Devon Banks sadly had some real photo work to attend to, so you're stuck with my clumsy fumblings. Which is a shame, as even Pitchfork bites her stuff. Above, Jedidiah Smith attracts onlookers' gaze while rocking out, tastefully.

So, two Fridays ago, the self-chosen few were treated to the latest, and probably greatest installation of my sporadic concert series, Neon Lights. I've loved all the shows we've put on, but this one had a certain kismet to it. A love for indie-pop, making it and listening to it, permeated every corner of Williamsburg's Glasslands Gallery that night. While these shows always exist in my head afterwards more as a music-video montage than a Frontline documentary, I've done my best to recount the happenings from my insider my booker's perch...

the Beets

Conversation I had with the Beets after they loaded in their gear:

"Is it OK if we go to sleep on the couches upstairs? Or would that make everything weird"

"I don't mind if it gets weird."

"Right on, man."

I have a chronic end-of-my-twenties syndrome right now where a disproportionate amount of the population look like teenagers to me, and the Beets fit squarely into that smooth-faced, indistinct block. But rather then making me feel decrepit, their opening set was alive with energy and good cheer, at least in fits and starts. Juan Waters' guitar, which looked like a sacred balsa wood artifact passed down from generation to generation, was prone to popping a string in times of great enthusiasm. There were several. Every word in a Beets' song is shouted, every sentiment an exclamation. But there's a weariness intrinsic in the songs as well. It's a bit of a puzzle. On the one hand, youthful exuberance, but with dreamy 60s melody hanging on every gang-shouted note. It's like they want to be a barnstorming garage band, but are made sleepy by the rote debauchery of current torchbearers like the Black Lips. I may not have them entirely figured out, but I am completely certain that they'll not stay under New York's fickle radar for long. "I was there" trainspotters, consider yourself on notice.

the Capstan Shafts

OK, so now I've met Dean Wells, seen him perform, and I'm still not quite convinced he's real. It's like the show featured a set from DB Cooper, or Bigfoot. In a bright white shirt, and with a shock of hair pointed starkly skywards, he seemed slightly more keyed up than the room's hipster denizens. Maybe it was just jitters, as this was something like the Vermont native's sixth show ever. The ratio of songs written to shows played will probably never reach even a lopsided 100:1, anyway. As a result, his set got off to a bit of a rocky start, with an oddly mic'ed amp causing feedback flare-ups and a vocals-light mix. Once fixed, I felt like the crowd still didn't know how to take him. The songs are so short and packed, that neophytes waiting for a chorus reprisal were confused that one never came. Had the songs been aborted? Naw, they just finished, with efficiency.

There were definitely Capstan Shafts diehards among the crowd though, myself included, and there was plenty for them to rejoice about in Dean's set (accompanied only by a sarcastic drummer). Euridice Proudhorn, which I've recently come to consider once of the best records this decade has produced, was represented by two of its utmost standouts, the sublime "Sleepcure Theory Advancer" and the nonsensically/nostalgically rockin' "61 Sideburns" (download both here). "Evelyn Halfstep," from the recent Miles Per Famine release was also warmly welcome. Polite college kids with a greater technological grasp of online obscurity mining than me called the names of tracks I'd never heard from the already fathoms-deep back catalog. Let's all pause to give a moment's thanks to the internet for once, noting a positive, nondestructive effect it's had on music. Thanks to its wires, buttons, and presumably towers of some sort, a man from Vermont, who releases album upon stellar album into a seemingly uncaring void can travel to New York to have the name of one of his gems called out to him, with little or no critical prompting. That's kind of neat, no? He took the kids' request, played it in 70 seconds flat, unplugged, and promptly disappeared. Seriously. I didn't see him again. As I imagine it, he walked out the front door into an empty street and promptly dissolved into a puff of smoke, only to reappear when another DIY concert promotion somewhere needs him desperately.

My Teenage Stride

I feel slightly like I'm retroactively ogling by putting up a big splash-page photo of My Teenage Stride's attractive bassist, Jenny Logan. But I mean she was there, playing (excellently, I might add). Truth be told, she's actually MTS' ex-bassist, and currently going forward with a promising project of her own, called Ribbons. MTS were down a man or two, though, so Neon Lights acted as a mini-reunion of sorts. Perhaps it was that special old-home feeling, or just that the economy of the band's pop songwriting is incapable of being translated in a less-than-tight manner, but MTS completely slayed. As the rhythm section locked in, songwriter Jedidiah Smith pulled a "pat your head while rubbing your belly" feat of pop derring-do. His guitar leads were rushing and excited, his vocals cool and measured. "How can his hands be on such a different wavelength from his pipes?" I drunkenly wondered. New Wave stunners like "To Live and Die in the Airport Lounge" and "Ears Lik e Golden Bats" made a huge impression on pals of mine who showed up on recommendation alone. I've played "Theme From Teenage Suicide" countless times in recent weeks, and its quality surprised me still. Maybe it's a byproduct of sporadic recent shows, but with this years' stellar self-released Lesser Demons EP receiving something approaching radio silence, it's quite possible that My Teenage Stride are New York's most underrated band. No one ever said that embracing Kiwi rock and Mark E. Robinson guitars was an easy road to fame and fortune, I guess.

the Pains of Being Pure at Heart

"I've never said this before, but, can I have a little less reverb..." said singer Kip Berman, early into the Pains of Being Pure at Heart's set, late in the evening. The band had carefully checked their golden mic (designed for "tweeverb" as Kip described it) behind closed doors, but perhaps he realized that there was only so much wistful romance a full room could stand before collectively breaking into tears, a massive group grope, or more likely both. Which is not to say that rollicking tracks like Slumberland single "Come Saturday" weren't dripping with lovely fuzz. It's their thing, you know? But what impressed me about the set is the transition the group seems to be making away from fey. Lyrically they're still smart and precious of course, but there's some guitar muscle under that cardigan. "Young Adult Friction" still seems like the band's breakout in waiting, and the urgent guitar breakdown mid-song only makes the snap back to sharp pop chorus all the more effective. It was a swell nightcap of a set all around. The kids are off to Sweden soon, but I've got further plans for them in this calendar year. Secret plans...

So sincere thanks to the bands for showing up and being excellent, DJs Marcus Parks (whose prime musical gig is drummer for the otherwise all-ladies Brooklyn band the Ingenues) and our own Prof. David Klein for lovingly providing their DJ selections while things were being sorted, and especially to all the tasteful folk who filled the room near capacity. I've got my work cut out for me in topping this one...

More pics are a click beyond...

Continue reading "Neon Lights Came, Was Rad, Finally Relented" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Did I mention this?

Here's a map to Glasslands.

A DJ Set by Numerology's own David Klein will greet you if you show up when doors open at 9.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tonight's the night. I've gven you previews and persuation related to the first three bands on tonight's Neon Lights bill at Glasslands Gallery in Brooklyn. The Beets will bring some ramshackle grage charm, the Capstan Shafts a fiercely intelligent, singular vision, My Teenage Stride has sharp edges played smoothly, but it's the Pains of Being Pure at Heart who bring the swoon. Head over heels in love with indie-pop as a genre and philosophy, POBPAH bring fierce intelligence and wit to their contributions. Plaudits have poured in from impressive commenters like the FADER, Dusted, the L Magazine, Stereogum, and Germany's apparently hipper version of Rolling Stone. Like any fuzzy pop band worth their salt, they are appreciated on a higher level in the UK, where they'll be opening for Peel show legends the Wedding Present on their upcoming tour. This is the last NYC show the Pains will play before heading back to the indie-pop mecca of Sweden. While they plan to return in winter, the land of herring and high cheekbones has permanantly ensnared stronger folk then they. Come tonight before its too late!

the Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "Young Adult Friction"

This most recent track from the band, slated for inclusion on their impending debut LP, is to my ear their best. The rhythm is winter-morning crisp, the vocal interplay between singers Kip and Peggy is gorgeous, and there's even a muscular guitar bridge. It sounds effortless and complex, at once. It also works the word "microfiche" seemlessly in to a story of library humping. It's sort of the perfect specimen of its type. Check this stanza; "I never thought I would come of age/ let alone on a moldy page/ you put your back to the spines/ and you said it was fine/ if's there's nothing really left to say."

the Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "Kurt Cobain's Cardigan"

While it would be uncharacteristic for the Pains to express their iconic love for Kurt Cobain and his shoulder-warming wardrobe, the cleverly take the next best tactic of aping Kurt's favorite band, the Vaselines. After an opening that gets the Pavlovian "Son of a Gun" juices flowing, Kip's "tweeverbed" vocals rush in to soothe the young, myopic, and lonely hearted. "It's the last night of our young lives, tonight." Well, at least until tomorrow...

the Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "A Teenager in Love"

If this one doesn't trigger a fey make out avalanche, I might be slightly disappointed. The remarkable thing here is the black humor, sincerely delivered, amidst a backbeat that would make Molly Ringwald do that one dance. The model for the success there is clearly Belle & Sebastian. They see B&S's confused protagonist, preoccupied with "S&M and bible studies," and raise them "a teenager in love with Christ and heroin." Not everyone's cup of tea, indeed.

--

So, the stage is set, the line-up elaborated on, the hours ticking away. If you haven't left town for the long weekend, I sincerely believe that this is the best show here tonight. Come, dance, drink, yearn desperately to make a connection with a foxy concert goer, and a) regret saying nothing, or b) feel guilty about your succesful dalliance. Go home and write a song about it. It's the indie-pop tradition. See you at 9.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The page above comes from indie-rock lifers mag, Magnet, who love the third band on our Friday Neon Lights extravaganza (Glasslands in Brooklyn, BTW) enough to include My Teenage Stride's record Ears Like Golden Bats in their "Top 20 Albums of 2007." They are far from the only ones smitten by the sharp ties and tunes of songwriter Jedediah Smith. A brief roll call of admirers includes tasteful bastards such as Idolator, Pop Matters, Coke Machine Glow, the L Magazine, and the dearly defunct Stylus. None of this is surprising of course. What's not to love? With concise, sharply crafted songs that betray a fondness for all the great 80s record geek touchstones, it's clear that our loves are My Teenage Stride's. Postcard Records, Factory Records, Rough Trade, Flying Nun, these are the badges sewn onto the band's songwriting satchel. But as evident as they are, the songs never, ever feel rote, unimaginative, or the product of pure mimicry. MTS recalls those high-water marks because, like them, they put a premium on tight songwriting, performing exuberance, and execution, above all.

My Teenage Stride - "Ears Like Golden Bats"

The title track to last year's critic-enchanter plays rope-a-dope in its first seconds, suggesting atmospheric clouds before breaking up the quiet with an improbably sprightly bassline. Which would be motion enough even without the introduction of jangling guitars, sprinting like the Louvre scene in Godard's Bande à part. Despite the active energy, Jed's refrain is pessimistic. "You're gonna let me down," he insists. His effortless vocal melody remains trustworthy throughout.

My Teenage Stride - "Theme From Teenage Suicide"

Even better, perhaps, is this cut from the Lesser Demons EP, released earlier this year. The title would be enough to put me in mind of my beloved Unrest, but those giddy guitars are a more fitting tribute to the underappreciatd Teenbeat Records' catalog of the early 90s (underappreciated to the point that I really can't think of another current band really keeping that torch lit). Smith's lyrics are filled with the sort of non-sequitur that gets stuck in your head before you can puzzle out what it means, and the pinko "Red China and Russia look finer than gold" line is a fine example here, though the dark chorus, "She was a teenage suicide I never wanted her more!" wins the prize for macabre singability.

And check out the spiraling New Order guitar leads on the single below, which also throws in a nice vocal homage to Eno's "Cindy Tells Me" for good measure....

My Teenage Stride - "To Live and Die in the Airport Lounge"

My Teenage Stride - "To Live and Die in the Airport Lounge"

and a bonus clip, just to put it over the top.

My Teenage Stride - "They are Alone in Their Principles"

Getting excited out there? I can hardly sit still. More info here, as always.

--

P.S. If you'd like a chance to win a free ticket to this jubilant concert bill, head over to the blogosphere nexus for indie-pop enthusiasm, Skatterbrain, and read up.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

A few proud soldiers in Dean Wells' CD-Rmy

What did you do today? Go to work, come home, eat a meal or two, a shower maybe, some TV, and then to bed? Well Dean Wells did those things too, but chances are he also wrote at least one killer song in addition. Recording as the Capstan Shafts, Dean has churned out as astonishing 25 albums and EPs this decade. As most all of his songs clock in between 45 seconds and 2 minutes, differentiating which is which becomes kind of tricky. These short fragments, and the prolificacy with which they are produced (not to mention their slightly British inflected tunefulness), reminds one of DIY saint Robert Pollard. But Dean's output is nowhere near as spotty as ol' Bob's was. Playing each and every instrument by himself, all of the Capstan Shafts' songs possess an immediately engaging, muscular pop craft. While a comprehensive review of his discography is pretty much impossible, here's are a few assorted gems. Listen to all of them. It'll take you, like, 6 minutes.

the Capstan Shafts - "61 Sideburns"

The song that charmed me initially, and a sure thing Dylan-runner up once Numerology hits 61. "We lived in the last genuine time..." it maintains, creating a convicted premature nostalgia for a present day that otherwise seems pretty damn fake.

the Capstan Shafts - "Magical Dance Number Scene"

Though his compositions fall in an ever-changing yet similar range of bite-size power-pop, Wells' darkly comic lyrics can cycle through a diverse series of tones is seconds flat. Take this killer creepout; "All my fragile dreams defiled/ yes, I see that she's with child/ yeah, I noticed this a while ago/ still, I want to nail her, like a routine/ used in some magical dance number scene/ waa-ooooo." You go from gently deflated to deeply disturbing, and then back to bawdily amusing in less than thirty seconds. The songs don't need to extend, because their time allotted is so richly filled.

the Capstan Shafts - "American Volume"

Living up to the titular noise, Dean brings the rawk here, with choppy riffs "charming the daylight out of the sky." But just because his amp is pushed up to 11 doesn't mean that clever turns of phrase are neglected. "I'll never turn you down," carries an elegant double meaning.

the Capstan Shafts - "Eyeliner/Skywriting, etc."

Often, the songs are such obviously engaging bursts that you don't even know what to say about them. It starts, is charming, and ends before you have much of a chance to process. Then there's another, and then another twenty more. Next month, another album appears. The Giving Tree of indie rock.

the Capstan Shafts - "Old Skull, New Mexico"

Maybe the remarkable thing about these home recordings is that Dean manages to sound organically like a living, breathing full band all by his lonesome. In this track from 2006's The Megafauna Undermined manages to sound like a slightly-soused Texas bar band to boot.

the Capstan Shafts - "The Trilateralist Told You Not To"

In which Dean works a reference to "antisocial Darwinists" (great name for a punk band by the way) into a Kinks-ian, silly tone + romantic guitar lines, stunner.

the Capstan Shafts - "A Heart That Never Flies"

As if Jeff Mangum hadn't taken a full sheet of blotter acid before putting pen to Neutral Milk Hotel lyrics notebook.

--

The Capstan Shafts output has mainly been released on CD-Rs scattered by the winds and released in puny batches on various tiny labels. It's the sort of awe-inspiring body of work that would likely have found a cult audience at some point in the not-too-distant future, no matter what, but interest spiked last year when Pitchfork published this rave about a handful of the albums. Writer Matt LeMay was forced to quiver, "How can this be so good?" Despite the grace of the tastemaking elite, Dean has been reluctant to leave home and hearth. He's played only a handful of live shows ever, and all of them occurred within the borders of Vermont. Below is footage from the inaugural gig last year, in a candle-lit rural Vermont church, no less:

the Capstan Shafts - "Sleepcure Theory Advancer"
(live in Stannard Church, Stannard, Vermont, 10.06.2007)

But now, perhaps partly in gratitude for LeMay's patronage, the Capstan Shafts are venturing to New York to open for Matt's band Get Him Eat Him at the Knitting Factory tomorrow. Never one to miss such a golden opportunity, I've convinced him to make his Brooklyn debut at Neon Lights' show at Glasslands this Friday. Though the bill offers further charms, it's basically the reason I put the whole thing together. The presence of at least one band mate will allow songs like the one below to maintain their formidable rhythmic thump.

the Capstan Shafts - "Boy to Get You Nowhere"

"Would you call it somewhere if we left the state?" it asks. Yeah, Dean, we would. See you Friday.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

So, as I mentioned previously, but haven't really had time to elaborate on until now, this Friday night at the Glasslands Gallery in Brooklyn is the long-awaited return of my little concert series, Neon Lights. The first band to be inducted into NL's illustrious alumni ranks alongside past performers such as High Places, Titus Andronicus, and A Sunny Day in Glasgow, etc., will be Jackson Heights' own the Beets. And no, we're not talking about the favorite band of Nickelodeon's Doug. The Beets are newcomers to the New York concert scene, though they were praised effusively as early as last June. Lately they've been sharing bills with the Brooklyn fuzzy buzz-bin elite; bands like Vivian Girls, Crystal Stilts (hey, also a NL alum.), and caUSE co-MOTION! The few songs that have surfaced suggest that they definitely belong in that celebrated company.

the Beets - "No Blood"

the Beets - "Happy But on My Way"

The far-away echo on these tracks, which I believe are from the band's recent cassette-only release (hardcore!), is so pronounced that I picture a recording session complicated by an extension cord too short to get the four-track within 20 feet of the drum kit. But the melodies are pure enough to fill the cave, or whatever enormous space the recordings suggest. There is a certain 60s garage vibe to the tracks, an evocation of bored British teenagers ready who might just jump out of their skin, if they only had the resolve to brew another pot of tea first. But instead of sullying that timeless aesthetic in grubby modern debauchery, as the Black Lips do, the Beets remain sweet and chaste. Even "No Blood"'s tale of lunch gone wrong conjures a bit of romance. "Happy But on My Way" is stuck on full-wistful as well. The title's "but" is key. Hazy melody is certainly a pleasurable place to park, but the increased rhythmic focus edges us to move on.

the Beets - "Walk on Your Toes"

This video, by singer/guitarist Juan Waters, is quite charming as well, theorizing that advances in technology might be able to rid the drum machine of its inhuman stigma once and for all. The song itself guarantees that the Beets opening set Friday will feature pop punch in addition to a smooth caress.

Check back throughout the week for songs and info on the rest of the super-stellar bill. To cut to the chase now, you can poke around here.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The hiatus ends abruptly with a seriously stacked fuzz-pop extravaganza. More info to come. Obviously.

08.29.08, Neon Lights presents...

the Pains of Being Pure at Heart:

- "Kurt Cobain's Cardigan"

My Teenage Stride:

- "Theme From Teenage Suicide"

the Capstan Shafts:

- "61 Sideburns"

the Beets:

- "No Blood"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

photos by Devon Banks

So I officially have some sort of a mental block when it comes to neatly wrapping up the concerts D and I book. It has been one month exactly since the last Neon Lights Presents... night in Brooklyn, and here comes the wrap up just now limping across the finish line. Perhaps it's the sedating blush of an event completed or the psychological reluctance to move beyond a fleeting triumph that leads to the perpetual delay? It's kind of tough to self-diagnose. How about this: if the lack of immediate closure following a solid week of pre-show hype, maybe you should come to the next show, huh? No, I'm not ignoring you, non-New Yorkers. Who doesn't love a grueling cross state bus ride?

Anyway, the goods:

Crystal Stilts

The Crystal Stilts were about as cool as possible. In Galapagos' cavernous main room, their minimal sound became overwhelmingly big. I don't mean to equate sonically filling a room with anthemic preening. The unsung Brooklyn band was tenaciously aloof, pushing Liam Gallagher levels of hands-in-pockets nonchalance. Echo and reverb were magnified tenfold though, to the point that low-key iciness became all-encompassing. From the opening VU cover to the heighth of their self-titled EP's "Crippled Croon," the sound was consistently dark, but far from lifeless. It was far too snappy to constitute a perpetual mope. Also, a special technical merit badge is awarded on the basis of the ingenious "let's just lay a tambourine on top of this standing drum and pretend we can simultaneously thwack tom and cymbals" set up.

The Stilts' aren't one of these Brooklyn bands who you won't be able to avoid due to pervasive PR blasts, so do yourselves a favor and make an effort to seek them out if the name happens to cross your path.

Titus Andronicus

As much as we were all enjoying the disaffected badassery that the Stilts had to offer, there were no complaints once young Titus Andronicus climbed the stage with hearts pin snugly on-sleeves. This band rocks. Hard. Every song in what frontman Patrick Stickles described earlier in the evening as a "hits" set was drenched in flailing enthusiastic energy. Three guitars, a keyboard, and a shrieking New Jersey-ite up to no good is quite the potential powderkeg. The band has previously been complemented as a drunken bloody mess. Having had a bit of control over the drink tickets this evening, I'd say that's just projection based on their refreshing lack of self-conscious inhibition.

The high water mark of a positively flooded set was probably the Pogues-lilting but Wolf Parade-pounding self-titled anthem, "Titus Andronicus." This is the number that gives Patrick his permission to stalk the crowd screaming to people that their "life is over" (see post photo #1). His bandmates--clapping and shouting behind him--let him play grim reaper quite affectively. But I despite the easily assumed authority, it was charming that an attempt to act out the song's opening "throw my guitar down on the floor" was made impossible by a stubbornly placed mic stand and a strap that just wouldn't fucking give. As far as subsequent magic moments went, the part in "Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, New Jersey" when the band pulled to a halt, simply to scream "Fuck You!" in unison, was hard to eclipse on a pure punk scale (of 1 to OI !).

The actually quite pleasant lads don't seem to know when their Troubleman debut, The Airing of Greivances is slated to hit shelves. So obviously that much anticipated news will have to wait for a later date. Perhaps their April 13th gig at the Knitting Factory will provide a much-needed update.

Eamon Hamilton

In retrospect we probably did Eamon no favors by slating him to play amid the still smoldering wreckage of Titus Andronicus' energy bomb. A more prototypical singer/songwriter, armed only with a weathered acoustic guitar and a microphone, might have shrunken away from the challenge. Our Eamon responded with a surprising bug eyed intensity. The spiky rock numbers from the Brakes' songbook were delivered with full-throated gusto. The sweet ballads were aided by a lonesome vulnerability. Really, it was all unreasonably compelling for such an unadorned set.

Spontaneous decision makers heed my notice: Eamon plays tonight at Manhattan's Lit Lounge.

So thanks to Galapagos, the bands, DJs Professor David Klein and the Rich Girls are Weeping, and especially our very kind and thoroughly rocked patrons. There's a bit of a quandary as to when the next Neon Lights evening will go down, but trust that wheels are in motion and the congregation will be thoroughly preached towards when the theoretical show is actually approaching. If you've got a bright idea that you'd like to run past me, hit me up at neon lights nyc at gmail dot com.

Much more photo-documentation after the J...

Continue reading "Still Glowing Lightly From Inside Closed Lids..." »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 06:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The final performer on Saturday's kick off to the 2008 Neon Lights calendar is Eamon Hamilton, better known to the blog-music devotee as singer and songwriter for Brakes (you can triple that if you feel so inclined). The Brighton, UK band is signed to Rough Trade in the UK, which has brought us such flashes in the pan as the Smiths. He wrote one of the most laser focused political songs of these dark days containing only the lyrics, "Cheney, Cheney, Cheney, Cheney, Cheney, Cheney, Cheney/ Stop being such a dick." Their latest record, 2007's The Beatific Visions drew Trans-Atlantic praise that most bands would murder for in publications like NME, Spin, Pitchfork, and the BBC. With that record's successor on his mind already, Eamon's solo set will see some newbies mixed in among the proven oldies. He's been touring this set around the UK, opening for his old band mates British Sea Power, and occasionally wrestling behind them on national television. This will be the first time this material will be played in this manner, for US audiences. Not too bad for our first ever European import.

A smattering of audio-visual evidence for review:

Brakes - "Hold Me in the River"

In which our man, the pugilist, tries his hand at suburban boxing and gratuitously mentions Scarlett Johansson.

Brakes - "Hold Me in the River"

Brakes - "Hi How Are You?/"Heard About Your Band"
(live @ Trash, London)

This first rant against mid-song audience chatter will likely greet any patrons whose late night drinking has effected their internal volume control. And the second war against incessant self-promotion likely applies to Williamsburg in even greater depth than in did to London.

Brakes - "Beatific Visions"
(live @ Chop Suey, Seattle, WA)

You'd think that the song above, a sweet melodic pop song, would translate best to a man-and-his-guitar revamp. Or perhaps it'll be the tender country winders such as the one below that are best suited to the troubadour act...

Brakes - "Be On Your Side"

We'll all find out together on Saturday night/ Sunday morning, I suppose.

And even though I don't think he was with them at this point, how about a song from Eamon's running buddies British Sea Power, just for kicks.

British Sea Power - "Fear of Drowning" (early single version)

Remember folks that you still have a pair of opportunities to gain free admission to the extravaganza, and see Eamon along with Crystal Stilts and Titus Andronicus. For the first, check the details at Prefix and for the second just avert your attention to a previous post on this very site. Your reasons for resistance are looking ever thinner...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This morning, over on Prefix, I offered the site's registered users a chance to come to this weekend's much discussed Neon Lights show. While signing up to be a user there has plenty of benefits beyond my little show on Saturday, I'd be remiss to not offer our own dedicated readership a similar chance without even minimal strings attached.

So, if you want to see Eamon Hamilton, Titus Andronicus, and Crystal Stilts at Galapagos on March 1st, for the grand price of nada, all you gotta do is drop us a line at neonlightsnyc at gmail.com with the subject line of "Entering contest now." We'll pick one at random and grant thee a plus one to score you some points with the ladies/fellas. Fair enough? Have at it...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

photo by Bryan Bruchman

As you know, the first Neon Lights show of 2008 is going down this Saturday, at Galapagos in Williamsburg. The second in our slate of Saturday night bands, is Shakespeare's/New Jersey's vicious Goth-slayer, Titus Andronicus. This slightly folk, sort of punk, definitely crowd-awing band of youths has been playing all around the Tri-State area in advance of the moment when indie stalwart Troubleman Records releases their debut, The Airing of Greivances, and they can seriously blow us all off for good.

For the here and now, a couple:

Titus Andronicus - "Titus Andronicus"

This self-mythologizing number sounds like a drunken fistfight between two long time friends that briefly becomes a teary-eyed man hug, before returning to sloppy haymakers. Also, kind of like Wolf Parade being tricked into playing a St. Patrick's Day Parade. And why is it so perversely fun to chant along to the climactic hand-clap accentuated breakdown? Maybe because screaming "Your life is over!" at anonymous members of the crowd implicitly suggests that yours is still chugging along quite nicely. So why's everyone else chanting it in your direction as well?

Titus Andronicus - "Upon Viewing Bruegel's "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus" "

I'm not certain how Dutch Renaissance man (as in a man who lived in the Renaissance, I don't know if he could do a lot of other stuff) Pieter Bruegel reflects the exalted Jersey ennui of this 2006 EP track. Are there mythic beings drowning to general indifference in the Passaic on a regular basis? It's another raggedly melodic punk basher whose lyrical dread is performed with enough cymbal bashing brio to trick you in to believing that the whole sun-buzzing endeavor might not melt your wings this time, if you want it badly enough. Or maybe it's an expression of the dread resulting from lugging that god damn plow around everyday while golden boys in the distance get to splash around in the water all day. William Carlos Williams was a fan of that painting too, and he was a bitter man who ate others' cherished fruit for kicks. So maybe it's just a favorite among artistic types with issues to work out. Thrash therapy was the pharmacist's prescription here.

My biased words are echoed by triumphant trumpeting of the band that is starting to filter in from all corners:

- Pitchfork: "...perfectly clangorous pop songs..."

- Brooklyn Vegan ( in fairness, more of a spare, sorta neutral mention that prompted the band to post about it on their MySpace under the title: "Brooklyn Vegan to Titus Andronicus: "You Exist")

- Said the Gramophone: "...shirtless, jangle-barking..."

- Oh My Rockness: "...so damn delightful, it's enough to soften even the shells of die-hard Spiderland fans."

- Breakthru Radio: "...about to explode."

Preceding Titus into the void will of course be Crystal Stilts, to whom you've recently become acquainted. After them will be Brakes' Eamon Hamilton who we've yet to discuss at length. If you're the find your Christmas presents early type, you can get all the info you need right now, right here. But I'll be filling in the gaps very soon because, as you know, it goes down this Saturday.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 05:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As previously threatened, this is the week in which I go over the bands playing Saturday night's Neon Lights show at Galapagos in minute detail. The first and only group of native Brooklynites on the the bill for Saturday's show will be the great, gloomy Crystal Stilts. I was unaware of the band when I stumbled into their coveted slot as an opening act for Kiwi legends, the Clean. They are sort of a conundrum. There's lots of space surrounding everything in the mix, but it's still urgent and vital. It just sounds like that vitality is happening in occurring in the direct center of a very large cave or something. It was glibly suggested to me at the show that they were "the Jesus and Mary Clean," combining the echoed legend of the Brothers Reid with the immediacy of the Brothers Kilgour. I'm not sure I'd be so reductive but even conceding the point, you'd have to admit that it does sound like a tasty recipe.

Also, Swedish people like them, and you know you need to be on the ground floor when that happens...

Crystal Stilts - "Converging in the Quiet"

The steady drumbeat that starts this track gains is given more power by a sparse set up that's all kick drum and no rattling cymbal. The vocals are far away, delivered in a dreamy accent that seems to come from a more world weary place than modern day Brooklyn. The winding guitar line that forms the song's spine is where that errant Clean comparison really rings true. I'm thinking inspired '82 stuff like "Fish" or "Point That Thing Somewhere Else." Good company.

Crystal Stilts - "Crippled Croon"

This one has a bit more spring in its step, though the regally detached voice could still coming from a chilling radio program, revealed to be emanating from beyond the grave in a Twilight Zone episode's final minutes. And none of this really suggests the spark that their very active, usually standing drummer brings to their live show.

For more exact details, like right now, go here. More to come on the full night in the next couple days. You won't have to look very hard for it, trust me.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Eagle-eyed MySpace obsessives may have gotten the drift already, but for the rest of you (marginally) better adjusted blog readers, it's time for the ritualistic unveiling of the Neon Lights line-up!

The latest installment of D's and my ongoing New York concert series moves for the first time to my home 'hood, sweet misbegotten Williamsburg. On Saturday, March the 1st, we will celebrate the Chinese Leap Year* at Galapagos Art Space with three colors from the rock spectrum. Eamon Hamilton, who's long earned his stripes on the UK scene as a member of British Sea Power and the songwriter behind Brakes (Brakesbrakesbrakes if you're litigious), will be treating our audience to a rare solo set of material destined for his next full-length opus. Further delight will be offered by the winningly sloshed anthems of rambunctious Jersey boys, Titus Andronicus, and the dark and cavernous pop delights of Brooklyn's own Crystal Stilts. Easing you through the stylistic change-ups will be the DJ stylings of our very own Numerologist David Klein as well as the Rich Girls are Weeping**, who've recently had a phoenix-like return to active blogdom.

Those who've popped in regularly for the past year or so know that all implicated parties will be discussed in bone crunching detail as the intervening nights drain away. For now a quick, teasing niblet of what's in store:

Brakes - "Hold Me in the River"

Titus Andronicus - "Titus Andronicus"

Crystal Stilts - "Converging in the Quiet"

...Much more to come...

* This does not exist

**Misty-eyed Rich Girl, Michaela Drapes, is responsible for another in a long line of handsome show posters. Merci.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I often feel a bit bad when I go deep into praise for the bands D and I book for our Neon Lights shows, only for them to seemingly fall off of MS's radar out of laziness or neglect. Don't we still love them like we used to? Well, of course we do. So in an effort to better express our enduring admiration, I intend to give you a periodic update on the those groups that have been kind enough to legitimize our meglomania, and their recent happenings. This is the product of that intention...

Ola Podrida - "Lost and Found"

David Wingo's hazy, delightful band Ola Podrida conjures images of campfires and back porches. That's a great soundtrack for coach cuddling or laundry folding, but as a video it leaves much to be desired. So, I'm pleased to say that Ola's latest clip is totally, utterly insane in both concept and execution from its first seconds. I'm not sure I even want to ruin the scrunched face head scratching it'll result in by giving you any sort of a content clue. Just go in blind.

the Muggabears - "Guitar Feelings"

Travis Johnson of the Muggbears sent me this new track months ago, but since I have the attention span of 'nipped up kitten, I've only recently discovered that it is predictably quite good. Trav's guitar apparently feels alterantely woozy and violent, and the rapidly shifting tempo can't be helping. But TJ himself seems casually reassuring, clearer than he has been in previous tracks, though no less oblique, lyrically. To marry such a puckish vocal to such warped and dangerous post-rock guitar tones is an unexpectedly satisfying calculation. D said it sounded like Bones, Thugs, + Harmony, but she's got some serious problems.

The Muggabears play with the great Casiotone for the Painfully Alone tonight at Oliver Ackerman's Death by Audio art space in Brooklyn for 7 bucks.

High Places - "Cosmonaut"

In the lead up to and aftermath of the last Neon Lights show, during my frenzied love affair with this tough to genrify duo, I had searched in vain for this track and been repeatedly mocked by a MySpace "download" button that had no intention of living up to its end of the bargain. Well, now I've got it, and passed it on to you as well. More than the bevy of tracks I posted before. I think that's mainly because its 4 minute run time provides more room to spread out. The band's mini-ditties usually trail off as soon as they've charmed your pants away. Here, despite delivering the usual self contained and utterly adorable thrill of Mary Pearson's middle school vocals, there's time for it to showcase Rob Barber's formidable rhythms and unidentifiable ambience. I think he even gets a few syllables in there.

If you're in New York City tomorrow night, come to the Knitting Factory, where the band is weirdly also playing with Casiotone for the Painfully Alone. Tickets here for merely 8 dollars. Non New Yorkers can spend time not having your soul crushed on the rush hour subway by scrolling through the photos on the band's blog.

De Novo Dahl - "Sexy Come Lately"
(live @ Neon Lights, Union Hall)

Finally, in the "how in the world did we miss this?" file, we have live footage of De Novo Dahl's jumpsuited sex bomb of a summer Neon Lights performance, captured by Charlie at Nerd Litter. I was instructed by band members before hand that their live show would make me question my sexuality, whatever that might be. While studies are still being conducted on whether the same effect can transpire via Google video, I'd at least make sure before watching that you're in a place where a sudden orientation switch will not jeopardize your well being or employment status.

Plans for future shows will be doled out in a quick and efficient manner, but feel free to be our pretend friend at MySpace in the meantime.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

photos by Devon Banks

I don't know why it always takes me about a month to get it together enough to finally give you a written account of the shows D and I throw as Neon Lights. The (lazy) human need for celebratory vacation after a period of intense work, perhaps? The shivers I get when lying in bed, thinking of the hundreds of photos sitting in a folder, waiting to be sorted? I leave it for the historians to decide.

Well now you've got your write-up of our September 21st show, I've got my closure, and we'll leave it at that. Below is my hopelessly subjective recollection of a bill gone by. Thanks to the bands who played, the Cracker's United crew and Chris Battering Room for their lent DJ prowess, the full room of folks who turned up, and Union Hall, who provided that room.

She Keeps Bees

As She Keeps Bees took the stage to a respectable first band crowd, singer Jessica Larrabee was a sparking power line of nervous energy. Her stream of consciousness, mile-a-minute patter seemed alien from the soulful alt-blues tracks I'd heard on her band's album Minisink Hotel and its following Shhhhhhh! EP. Then, as soon as the drum kicked in behind her, her posture immediately relaxed. She uncaged an overpowering voice that couldn't be more self assured. With only that drum kit, and some sparse electric strums to back her up, the set would have felt thin if her pipes could'nae hack it. But her rich tones filled the vast swaths of empty instrumental space. In the between song gaps, Jess was back to her unending jabber mode, spouting non-sequiturs freely with no pause for the crowd's chuckles. But give her that metronome beat, and the hypnotic transformation back to fully controlled stage warrior, with a direct line to a higher plane of emotional depth and human frailties was complete. It was an opening set that, for once, commanded complete attention.

High Places


High Places were the last band added to the night's bill, but the one who completely stole the show. Lugging their own tall and battered PA into Union Hall, they were not giving their signature sound over to anyone else's whims. The band's unconventional set up featured Rob Barber on a Deacon/Deakin-esque electronics console, with wires spilling from every possible point of entry. A rig so awkward and precarious wouldn't seem capable of producing such sunny, almost tropical sounds. As Rob massaged drum pads into providing deceptively steady beats, giddy squeals were commanded by knobs unseen. To his left was a percussion tree with metal limbs sprouting cymbals. Though similar instruments of terror are used by (future High Places split 7" partner) Xiu Xiu, their effect in context couldn't be much different. In a Xiu Xiu song, the chiming metal makes things seem more strange or austere, where a High Places cymbal strike is likely to punctuate a sugar shocked hook. When all of your songs clock in at roughly two minutes, you'd better make them count, and though the arrangements were definitely atypical, they never lacked a kinetic beat or engaging melody.

Much of the immediacy of the band's music came from singer Mary Pearson. Mary's singing would sound slightly innocent even if she weren't button cute in pigtails and pink. But run through a treated mic, Mary's small voice floated over here cohort's rhythms, always direct and dominant in the wobbly mix. Her live vocals on skewed pop tracks like "Head Spins" and "Sandy Feat" were more nuanced and delicate than they are in the band's recordings. The songs ended quickly, though not abruptly. Once the melody was delivered and the textures skewed, they burned out gracefully. For a twenty-five minute set, it was immensely satisfying. Though the band seems more concerned with pursuing their art in a low-key manner for now, with D.I.Y. aesthetics taking prominence over shrewd marketing, it's hard to imagine fans not flocking to their side once more of their songs become widely available.

The band's set also made an intense impression on a cadre of front stage die hards who appeared to be holding some sort of performance art wager to invent a new dance every six seconds. Above, you see the early stages of a fan favorite, "the Vertical Worm."

the Most Serene Republic

When we started putting this night together, and Union Hall approached us with the idea of booking the Most Serene Republic, it was a fairly easy decision to agree. From a booking and promotional standpoint, the band's well regarded debut record, Arts & Crafts label pedigree, critical attention, and enthusiastic cult of fans made them a very strong and attractive headliner. From my island of personal opinion in the room itself, they just weren't my cup of soup. Though the band's small army of players were clearly the most intensely studied and musically accomplished group of the evening, their spinning parts often seemed at odds with each other. Gentle twee harmonies were crammed into ill fitting prog time changes, or simmering build-ups were rendered moot by replacing the expected climax with dextrous free-jazz flavors that stifled any chance of euphoric release. I'm all for diabolically experimenting with the standard verse chorus verse (as regular readers hopefully know by now), but the band's compositions, even when thrilling in their technical prowess, never really amounted to "songs" as I enjoy them.

But maybe I'm some sort of simp. The overwhelmingly partisan crowd cheered every wave of brass, and welcomed the fist pumping bravado with which MSR approached even their most difficult passages of work. The conglomerated fans were vigorously entertained, and vocally grateful for the Canadian twee-prog barrage. I'm obviously glad that the show was exactly what they wanted, and definitely in debt to MSR themselves for eagerly rendering that service. But, I will factually state that the booking for future Neon Lights nights will probably veer in a different aesthetic direction.

As to when those future Neon Lights show might be, I can't exactly say. It's looking like you might have to wait until '08 to get another dose of our bad medicine. When we do snap back in action, you'll be among the very first to get word, and the uncontrollable excitement that word will surely command.

Many more photos, beneath the fold...

Continue reading "Remembrances of Lights Once Lit" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

So tonight is the night for the fifth installment of our wildly popular Neon Lights concert series. The poster basically says it all, though I've been expanding on it all week. The collected write ups for our bands are below, along with the evening's projected set times. You'll be taking your musical life into your own hands if you play the fashionably late game, but I'm only here to inform.

She Keeps Bees - 8:30

High Places - 9:30

the Most Serene Republic - 10:30

See you there!

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The last band on Neon Lights svelte three band bill is the Canadian twee-prog powerhouse known as the Most Serene Republic. MSR were first band signed to Broken Social Scene's Arts & Crafts label that wasn't a direct off-shoot from its parent collective, though a casual listener might be excused for thinking that the band's multi-instrument maximalist pop arrangements were a fallen branch from that family tree. Though, actually, now that I mention it, I'm not sure there's anything casual about the Most Serene Republic's listening experience. It's best described as a controlled chaos, with cacophonous swells and mind fuck time signature switches building to climactic moments of pop epiphany. But if active listening is needed to truly crack the sound, shutting down to let yourself be overwhelmed is perfectly viable second choice.

The band has been exalted by a cavalcade of upstarts and institutions. A partial list;
Spin
Brooklyn Vegan
Gorilla vs Bear
Splendid Magazine
Drowned in Sound
Heart on a Stick

The band's impending album, Population, is out on October 2nd. You could listen to the whole disc, all fair and legal, on the Arts & Crafts website right this second, if you were so inclined, but I've also provided a morsel below;

the Most Serene Republic - "Sherry and Her Butterfly Net"

For the visually centered, we have this floating freak head centric, Canadian spelling exhibition of a video from the band's debut, Underwater Cinematography.

the Most Serene Republic - "Content Was Always My Favourite Colour"

...and a bonus MSR related trinket, for those fond of prettiness in general;

Stars - "Ageless Beauty" (the Most Serene Republic Mix)

--

Though time to enter to win tickets is running very short indeed, you can still try to slip one under the wire by reading up here. A better bet is grabbing an advance ticket through Ticketweb here, or hell just show up early-ish. She Keeps Bees, High Places, and cheap drinks will reward you generously.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The second boy-girl duo on Friday night's Neon Lights bill is the ultra hip, and winningly odd, High Places. Their debut 7" record on art imprint Ancient Almanac totally sold out, probably in part to the stone rave it received from Pitchfork. The Fader and the Village Voice have also been charmed by the pop hooks locked inside their rolling tin can shells. Dumbstruck commenters and UK blogger savants alike describe their woozy psych as something they've only found in dreams until now. You can spot them at roof parties with the indie elite and soon touring the east coast with the Blow. You're desperately attracted to them, and they think they remember you from a party that one time. Your name's Ed, or something, right?

But the tunes, man! :

High Places - "Head Spins"

Like all of High Places' songs to date, "Head Spins," is seemingly over just as it's begun. When the not even two minute running time is so filled with odd instrumental digression and plain, pretty vocals such a small dosage seems cruel. Mary Pearson's voice practically skips as she tells of budding romance with playful word puns and graceful "oooh"s. Rob Barber's background is a strange and beguiling mix of steady percussion and unidentifiable clatter. His sounds swirl around Mary's down to earth singing, here a chime, here maybe something tapping on wood? But for all it's puzzling bobs and weaves, the catchiness never suffers.

High Places - "Golden"

"Golden" starts with spacey blips and a lightly churning ambient rattle that recalls a slightly more dynamic Fennesz. Then, out of nowhere, the song morphs into some kind of simulacrum of steel drummed Caribbean pop. With the thick scramble of sound, it's tough to tell whether Mary's warped melodies are double tracked or not, and again the two minute run time is too short to solve the sonic mysteries. It's engaging enough that repeated rewinds and Zapruder level dissection might be in order.

High Places - "Sandy Feat"

An earlier track from last summer, "Sandy Feat," has a cutesier indie-pop feel, albeit one cobbled together using found sounds from cracked 8 bit cartridges. Ambient squawks from intimidating synthesizers or stray game birds flutter around the edges. Mary bounces her way through a fanciful scenario about, uh, a space traveling duck, apparently. It has its own logic though, like the delightful children's story that plot line suggests. The cheap yet insistent beat it's married to is perfectly useful for full grown ass-shakers, as well.

High Places - "Greeting the Light"
(from a forthcoming Post Present Medium DVD, via Pitchfork)

Lest the comforting, yet alien wonder of all this might leave you intimidated, we leave you on a gentle and intimate note. This charming low tech video for "Greeting the Light" lays a tender exchange out for all to see, without actually depicting much but the darkened view from a nighttime window.

--

Soon, we'll profile our third and final act the Most Serene Republic. But since you've just been convinced once and for all, you can buy tickets through Ticketweb right now. Or, try to win them, if you're feeling lucky.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So, this Friday we'll be mourning the last precious drops of Summer and celebrating the first fledgling steps of Fall with the latest entry to our exemplary Neon Lights concert series. Once again, the Union Hall's lovably Lynchian concert space will play host for our lovingly selected spate of bands.

The first duo to take the stage will be Brooklyn newcomers, She Keeps Bees. In reference to their home recorded 2006 debut album, Minisink Hotel, Washington D.C.'s City Paper filed this accurate report:

"Under the moniker She Keeps Bees, Jessica Larrabee along with collaborator and co-producer Andy LaPlant recorded her debut album, Minisink Hotel, with the most minimal of accouterments, mainly her home computer and a microphone. The arrangements are sparse, allowing Larrabee’s vocals to take center stage. There’s a hint of the alluring guttural quality of PJ Harvey, assuming Polly Jean spent an evening with a banjo and some old Merle Haggard records. Larrabee has the kind of twangy, whiskey-soaked voice you would assume was nurtured in a dying coal mining town, not Brooklyn."

As our prized readers are clearly to clever to rest on press clippings for proof of smoldering blues excellence, I give you audio evidence below:

She Keeps Bees - "Revival"

This Minisink stand out recalls the stark minimalism of Chan Marshall's pre-sobriety jams, though Jess never sounds as hopelessly fragile. There's a self possessed power to her smoky vocals that would never crumble under a beam of spotlight. The dark tone doesn't offer many rays itself, but the track's beauty doesn't demand high beams to discover. Late in the track, singular piano stabs are joined by a limping rhythm and some slow motion hand claps. It's a minor nod towards a low end, but it pushes the song forward as the melancholy threatens to blanket our gal once and for all.

She Keeps Bees - "Pile Up"

This track, from July's Shhhh! EP ironically finds Jessica sounding more like Fiona Apple, as she forsakes the piano for some mean alt blues guitar. Lyrically, the song seems to tread in the muck of a recent break-up, but again Larrabee sounds too strong to be the victim. "I've got daddy's eyes, and they refuse to see me cry," she spits. I'd hate to be the bloke on the receiving end of their glare.

Buy tickets for Friday's show, right here, right now. I'll be here all week with mp3's from and general info on our remaining two bands.

Meet me back here tomorrow?

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The next Neon Lights show is a shockingly close two weeks from tonight. The pertinent information can be gleaned from the lovely poster above (designed by up until recently weeping rich girl, Michaela Drapes). Gracing our stage with their presence will be:

the Most Serene Republic

High Places

She Keeps Bees

DJ sets will be provided throughout the night by Justin and Nghia from Cracker's United (and it's Friction concert series), and Chris from the Battering Room (and its Knockout concert series). Doors at 7:30, admission $10 bucks and available right here, right now.

I will get more long winded and in-depth as the night approaches, as I do.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The new video for my favorite song by Neon Lights star David Wingo, aka Ola Podrida, is below.

Amidst all of the fitting pastoral imagery and sweet hipster romance is prominent footage from the last NL show itself. See, more than putting on good shows, we're forming lasting cultural moments. Also, helping folks fall in love. Remember that, friends.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

photos by Devon Banks

I was able to honestly say in my recap of the first night of our most recent Neon Lights happenings, that my write up was almost a month after the fact. Now, semantics demand that I note the full month's worth of desk calendar pages that have fallen in the span of my sloth. But we all need closure, damn it.

So again with the subjective proud parent account. Again with the images of a night well spent. Again with the document of Neon Lights come and gone...

Botany Bay

The thick throng of early on lookers for Botany Bay's debut performance likely had alot to do with singer Eric Schwortz's other band, the Secret Life of Sofia. Putting on the singer songwriter poncho served our man well, however, as a full band fleshed out the strong melodies of the demo tracks that had been the new group's only known thumb print to date. If we weren't omniscient towards the details of our own little pet event, there'd be no way you could convince me that this particular configuration had never graced a stage but ours.

Tacks, the Boy Disaster

Though most of the bands on the bill had some connection to the hipster oasis of Austin, TX, the only group to legitimately rep the Lone Star was Tacks, the Boy Disaster. Whether home town pride or just sheer professionalism dictated the spot on performance, I do not know. Evan Jacobs wailed from his keyboard perch, never letting a little thing like immobility hamper some truly convicted energy. Though the songwriting is more restrained and less aggressively optimistic than the tunes of Jacobs' old outfit the Polyphonic Spree, hints of that band's euphoric swells could be detected within. But they would always tip toe back from those heights to a more grounded, real place. Quite an impressive introduction to Brooklyn, boys.

Via Audio

When Via Audio said that their performance would be extra special, they weren't shamelessly over compensating for a missing drummer. First, there was the horn section. Swelling from three to four members or disappearing altogether as needed, the brass gave the band's enthusiastic pop tunes an uncommonly elastic variability. But wait, that's not all! Adorable Neon Lights 1 star Olga Bell returned the guest vocals favor payed to her by Via Audio's own pixie vocalist Jessica Martins, by standing in for a song. As not so slyly eluded to by me in the run up to the show, the most marquee cameo came from Spoon drummer and Via Audio producer Jim Eno. Jim's crisp stick work blended seamlessly with the already slick pop that had been evident all set long, but the band succinctly summed up the thrill of the moment in post Eno banter. "Thank you Jim Eno from Spoon. He's in Spoon. Spoon."

The genial celebratory tone of the performance was infectious, and the overwhelmingly VA partisan crowd was certainly having quite a time. They might not have had the microphones to amplify giddy animal noises towards the close (as the band did) but I cannot prove that they were not making them.

Ola Podrida

By the time David Wingo and company took the stage, the party vibe fostered by Via Audio, in tandem with several hours of drinking, had made the room a touch rowdy. So, when a song is as delicately pretty as "Photo Booth" lead off Ola Podrida's closing set, the general din from the back threatened to creep over the intimate notes from the front. Songs designed for twilight rather than midnight, I guess. Not that the performance sounded anything less than pristine for the attentive majority. "Cindy" 's grander movements even managed to dominate the room's chatty outskirts as well.

As we'd just run the organizational marathon, the sweet slide into gentility was a fine cap.

Thanks to Union Hall for letting us take over for the weekend. Thanks again, to the bands, fans, and all well wishers in general. Thanks in specific to the Rich Girls are Weeping ladies for banning lulls by spinning vinyl all night, and humoring my early eighties fetish with honored James Chance and Orange Juice requests (read their full epic playlist here).

D and I are plotting our next moves as you read. You'll hear about them. Oh, how you'll hear about them.

More photos after the jump...

Continue reading "Neon Weekend: Saturday Night" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Photos by Devon Banks

It's been almost a month since Neon Lights took over Union Hall, and my providing closure for you, the hype subjected MS reader, would seem painfully overdue. It is, I guess, although after a steady week plus of living and breathing our chosen bands I'd hope a brief respite would be forgiven. Oh, it is? Thank you, kindly.

As I always end up explaining when I write these things, objective criticism is always a tricky ideal given personal biases and there is no possible way for me to give a completely dispassionate recount of something I had such a direct hand in putting together. So, with caveats deployed, I give you a brief accounting of the fine festivities, as well as a binfull of eye catching photographs.

El Jezel

El Jezel started our Union Hall residency off with some dreamy post rock. As the crowd gradually shuffled in and began their long journey into soused, dramatic shifts and emphatic climaxes gave that swimming feeling a healthy nudge. I suspect this sort of thing might work better in total darkness, or sound tracking some seriously majestic nature footage (as Earfarm once suggested) but there were no complaints to be registered. I will note that it's odd to see such seemingly nice people play such intense music, but that's hardly a drawback.

Mancino

Due to circumstances beyond even our formidable powers over time and space, Mancino was forced to soldier on as a drumless two piece. Their songs still carried the compositional twists and turns that fans have some to expect, but this time with a soft touch that spotlit the smart lyrics rather than the rhythmic herks and jerks. Though I'm sure they'll be glad to play with their full complement whenever possible, a sharply written tune is a sharply written tune, and there was no let down here.

Thrushes

Though there is often some wrangling over what does or does not constitute a "shoegaze" band, I don't think Baltimore's Thrushes would get much of an argument in any discussion over new practitioners of the shy science. Swirling guitars, sweet female vocals, and just a general ambush of sound are all dead give-aways. They started their set with thick rich, chiming tones that reminded me of Angelo Badalamenti's Twin Peaks theme in its soothing resonance (and if you knew my Lynch love, you'd know that's a high compliment). They quickly played the lovely "Aidan Quinn" and cycled through most of Sun Come Undone's highlights, including the blog smash "Heartbeats." Being the 4AD junky that she is, D 's eyes were perpetually starry, and the rest of the assembled were similarly transfixed.

Also: High marks to Casey, whose sleigh bell embedded arm band is a musical innovation the world has been waiting for...

The gorgeous narcotic quality of the music might have been a bad portend for a crowd's energy going into a closing act under normal circumstances, but luckily we had a five piece energy shake waiting in the wings.

De Novo Dahl

De Novo Dahl absolutely did not come all the way from Nashville to put on a lackluster show. Before the band changed into its spectacle garb, I was gravely warned by a DND member to prepare myself, for no matter my sexual orientation, the jumpsuit that was soon to appear would alter it forever. That prediction fell slightly short (slightly), but the presence of several decked out gents circling the room couldn't help but raise expectations. When the guys and gal finally got started, their range and energy was undeniably impressive.

They shifted gears from big communal sing alongs like "Shout" to bouts of electro or what we'll go ahead and call "sex-funk" without missing a beat. In fact when a broken snare drum mandated the missing of a beat, they coolly played a pitch perfect country ballad, while those of us who were more easily rattled paced frantically for a replacement. That downturn in energy was born of pure neccessity, though. The high energy level, as well as the resulting kinetic motion from the audience, were almost immediately recaptured.

As a night ending set it was perfectly climactic.

Huge thanks to Union Hall, our DJ's Matt Earfarm and Danny from the Big Sleep, all of the bands, and all of you who filled the room.

I will be back with a quick rundown of Saturday night's goings on, ummm, this week at some point...

Our MySpace page, as always. More photos below...

Continue reading "Neon Weekend: Friday Night" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Well, I think we're all slightly relieved that the Neon Lights band profile marathon has now come to its conclusion, and the enjoying the actual concert portion of our weekend is about to begin. For the scroll down averse, here's a handy list linking to all the write ups, garnished with posters and set times. Once more, with feeling...

Tonight @ Union Hall

De Novo Dahl 11 PM
Thrushes 10 PM
Mancino 9 PM
El Jezel 8 PM

DJ Sets from Matt Earfarm and Danny from the Big Sleep. Cheeeeap beer.

Tomorrow at Union Hall

Ola Podrida 11 PM
Via Audio 10 PM
Tacks, the Boy Disaster 9 PM
Botany Bay 8 PM

DJ Sets by the Rich Girls are Weeping. Cheeeap Beer, encore.

Oh, and I know I said I wasn't going to give you any hints in regard to the guest stars that will litter Via Audio's set, but I have one...it's Jim Eno from Spoon!!!

Any guesses? Wait, I think I gave it away...

Lines for tonight's give away are now closed, but you can still eek in under the wire for free entrance to tomorrow's gig. Learn how here...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Our eighth and final Neon Lights bands (exhale) for this go round is Ola Podrida. Chief songwrier David Wingo had already established himself as a composer for the quietly adored films of indie director David Gordon Green (All the Real Girls, George Washington) by the time he got around to recording his arresting folk pop compositions in Austin, TX. Wingo roped a couple of old chums (Robert Patton and Matthew Frank) into returning to his in-between Texas home of Brooklyn in order to give the performance of those home recordings a go. Plug Research bit on the lovely set, releasing Ola Podrida in April. As the band is further fleshed by the addition of former American Analog Set members Andrew Kenny and Johnny Christ, our NL faithful are in for a delicate yet fulfilling treat.

Ola Podrida - "Photo Booth"

With an Iron & Wine strum and a voice that's the aural equivalent of a favorite bicycle slightly rusted, David sings of lazy days and casually lusty nights spent "down each others pants in the photo booth." While Brooklyn is no stranger to that sort of skeevy public groping, the surprising sweetness of the line's delivery places it far far away from the sticky city. Bent notes and an eventual organ swell give the song a charming rocking chair twang. It evokes the sort of hazy pastoral afternoon spent with a lover, lying in grass and watching the sun slowly depart, because that was the only activity you had penciled into the datebook.

Ola Podrida - "Cindy"

"Cindy" is not so genteel, although it starts out that way. As his narrative of a fire bug leaving her blazing home progresses, the band swells up behind Wingo. The rhythm section gains prominence, and the guitars pick up a hint of aggression. The story complicates itself, as instead of providing simple metaphor for cutting ties and moving on, our heroine returns to the inferno to fetch some forgotten library books. The lyrics cheekily suggest that late fee anxiety was the reason for the dangerous return, but I prefer to think that there are some thoughts, on loan or not, that can never be abandoned no matter the peril.

As with De Novo Dahl, it's almost easier to pull out a list of outlets Ola weren't critically smooched by. Select towers of judgment...

Spin
Pitchfork
Stylus Magazine
NPR
the Austin Chronicle
Gorilla vs Bear
Said the Gramophone

Also, Interpol totally ganked their cover art, so you should come and support them for karmic defense of all that is good.

To buy tickets right now to see Ola Podrida, along with Botany Bay, Tacks, the Boy Disaster, and Via Audio, go here. To roll the dice on getting in for free, read up here. For Saturday's show, we'll take entries all night and do our random selection in the morning time. For tonight's show, you have only a few more hours, so get on it!

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Helming the anchor leg of tonight's Neon Lights race are Nashville's own, De Novo Dahl. Following glowing reviews for their psych -pop debut album Cats & Kittens in 2005, the band has been pummeling a perpetually hot iron. Non-stop touring has lead them through the hype gauntlets of South by Southwest and CMJ, as well as landing them supporting gigs for genuine big shots such as Wilco and TV on the Radio. Big shots beget big shots it seems, as this steam roller momentum caught the famous ears of mega producer Dave Fridmann (Flaming Lips' Soft Bulletin, Sleater-Kinney's the Woods) and uber-mixer Tony Doogan (Belle and Sebastian's the Life Pursuit ). The renound duo lent their expertise to the band's not too far off debut on Roadrunner Records (home of the New York Dolls, and Megadeath!!!).

Behind a bio like that there are bound to be some damn fine songs. And hey, what do you know...

De Novo Dahl - "Shout"

The title track from the band's soon to be released Shout EP starts at its grandest point, with group singing that recalls Arcade Fire at their most anthemic, or the Polyphonic Spree after undergoing a 10 hour "new age hokum-ectomy." All smart song cobblers know that even a three-minute pop song can be tiresome when filled with perpetual bombast, so the song drops back. "Shout" 's verses, stuffed as they are with sly boy-girl harmonies, expertly placed blips and bloops, and pogo tempo bass can barely contain the vastness of those chorale peaks. In the end the verses lose out, and everyone else wins.

De Novo Dahl - "All Over Town"

"All Over Town" is a chiming glam-rock dreamboat. Joey Dahl quavering vocals immediately recall Mark Bolan, or maybe the Spacehog guy on that one song that unequivocally ruled. His band mates aren't keen to stand by and watch him primp, however. Gentle backing voices and brash riff-ery swoop in to maintain DND's signature bigness. Again, this scope is all the more impressive because the band is so convincing in their bursts of feigned minimalism. When the guitars drop out, leaving only a steady beat and scattered whispers to keep Joey company, you know the quietude can't last. Not that it stops you from acting surprised when your fists are inevitably forced skyward once again.

The band has been lovingly pawed at from all sides and the breadth of the notices is too vast to capture, so we'll stick with the best, brightest, and most thrillingly elitist;

Pitchfork
Stylus Magazine
Coke Machine Glow
Brooklyn Vegan
You Ain't No Picasso

Have I mentioned the fanciful 19th century one piece bath costumes? No? A teasing glimpse of the red and yellow icing on the already tasty cake...

To buy tickets right now for tonight's show, also featuring El Jezel, Mancino, and Thrushes, go here. To attempt to sneak in for free, check the rules of our giveaway here.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

As I'm neurotically concerned that you people just do not trust me (despite the overwhelming evidence of authority given to you by your lying ears), I make it a point to fill this Neon Lights profiles with indisputable evidence that the JK / MS seal of approval is merely one from a multitude. But this approach hits a rather large wall when we come to the case of Saturday night's first band, Botany Bay. Of course, main B. Bay resident Eric Schwortz has left a pixel trail deep and wide as the Silicon Valley with his other fine troupe, the Secret Life of Sofia (celebrated in story and song here, here, and here, for starters). But Botany Bay is new. Brand new. Original packaging new. Debut performance new.

The only one who's yet to go out on this particular embryonic limb is my trusted tag team partner D, and we all know how good her balance is...

Botany Bay - "Old Age is for the Birds"

BB's sad elegy for all of our inevitable declines fittingly starts with an anxious bare bones strum. Schwortz's sad and rich vocal tones recall sad and dead indie icon Elliott Smith's, though he's definitely not singing to the floor as Smith sometimes would. When approaching the lovely double tracked chorus, the guitars get choppy as if they've just had a sip of the hip new cola drink and are ready to rage up, arthritis be damned. But reality sets in, backs remember their knots, and slower, more deliberate playing resumes, anger melting quickly into regret A first act intriguing enough that Saturday's late comers will kick themselves over missing the second.

To buy tickets right now to see Botany Bay, along with Tacks, the Boy Disaster, Via Audio, and Ola Podrida, go here. To roll the dice on getting in for free, read up here.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The third Friday night 'Lights band to fall under this site's spotlight is Brooklyn's own Mancino. The Man' clan specialize in keyboard lead, turn on a dime, herky jerky whirlwinds with a side order of sweet 60's songcraft. Their recently uncaged debut, Manners Matter, is filled to the brim with that sort of thing. You can buy it here. A couple for free, 'cause I'm fond of you, and I'd love to see you out on Friday. Uh, just on a personal basis with absolutely no ulterior motives, of course.

Anyway...

Mancino - "L'Amour (or Less)

Nothing like proud recorder notes to start a nervous pop song, especially when paired with the fluctuating sci-fi sounds from some sort of oscillator contraption. From there, it's all lovable synth geekery, an undying backbeat, and insidiously catchy murmurs of "yeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah." It may be even better when it switches to waltz pace on the chorus though. It's almost smooth then, like when Steve Urkel built the machine to transmogrify himself into Stephan Ur-KEL. Or like the Jerry Lewis movie they ripped that off from. Not like the tubby Eddie Murphy remake though. These guys sound svelte.

Mancino - "Hetchie Hutchie Footchie"

Instead of one more round of my "dancing about architecture," let's kick back and watch some actual old time-y dancing, with some wildly amusing caption work in this video for would be teen dance craze, "Hetchie Hutchie Footchie." The song it represents is an epileptic tutorial that wouldn't be necessarily aided by my extrapolations anyway.

The mp3 below...

Mancino - "Hetchie Hutchie Footchie"

Some long standing cultural institutions have weighed in on Mancino's behalf;

Spin Magazine (Artist of the Day)
CMJ

As well as some of these fly by night "weblog" things you've heard so much about;

Gorilla vs Bear
My Old Kentucky Blog
Earfarm
Nerd Litter
HIts in the Car

Program note: Due to the horrible demands of, you know, life, Mancino will be playing in a stripped two-man configuration that promises to be no less awesomely spastic.

To buy tickets right now for Friday's show, also featuring El Jezel, Thrushes, and De Novo Dahl go here. To attempt to sneak in for free, check the rules of our giveaway here.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 06:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Saturday night's penultimate band are Brooklynites by way of Boston, Via Audio. I said previously that Saturday would have a bit of Texan connective tissue running through the bill, and as our sharp patrons know, Boston and Brooklyn ain't in Texas. Via Audio get their Lone Star cred on loan from Spoon's drummer/producer Jim Eno. Baby James was so enamored with the band's self titled EP that he searched our kids out and offered his knob twiddling expertise for their full length debut. The product of that agreement is Say Something, due out on Sidecho Records in September. A taste...

Via Audio - "Modern Day Saint"

This track starts with a bang and ends with a whisper. The rhythmic jabbing riffs at the beginning fake that the Spoon connection is more than just technical. As the song unfolds, you realize that the main similarity between the two groups is really just a commitment to immaculate indie pop. The breezy boy/girl vocals and the "everyone in the studio must sing" chorus are a communal puppy dog party. The bent notes and snaking guitar lines that soon intrude are like a single shaky shopping cart wheel. Smooth togetherness wins out in the end, as gentle oohs pile on, cloud stacked on top of fluffy cloud.

Via Audio - "Developing Active People"

From the EP that kickstarted their good fortune, "Developing Active People" adds electronic flourishes to the doe eyed cross gender interaction. Underneath the pretty harmonies and suspended strum, synths that slowly bleed power as they go strive to choke out their catchiest refrain before going black forever. Their presence is missed, but admirably paid tribute to by even more wind nudged melody.

A long list of sites have signed off on Via Audio. The sheer magnitude of such endorsements got them a spot in Idolator's Track Marks feature as that week's "Biggest Band in the World." A smattering...

My Old Kentucky Blog
Earfarm
RySpace
Largehearted Boy
I Rock I Roll
Chromewaves
the Yellow Stereo

For a list of band member turn ons, (nearly rendered entirely theoretical by a 90's Image comics reference that proves some hip deep nerdiness) go to Hipsterotica

Hardcore Via Audio fans take note, Saturday's performance will be a one time only sort of affair, with an altered line-up and a promised cavalcade of guest stars. No hints from me, jack.

To buy tickets right now for Saturday's bill, also featuring sets from Botany Bay, Tacks, the Boy Disaster, and Ola Podrida go here. To have a chance at winning entrance as well as an armload of goodies, read the give away rules here.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The top of Friday night's Neon Lights bill features not one but two stellar bands traveling in from exotic lands. The shoegaze sweethearts known as Thrushes come to us from the faraway wilds of Baltimore. Their debut album, Sun Come Undone, has been circling on selective stereos from Brooklyn to Beijing since Spring, but in case you need a sampler...

Thrushes - "Aidan Quinn"

The gross indifference and tragic haircut of Brad Pitt's lame movie brother hardly deserve the tribute given by Anna Conner's honeydew vocals, let alone the sturdy beat and gentle instrumental swoon that frames it at the song's onset. "You've given up on me," she tells our Irish-American idol, before Casey Harvey's protective guitar squeals spring to her defense. He backs off for another minute or so, allowing Conner to be beautifully alone with the reality of her Quinn buyer's remorse, which morphs finally into disembodied "oohs," over rhythm inching towards a gallop. White noise in sheets, like sparks from cut metal, rain down on the track's final seconds, leaving Aidan's actual transgression sweetly mysterious.

Thrushes - "Heartbeats"

You may think that you don't have room in your actual blood box for another song called "Heartbeats," but it's not like you have a choice in the matter. When word leaked that Jesus and Mary Chain's Reid Brothers would be recording an album with their little sister, this is the sound of the collective daydream that followed. Idolator said that, "anyone who has fond memories of 4AD will be all over this." I do, and I am. I have faith that the assembled masses will quickly agree. There's a temptation to call them the night's sleeper pick, if they hadn't gotten a lot more of that sort of high-quality attention.

That aforementioned more:

- Because rarely, only rarely, the NME can be kind of cool, you can vote Thrushes as an "NME Breaking Band" by going here.

Hype dealers of the domestic variety:
Baltimore City Paper
Largehearted Boy
Obscure Sound
Instrumental Analysis
Off the Record Magazine

and for our thriving Cantonese readership...

the Little Strawberry Planet

You can buy tickets right now to see Thrushes, along with El Jezel, Mancino, and De Novo Dahl, by going to the Ticketweb page located here.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Note: "Prizes for Some!!" is not the name of a band that will be playing one of the two Neon Lights gigs at Union Hall this weekend. Garage dwelling upstarts, take it, it's yours.

No, I refer to the fact that this very website will be giving away two sets of grab bags for each night of Neon goodness. Included will be a +1 guestlist spot, and a surprise combination of audio, visual, and wearable merchandise from each of the bands playing. There will be CD's, there will be t-shirts, there may even be split 7" singles. There will absolutely be buttons.

To enter, just send me an e-mail @ jeffk at merryswankster.com, with the subject header - "Neon Lights giveaway 7/6" or "Neon Lights giveaway 7/7" depending on which night has piqued your fancy. You can also send us a message through MySpace. Our page is here. Winners will be selected at random on Friday afternoon, once I've excluded people that I know personally. That means you, Anderson Cooper!

More fancy piquing testimonials for the rest of the weekend's bands coming at you shortly...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Switching gears to Friday night's Neon Lights line-up, we'll first feature Astoria's finest, El Jezel. Jessica, Dan, and George form the versatile three piece, who produced last year's stellar post-rock flavored epic Elements of Being Put Together. Let's sample a few tracks and discuss, shall we?

El Jezel - "Michigan"

For a band who readily admit in their song's first line to only visiting the Wolverine State once, El Jezel sure has a lot of Michigan-centric angst to work out. The resentment practically drips from the walls of the cavern in which the drums were apparently recorded. The brooding bass line glowers intently from behind its bangs. Only the guitars are putting on a passable poker face, but even the strings can't keep it up. Around the 1:20 mark, the fake smile turns into a vicious snarl, signaling the drum kit that the time for maintaining one's cool has now passed. A smashing climax emerges from nowhere, the sort of maelstrom on a dime that made the word Mogwai more than just a piece of 80's film trivia. This fury can't go on indefinitely, of course, and the track momentarily retreats back to its passive aggressive whispers. It's a false reprieve though, as this cycle of build and release goes on for an emotionally fraught 6 minutes before sulking off into the sunset.

El Jezel - "Oleta"

"Oleta," on the other hand, is all simmering humidity, never given the thunderclap of release it so desperately desires. The still vaguely peeved rhythm section is held in check by icy synth notes and codeine dulled guitars. Breathy female vocals emerge this time, lightly cooing a Spanglish lullaby. Halfway through, the sleep dust evaporates, oomph quickly accumulating in the drum and guitar. It never breaks though, building to the last fade out, suggesting even more than it's willing to give.

If my vouchers might strike you as untrustworthy somehow, I offer these alternate sources of confirmation;

Earfarm
Cracker's United
Mercurial Sound
StereoactiveNYC
Subinev

Of course, if it's a character reference you're looking for, I can think of none better than the following clip. As art teacher for the grade school set, Jessica hooked the band up with a sweet gig indoctrinating young folks in the ways of the rock. Correctly guessing that sweeping post rock might not go over so hot with the eight year olds, the band snaps into an equally convincing dance rock style. The light's a little murky, but there's enough shine to make out the kids going stone bonkers.

El Jezel - "Obsessive"

You can buy tickets right now to see El Jezel along with Mancino, Thrushes, and De Novo Dahl, by going here. Freebies from the rest are forthcoming...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The time has come once again for the animated salesmanship that springs forth every time d and myself throw one of our Neon Lights extravaganzas. Seeing as our Union Hall debut this weekend will feature two shows and two nights to be excited about, the anticipation levels are so great that they've got me a tad muddled. Instead of proceeding in a calm, business like manner through the running order of the two bills I will be throwing terrific bands at you in a manner some might deem "willy-nilly."

Bah, convention be damned!

We start with a band from Saturday's menagerie...

As will become quickly apparent, Saturday's line-up has a bit of an Austin, TX bent to it. The only current Texans, however, will be the fine gentleman of Tacks, the Boy Disaster. Lead songwriter Evan Jacobs (short interview with EJ here) spent some time in the trenches with acclaimed Texas exports the Polyphonic Spree and Midlake before venturing out with a group all his own. His piano-driven songs are plainly beautiful, but not simplistic in the least. From last year's beloved Oh, Beatrice EP, we have two prime examples...

Tacks, the Boy Disaster - "Paris"

"Paris" features a deceptively propulsive beat, hanging in the background behind acoustic guitars, a hanging piano loop, and Jacob's dare I say Art Garfunkel gone Elephant 6 vocal. The most exciting thing about the song is how its sound organically swells and ebbs, incorporating pretty vocal melodies and delicate instrumentation, but never breaking into overblown syrupy sweetness. It's sad, but not lonely...

Tacks, the Boy Disaster - "Frozen Feet"

Picking up the pace a smidge, we also have the hand clap and organ accented "Frozen Feet." Always pretty, yet never only that.

For the more visually inclined, we have this lovely video, as well;

Tacks, the Boy Disaster - "Forgetmenot"

Far from an uncorroborated whim of ours, Tacks, the Boy Disaster has been loved promiscuously by media outlets blog and not. Choice selections from the choir...

the Austin Chronicle
the Daily Texan
Fluxblog
Stereogum
Gorilla vs. Bear
My Old Kentucky Blog

The band also recorded a session for the rightly esteemed Daytrotter.com. Four songs free to download live on perpetually in their archives, here.

Well, I think that's a tidy lump of information and media right there. The won over patron (or longtime fan) can get tickets right now for this Saturday night's show, also featuring the soon to be profiled Botany Bay, Via Audio, and Ola Podrida, at this Ticket Web hub.

Stay tuned all week for further arm twisting/ just plain old good music....

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As loyal readers already know, next weekend will see the Brooklyn debut of the Neon Lights Presents... concert series. We're taking over Union Hall for a two night Friday and Saturday stand, and bringing in acts from all over the place to assure memorability. As is my custom, I will provide an in-depth look at each and every band on either bill next week. Links, reviews, mp3's, you name it. As we've got eight bands to discuss (in addition to our regularly scheduled posts and features) it's going to be a busy week.

For now, those of you who trust me explicitly can just buy tickets through Ticket Web already;

- Friday, July 6th - HERE

- Saturday, July 7th - HERE

You skeptical bastards who need to be reminded of our stellar track record are invited to go over to the website for Public Radio International's Fair Game program to listen to (and download) a 4 song session from distinguished NL alumnus, A Sunny Day in Glasgow. The session benefits from a cleanly recorded studio set-up that gives the band a sparser, crisper sound without completely losing the fuzz that we hold so dear. Particularly benefitting from the pare down is Scribble Mural Comic Journal's, "A Mundane Phone Call to Jack Parsons." Ben Daniels dueting, and occasionally talking under, a lone present sister is brighter and clearer than previous renditions. With the sonic clatter swept up a bit, it's much easier to focus on the lyrics, which are actually quite amusing, as it turns out.

A Sunny Day in Glasgow - "A Mundane Phone Call to Jack Parsons" (Fair Game Session)

Matt Fluxblog recently pointed out that the session's version of the song "Hugs and Kisses" (from the band's July Tout New Age EP) is also quite nice. To hear its recorded counterpart, with piano assistance from the kids' mother, go here.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You know the sense of nervous dread you've been carrying around? The feeling that even though there hasn't been a Neon Lights Presents... show on US soil in the past four months, that you'll never be truly safe from unexpected attacks of awesome? Well, your most paranoid fantasies have been confirmed.

D and I have been nefariously plotting away indeed, and the time to unleash our evil schemes is at hand...

On Friday, July 6th, Neon Lights will make its Brooklyn debut, bringing a stellar line-up to the stage of Park Slope's Union Hall. Here is said line-up:

De Novo Dahl 11 PM
Mancino 10 PM
Thrushes 9 PM
El Jezel 8 PM

OK, so that's swell, right? You're gonna head on down for a some great bands, cheap drinks, and the bloodsport that is an ongoing DJ battle between Matt Earfarm and Danny, guitarist for the Big Sleep. Then you'll strut back home, catch your breath and wait for us to emerge again...

Like we will on Saturday, July 7th, perhaps?

Oh, snap!

They gve us an inch, and we took the whole weekend. Saturday's bill:

Ola Podrida 11 PM
Via Audio 10 PM
Tacks, the Boy Disaster 9 PM
Botany Bay 8 PM

Providing vinyl wallpaper for this vaguely Austin themed evening will be our favorite Texas ex-pats, Cindy Hotpoint and Pinkie von Bloom of the Rich Girls are Weeping.

Now how much would you pay?

Well, you're gonna pay 10 bucks a pop, so that answers that. Because we are moving up in the world, you can buy advance tickets for both nights at Ticketweb. For the Friday show, go here. For the Saturday show, here. Unless we sell the mutha out, you'll be able to buy tickets at the door. But it won't compare to the feeling of security and pride you'll get from being a big man, on the list.

There will be much discussion of this momentous weekend in the days to come; individual bios, mp3's, and general hype man enthusiasm galore. But I don't want to startle you with too much goodness right away. Our readers are skittish does, and that's how we like them. For now, follow the provided band links, do a little research, and check this spot often. Be our MySpace pals if you like.

I will be bringing this up again.

Previously: Neon Lights #1 wrap-up, Neon Lights #2 wrap-up

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

...to Neon Lights alumni and all around nice kids, A Sunny Day in Glasgow, for their well deserved Pitchfork close up this morning. The concert promoter in me wonders if it would have killed the Fork to throw this one up on the album's actual release date (i.e. before the show), but mainly there's only warm wishes.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

photos by Devon Banks

Hi folks. I know you've been out there empty and alone, anticipating the long awaited wrap up of the February 17th Neon Lights show. My time spent ignoring my recap duties was relaxing, but I understand the need for closure after the steep buildup. So here.

In short, it was a full room, a good show, a fun night. As with before, my up close and personal role in pulling the thing together combined with some frazzled show night running around makes either an unbiased or comprehensive account completely unrealistic. As long you're cool with that, by all means proceed.

Please Dept.

The night began, a bit late I'll admit, with the Please Dept. The double keyboard assault I was ready for, the dueling drum volleys I most certainly was not. On record the songs are bizarre and theatrical, but in concert they were total synth punk. Chris Hembree refused to keep his chair firmly on the ground, throwing his weight into every ivory pound. His gal Friday, Georgia Kirtland, accompanied with keyboard, cowbell, odd mouth noise, or the aforementioned mini drum bash as needed. Brainy lyrics + focused live energy + surprisingly filthy stage banter + no need for guitars = sweet opening act.

A vastly underrated New York band. You should really do your part to change that by checking them out around town. They're playing the Knit on April 26th if you want to be venue snobs about it.

// Please Dept. - MySpace

the Muggabears

One night earlier at the Muggabears' Union Hall show, Travis Johnson rocked as hard as he could possibly rock, leading to his mid-song pass out. Rather than cower in fear of their own self-devastation and perhaps toy around with some Carpenters covers, they decided to lead off with "Dead Kid Kicks." The very number that KO'd their front man. That's the stuff of inspirational sports movies, people. I know this not from first hand witness, but because I felt the song pound through the floor and up through my legs as I sat at the ticket counter. So, its safe to say that they weren't holding back. When I did finally make it down, the charming kids were making some noise indeed. Romantically confrontational noise. Glamorously damaged noise. Melodically brutal noise. Loud noise.

And yea, twas good...

Some video of the 'bears set here, with thanks to Matt from Earfarm.

// the Muggabears - MySpace

Apache Beat

Although the wee bit of material from Apache Beat that we'd heard before eagerly bringing them into the fold was very encouraging, it was a relief when they arrived on the Delancey stage fully formed. The whole set was remarkably tight. I've got no clue how to refer specifically to song after song of unknown material. However, I did like the one with the aggressive but sprightly guitar, commanding but unusual rhythm, and intense vocal authority from front gal Ilirjana Alushaj (aka every song). Especially good (and not just 'cause it was the one we knew) was single "Tropics." The beat was faster, less of an exotic texture and more of a crazed motor.

You'll be seeing and hearing them all over town in the year to come. Write it down now, and respect me even more when I'm inevitably correct.

// Apace Beat - MySpace

A Sunny Day in Glasgow

I feel like the delicate oddness that A Sunny Day in Glasgow cultivate on record may never be completely captured in a live setting. Maybe some day a team of dedicated sound warriors might follow the kids around on a world tour and finally crack it at the St. Petersburg gig, only to have it slip through their fingers the next night leading them forever to drink. As it was the band played to the strengths that the recordings bury in their lovely layers. A rollicking drum fill here, a huge guitar wash there, a crystal keyboard tone to the middle, and the sweet melodies of the Daniels sisters throughout. Especially surprising was the almost Tom Tom Club funk level of the streamlined live "Lists, Plans."

Matt Fluxblog recounted the set in more timely detail in a post here.

// A Sunny Day in Glasgow - MySpace

And that, as they say, was that. Jay Drake (Cassettes Won't Listen if you're nasty) tried valiantly to prolong the party, but some unknown flaw between his decks and the soundsystem made it sound like ASDIG's vicious mandolin playing simultaneously blew every speaker. So, we went and got a beer instead. Such is life.

In closing, thanks to the bands, the DJ's (the Rich Girls are Weeping were swell all night by the way), and everyone who came out. The pleasure was ours. D and I'll turn up again eventually, and we won't be shy about letting you know.

// Neon Lights - MySpace

Many more lovely pictures after the jump, several hundred more on my hard drive (no joke).

Continue reading "Hey, about that last Neon Lights show..." »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

At this point I'm sure hype fatigue has set in, so I'll shut my trap and just give you a handy link guide to the band profiles that have come to pass:

- A Sunny Day in Glasgow (11:30)
- Apache Beat (10:30)
- the Muggabears (9:30)
- Please Dept. (8:30)

Even more info can be found at our MySpace page here. Be our friend why don'tcha?

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Regular readers of this site will need no introduction for Saturday's final Neon Lights act, A Sunny Day in Glasgow. We've been following the exploits of Ben Daniels, his sisters, and their Philadelphia posse for almost a year now. Neon Lights couldn't be prouder to present the record release show for the stellar new album Scribble Mural Comic Journal (which happens to be the group's only NYC appearance). You can buy it now on iTunes, eMusic, and maybe even at what our ancestors used to call "a record store." Because I'm completely out of different ways to say "ethereally pretty" here's the previous attempts...

A Sunny Day in Glasgow - "A Mundane Phone Call to Jack Parsons"

Original MS post

A Sunny Day in Glasgow - "Game of Pricks" (Guided by Voices cover)

Original MS post

A Sunny Day in Glasgow - "Watery (Drowning is Just Another Word for Being Buried Alive Under Water)"

Original MS post

Plus, an interview with Ben Daniels...

I'm certainly not the only impressed. Check out this murderer's row:

Pitchfork
Allmusic.com
Prefix (full disclosure, I wrote this one...)
Idolator
Fluxblog
Gorilla vs. Bear
Marathonpacks
the Rich Girls are Weeping
Cracker's United
Chromewaves

This is not to mention publications so esteemed as to not have linkable web versions of their accolades. Just to give you two, real quick like;

XLR8R Magazine:

"Philly's A Sunny Day in Glasgow is dreamy. Their The Sunniest Day Ever EP is both creepy and awe-inspiring, with tracks like "C'mon," where atonal My Bloody Valentine noise rubs up against melodic pop. The quartet masters the clouds like no other."

Under the Radar Magazine:

"Captivating. Stunning. A Sunny Day in Glasgow has single-handedly returned the shoegazer genre to its former glory. One of the best releases of 2006!"

Believe me, I could go on providing you examples like this all day. I think the case has been made, however. You should either come down to the Delancey this Saturday (Delancey between Clinton and Attorney, by the way) or be forever injured by your stunning desire to be hit in the face repeatedly by reliable recommendations while remaining completely unmoved.

Remember: WNYU (89.1) will again today be giving away the ASDIG album, a guestlist spot for the show, and much more. So tune in the New Afternoon Show (4-7PM EST) for your chance to win. If that doesn't work out go to Breakthru Radio and listen to the Blog Show for yet another chance. We are very forgiving...

// A Sunny Day in Glasgow - Scribble Mural Comic Journal buy
// A Sunny Day in Glasgow - MySpace
// Neon Lights - MySpace

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The wild card of the Neon Lights bill is the enigma known as Apache Beat. Ilirjana Alushaj, a front woman so stylish she co-helms her own fiendishly mod publication, leads this troupe into their sixth month of existence. Already, they've been singled out for praise by the likes of Vice (UK), Dazed and Confused, and NME's made up genre czars, Klaxons who included them in a list of their favorite songs in a recent issue of XLR8R. They are snubbing us oh so pedestrian Yanks to release a 7" single on the fast rising Montreal label Summer Lovers Unlimited that should drop veeeery soon.

The single in question, aka "Tropics," is so top secret that I can't even give it to you straight up. I can however lead you horses to water, and describe said water in such detail that you will be forced to drink. (It is also so top secret that you can listen on their MySpace as well, but allow me my dramatic flourishes)

Apache Beat - "Tropics"
(streaming audio @ Dazed Digital)

I don't think we're talking about a health spa/ resort here. The guitar siren screams anxiety and when paired with the almost suspiciously relaxed tribal percussion, well it doesn't look so hot for our tropical visitor. I.A.'s voice has a kind of laid back authority, she's not breaking a sweat exactly, but you wouldn't want to mess with her. Especially after you can almost picture her eyes roll back into her head on the "uhhhh-uh-uh-uh-uh" part. There a break from the intimidation, with a relatively light and bounding bridge. A captive might start to relax a bit. Ilirjana's vocal return squashes that. It turns out that middle section was the dance they do before the sacrifice...

So what else does the Beat have in store for us? If the demo track of "Nightengale" that they've 'spaced is any indication it's more mysterious, rhythmically advanced post punk goodness. Come see them Saturday, before they decide that we're all totally boring and refuse to return from their mini Canadian tour in March...

// Apache Beat - MySpace

Also: Penny pinching ticket coveters take note. Today, on WNYU (89.1 on your radio dial), the fine folks at the New Afternoon Show will be giving away a fine Neon Lights gift pack featuring:

- Guestlist spots for Saturday's show
- A copy of A Sunny Day in Glasgow's Scribble Mural Comic Journal
- A copy of the Muggabears Teenage Cop EP
- A copy of Please Dept.'s A Fast One on Julian
- More stickers than you can handle!

The show runs from 4-7 PM, but a little birdy who works at the station told me that tonight's give away will likely come in the 6-7 o'clock hour. Then, they are doing it again tomorrow! Again, tomorrow sees the debut of the afforementioned Blog Show on Breakthru Radio, where more giftpacks will be given! We must be out of our minds!!

But I was dead serious about that bird at WNYU. It's really quite amazing that a small bird can hold down a radio job, and communicate in lovely English. There's a biopic in the works starring William H. Macy...

// Neon Lights - MySpace

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Our second Neon Lights band, the Muggabears, have been tearing the New York rock scene asunder for a few years now, earning praise from print media (Time Out New York, L Magazine), and blog types (too many to list here completely) alike. The sinister guitar precision and unpredictable dynamic shifts of last year's Teenage Cop EP drew favorable comparisons to Mt. Rushmore types like Sonic Youth and Pavement. A sweet spot we can all enjoy. Not ones to rest on their accolades for long, the fetching Brooklynites slunk back into the woods to unleash more righteous noise...

Now, they've have emerged from their recording cave surlier than ever. The product of their short creative hibernation is the ripping Night Choreography EP due out late-March, early-April-ish. It's already been praised a bit by 'net clairvoyants, but since we're tight, here's a track directly...

the Muggabears - "Dead Kid Kicks"

My favorite song from Night Choreography sounds like it's spoiling for a fight. It saunters into the saloon on a cocky guitar riff, spurs jangling with every boot step. The drums egg the riff on, so that even when Travis Johnson casually asserts his desire to be left alone, you know that's not how it's going to play out. The tension builds slowly and continually, people at surrounding tables now stopping their conversations to eavesdrop. Then, at the halfway mark, all hell breaks loose at the slightest provocation. Drum fills crashing, riffs thrown wildly, bar stools wielded as bludgeons. By the last feedback squall the place is in shambles. Those who got out early have a story to tell...

Also: The 'bears are going to be gently rocking an acoustic set tonight at the taping of the Blog Show on super hip internet station, Breakthru Radio (too hip for proper spelling!). The show will debut at noon on Thursday and be easily accessible anytime after, but knowing you jerks it'll probably leak Wednesday morning. You might even hear me cough out a couple sentences, if hearing bloggers speak is something of interest to you (and considering that you're listening to the Blog Show, this is a strong possibility). Of more interest, we'll be giving away a ticket or two for Saturday's show, as well as a mess of other NL band related goodies. More on this tomorrow...

// Muggabears - Teenage Cop EP buy
// Muggabears - website
// Muggabears - MySpace
// Neon Lights - MySpace

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So begins the week long hard sell in advance of Saturday's Neon Lights show. I gave you all the pertinent details last week, but now we lean in a little closer to our featured bands and get comfortable. If you squint it'll look just like a normal MS post, what with the words and music and all.

Kicking off festivities at the Delancey this round are my fellow Brooklynites, the Please Dept. You can read a review of their oddly memorable 2006 debut, A Fast One on Julian, here. For our purposes, a few selections from said record should do. Shall we?

Please Dept. - "Sailor's Mouth"

This catchy track uses old fashioned piano in a theatrical way that wouldn't sound foreign un-subtly soundtracking the advance of sinister Indians in a Nickelodeon's moving picture show. While it has a certain sonic similarity to some of the early songs on Bitter Tea, the melody isn't lost in claustrophobic wordiness or backwards shenanigans. The manic energy on display is the real selling point. That and the fact that despite some early protests about sharing a barrack with a Navy man, it's still pretty clearly about making out with sailors.

Please Dept. - "A Big Deposit"

After pairing a tin soldier drum beat with a menagerie of spastic synth tones, "A Big Deposit" doesn't so much present you with its central melody as pelt your ear with it savagely. It gathers even more strength past the 1:10 mark when multiple voices jump in to make unsettling remarks about dying Christmas trees with their lights strung up "like convicted people." At this point the pounding keyboard line gains even more insistence, despite seeming to survive several falls down a series of winding staircases. Chris Hembree enjoys this instrumental torture though, and the sadist's frenzied delivery relaxes into an easy lilt for a bit as he surveys the wreckage. It reminds him to "thank (his) bank teller", apparently. Best of all is the march to the finish, where the brutal ivory concussion is echoed by frantic but faded "ooh ooh oohs" It's as if the ghosts of all the pianos who've died at the Please Dept.'s whims were forgiving enough to return for a quick collaboration.

To get in on the toe tapping synthesizer punishment, be at the Delancey at the fairly reasonable door time of 8:00 PM. Drink specials will meet you there...

// Please Dept. A Fast One on Julian buy
// Please Dept. MySpace
// Neon Lights MySpace

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thieves Like Us and an appreciative fan of their drumming.

photos by Devon Banks

Well, I'd like to think that my non-stop shilling in the run up to last Friday's inaugural Neon Lights show had alot to do with the strong turnout, but realistically I think it's a fact that when you get alot of talented people together in the same room, people are going to be interested in coming there too, and drinking heavily. So much thanks to Bell, Lismore, Thieves Like Us, and the Ballet for being irresistible, and to DJ's Earfarm, Crumbcake, and Fluxblog, for maintaining the kind of perpetual motion that we all love. You can read Matt Earfarm's semi-comprehensive wrap up for his lofty DJ perch here, and marvel at the majesty of Matt Fluxblog's DJ set as well.

My partner in crime d has posted a much more timely review, so please read her take in all its glory. Which brings us to me...

Somewhere around posting the two hundredth notice brow beating the New York public into attending, I officially lost my ability to be objective about it. So any kind of "comprehensive write up" I could offer you would be painted so thickly with the proud parent brush as to be completely unreliable as a factual document.

With that in mind, I soldier on...

Bell

Due to a long stint responsibly manning the door, my view of Olga Bell's set was sliced into short pieces. Of course any sane observer needed only a song or two to realize that she was destined for big things. The intimacy of the recorded tracks didn't prepare me for how room filling Bell's pipes would actually be in person. Even those lurking towards the back of the room, trying to play it cool, were pinned down and forcibly charmed. The live rendition of the previously posted "Expanding File" was a highlight for me, its forays into thumping electronica calmed down by the milk and honey vocals.

I'm totally inconsolable over the fact that I missed her cover of Skee-lo's "I Wish". That song was drilled into my head repeatedly by teenage years spent idly gawking at MTV, carved into my memory banks waiting for the one moment years into the future where my intimate knowledge of its lyrics would one day be rewarded by their shocking appearance coming from the lips of a lovely young chanteuse. This destiny was unfulfilled, and now I shall never know true contentment.

Oh well.

Jessica Martins of Via Audio eventually pitched in on vocal harmonies, achieving their desired gorgeous layering effect. Before that, she watched and grinned with the rest of the assembled.

This was the default audience facial expression...

(Follow the link to read brief Bell agreement from my former DJ battle adversary Rachael, from the Underrated.)

Lismore

The fine folks of Lismore took stage next, in what was clearly the best dressed perfomance of the evening. Lead singer Penelope owned the black cap and tie ensemble, like an evil Andrews Sister, and her compatriots equalled her in their disaffected cool. As admirable as the icy reserve of the set majority was, the best moments for me were when the Jersey City-ites picked up the pace a little, as in new track "Cherry Bomb". A good sign for things to come.

Although she appears intimidating on stage, Penelope was as amiable as her Aussie lineage would suggest. We chatted briefly about the baffling honor of being a Hustler magazine music pick. Who knew that hardcore porn hounds were also into to glacial glitch pop? Or that the Flynt mags even had record reviews for that matter? I'm not just playing dumb, I promise...

Thieves Like Us

You could suss out the nationality of the Thieves Like Us members pretty easily. Super tall gent in the white patent leather jacket de-mystifying the keyboard by tilting it upwards; Swede. Super tall gent with long blond hair and wispy mustache beating the synth pads like they had insulted loganberries; Swede. Hype man in the middle, rocking the Kangol hat, print shirt, and jeans; Yank. But no matter the transparency of their national affiliations, TLU brought their hits. "Drugs in My Body", "Fass", and "Lady" were all trotted out in a dance-o-matic row, if I remember correctly. I dub synth pad Pontus the night's MVP, as no other single performer inspired the frenzied double metal hand signal accompanied by a screamed "DRUMMER!" as depicted in this post's top photo. Of course, it would be odd if anyone else but a drummer had that screamed at them, but we needed more specific screaming, is all I 'm saying. Pontus delivered.

the Ballet

The Ballet ended us off on a great note, sounding much crisper than they had when I saw them at the Cake Shop earlier this year. With songs as clever and catchy as those that litter Mattachine!, a sharp, faithful performance is going to kill. It did. They were a hit parade from the beginning, starting with "Personal", moving to "Cheating on Your Boyfriend", through "Corduroy", and onto the new MySpace featured charmer, "Murder at the Discotheque." Somehow I think the lack of a cello player pushes the group into tighter, more playful arrangement. He acknowledged as much in our recent interview, but I can attest for myself that the results were top notch non-stop pop! My night was a palindrome, as I soon went to resume my solitary perch atop the Delancey basement stairs, collecting cash from the tardy. I didn't have to be down there to know that the Ballet finished strong, as a cavalcade of drunk pals were well prepared to fill me in, on their way out.

So, after lingering about long enough to hear Fluxblog play my beloved "North American Scum", collect the felt banner, and bask for a second more in the night, it was done. Thanks again to everyone who made it out, a pox on those who did not.

Don't mourn us, we'll be back sooner than you think.

Check out more photos on Flickr here, and the come befriend Neon Lights on MySpace here. That way when the next show comes about, you'll be duly notified, and instead of swapping long winded recaps, we can just sort of nod knowingly at each other.

Hey, you know it just occurred to me that I still don't know what that last mystery drink special was...

// Bell - MySpace
// Lismore - MySpace, band site
// Thieves Like Us - MySpace, band site
// the Ballet - MySpace, band site

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

photo by Bao Nguyen

So, since you may have grown tired of my continual pimping of tonight's Neon Lights Presents... show (at the Delancey, 8 o'clock sharp), I've decided to up said pimping's intellectual content. I recently interviewed Greg Goldberg, the chief singer/ song writer of our final act, the Ballet.

It is long and interesting. These are facts. You will folllow the jump, read it in its entirety, become intrigued, and come to tonight's show. This is also a fact.

First, some audio for reference...

the Ballet - "I Hate the War"

...and now...

the MS Interview

Jeff Klingman: First of all, let me ask about the packaging for the Mattachine! album.(Each CD comes with hand printed art, cleverly fashioned from a manilla envelope). Is it important for fans to feel like they're getting something rare and lovingly crafted when they go to the trouble of tracking down your album?

Greg Goldberg: Well, I'd hate for anybody to be disappointed, but it wasn't like we thought "We need to make this special for it to be worthwhile to people." It's more like a kind of care wetry and put into everything we do. That the CD's are rare is more a function of our budget and the time it takes to produce them than it is a desire to create something limited or exclusive.

JK: Any plans for a wider release?

GG: No, but Mattachine! is on iTunes now. Can you get wider than that?

JK: If you'd allow me to demystify it, what's the meaning of the album's title?

GG: Mattachine refers to the Mattachine Society, which was the first gay liberation organization in the United
States.

JK: Ouch, I probably could have Googled that...Moving on....

You wrote and recorded the album in your apartment, right? How were you able to get such a polished production sound?

GG: Yes, it was all done in my apartment. I still don't really know what the difference between mixing and mastering is. But I've been home recording for a long long time. Like anything else, the more you do it, the better you get at it. Do you really think it sounds polished?

JK: I think so, but I have a high tolerance for lo-fi.

Is your goal strictly to make pure pop music? Would you ever be interested in pushing the Ballet' in to more experimental or harder edged directions?

GG: When I write a song I'm usually trying to find a catchy melody -- the right combination and spacing of words and notes. You probably don't have to be making pop music to do that.

JK: There are collaborations on the album from members of Voxtrot, the Baskervilles, and the Aislers Set. How did these come about?

GG: Linton from the Aisler's Set is a friend of ours from way back when. Rob from Baskervilles I met on the internet, and Ramesh from Voxtrot I also met on the internet. I mean basically I just asked people, "You want to come over and sing?"

Continue reading "An Interview With Greg Goldberg of the Ballet" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The third slice of our Friday night quartet of performers is NYC via Stockholm gents, Thieves Like Us. Taking name and inspiration from the work of New Order, TLU will be the workout in the middle of the evening, right as the cheap beer and whiskey combo starts to increase your dancefloor confidence.

To further entice you, and continue my unpredictability pledge, I give you a couple of videos to wet your proverbial whistle. You're free to wet your literal whistle as well, but that's a choice you're going to have to make for yourself...

(note: Mp3 was previously made available, here and here)

Thieves Like Us - "Drugs in My Body"

I'd posted this video a bit earlier in the year, but now that we all know each other so much better, I thought maybe you'd have a deeper appreciation. Oh, and this concert thing tomorrow makes it relevant too, I guess. Still a great, virally catchy song. Still a nicely ambiguous waster video.

Thieves Like Us - "Fass"

This even more oblique clip, made for "Drugs in My Body"'s b-side, is more overtly reminiscent of New Order's "just discovered dance music" phase. This video only gives you visual bits and pieces. Some dancing here, some lights there, an elbow I think. If you can manage to keep your head steady post drink specials, you should be able to make it out a little better on Friday. 8 o'clock at the Delancey, if I hadn't mentioned that...

// Thieves Like Us - MySpace
// Neon Lights - MySpace

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The second band on this Friday's Neon Lights bill are the glitchy dreamboats known as Lismore. Lismore will be making the treacherous journey in from Jersey City to join us at the Delancey. Their striking singer Penelope moved all the way from Australia. It would be rude to stand them up.

Yesterday, I gave you an original song from co- N. Lights star Bell, as I had already offered up her cover version. Today, in a stunning reversal, I give you a cover version from Lismore, as their originals can be easily obtained, here and here.

You never know how I will strike next!

Lismore - "1979" (Smashing Pumpkins cover)

You know this one makes you nostalgic already, but slowed down and screwed up by softly trickling synths, Lismore's version becomes even more of a melody bomb. It seems so deliberate and meditative that you're completely unprepared for the entrance of guitar strum and a good old fashioned drum kit around the three minute mark. If any one word springs to mind upon hearing the lullaby electronics and melancholy vocal purr, it's class. Mr. Corgan hasn't been within spitting distance of that one in a cool age.

People who aren't me have expressed their love for Lismore. Here's ten;

Fluxblog
All Music.com
3hive
Splendid Magazine
Encore Magazine
the Dope Fiend
Bricolage Fantasy
Earfarm
Free Indie.com
Hustler (no joke!)

Are we all liars? Well?

//Lismore - Website
//Lismore - MySpace
//Neon Lights - MySpace

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So, as I'm sure you all haven't forgotten, the inaugural edition of the Neon Lights concert series is happening this Friday, the 15th (8 o'clock), at the Delancey in Manhattan. Those of you already planning to attend will bear with me in smug satisfaction as I talk directly to the undecided.

What is wrong with you people?

The first act to grace our stage will be lissome ex-Russian Olga Bell. Backed by skittish electronics and humble piano, Bell's voice is strong and graceful. Her elegant laptop version of the Breakfast at Tiffany's classic "Moonriver" was featured in the announcement post a week or so ago, and is much more earnest and affecting than you might expect.

Now, an original...

Bell - "Expanding File"

After giving a short piano & hum headfake, rushing drums and electronic patterns streak under Bell's floating voice. As quick as they came, they disappear again, leaving a classic torch song moment in the vacuum. Her tone is clear and sad, and the ever shifting dynamic of the track punctuates a feeling of uncertainty. Multiple vocal tracks join in when the pace swells, and depart for the hazy piano close ups. It's a tricky little song, hard to grab hold of, restless even. That voice is a beacon though, providing a steady focus point, no matter what is transpiring around it.

You're going to want to hear it in person, so I suggest you get there early.

Previously: Neon Lights are Humming...

// Bell - MySpace
// Neon Lights - MySpace

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Since my partner in crime d let the cat out of the bag yesterday, this is hardly a world exclusive announcement, but it is very exciting nonetheless...

We've been working behind the scenes for weeks cobbling together a bill with all the loving craft that terminal mix tape makers like us can muster. The resulting endeavor, dubbed Neon Lights, will be a synth pop explosion of the first order. To make up for lack of announcement synchronicity, I've provided an all-new, all different post with different songs to sample, and even a limited edition, alternate version of the poster*. Go to her post to collect them all. We are comprehensive and varied.

I provide a convincing selection of songs here, to start you off, along with links to respective web homebases. Trust me, there will be much, much more information thrust at you about these bands in the days to come. For now, the goods...

the Ballet

"Cheating on Your Boyfriend" <

Thieves Like Us

"Lady" (mp3)

Lismore

"Far Off and Away" (mp3)

Bell

"Moonriver" (mp3)

Providing seamless musical entertainment throughout the evening will be first a heated cage match between DJ's Earfarm, and Colleen Crumbcake. Ever since Colleen threatened to "Eat Earfarm's children" at the press conference, there has been nothing but bad blood on this front. On the heels of the carnage, DJ Fluxblog will lead the dance party well into the evening. You are free to stay and dance after the bands to your heart's content, because we are not the ones cleaning up!

To fuel your enjoyment, our pals at the Delancey will be offering drink specials the night through. Early entrants can beer up with ease from 7:30 to 8:30, middle entrants (and already buzzed earlies) can make up for lost time with beer AND whiskey from 9:30 to 10:30, and staggering survivors will be rewarded with a mystery special at midnight. A mystery to me, even.

So consider yourself warned, and excited. Be our friend on MySpace! Alert your attractive co-workers!! Above all, show up!!!

We have two weeks to go, and I won't be afraid to repeat myself...

*much thanks to poster artist Emily Driscoll.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)