At the end of a high energy night at Sync Space, this set by M. Geddes Gengras (also of Pocahaunted, Robedoor, and Talisman fame) was just what the doctor ordered. I have streamed his music on many occasions from the comfort of my home computer, and have always found it to be really beautiful. But when you are listening to this music with three Gchat windows open and an episode of True Blood loading in another tab, a certain amount of the magic is lost. You see, although Ged Gengras seems like a pretty unassuming guy, he is an architect of mood at heart, armed with a moog synth and a fierce sense of composition. The crowd of kids who had hung around after shaking their collective behinds to Warm Climate, Soft Healer, and Sun Araw, now sat on the ground in various stages of blissful calm. It was like we’d all gone back to the kindergarten nap times of our youth. However, this music is not for passive listening; the tones oscillate between effervescent and piercing in a way that requires full-body focus. Plug in your headphones when watching the video above, and let yourself fall into a trance. (more…)
Some songs you like immediately. Others grow on you. Songs like “Surveying Revelations” by Johnston, PA folk group Emmet & Mary do both. Hearing it for the first time one morning shot me out of my half-sleep quicker than any cellphone alarm clock ever could. Bright brass lights up your ears. A cacophony of who-knows-how-many-voices rushes into your brain. True to form, “Surveying Revelations” even slows down a bit before a jarring end. The words that come to your mind are, “Well, that was interesting” — but also, “This is kind of cheesy.” Upon repeated listens, however, you begin to buy into the Microphones-meets-Neutral-Milk folk epic that Emmet & Mary are pedaling. It’s too sweeping — and adorable–to leave you on the fence.
Emmet & Mary, “Surveying Revelations” (Emmet & Mary, My Idea of Fun)
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As much as I’ve come to love the city of Los Angeles, I’d be a liar if I said that a certain amount of my experience here hasn’t been characterized by feelings of displacement and alienation. Sometimes the feeling of being a small, isolated dot on a large map is too much to bear. I felt this feeling quite strongly on July 4th, 2009. I was at a party on Venice beach thrown by a friend of a friend. We went up to the roof deck to watch the fire works that were being set off in Santa Monica.
As a native New Yorker, I’ve grown up with the Macy’s fireworks extravaganza that (usually) happens over the East River. Although there are some entertaining amateur pyrotechnics going on in certain sections of town, it is all about everyone in the city watching the same bright lights for one night. Obviously the bar was set high, so I was pretty let down when I saw how far away — and relatively puny — the Santa Monica display was. A friend turned to me and said, “this sucks.” I couldn’t help but agree.
Sometimes when you’re searching for the “ultimate” experience here in L.A., it is easy to find yourself feeling let down, left out, and turned off. This city is large, fractured, and easy to feel lost in. The feeling of a communal love fest can be found, but it does not come as quickly or easily as in some metropolises.
But feelings of bliss burn strongly when you learn to love this strange place for what it is. I had an extended moment of happiness on July 4th weekend, 2010. After a relaxed BBQ in a Silver Lake backyard, three of us headed for the Elysian Park Hills to try and scope some fireworks from Angel’s point. As we looked over the hills, we didn’t see one centralized fireworks show. Instead we saw a profusion of starbursts, all obviously products of amateur displays being set off from lawns, porches, roofs, and even from the street. The quality varied, but the volume was unreal.
At that point, something kind’ve clicked for me. These fireworks weren’t as sleek as what I was used to in New York, but with each blast I felt a sense of some individual setting it off. From where I was standing, I could see many of these displays, but the intended audience was more likely the people in the immediate vicinity of the person setting them off. There was something magical about imagining these little microcosms and experiencing the collective energy that they gave off on that special evening. We revelled in thus further as we roamed the streets of Echo Park, where you could find someone setting off a blast nearly every 20 feet. My friend Molly joked that it was like a really pretty war.
What I’m getting at here is that every person is capable of having an audience, even if it is a tiny one. Whether its your lover, your best friend, a room of people, or a huge crowd, you’ve got to do your thing for your audience with as much organic enthusiasm as you can. If you keep at it, and make it count, the energy you give off might gradually cause your audience to grow, but even if it doesn’t you’ve got to keep doing it for the people who are already there. Sometimes the search for the “right” place or experience proves futile and you’ve got to start from scratch wherever you are, and create your own environment. This kind’ve approach to life is essential to the LA experience. As these thoughts took over my head, I was brought back momentarily to the previous evening, when I was watching and taping Sun Araw at Synchronicity Space.
I’ve seen Sun Araw many times over the course of the last year. In fact, I’ve probably seen Cameron Stallones & co. more times than any other L.A. band. Sometimes the room is packed, and sometimes there are only around 20 people in attendance. As time has gone on, Sun Araw has continued to gain fans, and almost all of them are quite enthusiastic. There are lots of reasons for this, but one of the main things that gets me excited about Sun Araw is the persistent passion and energy he channels into every recording and every performance — no matter how many people are listening.
The July 3rd show at Sync Space was no exception to this. Those of us who crowded into that small DIY venue that night were treated to a tight, rousing performance that came equipped with highs, lows, and all the things that remind us why we love music. The venue wasn’t huge, but the performance and the vibe it created were. At one point, Cameron thanked the crowd for making the show into a really amazing zone. When you approach your creative output with passion, energy, and rigor, the space around you will become worth spending some time in. You can feel some of that by watching the riveting performance by Cameron and Nick Malkin in the video above. In the mean time, start engineering your own starbursts. (more…)
There is something about the song “Embassy” by Laurel Halo that makes me feel like I am listening to a soundtrack — not necessarily the soundtrack to a film, but the soundtrack to an idealized way of life. The airy synth tones and Halo’s angelic vocals reminds me of getting a back rub after a day of swimming and spa-ing. It almost feels like a play on the zen notion of Utopia, as marketed to Western consumers.
In Josef Kraska’s video for the song, he takes this mood to the next level. We are shown a montage of close-ups of women’s faces. Most of the images look as though they’ve been taken from 1980s television commercials, and the women are prime specimens of the red-lipped, smiling, squeaky clean standard of beauty that was prevalent at that time. These images are quite ephemeral, and it seems we aren’t meant to relate to them. The glowing starbursts, kaleidoscopes, and other geometric shapes that loom over the women’s faces are both beautiful and sinister. They seem to suggest an impending erasure, as if our “heroines” are headed for an ending of the Logan’s Run variety. (more…)
I don’t know anything about Leland — the artist who originally wrote “I’ve Got Some Happiness”– but I do know a few things about L.A.’s Puro Instinct, although I have no idea why they changed their name. Oh well. Let’s talk about what I do know. Puro Instinct’s take on “I’ve Got Some Happiness” is just right, adding a bit of murkiness to the mix with some synthy flourishes and a touch of vocal reverb. But the guitar riffs, bass lines, and solos are all kept relatively intact. The overall outcome is just enough to bring Leland’s summer jam into the 21st century and showcase Puro Instinct’s talent for tight and concise arrangements. It’s 100 degrees, but I’ve got this song and about 5000 BTU’s worth of happiness.
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Words: Marc Picciolo
Puro Instinct’s self-titled EP will be out sometime in July on Gloriette Records. You can stream it now here.
Soft Healer are a band of four from Austin, TX. Before seeing them this past Saturday, my only exposure to their music was a handful of MySpace listens. On record, their sound brings to mind Motown and early ’60s garage rock; it’s tight, danceable, and appealing to lovers of vintage aesthetics. But I have to say that as a live band, Soft Healer are even more intriguing than I’d imagined. In this video, they play a number that transitions from poppy Motown rhythms to spacey Kraut Rock guitar riffs and hauntingly psychedelic recorder tones. The audience erupted into an impassioned dance, and I began to resent the camera I was holding for keeping me from joining in. According to their MySpace, Soft Healer are available for weddings. I’m not planning a wedding any time soon, but the prospect of them serenading on such an occasion is pretty enticing. (more…)
I’ve often wondered what purpose music like Atlanta, Georgia’s Matthew Jackson Johnson — aka Bathcrones — is supposed to serve. Is it dance music? “My Love, Wilma” definitely moves my head ever so slightly up, down, and side-to-side. Is it chill-out music? Sure. I am awake and well-caffeinated, yet these slow and steady synth and keyboard pulses keep me relatively motionless — aside from all the head-bobbing, that is. Johnson and I are around the same age. Perhaps our generation is too lazy to dance ’till the sun comes up, but also too distracted to be totally relaxed. No matter: this song is a well-crafted piece of subtle electronica. Sit and bob your head to your heart’s content.
Bathcrones, “My Love, Wilma” (Psychorama, No Pain in Pop)
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Live, Brooklyn electronic duo Blondes bob their heads an awful lot. Sam Haar and Zachary Steinman always seem like they’re jamming their way into an invitation to dance — and this can either make us move or give us pause. Touched, their debut EP, may showcase some painstakingly “definitive” versions of these late-night autobahn rides to nowhere. But the approach remains pretty much the same: drawing equally on experimental minimalism, Acid House, and ‘70s Kosmiche, Blondes whisper electronic ribbons and female vocal flourishes into repetitive base motifs until they blossom like synthetic Chiapets and light up the night. The result is true intelligent dance music — one that thinks before it speaks.
Blondes, “You Mean So Much To Me” (Touched EP, Merok)
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Sigh. There is perhaps no better metaphor for growing up — and more fitting for this tenderest of odes to Julian Lynch’s home state — than a young child discovering the most exquisite creature he has ever seen, then realizing he may have had a hand in wounding it. Stephanie Wuertz’ video is the thought that makes the grass in your parents’ backyard smell a little more bitter than sweet — the repressed horror of the time you crushed on your first lady bug without wanting to, cloaked in the uncertain costume of a dream. (more…)
Tom Krell calls his murky, lo-fi recording project “How to Dress Well.” So obviously when I saw that the cover art for his new Ready for the World seven inch featured a naked woman, I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. But maybe that’s the point. “Ready For the World” is not dressed well or gussied up; in fact, it’s unassuming and minimal in the best way possible, demanding your attention without you even knowing how. Some characterize How to Dress Well’s sound as “lo-fi R&B”; I suppose that’s a fair assessment, but it feels as if music like this should be described in simpler terms. “Ready For the World” is bare and spacious — just like the woman on the cover and the woods she’s standing in.
How to Dress Well, “Ready For the World” (Ready For the World 7″, Lefse Records)
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