Bono has been trying to chase for the last 20 years, the kind that Katy Perry might make if her songs weren’t stuffed with sonic steroids. Even the sparse ballads (“Oceans Brawl,” “Cast Away,” “Tu oublieras mon nom”) boast melodies meant to be sung by thousands in unison.


For many of my favourite Quebecois artists, I can usually understand that their music itself, not just the language, sounds slightly foreign to English Canadians. That’s no excuse this time. (Sept. 3)



Couer de Pirate play the Phoenix in Toronto on Oct. 7.


Download: “Carry On,” “I Don’t Want to Break Your Heart,” “Drapeau blanc”



Concealer - Feted: fetid (Coax)


Cowboy goth? Sure, why not. Edmonton’s Mark Davis and MissMannered call their new project “heavy wave.” Davis comes from a country rock background, having spent the better part of a decade in acclaimed roots band Old Reliable, and with three most excellent solo albums under his belt, all of them as melodic as they are morose. That tone continues here, but synth player Missmannered (Sean Picard) amps up the atmosphere, until it sounds like Townes Van Zandt being produced by the Jesus and Mary Chain.


The duo behind Concealer admit they’re an odd couple. As Davis told the Calgary Herald, “I’m the older, stoic, stay-at-home roots-rock guy, and Sean is more of a young, flamboyant, gay socialite DJ/makeup artist.” But that’s only in person. What we hear here is an entirely natural synthesis, one that finally takes Davis out of the alt-country ghetto where he’s been pigeonholed.


Concealer’s only real fault is that the sonic palette is limited: Davis plays mainly bass and drum machine, Missmannered plays synths, and the tone is—shall we say—consistent, and rather dreary. Davis’s melodies carry the day, however, as they always do. It’s exciting to hear him trying on different clothes, but I hope he throws them in the laundry once in a while. (Sept. 24)



Download: “Horns and Crown,” “Your Master’s Wishes,” “Throw Me to the Lions”



Carly Rae Jepsen – E.MO.TION (Universal)


Guilt free! That’s what Carly Rae Jepsen offers fans of bubblegum who find Katy Perry too tacky, Taylor Swift too cloying. Jepsen scored a massive hit a few years back with “Call Me Maybe,” and here the 30-year-old B.C. singer is out to prove that she has staying power. She most certainly does: there’s at least four or five songs here likely to linger around the charts for the next year, with the help of collaborators Sia, Vampire Weekend, and the producers behind Haim, Solange Knowles and, yes, Katy Perry and Taylor Swift. It’s a sugar rush, and it’s a good one. But the new Robyn EP that dropped last month is a much better bet. (Sept. 10)


Download: “E.MO.TION,” “Run Away With Me,” “Gimmie Love”



Lianne La Havas – Blood (Warner)



“Unstoppable”? You bet. That’s the name of the lead single from this British singer’s second album, produced with predictable class and bombast by Paul Epworth (Adele, Florence and the Machine, U2). On it, she rides a slinky, seductive groove while harps and strings swirl around her and she unleashes her unbelievable voice, a set of pipes that wows everyone within earshot.




This 25-year-old has made a modern R&B record that’s completely out of step: she’s not retro enough to be lumped in with Leon Bridges or Sharon Jones; she’s not weird enough to join Miguel and The Weeknd. Her music is as slick as Sade and delicate as Feist’s Let It Die, but she can belt it out Broadway-style, like Janelle Monae.


Most important, she’s (almost) as fantastic a songwriter as she is a singer. That title track could be the next great James Bond theme (for which Sam Smith has been tapped instead, alas), while the ballad “Wonderful” is one of the most sensual songs in recent memory (“electricity lingers in our fingers”). Mary J. Blige should be covering “Grow” on her next album. R&B and ornamental pop songs are balanced by songs based around just her guitar, while “Never Get Enough” alternates between verses with acoustic guitar playing bossa nova, and heavy choruses rich with distorted vocals and industrial synths.


Is there anything this woman can’t do? No wonder Prince is such a huge and vocal fan. Soon you will be, too. (Sept. 17)


Lianne La Havas plays the Danforth Music Hall in Toronto on Oct. 2.



Download: “Unstoppable,” “Tokyo,” “Wonderful”



Katie Moore – Fooled by the Fun (Club Roll)


Outside of Montreal, where she’s been a musical MVP for a decade now, few people know Katie Moore unless they’ve seen her sing with Socalled’s raucous live show, always go to Pop Montreal every September, are acutely tuned into that city’s roots scene, or closely follow Patrick Watson, Plants and Animals, or the Barr Brothers. To be fair, her heartbreaking voice has always been better than any record on which she’s put her own name—until now.


Fooled by the Fun was recorded live in a studio, and an all-star cast of Montreal musicians—including Socalled on electric piano, which casts a warm and earthy early ’70s vibe over the whole affair—bring the best game to Moore’s songs, which have improved so much over the years that a Tracy Chapman classic (“Baby Can I Hold You”) fits in seamlessly with the original material. Moore’s voice is still the primary selling point, however, a perfect balance of humility and confidence, not unlike Emmylou Harris. Montreal may be a big city, but it’s not big enough to contain a voice like Moore’s. (Sept. 3)



Download: “Talked All Night,” “Leaving,” “Find You Near”



Tami Neilson – Dynamite! (Outside)


The hottest country artist from New Zealand is Canadian. Tami Neilson grew up playing in her family band—that would be the Neilsons—in Canada in the 1990s, before moving to New Zealand to start her adult career. There, she’s won no fewer than five nods for Country Album of the Year at that nation’s equivalent of the Junos or Grammys, among other laurels. This, however, is the first time one of her solo records is getting a Canadian release. It couldn’t possibly be a better introduction.


Nielsen is a throwback; everything here is steeped in ’50s rockabilly and Nashville, and she’s got it down pat: the bare-bones production, the ace band, and a showstopper of a voice that could fill any room without a microphone. Her lyrics might be well-worn tropes—songs about a heart the size of Texas and lipstick on your collar—but the melodies, arrangements, and especially her vocals are all fantastic.


Let’s hope for a 2016 summer tour with Lindi Ortega, to see two of this country’s best belters duke it out. (Sept. 17)



Download: “Walk (Back to Your Arms),” “Dynamite,” “Running to You”



Peaches – Rub (XL)


When this provocative performer debuted with The Teaches of Peaches in 2000, it was a fascinating feminist art project dressed up in a libidinous electro sheen. Yet everything about it seemed destined to be dated: the minimalist production, the songs consisting of little more than one-joke catchphrases, the fact that it arrived in the midst of the short-lived electroclash movement.


And yet: 15 years later, The Teaches of Peaches has just been nominated in the 2000s category for the Polaris Heritage Prize; it remains beloved and respected and influential. That same week, Peaches released this, her fifth album, which proves—six years after her last album, I Feel Cream—that she’s still more than relevant, still pushing herself, still pushing buttons. And still, of course, NSFW.



She’s still tossing off silly jokes like “Dick in the Air” and “Vaginoplasty” (“Catch the whiff coming off my midriff!”), but she also turns up the heat on the title track (“whistleblow my clit”), and gets downright dark on “Free Drink Ticket” and “Dumb F--k,” tracks where her lyrics take more disturbing turns. Even on the lighter tracks, though, her lurid bathhouse soundtrack is always fuelled by an empowered female gaze and increasingly clever—though never subtle—turns of phrase. Part of the reason Peaches continues to endure is that she’s improved as an MC. “Use a thumb, or take a fist / Roll with it, Sisyphus / no hissy fit”; “Take it like a real woman, not Ayn Rand.” Feist and Kim Gordon show up as guests, but Peaches is more than juicy enough on her own. (Sept. 24)



Peaches plays the Phoenix in Toronto on Oct. 20.


Download: “Close Up,” “Dick in the Air,” “Free Drink Ticket”



Robyn & La Bagatelle Magique – Love is Free EP (Universal)


It’s been five long years since Robyn dropped her pure pop masterpiece Body Talk. Her somewhat abstract 2014 EP with Rokysopp was interesting, but the intention was not to deliver any of the club hits she’s known for. Now comes this new collaborative EP, with her touring keyboardist and the Swedish producer Christian Falk, best known for producing the 1994 hit for Neneh Cherry and Youssou N’Dour, “7 Seconds.”


There are five tracks here, each aiming for maximum punch, each designed specifically for the dancefloor. “Got To Work It Out,” with its dabs of Daft Punk and ABBA, could easily have fit onto Body Talk; the title track echoes vintage house and boasts a strange Spanish rap interlude; a previously released, faithful cover of Arthur Russell’s “Tell You (Today)” (it appeared on a Russell tribute album for the Red Hot organization last October) dabbles in jazzy Latino disco with a big brass section. And if Canadian opposition parties were remotely hip, they’d license “Lose Control” for an anti-Harper ad this election season: “If you can’t control it, you just don’t like it.”


The only complaint here is that it’s too short—but with the passing of Falk, who died during recording, this is the last we’ll hear of this trio. He certainly leaves on a high note. (Sept. 3)



Download: “Lose Control,” “Tell You (Today),” “Love is Free”



Telekinesis – Ad Infinitum (Merge)


Practically nobody knows Seattle songwriter and drummer Michael Lerner or his band, Telekinesis; his third album, 2013’s Dormarion, was all but ignored, despite the fact it’s a power-pop masterpiece, the kind that all those people whining about new records by Weezer or Sloan or Ben Folds or Spoon or whomever would be wise to pick up sooner than later.


And so few people will notice or care that Lerner has put his drumsticks down and built a home studio of synths and drum machines. The songs are still there, even if they lack some of the punch of earlier Telekinesis records; you can tell he’s been listening to a lot of Giorgio Moroder and Angelo Badalamenti soundtracks. It’s odd to hear such a great drummer programming Linn drums instead—think of just about any big ’80s hit: “Maniac,” “Take On Me,” “Love is a Battlefield”—but Lerner is clearly out to reinvent himself as a man of many moods, not just a quick sugar rush. (Sept. 17)


Telekinesis plays Toronto’s Horseshoe Tavern on Oct. 25.



Download: “Sylvia,” “In a Future World,” “Farmers Road”



Yo La Tengo – Stuff Like That There (Matador)


This year marks Yo La Tengo’s 30th year as a band; this album, featuring the return of original guitarist Dave Schramm, is a nod to their 25-year-old album Fakebook, a collection of covers. Of course a band at this stage in their career runs the risk of repeating themselves—and that’s more than the case here. Every one of these songs—by the likes of Hank Williams, The Cure, the Lovin’ Spoonful and obscurities by Antietam, the Parliaments, and the Cosmic Rays—is rendered acoustically, at mostly the same tempo, with the same whispered harmonies. Yo La Tengo have succeeded making full-on mood records before, like 2000’s And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out, but oddly enough they material they choose here—which includes two new songs, and three reworking of earlier material—doesn’t suit the task at hand. It’s all lovely and pleasant, but not particularly revelatory, nor an essential part of their long discography. (Sept. 24)


Yo La Tengo play the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Toronto on Sept. 30. There is a dinner package catered by Fat Pasha available.


Download: “Somebody’s in Love,” “Friday I’m in Love,” “The Ballad of Red Buckets”


Monday, July 07, 2014

TURF 2014


As a parent… No, just kidding. I wouldn’t pull a Peter MacKay on you like that.  It is interesting, however, the reviews of the Toronto Urban Roots Festival (TURF) I’ve read by dads (hmmm—no moms) who brought their kids to the festival.


The most egregious was this one by the National Post’s Ben Kaplan, which is, frankly, an astonishingly awful piece written by someone paid to be a culture writer at a national newspaper. I’m not one to call out colleagues for bad writing; God knows I live in a glass house. But really: woof, that should win some kind of prize. It’s been deservedly nitpicked to death on social media (and in the comments section beneath the article), but one consistent criticism is Kaplan’s reference to attending TURF “as a parent” (sorry, there’s MacKay again). Stuart Henderson at Exclaim! did the same thing, to less consternation (he’s  a much better writer, even if I disagree with almost all his opinions). I suspect some negative reaction comes from non-parents who can’t imagine why a music reviewer would think we’d care what their five-year-old thought of Artist X. I agree, it’s indulgent; if you’re representing a national media outlet, your kids shouldn’t be a prop in your story. (That was only a minor quibble with Henderson’s review, and the very least of my troubles with Kaplan’s.)


Bringing your kids to festivals is a novelty for Torontonians; Western Canadians and folkies everywhere have been doing it for decades. Silly urban hipsters always think they’ve reinvented the wheel. But the greater point is that major festivals in Toronto are actually accounting for the fact that many parents who no longer make it out to live shows are far more likely to come to a festival if they know the kids are going to be all right; both TURF and Field Trip figured this out and Toronto is a better city for it.


I was halfway through writing my own review “as a parent” when I read the above reviews and got self-conscious. But I’m not pretending to speak objectively about a festival I consciously attended as a family outing; I was there to enjoy a family outing first, educate myself second (see new acts, get story ideas) and hopefully scribble some notes after the fact.


So here they are, with hopefully few maudlin asides about my child.


With a three-year-old in tow, I can’t begin to pretend I saw everything worth seeing. I know I missed plenty I would have loved to have seen: Andrew Bird, Lucius, Caitlin Rose, New Country Rehab, Strumbellas, Sam Roberts, July Talk, Jeff Tweedy and much more of the Violent Femmes’ set than the three songs I saw. No matter, however: it's hard to leave TURF unsatisfied.


Here, then, is a summary of my highly subjective experience:


Friday

Waco Brothers: I have maximum respect for Jon Langford, even more so after I once saw the Mekons give 100% to a completely barren concert hall in Montreal more than 10 years ago. But I feel far too young—at 42—to fully appreciate what he’s up to with old-dude act the Waco Brothers, his long-running band that leans heavily on punk covers of country songs. I’m sad I missed the Sally Timms cameo during this set, and Langford’s appearance with the Burlington Welsh Men’s Choir later in the weekend.


Deer Tick: Lots of people love this band. I have no idea why. A poor man’s Cuff the Duke.


Local Natives: If I felt too young for Waco Brothers, I felt too old for Local Natives. (All told, a pretty good midlife crisis to have.) Who are these guys, when did they get so popular, and why are so many people into such a boring band? This Friday night was not shaping up well.


Beirut: I was an early adopter back in 2006, though I don’t think Zach Condon made another fantastic record until 2011’s The Rip Tide. I hadn’t seen the band in years. It sounded fantastic: his voice is as swoony as ever (though my ladyfriend disagrees; its her least favourite thing about Beirut), and it’s a perfect soundtrack to a warm summer night by the lake. That said, the set was rather static. After he dropped “Postcards from Italy” about six songs in, I was completely satiated. So it was off to…


Black Joe Lewis: This man has the most effortless scream in rock’n’roll since Little Richard. I can’t help imagining him using it in his everyday life: “Please pass the salt, baby. WAAAAAAAA-OOOOOOOOO!” To top it off, he’s got a monstrous garage rock rhythm section and a delightfully dorky three-piece horn section that includes baritone saxophone. The sound on the festival’s South Stage wasn’t forgiving—Lewis’s guitar was tinny, his voice too high in the mix. The slower numbers also dragged, with the exception of the ominous “Vampire,” of which Screamin’ Jay Hawkins would be proud. When Lewis and his band hit their party groove, however, as on “Booty City” and others, I’m sure even the trucks on the Gardiner above could feel the earth moving.


Saturday


Shovels & Rope: The most pleasant surprise of TURF. I didn’t know anything about this South Carolina duo before this set; Cary Ann Hearst’s striking country voice drew me in immediately; the instrumental juggling between her and husband Michael Trent was just as impressive. The foot-stompin’ songs aren’t half-bad, either. This was exactly the kind of band I’d hoped to discover at a festival this summer; watch for their second album, due out Aug. 26.


Drive-by Truckers: I’ve never seen this band and have only heard enough of their music to know that even the best Southern rock band is still just a Southern rock band. I thought I’d give them a shot this weekend (the why-not? beauty of festivals like this). As soon as we approached the stage, however, my boy started shouting “I don’t want to be here!” Who was I to argue?


Pokey LaFarge: My boy loves swing music. And how can you not love a man named Pokey? We saw this Missouri musician at Hillside last year, and it’s near impossible not be charmed by his old-timey take on Western swing, complete with a saxophonist/clarinetist and stand-up drummer who plays a mean harmonica. This was a must-see for our family, which sadly means we missed…


Violent Femmes: Apparently they played their 1983 debut album from front to back. Hard to argue with that. I was skeptical that after all these years, and an acrimonious lawsuit between the two remaining founding members (over a Wendy’s commercial), that the Femmes could play with any passion at all. I was prepared to leave this band in my past. Catching only “Black Girls,” “I Held Her In My Arms” and “American Music,” this was a most pleasant surprise. It also sent me back to the incredibly underrated album 3 (1989), which gets even less love than Hallowed Ground (1984) or The Blind Leading the Naked (1986). Of course that first album is untouchable—which is why it’s not entirely sad that they’re still milking it. But if this show made you reaffirm your Femmes fandom, I highly recommend you go back to the three albums they put out after the debut.


Gaslight Anthem: I’ve somehow unconsciously avoided this band for years, assuming they were faded carbon copies of bands I loved in the ’80s. Big mistake. It says a lot that they made a big impression even from the muffled distance of the kids’ area, for the same reasons a great Springsteen song still sounds good from a tiny speaker at the other end of an apartment. Judging primarily by a straw poll of T-shirts spotted at the site, this band had the most devoted fans of the weekend. If I was 20 years old, I would absolutely be one of them.


Jenny Lewis: Well, her band was pretty good, I’ll give her that. On a side note, it’s unfortunate she was the only lady at TURF with anything resembling a headlining slot.


Bidiniband: I wish I liked Bidiniband’s latest, The Motherland, more than I do. That doesn’t change the fact, however, that appreciation for Paul Linklater’s guitar playing grows exponentially when you see how exactly he pulls off what he does, while Bidini remains the most indefatigable frontman in Canadian music. The visceral punch of his lyrics work much better in the moment than they do on record; the lesser lines wash off easily with the force of his band. “The Fatherland” is his latest standout, while “Last of the Dead Wrong Things” never gets tired. Seeing the former Rheostatics leader perform directly underneath the Gardiner Expressway was—well, strangely endearing.


Man Man: The hands-down highlight for me, this group of Philadelphia oddballs get better every time I see them. The band members have changed; the duo of Ryan Kattner and Chris Powell—each pounding the shit out of their piano and drums, respectively—has not. Yes, there are ridiculous costumes involved. At times the manic ecstatic vibe can be overwhelming. But everything about the intensity of Man Man doesn’t seem the least bit forced or fake; their music has always been, to me, the sound of the only other people in the world who understand the chaos in your own head, strange shamans who are determined to dance you back to sanity. It’s not an act, a masquerade; it’s an emotional necessity. As they get older, the tempos have slowed slightly and found some funk; there are genuinely tender moments that are all the more tearjerking amidst the fantastic fuckery they get up to the rest of the time. Also: Powell is one of the best drummers you will ever see in your life. 

If that wasn’t enough, Man Man was the one act all weekend that made the boy insanely happy—like, deliriously so. Didn’t see that coming; honestly, I thought he’d be terrified by the band that both his mama and papa have loved for the last 10 years. We laughed and cried with joy and the three of us danced as a family, something I’ll never forget. Man Man: quality family entertainment. Put that in their press kit.


Neutral Milk Hotel: Well, honestly, we skipped this because by that final slot of the festival I was incapable of enjoying anything else with a sleepy (and heavy) preschooler on my shoulders—and I’m going to see them in Chapel Hill, N.C., in two weeks at Mergefest (shockingly, tickets still available, people!). It seems phenomenally weird that a band so wrapped up in mystique is now Just Another Band on Stage, during whose set stoned guys wander up to you and say, “Dude, is this Man Man playing right now?”