Earlier this week I stood about two feet from a real-life genius and I almost passed out. OK, well not really, but seeing the incredible Tim Burton walk into the screening room at the Museum of Modern Art felt like Christmas morning.
Burton, who is tons more handsome in person and quite healthy-looking, was there to discuss his retrospective exhibition at the MoMa opening in November. The show will have an extensive look at Burton’s sketches, photographs, puppets, movie clips, etc, including one that we screened titled Hansel and Gretelthat aired only once on the Disney Chanel due to its graphic nature, and another black and white film starring Burton himself in Doctor Doom.
1) I’ve never seen No Doubt live, even though it was my favorite band from 1995-2002 If … I had seen a lot of No Doubt shows in my youth, I would probably not have been as blown away by Gwen Stefani and company. The venue wasn’t gigantic; it housed thousands, but it wasn’t an arena. But we were seven rows away, and I could see her sweat glistening off her abs, the fake lashes, the hulking skulking way she danced around the stage. Although she opened the set with a bum microphone (they had to switch mics THREE TIMES during “Spiderwebs,” we didn’t hear anything until the chorus! WTF?) I was transported to my 15-year-old self again, waiting for No Doubt videos to come on MTV.
2) I watch a lot of shows — maybe two or three a week. If… I didn’t watch so many concerts as a music journalist, I would probably not have had a good point of comparison for No Doubt. As it was, I was totally blown away by the production value of No Doubt’s set. The visuals were created with After-Effects. The lighting was impeccable. The sound was full. The whole band looked great — everyone was in black and white outfits, Gwen Stefani had three costume changes. Everyone PERFORMED.
No one was in a dirty shirt, no one was looking to the ground while playing guitar. Tony Kanal jumped four feet into the air while playing bass, and still connected with the audience. I had forgotten what it was like to watch a really good, produced show — watching someone with money to spend on lights, clothes and sound makes for a really entertaining experience. I love watching a show that’s light years away from what a recorded album feels like, and the difference between a regular concert and a show like Monday’s No Doubt show is like the difference between going to Disneyland and going on rides at a county fair.
3) I have no qualms about going to reunion shows of bands I love. If … I were a purist, I would avoid reunion tours because of the bands’ motivation. Whether or not a band is performing because they need money, even to an audience that they rejected years ago, is irrelevant. I can accept nostalgia acts because I grew up abroad and didn’t have a chance to see any of these great bands before I lived in the States. So whenever I hear that a band that was super important to me — the Police, the Pixies, Smoking Popes — is touring again, I jump at the chance to see them. “Tragic Kingdom” was my 1995 soundtrack. When I started dating my first real boyfriend, we broke up and got back together constantly — so much so that he appropriated “Ex-Girlfriend” and called it my song. In 2002, my father, my sister, my brother and I went on a road trip around North Luzon; we listened to No Doubt’s “Rock Steady” and Bob Marley’s “Legend”constantly because it was our only musical middle ground. After my father passed away, I stopped listening to “Rock Steady,” because it would always make me sad.
So is No Doubt relevant in my life RIGHT NOW? Maybe not. But does it mean I love them any less? Not at all.
4. I love watching shows in big cities. If… I weren’t in a great big metropolitan area, I wouldn’t have seen Shirley Manson, Garbage’s lead singer, sing “Stand and Deliver” with No Doubt. In LA they can pull out various celebrities at concerts, giving it that extra ooomph. When Shirley Manson came out (braless, natch), the hairs on both my arms stood up and my friends and I couldn’t stop screaming. Oh. My. God.
I walked out of the Gibson Amphitheatre (formerly Universal) exhilarated, with my ears ringing and a pulled calf muscle from jumping around so much. We had boss seats (thanks Annette!) I can’t remember the last show I enjoyed this much. Well, maybe Phish — but only because it was surprisingly fun. But that’s another blog entry.
Carrie Brownstien (Sleater-Kinney) commented in her NPR music blog, Monitor Mix, that Weezer is a novelty band. Though I’m hard-pressed to really argue with her on this point, there’s a particular line that irked me:
I don’t know if Weezer hates its fans or just the (apparently) stifling concept of sincerity, but you should listen to these two new songs if you weren’t already convinced of Weezer’s contempt for music.
Ouch. I would rephrase that line to read as such:
Weezer hates sincerity, but you should listen to these two new songs to hear Weezer’s contempt for their fans.
There. That looks better. First-off, I am not a diehard Weezer fan but I think they get a bad rap. I would certainly slam a TON of other musicians before criticizing Weezer about being a novelty act — like, perhaps any adult/contemporary “rocker” and nearly all modern country? How about U2 for christsake?! Oh, and aren’t Elton John & Billy Joel touring the country this summer?! Sure, the last few incarnations of Weezer have sounded like a Weezer cover band, but at least they took a STAB at sincerity at one point.
It seems obvious to me that in between Weezer’s second and third albums — Pinkerton and The Green Album, a lot changed. And the change was not just the the loss of Matt Sharp.
Blue Album era Cuomo (L) & Sharp (R)
In 1996 Weezer released Pinkerton — a painfully funny, slightly abrasive, endearing and self-reflective album. It was certainly a “difficult” album by pop standards, especially being their followup to a delightfully sugarcoated Ric Ocasek-produced initial album.
Cuomo poured his heart out, his vocals were raw and the content was much more personal than anything on the Blue debut. The album was slow out of the gate due to some legal problems and never gained footing. It peaked at #19 on the Billboard charts and was initially met with both critical and public indifference. Weezer had dropped a smart, self-effacing, confessional album and the U.S. didn’t care. It was like we pushed Rivers to open up to us and then we were all “Uhhhh, T.M.I., dude.”
It seems from that point on Cuomo pledged never to write anything sincere again.
Even though, in the past 18+ years, Pinkerton has gained considerable adoration the damage had been done. Rivers/Weezer had gone into hiatus, emerging four years later as a shell of itself — vying to ride high on pop hooks and metal riffs and refusing to ever, EVER write anything serious ever again. The guitar licks were spic-and-span, production gleaming, lyrics memorable but completely meaningless. ‘Safer that way.
So is Weezer a novetly band? Maybe. But, my answer would be “So?”. Aren’t most bands? Why criticize a band that tried to be sincere only to be told, quite clearly, by the fans and press, “play like you’re empty inside or risk not having an audience.”
I’m still in Squaw Valley, post-Wanderlust, and already I’m prepping to watch No Doubt at the Universal Amphitheater tomorrow. They’re doing six hometown dates (two in LA, four in Irvine). I’m driving 10 hours to see the band I loved the most, 1995-2002. And I. Can’t. Wait.
Basically all this means is that I won’t be posting any Wanderlust — or Amanda Palmer singing ukelele in her underwear photos — until Tuesday. C’est tout.
As is the pervading theme of these little festival reports…
I can confirm: 2009’s Pitchfork Music Festival occurred.
If you do not believe my accounts, I have also embedded photos which not only prove that the festival took place but also that I was in attendance.
Good. *dusts self off*. So. What is the point of this post then? To inform you of bands you’ve never heard of? Possibly, but not likely as most Pitchfork bands get considerable coverage from the curator and the surrounding “blogosphere”. Most other blogs are probably better resources than BemBang, less typos too.
So what’s left is the telling of my personal, limited experience of this year’s fest replete with ogling hulahoop girls, Port-a-Potty waits, obstructed sight lines, and the momentary feeling I had about how festivals, live music, and everyone around me actually sucks. This occurred about two hours into my time at the fest but quickly subsided. Nevertheless, I was determined to have a great time on Sunday, and hey guess what, I did.
Hello There! (photo stolen from Midwasteland)
On a highly superficial note, I was very disappointed by the style this year. I, myself, am NOT fashion-forward but I LOVE to see what people are sporting every year. Pitchfork in the past has been a Mecca for trend-spotting as much as it’s been a music festival. Maybe because it was rainy, I don’t know, but people were not dressed to impress — the spirit just wasn’t there this year, and I’m relieved I wasn’t the only one to feel this way. I saw muted colors, I saw an abundance of flannel and just a smattering of the nu-grunge trend we all know is coming way too fast. I saw very little florescent hi-tops and other assorted b-boy nostalgia (thank god). I saw plenty of diving v-necks like last year, high waisted jeans (no surprise there), tights-as-pants (psst, still not cool), and Wayfarers. But what’s NEW!? C’mon! I could’ve guessed all that stuff and not even gone!
I digress.
First up. The Thermals were awesome. They rocked through a great set. The mix, which can sometime be muddled and echo-y on Stage A was crisp with bassist (and part-time Summer Fun Girl) Kathy Foster bobbing and weaving along to the rhythm section while Hutch Harris’ powerchords pierced the overcast day. Not sure how much of it was irony (and at this fest there’s plenty) but their covers of Nirvana and Dookie-era Green Day were right-the-fuck-on, and very fun.
Next up –The Walkmen. People love the Walkmen. I want to love the Walkmen. It didn’t take. Something about their show just made me very impatient. Maybe cuz my back was sore. The Walkmen came in waves. Hamilton Leithauser’s voice swellled and strained in an emotional crescendo during standout “Canadian Girl”, and the band dotted the show with a well-received brass section and wood block percussion, but they put on a more or less languid performance between highlights.
During one such lull I briefly wondered why I wasn’t enjoying myself. I then began to doubt my own abilities to appreciate live music. I feared I had reached that stage of jaded sagacity which professional music appreciators always feign to have. The one where everything sounds like a derivative of something else, and every band sounded better when no one else had heard of them yet. It was scary. It was a brief crisis of conscious that I quickly recovered from because I needed to get a Goose Island before M83 started…
As a little intro, we thought it’d be cool for the three of us to talk about what song we feel best fits our little towns. Read Brian’s here and Araceli’s here.
Because I have lived mostly in Southern California, and just recently in Los Angeles, most of my songs of ‘home’ are about California. Joni Mitchell’s “California” has always been my favorite, and Phantom Planet’s “California” reminds me of the period in my life when I was new to Orange County, and “The OC” was new to Fox.
But this is a blog entry about Los Angeles. Sometimes all you see is a sprawling gray wasteland of freeways, traffic crawling at 5 miles an hour. Sometimes your vision is blocked by a hot black vinyl miniskirts topped by a hot pink wigs biking around Hollywood. Other times there are gigantic houses in the hills of Pasadena, and others there’s nothing but the sound of the surf crashing onto Santa Monica, or Venice. There’s Little Tokyo, Olvera St., Chinatown and the Hollywood Bowl. The Getty, the LACMA, the hidden art galleries of Silverlake, the studios and theaters in Culver City. There’s so much to LA that it’s a constant stimulant; you either love it or hate it, but there is no indifference; it’s undeniable.
Maybe that’s why the three songs I love most about LA are about despair, disgust and destruction. It’s a paradox, just like the city. Oh, and ironically, two out of three of these songwriters are from Seattle — they write about Los Angeles because they’re jealous of the constant, sunny blue skies!!! Bad Religion is from Orange County though, and Greg teaches at UCLA, so that’s cool.
p.s. Whenever Death Cab plays “Why’d You Want to Live Here” in LA, the crowd always goes wild, like it’s a love song Ben Gibbard is singing to them (I saw this happen at the Greek and at the Wiltern). See? Everyone else here gets it too.
As a little intro, we thought it’d be cool for the three of us to talk about what song we feel best fits our little towns. Araceli, for NY, has chosen the illustrious rat packer himself, Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” as a befitting jewel of a song for the Big Apple. (Does anyone call it that anymore?)
So, yeah. Araceli chose a song BY a New Yorker ABOUT a New Yorker, so now I’ll do the same for Chicago. There’s a few tempting choices:
I could easily go the Wilco route and say “Via Chicago,” but if you’re listening to that song you’ll quickly figure out it has very little to do with Chicago.
I’m a big fan of “Slow Down Chicago” by Canasta but that really doesn’t SAY that much about the city that it doesn’t say about every metropolis — it’s busy.
Gil Scott-Heron’s “Home is Where the Hatred Is,” is tough not to choose. Scott-Heron not only is a soul icon, hip-hop progenator, poet, author, and freedom fighter, but was also born in Chicago proper (though raised in Tennesse). The same song was sampled more recently by another icon raised by accomplished southside civic leaders — Kanye West’s “My Way Home” from the Late Registration LP samples it exclusively.
Paper Lace’s “The Night Chicago Died” is a hilarious song. And quite a re-telling of a riot during Al Capone’s bootlegging days… unfortunately it was written by four guys from Nottingham UK that have no idea what they’re talking about. E.G., starting the song, “Daddy was a cop / on the east side of Chicago” (Psst, the east side wold be a lake). Also adding to its Chicago lore – in the movie High Fidelity, Barry (Jack Black) adds it to his Top 5 Songs About Death: A Laura’s Dad Tribute List. He ad libs some new lyrics though… “The night Laura’s daddy died. Sha na na na na na na na na! Brother what a night it really was. Mother what a night it really… angina’s tough! Glory be!”
Though Scott-Heron would be, like, the “well-informed” one to pick, I have to go with one I’ve always loved forever and ever. That’s Aliotta, Haynes and Jeremiah’s “Lake Shore Drive”
It’s a beautiful piece of music with a wonderful shambling piano part, a road-tripping feel and some great lyrics. They lyrics not only recall some vibrant nostalgic drives, but also drops some references that show the artist was certainly familiar and fond of Chicago, even if the band was from West Allis, WI.
It was not until recently, when I heard this song again, that I realized it was also a road tripping song. AH&D may have just been using my favorite road in Cook County as a thinly-veiled drug reference… “Just slippin’ on by on LSD, Friday night trouble-bound…” is just one of the many acid references in the song , most of which are equally unclever. Regardless, it’s still a really pretty song. Enjoy! (Along with some shoddy photography):
Lilledeshan: we should have our photos beside our posts. that way brian can hook readers like araceli into raising our profile
Araceli: no way. oh you wanna be like perez?
Lilledeshan: perez hilton, musical tastemaker
Araceli: i dont want people to know what i look like…my biggest fear is being a recognizable celeb
Brian: ha. you’re fist [sic] problem is BEING a celeb
Lilledeshan: why are you guys still at work? i’m going to do my city post
after i give away this free lou barlow song
Araceli: brian, you think i cant be a celeb?
Brian: oh, you can. But you can worry about being recognized later
Araceli: damn this biy [sic] is out of contorl [sic]. look i cant even spell! thats how angry i am. haha…whateves… lille is the one that wants to be famous
Lilledeshan: ya. i keep getting pre-empted. right before i get REALLY big. some stupid shit happens
Despite ye Gods trying to prevent me from going, I DID make it down to Pitchfork on Saturday after an EL detour, miles-long walk, and then forgetting my tickets back up north. The challenges did not stop there.
On the stage was DOOM(previously MF Doom). The limber linquist already had his work cut out for him on Saturday. A long line of Union Park hip-hop performers had already set the precedent: Hip-Hop acts at Intonation/Pitchfork do not do so well. Aside from Public Enemy’s stellar set last year, Clipse, Ghostface and De La Soul all seemed put-out by the festivals lack of crowd enthusiasm. What made DOOM different was that he didn’t seem to need or want crowd participation to put on a good show… he simply powered through. Disguised, as always, in a silver villain’s mask, DOOM’s lazy but deceivingly limber voice rolled through head-scratching couplets at a confounding rate. The rhymes switched rhythm and pace so often that watching DOOM fans sing along to their favorite lines was like watching them try to quote their favorite movie in fast-forward.
DOOM
Next up was eastern European tinged folk-rockers Beirut. Helmed by Zach Condon, the troupe plays fairly straight-ahead American folk music but adds on ukulele, horns, tuba, accordions and a voice that is distinctly… Old World. Where in the Old World, who the hell knows, but it feels European to us state-siders that wouldn”t know the difference anyway. The sound was very nice, and crowd favorites like the wonderfully arranged “Elephant Gun” and “Postcards from Italy” transitioned very well into the live venue. The only downside was that the music was a bit plodding. This is completely understandable given their m.o., but in a festival setting most people think, “If I’m going to be standing, I may as well be moving,” which explains the gradual (gypsy like?!) flow away from Beirut and towards Matt & Kim.
Matt & Kim at Pitchfork (Photo from Twitpic account: Michaelgoneil
Matt & Kim were, as expected, pre-pubecently giddy and dropping f-bombs left and right for added sincerity points. If you need to know anything about this duo it’s that they’re a boy/girl keyboard/drum duo that excel in their live performance, and what they lack in chord progressions they more make up for in enthusiasm. Their performance on the Balance Stage, which they proudly claimed to be their largest ever, did not disappoint. There were fist-pumpers, crowd surfers, and full waterbottle-throwers galore. Matt’s keyboard got kicked unplugged. (BUT WHO CARES!?!?! WE USED TO PLAY IN BASEMENTZ!!!@!#!!). It was an uprorious shout-along set and I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about defecting from the Balkan stage. Unfortunately, as it’s evident the VIP/Press backstage fences have swelled even further into the paying crowd’s space this year, I had no sight of the band from far stage right, and thusly no fun photos. But you have to LOVE this Twitpic from Michaelgoneil that M&K retweeted… (Kim’s on the right).
Looking over the crowd on a splendidly cool Sunday night at the 2009 Pitchfork Music Festival I’m both exhilarated and conflicted. Here, in a park in the middle of the midwest, are musicians from all over the globe performing to an equally diverse(ish) audience. We gush over each other in a glorious cycle of mutual admiration.
It’s a festival that’s curated for the particular, not the universal. It’s a fest for THIS weekend THIS year, and never to be carbon-copied and rebranded, C3-style, in as many DMA markets as possible this summer. It’s a great experience. Now… what to take a picture of?
Ahhh, music in the age of blogging — when everyone’s a journalist whether they have credentials or not, and when a festivalgoer’s camera is just as likely to point towards the crowd (or towards themselves) as it is to the band on stage. When it seems fans must decide what’s most important: being there, or showing others that you were there. Or further still… how close were you? Did you have an all-access lanyard? How much better was the food in the press tent than in the the park? What celebs were there? What secret show did you make it to and how little did you have to pay?
All these things are secondary to the actual festival, but as we’ve seen since the rise of “indie movies” in the 90s with the Sundance Film Festival (and now increasingly so at SXSW and Cochella music fests), the frills are what make the fest… the frosting is what makes the cake. The cake was good this year. The frosting? Well, it looked good from where I was standing, but you’ll have to ask someone else.
