LIVE

grizzly bear by DAVE McCOUBREY MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS, BOSTON - FEBRUARY 2, 2007 MELISMAreviews

A band name can belie the sound that a group or individual produces. Take the band Destroyer, for instance. For people not well-versed in hyper-literate cathartic chamber-pop, they might, justifiably, think Destroyer is a grindcore band, with album titles like Abortion Squad or maybe, quite powerfully, Cockripper. In indie rock, as opposed to, say, death metal, band names don’t necessarily need to alert the listener to the nature of the sound contained within an album. Bands like ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, while at times aggressive and raucous, don’t nearly approach the blood-chugging, eye-gouging sound of Cannibal Corpse or Mangled. And Thank God for that. This is part of the charm of indie rock: as opposed to more mainstream, radio-friendly pop, or even metal and hip-hop, an individual or band can have whatever name they choose; there are no parameters for choosing a moniker. This makes naming a band fun and enigmatic. Hence, Destroyer. Other genres are limiting, mainly because, in a mass-marketing scheme, bands are sold as product, and their sound needs to be easily recognizable via their name. Hence, The Dixie Chicks. And, of course, there’s always the other end of the spectrum; calling yourself Disembowelment alerts death thrash-heads that, hey, we’re with you. No guess work there.

Grizzly Bear is another example of a band name that, perhaps, misrepresents the sound behind it. I mean, Christ, the grizzly bear’s scientific name has the word “horribilis” in it. I’m not a zoologist, but I’m fairly certain that’s Latin for “totally fucking terrifying and thirsty for camper blood.” One might expect this four-piece from Brooklyn-by-way-of-Massachusetts to sound like they could ravage a listener and leave him screaming for Ranger Rick to come save him. Not so! Instead, on their mostly-overlooked 2004 debut Horn of Plenty and their hipster-approved 2006 effort Yellow House, Grizzly Bear creates atmospheric, elaborate and intimate songs that rely heavily on complex, gorgeous melodies, effects pedals galore and strategic use of the banjo, flute and marimba. And all without sounding like total pussies. With Yellow House being one of the most pleasant surprises of 2006, I bought tickets to see the band play at the Museum of Fine Arts on February 2. Last April, I unfortunately missed the collage-art experimental rock of The Books, but for me, Grizzly Bear, at least on record, seems like the next best thing for the MFA. Their music begs to be played in front of a sophisticated audience, one that would appreciate their ambient droning and knack for Beach Boys-esque melody like they would appreciate a room full of abstract impressionist paintings.

I didn’t quite realize how polite the folks at the MFA were going to force us to be, though. The show was held in a medium-sized auditorium, complete with a smallish stage and strange bronze cherubs pinned to the walls in various poses. When I arrived with my girlfriend and her friend, everyone was seated in stadium-style seats, chatting softly, waiting for the band to come on, with the lights pleasingly dimmed. This prompted my girlfriend’s friend to comment caustically, “I feel like I’m at a high school production of Annie -- except instead of parents there are hipsters.” Later, singer/songwriter Ed Droste would remark, “I feel like you guys should be taking the SATs right now or something.” He was kidding, sure, but there was a sense that some of the charming, freewheeling nature of a rock show was lost, with everyone seated and stationary, unable to dance or flounder or do whatever it is indie kids do. I dunno, maybe sitting down allowed some people to listen to The Microphones on their iPods while listening to Grizzly Bear, because, shit, listening to just one super-layered, textured, melodic underground sensation isn’t enough. We all know that.

Once the show started, though, these initial limitations were forgotten. It was immediately evident that Grizzly Bear sounded incredible. In a live setting, the band’s complex sound came to glorious fruition, as the auditorium was filled to the brim with wave after wave of dreamy, vast and occasionally exuberant rock. They were mesmerizing all night long. By the time “Colorado” rolled around during the second-half of the set, kids were visibly fidgeting in their seats, wishing they could at least stand and sway, as Droste belted out the “What now, what now...” chorus.

The melodies and harmonies that earned Yellow House a spot on many critics’ “Best Of” lists for 2006 were re-created perfectly, and enhanced further by the excellent acoustics in the MFA theater and the fact that the band played so damn loud. Songs like “Knife” and “Fix It” (from Horn of Plenty) were intoxicating in their scope and magnitude. I know it sounds like I’m using lazy hyperboles here, but honestly (and I asked several people what they thought of the show afterwards), the band filled and dominated the small auditorium with their music. Even their sound guy was rocking out. Some other highlights included an ambitious cover of “He Hit Me,” a song from ‘60s R&B group The Crystals, and a new song called “Final Round.” With its thundering floor tom and rollicking guitar, the song was reminiscent of Animal Collective but, at least live, was played much harder and heavier than anything AC has ever done. It was a clever little surprise sandwiched between several murmuring lullabies that left everyone excited at the possibility of a new direction for the band’s sound.

Before playing The Crystals’ song, Droste started to mention something about Phil Spector who had a hand in producing The Crystals. Of course, Spector (aside from killing actresses in fake castles, having horrible haircuts and nurturing a love for cocaine) is famous for his “Wall of Sound” production style, which brought several musicians into the studio, playing some instruments two and three times over themselves to create a full, orchestrated sound booming from the speakers. There perhaps is not a more apt description of the way Grizzly Bear sounded that night - “Wall of Sound,” though, barely does justice to the wealth and gluttony of sonic treats pouring out of their amps. The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere - from the stage, out of the walls and floor, from the ceiling - and when they closed with “On a Neck, On a Spit,” the best song from 2006, period, some kids, no longer content to merely hibernate in their cramped chairs, just had to get out of their seats and dance in the aisles. 

world/inferno by LAURA BERGER AXIS, BOSTON - FEBRUARY 11, 2007 friendship socierty

Attending a World/Inferno Friendship Society show is rather like entering a freak show. You are not quite sure what is going on, or that the people on stage are even a band, until they pick up their instruments and begin to play. Self-described as “circus music,” World/Inferno certainly puts on a theatrical performance.

The members of the band rotate, but the past four times I have seen them, the lineup has remained fairly steady. Jack Terricloth is always the lead vocalist. His unforgettable facial expressions and attire make him the image of the band. Sunday night, February 11 at the Axis, f he was dressed in a pin stripe suit, eye makeup and slicked-back hair. That is not to say that the other members are unimportant or look run-of-the-mill. The entire eight-piece was clad in black, but they were anything but gloomy. Five string bassist Sandra Malak energetically threw her nearly butt-length dreads around as she rocked the stage. Semra Ercin, the percussionist, jumped around and shook her hair every direction throughout the entire show. The World/Inferno Friendship Society’s music, particularly live, is extremely powerful because three of their members - Ercin, Malak, and guitarist Lucky Strano - sing vocals in addition to Terricloth. As a result, the vocals are equally as important as the instruments in their music. Terricloth’s voice is certainly distinct, alternating between raspy, deep and crooning. The band’s stage presence, ability to work any crowd into a frenzy and catchy “circus music” attract an extremely loyal fan base. The Axis show was no exception. Behind the first five rows of fans desperately trying to reach the stage, a large group of dancers enthusiastically enjoyed themselves. While some folks skanked, the majority participated in a form of extreme ballroom dancing that has become synonymous with World/Inferno shows. The disco ball at the Axis reflected purple stage lighting off of the ballroom dancers as Terricloth crooned the infamous but live-only song, “I’m Addicted to Bad Ideas.” The whole scene was larger than life.

As Terricloth began singing the opening lyrics to “The Brother of the Mayor of Bridgewater,” everyone in the front of the room threw their hands in the air. All of a sudden, Terricloth stage dived into the audience, mic in hand, while never missing a beat. He then brought our attention to the three most important things in life: money, drugs and sex. This trio is the key concept of “The Velocity of Love,” one of the standout tracks from their most recent album, Red-Eyed Soul. Unlike most bands that traditionally introduce their songs by announcing the title to the audience, World/Inferno introduced each song with a story. Terricloth’s tales ended with the title or lyrics from the song they were about to play. This added to the bizarre World/Inferno performance. At the sound of the first few chords of “Annie the Imaginary Lawyer,” the crowd started a riot. The last of the triple-whammy of the three most popular World/ Inferno songs was “Only Anarchists are Pretty.” Sometime during this fiasco, one fan got on stage and started singing with Terricloth. Terricloth then jumped into the audience with the fan in tow and they crowd surfed together. This is not out of character for Terricloth. Appearing to have a very intimate relationship with his fans, Terricloth held their hands as they reached out to him. Unfortunately, even amazing sets must come to an end. All the members of the World/Inferno Friendship Society gathered up their instruments and left the stage.

The other three times I’ve seen World/Inferno play they were opening for other acts, including two well known punk bands, the Street Dogs and the Bouncing Souls. As a result of this, they never had a chance to perform an encore. This was not the case at the Axis, however. The crowd went wild, demanding more. We were all chanting, “World Inferno” and clapping our hands in sequence. This moment was undoubtedly a Boston moment stolen from Dropkick Murphys’ shows where similar encore chants are the norm. Our persistence paid off; World/Inferno came back on for an encore and made all the energy worthwhile.

The music started out quiet with Terricloth almost whispering the lyrics to “Me and the Mad Monkettes” as he rubbed against front row audience members in a coy, sexual way. A crescendo began and finally Terricloth yelled, “Spending like a punk rocker on payday/At the monster dogs Christmas parade/Me and The Mad Monkettes we stop and wave.” A small, female audience member jumped on stage and gave Terricloth a bear hug. They certainly appeared to be an odd pair, a five-foot college girl groping a nearing middleage, balding man in a pin stripe suit. But it was just another day at the circus. After a final eye flirt with the audience, the World/Inferno Friendship Society left us in a state of amazement.

“So long to the circus, so long to it all/I have always had a good sense of when it’s time to get gone/When the police are about to arrive, when security steps in/Wave goodbye to the circus…” 

bane

by SHANA HURLEY CAMBRIDGE ELKS LODGE - MARCH 2, 2007 with MAINTAIN, THE GEEKS, AMBITIONS, DOWN TO NOTHING, HAVE HEART MELISMAreviews

Bane performing in Boston is a surprisingly rare occurrence. They are local boys, but generally pick shows in Worcester, which is closer to their hometown and has the sizeable Palladium to house the shows. Additionally, all of the members of Bane are adults whose lives do not have the flexibility of their younger counterparts. Consequently, Bane shows in Boston always have high expectations.

Boston-area band Maintain opened the show. Their first song overwhelmingly reminded me of Inside Out, with riffs highly reminiscent of “No Spiritual Surrender,” sans a considerable degree of technical skill. They tried for the layered melodies made popular by Northwest bands like Sinking Ships while also pumping out Judge-level aggression, powered by a high-energy front man. Most of all, it was great to see a young group of guys filling a coveted slot in a huge show. In Boston, most line-ups are determined by who you know, making it hard for brand new bands to even get opening spots in shows. When most events are Brockton shows, steered by a tight-knit group of Boston kids that look out for their friends, the opportunity for a lesser-known band with no famous ex-members to receive this space was surprising and refreshing.

Second were South Korea’s The Geeks – living proof that Seoul’s got soul! In San Francisco, during the West Coast leg of their tour with Bane, someone broke into their van and stole thousands of dollars of drum equipment, amps, and their bass guitar. The thief also took a laptop, their iPods and a cell phone, as well as clothes and other gear. Furthermore, the band lost items of sentimental importance, invaluable during a life on the road hundreds of thousands of miles from home. Despite the enormous debt they incurred by deciding to tour the United States, which was exponentially exacerbated by the break-in, The Geeks continue to be the most positive band in hardcore. Ki Seok, The Geeks’ singer, insisted that the entire tour was worth their losses if everyone in the crowd were having fun. Earnestly, he shared stories about growing up in streamlined Korean society and the relief hardcore has provided for him, while selfdeprecatingly acknowledging that The Geeks are “the cheesiest band in hardcore.” In a call-and-response fashion, Seok taught the crowd the chorus parts to “Everytime We Fall” and “Let it Fade,” as well as PHOTO: DAN GONYEA

Korean expletives like “Shiiiiiii-ba.” They also amped up the kids by playing two well-chosen covers: Youth of Today’s anthemic “Youth of Today” and Minor Threat’s “Filler.” The Geeks’ incredible sincerity and passion was wholly evident and extremely well received. Integrity, a really meaningful concept in hardcore, is fully realized among these five great guys from Korea.

Ambitions, the fastest growing band in hardcore, fit solidly within this star-studded line-up. Playing emotive, melodic hardcore, Ambitions’ Dag Nasty influence is immediately apparent. As they often voice, the band is pushing the boundaries defining hardcore and going the direction members Jay and Jeff Aust were heading previously with their former project, With Honor, before it went defunct. Being from Connecticut, I didn’t realize that Ambitions aren’t yet nationally known and was surprised that the crowd wasn’t more familiar with them. Kids moved for their Quicksand cover and for the demo tracks available on MySpace, but not for the songs off of 2006’s Question. On the other hand, I am confident that their recent signing to Bridge 9 records and grueling tour schedule will gain them the attention they deserve. Their future Boston shows will be huge.

The aura of the show changed significantly with the next band, Down to Nothing. DTN’s set was skewed heavily toward material from their second full length, Splitting Headache, with a mid-tempo sound that merges the groove of Righteous Jams with the heaviness of Terror, rather than the faster, more Youth Crew-oriented songs from their first LP, Save It for the Birds. One could see that the audience, too, changed; instead of the white sweatshirts and X Swatches of The Geeks’ fanbase, the shirts turned black and the shorts went camo. The dancing became rougher and the kids became tougher – consequently, I became a lot less interested.

Similarly, Have Heart catered their set to the toughness of Boston fans. Beginning their set with a shout out to Down to Nothing, Have Heart kept that tradition of “chugga chugga” alive. Their set, while marked by positive lyrics and sing alongs, consisted entirely of songs from their debut full-length, The Things We Carry. The new album

catalogs their heaviest tracks to date and witnesses the ebbing of their “posi” sound. Have Heart began with the album’s opener, “Life is Hard Enough,” as vocalist Pat Flynn raced back and forth across the stage, only stopping to let kids grab the microphone for a few words. As the band launched into a cover of the Youth of Today classic “Slow Down,” the Elks experienced pile-ons of legendary proportions. Have Heart’s set was the first appearance of a sing-along crowd large enough for near constant, stage-dive gymnastics. As the pit was pushed farther back on the floor, kids crowded the front of the stage for acrobatics and finger pointing.

Yet, the enthusiasm and stage antics for Have Heart did not match a quarter of the energy Bane brought to the Elks. Opening their set with Give Blood’s powerful first track, “Speechless,” Bane began with a jolt that powered the rest of their set. Immediately, the Elks became a circus, with stage dives and headwalking everywhere. The second song was “Swan Song,” the emotional last track from The Note. During its melodic bridge, guitarist Aaron Dalbec weaved skillful improvisation before the crowd exploded into a chorus of “When Armageddon’s

 : WITH MEANINGFUL AND EMOTIONAL SPEECHES THAT DEFINE THE SPIRITUALISM OF BANE SHOWS, BEDARD IS WELL-KNOWN AS THE PASTOR OF THE HARDCORE SCENE.

been locked and loaded, I will come back for you.” Singer Aaron Bedard matched songs about the emotional value of hardcore, like “My Therapy” and “Every Effort Made,” with heartfelt explanations of the songs and personal narratives. Movingly, before launching into “Pot Committed,” Bedard toasted The Geeks for the hardships they’d been through on tour and in South Korea, and for the positive attitude that they effuse. With meaningful and emotional speeches that define the spiritualism of Bane shows, Bedard is well-known for his capacity as the pastor of the hardcore scene. Fueled by the energy of the show and the hometown crowd in Boston, Bedard’s speeches were as powerful as ever. And as he sang such personal songs as “Ante Up” and “The Big Gun Down,” there permeated a sense of empathy and shared experience. Bedard sings in “Ante Up,” “Things they really aren’t so bad and I have never known much about silver lining.” As such, Bane sets are the perfect reminder that youthful angst has a home in “these four walls.”

As they plowed through the rest of their set, Bane’s uniting influence was clear. Hardcore shows are notorious for their lack of diversity. Still, Bane brought out a stunning mix of ages, races and plenty of women. Whenever someone fell, others would scoop him up immediately. The show took on the quality Bedard describes in “Can We Start Again?” when he relays, “Open minds and open hearts/the things that set us apart.” While the band closed “Can We Start Again?” the chorus of kids overpowered the sound of the band. It was a quint-

PHOTOS: DAN GONYEA

essential Bane experience, which many 15-year-olds in the audience were experiencing for the first time. It created the camaraderie that defines hardcore for so many kids that have passed through the scene during Bane’s ten-year lifespan. Unlike the bands that use violence and cliques to divide and dichotomize the scene, there were no fights during Bane’s set. Grown boys hugged. Seeing Bane is, as they say, almost a spiritual experience. 

; Shana Hurleyhana Hurley is a freshman with way too much on her plate. She has a really rad dry-erase board that makes her look as popular as the prom queen. Besides looking to hold weekly crucial mosh parties in her Hodgdon dingle, she aspires to turn Melisma into the Bane Weekly. Just look at her go.

man man with PIT-ER-PAT, STEPHONIK AND THE BRIGHTSIDE, MATTEAH BAIM by PETE MILLAR FIRST UNITARIAN CHURCH, PHILADELPHIA - JANUARY 12, 2007 MELISMAreviews

Philadelphia. No other city brings to mind such a sacred love between man and man. Wait, not that kind of love; brotherly love, the kind found in bonding over a frosty brew, a curbside steak or talk of a football franchise perpetually flirting with any legitimate evidence of success. So, it only makes sense that the city’s premiere experimental indie-rock quintet sports the deceptively homoerotic moniker “Man Man.” I mean, come on! Just look at all that facial hair!

Tonight it was these very hometown boys to whom the First Unitarian Church and the drunken collective of Philadelphians opened their doors and flailing arms, respectively. Despite two devastating blows to the local morale - the departure of the 20-year-old, non-profit gallery, Vox Populi, from the city’s music scene as well as that of the Eagles from the NFL playoffs - this was to be a night of triumph. Honus Honus, Pow Pow, Chang Wang, Sergei Sogay, and Alejandro “Cougar” Bjorg were finally returning home to rest their weary moustaches after an epic stint on the road in promotion of their most recent album, Six Demon Bag, on Ace Fu Records. A representative cross-section of the Philly underground came out for the “welcome home” party. Ambassadors were present on behalf of all classes of hip, from the flannel-and-glasses-clad indie elite, to the “hoodsters” who simultaneously donned American Apparel and Fightin’ Phils fitted caps, all the way down to a chubby pubescent in a ratty, sweat-stained Bartman tee. The Mardi Gras atmosphere was reinforced by the evening’s costumed guests. A troupe of cane-wielding, acid-tripping performance mimes awkwardly mingled with the crowd while a Chang Wang doppelganger captured all the boisterous proceedings on videotape.

Matteah Baim brought the show to bizarre commencement with an a cappella rendition of the Transformers theme song. They continued with bland, atmospheric strumming which served as background noise to the anticipatory conversations of the audience. Just as the rhythm section finally kicked in, proving that they were in fact “more than meets the eye,” Matteah Baim finished their set and made way for act number two.

Stephonik opened their set by claiming to be performing live for the first time. Their subsequent blatant theatrics quickly disproved this comment. The singer paraded around the stage in homage to Karen O, with jet-black bangs, buckteeth and a banshee wail that nearly drowned out the generic, toe-tapping rhythm section and the frenetic noodling of the guitarist, a hip version of Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite. In the set’s finale, “Heart Guides,” she pulled out the ace from her sleeve of clichéd crowd-pleaser antics, a heart-shaped “As Seen On TV” TapLight. Bravo, trashy Yeah Yeah Yeahs wannabes, bravo. By the time Pit-Er-Pat took the stage, the audience was growing restless. It was already approaching 11 o’clock and the crowd wanted to see Man Man bring the ruckus while they were still drunk enough to dance along. This, however, was not what the marathon concert’s third act came to offer. Instead, Pit-Er-Pat did their best to perform smooth, calculated grooves, à la Blonde Redhead. A stuttering, jazzy rhythm section kept pace beneath hypnotic organ and synthesizer. Unfortunately, I was constantly distracted from their set thanks to my overweight, middle-aged neighbors, who were attempting to freestyle their own lyrics, then cackling with delight at their botched efforts. With the end of their set, the audience was clapping more for Pit-Er-Pat’s departure from the stage than for anything musical they had accomplished upon it, which was a shame since I thought they were the most satisfying of all the opening acts.

Having seen Man Man twice before, there were certain spectacles I had 36

come to expect of their live show: a deafening shout of “Get the fuck out of my house!” from the audience during “Engwish Bwudd,” choreographed leaps from Pow Pow and Honus Honus at the climax of “Push the Eagle’s Stomach” and on special occasions, double-saxophone squealing from Chang Wang. Pleasantly, the boys delivered all this insanity with a few surprises, to boot. If seeing the band take the stage decked out in their all-white, do-it-yourself uniforms wasn’t enough to whip the audience into a frenzied sea of excitement, then the opening chords of “Feathers” certainly were. And just like that, Man Man set sail on their journey through primal screams, hectic beats and confetti galore, maintaining the same hyperactive energy level throughout the duration.

Man Man’s most noticeable trait is their raucous noise: their lyrics shout in testosterone-fueled howls, their pianos punch and slam without concern and their cymbals abuse with an unrelenting crash. Model students of the “loud and fast” aesthetic, the band is known for blistering through their songs at a high-intensity, break-neck pace. At this particular show, they slowed down only for hypnotizing tribal percussion jams, the most exciting of which being when they all wailed on kazoos and pummeled a fire extinguisher in the buildup to the show-stopping “Black Mission Goggles.” Needless to say, the audience more than appreciated this wild, balls-to-the-wall atmosphere. Afterwards, fellow concertgoer, Steve Markow, commented that, “Man Man is like that cantina band from Star Wars, but if it was made up of ninjas, Indian chiefs and all the craziest motherfuckers who went to your high school.”

Perhaps an even more astonishing aspect of Man Man’s live show is their uncanny ability to play together as one fluent being: each member equally important in making the music seem alive. Not only can they simultaneously shift momentum, tempo or mood at a moment’s notice, but they can also expertly move the focus of the music from one member to the next, feeding off each other’s energy almost symbiotically. While maintaining the fractured A.D.D.- like chaos of their studio albums, Man Man’s live songs, especially “Tunneling Through the Guy,” evolve with a smooth, effortless flow. This pulsating dynamic is so mesmerizing that those unfamiliar with the band are often unsure as to who the group’s actual “leader” is. Potentially, it could be either throat-chopper Chang Wang, Icy Demons and Need New Body-veteran Pow Pow, or UArts barista Honus Honus who bears the Alpha Moustache.

To no one’s disappointment, Man Man played a hefty set, clocking in at just about 90 minutes. Alongside the Six Demon Bag material, they presented a generous helping of older tracks from The Man in a Blue Turban With a Face, including crowd-pleasers “10lb Moustache” and “Zebra,” the cerebral “The Fog or China,” and, in the night’s most bizarre moment, “Sarspirillsa,” complete with a costumed woman acting out the song’s four lines of lyrics from atop a stack of amps. The band kept a firm grip on the audience for the entire performance, all the way to the final, exuberantly dejected mantra of “Van Helsing Boom Box.” Rejoicing in spite of their own pain, they said goodbye in an awe-inspiring moment of maturity and clarity. And somehow, it even felt like an appropriate ending to a night that had begun with robots in disguise. 

; is a werewolf double-majoring in “Suppression of Lycanthropy” and “Economics.” As a man, he likes simmering his own marmalade, collecting antique whaling harpoons and wearing argyle socks. As a wolf-man, he likes debating the socioeconomic implications of the Gadsden Purchase and being a ravenous killing machine. The efforts put forth in this magazine were a collaborative effort of the two. Much blood was spilled.

girl talk

by MEREDITH HASSET MIDDLE EAST DOWNSTAIRS, CAMBRIDGE - JANUARY 20, 2007 with DAN DEACON

Choruses of Kelis and Yung Joc aren’t the typical fare to be heard from the mouths of hipsters in their thick-framed glasses and over-sized mid-waist belts (yes, that was what I was wearing, get over it), but Girl Talk’s Gregg Gillis is far from post-anything. Gillis’ music achieves the lofty task of cutting through the pretension of indie music, where listing off obscure bands that might not even be good and denouncing Death Cab for Cutie for being too mainstream are the norm. Indie kids aren’t supposed to hum the chorus of “SexyBack,” yet Gillis’ beats unite all of us in admitting that Dem Franchize Boys can be kind of fun to dance to. Gillis’ mixes can’t fit into any one genre. His instruments are his laptop and a calculator (to make sure the beats work at a level of mathematical accuracy). He defines his music as a “sound collage,” emphasizing that he is not a DJ. While DJs simply play other artist’s music, Gillis describes that every note he plays is either altered or remixed from the original source, further distinguishing his tracks from other mash-ups. Songs by artists like Stereogum and DJ Dangermouse layer their compositions by mixing only two or three tracks, while Gillis’s songs can blend over twenty clips from genres as dichotomized as jazz and crunk. His most recent 16-track album, Night Ripper, sampled over one hundred and fifty songs.

When I arrived at the Middle East, a sparse crowd was staring blankly at the alt-country first opener. The Texas Governor seemed neither fitting to open for Girl Talk nor Tim McGraw. Half an hour later, though, when the second opener, Dan Deacon, set up a table of jumbled neon tape and wires, the crowd went from lifeless to uncontrollable. Deacon created an atmosphere of New Year’s Eve euphoria by forcing a countdown before almost every song. I can’t really tell you what his music sounds like nor how he played his wires, but he was sweaty, he had Gillis nodding along, and I have the bruises to prove that the crowd enjoyed his set.

At 11:45, the stage was bare with Gillis, a table, and two laptops. He began by coupling Lil’ Wayne and George Benson with some incomparable dance moves involving a full body inversion using the table as an anchor and some intense head tosses. This was the only part of the night that could be described as a show. After the first song, the crowd and the stage lost any and all separation as everyone clawed their way onto the stage to find a spot near the laptop. Despite a few pauses in sound when wild fans pulled out the cords to the speakers and power source, Gillis’ performance was a flawless hour of pure primal dance. Highlights included samples of Kansas’s “Carry On My Wayward Son” over Justin Timberlake’s “My Love,” a mix creating the lyrics “lean with it rock with it whoop there it is,” and a sped up “Everyday I’m Hustlin’.”

By the final songs, the concept of going to see Girl Talk was no longer the point as sweat evaporated in the air and essentially rained down again on the mass of gyrating bodies. As I walked out, my glasses were fogged over and my belt was lost, but I guess that’s just what Gillis does: strip us (of our pretensions, of course). 

; Meredith Hassett is a freshman who came to grips with being a nerd when she found herself having a preference for a specific lead thickness in her mechanical pencil. She passes time strategizing how to steal tubs of fluff from Carmichael and perfecting the robot. Unfortunately, her myopia guarantees she will never see you on campus.

badly drawn boy with ADEM by GEORGE NAGEL SOMERVILLE THEATRE - MARCH 5, 2007 MELISMAreviews

On Monday, March 5, Badly Drawn Boy (a.k.a. Damon Gough) came to Somerville Theatre with Domino Records’ Adem. All timestamps are approximate.

7:30 – I arrive at Somerville Theatre, where the ushers help me find my seat. They are very nice to me, as if trying to make up for what is about to happen. 7:32 – Adem comes onto the stage and plays a really nice set of almost-lullabies, sung in a Chris Martin-like voice. He mixes up his sound with various instruments including an acoustic guitar, ukulele, and… autoharp? His sweet songs and the comfy seats give me a sense of security. No, Adem, I don’t blame you for your part in the plot; I merely think you were a pawn in Damon Gough’s scheme to ruin my evening. 8:02 – Adem gracefully ends the set and makes me feel happy. 8:30 – Ah, here he is! The guy I’ve been waiting for comes onto the stage and takes the mic. What follows is a pretty solid mix of songs we’ve come to love from older albums, as well as songs from his newest, Born in the UK. Everybody’s getting into it. Okay, maybe the newer stuff isn’t to my taste, but it’s worth it to get to hear “The Shining” and “Once Around the Block,” as well as a song from the About a Boy soundtrack. 9:00 - Hmm, this new stuff is kind of annoying. So is having to plug my ears from the over-zealous PA system. Also, what’s up with this pitch-bending thing he keeps doing with the keyboard? Every time he starts to play something we want to hear, he puts his hand on that wheel, whirls it around a little bit, and ends. 9:20 – Gough takes out a cigarette and begins to smoke, with some comment about not being allowed to but not caring. Concert-goers know that cigarette smoke isn’t easily avoided, but I have a cold and the tobacco smog carries across the theatre. 9:40 – Oh, great: another block of songs from his new album. This is kind of sounding like a cheesy seventies album. Hmm… is that tinnitus? No, that’s feedback in the speakers. 9:45 – Gough finishes the song and makes some remarks to the bass player about how “everything is too fuckin’ loud” and “[he] can’t hear [himself] think.” Too bad everything really is too loud and we pick up every word he says. 10:00 – Gough decides “Oh, wouldn’t it be fun if I came down into the crowd (cigarette in hand) and sang while sitting in the audience?” Okay, at this point, the Vegas image is cemented in my brain. Oh, what’s that? You’re having trouble singing because you’re coughing. Don’t worry - smoke up, Damon! 38

10:05 – Gough announces he must leave for a smoking break. Lights dim on the stage and he walks off. The audience is left awkwardly clapping in the hope that it might repair the situation. Think, “If you believe in fairies.” This goes on for probably five minutes without any show of Badly Drawn Boy. I’m considering leaving, but I paid a lot to see this show and I want to get as much out of it as possible.

10:08 – Ah, here we go. I hope you had fun, Damon - we didn’t. He apologizes for leaving, but he couldn’t breathe, blah blah blah. Honestly, I don’t care; just get on with it. 10:20 – He begins to play a cover of some song but then chases away our hopes of something fun with that stupid pitch wheel which ends it all. When he plays something good, it’s good. When he plays something else, it’s really bad. 10:30 – Is this seriously still going on? It probably wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t throwing a hissy fit about the PA system and dropping his guitars all over the place in frustration. Forever:45 – The show’s gone on long enough for my cold to go into remission and come back with a force as of yet not recognized by the scientific community. Wait! He’s bowing. YAY! Huh? Did he just say that if we wanted to stay he’d be back on with one more song? I thought that we had a hope of getting out of here. People are randomly throwing out compliments in hopes of making him just get it over with it. Eternity:07 – He comes back on. This is a good sign; only one song left. And it’s acoustic so I don’t have to worry about my ears exploding. Ridiculous:20 – Finally we’re done here. No, no. The only standing ovation you’re getting from me is my standing up and getting the hell out of here. I exit having lost a sum of money, four hours, and my respect for Damon Gough.

The final tally? Adem – 8 Badly Drawn Boy – 5 Damon Gough – 0

Talk about being badly drawn out. 

of montreal by DAVE McCOUBREY AVALON, BOSTON - MARCH 11, 2007 “I think rock should be tarted up -- made into a prostitute, a parody of itself.” --Brian Eno

I bought tickets to the Of Montreal show at Avalon in January, pissed I had to wait until March 11 to see them.

Here’s the (brief) timeline: Of Montreal’s new album and their tenth studio release, Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?, was leaked on the Internet in October 2006. Tickets for their on-going spring tour went on sale two months later. Hissing Fauna was officially released January 23, 2007. On February 13, at a show in Las Vegas, lead singer Kevin Barnes walked on-stage wearing nothing but a sequined cummerbund. Photos of everything that wasn’t under that cummerbund popped up on Pitchfork the next day.

So, fast-forward to March 11 Essentially everyone with whom I attended the show (seven friends) had heard about, and were consequently terrified of, possible impending nudity. Even though the show at Avalon was all-ages, and Barnes would have probably been arrested for sashaying naked across stage, this is Of Montreal we’re talking about here, and you never quite know what to expect.

I’ll save you the suspense: no one got naked. Instead, the sold-out crowd was treated to an hour-and-a-half of costume changes, uncomfortable fruit use (more on that later), art/photography shows displayed behind the band, and the general histrionics that accompany everyone’s favorite Zombies/Kinks-aping, faux-disco, make-up caked, rock ‘n’ roll stage-strutters. It was my fifth time seeing the band, so I was curious to see how far they were going to take the pomp and circumstance. The last time I saw them in Portland, ME, in 2005, Barnes wore a wedding dress and proposed to the crowd.

Before the band came on, some dude dressed as Darth Vader strolled out and basically played the role of hype-man. Then one-by-one, the band took their places and launched right into “Suffer for Fashion,” the first cut from Hissing Fauna. Without stopping, they buzzed through the next three tracks off of the new album, with the crowd clearly most excited about “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse,” in which Barnes implores “chemicals” to kick in and do their thing to save him from a life crisis.

By the show’s end, every track except the mammoth 12-minute ode-tobeing-depressed-in-Sweden, “The Past is a Grotesque Animal,” from Hissing Fauna was showcased, including a terrific encore rendition of “Bunny Ain’t No Kind of Rider.” Apart from Hissing Fauna, the band drew heavily from 2005’s The Sunlandic Twins for their set. They also played “Vegan in Furs” from 2004’s Satanic Panic in the Attic -- a live rarity. At various points throughout the set, Barnes would change outfits or a giant Cerberus would loaf across the stage or Vader would stroll back out, adding a general “What-thefuck-is-going-on” feeling to the show.

For a solid hour, the band ripped through one hit after another, touching on everything expected. A dance-oriented band, Of Montreal left everyone exhausted from jumping up and down and banging their heads. Some highlights included “She’s a Rejecter,” complete with live drums, “Forecast Fascist Future” and a cover of Bowie’s “Moonage Daydream” in which guitarist Bryan Helium churned out the solo that closed the song perfectly.

After the vibrant main set, we were treated to three encore songs. Before the last one, Barnes exclaimed, “Now we’re going to play a song by one of our contemporaries - The Beatles! Just kidding: The Fiery Furnaces. They’re better than The Beatles. But they’re not better than The Shaggs,” after which they played a spirited version of the Fiery Furnaces’ “Tropical Ice Land.” Leave it to Barnes to claim The Fiery Furnaces are better than The Beatles, then namedrop a super obscure girl group from the 60s who released one album and were never heard from again. If that’s the pop trajectory down which Of Montreal is headed; we’re in for an interesting batch of new music in the future.

Going over the show in my head, it’s clear that Of Montreal spent a lot of their infamous Outback Steakhouse commercial money on props and set pieces. At the time, the swirling artwork and the strange photographs of 1970s track meets were funny and strange (no doubt the effect they were going for), and I even laughed during one song when a guy dressed in a white fencing outfit came out, waving a Norwegian flag. But I think, in retrospect, that maybe all the busy embellishments distracted from the music. Look, Of Montreal’s songs are weird enough. They have tracks about: a girl who has sex with dead people (“Chrissie Kiss the Corpse”), vague sexual longing for distant cousins (“Jennifer Louise”), Nietzsche (“My, What a Strange Day with a Swede”) and pancake-eating withdrawal (“Pancakes for One”), but “Faberge Falls for Shuggie,” from Hissing Fauna, is the single-most ridiculous song, both sonically and lyrically, Of Montreal has ever penned. Still, when Barnes began to rub fencing-unitard man’s crotch with bananas and shove them down the front of his outfit, everyone was at a loss. I understand that Barnes doesn’t give a shit. This is why he walked around naked in Vegas and why he cakes on colored eye-liner and wears mesh stockings. But honestly, after a while, the extravagnace takes away from the great songs he writes. The man has amazing stage presence, but no matter how hilarious, fruit sex isn’t all that necessary.