Monday, November 22, 2010

Wolf Parade & Ogre You Asshole Tonight at Exit/In

Posted By on Mon, Nov 22, 2010 at 8:51 AM

Wolf Parade and Ogre You Asshole get down on the Rock Block tonight. Here's D.P.R. from this week's Critics' Picks:

Some might say these collaboratin’ Canucks spread themselves a mite thin: Between them, their side projects have included Handsome Furs, Swan Lake, Sunset Rubdown, Frog Eyes and more. But after all their wily ventures, most critics agree that Wolf Parade proves to be their most potent and consistent source of output. This year’s Expo 86 is a more diverse collection than previous full-lengths Apologies to the Queen Mary and At Mt. Zoomer. On top of their typically raw indie-rock urgency (a la Guided by Voices or Modest Mouse), Wolf Parade have thrown in a bit of new-wave nuance: “Ghost Pressure” and “Oh You, Old Thing,” for instance, feature bobbing synth parts that are texturally similar to those of, say, Gary Numan or Thomas Dolby. True, WP perhaps don’t have the hip cultural cache or insider buzz they did back in 2005. But as long as keyboardist/co-frontman Spencer Krug continues to write ambitious post-punk odysseys, and as long as guitarist/co-frontman Dan Boeckner continues to sing like Beck’s angry, garage-rockin’ little brother, Wolf Parade’s releases will have merit, and their shows will have grit. Japanese four-piece and fellow post-punkers Ogre You Asshole appear in support.

That'll run you $15-$20 — take the jump and let's watch some video.

Here's Wolf Parade's space race video for "Yulia," off Expo 86, that we posted link to a while back. (You know, the one that reminded me a little bit of How I Became the Bun Bomb's "Salvage Mission," on account of the Cold War-era cosmonautical headgear and all.

Speaking of Ogre You Asshole, here's a song whose title I can't even cut and paste onto the blog, which I think roughly translates as ... ah hell, I don't know. Google says "Flag," but whatever it is, it's got lots of octave chords, rubbery disco-esque bass and that jaggedancy post-punk feel that Franz Ferdinand put nice slacks on and rode to fame and riches.

For some reason, I think this is the kind of show you wear somewhat pointy-toed shoes to. Can someone back me up on this?

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