Wye Oak

Mar 11 / The Black Cat / Washington, DC

Baltimore’s Wye Oak make a squall of sound that suggests ample rehearsal space. Singer/guitarist Jenn Wasner confidently plows through her chorus-less grunge, letting up occasionally to allow the built-up noise unfurl, as she did that night, to an appreciative, mostly visiting Bmore crowd. Partner Andy Stack fills in the cracks with a right arm at drums and a left hand stamped down on various keys. It all pours into the wash of guitar and feedback, but without loosing too much definition. The NPR stream posted days later revealed a fairly hoarse Wasner at the mic, unfortunately battling a cold at the start of a large tour. We couldn’t hear her well enough to mind. Highlights included the title track from the new Civilian and the off-kilter, 11/8 jam “My Neighbor“.

The Joy Formidable

Mar 25 / The Black Cat / Washington, DC

Riding a wave of buzz including a Rolling Stone “Artist to Watch” feature and a prime slot on the NPR Music stage at SXSW, it was surprising that the upgrade in venue granted Welsh trio The Joy Formidable over last year’s DC show occurred within the same building (from Black Cat’s downstairs Backstage to upstairs Mainstage). But if spunky guitarist/vocalist Ritzy Bryan, bassist Rhydian Dafydd, and drummer Matt Thomas want to bring their winning brand of pulverizing pop to a capacity-800 bar just three months before they play to tens of thousands more at Glastonbury, then I’m there with bells on. Humerously working the back of the room (the coatcheck?) with emphatic between-riff fist pumps, Dafydd seemed especially anxious to take the festival stage. Bryan, who lived in DC onceuponatime, seemed more comfortable in front of the low ceiling-ed crowd, determined to build her stateside audience the honest way (outsized riffs notwithstanding.) Check out “Cradle“, “Austere“, and “I Don’t Want to See You Like This” from this year’s The Big Roar.

Gold Panda

Apr 2 / Red Palace / Washington, DC

A night of worldly dance grooves made all the more rare by the attic-like performance space at Red Palace: a NE DC bar that frequently hosts burlesque shows and has display cases of cat sculls and (faux) fetuses-in-jars all over the walls. Hunched over his laptop and sampler, Gold Panda spun a mostly continuous cloud of sound, the more headphones-y tracks from last year’s Lucky Shiner (Like “Parents“) nixed in favor of the meatier beats. Stuttering album opener “You” sure got the canned microbrew sippers moving, as did the sitar twangs of “India Lately“. For my money, I’d like to hear Gold Panda’s Eastern influence even more on record and in person. (He didn’t even play Shiner standout “Same Dream China“). But for an electronic DJ set in DC (Have you seen Dupont at 2:00 on a Saturday night?), this one felt fresh, inspired, and fun. (Great recent NPR piece on Gold Panda’s creative process here)

Yeah, about that. Think you might want to go ahead and take down that tweet, there, hip-hop magnate Russell Simmons? You know, the one that implicates you (and presumably everyone you talked to that night of nights) in knowing full well who it was bankrolling the soiree? Like, especially since Usher, Beyonce, and Mariah Carey have all been denying that they knew a thing about who exactly it was handing them millions of petro-dollars to perform for an hour each at a private New Years party on St. Barts? ‘Cause, you know, that Tweet is still up. And it kinda makes you look like an asshole.

 More multiple personality disorder in the stuffy Londoner version…

 …plus the obligatory Strangelove take:

 ”Help!”: 

“Can’t Buy Me Love”:

And the best of the lot, “A Hard Day’s Night”!:

Last month I sounded off on my distaste for Fleet Foxes’ choice in booking DC’s 3,700-seat DAR Constitution Hall instead of the more acoustically-friendly, third-of-the-size 9:30 Club. I also praised indie legends Low for resisting the temptations of the large venue in favor of the cozy Black Cat Mainstage (capacity 700).

There’s another side to this discussion, of course — when popular artists choose venues too small to accommodate their rabid audience — which DC is currently experiencing with at least three upcoming tours.

Iron & Wine, Beirut, and James Blake all recently announced DC dates for spring/summer that sold out nearly instantaneously. I&W booked the 9:30 Club where they could have probably filled DAR. (That one sold out in less than five minutes, trust me!) Beirut, a band with no new album and only a small handful of U.S. dates announced, quickly sold out a Black Cat show that should be held at the 9:30 club. (A Tuesday nighter three months from now, no less.) And dubstep wunderkind James Blake — recipient of a whopping 9.0 on Pitchfork for this self-titled debut — chose the ridiculously undersized Rock and Roll hotel (capacity 400) for his first U.S. tour.

Certainly the booming second-hand concert ticket market (which I also posted about) isn’t helping. Just one reseller, StubHub, currently shows 87 tickets for I&W on sale for a minimum of $85 (or, 7% of all tickets that were available at a markup — assuming a list price with fees of $40 — of at least 113%). Even worse, 75 tickets for James Blake (original price $15… OK, including fees, let’s call it $20) are currently on StubHub, priced from $93 (or 19% of all tickets at a minimum 310% above list!). Screen shot is below. What the frick?

We might also call this ticket scarcity a symptom of living in a comparatively large metro area. Other factors remaining equal, a tour of 1,200-seat clubs is going to sell out quicker in DC than in Minneapolis-St. Paul (a reason why I still prefer the concert scene in my home town). Hell, even Cake — the wieners behind “The Distance”, a song that is indeed fifteen years old — have sold out three dates at the 9:30 Club in April!

Ultimately, I don’t really know what I can do as a fan to set things right. Clearly, somebody is going to have to do something about these second hand markets. I realize that they serve a function in meeting excess demand (again, see this post), but what’s to keep the holders of the 75 tickets above from refusing to sell their James Blake stashes for ANY price below 3x the list? Will the show end up being a quarter empty?

Whether a band plays a dive bar near the train tracks or a concrete hockey stadium is a decision that’s probably best left to managers and the artists themselves. In an era when buzz can build and fade so quickly, it’s not always going to be an easy call. Iron and Wine have announced a second area show at the Ram’s Head in Baltimore, so at least they realize the mistake. But James Blake should have known better than to book a 400-seat room in DC: When your debut makes that big a critical splash, you lose your hole-in-the-wall touring privileges!

At least I’ve got my two tickets for Beirut in June. Yes, I’m going. No, I’m not going to trade with you! Scram!

Listening as I write to an actual mixtape of vintage world music created by Tanaka (it’s posted to the cassette-friendly site International Tapes), I’m definitely feeling the revival. In contrast to mp3 playlists, you don’t always know what you’re going to get with a mixtape. Song names, artists, and (most crucially) running times are all privileged information, dispensed by the curator at his or her pleasure.

So it goes with Jet Set Siempre No.1, an album of eight original disco and slow jam tracks by Tanaka. To reduce fast-forwarding, the songs are neatly divided into uptempo Side A (“For Dance”) and chillaxed Side B (“For Romance”). And like the meticulous mixtaper, Tanaka’s production is seamless, blending samples and live instruments into a warm wash of sound.

Layers of synth pulse beside LCD Soundsystem-caliber drum work on opener “All Night, All Right”. On that track and most others, Vocodor-filtered vocals provide through lines of verse and chorus, helping to distinguish from the obvious Daft Punk influence. (Although the circular structure on “I Want You (So Bad)” definitely sounds like a Discovery outtake.) The best of the dance tracks is probably “Neu Chicago”, a bouncy pastiche of danceable fragments held together by a sunny steel drum sample.

After the flip, the dozed instrumentals on Side B might be the best showcase of Tanaka’s eclectic taste. “Skinjob”, a seductive lounge number propelled  by an upright bassline, leads into the jauntier, Beta Band-flavored “International Heartbreaker”. “The Fourth Magi” is straight sex on a Moog, while the closer “Lonely for the High Scrapers” resumes the vocoder chirps of Side A in hopeful benediction: “On those nights when you get lonely / And you think that you’re the only / You’re not the only one.”

Will we see a Clive Tanaka tour this year? Many would be interested to know just who (if anyone) comprises the “orquesta” Jet Set is co-credited to. Either way, Tanaka has crafted 2011’s perfect party album, not to mention a mixtape for the permanent collection.

Available now on Tall Corn Music.

Suze is probably best remembered as being the girl on Dylan’s arm on the iconic Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan cover. But how about the luck at being muse for some of Dylan’s earliest, absolute best love songs, like “Boots of Spanish Leather”? Suze Rotolo died last Friday at the age of 67.

The crowds just gathered, their faces turned away
And they queue all day like dragons of disgust

All the women whispering
Wondering just what these young hot-heads want of us

For more on the protests in Madison (and actually for some good points from the other side), check out this recent Fresh Air interview: link

There is at least some fun 90′s nostalgia floating around as of late. I like the new Fred Armisen-Carrie Brownstein sketch show Portlandia (where “the dream of the 90′s is alive!“). And NPR just did a mondo podcast on the best of 90′s music that I recommend.

Washington, D.C.


Southern Rock stalwarts the Drive-By Truckers offer an explosive live show that is enjoyable to both diehard fan and dragged-along friend in refreshingly equal measure. In part it’s because the music comes from such a familiar, timeless place — where the grooves are straight-laced, the solos triumphant, and the sliding ring finger of Duane Allman never really left us.

Also, you can’t hear a single song lyric at a DBT’s show to save your life, so it doesn’t really matter if you’re not hip to most of the band’s staggering nine album catalogue. Blame that on a trifecta of screaming lead guitars, courtesy of Patterson Hood (Gibson SG), Mike Cooley (Fender), and John Neff (Gibson Les Paul, pedal steel). (To their credit, bassist Shonna Tucker, drummer Brad Morgan, and keyboardist Jay Gonzalez all play exceedingly loud too.)

It’s a shame we couldn’t hear more lyrics last Friday — Truckers songs tell impeccably crafted tales of gritty Southern redemption. (Like Hood’s “This Fucking Job”, which they mysteriously didn’t play!) But bugger that. My friends and I came to the 9:30 Club to have our faced melted by guitars, full stop. I even snuck in a flask of Jack for the occasion, tipping it way back as the barreling boogie of Cooley’s “3 Dimes Down” started in.

You’ve got to love a band that passes the mic between more than one lead singer: The songs follow each other that much quicker, and it seems like the group can keep up the energy forever. The Truckers have three singers, however (Tucker crooned a few, like”Dancin’ Ricky” from the new Go-Go Boots), and after two hours of punishing volume, you’re kind of ready for the houselights.

But that’s my problem. There were plenty of fans around me who knew the words to every song. Some may have even come back Saturday for the second sold-out Truckers gig. Such reverence might explain the unique choice in stage decoration: faux stained-glass windows inlaid with serpents, oversized kick drum decorated with a BDT’s logo… signposts to a true Southern Rock Revival.

Lia Ices’ stunning new album opens with the Brooklyn artist’s principle strengths: a soft crush of piano; a light, swooping melody; and Ices’ delicate mezzo-soprano, calling from an emotional space beyond the letter of the lyrics: Oh you know I need / your mystic mind.

The song, called “Love Is Won”, proceeds to layer additional instrumentation gradually – another key feature on nearly all of Grown Unknown’s nine tracks. In this case, it’s the sparest of drum and bass, some pulsing organ, and a collection of harmonies overlaid by Ices herself.

Often echo-laden and cast against moments of dramatic silence, the vocal approach on Grown will likely remind of Feist and Bat for Lashes. Ices sets herself apart, however, with an adventurous taste in accompaniment (sleigh bells and finger snaps on “Little Marriage”), as well as a penchant for songs that build and search, sometimes reaching a new time signature altogether: The infectious title track opens in a militaristic 4/4 of handclaps before shifting to a stilted 6/8 chorus section, courtesy of a lone acoustic guitar.

A slight complaint concerns the close cropping of a couple of song endings: For whatever reason, lead single “Daphne” craps out so suddenly that it threatens to nullify the piece’s impressive progression (not to mention a killer cameo from Jagjaguwar franchise player Justin Vernon). But a minor issue in an otherwise intoxicating listen.

Available now on Jagjaguwar. Catch Lia Ices on tour this spring with The Cave Singers, including March 30 at Red Palace in Northeast DC.