The new album will follow last year’s self-promoted 5-track EP called “Secret” released on download last July, and the band recorded most of the tracks last spring in LA at Lou’s rehearsal space. Defend Yourself is produced by the band and has been mixed by Loewenstein and Folk Implosion collaborator Wally Gagel (who worked with Lou on the 1996 Folk Implosion hit “Natural One” and other FI tracks). The album has been mastered by Pete Lyman (Melvins, St. Vincent, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Jesus Lizard, Male Bonding and countless others) at Infrasonic Sound Recording Co. in LA.

One of the tracks will be “Let It Out.” Have a listen to this solo acoustic version of the track as performed by Lou at LA’s Origami Vinyl record store last April. Thanks to Dumb Numbers’ Adam Harding for the clip.

Sebadoh’s looooooong-awaited new album is out soon; I’ve been sworn to secrecy on label and release details but you’ll have to trust me that it’s going to be good. And eagle-eyed fans will also note the band has a live date posted: they will be playing San Francisco’s Cafe Du Nord, on July 31st.\m/

LISTEN NOW:

]]> http://backstagerider.com/2013/05/17/sebadoh-defend-yourself/feed/ 1 http://backstagerider.com/2013/05/13/kurt-vile-fresh-onlys-live-vancouver/ http://backstagerider.com/2013/05/13/kurt-vile-fresh-onlys-live-vancouver/#comments Tue, 14 May 2013 06:32:26 +0000 Mikala http://backstagerider.com/?p=10765 Oooh it was set to be a good night, even on paper. Steve Gunn – Kurt Vile’s buddy and extra Violator on this tour – filled an early, early set with layered, rich indie-blues – haven’t heard a lot of that, these days. And none so good. Guitar and voice gave a dusty hug to the muttering crowd.

Then San Francisco’s Fresh & Onlys arrived, lookin’ like each of them – singer/guitarist Tim Cohen, guitarist Wymond Miles, bassist Shayde Sartin and drummer Kyle Gibson – belonged in different bands from different genres, but instead united’ to play reverb-heavy poprock, with just enough dreamy sunshine and is-it-just-me-or-does-anyone-else-hear-a-tiny-bit-of-new-wave? All good, check. A highlight? “Waterfall”, during which another dude with weird hair, Mr. Kurt Vile, hopped up and took over the ooh-oooh-ooohs. That eventually lead to a Wymo guitar freakout during last track “Foolish Person”? Which rocked.  But verily! There was even more ahead!

More of a head indeed. Kurt Vile sloped back onto the Biltmore stage, bowed head, face obscured by curls and set off on the dusty trail of what Kurt Vile does best: ambling, textured, slowmo guitar rock. Too clever for the chronic set, too slack to be Sonic Youth, KV inhabits a chilled in-between space. Kurt’s songs sound like they emanate from a body lying on a tattered couch, chewing his words into a warm, dusky night. Yet rather than fizzle out, there’s sadness and self-reflection in the smoke ring for his bong hit. Opener “Wakin on a Pretty Day” (the almost-title of his excellent new album, Wakin on a Pretty Daze, produced by John Agnello) set the tone: “To be frank I’m fried/But I don’t mind/Yeah, yeah yeah…”

“KV Crimes”, also from WoaPD rolled on next, as did the album’s “Girl Called Alex”, “Shame Chamber” and ender “Was All Talk”. The Violators – Jesse Trbovich, Rob Laakso and new drummer Vince Nudo – provided the backbone. ’Course the biggest crowd smiles and widest songs came from the also-awesomely-produced-by-Agnello Smoke Ring For My Halo: “Jesus Fever” and “Baby’s Arms” owned, “On Tour” and “Peeping Tom” stretched out. “Hunchback” and “Freaktrain” from Childish Prodigy ended the set before the encore.   Songs don’t vary wildly in Vileland, but that’s fine – come prepared to pick away at little layers, and leave perfectly content.

At the aftershow party at the city’s veggie restaurant-cum-late-night-micro-bar, Vile happily bounced around in the light rain, riffing with me about summer tours and asking an old friend excitedly if she’d ever seen the Happy Mondays, which set him – and us – off singing “Wrote for Luck” and “Hallelujah” loud into the  night. Clutching a special “Violator” cocktail, clowning around with the F&Os or dancing and singing along to Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams’, Vile seemed perfectly content. “How are YOU?” he asked. And at the end of the night, when three of us huddled around his phone in the rain to watch Neneh Cherry’s “Buffalo Stance” and all blurted out “So/Don’t/You/Get/Fresh/With me!” and laughed, the answer was clear. How am I? I”ve had a night in Vileland. I’m perfectly content. \m/

And then came Toronto’s METZ.

Fattened from their mid-afternoon pop-up barbecue (former tourmates and locals Ladyhawk rocked up in a pick-up truck with a hibachi and grilled outside the venue), the three-piece took the headlining slot. They’re now indie darlings, have been on tour non-stop since October and are pretty much listed on every European festival bill between now and the end of time. SubPop is working hard to hustle them – and rightly so.

And with Metz on stage, came more fierce and epic punk. The fast-forward, actually organized circle pit of mosh from White Lung’s set instead turned into an insane wall of near-death, heaving and ho’ing so furiously that a girl ended up sitting on stage, back to the band, her shoes pried off by the movement and unable to actually get off the stage because of four human rows stacked on top of her. She seemed happy, though. ARRRROOOOOGHARRRGHPUNK!

Certainly, any punk show is a not-so-safe-place where industrial-era-worthy steam can be let off.  But a METZ show requires it. Singer Alex Edkins blasts through almost all their self-titled debut (don’t recall hearing “Rats” or “— )) –” but there was a new song called “Can’t Understand”) with a ferocity that pushes every ounce of sweat from his body, leads him to perch on the bass drum, and makes him lie on his back playing his guitar. Bassist Chris Slorach magically keeps up with whatever insanity is happening to his right and behind him, the bassline schizo. He blows out his cheeks to keep up, and does. At the back, tattooed drummer Hayden Menzies plays hard like breeze blocks but fast and with precision.

And you? You got no choice but to go with it. And so the Wall of Death reaches out to burn itself on the volcanic centre – three young guys making epically fierce and fiercely epic punk rock. Feel like you need to pop a gasket? Catch a METZ. After all, with visceral stuffs this good, they will be on tour until the end of time. \m/

You need to know about Bestie, bb. They’re a four-piece from VanCity, they play ridiculously happifying music, their singer, Tristan Orchard, is also a DJ and promoter – one of the city’s best, in fact. They also like edibles, yo. Check out their stoopidly fun video “Pineapple” and throw an eyeball or two on the live version of “Sriracha.” I mean, how can you not like a band that sings about the red cock rooster?

Check out the videos and hear more over at Bestie on Soundcloud, and here is:

The Top 11 Things You Need To Know About Bestie

by Bestie’s Robert Cameron:

Purveyors of warm indie pop, the band gave it their everything, and the audience returned it doubly. Singalongs during “Airplanes” and the wide “Sunhands” filled the room, Talking Heads’ “Warning Sign” rolled happily out. Bros closed their eyes and beamed along, while one dude leaned over, pointed at my camera as I scrolled through photos, called them “choice” and instructed me to give the guys on stage “more credit! Because they’re awesome!” as if my pictures could do so. Young girls reached out for Taylor Rice, yelling lyrics and pushing their smiles toward him, as he stomped his feet and his songs into the stage while he played.  It was, at any given moment, as if the audience as a whole, wanted to give the band a hug. And you know, they deserved it.  \m/

It not about note-perfection or slickness. It’s not about saving your big hit for last. It’s not about fancy lights. It’s not about sucking up. It’s not about pretty faces. It’s not about whether the music’s ever been done before (because it all has, including for the Palma Violets, who channel 70s UK garage rock mixed with the Libertines.)  

It’s about having your hypeman/mate Harry introduce you as if you’re Oasis, then jump into the audience to cheer things on. It’s about having an unmistakable English cockiness that beard-wearing Americana shoegazers should borrow. (Though hat-tip to tonight’s openers Guards for their headliner-sized energy). It’s about having the confidence to look your crowd in the eyes, ask the box to turn up the lights and interact with folks beyond the first row. It’s about leaving the stage and climbing the speakers and shaking your maracas. It’s about asking the crowd to raise their hands aloft and having them comply (see video.)

It’s about locking in: bassist Chilli and guitarist Sam (vocalists, both) playing up against each other to make the music transfer between them. It’s about Pete’s keyboard channeling the Doors. It’s about Will the drummer pounding like chaos. It’s about swagger and drunken abandon but still being able to play your songs well. It’s about kicking off with “Johnny Bagga Donuts” from scratchy debut 180, storming through “Tom the Drum” and the rest, and doing your big hit (“Best of Friends”) in the middle of the set. It’s about the moment when your tour manager likes you enough to do percussion on a song, and the fact that you get sweaty after two.

It’s about being raucous; it’s about being charismatic; it’s about respecting your fans enough to stick around at the end of the show to graciously hug, thank and share beers with all of them them. It’s about capturing the attention of young ladies, but still deciding to go a quick skateboard down the street outside the club.

It’s about being young, but not being a punk. It’s about BEING PUNK while playing a cover of the Hot Nasties’ “Invasion of the Tribbbles” (see video.). And it’s about your own stage turning into a mosh pit of YOUR OWN BAND MEMBERS dancing into each other and grinning wildly.

It’s about your final song, “Brand New Song” inspiring said band members to stagedive and be held aloft, transported to the back of the low-ceiling’ed room on the hands of fans. And, finally, perfectly, it’s about your keyboardist running and diving onto the drummer, knocking him and the kit fully over in the last seconds. It’s all been done before but this, this is what it’s all about.

It’s about rock and roll. And that is why the Palma Violets put on the best gig of the year so far. See them now while they still sweat for it. \m/

Click on all photos to embiggen

Using the same elegant set – lights and drums that appear to make sounds and light up when hit, giant puffed-rice-ish lamps – that they’ve been hauling around for the past year or so, Purity Ring’s fairytale electro washed over a sold-out, all-ages crowd at the Vogue Theatre. Megan James’ voice – a baby Liz Fraser to match their Cocteau babble song titles – filled the full room, while partner Corin Roddick bore down behind his knobs and keyboards.

Speaking only once or twice, to announce the impending Souljaboy cover “Grammy”, and slinking around the stage to gently grasp reaching-out hands, James seems to be finally millimetering out of her shy chrysalis. It’s like watching the XX – the music sounds brilliant but there’s little warmth in the live show. In fact, poof! They burst out, then fly. No encore. After a set including, well, most of Shrines, they ended with “Fineshrines” then fluttered away.  House lights on, Purity Ring gone, and nothing but the memory of a lovely little one-album-long gig hanging in the room.  \m/

The Veils didn’t have a chance, really. Despite critical acclaim, rollicking live shows, singer Finn Andrews’ wide, clear voice, and the promise of a new album (Time Stays, We Go) out 4/29…The Veils were no match for the particular brand of 4/20 crazy that had rocked up at their Vancouver show.

In a city known for its tremendous pot-headery (which is fiiine with me, man), the Electric Owl on this night attracted a weird group. The crowd were a combination of boring dinner and date-night couples (“…and I’ll have a side of whatever band is playing, please!”) overdressed girls awaiting the club night afterwards, complete asshats and a smattering of actual fans.

Witness:

To the right, Dumb & Dumber: impossible to ignore, wankered and obnoxious, two superfan boys took over the front row. Singing louder than Andrews and out of tune, clapping out of beat, screaming during the quiet bits (or during their own videoing), trying to slap the band’s hands in between songs – wow, they were a special kind of ENTIRE SET ANNOYANCE.

Erase the fanboys, though, and the songs were good – easy-listening, airy UK indie rock with moments of genuine lost-in-the-musicky rockness. But it was hard to hear those songs  - I had to wedge an earplug in one ear to block out the douchebags, and close my eyes to avoid the unwanted stimulus. For the first song, the band looked bemused at the chaos, for the rest, they powered through with a workmanlike manner, with Andrews finally taking a mild potshot through a strained smile at the braying bros (“I want to play this song for you because you’ve been so great”) towards the end of the set.

Then, to the left, Drunk Middle-Aged Couple. Clearly there for shits and giggles, not the band. Well done for making out for 5+ minutes directly in front of guitarist Dan Raishbrook on the low stage. Way to respect the band and everyone around you!

And finally on the far right, the Stage Left Stoners! Thanks, ladies, for deciding to crawl on stage and hop around next to bassist Sophia Burn. Yes! I can see that you’re wearing a Nux Vomica shirt! But no! No, I don’t want to look at it anymore!  If I’d wanted to hang out at the Roxy I would have – I paid to see a band from London, not you.  And BONUS: oh look a second dolt on stage. This one so far gone that after the show she tried to talk to us using only consonants.

But the band played on. Running through a whack from Time Stays, starting with “Train with No Name”, and including “Through the Deep Dark Wood”, “The Pearl” “Turn from the Rain” and  ”Out from the Valley & Into the Stars” as well as “Calliope!”, “Birds”,”Vicious Traditions” and “Nux Vomica” among the rest of the set, the Veils played well, but with a sort of reservation on their faces that reflected what I was thinking: let’s just get through this/maybe they’ll shut up eventually/how can you tear down fans?

How, indeed. But I wish Andrews’ had.

Still, with my one pro-drummer earplug wedged as deeply as possible in my right ear and my eyes closed, it was a little bit easier to dig the Veils. Just not everyone else. In fact, you can take your reefer madness and get off my lawn, you goddamn whippersnappers. \m/

Normally her face is stuck to the camera, standing in the same spot, trying to snag a shot in the shitty blue Biltmore Cabaret light. She protects her pints from spilling under the speaker and enjoys show after show, many blending together in memory.

But for Brooklyn’s the MEN (not New York’s MEN, the JD Samson joint), her face keeps turning around, leaving the camera and the stage, to look at her friends, wide-eyed and excited. Her friends nod back. One mouths “WOAH.”  To her left, another music writer known only for losing his shit to Guided By Voices atypically rocks out dancing. HOLY CRAP! THIS IS SO GOOD!

Call them what you want – there’s a bucket marked post-punk with the MEN’s name on it sitting  in every review, now including this one. Punk is the scattershot fuzz of the old-old stuff. But mix in the newer stuff, the heart of the country/Americana (or Canadiana if you’re going down the Rust Never Sleeps route) stuff, and you’ve got a frenetic and compelling blend live.

Guitarist Ben Greenberg took the most crazy risks/leads, throwing his energy into massive string bending and lurching about the stage. Mark Perro handled the piano, acoustic, and harmonica. Nick Chiericozzi took rhythm. Kevin Faulkner and Rich Samis epically powered the back end on bass and drums.  Ben, Nick and Mark swapped vocals. 

Latest album New Moon (“Half Angel Half Light”, “I Saw Her Face”, “The Brass ” and “Electric” among them), and Open Your Heart tracks featured most heavily, but it was the Hüsker Dü-like fuck-yeah intensity that caused the girl to turn around to her friends. In other words, holy crap, The MEN live? Sooo good. \m/

]]> http://backstagerider.com/2013/04/21/the-men/feed/ 0 http://backstagerider.com/2013/04/17/alt-j-vancouver/ http://backstagerider.com/2013/04/17/alt-j-vancouver/#comments Thu, 18 Apr 2013 05:11:40 +0000 Mikala http://backstagerider.com/?p=10429 It was a given that Alt-J’s first-ever show in Vancouver would blow minds – probably even the minds of the yappy ones blathering through the pristine, quieter moments. Their rise has been accelerated, their touring incessant, their 14-16 songs played one trillion times live in the past year, their shows, like tonight, selling out large rooms and theatres.

Multiple tours under their belts already has honed the University of Leeds four-piece into the kind of note-perfect performers you’d expect. This is, after all, a bunch of talented chaps whose debut won the Mercury and got nominated for the Brits. An Awesome Wave – dynamic, expansive, clever, well-produced – captured my attention and was by far my most-played album of 2012.

Joe Newman and Gus Unger-Hamilton’s harmonies raise hairs on arms. Thom Sonny Green is the heavy hitting, heavy metal drummer applying his art in an artsy band, resulting in a fascinating blend of styles. He is truly, truly a great drummer. Gwil Sainsbury – whose 25th birthday was fêted on stage with a cake – layers out the harmonies, supports on bass and rocks a pair of castanets. And let’s just mention Hamilton once more, the Nord Viking whose keyboard deck powers the whole lush affair.

At the Commodore they sounded perfect, at Coachella they earned the following. They’ve earned it, they’ve earned it, they’ve earned it.

But lest I disappear too far up my own colon – it’s time for real talk. This is now the third time I’ve seen Alt-J in three different countries. I’ve seen them at a festival Belgium, as an opener in Seattle and a headliner in Vancouver (still kicking myself for missing them in London last June). They sound beautiful each time.

But while everyone was busy loving them for the first time in Vancouver, I couldn’t help but think that this was not the humbled, grinning, hungry band I saw at Pukkelpop in August – the genuinely gobsmacked-at-the-attention tent-fillers. They’re now a bunch of pros. Okay, awesome. But each time I see Alt-J I sort of hope that the next time I see Alt-J they start fucking with their sound a bit – if only for their own sanity.

I know they can do it, and well, too; “Fitzpleasure” is already four songs in one, so why not start decon- and reconstructing? Get loose. I mean, Christ, Joe sings “in your snatch fits pleasure/broom-shaped pleasure”, and that’s pretty loose, so go for it, lad! Three shows in – okay, it’s not 300 – and I’ve yet to see Alt-J let loose. (Though a fab little mashup created back in October that they call “Slow Dre” – mixing Kylie Minogue and Dr Dre – has now made into the setlist).

I want to know what happens if Alt-J loosen the reigns. I wonder if they do, too.

But I also know that the rigors of touring mean that you can barely sort out what day it is, let alone create new structures for your music. People don’t want to see a Cubist Mona Lisa, do they? They want to queue for the real thing. I get it.

So what’s a band to do? If they can’t get off the road for a bit, then they need to get muddy on it.

After the show, as we were discussing the NEXT Vancouver show upcoming in just 5 short months, I joked with Thom and Gus that someone should take them off the road, and both laughed. Of course, I will be at the next show – 5th row I think – and I will never get tired of hearing anything from An Awesome Wave. But I hope that in time,  Alt-J get enough time off to plug into the confidence they’ve earned, and power into stranger territory. I know they can. And that’s where things will get really interesting once again.

Was the show excellent? Of course it was. Alt-J can do no wrong; and that’s just the point. I’d like to see them try. \m/

Click on all the photos to embiggen.