Photo credit: Courtney Campbell

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MP3: Mimicking Birds – Home and somewhere else

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MP3: Japanese Motors – Bummin’ Out

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MP3: Modest Mouse – Doin’ the Cockroach (Live)

Odds are if you were at Rams Head on Thursday you were there for Modest Mouse (Wiki), who are admittedly one of the best bands of our time.  In fact, I was recently debating with a friend whether “Float On” might not be the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” of indie rock–the song that really introduced the genre into the popular consciousness. 

But knowing that frontman Isaac Brock previously worked as a talent scout for Sub Pop records and was actually the driving force behind their signing Iron & Wine and The Shins (surprisingly that honor dosen’t belong to Zach Braff) had me wondering what kind of bands the mighty Mouse would tour with.  Mimicking Birds and Japanese Motors were both complete unknowns to me prior to this tour, so I went in with an open mind and not much else.

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MP3: The Smiths – This Charming Man

With recent shows cancelled due to illness, I was relieved that Morrissey’s show at Warner Theatre actually took place!   Two years ago I saw him at Rams Head (on Halloween night in fact), and was so pleased with his set list!   Therefore, I was anticipating this show for months.  

As Morrissey took the stage to “This Charming Man,” the mood was electrifying.  Fans rushed the stage with hands desperately reached out to touch his as Morrissey greeted his fans gratefully.   I was star struck, I must admit.  Throughout the night, however, my energy slowly declined.  I was pleased with the beginning of the set, but as the night progressed, I became slightly bored.  

Morrissey’s performance was top notch.  His stage production was beautiful and sound quality was excellent, but I left a bit disappointed with the lack of  classics that I heard.  It was clear that Morrissey was supporting his new album, Years of Refusal, but it would have still been nice to enjoy some old-time favorites as well.  The worst part of the night for me came when Morrissey spouted out, “There’s always someone with a big nose who knows” just prior to breaking into song.  I became very excited anticipating “Cemetery Gates,: but that is not what I heard.  

I was bummed!  

After only one encore consisting of one song, I was shocked to find that the show was over.  It was surprisingly short and I’m sure some would blame that on his recent “illness;” however, I guess I should be grateful for the opportunity to see him again.  My love of Morrissey stems from The Smiths and that is where my devotion lies, I suppose.  Anyway, if you were at the show you may have a different opinion but regardless, I’m sure we can agree that Morrissey is nothing short of perfect.  

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Sian Alice Group traveled a long way to be a part of this bill, and they certainly stepped up to the plate. An energetic, if at times monotonous, showing that often called to mind the bluesy garage churn of the Kills and Sons and Daughters. Their twist is a bit more adventuresome forays into atmospherics and nuanced repetition and painstakingly measured progression and growth that would be the envy of any aspirators to post-rock.

Vetiver was hotly anticipated, almost as much as headliners Beach House. Seemed everyone was yearning for a taste of their take on folk. Their sound was a vital and invitingly warm one, gentle giants of guitar lines floating airily around the room made the relatively small club stage feel like it opened into a big grassy field. This is the stuff of sunny days and ear-to-ear, Cheshire-size grins.

There was little question when Beach House took the stage that they were the act of the night. It seems they’ve managed to find their comfort zone just outside of the hazy dreams of their repertoire, finding an area of the slightest bit more lucidity to exponential effect. Their live show is progressing nicely from escapist and enshrouding to immediate and captivating.

Sian Alice Group

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All photos: Greg Szeto

Bad Liquor Pond

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There’s an old, bittersweet saying that goes something along the lines of this: “You can never go home again.”

I’d like to submit an exception to that statement: “…unless you call Baltimore home.”

This past Friday, the Windup Space’s recently constructed stage was adorned not unlike someone’s living room, with antiqueish/kitschy decor such as Buddha lamps.  The warm yellow glow of incandescent bulbs cast a much warmer light than the typically harsh stage lights.  The room was nicely filled before Ami Dang took the stage, and things felt cozy.

Dang’s blend of traditional Indian sitar and classical singing with experimental electronics grows more effective with each successive performance.  Her voice ranges from subtle and sublime to massive and nearly overwhelming in power.  The intimate nature of her performance requires rapt attentiveness for full-effect, and in that the crowd failed.  A large din of chatter often broke into Dang’s delicately crafted silences; but these distractions quickly fell away whenever Dang let loose her vocals.  I’m convinced that given the right amping, Dang could obliterate buildings with them.

Lone Wolf was a rather chaotic drum/vocal one-man act (backed by sax) that was too discombobulated for me to follow.   I may have prematurely written them off, but I found myself supremely disinterested.

Celebration, on the other hand, struck with the orchestrated fury of a tsunami, combining equal parts wild-eyed frenzy, atmospheric experimentalism and soulful pop leanings.  Their last performance in Baltimore was months ago, and it showed in the earnestness of their performance.  They hadn’t really left Baltimore, but it felt like a triumphant homecoming nonetheless.  A projected flickring fire on the back wall, warmly welcoming and complementing the homeyness of the decor and the gentle, wafting scent of some sort of wood incense in the air.  

The nature of Celebration’s primal pop is such that it envelopes you in its feral folds; rather than coming off as some foreign, distant spectacle, there is an allure, a warmth that emanates from Celebration that draws you into their music and performance.  This was magnified tenfold by the cozy trappings of the space.  As things often tend to go in Baltimore, the mood at the Windup swiftly became one of old friends reunited, the time that had passed becoming a brief footnote in a long-standing and deep fraternity, united by a common bond: love of music.

Ami Dang

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All Photos: Greg Szeto

After seeing School of Seven Bells (SVIIB, Wiki) play live, it became apparent to me why Ben Curtis may have been driven to leave the Secret Machines at a seemingly inopportune time. Curtis’ musical ideas clearly wanted to go in a more atmospheric direction, somewhat opposed to the aural pyrotechnics that the Machines tend to explode with; even moreso, I think it’s fairly clear that he wanted to orchestrate more than his singular guitar voice amidst the bombastic din that forms the bread and butter of any great Secret Machines’ song.

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This past Tuesday night, Sarah Williams and the Metro Gallery opened up the Dead Air Video Exhibit (curated by Kristen Anchor of the Degenerettes). The exhibit is essentially an audiovisual eulogy to what was supposed to be the end-date for analog TV broadcasts. The impending switch to digital has largely been delayed due to inefficiency on the part of institutions, corporations and individuals.

Nonetheless, everyone still celebrated with some great music and interesting exhibits including old clips from AtomicTV and various other channels, including a fairly awesome TV stuck in a table and assorted stacks of TVs broadcasting looped TV clips.

Jeff the Taper was also in attendance.  After the jump, check out some photos from the night.  You can also click each performer’s name to skip to the live audio.

Edie Sedgwick

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Andras Frenyo was kind enough to come out to Aural States Fest day 1 and take some awesome panorama shots.  Check ‘em out at his website, Panorama Blog.  In addition to Arbouretum, Andras also cobbled together panoramas for Wye Oak and Imperial China!  

Sweet!

Wye Oak is already posted, and over the next 11 days we’ll be posting the rest of the live audio and tons more coverage from our first annual Aural States Fest! Thanks for coming out!

All photos: Shantel Mitchell

OK, I am sure I am not alone in thinking that this was one of the best shows that I’ve been to in awhile. Not only did this show run so smoothly with both stages in action at all times, but it was also a night filled with some of the best bands from Baltimore and DC. I mean, 12 bands on two club stages over a period of about 6 hours – for only $10 bucks: who could want for more? Well, there was also free coffee (thanks to Zeke’s Coffee in Parkville) and door gifts for those who came early – filled with vinyl, CDs, books, and other goodies (thanks to Soundgarden, Atomic Books and a slew of record labels).

This was the perfect event. If you were there, I am sure you are agreeing with me and if you weren’t, well then you missed an awesome show! Here are my photos from the evening. I was able to get all of the bands but two: Title Tracks and Hollywood (so sorry!). I picked out a few from each band. If you want to check out everything, you can see them here.

Andy Abelow

Andy Abelow, a solo artist who also performs in Small Sur started the evening, featuring accompaniment by Austin and Bob from Small Sur, Caleb Stine, John Varrone and Bethany Dinsick.

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All Photos: Josh Sisk

Dance—some Western creation myths favor a divine utterance rendering the visual (the Logos; Let there be Light!) Other traditions have the world arising from sound. But in the context of this article, one might find it enlightening to consider Shiva Nataraja and his dance of the 108 poses that engendered mortal existence. This belief, popular in Southern India, combines both the visual (dance) and the aural (rhythm) in a powerful synergistic way. Paradoxically, Shiva Nataraja’s swaying cosmic body forms both the Lasya, and the Tandava–the creation of the world, and the destruction of the world. Dance is literally the beginning, and the end. According to this Tamil belief, dance is not just a thing of beauty, or entertainment, but also the primal force of existence.

Why then Puritan America’s generalized abhorrence of dance? Why does dance music, and what follows—dancing to that music—carry such a heavy stigma in this country?

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