The Spin
Bloc Tease Kele Okereke of Bloc Party. photo: Steve Cross
Tweens! Math rock! Brits! Psych folk!
The Spin loves cute things—fuzzy bunnies, fluffy kitties, Haley Joel Osment back when he still saw dead people, all of it. That’s why we hate to bash on the pajama-party trio of SMOOSH, three tweenage girls who, by placing the middle sister on drums instead of a parent, ace out Raconteurs openers The Muldoons for the title of youngest group to have played City Hall. But being adorable can only carry you so far, and by the third or fourth number of pianist and vocalist AYSA banging out the same chords over and over we were ready for that part of the talent show to be over. Sadly, it was only halfway through the set, although the frenzied ponytail flipping of drummer CHLOE remained oddly mesmerizing. Midliners Deerhoof could not have provided a sharper contrast—a sophisticated whirlwind of skin-bashing from drummer GREG SAUNIER, freeform guitar from JOHN DIETERICH and quirky vocals and hand signals from bassist and singer SATOMI MATSUZAKI. Deiterich came to the mic to thank Smoosh, Bloc Party and “most importantly, what can only be expressed in a single three-letter word—you.” Awww, let’s go out for a soda after the show! They were perhaps better suited for the ANIMAL COLLECTIVE show at the Cannery than the dancey pop of BLOC PARTY, who were greeted with much fanfare from the adoring crowd—goodwill that they then proceeded to strain through several slow-building songs. What we saw of their set showcased some incredibly taut playing and the barely contained energy of a cougar preparing to pounce, but it seemed almost sadistic to frontload the set with songs that made everybody in the crowd hold their breath for so long. Anticipating an orgiastic explosion of danceable guitar pop, we kept thinking, “wait for it...wait for it...” Maybe “it” came later, but if it did, we were already at the Animal Collective show. By the time we got there, we’d already missed the experimental lo-fi wonderland of TICKLEY FEATHER, but AC were onstage and rocking their thrilling schizo-pop. It was a trance-inducing jolt of white heat and hypnotic blasts. We got a lucky break of an offer and got to watch the show from stageside, which, for a band like this, makes all the difference. The set was Strawberry Jam-heavy, and produced the sort of droning, songs-endlessly-folding-into-one-another vibe that kept us transfixed and a little giddy as we watched the trio tweak and fiddle and yelp in abrasive bursts of gleeful, skittish pop. It was hard to separate the songs out, but occasionally you’d recognize the falsetto opener and rubber bandy thrum of “Fireworks” or the psychedelic bleeps of “#1.” The venue wasn’t nearly as full as you’d hope, but no fuller than you’d expect for a pop band who travels so bravely off the script.
Kick Out the Jam Animal Collective. photo: Stephen Boatright
Oddly ripping
Last in a week’s worth of big shows, the lead-up of high-profile events to Friday night’s show at the Mercy Lounge seemed to hurt attendance. Regardless, as part of a small, lucky crowd, we caught the opening set by L.A. upstarts NO AGE, who didn’t disappoint. After we listened to their latest offering, Weirdo Rippers, on repeat most of that afternoon, the duo delivered on our high expectations. One part garage-punk, another part electronic fuckery, No Age’s sonic exploration also brings the hooks. Though the crowd was small, the majority huddled close to the stage and enthusiastically approved each jam. As a result, an open invitation was extended via the band—Nashvillians are welcome to come hang out in L.A. anytime. Whether you want to kick it where Lindsay Lohan does coke or maybe just hang out and eat pasta, the band’s down for either. They’ll play with your band, too. DEERHUNTER weren’t quite as fulfilling. As good as Cryptograms is, the songs blur together live. The raw energy we had been promised was largely absent. (The band arrived late, missed sound check and played for a smaller-than-expected crowd—maybe they just weren’t feelin’ it.) Recently departed guitarist COLIN MEE has apparently been replaced, freeing singer BRADFORD COX to again focus on looping, cavernous vocals. But the problem with the Deerhunter set was that everything looped and echoed, and then swelled and faded. The waves of sound that washed over the room and recessed only to gather again were effective, but we were hoping this pony had more than one trick.
Truckin’ Muckle
It was a good weekend to be a fan of a certain kind of music in Middle Tennessee—but let’s not call it Southern rock, and let’s definitely not call it alt-country. Between Thursday night’s DRIVE-BY TRUCKERS show and the weekend’s Mucklewain festivities, there was plenty of rock and plenty of twang to be had around these parts. The Truckers brought their “Dirt Underneath Tour” through town—a chance for them to turn down the volume and retrieve some old gems from their more twang-tastic history with an acoustic show. Songs such as “Bulldozers and Dirt” and “Panties in Your Purse” were finally given their proper due, while barnstormers “Sinkhole” and “Nine Bullet” benefited from the reinterpretation. We’re not gonna say we didn’t miss the chance to hear Jason Isbell’s “Outfit” or “Goddamn Lonely Love,” but PATTERSON HOOD (who was struggling with a sore throat all night) and MIKE COOLEY did just fine trading off lead.
Friday evening at MUCKLEWAIN dawned cold, and got colder. What is this? September? Fortunately, there was plenty of hot rock and corndogs to warm everyone up. It didn’t hurt that this was, bar none, the best sounding live outdoor show we have ever heard. Highlights from the two evenings we spent out in Pinewood, Tenn.: LUCERO’s crisp, invigorating set, GLOSSARY—featuring MATT ROWLAND on keys—showcasing their top-notch songwriting and stuck-in-your head guitar lines, an intoxicated CORY BRANAN rampaging his way through the most dynamic, entertaining set we have ever heard him play and former Trucker JASON ISBELL filling that ol’ tobacco field with glorious noise on Saturday night—we not only got to hear “Outfit” and “Goddamn Lonely Love,” but a pretty killer cover of “Psycho Killer” too.
This one goes out to Porter Hall Tennessee. Send your love or e-coupons to thespin@nashvillescene.com.
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|