Stoked by the Fire

Ever since the '60s faded into disco and grunge went out with a bang one night in '94, rock 'n' roll has had a hard time finding its soul. Once dangerous, the musicians we idolize from the past, the guitar smashers and unapologetic media hounds, have transformed themselves into soccer mom fantasies and acoustic guitar-toting babysitters. Yet for those of us who refuse to believe that the ghosts of history are dead need only look toward the brother and sister group emerging from the New York music scene for a ray of sunshine breaking through the canopy of pop. With the debut of their second album Blueberry Boat, the quartet known as The Fiery Furnaces have brought the music community one part The Who, one part indie rock and one part full-tilt marathon sprint. The group, composed of brother and sister Matthew (guitarist, vocals and keyboard) and Eleanor (vocals, keyboard) Friedberger, Toshi Yano (bass, keyboard) and Andy Knowles (drums), has left behind the fad of the low-fidelity rock album (embodied by their first record Gallowsbird's Bark) for a project that attempts to channel The Who's explorations into the rock opera that preceded the infamous Tommy. With the closest comparison tied to Townshend and company's A Quick One While He's Away in the listener's mind, one can begin to attack the Furnaces's Blueberry Boat with a sense of direction -- somewhat. Leaning against the wall of the green room of Second Story before their Sept. 15 show while restringing his guitar, the raven-haired and inky-eyed Matthew explains that while The Who paraded in camp with the idea of strung-together pop songs forming an "opera," Blueberry Boat is unable to get access to the pop world that The Who's production was able to accomplish. "(Blueberry Boat)'s a much less interesting thing," Matthew said, the "cool" of the rock star getting the better of him as he keeps his modesty cloaked in hyper-criticism. "It only functions as an indie rock record, even though for us it has a proto-music aspect that '60s rock didn't have." And listening to the album he's right. Not about the work being less interesting, but about how the inspired departs from its inspiration. There are moments on the album where instruments transform into waves breaking on a beach, creating a living environment surrounding their seemingly Mad-libbed script. "The music isn't supposed to function like, 'Man, that's cool,'" Matthew said. "There's music in there that's supposed to stupidly and crudely dramatize the narrative." However, The Fiery Furnaces don't make pretentious, post-mod art tunes. Where the explanations behind the album leave the reader wondering whether or not to bring Blueberry Boat along for an afternoon drive, the experience of the Furnaces live proves that where intellect and musical purity meet is an explosion of unceasing, orchestrated rock mayhem. YESTERYEAR
A family of musicians, Matthew and Eleanor grew up in Chicago, where their grandmother Olga Sarantos is choir director at the Assumption Orthodox Church. Matthew, a former upright bass player, was a student at the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign. However, the university proper isn't where the intellectual brunt of their music sprouts, as Matthew never truly graduated. At Second Story, the duo teases each other about the semantic differences between "dropping out" and "failing." Matthew explains his reason for "missing" classes was his obsession with the library where he worked. "The library of the University of Illinois in Champaign is one of the most beautiful places in the world," he said, adding the political addendum that Bloomington's facilities "aren't lacking in their own glories." Eleanor took a different educational route. Less rooted than her brother, she left for the University of Texas at Austin and later jumped the puddle to live in London for a year where the siblings enjoy dual citizenship with their English father. The enigmatic Eleanor was mostly quiet backstage as Matthew, moving into "big brother" mode, seemed to field the questions surrounding her identity. Though contrary to what her past might suggest, she did remark, "I'm not much of a traveler." Nevertheless, it was Eleanor who first made the move to New York where she met the bassist Toshi. "How did you meet?" Andy, the shaggy-haired, Englishman drummer asked with a playfully-plastic smile as if reading off of a set of cue cards. "We met at a video store," Eleanor recalled. "I was the second member, it was brand new." "And now he can never go back," Andy joked again. "It's a shame," Toshi said in true deadpan. "It was a good job." Andy, who for his madman performances during the band's live sets deserves his own sitcom, is a Manchester native who hopped on board with the Furnaces six months ago after working with Franz Ferdinand. THE LIVE SHOW
All of the footnotes to their album and family ties come together for one true musical experience: their live performance. Once they begin, they do not stop -- not to introduce songs, tell stories or even take drinks. What seems disjointed on an album becomes one giant musical moment live on stage. They tear apart their songs, beginning in one place, seamlessly transitioning into the next, returning again to the former and cycling around their repertoire for nearly two straight hours. Eleanor shakes out the poetic scramble of their "libretto," capturing the crowd with the wilted cry, "the pain in Spain falls mainly on me." Matthew and Toshi take turns rotating their instruments as Andy becomes alive behind the drums. His excitement is so intense that in the few moments when he's not crashing wood to cymbals, he shadow drums what one might hear if he were permitted to let loose, the swinging sticks conducting the chaos. Asking questions of the band's accessibility, one only has to look around after the set is over. A group of IU creative writing graduate students, none of whom had listened to Blueberry Boat in any extensive setting, return to their candlelit table after the musical carpet-bombing. "Their lyrical endurance is awesome," Sara Jane Stoner said. "They are incredible musicians." Even the critics in the bunch confess there was fun. "The keyboards were really irritating. It's like, PJ Harvey has done it already," Will Boast said, "but I'll admit it was entertaining." The bottom line to the controversy seems best expressed by the creators. Matthew takes issue with the idea that someone would lump the band's work into the realm of pretension. "We understand it's not The Who," he said. "We're not trying to pull a fast one. It's just a certain type of rock record. We understand if someone doesn't like it. It's just done in a particular style." Which, in the end, is all one can hope for when working in a particular genre. Not everyone likes kung-fu movies, and perhaps not everyone likes the indie rock opera, but what is undeniable is that the Fiery Furnaces are not out to confuse the world with their record. They're out to make music, find what's left of rock 'n' roll and nurse it back to health. Their live performance is true testament to that spirit of the momentous event that once was the rock concert - before Verizon and Dunkin' Donuts centers. The Fiery Furnaces is just a certain type of rock band. The type that we've been waiting for. The type that we need.