Postcards from the Pit: Father John Misty / La Sera / Jeffertitti’s Nile, Bowery Ballroom, 10/24/12

My post-show summary of Jeffertitti’s Nile was that they were loud and swirly, but pretty, and on reflection I think that sums them up pretty well. Their songs were almost entirely instrumental, and, were, well, psychadelic kaledeiscopes of notes. And yes, that is Father John Misty you see perched behind their drums; he was sitting in with them for the tour.

 
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The second opener was La Sera. They started out kind of sweet and twee and then somewhere around song two or three abruptly kicked into gear, sprouted some harder edges and jumped several notches on my approval matrix. They also got bonus points for a partial cover / interpolation of an Elvis Presley song, because there really should be more punk/rockabilly Elvis covers.

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And then Father John Misty (J. Tillman) re-appeared, having apparently briefly decamped to Tom Petty Fest and found it wanting. Here’s what I’m going to tell you about his set: what you hear on the record is what you hear live.

He did some jazz-hands and a lot of shimmy-shake and hit all of those notes in achingly beautiful style, with occasional breaks for snarking on the Tom Petty Fest and other miscellaneous rambling. It was obnoxious and beautiful and hilarious and I can’t wait to do it again at Webster Hall when he comes back in January.

Other notes: Jeffertitti Moon returned the sitting-in favor and played guitar during Tillman’s set.
 

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Candidate, Psychic Dissonance from the Unself


 
Do not be fooled by the title of this record. It might sound terribly heavy and serious, but really it’s a collection of jams that stretch across the mellow-bouncy spectrum. There’s some fuzz but no drag, which is an intriguing change of pace, and draws me back to it over and over again.

For example:
 

 

 
Candidate is: Cedric Sparkman (Vocals), Laurence Adams (Lead Guitar), Jason Matuskiewicz (Bass), Chris Infusino (Drums) and Justin Craig (Guitar, Synth), and they are from Brooklyn.

They survived New York’s recent Weather Event unscathed, but the studio where they recorded the record – Translator Audio – was completely destroyed.

To encourage donations to hurricane relief, they will be giving a free copy of the record to anyone who sends them an email with the subject line “I donated.” They solemnly swear no spam shall be forthcoming, only delicious music.

Mosey West, Merica and Vaca Money

Mosey West are: Mike McGraw (vocals, bass), Adam Brown (vocals, guitar, harmonica), Matt Weitz (drums, piano) and Cody Russell (Pedal Steel/Banjo/Dobro), they are from Fort Collins, Colorado, and they play some A++ folk/rock.

They have two EPs out right now, Merica and Vaca Money, both of which are – for a limited time only! – available for free at bandcamp.

Some highlights / personal favorites of mine:
 

 

 

 

Old English, We’ve Been Here Before


 
A song for all those times you knew better, but didn’t care. Or, a brief essay on how new and interesting pain is sometimes also old and familiar pain, hearts and flowers edition, by Old English.
 

Postcards from the Pit: The Darkness / The Dirty Pearls / Sweatheart, 10/22/12

This show fell into the time period I refer to as “Halloween or Tuesday?”, in which, due to New York’s ah, vibrant populace, it is sometimes hard to tell if the person / group of people wearing what appear to be costumes are on their way to/from a Halloween party, or if they customarily rig themselves out in, say, top-hats, tails and corsets just to make a quick run up to the store.

So when Sweatheart came out in their vaguely Medieval-looking outfits, you could probably see the Hmmm thought bubble floating above the crowd. I wasn’t really sure but was willing to come down on the side of Halloween. (I was also wondering what The Darkness would come up with as Halloween costumes.)

As soon as the next band came on, though, it became apparent that we were not at a Halloween show, and snakeskin bodystockings, furry cuffs and monk robes were just Tuesday for Sweatheart. (Or Sunday night, as the case may be.) I appreciate that kind of ridiculousness in a band. They had excellent tunes, too, raunchy and hilarious in equal measure and driven by big crunchy riffs. And to top it all off they had a puppet playing the keyboards:
 

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The Dirty Pearls were next, and they swung the pendulum back a hair or two in the direction of Very Serious Heavy Metal. They also had great tunes, including a particularly good ballad. (Heavy metal love songs are my weakness, yes they are.)
 
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And then it was time for The Darkness. I really love The Darkness. They have all of the things I love(d) about glam metal – sing along choruses, shredding, big riffs, ridiculous outfits – and they manage to, I don’t know – revive? celebrate? acknowledge? – the genre in a way that’s playful, knowing, and funny but not mocking. Attending their show is a genuine joy, from overhearing serious discussions about Poison in the line to joining the crowd in singing along to a A Thing Called Love.
 
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Postcards from the Pit: JJAMZ and Beast Patrol, the Studio at Webster Hall, 10/19/12

One of these years I will get myself together and actually acquire a CMJ pass. This year was not that year. That said, while I only saw two CMJ sets, they were very good sets.

The event I attended was the CAA Showcase in the Studio at Webster Hall, and the first band was Beast Patrol, from Brooklyn. Beast Patrol are much heavier, aggressive, and face-melty live than they are recorded. Seriously, the music they have on-line is a shadow of their live show. They can shred.
 

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Sample track:
 
Disbeliever by beastpatrol
 

And then, switching genres at CMJ’s traditional breakneck speed, it was time for JJAMZ, of Los Angeles, who were their usual delightful power-poppy selves:
 

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Sample track via their latest video, which I love because it is a lyric video with French subtitles that uses mashed up footage from B-movies and anti-drug PSAs from the ’50s and ’60s:
 

Postcards from the Pit: Fiona Apple / Blake Mills, T5, 10/16/12

This show was part pilgrimage, because I had never seen Fiona Apple play live before, and part penance, for largely the same reason.

The show started with music from her band, led by Blake Mills, who sang some of his delicately lovely pop songs and put on something of a master class in the fine art of the electric guitar:
 

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Here is what I learned, about Fiona Apple‘s shows: every single one of them is a cage match between the spirit of rock n’ roll and her demons. She does not so much sing a song as conduct a jazz cabaret-inflected exorcism.

It’s incredible and intense; I actually spent several long stretches standing mostly still, eyes closed, just letting the chords bounce and crash around my head while her voice – her big, brazen, smokey, flexible, magnificent voice – washed over me.

I am, as usual, completely useless with things like set lists. I recognized several from The Idler Wheel, including Every Single Night, Daredevil, Anything We Want, Left Alone and Fast As You Can, but what really defined the evening for me was the song she didn’t play: Criminal.

I heard some people near me calling out for it, and they were doubtless disappointed when it was not forthcoming. I, on the other hand, was both relieved and pleased. It’s not that I hate the song. It’s that watching the video she made for it – the raw misery on her face – makes me feel sick and sad and wish I had a time machine so I could go back and pull her out and away and give her a blanket and a warm beverage.

And this might be faulty logic, but on some level, its absence from the set list suggests to me that there is at least one demon she’s beaten and one battle she no longer has to fight. That, and the secret triumphant smile she flashed at us as the last notes faded into the woodwork, were the true highlights of the night.

 

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Postcards from the Pit: Johnny Hallyday, Beacon Theater, 10/7/12

The last time Johnny Hallyday played a show in New York was in 1962. He was on a cruise ship (!) and Jackie Kennedy (!!) was in the audience.

This time around he was on dry land and I don’t know if there were any luminaries lurking in the Beacon or not. Probably, I guess; New York is that kind of town.

I was there because I’ve been conducting some extremely idle and non-scientific research on the subject French rock and roll, from which I learned that Hallyday is France’s equivalent / answer to to Elvis Presley, and I wanted to see what he was all about.

The show began with some dramatic images, such as this one:

 

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Not long after I took that picture the wall in the middle crumbled dramatically and unleashed flames and flying skulls.

Then Johnny Hallyday walked out on stage:

 

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His band and back-up singers also appeared:
 
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I (still) don’t speak all that much French, so his song introductions and stage banter went completely over my head, but in rock concerts as with Mass, some things are universal and you can get by pretty well taking cues from your neighbors.

Most of my neighbors wanted to get up and boogie, which is kind of difficult in the Beacon. But we shook a tailfeather or two anyway.

About half-way through the show Hallyday switched gears, going from rock to rockabilly:
 

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In addition to his own tunes Hallyday also did some classic rock covers. I definitely recognized Fortunate Son – which lost a crucial bit of snarl in the translation from English to French – and also Great Balls of Fire.

It was, overall, a fantastic show.