Lindsey Buckingham @ Town Hall 9/27/2011

Shut Us Down / Go Insane / Trouble / Never Going Back Again / Big Love / Under the Skin / All My Sorrows / In Our Own Time / Illumination / Second Hand News / Tusk / Stars Are Crazy / End of Time / That’s the Way Love Goes / I’m So Afraid / Go Your Own Way // Turn It On / Treason / Seeds We Sow

Lindsey Buckingham “In Our Own Time”

You can read my full review of this show over at Rolling Stone. Here are a few additional notes:

1) There is nothing at all ironic about my love of Lindsey Buckingham’s music, but I found that the overwhelming earnestness of the performance and the Boomers in the audience made me enjoy the show in a much more bemused way that I would have expected. It’s cute to watch awkward middle aged white folks dancing to songs from Rumours! I mean that sincerely.

2) You have never seen a band look more like a bunch of “cool” uncles than Lindsey Buckingham and his trio of sidemen.

3) At one point, Buckingham said that his drummer Walfredo Reyes Jr was one of his two favorite drummers, implying that the other is Mick Fleetwood. I am wondering if Buckingham considers “making the most ridiculous faces possible at all times” is a key part of being a great drummer. Because oh man…

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I wrote an entire week of Fluxblog entries about Lindsey Buckingham’s body of work earlier this year. Here are links to all of those posts in case you missed it:

• “The Ledge” / “It Was I”

• “Monday Morning” / “Hold Me”

• “What Makes You Think You’re the One?” / “Walk a Thin Line”

• “I Want You” / “Crying in the Night”

• “Second Hand News” / “Time Precious Time”

Wilco “Dawned On Me”

Jeff Tweedy has a lot of strengths as a songwriter, but I’m very partial to his gift for writing sweet love songs within the context of a long term relationship. It’s easy to find a lot of good songs about new love or love that is broken and ending, but Tweedy’s tunes about rediscovering or reaffirming affection after years of ups and downs and prosaic routines is pretty inspiring. I’m not too crazy about The Whole Love at the moment – it’s certainly not a bad record, but most of it doesn’t hold my interest – “Dawned On Me” hits my sweet spot basically by cross-breeding the tone of their classic “I’m Always In Love” with that one hit by Supergrass.

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Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks @ Webster Hall 9/25/2011

Baby C’mon / Spazz / Brain Gallop / Long Hard Book / Tigers / Pennywhistle Thunder / Forever 28 / Independence Street / Polvo / Share the Red / Animal Midnight / Tune Grief / Gorgeous Georgie / Senator / Asking Price / Stick Figures in Love // Planetary Motion / No One Is (As I Are Be) / You Love Gets Me High / 1% of One

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks “Brain Gallop”

1. Following the Pavement reunion tour, Malkmus has returned to the left side of the stage after years of performing in the center with the Jicks. I appreciate this: It suits his personality and emphasizes that despite the “Stephen Malkmus and” commercial consideration, the Jicks are a real band, and one that has existed for a decade now.

2. This was my first exposure to Jake Morris, the Jicks’ new drummer. He’s certainly not in the same class as his predecessors John Moen and Janet Weiss – he simply lacks the former’s raw skill or the latter’s heavy-hitting power – but he’s good with accents and loose grooves. He’s sort of like a tighter version of Steve West, and that brings the sound a bit closer to Pavement. “Brain Gallop,” for example, is the most traditionally Jicks-y song on Mirror Traffic with Weiss on drums, but this performance was much more Brighten the Corners in tone.

3. The new songs are terrific live. As much as I love Real Emotional Trash, some of those songs could drag on a bit in concert. In contrast, this material is very brisk and snappy, with more rocking stuff like “Tune Grief,” “Senator,” “Forever 28,” “Spazz” and “Stick Figures in Love” coming off particularly well. The pacing of the setlist was sorta weird though, with a good chunk of time in the middle given to new material and mid-tempo tunes. If you’re going to have a potentially dull spot, that’s not the worst place to put it, but you could tell how relieved the audience was to hear a fast song when “Tune Grief” came around.

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R.E.M. “Discoverer”

The final R.E.M. album begins and ends with “Discoverer,” an ecstatic song about facing new challenges and adventures with bravery and enthusiasm. It flashes back to the early days of the band and Michael Stipe’s first visit to New York City, recalling the first rush of excitement at the sheer number of opportunities and possibilities offered by the city and the world in general. It all happened for him, too. Stipe and R.E.M. had a phenomenal, unparalleled career and have lived remarkable lives. They did it all on their own terms, with a combination of raw talent, ambition and idealism. “Discoverer,” like a lot of the best R.E.M. songs, is an expression of incredible optimism. This is probably the aspect of the band’s body of work that resonates with me most deeply. Stipe genuinely believes that the future offers us the chance to live better lives. He believes that positive change can happen if we work for it. And he’s right. He’s so right. And that extends to this song, and the end of this band. When this song is reprised at the end of Collapse Into Now, it sounds like a moment of pure, heroic triumph. It’s a beautiful and appropriate finale for their career – moving forwards and embracing new opportunities while radiating genuine pride over what has already been accomplished.

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Tune-Yards @ Le Poisson Rouge 9/20/2011

Do You Wanna Live? / Gangsta / You Yes You / Es-So / Riotriot / Bizness / Powa / Doorstep / Not Dead Yet / My Country // Hatari / Killa

Tune-Yards hasn’t been in heavy rotation for me in the past couple months; it was a thrill to see these songs performed again and be reminded not only of their incredible quality, but of my own connection to the music and lyrics. And the performer! The audience is more crazy about Merrill every time I see her perform — the cult is growing and getting more intense. She really earns this incredible adulation, and the more love the crowd gives her, the more she gives back. It’s so nice to go to a show and see the audience and the artist be so totally into it. Everyone was having so much fun.

Tune-Yards “Powa”

I don’t know much about Merrill Garbus’ life, but I feel like I know a lot about her voice, which might be a separate thing. Garbus sings like a person who, at some point in the not-too-distant past, stopped caring about holding herself back. “Powa” starts off sorta gentle and demure, but as it progresses, there’s a clear physicality to her vocals — a startling, defiant swagger. Unlike a lot of “swagger” you hear in modern pop music, it’s not a put-on or thinly veiled insecurity. It doesn’t sound like control or a desire to be controlling either. It’s more about self-possession, and making a clear decision to be exactly who you are and go for what you want, and take what you deserve after years of feeling unworthy. “Powa” is a song about sex, and it feels triumphant and glorious, like a long-earned reward. There’s still conflict and angst, but it all disappears in moments of pure pleasure, as when Garbus’ voice shoots up into into high notes, yanking us up with her into her giddy stratosphere. You feel her pleasure along with her, but you know that it’s an abstraction. If you really want it, you’ve got to get it for yourself. You’ve got to be more like Merrill.

I’ve lived with “Powa” for a while now, and I’m pretty confident in saying that it ranks among my favorite songs of all time. I feel like I could gush endlessly about it — in addition to what I wrote over a year ago, I know I could go on and on about every detail in the structure, performance and production of this piece. But the thing that really blows me away is this: “Powa” is a song about love and sex that factors in insecurity about one’s body. When you think about how common it is for people to feel awkward about their bodies — if not outright disgusted by them — it is shocking to realize how rarely this comes up in songs about love and sex. Sex tends to be idealized and abstracted in music, in a way it’s not that different from Hollywood or pornography. “Powa” is astonishing not only because it presents the singer as a fully-formed person with body image issues and stress and real world problems, but because it expresses genuine love and gratitude for someone with whom she has true intimacy. Aside from Carole King’s wonderful “(You Make Me Feel Like A) Natural Woman,” I can’t think of many songs on this level of quality that articulate this sort of feeling.

(Originally posted 1/4/2010 and 4/15/2011.)

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Gauntlet Hair “My Christ”

It seems like we’re only starting to come out of a phase of indie music dominated by excessive use of reverb, so it’s actually surprising to hear a band play around with those tricks and come up with something that sounds fresh. “My Christ,” one of the best and most tuneful tracks from Gauntlet Hair’s debut album, essentially sounds like a late 80s sort of INXS/Tears for Fears type song that has been pushed to a severe extreme without losing its shape and basic appeal. The distortions here don’t blur the composition – it’s rather sharp and dynamic – but they do sharpen up the treble and exaggerate the impact of the drumming. I get the feeling that a lot of people are going to sleep on this record, which is unfortunate: These guys are figuring out some interesting new angles on late 80s arena rock.

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Craig Wedren “I Know”

There is a lot to recommend to Craig Wedren’s voice, but I’ve always been fond of the way he can affect this sorta sexy-brat tone. A little bitchy, a little flirty, a little silly. “I Know,” a cut from his new solo record, is a showcase for this quirk as he admits that “it’s fun to treat you badly” over this heavy, stomping groove that reminds me a bit of Basement Jaxx’s “Cish Cash.” He sells the message just right – his voice conveys a bit of regret and shame for his cruelty, but also a lot of genuine glee in being a total dick.

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Slow Club “You, Earth or Ash”

The first few times I listened to this song it didn’t register beyond the lovely harmony hook in the chorus, but as I’ve become more acquainted, it’s revealed itself to be one of the most moving, gorgeous and well-constructed pop songs that I’ve encountered this year. Every sound and texture in this stark, minimal arrangement is careful and thoughtfully deployed, but it’s not stuffy or overworked. It’s organic and loose, with all the sounds framing Rebecca Taylor’s vocal performance, which is so nuanced in its phrasing that tiny inflections convey volumes of emotional subtext. The text is gutting enough as it is – she’s singing about knowing that her close connection to someone is going to end one way or another – but the mature musical decisions made at every moment in this piece result in something incredibly moving.

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Kathryn Calder “Who Are You?”

I feel like every time I write about Kathryn Calder, I am compelled to describe her voice as “princessy.” But that’s how it sounds to me – not in the Taylor Swift sense, but in a regal, demure yet self-possessed sort of way. I was disappointed by Calder’s first solo record from last year, but this number from her second album is much more of what I’d like to hear from her – crisp, clear and catchy like music she plays in the New Pornographers, but in a style that wouldn’t quite fit in with that band’s style. In this case, it’s synth-pop. Calder’s voice slips perfectly into that milieu, amping up her gentle humanity on the verses, and an ethereal School of Seven Bells quality on the chorus.

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Los Campesinos! “By Your Hand”

It’s funny how the sound of five years ago always seems to feel a bit uncomfortable. Los Campesinos! are an extremely mid-00s band, essentially the U.K. answer to hyper-articulate, sharp-tongued emo-pop bands like Fall Out Boy and Say Anything. This song, the first single from their upcoming fourth album, weds that style to the overblown everyone-singing-at-once style that’s just as much Alphabeat as it is the Arcade Fire or Bright Eyes. It’s all basically the same, though: Overwhelming romance filtered through defensive cynicism. That feeling may well be out of place in the current cultural climate, but I don’t think that will stop a lot of people from caring about this sort of thing. It’s just that it won’t be cool again for some time. I get the sense that a lot of people are a little embarrassed by these sort of huge, heart-on-sleeve tunes and have, in large part, moved on to artists who are more cerebral, aggressive or stoned into total abstraction. I hope bands like this stick to their guns instead of folding and coming back together when it’s their time to get on the reunion circuit.

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St. Vincent “Dilettante”

St. Vincent’s Annie Clark is very fixated on how we create a public facade. While Actor was focused on a struggle to hide inner turmoil from the outside world, Strange Mercy is more concerned with relationships and how the persona and image we project informs how we connect – or do not connect – with other people. A lot of the characters on the record possess some degree of confidence or charm, or at least sell people on the idea that they do. The anxiety in the music mainly comes out of a feeling that you’re betraying yourself on some level for the sake of pragmatism and social advantage.

The characters in “Dilettante” are slippery and emotionally distant; neither seems to be sure of where they stand with the other. There’s a lot of implied sexual tension, but even more overt contempt. Clark’s protagonist is undermining and dismissive, but in a sexy, cavalier sort of way. Most other St. Vincent songs convey some sense of angst and dread, but the arrangement of this number has a glamorous swagger to it, it seems to strut around imperiously with excellent posture. It’s vaguely funky in its sway, her voice is lightly flirtatious even when uttering lines like “I have no patience for an estrangement.” There’s a touch of ugliness and discomfort along the way, but for the most part this is an incredibly well-drawn portrait of someone whose callousness has made them very attractive.

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Wild Flag “Something Came Over Me”

Wild Flag is more surprising and interesting for me as a Mary Timony fan than as a Sleater-Kinney fan. Carrie Brownstein is very much in her element and her obvious thrill in playing energetic, fun rock music is one of the top selling points for the band in general. Even still, when she sings I can’t help but hear the absence of Corin Tucker, who complemented Carrie’s rock spirit with raw, visceral emotion. Timony’s a very different foil, but even when she’s singing lead on songs that boast her distinctive singsong and curling guitar melodies, I hear Brownstein’s influence on her style and phrasing. It’s not a bad thing, though – after a decade or so of solo records full of good ideas that didn’t always translate into great music, it’s exciting to hear Timony sound so focused and bold. She’s never sounded so extroverted! “Something’s Come Over Me” is the best of her lead vocal tracks – there’s a flirty quality to it, as though she’s revisited the sexuality of her early Helium material but replaced her early-20s coyness with a forthright, mature femininity.

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The Weeknd “Life of the Party”

Rap and R&B songs weren’t always about ostentatious wealth and the hedonistic yet rigid mating rituals of “the club,” but after more than a decade of these ideas being the center of popular music, it’s easy to feel like it was ever thus. The Weeknd belongs to this tradition, but with two caveats: He writes about entering this world as an ambivalent outsider, and he presents even the elements he enjoys as sorta grotesque and soul-deadening. Everything we’re used to hearing as glamorous and sexy gets turned into a horror show. His two albums from this year are essentially the interior monologue of a guy who is trying to satisfy his desires and make use of his social capital while desperately trying to cling to his humanity, and the struggle can get pretty harrowing. This seems to be a thread in a lot of R&B and rap right now – you hear it in Kanye West, though he’s pretty far gone down his crazy rabbit hole, and you definitely hear it in Drake, though he’s so self-absorbed that he rarely includes the well-observed details of other characters and social dynamics that make The Weeknd’s music so rich and compelling.

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The-Dream featuring Big Sean “Ghetto”

Most of The-Dream’s 1977 – technically it’s a mixtape, but it’s as deliberately conceived and constructed as a proper album – finds the singer engaging in some rather bitter rants against his ex-wife. Most of the songs are like the musical equivalent of the crazy, gut-spilling emails you might find yourself writing in the middle of the night in a fit of intense emotion but should never ever ever ever actually send. The-Dream is consistently self-aggrandizing, but apparently has no concern for how he may be interpreted – one way or another, he’s clearly brave enough to be willing to come off like a petty, horrible person on record, because oh boy does he ever. Some of the tracks are a bit too toxic for my liking, but I am very fond of “Ghetto,” a track that grinds through a few different modes as the singer grapples with complicated, wildly conflicting emotions as he gets used to the idea of not having sex with his ex anymore. As on previous The-Dream songs, his excessive investment in his sexual prowess is fascinating – the bravado is so transparent, the raw desperation to assert his masculinity and eagerness to please is impossible to miss.

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Lindsey Buckingham “In Our Own Time”

The character of Lindsey Buckingham’s music has changed a lot as he’s aged. His best-known work from the Seventies and Eighties was always a bit high-strung and angst-ridden; he pretty much specialized in writing bitter break-up songs. In recent years, though, that’s all gone away in favor of a more serene tone. The angst is still there, but it’s focused on issues of mortality and buried beneath gorgeous, cascading finger-picked guitar parts. “In Our Own Time,” from this latest record Seeds We Sow, merges this approach with elements of the bonkers studio-rat production style he developed on his first two solo albums in the Eighties. It’s a fascinating mix of sounds and textures, with fluid, graceful parts set in odd contrast with synthetic keyboard and percussion parts. The best thing here is the way Buckingham treats his guitar, seemingly speeding up his parts to the point of making his arpeggios seem abstract and cartoonish.

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I wrote an entire week of Fluxblog entries about Lindsey Buckingham’s body of work earlier this year. Here are links to all of those posts in case you missed it:

• “The Ledge” / “It Was I”

• “Monday Morning” / “Hold Me”

• “What Makes You Think You’re the One?” / “Walk a Thin Line”

• “I Want You” / “Crying in the Night”

• “Second Hand News” / “Time Precious Time”

Cass McCombs “The Same Thing”

“The Same Thing” sets up a lot of equivalences, with the logic that many seemingly opposite concepts and feelings are flip sides of the same coin. In the spirit of that, here’s an idea: Though “The Same Thing” is rooted in rhythm and Sixties psychedelic pop and “County Line” (the excellent single from Cass McCombs’ other 2011 album) is a delicate, nearly weightless 70s AM radio ballad, they feel remarkably similar. Both songs sprawl out, suggesting slow movement through a a vast, humbling space. They’re both “road” songs, pieces of music that fill out the emotional space of the time you spend in transit, en route to some bigger experience.

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The Flaming Lips “The Gash” (Live in 2011)

Until I heard this live recording, I never noticed how much the keyboard part sounded like something John Lennon might have written – echoes of “Instant Karma” and “I Am the Walrus,” for sure. The studio recording on The Soft Bulletin has an effective maximalist sound – drums that seem physically enormous, vocals multi-tracked into warbling choirs – but this rendition is pared down to the essential elements. To the band’s credit, it still sounds rather epic. I think Wayne Coyne’s vocals are more effective here, allowing his words to ring out with an even greater empathy as he attempts to sell a broken, defeated person on the concept of hope and faith. “The Gash” is a pep talk song that genuinely understands what it means to feel frustrated and despondent, but it demands the listener to rethink their reasons for wanting to drop out of life. The song’s big moment is a rhetorical question: “Will the fight for our sanity be the fight of our lives now that we’ve lost all the reasons that we thought that we had?” It’s a fight, it’s always a fight. You gotta fight to win.

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Big Troubles “Misery”

It’s so irrational, but I feel as though I should in some way apologizing for liking this so much, as if I should distrust myself a bit for maybe succumbing to some cheap Pavlovian trigger where I just hear alt-rock moves from the mid-90s and go “yes, thanks!” But you know what? In this case, yes, thanks. Every little bit of this song could easily be something I half-remembered from CMJ samplers or 120 Minutes, but it’s all put together with great grace. There’s a great emotional tension in this too – a desire for hope and pleasure that’s so close to breaking through, but it’s not fully there.

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Lil Wayne “Nightmares of the Bottom”

I find Lil Wayne most entertaining when he’s spilling random rhymes over a booming beat, but this introspective, gentle track suits him well. He’s doing some soul-searching here, but I don’t think he finds much – he doesn’t dig too deep into his fears of losing what he has, and a lot of the lines are fairly boilerplate. There’s more in the sound of his voice – a little resigned, a little bemused. He sounds friendly, like he’s genuinely confiding with the listener. Even still, the twinkling piano figure carries a lot of the emotional weight, as if he’s leaning on mood to project a feeling where his words fail him. Which is fair enough, because that’s why we have music in the first place.

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Sandro Perri “Changes”

The title and lyrics to this piece are very appropriate – the composition is constantly mutating and shifting, with new textures and tones coming with every turn. The first time I heard this, I was sucked in right away and found myself hanging on every note as the song unfolded, genuinely surprised by its progress. The wonderful thing about “Changes” is that the changes are never jarring, but feel entire organic and logical from moment to moment. It’s like a macro view of your life – sometimes it doesn’t seem like much is going on, but with a bit of perspective it can look like a long, rambling non-narrative with all sorts of strange detours and brief phases that add up something you never fully grasp.

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The Pharcyde “Otha Fish”

SlimKid3’s performance on “Otha Fish” is one of the best I’ve ever heard on a hip-hop record; virtuoso in its technique, original in its style, and overflowing with raw emotion and bitter wit. He delivers all three verses with a cadence that slips gracefully between rapping and singing, the intricate lines twisting and twirling around a fluid beat, but never winding itself too tight. The third verse is perfection, a stream of brilliant lines – “Now, if there ain’t no mountain high enough, why ain’t you climbin up?,” “I slipped and I tripped into a shoe that didn’t fit” – that tumble out with increasing urgency. There’s something particularly compelling about the way he utters the phrase “Elizabeth, this is it,” as though it marks the song’s precise breaking point. Through the whole track, he’s right on the edge of falling out of love, but with that line, the feelings are turned off like a light switch.

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