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(09/19/02 4:00am)
I spent my freshman year in my room. Eating greasy sandwiches from the downstairs cafeteria, getting fat and smoking cigarettes. When my roommate was around, I stared at him suspiciously as if the whip were about to come down. I had virtually no contact with the outside world, and it stayed that way, right through classes, through the weekends and until I finally withered away in paranoia and stomach cramps.\nI can't really remember anything specifically about this period of my life, besides watching lots of television and yelling at my roommate when he failed to bring me home dinner. Suffice it to say, my first stint at Indiana University was a short one. The holes in my stomach have since healed, and I get out of the house every once in a while now to buy groceries and records.\nIn my circle of friends, the hermit life is seen as a very chivalrous thing, the ultimate sacrifice to artifice. Virtually everyone I know who fathoms himself creative believes he is disturbed or screwed in some way and must engage in some form of slow suicide, either by drug ingestion or by pure, antisocial antics.\nA fellow I know lives in a high rise in Chicago. He dropped out of art school after two years, feeling that he was misunderstood and couldn't bear the wrath of these trained artists. These days he spends his days working in a bagel joint and sitting in his flat reading Dostoevsky at night. Having a conversation with the guy now is like talking to Marlon Brando's character from "Last Tango In Paris." \nLately his e-mails have taken on a Charles Manson quality. He talks about women a lot. He believes he has a chance with the girls who pass him on the street each day because they don't seem horrified by the sight of him. Once he said he had a old girlfriend up at his place for the night. The next day, after she left, he said he couldn't get her smell out of the place so he was thinking about moving.\nIt is possible he actually believes he is the Underground Man: "I am a sick man … I am a spiteful man. I am an unpleasant man. I think my liver is diseased … My liver is bad, well then -- let it get worse."\nAnother buddy of mine lives out in the woods in a small bungalow. He was once a fine musician and composer. Nowadays, he mostly watches "Cosby" and "Home Improvement" reruns. Once in a while, he'll pick up his guitar and mess around. Usually, though, he ends up playing the theme to the original Zelda.\nHe was never besieged by some enormous disappointment; he just seemed to pack it in. He takes his parents' money up his nose and must weigh around 115 pounds now. The last time I saw him, he told me, "Long ago I had stopped being surprised by anything. Pain took on dull, decaying senses. Once upon a time, I had been so upset and self-loathing that my head was ripped apart with the feeling of 1001 machetes. It may have been the best night of my life. Everything now, I see coming a mile away."\n"Heavy, man," I said. "Maybe you ought to go get yourself some McDonald's or go to a class." He just looked at me like I could not possibly understand his privatized situation. \nThe thing that is important to note about these figures is that they are not getting anything done. In their time and their own way, they once represented to me the achievement that was possible by my peers. They are now getting exponentially deeper inside themselves. Bill Clinton said on Letterman the other night, "Once you're in the hole, why keep digging?" \nI find it hard to think of any sort of creativity that comes out of this lifestyle that can be sustained over more than a short period of time. Time and time again, a good book, album, painting or personality is the direct result of overcoming the diversities of life. The key is movement -- what my friends are doing cannot be determined motion. \nSo stay home if you want to, it makes no difference to me, really. I don't like competition, and I get claustrophobic on campus. I advise you, though, not to give credence to the ideology of the tortured artist. People have been killing themselves for years; it's hackneyed and pretentious now.
(09/05/02 4:00am)
The band that Greil Marcus, the god of rock critics, dubbed the best band in rock and roll is back after a two-year hiatus. Sleater-Kinney has returned with its most experimental album to date. The musicians are no longer sporting the "Ramones read Newsweek" assault on the listener. Instead, One Beat is a showcase for instrumental aptitude.\nThe women try out a few different hats on their new record. The overall sound is a My Bloody Valentine-like trance and drone, and because of that, it may be the first Sleater-Kinney record that can become tiresome. On "Step Aside," a Motown-style horn section backs them, and on the riot-grrrl vamp "Prisstina," "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" composer Stephen Trask adds a dirty Casio keyboard riff.\nS-K sounds like the musicians spent hours perfecting the instrumental tracks to One Beat. Since the band's beginning it's stretched the boundaries of what punk rock can be, but the group seemed to work with a cautious ease here. The first few songs (especially the Sept. 11 cry "Far Away") lets the listener settle in with the subtle, buried melodies. The rest of the record, however, suffers from a laissez-faire approach to the band's old sound.\nDuring the period of 1996 to 1999, when Sleater-Kinney released Call the Doctor, Dig Me Out and The Hot Rock in succession, the band was reminiscent of the Rolling Stones in 1967. The musicians had an arrogant confidence that made it impossible for them to make anything but a fabulous record. In contrast, One Beat seems destined to be caught between that period and the next (if there happens to be one).\nLike rivers, formulas also run dry, and Sleater-Kinney seems deliberately aware of the inevitable. In the annals of rock and roll history, lasting artistic veneration has come in two ways: a drastic change of center (example: Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music) or by simply going away for awhile. Sleater-Kinney by no means needs to leave the scene, but perhaps One Beat just didn't go far enough.
(09/05/02 4:00am)
You set the scene: a local bar/dive, tight-clothed (underage) girls and guys who constantly look wet. Like so many nights before there was a prowl, there was a dense, wafting air of cigarettes and alcohol. This is what we have assimilated ourselves to, but I am always in the mood for assimilation of any kind. \nA group of young men, whose faces were familiar but the memories of names had been fried, stood haunched, snickering at some wisecrack. I figured I wouldn't look completely out of place in this group, so I sidestepped close and tried to look attentive and aloof at the same time, so as not to offend them or the rest of the patrons. \nThere were a couple of young ladies nearby, and I decided to converse with one. Rather, our proximity and my keen aloof look forced conversation upon us. Of course, the inevitable, ice-breaking major question came up quickly. I said mine was music, as it always is with beer and ladies. Sometimes I feel like a child molester at the bars. \nShe said hers was psychology, to which I quickly replied, "So are you like a, uh, crazy?" I was hoping to spur some conversation, but she looked offended. I was speedy to recover and told her how all psychology majors I had met were very much loose cannons or bedwetters. I said I could never understand why someone would trust these people with their secrets and problems and expect them to actually help out. I mean, these psychologists are probably just looking to justify their own strange behaviors by proving to themselves that there are people more screwed up then them.\nWell, that just didn't make anything better: her eyes darted around the room for a life preserver. She found one in a burly fellow about twice my size. She screamed a little in my ear, politely excused herself and went to wrap her arms around him. Now, I couldn't decide if I had been too obscure or too good-looking; either way, I was dissatisfied. Good-looking men can never have a woman really fall in love with them, and I was always very happy I had broken my nose when I was a boy.\nThe next conversation I found myself in was with a bald-headed, goateed Southerner. I had overheard him saying something about Jack Kerouac, and I figured this might lead somewhere. I started up the conversation by saying that lately I'd been plagued by an apocalyptic nightmare. At the end of the dream I had been upset when I found out there were many other survivors. \nUnfortunately, I had just given this guy the soap box he'd been waiting for to deliver his rhetoric. Before I could run away, he started explaining his personal philosophy that the world would be a better place if love ruled and everybody hugged. It was more than even a mild cynic could bear. I started to tell him that I couldn't understand how an obvious existentialist could swing with that notion. I told him that it truly is our prerogative to not care about other people. I'm a real democrat and an isolationist, a realist.\nHe looked equally puzzled and angry. He told me that I had it all wrong and started in on a theme and variation of his previous comments. In a brief and all-too-sparse moment of silence, I looked down at the ground and noticed he was wearing Dale Earnhardt Jr. socks. \nI spent the rest of the night ordering drinks or going to the bathroom -- anything to look busy. I wondered how a crowd of thugs and husband-seekers could invoke such violent feelings within me. I suppose that I'm searching for the same thing that these people are, and, in a way, it is hard to accept. I too want to get laid and have good drinking buddies, but perhaps it's too much to ask for good conversation as well.\nI ended up closing down the bar that night, stayed 'til I got kicked out. At the time I was ranting about sectional composition and the new Wilco album to the bartender. Can you believe that this guy from the Village Voice said he didn't know who would find Jeff Tweedy sexy? That guy's just trying to prove he's not gay -- Tweedy's got boyish charm! \nThat girl was still there, too, and she was not looking at all passive about her attraction to the guy. They headed out the door, and she was at a 45-degree angle. Maybe my old friends were right when they told me to lighten up, but I'm starting to take personal offense to my weekend nights.
(08/29/02 4:00am)
Neko Case, or her producers, seem dead-set on making you realize that she has a fabulous voice. On her new album, Blacklisted, her voice sits amongst voluminous amounts of reverb and echo. All of this is used to make her voice sound as sweltering and sexy as possible, and it works. Her bare midriff portrait on the cover makes a nice visual companion for the disc. \nIt's sort of easy to be cynical about the production techniques; they're cheap, but they are tried and true. Daniel Lanois used it to make Bob Dylan sound like death on 1997's Time Out of Mind, and last year's Kelly Hogan record, Because It Feel Good, is nearly identical to Blacklisted. But really, this modus operandi dates back to Sun Studios, so -- let it go!\nCase hardly has to rely on her voice to carry her albums -- she's a fine songwriter. Her songs are not hook-heavy, but they're more in tradition with Motown or Brill Building songwriting. Her sophisticated melodies and consuming vocals nearly render her lyrics superfluous, but rest assured that they are not vapid.\nOn Blacklisted, Case sounds like the channeled spirit of Dusty Springfield backed by Scotty Moore and Bill Black. Additional room is key, and the musicians have plenty of room to move around. The instrumentation is kept back in the mix, so when someone takes a solo it is as startling as hearing a pay phone ring -- imperial and forlorn. \nCase remains tied to that burdensome genre of alt-country, but despite a banjo or a pedal-steel here and there, there is nothing particularly country about Blacklisted. Genres are for creeps and a ridiculous waste of time anyway. Besides which, the best artists never remain firmly in one camp or the other. At the end of the album is the sound of television and dead air, and take that as a sign of what the truth is, all of this is merely part of the stratosphere.
(08/01/02 4:00am)
Solomon Burke was one of the original soul music pioneers, with early influential singles like "Cry To Me" and "Everybody Needs Somebody To Love." Unfortunately, like many other great voices who have had to rely heavily on producers, patrons and songwriters, he was passed over for younger and more hip models.
(07/25/02 8:23pm)
To hear guitarist Dave Miller say that his band's big mainstream influence is Phish might cause many to roll their eyes. Being a "Phish-influenced" band conjures up connotations of a typical college rock band. But to make that assumption would be selling Tridelphia short.\nThe influence of Phish is not subtle, but neither is it primary to the sound of the band. Where other college jam-bands try mightily to sound as much like Phish as they can, Tridelphia uses the name as a reference point for those who have not heard their focused take on jazz and rock and roll.\nThough it's only been together for about a month-and-a-half, Tridelphia has formed into a tight unit as a band. That the band's sound is built on improvisation makes it all the more impressive.\nTridelphia has its roots in Valparaiso, Ind., where Miller and bassist Ryan Allen went to high school together. \n"As long as I've been playing, Ryan has been playing, and we have been playing together," Miller said.\nNow, as sophomores at IU, they've joined with drummer Evan Kresman to form their band. \n"Since Ryan and Dave have been playing together so long, it made it really easy for me to come into this group," Kresman said.\nKresman, who came to IU from the Philadelphia area, was originally headed for the School of Music. A lack of formal training and an irregular technique kept him from being admitted, but he was able to develop a unique sound and style despite his awkward approach to the drums. \n"Of course I've been listening to rock and roll longer than anything else," Miller said of his influences, "but then I started listening to other things like jazz and Indian classical music. Of course we all love Phish, but we have other goals too. I really like modern jazz like Medeski, Martin and Wood or Charlie Hunter. Really, though, we just have our own sound." \nIn their short amount of time together, the band members have built an impressive catalog of material. Miller is the songwriter of the group but insists he merely writes the melodies and his band is able to fill in around it. \n"Dave has a really unique style of writing," Allen said. "It's very rhythmic. He's also gotten a lot better and continues to improve."\nNinety-five percent of what the band plays at shows is original, Miller said.\nTheir stage shows display a band steadily gaining confidence. They play regular shows Tuesdays at Uncle Fester's, and play regularly at Cafe Django. \nThe band's songs have typically been mixtures of straight rock and a Mahavishnu Orchestra-like take on jazz. Their sound projects an allegiance to rock and roll that Miller's compositions don't seem to be shooting for. But the more developed compositions suggest an important new step for jazz-fusion. \nTheir songs also envelop the long list of influences Miller is able to rattle off. The band's repertoire includes a Santana-like Latin dance song, songs with Western Classical quotes and the irregular, obscure cover of someone like Dave Brubeck or John Schofield. \nTridelphia is at its best while playing an addictive groove music that allows Miller free range to develop his songs' themes. He shows a remarkable knack for creating unique melodies and an addictive dance groove.\n"I hate to see people not reacting to our music, I want them to move and to dance," Miller said. "The worst thing is to see someone sitting still and not knowing what they think."\nTridelphia is interested in building a local following and relying on word of mouth to bring attention to the band. So far, the crowds have been relatively large for weekday shows, and despite few and unpublicized shows, the band is getting attention from its peers. \n"I'm really impressed with the skill level of each musician," said senior Christian Felabom, who has seen the band three times. "They are so tight and consistently interesting."\nTridelphia has come a long way in a short time, and is continuing to develop. The band insists it doesn't wish to remain a trio much longer. The members are interested in experimenting with piano and brass or even a vocalist.\nMiller wants listeners to understand band members consider themselves more than a jam band.\n"I don't just play chords, we don't play ballads, we are trying to be a tight groove and jazz band," Miller said. Built from superior musicianship and an eye on progression rather than on the past, they are advancing at a torrid pace.
(07/25/02 8:23pm)
It's a modern phenomenon in America to want to categorize everything. All things must have their own specific niche, whether it is for marketing purposes or just for our own state of mind. Those things that go against traditions or blend trends beyond easy recognition must be forced to go it alone.\nIn a sense though, this is how American styles have been created in music. Extensive borrowing combine with the novel appeal of exotic sounds to break open new genres. This is precisely what has kept rock 'n' roll, a seemingly dead-end art form, alive for nearly fifty years now. \n"I just think it will take a while for the gospel to spread," says Andrew Broder, aka Fog, of his debut album Fog. "It is a very difficult album to categorize and this makes the big music monster machine twitch and buzz and clunk and it doesn't like albums like that very much. So it it'll be an uphill battle, but that's why I'm here."\nFog is the pet project of Broder. It can be seen as a compilation soundtrack to the places his life has taken him to so far. \nBroder was born and raised in Minnesota, where he remains today. He is one of the many talented artists that have chosen to work out of Minneapolis. He learned to play a myriad of instruments essential to rock bands as a kid (guitar, piano, bass, drums, etc.) and at the age of 15, began dee-jaying and doing graffiti art. He attended the University of Minnesota for two years, and hated every second of it. \nIt's a common middle-class dilemma Broder had found himself in -- a sort of existentialist anxiety about his place in the world and a struggle for self-definition. Like so many before him and so many since, he dropped out of college and got sick. \nBroder says about this period, "I was tired of squelching my ideas to fit the hip-hop mold. Tired of scratching atop the din of plinking martini glasses at trendy bars. Sick, frail and direction-less. That is when everything changed."\nIn 1998, he started recording the songs that would eventually make up the eponymous debut album, Fog. "It was made over the course of a year and a half, and then re-mixed for Ninja [Tune Records] release a year later," says Broder. "It was done on a four track in 2 houses I lived in and in a studio owned by Jeremy Ylvisaker, who plays guitar in the Fog band."\nJust reading the titles of the tracks, one can begin to see the melodrama that unfolds on the record. Titles like, "The Smell of Failure," "Pneumonia," "Fuckedupfuckfuckup," "Hitting a Wall" and "We're a Mess," create an ominous mood. But, the scene is all about perspective. On "Pneumonia," Broder sings, "is it depression or disease," and lyrically, the album doesn't move far from there. The music on that song in particular though is a swinging rock groove mixed with carefree turntable scratches and thus is the struggle. Sometimes, some songs on Fog never coalesce because everything sounds at odds with each other. Perhaps it's because Broder isn't taking himself and his problems too seriously. \n"Music for me is a really hopeful thing even if I am singing about sad stuff," Broder says. "I like that juxtaposition. And yeah, I find that I am never totally ecstatic or totally hopeless. Always somewhere right in the middle, trying to remain empty headed as the Tao says."\nThe album shows the wide range of Broder's musical influences. The punk rock and hip-hop stain is evident, though he says, "both have, at one point or another in my life, been heavy influences on me musically. These days, not really." \nWhat a listener will find on this album is a more contemporary and sophisticated approach to the aforementioned music. Fog sounds like a cross between DJ Shadow's gift for the ambient tone poem and Thom Yorke's desperate crooning. \nThe album also has a certain lo-fi charm to it, so when Broder sings about millipedes and silverfish, you get the feeling he is down there with them. "Heh heh.. yeah, it's quaint shit," says Broder. "The sound of the record is the sound of finding your voice, so I think that it works. I will probably record the next thing kinda different so we'll see what happens."\nBroder has recently begun to tour around North America in support of his first record. "I have three wonderful musicians that play with me," Broder says. "I play turntables, guitar, Wurlitzer and sing. Mark Erickson plays bass and keyboards and sings. Jeremy Ylvisaker plays guitar and keyboards and sings. Martin Dosh plays drums and keyboards and sings." \nFog will come to Bloomington on Saturday, July 20. Jonathan Yuma, who is putting on the show, says, "No one ever brings anything to town that is a little different, electronic or otherwise, so Fog, I thought, would be that something different that Bloomington needs. I'm taking a chance, but even if it doesn't work, at least I'm taking chances and bringing something different here."\nRight now, they are coming out of a thriving music scene in Minneapolis. Another local musician Darren Jackson a.k.a. Kid Dakota, who has worked with Broder says, "Fog is one of the bigger acts in town as far as indie rock goes. The album is also doing quite well. It got a lot of well deserved press." \n"I think Andrew has a brilliant future ahead of him," says Jackson. "He's very passionate about what he does and works very hard." \nIf there is one thing that Broder has shown so far is that he is an uncompromising character. A recent press clipping compared him to Neil Young, and that seems to hold some water. His first album sounds like your reading a diary, where daily banalities and undecipherable inside information come out as a universal code.
(07/25/02 4:00am)
Robert Christgau once wrote about the Flaming Lips in his Village Voice "Consumer Guide" that, "these guys are Not Joking. Ever. Which makes them hopelessly ridiculous." Though I don't plan to contend the validity of this comment, Christgau seems to miss the point.
(07/18/02 4:00am)
It's a modern phenomenon in America to want to categorize everything. All things must have their own specific niche, whether it is for marketing purposes or just for our own state of mind. Those things that go against traditions or blend trends beyond easy recognition must be forced to go it alone.\nIn a sense though, this is how American styles have been created in music. Extensive borrowing combine with the novel appeal of exotic sounds to break open new genres. This is precisely what has kept rock 'n' roll, a seemingly dead-end art form, alive for nearly fifty years now. \n"I just think it will take a while for the gospel to spread," says Andrew Broder, aka Fog, of his debut album Fog. "It is a very difficult album to categorize and this makes the big music monster machine twitch and buzz and clunk and it doesn't like albums like that very much. So it it'll be an uphill battle, but that's why I'm here."\nFog is the pet project of Broder. It can be seen as a compilation soundtrack to the places his life has taken him to so far. \nBroder was born and raised in Minnesota, where he remains today. He is one of the many talented artists that have chosen to work out of Minneapolis. He learned to play a myriad of instruments essential to rock bands as a kid (guitar, piano, bass, drums, etc.) and at the age of 15, began dee-jaying and doing graffiti art. He attended the University of Minnesota for two years, and hated every second of it. \nIt's a common middle-class dilemma Broder had found himself in -- a sort of existentialist anxiety about his place in the world and a struggle for self-definition. Like so many before him and so many since, he dropped out of college and got sick. \nBroder says about this period, "I was tired of squelching my ideas to fit the hip-hop mold. Tired of scratching atop the din of plinking martini glasses at trendy bars. Sick, frail and direction-less. That is when everything changed."\nIn 1998, he started recording the songs that would eventually make up the eponymous debut album, Fog. "It was made over the course of a year and a half, and then re-mixed for Ninja [Tune Records] release a year later," says Broder. "It was done on a four track in 2 houses I lived in and in a studio owned by Jeremy Ylvisaker, who plays guitar in the Fog band."\nJust reading the titles of the tracks, one can begin to see the melodrama that unfolds on the record. Titles like, "The Smell of Failure," "Pneumonia," "Fuckedupfuckfuckup," "Hitting a Wall" and "We're a Mess," create an ominous mood. But, the scene is all about perspective. On "Pneumonia," Broder sings, "is it depression or disease," and lyrically, the album doesn't move far from there. The music on that song in particular though is a swinging rock groove mixed with carefree turntable scratches and thus is the struggle. Sometimes, some songs on Fog never coalesce because everything sounds at odds with each other. Perhaps it's because Broder isn't taking himself and his problems too seriously. \n"Music for me is a really hopeful thing even if I am singing about sad stuff," Broder says. "I like that juxtaposition. And yeah, I find that I am never totally ecstatic or totally hopeless. Always somewhere right in the middle, trying to remain empty headed as the Tao says."\nThe album shows the wide range of Broder's musical influences. The punk rock and hip-hop stain is evident, though he says, "both have, at one point or another in my life, been heavy influences on me musically. These days, not really." \nWhat a listener will find on this album is a more contemporary and sophisticated approach to the aforementioned music. Fog sounds like a cross between DJ Shadow's gift for the ambient tone poem and Thom Yorke's desperate crooning. \nThe album also has a certain lo-fi charm to it, so when Broder sings about millipedes and silverfish, you get the feeling he is down there with them. "Heh heh.. yeah, it's quaint shit," says Broder. "The sound of the record is the sound of finding your voice, so I think that it works. I will probably record the next thing kinda different so we'll see what happens."\nBroder has recently begun to tour around North America in support of his first record. "I have three wonderful musicians that play with me," Broder says. "I play turntables, guitar, Wurlitzer and sing. Mark Erickson plays bass and keyboards and sings. Jeremy Ylvisaker plays guitar and keyboards and sings. Martin Dosh plays drums and keyboards and sings." \nFog will come to Bloomington on Saturday, July 20. Jonathan Yuma, who is putting on the show, says, "No one ever brings anything to town that is a little different, electronic or otherwise, so Fog, I thought, would be that something different that Bloomington needs. I'm taking a chance, but even if it doesn't work, at least I'm taking chances and bringing something different here."\nRight now, they are coming out of a thriving music scene in Minneapolis. Another local musician Darren Jackson a.k.a. Kid Dakota, who has worked with Broder says, "Fog is one of the bigger acts in town as far as indie rock goes. The album is also doing quite well. It got a lot of well deserved press." \n"I think Andrew has a brilliant future ahead of him," says Jackson. "He's very passionate about what he does and works very hard." \nIf there is one thing that Broder has shown so far is that he is an uncompromising character. A recent press clipping compared him to Neil Young, and that seems to hold some water. His first album sounds like your reading a diary, where daily banalities and undecipherable inside information come out as a universal code.
(06/27/02 4:00am)
It is often suggested that soul music cannot be faked, that any hint of discomfort or mortality will show through. While the theory holds quite a bit of water, it is also true that with the carelessness that such talent can afford you comes meticulous craftsmanship.
(04/24/02 4:00am)
(04/18/02 4:00am)
(04/10/02 4:00am)
YOU is back.\n"Comparing the Bloomington scene to the Atlanta scene is like comparing a grain of plain rice to a seven-course feast," YOU founder Nick Niespodziani says. Earlier this year, YOU moved from Bloomington to Decatur, Ga., to try to find its place in the music scene. \nSpeaking of Bloomington's music scene, Niespodziani says, "Does anyone really believe original music is thriving in Bloomington? I hope not." Of course, to some the local music situation looks grave at the moment. With the closing of original music venues like the Cellar Lounge and Secret Sailor, options for local musicians are shrinking. \n"I believe they had some disappointments locally and they just figured, 'Let's get out of here,'" music professor Andy Hollinden says. "Atlanta is a much better town for music."\nYOU found that Bloomington didn't offer much room for growth. \n"If you have aspirations of making records for a living, you have to go to where you can be in the mix with other musicians with similar goals," Niespodziani says. So, YOU finds itself in the mix with the gumbo-like Atlanta music scene. The switch of neighborhoods was not a smooth transition, but the musicians are already reaping the benefits of the wider exposure. \nTheir first show was on St. Patrick's Day, where they played for a crowd of 1,200. Despite only playing two regular gigs and a handful of open mic nights, they have already sold as many copies of their records as they did in Indiana.\nThey have learned that trying to be employed in the music business is like interviewing for any business, though they've found getting gigs easier than they thought it would be. Still, there is a schmoozing end of it that they must adhere to. \n"Pretending to like people and bullshitting about things you 'have in the works' -- i.e., thought about one night when you were stoned -- are not things I enjoy doing. So it is a challenge to play this industry game without compromising my standards for morals, personal conduct and honesty," Niespodziani says. \nThere have also been personal changes within the band. Longtime vocalist Alyssa Finke left the group. YOU bassist Peter Olson says, "Obviously, the soaring lead vocals and tasty harmonies that Alyssa added to the band will be missed." But he adds, "You will definitely hear from Slinky in the future -- count on that."\nYOU musicians are living in a house where they have built a home studio that allows them not only record their own music, but the music of friends and clients. They've been recording a wide range of artists, from rappers to singer-songwriters. They admit that there can be downfalls to working with other artists, but they also see that the act can be beneficial to their own style. \nAnd that is why they've gone to Georgia, not necessarily a musical Mecca, but enough opportunities to satisfy an up-and-coming group. And Atlanta has been a hot bed for new styles of Southern music, with artists such as Outkast and The Black Crowes.\nYOU's sound has reflected the move. The band's last record, Better Live, sounds kind of like Peter, Paul and Mary covering Sly and the Family Stone. YOU likes to call it "rocked-out-psychedelic-soul-hop, with a twist of pop."\nBetter Live contains the impeccable production techniques that many bands revert to when finding themselves in a professional studio for the first time and having to self-produce. "That just happens when a band is in the studio for the first time, with no time constraints. They do a lot of overdubbing and things like that," Hollinden says. Since being in Georgia, YOU has re-cut a few of its songs (including the single "L.A. Lindsay" especially for the Live From Bloomington CD that the musicians feel better reflect the spirit of their live show.\n"The reason things sound so peachy down here in Georgia is because compared to Bloomington they are," Niespodziani says.\nNote: YOU will participate in the Live From Bloomington show Thursday and play an acoustic show in the Union Cafeteria at noon Friday.
(04/03/02 5:00am)
(03/21/02 5:00am)
Walking with Thee\nClinic\nDomino\nAde Blackburn\'s garbled vocals on Clinic's second album Walking With Thee can summon infinite meanings. To me the album sounds like it's about sex, with Blackburns's taut vocals speaking for all of us awkward, frustrated and stupefied boys. \nOn the title track, it is difficult to find any intelligible lyrics except for the title, but the distorted guitars and organ imply a yearning, and when he shouts, "NO!" you know it's something he's being told. "Come Into Our Room," has a suggestive title and the "Halloween"-esque keyboard melody evokes sinister images of seduction, but a major-key counter melody towards the end of the song shows the duality of the character. \nThen there are songs like the closing "For The Wars," a waltz with a familiar nursery rhyme melody. The childlike landscape and the lyrical hook, "you're all made up for the wars," create images of little boys playing sandbox warriors. One could take this as a political statement, but Blackburn's tenor finally sounds confident, which insinuates that he is simply gazing back to childhood. \nThe music compounds the feelings evoked by the lyrics throughout the album. The noisy guitars and British Invasion-like organ suggest sentimentalism, but the use of imaginative beats gives the album a futuristic feel. Live drums are interspersed with programmed beats and odd rhythmic sounds are created by using the melodica. On "The Equaliser," it sounds as if Clinic is using glass ashtrays and aluminum baseball bats to create an immense, danceable clutter.\nSnippets of lyrics from Walking With Thee can reveal so many different meanings. How would you interpret, "good as ever, good as ever… close," from "The Bridge"? Like R.E.M.'s early albums, Clinic refuses to be pinned down by indefinite comprehension. Mysterious albums like these continue to unfold in your imagination, and years later if you somehow figure it out, you'll only be disappointed.\n
(03/06/02 5:00am)
Lucky 7\nReverend Horton Heat\nArtemis Records\nLast weekend I was at a bar in town listening to a couple of strummers on stage playing the light-headed pop favorites of the day and thinking about how much I would give just to see an Elvis impersonator on that stage playing "Mystery Train" or "Milkcow Blues Boogie." I just wanted to hear the force that great rock and roll has. With real rock, no matter who you are, a greek out to get drunk or just someone who likes music, you cannot deny the power.\nI've got nothing against bar bands, but I hate to see acts that dehumanize music. They transform the incontrovertible magic in great rock into a mechanical deed. It doesn't really matter how fast and loud they strum, the truth that is displayed when playing great rock and roll is not something that can be faked.\nThis is the frame of mind I was in when I put on Reverend Horton Heat's latest album, not dejected at the state of rock, just feeling a bit alienated from it. I must admit that this was my first exposure to the Reverend, and without a bit of sarcasm I can say I was converted.\nLucky 7 is not an art record, it's not even a great rock record, it was just a record that has come along at the right time to revitalize my faith in the great rock and roll stage act. This is essentially what the band is -- they played 220 shows in 2001. The vision of this barn-burning act criss-crossing the States, playing totally raucous music, touring under a name with obvious religious connotations and singing about cocaine, tequila, women and automobiles was too much. I wanted to know where to sign up.\nComparing Reverend Horton Heat to swing revivalist Brian Setzer is an unfair pigeonhole. Rev's music takes as much from swing as it does from the Sex Pistols, the Beach Boys and Jerry Lee Lewis. Jim Heath (the Rev) sounds like an evangelist for debauchery, and his two-piece rhythm section perfectly sets up his presence and his surf-style guitar.\nIt seems to me that the records only tell half of the Reverend Horton Heat's story. They are the truest to the rock and roll spirit I've heard in a long time. They are completely unpretentious, and rock harder than Blink-182 or Metallica ever dreamed of.\n
(02/28/02 5:00am)
(02/20/02 5:00am)
Concrete Dunes\nGrandaddy\nLakeshore Records\nPeople flock to California, whether in 1849 or in the '60s, in search of a dream and to burst the regimented daily life of the perceived established towns to the east. \nDestroyed miners, failed actors and musicians, Okies on relief, would find their ideas highly unoriginal. Forced to fall from the city lights, they collected in tiny concrete villages in the middle of the desert and near the railroad line. Quietly, they would eventually turn these landing pads into towns. \nModesto, Calif. is one of these towns, hometown of George Lucas and Grandaddy. Where Lucas escaped the town's doldrums through remarkable fantasy, the members of Grandaddy (in particular, figurehead Jason Lytle) escaped through skateboarding and music. Lytle was too sensitive for the punk rock that is associated with the skateboarding aesthetic though, he was more attracted to the quirkier and mellower sides of Neil Young. \nGrandaddy draws an awful lot from Neil Young, and although in recent years they have transcended his influence, Concrete Dunes shows the heart of his impact. Concrete Dunes is a repackaging of the band's earliest recordings that were previously scattered, hard to find, unavailable, etc. It is the sound of modern Modesto and any of the hundreds of towns like it, the sound of sons and daughters of compromised dreams in a town with nothing to do. \nGrandaddy doesn't sound lazy though, they sound like they're wondering what to do next. Concrete Dunes showcases a confused band at times too, unable to decide between the noisy indie rock their friends would like and the lo-fi ballads and electronic excursions that they\'ve become known for. Here you can hear the two battling it out with mixed results from both ends.\nFull of displaced energy and their surroundings, little stories of their townsfolk are unfolded from snippets of lyrics. "Daddy doctor's son punk rocker shouts/'Dad the A.C.'s broke in our hardcore/Punk rock vacation, vacation rehearsal house'/'We'll get right on, that, I'm sure it's just the thermostat/I'll buy your band a few twelve packs/But your mother wants her bracelets back.'" Contrary to what you've heard, there are uninteresting people in this world, and it doesn't matter if you're in Modesto, Calif. or Bloomington, Ind.\n
(02/20/02 5:00am)
Home\nBlue Moon Revue\nBlue Moon Revue Records\nLocal soul-slingers Blue Moon Revue have released their first album and called it Home. Blue Moon Revue is more like a wedding band than anything else. The group is full of capable musicians whose originals go absolutely nowhere. The exception is keyboardist Andrew Scalercio who really contributes some interesting elements to the album \nBMR play together exceptionally well as a group. They reproduce spot on covers at their shows, and it's obvious that they rehearse often. They've carried this over to the studio, where they've created a clean record with immaculate production value. Because of this though, Home ends up sounding more like an R. Kelly record than the muddy soul and blues they are obviously influenced by. \nWithin the confines of this record, BMR don't seem to be aiming for anything but textbook structure in their songwriting. The sound is reminiscent of Luther Vandross crossed with a bluegrass group, but considerably heavier on the Vandross side. They even go so far as to completely rip off Otis Redding's "Hard to Handle" right down to the brass scores on their own "Time." Unfortunately Matt Marshall's painfully restrained vocals don't have anywhere near the conviction of Redding, or for that matter Chris Robinson's on the Black Crowes' version. \nThe other problem with BMR is their ham-fisted approach to lyric writing. Lines like, "Well Indiana weather it seemed like such a bore/there's gotta be so much more" (from "Montana") and many others come devoid of any wit or sarcasm. Well it's not fair to expect "Moby Dick" from them, but the lyrics sound like the work of sheltered college students.\nOverall, there is nothing really terrible about Home, conversely, there is also nothing very good about it either. There is nothing on this album that will offend the listener outright and not a track on the disc is challenging to listen to. But the near-robotic vocals and the verbose bass lines will wear down the listener to the point that BMR is not too bad for background music.\n
(02/06/02 5:00am)
Eban & Charley\nStephin Merritt\nMerge Records\nStephin Merritt always seemed suited for another life. He holds more in common with Jonathan Larson or Burt Bacharach than with his indie-rock contemporaries. While it has been Merritt's gift for melody and penchant for themes that has thrust him into this paradox, it has been his dourness and quirkiness that has kept him from being a household name.\nMerritt takes the next step towards the Brill Building on his first solo album, Eban & Charley, creating the score to the film by James Burton. This is an obscure movie first screened at the San Francisco Lesbian and Gay Film Festival in 2000. \nNot having seen the movie will make this album very strange to listen to. Ten of the 16 tracks are ambient instrumentals, most of them sounding like a cross between tribal African music and outtakes from Brian Wilson's Smile sessions. There are also surreal distortions of the familiar Christmas tunes "O Tannenbaum" and "Greensleeves." Whether or not these work for the film can be decided later, but for now they make for baffling and uninteresting listening.\nThen there are six songs presented almost as half thoughts, gone before the listener even had a chance. The songs sweep through beautiful visions in the up-tempo "Poppyland," to the gloomy wordplay of "Water Torture" without showing any reason for the mood swing. All six songs are generally likeable, low-key efforts but none of them effectively convey any sort of emotion. \nIt is quite possible that Stephin Merritt has created a brilliant soundtrack for a brilliant movie. It could also be possible that after seeing the movie that this soundtrack will take on a different significance. But as an album, the rewarding moments are few and far between, and the ambient textures are about the same as a leaky faucet and air in the pipes, which you can hear for free. \n