Team Band played at Ronny's last Friday. It was a cassette release show, as Team Band now has a cassette through Fast Geek Empire, limited to 100 copies...we wanted to mark the event with some rowdiness.
Ronny's is one of those small Chicago venues which doesn't even register for some people because they rarely have "bigger" shows. Ronny's bar is run by the eponymous Ronny and his wife, who blast Spanish language soap operas, sell only PBR, and are generally rather cranky and tired-looking. However, it's a lovely place to play, a converted garage with no stage and monitors strapped to cinder blocks. A ceiling fan creaks and dangles dangerously low over the crowd--I once saw a guy being body passed whose leg almost knocked the whole apparatus down--and the soundboard is covered by a tropical-looking thatched roof. Ronny's is a place that you don't mind getting a little crazy at.
The Cathy Santonies opened with a fast-paced and intense set, featuring what I thought were some interesting leads by the lead guitarist. True to form, the sound bounced all over the walls of the garage and made the music even more cacauphanous than it already was. Next came Rooftop Vigilantes from Lawrence, Kansas, featuring a beautiful red Farfisa and two riotous guitarist/bassists who managed to combine extreme intensity and theatrics with pretty accurate playing--something I certainly value. Oscar--I think it was Oscar--fell into the drum set at the end of the show.
We opened our set by offering a free case of PBR (bought at a discount from Ronny) to the crowd. It was devoured instantly and we were off. Highlights included--Greg being tackled by a few audience members while singing--me wrestling mid-song with Evan--the usual audience-played percussion. Then the strap lock somehow slipped off my guitar strap, leaving the guitar more or less unstrapped, even while motionless. In addition, I had decided to use pedals during this show, and they predictably became a mess of overturned and unplugged objects, so I yanked the cable and plugged directly into my guitar amp, trying to find the right volume level. This didn't happen and I erred on the side of being too loud, so I abandoned the guitar, sang "Fight Song" with Greg, kicked over an auxiliary drum, and then attempted to play the final tune, a cover of "Any Way You Want It" incorporating "Three Day Weekend." Greg knocked that one out of the park, I think.
All in all...a success, minus some bruising and my bleeding toe from kicking the drum. And people kept referring to me all night as the "new guitarist" in Team Band...
23 February 2009
18 February 2009
Noise at Bottle Monday
This week brought me finally to the Empty Bottle for the free Monday shows, to see Lichens, someone I know little about but whose international buzz (though he's a Chicago local) packed the house. This night was also a listening party for the "Dark Was the Night" CD compilation release. The Bottle is really a lovely venue when it's not crowded, empty as it was when we arrived, all dark and dingy and displaying its past triumphs proudly like any respectable venue should--posters, grafitti, and the like. The bizarre L-shaped room is unique among music joints in these parts, although it totally makes sense and provides a nice sort of seclusion between the crowded bar and the piles of gear and soundboard that are just perched among the patrons. On this night, free PBR tall boys were offered in celebration of the release, although the bartender said it was for a Matador listening party and no one mentioned the CD or its issue-raising agenda or anything like that. I'm just not sure how these things work.
The first group to play were a noise quartet consisting of drums, guitar, and bari and tenor sax. The group set up in the middle of the floor and played an intense set. The set itself was intricately arranged while still retaining the spontaneous feel of improvised music. The two unamplified saxes played a lot of dissonant harmonies, squeals, and tastefully terrifying lines, and both players contorted and swayed like two snakes as they wrenched as much volume as they could from their instruments.
The rhythm section was less impressive. The drumming was predictably busy, purposefully devoid of time signature, and anti-groove. The guitar playing was the most irritating, displaying what Evan and I felt was a lack of development and ambition. The guitarist played a Strat straight through a Fender Deluxe turned up to an excruciating volume, and played what is basically the usual thing for this type of music--open-string extended chords, anti-solo blasts on the high strings, and extreme bending, all with little or no regard for time, key, or logic. I know this is in some way the goal of noise music--to destroy these conventions and assault the listener with extreme, sometimes discomforting use of sound--but there's something else to it than this. It felt like an imitation of noise, devoid of dynamics, development, or catharsis. Without those things, there's no way for the listener to engage, and the musical journey, while taking place in a public space ostensibly for public use, is completely private and appears arbitrary to any listener. The journey is solely for the musicians themselves.
Of course, one can minimize content with the goal of forcing boredom upon the listener, done so well in the early films of Andy Warhol. But with so much actual content--not to say musical content, but notes, volume, and movement--this doesn't seem to be the case. Hence my disappointment, augmented by fascination.
The second group to play, Extra Life from New York City, were exceptionally talented musicians who seemed to be overthinking things. The singer was a twee, impeccably coiffed bird of a figure who sang with a pre-Renaissance clarity and a tonality that reminded me of Morrissey. The band behind him played meticulously arranged, clangy progressive-goth progressions featuring unusual instruments like an electronic clarinet and a Danelectro baritone guitar. The music was interesting enough, but I don't usually go for such hyper-arrangements and fantasy-inspired lyrics. Banter of the set--"stick around for Larkin Grimm. They gave me a really positive Tarot reading before the show."
The third band, Larkin Grimm, featured a songwriter from elsewhere, a Joanna Newsom-like autoharpist who sang in the far reaches of soprano, a violinist who tastefully functioned as a melodic counterpoint, and a Chinese harpist (the only male in the group). The group had some good harmonies, but were undercut by the persona of their lead singer and guitarist, whose generally self-important air chafed me often. Between songs, directed at the soundman--"could I get more of everything in the monitors? Because I can't hear ANYTHING up here." Later, directed at the audience--"we're one of those softcore lesbian porn bands." The sort of comments, generally, that are only one step short of, "damn right you should be applauding, these songs are IMPORTANT and so am I." Common lyrical threads included the Earth extracting brutal revenge on humanity, and being really angry at someone and wishing bad upon them. I know there are different personality styles, but people act ridiculous when they get onstage. Count me in on that one too, I guess.
We didn't stay for Lichens, tired and beaten by the misguided music of these young people.
Recording is on hold for this week as Katri makes her visit from Finland. We will resume with renewed zeal next week.
The first group to play were a noise quartet consisting of drums, guitar, and bari and tenor sax. The group set up in the middle of the floor and played an intense set. The set itself was intricately arranged while still retaining the spontaneous feel of improvised music. The two unamplified saxes played a lot of dissonant harmonies, squeals, and tastefully terrifying lines, and both players contorted and swayed like two snakes as they wrenched as much volume as they could from their instruments.
The rhythm section was less impressive. The drumming was predictably busy, purposefully devoid of time signature, and anti-groove. The guitar playing was the most irritating, displaying what Evan and I felt was a lack of development and ambition. The guitarist played a Strat straight through a Fender Deluxe turned up to an excruciating volume, and played what is basically the usual thing for this type of music--open-string extended chords, anti-solo blasts on the high strings, and extreme bending, all with little or no regard for time, key, or logic. I know this is in some way the goal of noise music--to destroy these conventions and assault the listener with extreme, sometimes discomforting use of sound--but there's something else to it than this. It felt like an imitation of noise, devoid of dynamics, development, or catharsis. Without those things, there's no way for the listener to engage, and the musical journey, while taking place in a public space ostensibly for public use, is completely private and appears arbitrary to any listener. The journey is solely for the musicians themselves.
Of course, one can minimize content with the goal of forcing boredom upon the listener, done so well in the early films of Andy Warhol. But with so much actual content--not to say musical content, but notes, volume, and movement--this doesn't seem to be the case. Hence my disappointment, augmented by fascination.
The second group to play, Extra Life from New York City, were exceptionally talented musicians who seemed to be overthinking things. The singer was a twee, impeccably coiffed bird of a figure who sang with a pre-Renaissance clarity and a tonality that reminded me of Morrissey. The band behind him played meticulously arranged, clangy progressive-goth progressions featuring unusual instruments like an electronic clarinet and a Danelectro baritone guitar. The music was interesting enough, but I don't usually go for such hyper-arrangements and fantasy-inspired lyrics. Banter of the set--"stick around for Larkin Grimm. They gave me a really positive Tarot reading before the show."
The third band, Larkin Grimm, featured a songwriter from elsewhere, a Joanna Newsom-like autoharpist who sang in the far reaches of soprano, a violinist who tastefully functioned as a melodic counterpoint, and a Chinese harpist (the only male in the group). The group had some good harmonies, but were undercut by the persona of their lead singer and guitarist, whose generally self-important air chafed me often. Between songs, directed at the soundman--"could I get more of everything in the monitors? Because I can't hear ANYTHING up here." Later, directed at the audience--"we're one of those softcore lesbian porn bands." The sort of comments, generally, that are only one step short of, "damn right you should be applauding, these songs are IMPORTANT and so am I." Common lyrical threads included the Earth extracting brutal revenge on humanity, and being really angry at someone and wishing bad upon them. I know there are different personality styles, but people act ridiculous when they get onstage. Count me in on that one too, I guess.
We didn't stay for Lichens, tired and beaten by the misguided music of these young people.
Recording is on hold for this week as Katri makes her visit from Finland. We will resume with renewed zeal next week.
11 February 2009
Fighting guitars
Fingerpicking has to be precise if it is to function properly. We made a second try on "We've Been Working So Long," which features a soft bed of fingerpicked guitar and banjo. Unfortunately I was fighting the Martin and so even though the notes are there, the dynamics and timing aren't. We're going to have to make a third try at it. I think we'll move on to something else in the meantime. I think I'll start practicing with a metronome, perhaps at double time to iron this out. I want it to be smooth as glass, like Mark Kozelek's playing on April or Ghosts of the Great Highway.
Recording is already giving me a much deeper idea of what musicianship means. Not only hitting notes, but having some kind of dynamic feeling and having precise timing, which are concepts that don't mean anything until you hear yourself on a recording. Then there's the trick of actually being able to do this on record, which almost never captures the "best" performance.
I have a friend who studies classical guitar, and his teacher refers occasionally to the concept of "musical content"--more than just hitting the right notes but mastering the notes such that one can actually put some feeling on them. This is what needs to be developed.
Another thing my friend's teacher said was something like, "if it's not easy, it's impossible." I am finding that this is true especially in a recording situation, not only in live performance.
It was 65 and sunny yesterday, 45 and rainy today. Unseasonable, abominable, incredible.
Recording is already giving me a much deeper idea of what musicianship means. Not only hitting notes, but having some kind of dynamic feeling and having precise timing, which are concepts that don't mean anything until you hear yourself on a recording. Then there's the trick of actually being able to do this on record, which almost never captures the "best" performance.
I have a friend who studies classical guitar, and his teacher refers occasionally to the concept of "musical content"--more than just hitting the right notes but mastering the notes such that one can actually put some feeling on them. This is what needs to be developed.
Another thing my friend's teacher said was something like, "if it's not easy, it's impossible." I am finding that this is true especially in a recording situation, not only in live performance.
It was 65 and sunny yesterday, 45 and rainy today. Unseasonable, abominable, incredible.
06 February 2009
Irony bikes
Today is already legendary in Chicago, and it's barely afternoon. It's 45 degrees, unseasonably and suddenly warm. I had been looking forward to riding my bike comfortably around the city, but it's so friendly outside that I've been walking it from place to place.
Last night was a double feature of concerts, a rare treat. I went with Evan to the Gene Siskel Film Center to see a short program that paired local video artists with local experimental noise groups, including Interbellum and Haptic. As is the case with a lot of noise/drone shows I've seen, there were fleeting moments of hair-raising precision and intensity, interspersed with only somewhat compelling passages. I suppose this is how drone works for me- the performance is a search for the optimal moment to hit a musical peak of volume and intensity. Stripped of tools like melody and harmonic structural integrity, it's just that much more bare. I'm looking forward to the days when Evan can get his setup in order and begin performing his dense, powerful, and abrasive sound-art pieces. I'd like him to play in a rock band someday.
Later, we saw Tortoise at the Empty Bottle. Their musicianship was of course unparalleled, as was their gear. Jeff Parker appeared to be using a genuine ES-335 dot neck, a gutsy choice for onstage use. Also on display were a 50s-style P-bass that sounded great--an early-60s P-bass, slightly more clear and punchy--a 60s Jazzmaster, which contrasted brilliantly with the 335--and an original Fender Bass VI, still one of the coolest electric instruments ever made in my opinion. Monophonic synths crushed listeners with pounding melodies, polyphonic ones rounded it out. Thax was there and read "Tortoise #8" before the show. The older stuff they played seemed more inspired somehow, less precise. The players have reached such high levels of musicianship that they seem to be unable to avoid more defined structures at this point. Which suits some stuff, but not other stuff. There wasn't the same buzz around the band members that I imagined before. At one point Evan turned to me and asked if I thought the players felt weird that their scene has passed them by, with so many people having left and moved on. I guess we'll find out someday.
Last night was a double feature of concerts, a rare treat. I went with Evan to the Gene Siskel Film Center to see a short program that paired local video artists with local experimental noise groups, including Interbellum and Haptic. As is the case with a lot of noise/drone shows I've seen, there were fleeting moments of hair-raising precision and intensity, interspersed with only somewhat compelling passages. I suppose this is how drone works for me- the performance is a search for the optimal moment to hit a musical peak of volume and intensity. Stripped of tools like melody and harmonic structural integrity, it's just that much more bare. I'm looking forward to the days when Evan can get his setup in order and begin performing his dense, powerful, and abrasive sound-art pieces. I'd like him to play in a rock band someday.
Later, we saw Tortoise at the Empty Bottle. Their musicianship was of course unparalleled, as was their gear. Jeff Parker appeared to be using a genuine ES-335 dot neck, a gutsy choice for onstage use. Also on display were a 50s-style P-bass that sounded great--an early-60s P-bass, slightly more clear and punchy--a 60s Jazzmaster, which contrasted brilliantly with the 335--and an original Fender Bass VI, still one of the coolest electric instruments ever made in my opinion. Monophonic synths crushed listeners with pounding melodies, polyphonic ones rounded it out. Thax was there and read "Tortoise #8" before the show. The older stuff they played seemed more inspired somehow, less precise. The players have reached such high levels of musicianship that they seem to be unable to avoid more defined structures at this point. Which suits some stuff, but not other stuff. There wasn't the same buzz around the band members that I imagined before. At one point Evan turned to me and asked if I thought the players felt weird that their scene has passed them by, with so many people having left and moved on. I guess we'll find out someday.
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