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 aloof as possible, 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 accomodation 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 lack of a 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 |