Getting Bands Past First Base Since 2006
Way back in 2007 we wrote an article on a plucky little New York band called Rich Girls. We even posted an MP3 of their soon-to-be classic pop hit “You & What’s His Name.” Well, now the band has gone and completed their album and they’re giving the whole damn thing away for zero dollars. Bam! That’s how things are done in 2008!
To get a five finger discount on the new album, just point your clicker here: http://www.richgirlsnyc.com/
Some times a small thing can really brighten your day. Like when you’re on your way to work and a train pulls into the station just as you come down the stairs. You don’t have to wait at all and you get a seat next to somebody who isn’t wearing too much cologne or talking loudly into a Bluetooth device. Or when you put on a pair of pants that you haven’t worn for a week or so and you find a five dollar bill in the pocket. When this happens, it’s kind of like an anonymous stranger is buying you a cup of coffee and a donut.
Of course, waking up in a pile of naked supermodels would be better. Heck, that would probably brighten your whole week. But occasionally you have to thank god for the small favors. It is in that spirit that I would like to offer up a little prayer of thanks for Community Gun from upstate New York. This scrappy band will shamble their way onto your stereo and win you over with an unexpected dash of style. I had already written them off when I saw the publicity photo of them playing next to their van in what looks like the parking lot of a local junior high. But I listened to a few tracks anyway and was surprised to find a band that sounds like a looser version of The Wallflowers, with a singer who sounds like Tom Waits before he started smoking.
Well, that was a nice surprise. Just like the five dollar bill I didn’t even know was there. Nice work guys. Now just let me know when you’ve got those supermodels ready for me.
MP3: ‘Before She Goes’
MP3: ‘Think Of Me’
There was a point in the not-too-distant past when being a DJ required a certain rarefied skill set. It wasn’t something that just anybody could do. In the beginning, the amount of technique involved - not to mention the cost of a pair of 1200s - kept all but the most dedicated aspiring DJs away. Then techno came along and showed how easy beat matching could be, which got a lot of people thinking, “Hey, I could do that!” Still, you needed a pretty impressive record collection if you wanted to be anything other than a wedding DJ, and spending all your free time hunting down rare white labels wasn’t something that everybody had the time and inclination to do.
Yet, by the mid-90s, a lot more people were taking a run at it. Record labels realized what was going on and started re-issuing hard to find albums and singles on readily available 200 gram vinyl. Every club, bar, restaurant and shoe store got their own set of turntables. When the iPod epidemic broke out around the turn of the century, it appeared that we had finally reached the DJ singularity. These days, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a DJ - especially in New York or San Francisco.
The thing is, a lot of these so-called DJs suck. A lot of them rely on compilations of 80s novelty songs. Others are oblivious to the nightclub or dance floor full of people they’re supposed to be entertaining. This particular breed of bad DJ will play a Beatles slow jam right up against something from the new Lil’ Wayne album just to prove how eclectic they are. And god help you if you get stuck listening to some stoner/hippie/hesher DJ who is trying to blow your mind with epic rock jams from the late 60s. Your ears will be ringing from scratchy MC5 records all night long.
An exception to this rule, however, is hip hop DJs. I’m not talking about the DJs all up in da club, rocking the daytime playlist from Wild 94.9. I’m talking about the group of heads that work as a self-regulating body, making sure everybody in their group wears fresh kicks and plays only certifiable quality hip hop. Every time I get to thinking that nothing good is going on hip hop-wise, all I need to do is check out the dudes from Beat Sauce on KUSF or Fat Beats on EVR or anybody from the Urban Umpires crew. When I can’t find anything that rates a second listen, these guys will have dug up hours of hot new beats and rhymes. I’ll be standing next to the DJ booth with a pen and paper going, “Who’s this? What’s this one called? Where are these guys from?”
At least now I can return the favor. Attention all hip hop junkies: you need to get on Black Spade right now. Hailing from St. Louis, the producer/MC/clothing designer (?!) makes music that demonstrates a refined technique and listening habits that go well beyond the standard rap portfolio. Lyrically Black Spade is somewhere between Common and Pharoah Monch. Musically he’s all over the map. The beats hit hard, but they’re topped with little bits of sonic weirdness that make you stop and listen. You might not get it at first, but any DJ worth his salt will seek this out on his next trip to the record shop.
MP3 ‘The Half That’s Never Been Told’
I’m a mixtape junkie. I’ve got a problem, I acknowledge it, but I don’t see myself quitting any time soon. Talk to me about music for a minute or more, and before you know it I’ll be forcing a CD-R on you, chock full of esoteric songs that perfectly match your taste in music - or at least what I imagine your tastes to be. I’ll be all, “You know how we were talking the other day about the Black Keys? You said you kind of liked that one song with the guitars. Well, I made a mix for you. It’s all songs that feature heavily distorted blues guitar riffs played with a slightly tongue-in-cheek garage rock sensibility. Let me know what you think.”
It’s hard to say whether this behavior is more dorky or annoying. Probably both. Like I said, I have a problem.
One of the things I really like to do is make mixtapes for hyper specific occasions. Anybody can make a compilation of 80s dance hits. In fact, that theme is so far-reaching that they sell those compilations on late night TV. I like to aim a little closer to the bull’s eye. Recent projects for me have included such mixes as Drinking All Night In A Cheap Motel Room Outside Of Reno, Tropical Disease: Songs For The Central American Jungle and The Eagle Has Landed - which refers to an inside joke between my friends and I that I won’t elaborate on, for fear of legal repercussions.
One of the mixtape themes I struggle with though is BBQ music. There are just so many different ways you can go with that. I live in Oakland, and if we’re grilling in the park it’s pretty much got to be West Coast hip hop. I’m not trying to get shot for encouraging the ballers down at Mosswood Courts to listen to something other than Mac Dre. Here in San Francisco, most bar-b-quers (SP?) like to keep it old school - either soul, punk or rap, depending on whose backyard you’re in. Back in New York, rooftop BBQ decorum dictates that you try to please everybody, so you don’t really make a mix as much as you just load up your iPod and hit ’shuffle.’ Either that or you get an indie rock band from Brooklyn to drag their shit up the stairs and play a set over by the water tower.
In general BBQ music is a pretty amorphous category. You can go with something gritty and urban, or you can just as easily go with something twangy and rustic. Classic rock works too, particularly after every one’s been there long enough to drink a few beers. It’s with this in mind that I plan to add Pearlene to my next BBQ playlist. They started out back in Kentucky as an acoustic Delta Blues band, but quickly added sweat and electricity to their sound. What emerges on their latest album For Western Violence and Brief Sensuality is a smoky mix of stoner rock and hipster Americana. Granted, this kind of music would sound good in a lot places, but I’m willing to bet it satisfies my BBQ (mixtape) craving in particular.
MP3 ‘We All Get Off’
MP3 ‘Numbers’
In a lot of ways America is becoming more and more like a third world country. For a nation that is supposed to be a leader in technology, democracy, and free-market efficiency, we still handle certain vital institutions with the bumbling ineptitude of a night manager at Kinko’s. Take, for example, airport security. I know this old trope has been talked to death, but still. After getting to the airport two hours early, after taking off your shoes, your belt, your watch, after chugging any water you happen to have on you and showing your ID to twelve different senior citizens (many of whom look as though they were formerly employed as greeters at Wal-Mart), and after having some fat guy wave a wand over your crotch - do you really feel any safer? Do you really think some apathetic high school drop-out making minimum wage working the X-Ray machine is going to outsmart a terrorist? I mean, come on. The frickin’ CIA can’t even keep up with these guys.
And yet we accept the inanity of this process as par for the course. Like we don’t really expect our government or our country to do better. Corrupt politicians, crumbling infrastructure, failing industry - these are all the stereotypical hallmarks of a third world republic, and they’ve become part of the normal discourse on the United States. WTF?
For the most part it seems like our government just likes chasing its tail. They’ve hypnotized themselves into a sense of accomplishment by repeatedly treating the symptoms of our critical shortcomings instead of solving the problems that cause them. Think, for example, of how many times in recent years you’ve heard about foreign musicians being denied visas to play in this country. And we’re not talking about, like, the Al-Qaeda 12 Man String Band or anything. In most cases it’s just some scruffy indie rockers from Canada or England. This is what happened to Ontario band Young Rival. The last time they tried to cross the border to play a sold out show with Tokyo Police Club at the Bowery Ballroom they were denied entry.
Really? Really? Look at these guys. They wouldn’t squash a grape in a fruit fight. Do they not teach common sense to those government agents guarding the border? Has our country become the kind of place that doesn’t tolerate dreamy guitar rock? What are we supposed to listen to on late night drives through the desert? Who will provide the soundtrack to boozy summer make-out sessions? If Young Rival continues to be denied entry to this country then our nation will definitely suffer in these areas. Is that really the kind of place where we want to raise our children?
Watch out America. Canada is looking better and better each day.
MP3 ‘4:15′(demo)
Sometimes you want a well-rounded homemade meal. You know - with a salad and fresh rolls and everything. Other times you might want a nice, healthy smoothie. If you can afford it, you might even go in for the occasional night out at some fancy French restaurant. Eating right is good for body and mind, and it also aids in proper digestion. Everybody knows this is the right way to live. That’s why mom forced all that broccoli on you as a kid.
But you know what? Every now and then you just need a mothafuckin candy bar. And now is one of those times, my trembling little sucrose junkies. Behold the sugary pop goodness of The Submarines. So good, but don’t listen to too much in one sitting. Your teeth might fall out.
MP3 ‘You, Me & The Bourgeoisie’
One of the things that sucks about living in New York City is grocery shopping. Not only is it expensive, but chances are you don’t have a car, so whatever you can afford to buy has to be lugged in a cab, on the subway or up the street to your apartment. That right there is reason enough to get take-out every night of the week.
Another reason is that shopping for groceries is generally not fun in New York City. The aisles are too small, everybody is on a cell phone, absent-mindedly groping the produce, and the shopping music is loud and annoying. In some stores they just play commercials at rock concert volume, hoping to entice you to buy some processed food treat that you might otherwise have passed up.
The one exception to this rule is St. Mark’s Market in the East Village. That place embodies everything cool you’ve ever heard about New York. How is it cool, you ask? Let me count the ways. First, it’s open 24 hours. If you think that may seem like a given for any store in Manhattan, try going to the Met after 9pm. Second, even though it’s pretty small, you can get almost anything there. They have a fresh sushi bar, a sandwich counter, and all kinds of weird candy and drinks imported from Asia.
But the best thing about this market is the music. According to the guy at check-out, they all take turns bumping their iPods over the house system. On past visits I’ve heard everything from Talking Heads and Public Enemy to John Coltrane and Tuvan throat singers. It is bad ass. People actually take their headphones off when they come into the store and sometimes you’ll catch hot girls singing to themselves over in the canned goods aisle.
One of the things I like hearing best in the store is a long instrumental jam. I’ll walk in sometimes in the middle of the night during some epic Can track, and I’ll spend the next 15 minutes just looking at the labels of esoteric snack foods while I nod my head. Before I know it, I’m playing a drum solo on the cans of dried wasabi peas.
It is because of this that I’m giving St. Mark’s Market a shout out. I don’t know if anybody from the store ever checks out this site, but if they do, I’ve got a recommendation for them. Listen up employees: you should play some music from the Philadelphia band Public Record. They play a unique blend of music that, in their words, ranges “from early-disco to shoegaze; Afro-beat to Scottish Postcard pop; and northern soul to Factory Records funk.” Their compelling instrumental jams bounce from trance-like summertime rhythms to sweaty, third world funk with an easy grace.
It’s the perfect soundtrack for ordering a hot reuben or squeezing some melons with that girl you just met in aisle two.
MP3 ‘Comfortability’
We know how much you love the small, tightly cropped band photos that appear on this site. Heck, we like them too. It makes it much easier to stand back and play that “I am squashing your head” game from Kids In The Hall. But maybe you’re wondering what these bands really look like. Or maybe you just want to check if they’re wearing pants. Whatever your motive, you’re in luck. We now have a Flickr account where you can see more of bands you’ve never heard of. Chiggedy check it out:
http://flickr.com/photos
I’m surprised it took this long. We’ve been running this blog/music discovery site for a while now, and yet it was only recently that someone brought a glaring omission to our attention: We have never given a geography quiz. Well shit. My bad. Let me get right to that.
This quiz will be formatted with the answers following immediately after the questions, so be sure to cover up the bottom of your computer screen. No reading ahead. If caught, cheaters will have to stand naked in front of the class and compose a freestyle rap about the porno baby from ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm.’ OK then. Ready? You may begin.
Q: What country has more lakes than all of the rest of the world combined?
A: Canada.
Q: Where are the Glorioso Islands located?
A: Off the coast of South Africa, near Madagascar.
Q: 11 of the 20 largest cities in Russia, including Moscow, are situated on what river?
A: The Volga River.
Q: What is the capital of Papua New Guniea?
A: Port Moresby
Bonus Question:
Give the names of three totally obscure places in the world (country, state, or city) and name their most important export or domestic product.
Sample Answer:
1. Burkina Faso, a landlocked nation in West Africa. It is the 27th poorest nation in the world, with agriculture representing 32% of its gross domestic product and occupying 80% of the working population.
2. Tenerife, a Spanish island in the Atlantic Ocean. Tenerife is the largest of the Canary Islands. Tourism is the most prominent industry in the Canaries, and it is one of the major tourist destinations in the World.
3. Faroe Islands, a group of islands located between the Norwegian Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean. Its nearest neighbors are Iceland, Norway, and Scotland. Their most important export is an indie rock group called Boys In A Band.
Boys In A Band describe their sound as Dylan on methamphetamines, but I think they’re just being cheeky. There are definitely some Dylan-esque touches in there, but mostly their sound leans more toward a larger genre trend - young bands from Northern Europe who were raised on American rock n roll. It’s hard to say exactly what cultural filters are at play here, but a lot of these bands are getting the mix just right. Artists like The Flaming Sideburns, The Hives, and now Boys In A Band, seem to have taken some of the best parts of the rock n roll tradition, cooked them in some kind of Nordic incubator, and then unleashed them on the rest of the world. Who knew?
Well, apparently, Boys In A Band knew. With their jangling, celebratory sound they are carving a place for themselves in what is quickly becoming a new tradition of frozen rock music. In doing so they have put the Faroe Islands on the map. Extra credit to anybody else who can find the Faroe Islands on a map.
I came to music at a very early age. I got my first Michael Jackson album when I was 5 years old, and my first guitar a few years later. Between elementary school and highschool graduation I played, at one time or another, clarinet, trumpet, saxophone, drums, and piano. Which is not to say I’m some sort of prodigy. On the contrary, I lacked the attention span necessary to really master any of those instruments. I mostly just wanted to play drums in a rock band. Clarinet, trumpet, and saxophone were forced on me by the crotchety, old, and disgruntled music teachers from the Oakland Public School District (translation: no way were they about to set a fourth-grader loose behind a drumset.)
Sometime around the sixth grade, my friends and I started having “jams” at my house after school. We had recently found a working tape recorder in the back of the garage, and my friend Nate had been given an electric guitar with five working strings. I had a pair of drumsticks and some heavy-duty cardboard boxes that made a drum-like sound. A couple of my friends thought they could sing. As the weeks wore on, we moved from open-ended noise jams to fully composed songs, complete with lyrics about fire, cars, and the girls in our class who had started to go through puberty. Naturally we decided that our incipient musical genius needed to be committed to tape.
After my friends went home, I would spend hours listening to those tapes on my boombox. I was totally impressed that we had had managed to make a noise which kind of sounded like music which sounded a little bit like a song which, I thought, meant we were destined for rock stardom. I was all, “Screw you middle school! We’re going on tour!” I played the tapes for anybody who would listen (read: my little sister and our babysitter). The babysitter was kind enough not say anything disparaging. Of course, she was getting paid. My sister, on the other hand, was brutally honest. “That sounds like Nate playing a broken guitar, you hitting some cardboard boxes, and a lot of screaming about explosions. Wait, did somebody just say ‘boobies?’ I’m telling Mom!”
I was reminded of those tapes when I first heard Significant Figures. Apparently the band was born of a similar experience - a Realistic two-track recorder found in a basement somewhere in New Jersey. According to the band’s promo material “its motors could not maintain a consistent speed throughout the length of any of the early epic rock anthems” and the first recordings from the group were scrapped. Since that time, the boys in the band have upgraded their technology and learned how to use it. Despite the fact that the band’s various members are spread across the eastern seaboard, they still manage to record at a prolific rate. With the help of a couple laptops, some vintage microphones, and the power of the internet, Significant Figures have built a large catalogue of lo-fi pop songs.
Imagine The Pixies and Paul Simon recording two minute pop songs in a basement apartment in a rainy little town outside of a big city. Imagine that they woodshed for a couple days, individually writing a bunch of new songs. Then they get together on Thursday night and record all of them. Then they go watch a movie, hang out with their girlfriends, and come back the next week and do it again. If you can actually imagine what that sounds like, then you’ve got a very impressive imagination. Sadly, that’s probably not at all how it happens. But that’s what I hear. Of course, I used to play the cardboard box in an after school jam band. Hey, do you wanna hear the tape?
MP3 ‘Ray Borg Blues’