SFBG: Noise

Electronic Arabic: Jef Stott gets worldly at Bollyhood

2008-05-09T21:58:45Z

By Vanessa Carr

Jef Stott has been a producer and remixer on San Francisco's global electronica scene for over a decade. But this Saturday night (5/10) at Bollyhood in the Mission, Stott celebrates the release of his first full-length album – Saracen – on Six Degrees .

Stott fuses Arabic and Turkish rhythms with both electronic and acoustic beats and textures. What sets him apart from many of his world music peers is that – rather than merely sampling – Stott is a multi-instrumentalist who plays a wide range of instruments. On Saracen, he plays oud (Arabic lutes), saza and cumbus (Turkish lutes), the Persian santur, bass, and percussion. He also invites a number of guest musicians, including well-known Tunisian vocalist MC RAI.

Drawing early inspiration from art rockers lke Glenn Branca, Brian Eno, and Peter Gabriel, Stott got his musical start playing guitar in rock and metal bands is his hometown of Los Angeles in the 1980s. Stott went on to form the band Stellamara, whose blend of Middle Eastern and Balkan sounds and ambient rock awakened his interest in the devotional aspects of music beyond its entertainment value and led him to intensively study the oud under internationally known musicians Hamza El Din and Omar Faruk Tekbilek.

What is especially remarkable about Stott is his humility, reverence for his teachers and peers, and willingness to talk and think deeply about issues of cultural appropriation in world music.

SFBG: You have a background in heavy metal and art rock. When did you get interested in playing Middle Eastern music?

Jef Stott: [Playing in Stellamara] is when I made the big switch. That is when I picked up the oud, sold all my electric guitar equipment, and really got deeply interested in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish music. I almost abandoned everything I had done up to that point and started on a whole new path.

]]> It had a lot to do with Sonja [Drakulich of Stellamara], because she was very clear in her artistic vision. It was just a really attractive place to go – the idea of music as a devotional practice and not just for entertainment was at that point in my life really appealing.

Growing up in LA, it's a pretty spiritually arid place, it's kind of dry, and I was always wanting more. I had a longing. When I started working with Stellamara, that longing really opened up and kind of blossomed. I discovered this whole tradition of music being a vehicle for prayer – kirtan, Sufi music, or ecstatic drumming from Northern Africa – most of the traditions of the world have a devotional aspect to them. That lead to my interest in anthropology, and I was already interested in world music. The spiritual aspect of music gave fuel to what it was already doing, it kind of turbocharged everything and gave it a lot more focus and intention. Now that I'm playing more electronica and that I'm playing a lot of these dance parties, I still feel an element of a devotional aspect in my music, even though it is being played at loud volume under pulsing lights. I think it's something that Cheb [i Sabbah] and other producers kind of share. I've talked to people and seen films about electronic music being the new form of ecstatic dance. A lot of people feel that they really work stuff out on the dance floor.

SFBG: You've studied and played with a lot of well-known musicians in world music. How were you introduced to this community?

JS: When I first moved to San Francisco, I was Entertainment Programs Manager at SF State and I had a world music agenda and was actually booking all these people. I called Cheb i Sabbah and all these other people. I actually met all these people through booking them at the university and working with them backstage at other larger events. Because I was just a little pup – I was just this little oud player guy and I was just getting started, and I was really humble. I would say, "Oh, I'd like to study with you." That kind of developed into these other relationships. I booked the Moroccan musicians, then I ended up studying with them, and then I ended up doing an ethnography of them for my [Anthropology] degree [at SF State]. Everything kind of grew organically.

SFBG: What is your ethnic background?

JS: I was born in Los Angeles, and historically am sort of French/Celtic. My family has been in the U.S. since the 1650's. We're old school.

SFBG: How has that affected your reception by these musicians and by your fans?

JS: Issue of appropriation comes up, but I think the main thing that levels that playing field is the fact that I've studied the oud for over 10 years. I take the time to learn all the instruments that I work with; I don't just sample the music. I feel that I am an apprentice of some of the great masters. That has helped a lot. I am not just pillaging the repertoire.

SFBG: Who are your fans?

JS: Basically, it's cosmopolitan world travelers who are looking for that combination of traditional music and a globalism that comes from knowing people from a lot of different places.

SFBG: Are you concerned with the issue of appropriation in world music?

JS: Very much so. I think that some producers try to mash up different cultural traditions and sometimes those mash ups don't really work because the producer may not have a deep understanding of that music. They will have a jam going on and then they'll just kind of drop in a sample for an exotic spice, but it may not have any relevance to what is going on in the song. I find that to be kind of annoying and sort of imperialist in a way, or colonialist. That is kind of a heavy thing to say, but I think what I am trying to do is to find common ground of all this music, find combinations that are not just East versus West but actually are a very happy marriage. Hip hop beats and Arabic rhythms work really, really well together. Or Indian tabla and drum and bass work really well together. I try to a way where the combinations aren't forced, so both sides benefit and there is not really a duality anymore. This is the music I hear in my head. I am an oud player and I'm an electronic producer, and I was an avant-garde guitar player in LA. Some people just kind of jam these things together and think it sounds cool. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't.

SFBG: How do you preserve integrity of the traditions from which you draw?

Generally I don't really use samples, I record the musicians live. I generally don't sample melodies; I find musicians to play them and I work with them in the studio – we collaborate – in a live setting.

SFBG: How would you describe your own spiritual practice?

JS: I am a little Sufi, Dervish kind of guy. I did Vipassana meditation for a while, spent a lot of time at Zen centers, and have a sort of lapsed yoga practice, though I'm getting back into it. I feel that music is an incredibly powerful tool for healing and I definitely believe that it physiologically changes you. There is a term called nada brahma, which means "the world is sound," and I really believe that. That is why I enjoy combining the deep traditional beautiful music with these lush arrangements, because it's like you're winning on both fronts. I think if you turned off all the acoustic instruments in my music, it would still be very beautiful, and then you add this other element of these gorgeous, very human melodies, for me it's the perfect combination.

Jef Stott Saracen CD Release party
May 10, 9pm, $5, 21+

Bollyhood Café
3372 19th Street, SF

Also featuring:

Dub Gabriel (DJ set)
Kush Arora (Surya Dub-Live Dubwise set)
Drum Spyder (Live Percussion / DJ set)

Runnin' through the Supergrass with "Diamond Hoo Ha"

2008-05-09T20:54:54Z

By Todd Lavoie

Supergrass, “Diamond Hoo Ha Man”

Perhaps it’s perfectly fitting that the lads in Supergrass -- cheeky as they’ve always been -- are the ones in the much-ballyhooed Britpop pack having the last laugh after all. Chalk it up to their boyish exuberance, I suppose, or maybe to their steadfast refusal to take themselves too seriously, but the Oxford stompers are now deep into the double-digit years of their career, and still sounding remarkably fresh with each release, while so many of those acts once mentioned in the same breath have either broken up or lost their relevance.

The once-ubiquitous movement, which the British music press essentially heralded as something akin to the second coming of Christ, complete with its share of messianic drama and seething rivalries, had a great run for a while there, beginning around the mid-‘90s and lasting through the turn of the century. Blur, Oasis, Pulp, Suede, Elastica, Sleeper -- they were some of the big-hitters at the center of it all, unapologetically celebrating Britishness, flag-drapery and all, through a spirited revisit of ‘60s Mod culture, punk/post-punk jitters, and New Wave electro-romanticism.

When Supergrass showed up, still in their teens and hardly concealing it, the bright-eyed scruffs seemed like the younger, sillier siblings to the art-school grads of Blur and Pulp. I imagine many folks would’ve never guessed at the time of their breakthrough 1995 single “Alright” (yep, as in “We are young/ we run green/ keep our teeth nice and clean/ see our friends, see the sights/ feel alright” -- recently snagged by Walt Disney world for their feel-good commercials) that the band would still be going strong thirteen years later. Nothing against them, of course, it’s just that bands sticking together for more than a decade are a bit of a rarity.

But here they are, and their recently Brit-released sixth album, Diamond Hoo Ha (Parlophone/EMI) – to be released here 6/10 on Astralwerks -- is a winner. With the demise of Pulp and Elastica and Sleeper and Suede fading further by the day, and in view of Blur’s highly unlikely on-again/off-again reformation rumors and Oasis’s having long since lost the plot, it looks like Supergrass might strike the double-bonus of longevity and sustained relevance. Hmmm, feel alright, indeed.

]]> As the title would suggest, Diamond Hoo Ha is a strutting, striding return to the ebullient, leg-kicking wild abandon which has become the Supergrass signature over the years. Its predecessor, 2005’s pun-loving Road To Rouen, was somewhat of a sore thumb in the band’s catalogue. But what a lovely sore thumb it was, largely back-burnering their familiar three-pots-of-coffee delirium in favor of a richly-textured after-hours atmosphere.

That French getaway (the title a reference to the location of the studio as well as a tribute to The Ramones) worked wonders for the band, inspiring some occasionally breezy, easy-going grooves as well as producing easily the most introspective album of their career. Sadly, some pigeonhole-fixated fans squawked about the change in direction, failing to give a fair chance to such a work of darker ambitions. Road To Rouen was the sound of a band “maturing”--- an inevitability, I’d say, given the fact that they’d first come together twelve years earlier. Still, those seeking a return to the pre-Rouen days will surely cartwheel over the pulsing, surging sugar-rush stylings of Supergrass’ latest.

If its predecessor should be considered a form of therapy or an unleashing of demons, then Diamond Hoo Ha is the rejuvenation which occurs afterwards. Having made it through their dark night of the soul, the guys seem to have brushed themselves off, spiffed themselves up, and headed into town for a spell or two of merry-making. And yes, they sound younger here than they have in quite some time.

The gargantuan fuzz-thump of opening track “Diamond Hoo Ha Man” is a swaggering, sneering announcement of return, boasting dirty garage-blues guitar and some of the most primal pummeling of drummer Danny Goffey’s career. Sound a bit White Stripes-y, perhaps? Well, it is, but the addition of elements of nervy-funk--- particularly with the arrival of Gaz Coombe’s feverish falsetto over jittery guitar--- make this lead-off single far more than a mere send-up of Jack and Meg White’s larger-than-life garage bluster. There’s something rather tantalizing about his unbridled cries of “I’ve gotta get you in my suitcase”--- not sure what might happen next, but I have to say I’m tempted.

Its follow-up, “Bad Blood,” offers similar booming enormity, albeit here with the curious addition of Coombe’s vaguely Iggy Pop vocals (circa Lust For Life/The Idiot) on a few of the song’s twitchier verses before giving way to the fist-pumping assault of the chorus. The disc’s stunning triple-threat concludes with the strident “Rebel In You,” a giddy celebration of the Young and the Spunky powered by rousing shouts of “you’re some kind of fascination/ hands down you’re beautiful.” Anchored by Robert Coombes’ ringing piano and Mick Quinn’s authoritative bass rumbles, enhanced by unison blue-eyed-soul “ooh”s and “aah”s, the song is an older, wiser counterpart to “Alright”, a youth-anthem for those who have gotten a bit longer in the tooth but remain as fabulous as ever.

Diamond Hoo Ha was recorded in Berlin’s legendary Hansa Studios, Ground Zero for some of David Bowie’s and Iggy Pop’s most ambitious recordings, and the choice of locale seems to have made an impact on the band. Whereas Road To Rouen offered plenty of countryside ambience, Supergrass’ latest revels in a distinctly grittier decadence, and the album also offers its share of odd blips and beeps--- the sort you’d expect from a studio which used to be practically next to the Berlin Wall. “Rebel In You”, for all of its straightforward rock trappings, contains a weirdly wobbly Brian Eno-esque synth solo which wouldn’t feel out of place on Bowie’s Heroes, and the same goes for the troubled saxophone squalls punctuating the haunted shuffles of “The Return Of…”

Then there’s the flat-out bizarre rant of “Whiskey & Green Tea” -- did the anything-goes spirit of Berlin play a role in Supergrass’ most mouth-foaming moment on the record? Who can say, but the song certainly delivers divinely frenzied release with its sweaty proclamations of being chased by Chinese dragons, the KGB, and, er, William S. Burroughs while saxophones skronk and squeal holy hell. I seriously doubt that anyone bedazzled by the toothsome charms of “Alright” all those years ago could ever have seen this one coming…

Fancy some reminiscing? Here’s the vid for “Alright.” Ah, so young…:

Pics: Reliving Coachella -- That Pig! And more

2008-05-08T20:08:08Z

Fab photog Tommy Brockert's Coachella photos keep streaming in ...

The light side of the pig -- from Roger Waters' Pink Floyd flashback set

Future indie addicts

London DJ Erol Alkan's first West Coast appearance blew the crowd away

The lights at night

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As close to Prince as we could get

Does It Offend You, Yeah? rocked it

The VIP tent -- where everyone was a VIP

DJ A-Trak wavin' around

Another night sight

Roger Waters

The Roger Waters spectacle

Duran Duran again again

2008-05-07T23:53:42Z

By Joshua Rotter

Call me overly-dramatic but Duran Duran have and will forever be my favorite band. They have been since I was five. That's probably why one of my greatest regrets is opting for a Nintendo console over tickets to the "Arena" tour -- what was to be the band's final outing (with all five founding members) -- for my sixth birthday back in 1984.

While seeing reformed lineups both onstage and at record signings in the 90's, and even encountering John Taylor one fateful morning at the Noah's Bagels that I worked at in 1997, offered some consolation, nothing would come close to seeing the Fab Five together again on their 2008 reunion tour.

All pics by Quartknee Kwatek

While guitarist Andy Taylor's recent departure from the group may have sprinkled on my parade, I can't say that their Bay Area Red Carpet Massacre tour stop at Sleep Train Amphitheatre in Concord May 2 suffered for it.

The three-act show, which debuted in late 2007 on Broadway, was highly-theatrical, incorporating all the necessary show-stopping elements.

There was unique staging in the band's utilization of a simple skyscraper background and a variety of light sources -- from stage lights to bulbs -- to evoke a variety of moods instead of traditional video screens.

The musical numbers -- from the darker tracks off their Timba-Lake-produced "Red Carpet Massacre" (2007) like bass-heavy opener "The Valley", beat-driven "Night-Runner" and hip pop number "Skin Diver" complete with Timbaland rapping loop to rearrangements of the band's lighter classics such as "Hungry Like the Wolf", "The Reflex" and "Rio" -- were mixed gorgeously.

The mid-section of the show was run entirely on synthesizers and drum machines, so
tracks like "Last Chance on the Stairway" "All She Wants Is" and "I Don't Want Your Love" became even more electro-shocked, blending seamlessly with the band's cover of The Normal's "Warm Leatherette".

Josh and the boys

]]> And the group members, elegantly costumed in tailor-made Juicy Couture suits with appliquéd D insignias evoked pathos among the 30's and 40's crowd with their 90's number one hit ballad "Ordinary World" which took on even more somberness with LeBon's introduction: "I see the news, and watch the war and the suffering, and see how they try to use fear to rule us, and it strikes me that some generation will say I'm not afraid to reach out to people different than me".

But before a tear could drop, the mood was elevated again with a rousing rendition of "Reach Up for the Sunrise" off 2004's "Astronaut" album, which got the crowd's arms swaying as LeBon shook a tambourine in accompaniment.

There was also a bit of prerequisite drama during "Girls on Film", when one female fan became girl on stage, rushing at LeBon from behind and grabbing his junk -- before being pulled off stage by security.

But the real scene for me happened post-show, backstage. As I sat in wait for the band to appear, there was a rising feeling of anticipation in my chest. Thankfully, I had an abundant supply of Xanax and a cocktail at hand.

As the band emerged from their dressing rooms, it was fandemonium among the two-dozen "V.I.P.'s" But I took care to approach each one conscientiously -- I am a journalist for fuck's sake, so I have a reputation to uphold -- starting with keyboardist Nick Rhodes, who I'd phone interviewed twice before.

After Nick and I talked about the differences between Duran Duran's "Timba-Lake"-produced album vs. Madonna's Hard Candy, namely that the former managed to hang on to their sound through the process, while Madonna seemed to lose herself under the weight of the highly sought-after producer's trademark sound.

But before I knew it, I was posing for pictures with the band, at which time I told drummer Roger Taylor how glad I was that he was back in the fold, and attempted to remind John about our Noah's Bagels encounter, now 11 years ago. But he was mostly interested in talking about how the retail chain has suffered since diversifying their products.

One of the funniest moments of the night occurred when after one pursed-lipped picture with the group, LeBon told me, "Awww, you pouted. You could have been a member of Duran Duran."

"Oh Simon," I retorted, "Don't make a promise you can't..." Maybe it was the pill and alcohol combo or maybe it was my nervousness, but I just couldn't think of the word to end the cliché. As soon as "keep" entered my mind, it was too late. By then the singer was off, conversing with another fan.

Roger was the hot one. -- Editor

I'd say it was all very surreal, but that would be just another cliché. All I can say is that for the remainder of the weekend, I felt "Hungry (Like the Wolf)"-over as my serotonin levels were replenishing after the extraordinary experience.

But somehow it all felt very destined. It was as if the band's 30 years and mine were somehow leading up to this moment despite my Nintendo misjudgment 24 years ago.

All these years later, I can't even recall what happened to that old video game console that once meant so much to me. It's just a careless memory now. But Duran Duran is not just for adolescence, they're for life.

Clubs: Cross-dressed Monster Salad

2008-05-07T23:31:04Z

The storied Metro Bar in the Castro moved down the street to Church and Market a while ago (the old space became the suspiciously Metro-alike Lookout) -- and people worried for its future. Luckily, the minds behind the Metro are sharp enough to know they need a draw, and the new Metro has already become a premiere trash-drag venue (multiple Joan Crawford tribute nights aside.)

It's even managed to lure one of San Francisco's bloody, beloved drag traditions, The Cookie Dough Monster Show, run by Cookie Dough herself (with her cute DJ partner MC2), from its pleasant perch at Harvey's.

The biweekly Saturday night drag-stravaganza may be big on low-budget thrills, but its offal-covered heart is always in the right place. This Saturday, May 10, features the freakishly unexplainable House of Salad, whom I adore. These underaged children will grow up to be starz someday, I tell you -- starz.

My Bloody $50

2008-05-07T20:07:55Z

OK, yeah, I realize that after a 15 year absence or whatever, every one of chthonic "shoegaze" (ugh) legends My Bloody Valentine's fans are supposedly middle-aged Google coders now (or parking Daddy's Pagani Zonda C12S outside Popscene on Thursdays). But $47.50 plus "handling" for their hopefully triumphant and thalassically massive comeback appearance at the Concourse on September 30? What am I, Jarvis Cocker?

Rollin' and gazin'

Still, when I saw them in '89 (?) they ripped my world apart. And the ceiling of the club actually rained down plaster from their ampage. I'm gladly going to fund Kevin Shields's apparently still raging extasy habit. Fuck my dreams of front-row Cher in Vegas -- bring on the luxury Googe!

Obligatory vid of "Soon" by MBV here:

Africa adopts U2

2008-05-06T20:46:24Z

By Todd Lavoie

Vieux Farka Touré, "Bullet the Blue Sky"

Oh, U2 -- they might not have changed the world as much as they’d hoped (or, not yet, anyway), but at least they’ve made it a warmer, more hopeful place, yes? Hard to fathom a band more deserving of the tag “global phenomenon,” but there it is, slapped upon every stirring chorus and grand sweeping gesture from Bono’s anointed fingers -- the sheer enormousness of it all would be mighty hard to take if the guys didn’t have the goods to back it up. But they do, and what’s more, they’ve kept the flow for longer than some listeners have even been alive -- to whom else on the international airwaves could we ever say such a thing? Michael Jackson? Once upon a time, sure, but not anymore. Mariah Carey? Please. And you’d best bite that lip before suggesting Britney! But honestly: has anyone else in modern-day rock/pop ubiquity had the same level of social impact as U2? For all of the mumbles and grumbles about Bono’s perceived messiah-complex, it’s worth remembering that he and his mates have pushed far beyond the familiar celebrity-pose of half-hearted idealism in favor of honest-to-goodness optimism, championing countless causes with honest-to-goodness conviction. Take that, Ms Spears.

Further testimony can be found on the recently-released In The Name Of Love: Africa Celebrates U2 (Shout! Factory). An intriguing collection of interpretations from U2’s catalogue by some of the continent’s most notable musicians, the disc serves as more than just a reminder of the band’s utmost uber-importance -- this tribute also offers fresh insight into their unimpeachable songwriting skills. Language barriers? Pshaw! How nineteenth century!

]]> Seriously, though: with some of these songs so firmly locked into the Anglo/American vernacular at this point, after so many years on the radio and in videos, it’s a frequently fascinating experience, hearing such thoughtfully innovative overhauls of them. Along with a knack for crafting rousing social commentary and the occasional weepy ballad, U2 has long specialized in tendering its own brand of uplifting, dogma-free spirituality -- a particularly excitable form of humanism, perhaps -- and here we see those tendencies in full flourish, thanks to downright jubilant takes by Angelique Kidjo and the Soweto Gospel Choir. Over the course of the compilation’s 12 tracks, there’s a palpable sense of hope, of the sheer unassailable strength of the human spirit (yes, even on the previously-less-than-sunny “Sunday Bloody Sunday.”) Oh, and did I mention that a portion of the CD’s sales will benefit the Global Fund, an organization devoted to fighting AIDS, tuberculosis, and malaria? Well, there you go.

I mentioned the Soweto Gospel Choir: the 30-plus-member-strong South African ensemble offer a disc highlight with an unbridled-joy revisit of “Pride (In The Name of Love)”. Over a delicate, understated drum rumble-and-roll, three soloists trade heart-racing performances of the civil-rights anthem’s lyrics while a veritable wall of triumphant voices cry out “in the name of love” in lushly-arranged, ever-shifting harmonies. Senegalese vocalist Cheikh Lô redesigns the strident “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” into a mesmerizing plea, its yearn and ache immediately recognizable despite the song’s translation in Lô’s native Wolof language. Particularly hypnotic is the bubbling, rippling rattle-funk rhythm -- close your eyes, and you can almost feel yourself floating downriver…

Benin’s Angelique Kidjo and Cameroonian expats Les Nubians bring their trademark exuberance to “Mysterious Ways” and “”With Or Without You” respectively -- the former delivers shimmering-guitar Afro-Pop (along with a Craig Armstrong/Massive Attack-worthy symphonic arrangement in the opening moments), while the latter opts for a deliciously squelchy future-funk. Say goodbye to the original’s plaintive throb, however. This version is pure synth-squiggle and slightly-detached R&B bliss. Another Joshua Tree (Island) number gets re-modeled for the dancefloor with Tony Allen’s “Where The Streets Have No Name,” wherein the former drummer for Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti injects the fierce longing of the original with an insistent clatter-rhythm and rapturous call-and-response from a sweltering horn section.

For an altogether contrasting listening experience, I’d head directly to “Bullet The Blue Sky”, here interpreted by Mali’s Vieux Farka Touré (son of the legendary Ali Farka Touré) in a nervy blues grumble. While it may lack the U2 version’s violent theatrics, it more than compensates with its steady creep and sweaty jitters, palpable even without any fluency in French. Set amongst the considerably lighter fare offered by its neighbors, “Bullet the Blue Sky” might be a bit of a sore thumb. But, oh, what a perfectly fascinating sore thumb it is nonetheless.

Pics: Reliving Coachella -- Chromeo, Fatboy Slim, A-Trak

2008-05-05T23:38:50Z

Hell yeah we're still hungover and sunburnt. That's why this is a week late. Fab photog Tommy Brockert captured the sites and moods of Coachella 2008. This is part one. Rawk.

Burning Man fave Big Rig Jig centered the fest

The boys of Chromeo slice the backhand

Oakland/Sacramento natives Wallpaper made their own lineup in the parking lot

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Cut/Copy failed to disappoint

Fatboy Slim rises from the big beat dead

A-Trak takes back the night

Neon Neon hop in the DeLorean, speed back to the future

2008-05-02T22:02:55Z

By Todd Lavoie

Neon Neon, “I Lust U (featuring Cate Le Bon)”

As far as concept albums go, it couldn’t get much odder: Neon Neon’s Stainless Style (Lex Records) -- the new collaboration between Super Furry Animals frontman Gruff Rhys and underground electro/hip hop producer Boom Bip -- takes a body-rockin’ trundle on the time-machine back to the heady life and times of John DeLorean, and mercifully, it works and works and works. It could’ve been so completely naff -- concept albums often are, frequently falling prey to their own ambition and overly-serious dedication to the subject matter concerned -- but the impish Welsh singer/songwriter and L.A. beatmaster handle the conceit with humor, reverence, and more than a little insight as well. Better yet, the album just as successfully when considered merely as a collection of songs, no more, no less. Isolate any of these synth-wigglers from the concept album construct, and you’ll still end up with a solid stand-alone track worthy of your hips and ears.

A neon yellow DeLorean: ready

Stainless Style is steeped a-plenty deep in the Back to The Future era. Much like the infamous DeLorean vehicle itself, the album is slick and sleek, squeaking from a hard polish that lands midway between glitzy and tacky beyond belief -- in the best possible way, mind you. Any recording which intends to faithfully, convincingly pay tribute to the 80s must speak with a fluency in the rhythmic- and synth-cheeses of the times, and Neon Neon apparently has taken a full-immersion course in the language.

]]> Cold-steel analog synths, plodding electro-snare sounds, Miami Sound Machine/Expose-recalling spazz-beats -- these are the nouns and verbs of Stainless Style’s speech, and Gruff and Boom Bip make fantastic sentences with them. What’s particularly fascinating is their relationship to what is being said: They’re not quite ironic here, and they steer quite clear of camp. Actually, listen closely, and what initially comes across as a wild ride on a cocaine wave reveals itself to carry more than a whiff or two of melancholia, perhaps in a nod of acknowledgment to that whole style-over-substance zeitgeist-thing so inexorably linked with the era.

Then again, much of the latent-sadness could be chalked up to the sweet sighing qualities of Rhys’ voice. As playful and prankish as his Super Furries and solo work has often been, the man is also very capable of hinting at life’s disappointments when he goes for the weary-bones delivery--- check his main gig’s country-soul weeper “Let The Wolves Howl At The Moon” from the recent Hey Venus! (Rough Trade) for proof. Stainless Style offers glimmers of sadness now and again amidst the flash and crash of all of its electro-bombast -- whether they are hindsight-reflections of the decade’s doomed dreams is up for the listener to decide, I suppose, since Neon Neon seem to dig into the time-capsule without commentary or declaration of emotional distance from the subject matter. But hey, why over-analyze? The dancefloor calls…
Neon Neon, “Belfast”

There’s a little intrigue before reaching the club, however -- Stainless Style starts off with the deliciously John Carpenter-esque instrumental “Neon Theme,” a nervy chase scene played out in stalker-evoking analogue synth churns, sputtering guitar, and circa-1979 early-industrial percussion. It’s a curious opener, considering it seems to bear little relation to the rest of the album -- easily the darkest segment, it shares more than a few similarities with the after-hours post-disco of artists such as Chromatics and Glass Candy, re-visiting the Reagan years through the soundtracks to its slasher and stalker films. Much like those artists, “Neon Theme” stirs up memories of what passed for “sounds of the future” in the late 70s/early 80s; at the time, such uses of synth and processed percussion sounded rather revolutionary. Sure, now they come across as dated, but at least in a charming way…

In this sense, “Neon Theme” also serves as an entry point into the 80s; everything afterwards sounds considerably more modern than the opener. Track two, for example, “Dream Cars,” features the quintessential 80s motif of synths-as-horn-blasts as well as an Art Of Noise-inspired robo-beatbox rhythm. The downright weird “I Told Her On Alderaan”--- weird in the sense that the Star Wars subject matter sounds so perfectly hummably normal--- feels like an unholy union between Men At Work and Go West/Cutting Crew/Mr. Mister/insert-late-in-the-game-New Wave-artist-here, thanks in part to Rhys’ vaguely Colin Hay-esque delivery and an unashamed indulgence in nearly every cliché served up by synth-bands trying to “rock out.” Earnest metronomic beat by self-deluded, hair gel-mulleted drummer? Check. Chugging, lip-bitten rhythm guitar? Check. Occasional faux-handclaps thwacked out on a Fairlight or a Roland by a similarly hair gel-mulleted keyboardist dancing in place with far more exuberance than necessary? Check. If this sounds god-awful -- and it should! -- I have some good news: it isn’t. At all. Truth be told, it’s one of the catchiest songs on the album. It’s strangely brilliant. How it relates to John DeLorean? No idea. I don’t know -- maybe the guy had a thing for Princess Leia...

Neon Neon, “Dream Cars” live at the Viper Room

DeLorean did have a thing for Raquel Welch, however, and “Raquel” is a percolating-synth tribute to their short-lived love affair, recalling 1985-era Erasure or perhaps even -- please don’t tell me I’m the only one who remembers these guys! -- Kon Kan. (Come on, folks, “I Beg Your Pardon”? Tell me you remember!) “Oh Raquel, you’ve really got the power over me,” Rhys croons away before declaring, “I saw you as a movie star -- and now you’re riding in my car!” It’s oh so charmingly, dorkily sweet -- and the popping-rhythm breakdown in the middle is unbelievable!

“Trick For Treat” -- with its decidedly-now production and Spank Rock rap -- manages to still fit thematically with its neighbors despite its obvious musical differences. Here, Har Mar Superstar turns in a glorious white-boy funk falsetto over nagging synth shrieks and a low-riding booty beat. “Sweat Shop” -- boasting a nasty-with-a-capital-N vocal by Yo! Majesty--- also transports the listener out of the Eighties and into the twenty-first century. Switch the vocals and this could be a Missy Elliott or M.I.A. track. Its follow-up, “Belfast” -- the title a reference to DeLorean’s doomed Northern Ireland manufacturing plant -- is a downheartedly-delivered rumination by the designer-turned-exec over what went wrong. “Belfast, you were my Vietnam,” Rhys sighs over stuttering synth-pop in the vein of “If You Leave”-era O.M.D.

It’s in moments such as these -- wherein he and Boom Bip inject the cold-chill of such otherwise-detached music with moments of understanding and compassion--- which offer the album’s biggest surprises. “Oh how many are my foes, how many rise against me,” Rhys laments on the broken-and-beaten closing title track, and -- dare I say it? -- by the song’s final sigh, I think I might have even felt a bit sad about DeLorean’s humbled demise.

Sizzle-shazam: Lazer Sword cuts loose

2008-05-01T23:09:25Z

In which the breathless writer of this week's Super Ego column in the paper, laying out the deets on the emerging lazer bass sound, cuts deeper with bass-bangin' SF duo Lazer Sword (and gets a li'l spankin' for slapping the "lazer bass" genre header over their sick-ass beats.) Stick it to me! Below is my e-mail interview with swordsters Lando Kal and LL ...

The dynamic duo
Photo by Jordan Fraker

SFBG: So what’s the Lazer Sword backstory?
LL: I'm 26 years old and originally from Portland, OR, back when the Trailblazers were hot, but have been in SF for nearly 5 years now. Before I made the move I was heavily into making hip-hop beats in a rap group called Evil Hands, and when we started getting some shows around town I had no choice but to be the DJ (the guy who mans the CD player and does little scratches over the hook) so I was kind of forced to get used to standing on stage and learn to actually spin records a bit since I wasn't one of the rappers.

After landing in SF I continued to work on music and started playing around with more instrumental type of shit since I had no homies who rapped in the immediate area. Lando and I had crossed paths a few times in the city before we actually got together on some music, but after an official introduction from our mutual hombre Keenan (2005?) we found many similarities in what each other were doing in our respective studios and how we were both trying to do some new experimental shit as well. For a couple months we dabbled around and got a feel for where things were going, but after some people heard what we were doing there was a bit of force put on coming up with a way to hit the streets, so insert a few more months of hard work and eventually we had a live show.

Lazer Sword rip up Rickshaw Stop, May 2007

LANDO: Well I'm 24 and though born in San Francisco, I grew up in Sacramento. I've been back for about 6 years now and still enjoy every bit of it. I've been producing/ DJing for about 8 years now, messing around with various styles throughout the years. I met Bryant about 4 years ago here in San Francisco and we've been labcolabin' ever since. We met through mutual friends and through passing at Amoeba records (where I worked at the time), trading thoughts on good records for sample material and what not, and began visiting each others' respective home studios to jam the fuck out. Noticing we had very similar tastes in music and production styles, we naturally began throwing our ideas together, creating boosty tunes and realizing it all worked well together. We've been performing for a little over a year now and the sets have changed quite a bit since the first show. I think we can read each other a bit more.

SFBG: What's going on up there on stage and how do you work together to produce your sound? Especially, how do you produce your lazer bass sound?

]]> LL: It's really been a continually changing roster of equipment. At first we were probably slightly overdoing it with like ten devices on stage at once... a synthesizer, various midi controllers, samplers, and effects machines and some other bonus items even, but we are going about things a little more reasonable now. When there are shows coming up more and more frequently it can be a bitch to tear your studio apart for every one, so we have lightened up to usually three or four key pieces of gear (usually a couple midi controllers with all the right bells and whistles, and another toy or two) and that suits us rather well. Two laptops generally serve as our respective control centers, and we're running both running Ableton Live because its the absolute illest program for what we are doing. Our set is an evolving melting pot of everything new we've been working on, often laced with a handful of brand new re-edits of what other jams we are feeling at the moment. You can also expect a good amount of rap lyrics thrown in there for everyones enjoyment.

Basically, when we go out to see our favorite producers play live we hope to see them busting their asses, so we take the same approach with our own shows. It makes it far more exciting for both us and the attendees to take some chances on stage and really make it live as fuck.

LANDO: We use two separate laptops connected to a couple midi controllers which are synced to Ableton Live and other plug-ins/secret weapons on the computers to manipulate the sound live. A Korg Kaoss pad is also connected for extra random effects. We're basically playing various loops at a time, using our own material mixed in with a lot of other material we dig from other artists/friends and essentially remixing them live on the spot, kind of like a dj hybrid sort of thing, along with the added club rap acapella every so often. Every set is different and mostly improv. and we try to have mad fun with it, though there's a lot of concentration involved. Every attempt at producing is different and we generally find our sound through trial and error, adding effects here, or chopping and detuning a sample there, until we're satisfied with a finished product.

Lazerin' Montreal's Turbo Crunk party, April 2008
Photo by Blingmod

SFBG: You're pretty well-known and propped for your treatment of recent hip-hop/crunk blowouts like 50 Cent's "I Get Money" and Lil Wayne's "Stuntin Like My Daddy" (which works my azz off, btw). But you do much more than lay the boom-glitch-blap over the tracks -- you pretty much deconstruct and rework 'em. Is this an intellectual/philosophical effort, or do your productions come more spontaneously from you jamming together on the technology?

LANDO: I guess a little bit of both, I mean, a little more on the spontaneous jaming side of things but there are tools and programs that we're more experienced with and use often more than others. We don't have a set formula as to how we make tracks by any means. We both just start picking at it, using everything we know and the tune slowly but surely begins to blossom. If there's something one of us isn't feeling we'll compromise and try other options to make the overall sound work best for the both of us.

LL: It's really all of the above. Now that we've been working together for a couple years now, we are more and more finding a sound that is very 'in the middle' of both of our styles, and I think at times we may even hear the material to be remixed, and probably imagine something not too far from one another.
There is also definitely a spontaneous element to our productions for sure. I think we both really get down with the idea of just chopping the living hell out of something and rearranging left and right until we stumble upon something that sounds right.

SFBG: What do you consider your sound's relationship to hip-hop, and what other styles (dub step, reggae, electro, glitch) would you say really influence you?

LANDO: Well of course hip-hop is the root of our sound and we both began our own respective projects working with back to the basics, raw sample based hip-hop beats way before we even met. But our sound now is almost directly related to a huge mixture of all our influences which over the years has to do with much more than just hip-hop. Most of our music is infused with a little bit of electro, hip-hop, techno, disco house, grime, hyphy, maybe a little IDM, and psych/progrock. As long as it has that hype factor, we're game.

LL: Hip-hop is definitely still at the core for me. The drum programming, tempos, and vulgar language are all still present for sure. Grime and dubstep are also big influences with their nasty low end, and we're both into that hot new electro shit coming out of France too. Our roommate Ryan a.k.a. Ghosts On Tape is a huge influence, he is one of my favorite live acts, and I think we definitely get some faster tempo influence from his more dance-able stylee.

We're both also feeling a lot of that old electro, psychedelic rock, and early synthesizer music for sure. As far as people we might be thrown into a category with, our homies in Montreal like Megasoid and Blingmod and are influences for sure, as well the cats in LA such as Glitch Mob, Flying Lotus, Daedelus, etc. There is also a bunch of guys in Scotland doing big things right now that I get pumped on as well.

SFBG Who does your graphics, and how much would you say your visual presentation is a part of the whole Lazer Sword package?

LL: We're both in charge of the graphic side of things. I used to do a great deal of graffiti, and I think that shows in our art. I think most people who aren't from SF probably know us from coming across our MySpace, and would like to think it reflects what our music sounds like to an extent. Loud, flashy, and maybe even slightly abrupt. I can imagine people associate our sound with our visual presence a bit.

LANDO: We both do our own graphics, for now I guess. Bryant's really good at fonts and collaging things and I tend to mess around with different effects and patterns. The whole neon rave look mixed with gangster rap clash is always a must and definitely represents the mixture of styles in our production quite well so we tend to stick with that. We think the visual aspect is very important, our music is very vibrant and club/party oriented at times so the flashy colors and "lazer like" glow is always fitting. When we finish a track, of course we're mad excited about it so we get right to work with the images. It definitely gives tracks more of a presence online.

SFBG: The lazer bass (or as LL calls it, awesomely, "future blap") sound is really blowing up, what with the Turbo Crunk scene, Glitch Mob (especially ediT), Daddy Kev, and others -- who else in the Bay Area are you affiliated with or admire who's following the sound?

LL: We don't really refer to our own sound as LAZER BASS, but I can see for obvious reasons why people would make that connection (we have LAZER in our name, and we like to include a heavy slab of BASS in our tracks). Future Blap is something I made up joking around... Blap is a term coined by the Bay Area rap legend E-40 (meaning a hot track, a slapper, a banger). Its a regional term and we are proud to be repping the bay, and although we are making this music right now, and we'd like to think we might sound how one would expect Bay Area rap to sound in the FUTURE. We don't have a big interest in pigeonholing our own genre, especially since our tracks widely vary in style at times, so if thats inevitable to keep from being categorized with a genre I would be most at home just sticking with FUTURE BLAP. Anyhow, besides our main man Ghosts On Tape, there are a few other local gangstas like Mophono and DNAE Beats who are hustling big time on stage, but I think our style pushing toward a more experimental or extreme side of things.

LANDO: Well we're always going to hype the man (our roommate) Ghosts On Tape up because we're both really into his stuff and he slays shit, though his music is a bit different. There's also Eprom who's got the illy glitched out thugwarp style, and best of all, these two young dudes out of San Jose that not too many cats are hype to. They're 17, still in high school, they go by ¡Me Gusta! and they got that blippy space hyphy shit that thumps and no ones' ready for it. Trust me soon, they'll get equipment and start creeping out of the crevices. We use some of there material in our current set.

SFBG: Is your EP on B.E.A.R. dropping soon? What's gonna be on it?

Lazer Sword: Soon soon soon, we know peeps are anxious and we are too but these things take time. I guess that's a good thing. It will have 5 tracks of fiery madness and trust us, it's on its way.

SFBG: A more philosophical question, in case you think about it: Do you think there's a deeper meaning to the lazer sounds you drop and do they mean anything deeper to you than sick noise and beats? How did you land on that sound and why do you think it really moves the party right now?

LL: We don't usually use the word lazer as an adjective. We chose our name from a preset effect on one of our prized effect units, as we thought it represented the "futuristic" (LAZER) and the chop-and-paste (SWORD) element. I feel like our stuff draws more of an "ohh shit, this is bangin!" response than pull any deep feelings from the listener...

I think our live show offers something for both the production enthusiast (men) and the dance party (women) fairly equally, so the ratio is always something to party about... Lazer Sword shows are probably a good place to go if you are looking for some action actually.

LANDO: Sick noise and beats, more or less. Yeah that may sound lame but with this type of music, i think that's as deep as it needs to get. Don't get me wrong, we're pretty damn passionate about our work but after all, it's party music. When the shit hits you get down and that means a lot to me.

LAZER SWORD
With XO Skeletons and VC4
Fri/2, 9 p.m., call for price
Balazo 18
2811 Mission, SF
(415) 255-7227
www.myspace.com/lazersword

GLITCH MOB
With Lazer Sword and Flying Lotus
May 9, 9 p.m.–3 a.m., $20
Mighty
119 Utah, SF
(415) 762-0151
www.mighty119.com

Church lets out with Marty Willson-Piper

2008-05-01T17:05:35Z

By Todd Lavoie

Marty Willson-Piper, "Questions Without Answers" (1989)

What a treat! Singer/songwriter/founding member of Aussie atmosphere-masters The Church, Marty Willson-Piper, is doing a special solo-spotlight show--- backed by the alluringly-named Mood Maidens--- at the Great American Music Hall on Sunday, May 4th. As far as I remember, the last time he played here in the city was back in the summer of '06, with The Church, at the same venue. Ah, what a show that was--- ever-genteel bandmate Steve Kilbey joked about spearheading an "Elizabethan Rock" movement, and Willson-Piper obliged by bringing delicate, graceful guitar-dexterity to Church slow-burners and ambience-anthems such as "Under The Milky Way", "Chromium", and "Metropolis". No word yet about whether Elizabethan Rock is still on the front burner for the band, but the charming, quick-quipping guitarist/big-hit-with-the-ladies does have a new album out--- entitled Nightjar (Heyday Records), it's a gorgeous collection of warm-textured folk-rock pushed along by some of the most delicious six string jangles since, well, the last Church album, really.

Is an introduction to The Church necessary? Probably not, so how about a reminder, then: ever since releasing their debut Of Skins and Heart (Arista/EMI) back in 1981, the band has released well over a dozen albums and EP's matching (frequently) melancholy neo-psychedelic atmospherics with mystical subject matter, and Willson-Piper has, along with lead singer Kilbey, been a constant in their two-decades-deep career. Much of their success should be attributed to his ability to float just the right color of aura to their formidable mood-making; it's tough to imagine the smoldering majesty of Church classics like 1985's "Myrrh", 1988's "Antenna", or 2003's "Sealine" without Marty's sublime textures. Then, of course, there's the perennial crowd-fave of "Spark"--- the taut, sneering Mod stomper from 1988's Starfish (Arista) gave the band's usual backing-vocalist a truly inspired turn at the lead mic. Two particularly fascinating recent-additions to the band's catalogue--- 2004's El Momento Descuidado and 2007's El Momento Siguiente (both Liberation Music)--- both offer exquisite "unplugged" revisits to career-highlights, and here, free of feedback and pedal effects, one can gain a whole new appreciation for his intricate guitar-work. Perhaps they also had an effect on the recording of Nightjar, as this new solo jaunt seems to share a kinship with the lush folk ambience of both albums. Granted, the disc does indeed have its electric moments--- it even occasionally rocks out in that slow purposeful grind associated with latter-day Church recordings--- but it's easy to imagine Nightjar as a younger, rougher-around-the-edges sibling to the Momento twins.

]]> Much praise must be given for Willson-Piper's vocals; his warm troubadour burr is perfectly suited for the rich canopy of violins, cellos, and woodwinds which frequently surround his engaging meditations and rousing folk-rock. It's also considerably different from that of his bandmate; whereas Kilbey's delivery tends to be well-versed in ethereal detachment, Willson-Piper feels distinctly more earthbound. Kilbey would hover mid-air while recalling his latest spiritual awakening, while Marty would pull up a chair and spin a yarn about his latest romp--- therein lies the difference. This doesn't merely hold true in regards to vocal style; the same analogy could be said for lyrical content as well. Nightjar speaks in earnest tones and with emotional directness--- take "I Must Have Fallen," for example. Amidst ringing acoustic guitars, fluid piano lines, and curling string-section tendrils, he returns to a simple but disarming admission" "I must have fallen in love with you." Accompanied by the sweet, pillow-soft harmonies of the Mood Maidens, these quiet moments of do-or-die are downright breathtaking. The similarly striking "Lullaby For The Lonely"--- a gentle violin-filigreed lilt offering the wistful refrain "can't you feel yourself falling apart"--- almost makes teary-eyed solitude sound like a lovely place to be, thanks to its ravishing orchestration.

Album opener "No One There" is the sort of slow-unfolding epic so closely identified with The Church, thanks to its rolling tom rhythm and intricate webs of electric guitars. Augmented by the occasional flare-up of horns--- or are those synths imitating horns?--- the song surges and swells with the same music-as-force-of-nature intensity often offered as opening statements on Church albums. "Feed Your Mind" and "High Down Below" are both strident folk-rock rambles which carefully balance bright-eyed optimism and been-around-the-block realism, and "A Game For Losers" is a flawless late-night drunken cobblestone-stumble set a-swaying by the romantic chug of Parisian-caf� accordion and a lone rooftop-serenading trumpet blowing away in the distance. "I'm a devil's apprentice/ doing a sentence/ with a pain that I can't even feel," he raves and slurs over the wobbled-gospel of a choir of boozy angels, and I'll be damned if I didn't catch a flash or two of early Leonard Cohen casting a leering eye through the haze of glorious inebriation.

No vids yet from Nightjar, but here's:

Marty Willson-Piper, "She's King" (1989)

MARTY WILLSON-PIPER WITH THE MOOD MAIDENS
Sun/May 4, 8 p.m., $20
Great American Music Hall
859 O'Farrell, SF
(415) 885-0750

Smells like imposter rock

2008-05-01T01:26:21Z

By Justin Juul

Rock and Roll bands are rad and all, but truth be told, I’d usually rather just listen to their music on my iPod. That said, I still crave a good show every now and again, The thing is, since the urge to go out on the town strikes so rarely, I’ve become rusty at the whole procuring-concert-tickets-on-time thing. I always miss my favorite bands when they pass through because I either log on to ticketmaster too late or I mistakenly think no one else gives a shit and I’ll be able to buy tickets at the door.

No big deal, really. Most of the bands I’d actually pay to see are all dead, or too old to look at, anyway. Which is why I think cover bands are where it’s really at. I mean, why pay a million dollars for the Motley Crue reunion, when you can pay ten dollars to see dead on impersonations of Ozzy Osbourne, Tesla, Whitesnake, and Motley Crue all at the same time? You just can’t ignore the economic value of cover bands, but the best part about them is that they only play the classics. No more sitting through Tommy Lee’s lame ass DJ set just to hear Shout at The Devil. No more wondering if Ozzy’s gonna sing Ironman. At a tribute show, you get to hear the good shit straightaway and then you just move on to the next awesome band.

Most tribute shows feature three to four bands in one evening, which is great, but there’s a show coming up in the first week of May during which you’ll get to hear almost all of your favorite buttrock anthems. It’s Lynda Mortenson’s Second Annual Cinco De Mayo Bash , with tributes to Tesla, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Dio, Motley Crue, and more. Rock out with your cock out. Jam out with your clam out. Get ‘er done.

Lynda Mortensen Presents The Second Annual Cinco De Mayo Bash
May 3rd, 2008. 5:00 pm – 2:00am
Free Until 9:00pm, $3.00 after 9:00pm
Saint James Gate
1410 Old County Road, Belmont, CA.
(650) 592-5923

I hear a symphony named Kimya Dawson

2008-05-01T00:53:27Z

By Alex Felsinger

When the Moldy Peaches became increasingly popular in the '90s, Kimya Dawson decided she wanted out. She hoped to avoid the mainstream music industry and its managers, bookers, and publicists. Her band-mate Adam Green continued within that realm, and has even been known to sell-out stadium concerts in Europe. Dawson, however, latched onto the growing global do-it-yourself punk scene, booked her own shows, and released all her albums on small, independent labels.

In the past, Dawson has always performed in smaller Bay Area venues. Two years ago, I booked a show for her at a Haight Street coffee house that could barely seat 40 people, but it was canceled at the last minute along with the rest of her tour.

Then Juno happened. It put Dawson back in the spotlight, even more than before. Her last stop in the Bay Area, at 924 Gilman Street, reflected an attempt to hold on to her underground ethos. But when it sold out in less than an hour, it was clear (at least for the time being) that she'd outgrown the facilities that the Bay Area punk scene has to offer.

So, a couple months later, what was the next logical step? Maybe the Independent? Slim's? Nope -- Dawson was asked to play the Herbst Theatre. Yes, the famous seated venue where the United Nations Charter was signed in 1945, a place typically reserved for classical music performances, theater, and dance.

A spoonful of Kimya Dawson helps the Juno hype go down

But Dawson's down-to-earth demeanor turned the room's paneled mosaics into finger paintings and shortened the figurative distance from seat-to-stage to mere feet. She knew that she was out of place, and she didn't mind saying so. "I've never played a show in the Bay Area that cost more than five dollars," she said to the crowd, who'd paid $20 per ticket. "Next time, it'll be free."

]]> For the first few songs, Dawson hardly opened her eyes, and was noticeably nervous to be performing at such a large, ornate venue. But mid-set she brought a few friends and children (including her 2-year-old daughter Panda Delilah) on stage for a handful of brief songs. She plucked at her acoustic guitar as the kids banged a toy piano and drums. They performed rough renditions of songs from her upcoming children's album, Alphabut.

After the diversion into children's tunes, Dawson seemed more relaxed. At one point, after fumbling the intro to a song, she joked, "All my songs are the same. I get confused." She's right; her songs often do follow the same ebb-and-flow melody, but as her simplified thumb-struck guitar and scratchy voice echoed off the theater's high walls to the balcony, the audience sat with quiet observance like Dawson alone held the power of a symphony.

Some of the collective animals in Kimya Dawson's Alphabut

Near the end of her set, she poked fun at the atypically older audience, joking that someone would tell her after the show, “Thank you for playing a show just for the elite! I'm sick of those heathens who usually go to your shows.”

The crowd laughed, and she started another song, which included the line: "My mom would say 'I hope someday you get paid for being Kimya Dawson.'"

Lazer BASSics -- vids

2008-04-30T21:05:37Z

In this week's breathless Super Ego clubs column, I gush over the lazer bass sound coming out of Montreal-SF-LA and blowing my mind-woofers lately. Below are some of the sites and sounds -- but first, please enjoy this frikking hilarious mashup vid that makes me feel really weird

I LOVE LAZER BASS (BEAMZ System Remix) by Snalepa

Now, on with the shower ...

50 Cent, "I Get Money" (Lazer Sword remix) video remix by Lonnie Gallegos

Lunice x Lazer Sword, "Gucci Sweatshirt"

]]> Ghislain Poirier's wacky/hot vid "Don't Smile"

Glitch Mob in Boulder, Sept 2006

Ghislain Poirier, "Podcast"

Sixtoo of Megasoid doin' it for radio in Montreal

And here's a pretty great mix Ghislain Poirier did for Pitchfork last November:

Working it out with Les Savy Fav's Tim Harrington

2008-04-28T17:57:21Z

By Duncan Scott Davidson

For the rest of this interview, go here.

When I call Tim Harrington, he’s in a work meeting at VH1. I agree to call back in 45 minutes. When I call back in an hour, at 7 p.m. New York time, he’s still in the meeting: “Let me just say one thing…” he says to his coworkers, and throws in a final idea before he returns to the phone call.

SFBG: Do you want me to call another day or something? It’s cool.

Tim Harrington: I Don’t want to waste your time calling twice. Let’s do it right now. I just officially declared my day professionally over.

SFBG: What was that high tension meeting about?

TH: I work at VH1.

]]> SFBG: What do you do there?

TH: I do graphics. I do a bunch of graphic design, but I also do… stuff. I’m trying to do more stuff that’s like interactive TV type things, making things where you can go to the Web site and design the opening for a show or something. Or having things were people are uploading videos and voting for the top ones.

But I’ve only been here for a little bit, and everything hasn’t happened yet.

SFBG: And how is that working out with the band being on tour?

TH: It’s OK. Things are pretty worked out.

Right now, in the long interim between the last full-length and this one, we’ve been retooling the band so that it fits into our lives as a whole. Two years ago I was either on tour, or sitting around waiting to go on tour again, and now I think we’ve sort of manipulated our band’s life so we can treat it as unprofessionally as we’d like. Which sounds somewhat loadedly sarcastic, but I think we formed the band in a regular ‘90s style just ‘cause we wanted to go play some gigs and stay at people’s houses and see their record collections.

But now our motivation is more the pleasurable part of playing shows, writing music, and being in a band. And less, “Boy, what if less people come to the show this time because we didn’t tour heavy enough?”

SFBG: When was the last full-length tour?

TH: Oh, I don’t know. Years ago. We did go in some tours in, like, Australia - exotic locales - for longer periods of time.

I think we were touring extremely heavily for a long time. And I think we have got the vibe and the spirit of showing up to a city the third time in a year, playing even at the same place, feeling like “Oh, this is gonna be awesome! We’re going to do this and that different,” and audiences had gotten inured to it, had gotten a little bit used to the operation. Definitely we stopped for what we want as a band, and what we want as performers. I think increasing the scarcity makes the whole thing work better.

SFBG: I noticed that there’s not station-to-station United States tour happening. Is that going to be scheduled, or are you guys going to do a couple cities here and a couple cities there?

TH: Cities here and there, I think. Guerrilla touring. Where will we show up next? It keeps the atmosphere at our shows really fun. We always have a good time even when we’re touring normally, but doing it more spotty makes the thing more crazy and fresh. I think our band is now operating in a neat way, but it’s pretty unconventional.

SFBG: Is that why you guys called the hiatus? Was it becoming a job?

TH: Yeah, that was a big part of it. It was really hard to explain without sort of tearing the whole thing apart and putting it back together again. Saying, “we’re just not going to go. We’re not doing a support, opening band slot for three weeks. We don’t care. We’d rather play shows - cherry-pick.” It’s the best way to tour, but totally unprofessional. We’re not playing a show if it doesn’t seem like something that seems fun to be doing.

SFBG: You make it sound like it’s some horrible thing.

TH: No, no, no, I think it’s an excellent thing. I say “unprofessional,” but - without being total hater, I defy the professionalism that’s invaded music.

SFBG: You’re not trying to be some kind of music career climber, like, “We’re going to open for the White Stripes so Les Savy Fav can be huge.”

TH: The band is a completely static operation. It’s completely separated from any kind of “you have to do this,” or “you ought to do this.” It’s entirely based on what pleases its members. The band exists for the pleasure of its members. Which I think is a little bit radical.

SFBG: Hedonistic.

TH: When we started there still was like, no prospect. No potential. You formed a punk band or an indie band just ‘cause you were really into other ones and decided “I’ll do it myself.”

I think now there’s a lot more new potential for a band to be like, “Oh, I’m going to start this band, and it’s a reasonable expectation that I can make some kind of money, living, or career out of this.” Whereas for us, even coming in on the tail end of - in the late ‘90s - on the tail end of a, you know, if you wanted anyone to hear your music, or if you wanted to even find out if you were good or not, you had to go on tour. There was no other way. You couldn’t afford to make enough tapes to mail to the whole world.

SFBG: And now people can just blow up on the internet. Like OK GO.

TH: Yeah, so, in that way there’s a lot more potential. I think Syd running French Kiss, he’s definitely seen an amazing upturn in the amount of management bands have. Even very small bands having a really considerate manager who’s making sure things go right.

It’s weird. Even now the idea of having a legit manager just seems absurd. The band operating in an unprofessional, inconsistent way is par for the course of being a punk band.

SFBG: I wasn’t really going to ask this, but it’s somewhat apropos with your mention of people forming bands to be successful - you don’t really fit the paradigm of an “indie rock frontperson,” which is to say a really skinny kid with floppy hair and eyeliner. When you guys first got together, did that ever bother you? It seems like you either enjoy it, or…you don’t care, obviously.

TH: I like it. In some ways it’s always protected us. There’s no scenario where our band sells out in a commercial way, because of me. Unless we can get someone to lip-synch for me, or not take photos. It helps you not make a mistake about what you’re in it for. I’m not saying that bands with all the members being extraordinarily handsome, some of them - there’s no reason why they don’t know what they’re in it for, but it’s easier to lose focus when other people are like, “We can help you do that, easily, with your hunky looks.”

SFBG: Have you ever been, “Well, I don’t look like a lead singer…”

TH: My parents weren’t too into music, and I wasn’t too into music, until I heard hardcore. And from there forward, the looks of a band were really secondary. For one, when you’re listening to really small regional bands, you can’t really tell what they look like. Initially, I couldn’t tell what they looked like in the shitty, photocopied zine. Whether they were good looking or bad looking had no bearing.

It basically was like, the punkers in high school were getting head-butted and were the biggest losers. You know, it’s like skateboarding culture. No one was like, “God, these skateboarders are really cute.” Like, a couple weird people thought skateboarders were really cute, but most people thought they were annoying and lame.

SFBG: Which brings us to the whole underground thing being prettied-up and marketable now. Certainly more than when you guys started in the ‘90s, it seems that the image is concocted with the band and it’s on the Internet instantly.

TH: No, things are gelled. Ten years before us, I can’t even understand how people booked a tour. Or before that even, stories of Black Flag booking a tour, and there’s no clubs to play your band, you just start cold-calling people.

We qualify as some of the last late bloomers of that scene. You know, booking a tour where you’re just randomly sending e-mails to people’s houses who you’ve heard have good taste and maybe they’ll have a party for you. I don’t think it happens as much. It got gelled because now, regional scenes don’t really exist as they used to, because people have access.

I think the early ‘90s with Seattle and Chicago and all these different regions where suddenly people were like, “Oh, they like this here, and it’s crazy down in Texas…,” and different towns having a different aesthetic was the beginning of self-awareness and self-packaging. Which, I mean, the packaging has made for some awesome bands, but it’s also made for some super-sucky ones.

SFBG: On the new record, the song “The Year Before the Year 2000,” you talk about the whole Y2K thing. In 1999 when everyone was worried about the computers crashing from the extra zero. It seems so naïve and quaint now. Because after 2000, there was September 11, Afghanistan and Iraq, the whole bird flu thing, global warming, and now the economy is in the dumps. Do you think doomsday is actually a possibility of some sort, or it’s just marketing?

TH: That song expresses my thoughts about it, which are, if there’s a doomsday, it’s gonna be a real long one.

I think that there was a high in ’99, where all we had was the Y2K thing to go for. There was this idea like, “Smoke up, man, ‘cause there’s no point.” You know, smoke everything, drink everything, we might as well finish everything here, because it’s all gonna go to waste when the world ends. The idea of Prince calling you to party with abandon because it’s 1999: it’s a lot easier to party with abandon when you think there’s no tomorrow when you’ll have a hangover and pay the piper.

This is also analogous to our band itself - to maintain a level of attachment, of engagement, that’s like what Prince calls for in “1999.” To maintain that level in a situation where it’s interminable, it’s a much tougher call. There’s also this sense of leaving the party early and then finding it got really awesome after you left. Or like, you die, and your spouse finds another lover.

No one wants to think that - you want everyone to die at once. You want the party to end with you. In 1999 there was this sense of like, “Dude, the world’s going to be over and we’re the last ones there. We don’t have to worry about things getting way worse because of things we did, or things getting way better and being like, shit, I wish I’d have been alive for an extra 50 years for when the spaceships took us to Mars.”

It’s harder to be like, “You know what? This is where you are. And when you die, everything’s going to keep going. The world’s going to find another lover to fuck and forget entirely about you.” It’s hard to be like, “That’s not going to make me any less passionate.” Not letting it get you down…

SFBG: Do you think people are constantly latching onto the next big doom thing? Now it’s global warming. I mean, there was that bird flu thing - what happened to that?

TH: Absolutely. Because it’s much easier to be like, “The sky is falling! The world is going to be over. Pack up your shit, finish your lunch, and get ready to die.” The world is not going to be over. Every little thing you do is going to have a repercussion that can play out for all of infinity.

I don’t know. I’m just a little nihilistic in my sense that there’s a stasis in the world. The world right now is as brutal as the medieval world was, as the caveman world was. There’s just as many assholes as there are nice people, there’s just as many…

SFBG: That we’re not really evolving morally or spiritually?

TH: Yeah, but that’s not a bad thing. That doesn’t mean as individuals you can’t go for the gold, reach for the stars. It’s easier to inveigh and complain against the entire world. Everyone I know can dedicate their entire lives to certain changes, and only the ones that were most immediate to them would be where impact was made.

Like, in our generation, we could create peace. Then we die, and our kids create war again. If you are a peaceful person, then maybe you could possibly have a peaceful kid.

SFBG: I was looking at the lyrics to the record, and it seems that they have a kind of Nietzschean, übermensch kind of tone to them. Not in any Aryan superman kind of way. Like in “Patti Lee,” where it says, “We used to be gods/ Now we’re so plain.” And in “What Would Wolves Do?,” and in “The Lowest Bidder,” especially - this idea that we’ve sold ourselves short and bought into a lesser existence.

TH: I do think that’s true, but I definitely think that it’s an individual thing.

I think that’s a signature element in our band’s atmosphere. It’s not a Polyphonic Spree kind of optimism, it’s more, kind of seeking out the bottom and changing your perspective, rather than changing situations or ignoring them. The conversation has taken a turn for philosophy, I think…

SFBG: Talk about the video contest for “The Equestrian.” Was that your idea?

TH: The band lays claim to all ideas. Where we came from musically, the idea of making a music video is just kooky, you know? When I look in the mirror at our band, I don’t see, for better or for worse, I don’t see a band in 2008 with, you know, whatever number of fans, and people buying our records and listening to us, and someone interviewing me.

I see a punk band playing in a basement, like just dudes. And so then, the idea of making a video has always seemed weird to us. And whenever we come up with ideas for videos, they’re always so contrived and conceptual that they’re impossible to execute.

SFBG: But you guys met at the Rhode Island School of Design. So you’re obviously visually oriented in some way. You would think videos would be part of your get-down.

TH: We’ve had people make videos for us, and we’ve done videos of ourselves. I’d rather make a short movie than a video. I don’t know if you ever saw on YouTube, we made a fake, joke documentary when we played this Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem show in New York last summer.

SFBG: What’s that called?

T: It’s called Les Savy Fav’s Big Break.

Basically, we booked this show, and then like all of the sudden my sister, who has no interest in the band, and coworkers who nothing about my band all of the sudden were going, “Wow. Boy, guys, I guess they’re on the way up.” We’re not on our way in any direction. So, based on my sister-in-law saying “Holy kamoley, this is big, “ we made this video where we all pretend it’s our big break.

That’s what is interesting to us. The music’s the music, and visual design is visual design. I’m a little more passionate about album cover art, and our T-shirts and things like that. I think music video...especially because the tropes of music video don’t move me, or us…so the idea having your fans, like.... We can’t decide on a music video. We couldn’t decide on actual, functioning language for the name of the band. We definitely can’t settle on a music video.

SFBG: Who voted on the winner? Did you guys vote for the winner?

TH: No, it subtly did it by itself. We just said whatever video had the most views multiplied by the number of stars that people had given it.

SFBG: What do you think about that the song is so overtly sexual and it has a little kid singing it?

TH: I think it’s totally perfect. I wish that we could somehow invert the paradigm of violence and sex in the media, so that as much brutal violence as you can see on TV, instead you could see that much passionate sex. So I don’t see anything wrong with that. On that note, a little girl dry-humping a toy pony to a completely sex song…

SFBG: In a very Madonna-esque, “Like a Virgin” way.

TH: Yeah, but if it was the exact same thing with her running around with a machine gun, people wouldn’t even think twice about, “Isn’t it weird that it’s a kid?”

SFBG: Do you think that you end up with people who really like listening to your albums, but don’t like seeing you because the find it dissonant or something?

TH: Well, maybe. I think live performance sort of begs to be dismissed. From the way I look to the way I perform weirdly undercuts what everyone’s doing musically?

SFBG: Has the rest of the band ever been bothered by that? Or even pointed that out, like, “Would you mellow out?”

TH: No. Everybody likes it. It’s something we’re totally aware of and I feel like we’ve cultivated. At the same time it’s definitely weird.