Author: Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Graceland

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On our Great Southern Roadtrip, we trekked over to Graceland, home to Elvis Presley and his family from 1957 until sometime after Elvis’ death in 1977, after we visited Sun Studio. Personally, I was underwhelmed and a little weirded out by the experience. To my mind, it was a sad comment on the deadening excess that too often accompanies the success of music that is born out of raw passion.

Jennifer has a different take on it, so in honor of Elvis week, we give you Graceland…

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The first time I went to Graceland I was 17. It was during a particularly packed (and fraught) college visiting trip with my mother, an hour or two taken out to do something that probably wouldn’t result in mutual seething. At the time it seemed enormous and glittery and truly awe-inspiring, and I loved it. I got a small metal pink cadillac key-chain as a souvenir, which I have referred to as the “pink cadillac of freedom” ever since. It represented everything I thought college would be: my chance to get out of the house, to be glamorous, to be, essentially, not what I was, which was dumpy, suburban and square.

Of course that dream only partially came true. I got out of the house, but remained who I was (and I more or less still do), but I still have the pink cadillac in my pocket, to, I suppose, remind me to dream big. Or maybe that the road is there, and I just have to get in the car and get on it.

The second time I went to Graceland was almost approximately seventeen years later. To my adult eyes, Graceland seemed much smaller and far more pedestrian, and yet, readers, can I tell you a secret? I still love it.

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The Pool Table

I love it because it is glittery and awe-inspiring, frankly ugly in places, and kitschy in a way that is oddly comforting. I still feel incredibly peaceful when I step into the Jungle Room, even though it is not as Jungle-like as I remember, as if they had renovated it, which of course is not possible.

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The Jungle Room

Everything about the place is just a little bit overblown. It appeals to the part of my heart that also loves Brandon Flowers (The Killers) for wearing his sequins unironically. If you’re going to be a rock star, if you’re going to glitter, best to do it in a gold suit:

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But on a more sober, detached note, it’s a little sad to walk past the movie posters and the platinum records and feel the narrative shifting. To watch the years march on and the costumes become more ornate and have to start the internal countdown to the end of the story. Graceland itself doesn’t soften the blow; you walk out of a room full of awards and jumpsuits, it’s only a short path to the end:

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But even the stark finality of the grave seems somehow unreal. Elvis Presley died 33 years ago this week, and yet, he lives forever. At Graceland, in our hearts (yes, even mine), in the pages of supermarket tabloids, on the radio, and blasting out of the speakers at beach bars. His spirit is still backstage at dirty rock clubs everywhere, hair slicked back and ready to walk out on stage to swivel his hips, make the rafters ring and the girls swoon. He’s bigger than life, he’s rock n’ roll, he is, indeed, the King, and Graceland is his castle.

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— Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Newport Folk Festival, Part II

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And here’s part two of Jennifer’s Newport odyssey.

Day 2

I had kind of had my fill of the festival crowd the day before, so on Sunday I was a terrible musical correspondent and spent the morning wandering around Newport looking at historic homes. The Mansions, as they are called, are the former vacation “cottages” of various 19th century robber barons. This is the back yard of the one called The Elms, and Louis XIV would feel right at home, not least because they have some of his wifes’ pillows in a case in their upstairs hallway:

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In the afternoon I hopped a water taxi (can I tell you how much I LOVE water taxis? A lot!!) and went back out to the Festival for the Felice Brothers:

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James Felice, Ian Felice, and Christmas

They played an oddly dirge-heavy set, though they did do funky music-hall versions of both Greatest Show on Earth and Frankie’s Gun. When they were finished it was time for me to leave and wind my weary way back up to Providence to catch the train home.

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Daffodils outside the train station in Providence.

Final thoughts: I didn’t see enough of the acts to comment on the musical mix, but I can say both this festival and Clearwater back in June have been an interesting contrast the kinds of festivals I usually go to, like the original Lollapalooza (hi, I’m old), Bamboozle and Warped Tour. It was a little strange being surrounded by grown-ups and allowed to keep the cap for my bottle of overpriced iced tea and seeing people eating real food with actual utensils while lounging barefoot on the lawn in their folding chairs. All things considered, however, I’d do it again next year if there were bands playing that I wanted to see. Though I’d probably be marginally more sensible and make a long weekend of it.

— Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Newport Folk Festival, Part I

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Jennifer took a trip out to the legendary Newport Folk Festival and brought us back this two-part report.

Day 1

The first night of the festival, one of the topics of dinner conversation was Why are you here? Not in a mean way, but rather: what inspired you to make this journey? The best answer I could come up with was: Well, I got a wild hair . . . which was met with bemused humming and ended in a tangent on regional usage of the phrase. It’s essentially true, however: I went to Rhode Island for about 24 hours largely because back in February I squinted at the calendar and decided I could and it was there and why not?, and oh yes, there are some bands playing that I kind of like! And possibly also because the Internet has permanently changed my idea of what qualifies as a “local show.” Rhode Island! I can get there on the train! (And the bus . . . ) That totally qualifies as “nearby”!

My voyage to the Newport Folk Festival began before dawn on Saturday and included a brief (and accidental) detour to New London, CT. I missed A.A. Bondy’s set at the festival as result, which was distressing, but I consoled myself with a walk around town. There is a surprising amount of street art in New London, and a good deal of it has nautical themes. Here’s one of a whale, which stretches almost the entire length of a block:

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By WyLAND, 1993

My favorite one, though, is this one , because it is so delightfully bizarre. Anyway, after getting back on the train, I carried on to Providence, RI, where they were getting ready to set the canals on fire (aka WaterFire ; I’m tempted to go back in October and see it for myself) and then got down to Newport in time to catch a little bit of Calexico:

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Calexico

I got there in time to hear them power through a couple of songs, including Guero Canelo, which is one of my favorites. Between bands there was peoplewatching, and also punks with horns and drums:

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What Cheer?

Next up was Andrew Bird:

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He played some bits and pieces of things that, he said, “might be songs someday” and that was when I wandered off to the beach:

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I have to say, listening to Scythian Empires with my feet in the water and the sun on my face was a highlight of the afternoon. I came back up to the main area for John Prine, who brought the whole thing back around to a more old-fashioned country-folk place:

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And then later I went for a guided tour of the town:

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This statue on the main drag CREEPED ME OUT. Apparently they put socks on the feet in the winter.

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The oldest sailors’ bar on the Newport waterfront and allegedly home of the best chowder in town. I had some, and it was delicious.

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Buskers by the creepy statue; they were pretty good, so we stayed a few moments to listen to them.

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Jazz on the way to the Coffee Grinder; there’s a public seating area at the end of the pier where one can sit and enjoy the breeze and watch the boats in the harbor.

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Bridges and boats by night, from Bowen’s Wharf.

I finished off the day with some delicious ice cream, and then went back to the hostel and crashed.

–Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: The Lemonheads, and a vast amount of feelings

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Jennifer has promised a forthcoming post on the Newport Folk Festival, but first she has some feelings about the dreaded “nostalgia act” vibe to work out.

Internet, in the last two weeks I have, among other things, seen the Gin Blossoms, Soul Asylum and The Lemonheads, and I have a lot of feelings on the subject that I’d like to discuss, but first I’d like you to meet two fantastic newer bands: The Shining Twins and The Candles.

These are The Shining Twins:

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Alex Weiss (bass), Marisa Kreiss (drums), Xanax Aird (guitar, lurking in the background)


They were the first band at the Lemonheads show. I knew a little bit about them before I got there, enough that I had them in my mental “you should maybe check them out” file, and so I was excited to see them on the bill. I wasn’t too sure how I was going to feel about the music, because the two songs I had heard – I Hate You and Stix + Stonez – were towards the whinier end of the punk spectrum. I am pleased to report that they are a lot of fun live, and that any whininess was overpowered by their Ramones-inflected groove. I particularly enjoyed Gregory and Why Won’t You Walk Me Home From Avenue C?

They were followed by The Candles:

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They’re a little bit country but mostly rock and roll, and with three (!) guitars, a bass, two sets of keys and drums, there’s a lot of layers to their sound. Also, this is where some of my many feelings come in, they are beautifully congruent with the Lemonheads’ sound. But before I go off on the related tangent, here’s a picture of Evan Dando, weatherbeaten but unbowed:

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He sounded good, and made my evening when they played Into Your Arms. I couldn’t stay for their whole set, but what I did hear was well worth the wait, both the 20 years and the 3.5 hours. The Lemonheads was one of those bands I never, ever thought I would get to see, and so catching them in a tiny club was a particularly special treat.

Which I suppose is as good a segue as any to the tangent, which is: How Do You Solve a Problem Like The Support Bands? It’s something I have been contemplating lately, as various of my best beloved bands from my high school and college years are popping back up and heading out on the road, in some cases with each other. I could not be happier to see Soul Asylum and the Gin Blossoms together, in fact for my 14 –18 year old self, that practically qualifies as a dream-come-true tour. (Remind me to tell you about the time I planned an entire vacation inspired by Runaway Train, which involved an actual train ride that was later cancelled (the train ride, not the entire vacation) due to flooding in Iowa. I was 17, and there was definitely poetry involved.) But as much as I enjoyed it, I felt like it put some unnecessary limits on them: the burnished brass shackles of the “nostalgia act.”

Sure, they were really big a long time ago, in the 1990s, in those dark days before mp3s. Okay, their fanbase skews a little bit older. But their tunes have stood the test of time, and, most importantly, they are making new music. They are not getting up on stage and rolling through their hits, note-perfect: they’re jamming through fresh ideas. And I’m sitting on the balcony in a community theater, watching my fellow fans clap, stomp and sway along, hemmed in their seats while Robin Wilson hops from the stage to various risers and outcroppings, tambourine in hand, and I’m thinking, Someone needs to get these people a club tour.

This is partially a reflection of selfish desire, because I want to dance in the pit. But also I think it could work. Filling the club would be the easy part; the challenge is in selecting the right support band. The Lemonheads and The Candles worked well together; if I was designing a tour for, let’s say, the Gin Blossoms, I think I’d pick Matt Nathanson , or, drifting a little towards the more folksy-side, Cadillac Sky. I still haven’t decided who I’d pair with Soul Asylum, though their Minneapolis neighbors Motion City Soundtrack are on the short list, as are Hacienda .

— Jennifer

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Roadtrippin’: An annotated travel playlist with visual accompaniment

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This week, Jennifer treats us to some highlights from her roadtrip playlist along with various photos from our trip to Oxford, Mississippi. Bob Dylan seemed to be an underlying theme of our trip, beginning with some giddy, punchy conversation over dinner on the first night of our drive wherein Jennifer and I told Cam how Dylan had recently been picked up in a neighborhood in New Jersey where the apprehending officers did not recognize him.

I would also like to note that I was not party to the Lady Gaga song.

Selections from the roadtrip playlist, with annotations, and some photographs from the road:

1. Battle Stations, Brine and Bastards – I bought two roadtrip necessities in a truckstop somewhere in Ohio: a satin Peterbilt pillow, for napping in the back seat, and a radio converter for my iPod. This is the first song I cued up once we had everything set up. Brine and Bastards specialize in punk songs on topics of interest to pirates; this particular tune is one I use to get myself moving in the mornings.

2. What Are You Waiting For, Phantom Planet – This one is iTunes bonus track from the Raise the Dead record, and came up randomly on shuffle after Brine and Bastards. The lyrics say it all: We’ll drive for miles / we’ll drive across town / we’ll drive with all the windows down and Every turn we take / creates a different destiny. It reminds me of my first roadtrip on a warm early summer day in 1992, when, giddy with the end of the school year and having been given my mother’s car for the day, I gathered up my best friend and her brother and drove a whole thirty miles to Leesburg, Virginia, where we got ice cream and then came home.

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Art in the airport, Cleveland, OH


3. Fallen Angel, Poison – The first song I put on when it was my turn to drive. The part of Virginia I grew up in has a fair number of narrow, twisty, tree-lined streets. I particularly enjoyed driving them with this one cranked up as loud as possible. Every time I hear the opening chords I remember the joy of navigating tight turns and then gliding out onto the open road. And also the basso roar of the Volvo engine. I loved that car.

4. Adeste Fidelis, Bob Dylan – I put this one on as we were going from Sun Studio to Graceland. It’s from his 2009 Christmas record. I only made them listen to the first verse, which he does, in fact, sing in Latin. The whole idea of “Bob Dylan” and “Christmas record” is kind of mind-boggling, but it’s actually one of my favorite renditions of this particular song, mainly for his unfussy delivery. It is the antidote to every over-saturated saccharine carol ever recorded.

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Cam and April investigating a phone booth, Oxford, MS

5. Chameleon, Del Rendon and the Puerto Rican Rum Drunks – An entry from a (kind of) local band – Del Rendon was from Starkville, MS – this was another one I played on the way to Graceland. It’s kind of slow, but it isn’t a dirge. It has a sweet melody and sharp lyrics, one of my favorite combinations, and is a song that has kept me company on many journeys in the last couple of years.

6. Wake the Dead, Family Force 5: And then, on the other end of the spectrum, some sweet dirty Georgia crunk. I first encountered this band at Warped tour a couple of years ago, and they’ve been a staple of road-trip playlists ever since. They’re particularly fun to listen to when you have a big stretch of open highway in front of you.

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Animal skull in the Jungle Room, Graceland, Memphis, TN

7. Desolation Row, My Chemical Romance: Dylan purists, you may be horrified, but I love this version of this song, particularly the quasi-dueling guitar solos. I also find it very soothing in heavy traffic, or when trying to find my way through unfamiliar territory.

8. Bad Romance, Lady Gaga: I contrived to kill my phone the day we went to Holly Springs, and it wasn’t until we got to Louisville two days later that I could take it somewhere to try and get it fixed. I was hot, anxious, annoyed and bracing myself for dealing with the people at the cell phone store. I needed a little bit of swagger for moral support, which is basically this song in a nutshell.

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As seen from the parking lot following the screening of The Big Lebowski, Lebowskifest, Louisville, KY

9. Don’t Let Her Hold You Down, Michael Runion: This one floated up in the shuffle as we were making our way through the gentle rolling hills of north-west Kentucky towards Cincinnati. It was a quiet moment in the car; everyone else was asleep, or I thought they were, and outside the landscape was bruise-bright from recent rain. The mournful sweetness of the song fit in perfectly. It was a roadtrip Moment of Zen.

10. Bittersweetheart, Soul Asylum: This one also came up somewhere in Kentucky, though it may have been before Louisville, not after; I can’t remember anymore. Soul Asylum is another band that’s kept me company on numerous journeys over the years, particularly journeys that involved plunging into the unknown. It’s always a comfort to hear them coming out of the speakers.

–Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Sun Studio

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Today, Jennifer takes us on another leg of our Southern roadtrip: our visit to the legendary Sun Studio. I’ll post my own observation tomorrow, but we had to share Jennifer’s wonderful photos with you all.

On Tuesday of last week, we put the road back in road trip and voyaged up to Memphis to see Sun Studio and Graceland.

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It is no exaggeration to say that rock and roll as we know it began here in a ragged room on a run down corner in Memphis. Today it is both an active recording studio and a museum.

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This is a reconstruction of the office of Marion Keisker, the lady who recorded Elvis Presley singing for the very first time, and, more importantly, kept a copy of the recording to share with Sam Phillips. We got to hear it during our tour, a little bit scratchy and rough but undeniably The King. I felt a little bit like I did when I watched Streetcar Named Desire for the first time, having to remind myself how new and different his voice and presence would have been, how it would have been a kind of lightening strike.

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Some of the guitars lined up against the wall, which are, from what I gather, used by musicians who record in there at night, after the tour groups leave. The room is full of pictures of Elvis and also of other luminaries who recorded there – Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Bono – and I ultimately couldn’t decide if I thought that would be intimidating or encouraging for new acts.

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And finally, the drumset, surrounded by Elvis, and in the foreground, a mic that was used by numerous early artists at Sun, including, possibly, Elvis Presley. The guide had hauled it out for purpose of Photo Opportunities, which some of our fellow tour members indulged in, and others did not. It was an interesting moment, both for the people trying to recreate a very specific kind of magic with various levels of success, and the microphone itself. It is simultaneously one of the many props in the floating Elvisland that is Memphis, a relic, a simple piece of machinery, and a tangible piece of the history of the place that all of us could touch with our own hands. Look at it long enough, and you can almost hear him inhaling, getting ready to launch into Hound Dog, and set the girls’ hearts a-flutter.

— Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Courtney Love/Hole

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Jennifer has feelings about Courtney Love that she’d like to share with you.

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS, OKAY: Courtney Love

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I have not always had a lot of feelings about Courtney Love. Let’s just be blunt and honest: I first learned about her because I was a Nirvana fan and she was Kurt Cobain’s wife. I was dimly aware of Hole – bear in mind at this time (1992) the only music magazine I read was Circus, and I got the rest of my music news from MTV, and then mostly from Headbanger’s Ball — but I didn’t have any particular opinions about her or their music. Following the release of Celebrity Skin in 1998, I would develop an appreciation for their sound, though even then I only really listened to the title track, and that on the radio. I always meant to buy the record, but never quite got there.

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Getting back to Nirvana for just a minute: I can tell you where I was, when I got the news that Kurt Cobain was dead. I was 19, and in college. It was a beautiful spring day. The grass was a particularly vibrant shade of green and the air was cool on my face. I wasn’t surprised – how long had we been watching him struggle? — but I felt like I had been punched in the heart. And next to my grief for him was grief for her, suddenly the most famous (soon to be infamous) rock widow of my generation. Since then I have watched, with the rest of the world, as she exploded and imploded, rising and falling in various measures.

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Which slingshots us back to 1998, to a record I didn’t listen to until three months ago, and, which, once I had heard it all, I was perversely glad I had put it off. Love’s own grief and rage and terror is in every line and note of Celebrity Skin, and I’m not sure I could have borne that, in 1998. Even in 2010 it’s a little bit difficult to listen to; my heart still clenches at I had to tell them you were gone, because she did, and she paid bitterly for it, in many different ways.

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Which brings me to the new record and the band with new faces but the old name. Nobody’s Daughter is angry in some (different) ways, and contemplative in others. It is fierce and joyful and beautiful and sad all at once. As for the band, well, I have only ever seen Hole twice, both times this year, so again, let us be blunt and honest: these changes don’t bother me. But I wholly sympathize with the people who are enraged or disappointed (or both), or who may have other, more mixed feelings on the issue. I kind of feel the same way about the band currently calling itself Guns n’ Roses. I’m glad everyone involved is alive and well and making music but . . . that is not my Guns n’ Roses.

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That said, I am filled with a very particular kind of fierce joy, hearing Courtney Love sing again, hearing those big, loud, defiant, grungy chords rippling out through the speakers. My tiny black heart expands in a very specific way while she’s telling us mildly scandalous stories between songs, shutting down hecklers, and covering Closer for the express purpose of trolling Trent Reznor. Which, I would like to add, she did as a torch song, and blended it neatly into Man That Got Away by Judy Garland.

It’s not nostalgia – I am grateful, on a daily basis, to never have to be 20 ever again — as much as it is the delight of encountering a first love or an old friend in a new place. In 2008 I came back to being a rock fan after the better part of a decade spent away, and after two years in this sometimes baffling new musical reality, as much as I love the new sounds and the new faces, I retain a deep and abiding affection for the old ones, less seen but no less loved.

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And as for Courtney Love, all of this time that I didn’t really know her, I had missed her, and I didn’t realize it until I was standing in the pit last week. Now that she’s back, radiant and ascendant if periodically kind of wobbly, I hope her trajectory continues to be upwards, because I want to stand in the pit and sing with her again, and again, and again.

–Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Empires

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This week, Jennifer hangs out with familiar friends: loud guitars.

Looking back over my previous entries, I’ve been talking about a lot of pop music. This week I’m changing it up a little bit, and swinging the pendulum back towards my old familiar friend, rock and roll. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet Empires:

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Tom Conrad

They are from Chicago, but last week their tour stopped in New York, at the Studio at Webster Hall. The light was really, really bad; I actually got most of my best pictures while they were setting up.

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Sean Van Vleet

They have two records out — Howl and Bang — and they are both excellent. While I was watching them play I was thinking about how, exactly, I was
going to explain their sound to the Internet. The phrase that came back to me over and over again was “punch drunk love-affair” which, all right, that might be kind of insufferable (again – sorry!) but it’s the best I can do. To me they sound like afternoons spent wandering amid dark shelves covered in whispery plastic contemplating past misdeeds (My Poor Lover), hot summer nights punctuated by fireworks (Under the Bright Lights) —

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Ryan J. Luciani (drums) and Max Steger

— the point where you realize you’ve gone down the rabbit hole for someone (and don’t even care) (Voodooized), a bad love affair or a love affair gone bad (Damn Things Over), and post-disasterous romance roars of defiance and survival (Bang and Hello Lover). Their noise is a big noise, a solid one, like a big wave, but it’s also melodically interesting. And it doesn’t sound like anything else out there, on the radio right now. So if you want something new and big and raw and daring, you should check them out.

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Conor Doyle (bass) and Ryan J. Luciani

Finally, a special note for photography enthusiasts: the deluxe digital edition of
Bang comes with a “making of” video and over two dozen fabulous digital
photographs taken by Tom Conrad .

— Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Gold Motel, Travie McCoy, The Young Veins

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This week, Jennifer takes a break from shutterbuggin’ to give a run-down of some of the music she’s digging on currently.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ts-bT5y3QBg]

Gold Motel, Summer House

Summer House, the first LP from Gold Motel, incorporates songs from their self-titled EP, which was released earlier this year. Perfect in My Mind and Don’t Send the Searchlights have been in heavy rotation on my iPod since then, and having now heard the new songs, I expect We’re On the Run will be joining them in the future. Led by Greta Morgan (formerly known as Greta Salpeter, when she was with The Hush Sound) Gold Motel specializes in bouncy pop fun, though if you listen closely some of the lyrics have a bit of a melancholy edge. Still, this record is like summer camp for your ears, including both daring sun-drenched adventures and doomed summer romances.

Tour Status: Their tour with Skybox is currently winding down, but they will be playing two festivals in Chicago in July: The Great Illinois Performers Festival (July 10) and the Local Music Revolution Festival (July 11).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aRor905cCw]

Travie McCoy, Lazarus

Travie McCoy is the front man for Gym Class Heroes, and in the video above, he’s the one driving the car. This is his first solo effort, and is the record he made after a particularly rough year. Some of the songs are joyful and fun (Billionaire, We’ll Be Alright), and some of them are frankly kind of wrenching and hard to listen to (Don’t Pretend); so far my personal favorites are Need You and Superbad (11:34). I’m also developing a growing affection for Akidagain which includes references to G.I. Joe, the Wu-Tang Clan, and Groundhog Day. Overall I think I like it because it really does reflect the internal chaos of pulling yourself together after your life has been upended: some days are good, some days are bad, some days you just would like your most complex decision to be about what kind of ice cream you want for dinner.

Tour Status: Starting in July, he’ll be hitting the road with Rihanna and Ke$ha as part of the Last Girl on Earth tour.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgWP23DP5bY]
Maybe I Will, Maybe I Won’t, The Young Veins, live at Bonnaroo, by mym2c

The Young Veins, Take a Vacation!

When I went to their New York shows in April , they only had two songs out. They released several more through the late spring, and then the full record finally dropped earlier this month. (It’s currently streaming on their MySpace as well.) It is just under 30 minutes of 1960s-inflected beach rock-flavored tales of love and other misadventures. It’s actually kind of difficult for me to narrow down only one or two favorites, but new tracks I’m particularly fond of include Maybe I Will, Maybe I Won’t, Heart of Mine, and the iTunes bonus track, a cover of the Everly Brother’s Nothing Matters But You, which Ryan Ross and Z Berg (The Like) sing as a duet.

Tour status: Currently wending their way across North America with Black Gold and Rooney.

— Jennifer

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: The Like

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If Jennifer’s profile below of the Like intrigues you, you can listen to their new album at Spinner.

Reasons why I love The Like:

1. Snappy songwriting. I was initially hooked by Release Me, a subtle twist on a familiar trope, in which it is the girl begging the boy to let her go before she breaks his heart. I was further intrigued by Wishing He Was Dead, a song for women wronged everywhere, and, the other side of the same coin, He’s Not A Boy, simultaneously an appreciation of bad boys and a reminder that you can never, ever change them. (All of those songs are on their new record, also called Release Me, which came out yesterday.)

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Z Berg, at Maxwell’s, Hoboken, NJ

2. They do interesting things with percussion, from the drum intro to Fair Game — a dramatic, fast beat that expands (but doesn’t slow down) to meet the guitars and the organ – to the combination drums/handclaps that kick off Release Me. The drums are also strong in their early work; one of my favorite songs from their Are You Thinking What I’m Thinking? (2005) is June Gloom, mainly for the steady, rolling beat.

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Annie Monroe (far left) and Z Berg, Bowery Ballroom, New York, NY

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Laena Geronimo, Maxwell’s, Hoboken, NJ

3. In addition to the interesting drums, there are beautiful harmonies, with Z Berg periodically soaring over the rest of the band. Also, basically, all of their songs make me want to dance around the kitchen and sing along. I particularly enjoy the subtle modern bite of the lyrics next to the retro-sweetness of the music.

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Laena Geronimo, Bowery Ballroom, New York, NY

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Tennessee Thomas, Maxwell’s, Hoboken, NJ

4. Their whole-hearted commitment to ’60s style and glamour. Like their sound, their look is distinctive, different, and refreshing.

— Jennifer