Concert Review: The Wrens @ The Middle East 9/16/06

The Wrens – Middle East – 9/16/06

by Sideshow

Somehow it wasn’t surprising that The Wrens started off their show at the Middle East on an anti-climactic note. This was, after all, coming from a band who may have succeeded in putting together the most awkward and poorly ordered tracklist in recent memory (speaking, of course, of The Meadowlands). But that album made up for those strangely ordered songs with a raw, unbridled passion for playing the songs. Their live show was fittingly similar. Guitarist Charles Bissell came out on stage by himself and started playing an unfamiliar and dissonant riff with muffled vocals. A new song, perhaps?

Just as the crowd starting getting a little restless, the familar strums of “This Boy Is Exhausted” started slowly emanating from Bissell’s guitar. Grown men shrieked like school girls. Beers were chugged. Indie rock was single-handedly saved.

Then Greg plugged in. Then a treble check that says they could win. Then pandemonium.

“Boys, You Won’t” kept the energy in full swing. Bassist Kevin Whelan frantically swung his guitar back and forth, danced on the amps, and shouted his approval to the crowd, a la Craig Finn. In between songs, Bissell spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make seamless transistions via the Wah-Wah and Loop Pedal, searching for that perfect sound. Perhaps this is why the Wrens are notorious for reworking songs to the point of gratuitous perfectionism. But these moments Bissell spent hunched over his effects pedals did not slow down the momentum of a cathartic show.

The band invited about 25 members of the crowd up on stage for “Hopeless”, and handed out 25 drumsticks. After doing a little research I found that this is a common practice for The Wrens, and a brilliant practice it is. Rabid Wrens fans frantically pounding on any surface they could find while screaming, eyes closed, “Thank yourself for nothing!” was the most indelible image of the night. I am positive that one guy in a Wrens t-shirt who stayed on stage for the rest of the show was creaming himself the whole time. I think the funniest thing was that he just sat on a milkcrate with two of his friends, gazing longingly at Bissell’s backside for the better part of an hour. And I’m sure he blogged about it immeadiately when he got back home.

In either case, because of the 25 fans up on stage for two songs, those of us in the third row moved up to the front. It was just in time for the highlight of the show. “Happy” was easily one of the top five songs I have ever seen live. The Wrens have always carefully straddled that line between “emo” and “emotional”. Watching four late-thirtysomethings rock out with such aplomb while singing, “Are you happy now you got what you want?” could have easily been disingenuous or contrived. All it made me do was vehemently shake my fist at that lousy bitch (I think her name was Beth) who broke his heart. God, I hated her so bad at that moment.

“She Send Kisses”, a glorious song about the inherent fucked-upness of long-distance love and communication, put a decidedly climactic end to a phenomenal show. As the encore was about to begin, guitarist Greg Whelan took out his cell phone and placed the mouth of the phone over his guitar pick-ups and stood there waiting for something to emerge. Feedback and fuzzed-out noise emanated. Soon, something more recognizable and distinct took shape. A melody, some words. It was not until Bissell came out from the back, singing the opening verse to “Kisses” into another cell phone that the crowd fully realized what was happening. Coming from a band with a history of break-ups and bad relations (with girls and record labels alike), of bad communication and aborted records, this ending seemed all too appropriate. Maybe Beth and Grass Records never got the message, but the crowd at the Middle East certainly got it loud and clear.

Top Tracks Part 3 – Summer 2006

I haven’t had much “time” to “download” or “listen” to “music” this “summer.” Most of my “time” this “summer” has been spent “traveling in my busted-ass Ford Escort -wagon,” and in, of course, the “unnecessary” use of quotes. (And yes, while I typed that I did the make-little-air-quotes-with-my-fingers-and-excessively-slowed -my-speech-pattern.)

As such, I’ve been listening almost exclusively to the radio. I know, the radio! I thought it was dead too, but I when I was cruising in the aforementioned busted-ass machine, I realized that I could find entertainment in more than just aggressive driving. My resultant experience–of actually listening to the radio–was more often than not disappointing. (There’s only so much nü-metal one man can take!) Nonetheless now and again when driving through America’s heartland the nearest Clear-Channel-owned Alt/Classic Rock station would play a track that was both a) relatively new and b) didn’t cause me to retch violently and change the channel to the nearest Clear-Channel-owned Oldies, Clear-Channel-owned Top 40, or Clear-Channel-owned Lite Rock station.

So here they are, my Top Five Tracks of Summer 2006 you may actually hear on commercial radio.

#1: “Hands Open” – Snow Patrol; Eyes Open

Sure commercial radio wouldn’t be so bold as to play Sufjan Stevens, but they’ll play a song that mentions him, right? In any case, the Scottish-born Snow Patrol empitomizes Brit-pop, and I’m O.K. with that. “Hands Open” is the perfect three-and-a-half minute pop song, with one of the best opening verses I’ve heard in years: “It’s hard to argue when / You won’t stop making sense / But my tongue still misbehaves / And it keeps diggin’ my own grave.” If you’ve never been in a relationship like that, you’re doing something
wrong.

#2: “Crooked Teeth” – Death Cab For Cutie; Plans

I’ve been a sucker for Ben Gibbard’s oft-cheesy lyrics and pop sensibilities since long before the Postal Service was, well, something other than the guys in white trucks who bring the mail. Color me emo, but “Crooked Teeth” is the perfect song for the ride from Memphis to Nashville when you’re sporting one of the worst hangovers of your life. (In related news: “Someday You Will Be Loved” off the same album is one of my favorite tracks of the last year. But if the radio don’t play it, I ain’t rankin’ it.)

#3: “Fidelity” – Regina Spektor; Begin To Hope

This one may be a bit of a stretch, if only because I heard it first on one of Baltimore’s local NPR affiliates and then again in a number of generally non-commercial venues. That and it’s probably jazz more than anything else. But Regina Spektor can do things with her voice that can drive the (frankly dull) lyrics home, and with enough heart that you are thoroughly convinced. Suffice to say she’s not as hot as I imagined her, but that is only to be expected.

#4: “When You Were Young” – The Killers; Sam’s Town

Perhaps my favorite thing about The Killers is that everyone thought they were British when it turns out they were from Vegas all along. Clearly they’re just hustlers who know a good thing when they see it, and ran with it as long as they could. Coming off the absurd success of Hot Fuss, The Killers have been faced with the pressure of producing a sophomore effort that doesn’t blow. Whether they’ll succeed or not we’ll soon see, but if “When You Were Young” is any indication, Sam’s Town seems to point to a Coldplay-like attempt to repackage and re-hash what made you famous, add a little more flair, and hope it works again. In any case, I hope someone someday says I don’t look a thing like Jesus, but that I talk like a gentleman.

#5: “Over My Head” – The Fray; How To Save a Life

I’m becoming more and more certain that The Fray is the next Matchbox 20. What does that say about them? Nothing positive, I’m sure. If you actually listen to the rest of the album, or even their other single, everything The Fray does sounds pretty much the same, and has about as much meat as a malnourished chihuahua. That being said, it’s quite catchy and it’s competing against the likes of Nickleback, so it gets the nod.

Concert Review: Man Man @ TT the Bear’s 9/12/06

Man Man @ TT the Bear’s 9/12/06

Less than 50 feet from the entrance of TT’s is my office building, situated on the corner of Mass Ave. It’s haven/hot spot for local drunks, mental patients, and the homeless (many of whom I work with on a regular basis.) Here’s the thing that most people don’t know about homelss folk: if you can get past the stench of body odor and cheap bourbon, if you can get past the war paint and the muttering under the breath, some of these people have some profound shit to say. (Of course, some of their profound shit is warning you “Charlie’s got a tomahawk at your neck!” and you look back to see a waddling pigeon, but you get the idea.)

Such is the case with Man Man. Mustacio-ed, manic, and looking down-right disadvantaged in their on-stage garb, Man Man brought their Beefheart-meets-Waits “homeless punk” to Cambridge to piss off all those hipsters who are still waiting for the Shins to change their lives again. In preparation for the show, I did what any self-respecting social worker would do: buy cheap schnapps and slip into the bathroom to steal a swig or two. It was here that I met the drummer for Man Man. He had the same plan as I did, and was not a little disapointed when I beat him to the stall. Sucker.

Not 5 minutes later, I was staring at a disturbing scene. Some drunk homeless men had emptied the contents of their knapsacks on the stage. Christmas lights were draped around the pump organ. A set of dumbells and free weights were scattered across the stage. And somebody had left their set of rubber ducky bath toys on the keyboard. Oh. Wait. Nope, that was just Man Man.

Honus Honus, lead singer and ringleader of this musical carnival, led his motely crew out on stage decked out in war paint, white shirts and white running shorts, and ungroomed mustaches. Oh God, were there mustaches. They romped through a series of stellar songs from their latest offering Six Demon Bag, including the stand-out track “Van Helsing Boombox”. Honus’ rough growl and the background vocalists’ frightening shrieks were Waits-esque. It’s been said that Waits’ cataloug can be divided into two distinct genres, Grim Reapers and Grand Weepers. Man Man go straight to the first one, make it more homeless, and never look back. “10 Lb. Moustache” (clearly not a self-reference) sounded a bit like carnies shouting around a camp fire while some gypsies played some mean accordian and keys, while “I, Manface” staggered and stumbled in a gloriously drunk fashion, before the percussion

Honus darted magnificantly between organ, keyboard, drums and what he called the “tool box”. It was, literally,a toolbox. It was filled with bicycle horns, kazoos, pots, pans, and a mini-keytar. The toolbox was a glorious medium for percussion, a way for Man Man to release some pent up energy by banging on dumbells, blenders, or whatever the hell was in that case. An over-looked part of Man Man’s performance is how the stage is set up. Rather than having the lead singer up in front, facing the stage, this was set-up like a drum circle with all the musicians facing each other.

“Ice Dogs”, the closer from Six Demon Bag, absolutely killed the audience. It featured, amongst other things, the multi-instrument-playing-carnie in the back to play 2 saxaphones at once, while kicking pots and pans that were hanging near a microphone; Honus standing on the drum set, conducting the band in the crescendo outro; the drummer flailing manically out of his seat between drum fills. The Mo-Town “shoop-da-dupes” at the end of the song were so damn catchy that I’m sure they killed 82% of the dancepunk that’s still around these days.

In a word it was one of the most memorable concerts I’ve been to. Ever. The genuine love of playing music live is something that is difficult to fake, and these guys absolutely had a blast that night. They reveled in their antics, but were never gimmicky; they played up their schtick, but never at the expense of the music. Let me put it this way: they dress in identical outfits, but they are the opposite of the Hives. Which brings me to my original point. Despite the homeless motif that Man Man rocks, they are still crafting great, catchy songs with talented musicians and songwriters. Don’t let the unshaven mustaches, drunk muttering under the breath, or the greasy hair fool you: if you get close enough, you’ll see some profound shit.

The Thermals – The Body, The Blood, The Machine

The Thermals

The Body, The Blood, The Machine

Sub Pop, 2006.

Imagine this: John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats makes a loud punk album full of biblical references, and fairly clever lyrics. Sounds pretty good, eh?

Unfortunately for us, The Thermals created just such an album with The Body, The Blood, The Machine, but decided to populate it with ridiculous songs about how the Bush Right-Wing Bible-Thumping Administration is fucking America in the ass. What the fuck?

Consider: “They’ll pound you with the love of Jesus / They follow, they follow / … They can tell me what to read / They can sell me what to eat / They can feed me and send me the bill / But they tell me what to feel / I might need you to kill.” (From “I Might Need You to Kill” and more such examples abound, but I won’t bore you with them here.)

Not exactly subtle lyrics – clearly the CRW’s (Christian Right-Wingers) are going to force x-tianity on the masses, use it to control people, and then send them off to war. What’s next? “OMG, Patriot Act = 1984.”? “The government was behind 9/11″? Or maybe, “LOLs Bush r teh dumb!1″

Now, I’m not necessarily against making a point with your music. Often times politics inspire downright incredible songs. For example, Edwinn Starr’s War. (Huh! Good God G’Y'all. And sometimes those songs inspire moments in crappy Jacki Chan/Chris Tucker movies. So making political music is doubly risky: You risk being annoying, and you risk inspiring Jackie Chan to do some thing annoying.) The problem here is that The Thermals are beating a horse that has been dead for the better part of the last half-decade. At this point maybe I could tolerate one anti-Bush, anti-Christian song on an album, but devote the entire thing to the topic is completely gratuitous.

All is not lost however, as the music is catchy, and clean but not over-produced. The punk is poppy in a The Clash/Ramones way, not a Sum-41 way, thank God. (Yes the same God, who gave our president the power to take blood for oil and skull-fuck pagans, and outlaw homosexuality. Or whatever else The Thermals would have you believe.) Coming in at under 40 minutes, and with songs that have enough variety to keep you interested for the majority of those minutes, this album does not suffer from the typical dragginess of many other pop-punk flavored albums. Fans of the Mountain Goats will be happy to hear what it would sound like if Darnielle went all sorts of electric on us.

And if you ignore the heavy sarcasm, “Returning to the Fold” is an extremely catchy song with excellent lyrics about life and death. “I regret leaving my soul / I forgot I needed it, to feel / maybe when I die / I’ll just grab it real quick.”

So I have quite the love/hate relationship here. On the one hand I find myself wanting to put this album on, as quality catchy punk (or post-grunge, or whatever this is) like this is rather uncommon. On the other hand, if I listen too much to the lyrics I get annoyed at best, and angry at worst.

But I will agree with P*tchf*rk on one account. These tracks land like bombs. (Bombs of pure fucking annoyance.) In my household we keep our music and our The Daily Show separate, but hey, if you are into all sorts of immature, over-done and tired Bush bashing, then you will probably adore this record.

Top Tracks Part 2 – Summer 2006

Not 20 minutes after I posted that I intended to write my top 5 of the summer, the universe decided it was tired of my fucking around, and caused a complete and total system failure on my primary machine. Things are mostly back in action on Aristotle, but my iTunes “most played” list is off in digital heaven somewhere. So we are going to do this from memory. Booyah.

#1 “Stuck Between Stations” live on The Current – The Hold Steady

Until the MySpace gifts, this was the only “leaked” song from B’Grls ‘n ‘mrica, and I played the unholy hell out of it. The fun part is that this is an acoustic performance, so the ‘flavah’ of it is going to be much different than the album version. The lyrics are the stand out feature of this song, as I pointed out months ago. Essentially I get my cake and get to eat the frosting too. Or something. I’m not good at clever metaphors on a Sunday afternoon.

#2 “On a Tip” – The Halo Benders

I’ve been a fan of this old school indie rawk staple side project of Dug Martsch (Built to Spill, y’all!) and Calvin Johnson (Beat Happening, hollah!) for quite some time, but this summer I picked up a copy of God Don’t Make No Junk, their first LP. The album is amazing, and “On a Tip” is really a standout track. To the un-initiated the sonic assault of Martsch’s unique tenor and Johnson’s disturbingly low baritone, often layered on top of each, often other singing different words, can be jarring. But once you get used to the oddity, you will find some truly unique pop music. “On a Tip” especially is a pop gem, the chorus will get stuck in your head for hours, and drive you insane because it is impossible to sing the two vocal tracks at once to yourself.

#3 “Let’s Get Incredible” – Lifter Puller

I’ve been catching up on my Lftr Pllr habit this summer, and although Sideshow’s choice of “Mission Viejo” was up there on my list, “Let’s Get Incredible” came in above it. Written as a series of shout-outs, this song is a serious pump-up number. Listen to it for inspiration before a friday night out drinking. The second half of the song involves more of the usual LP fodder: drugs, dudes that look like Jesus (but sleeveless), and then name dropping half the cities between the east coast of the US and the midwest. Intentionally hilarious lyrical moment: “there’s dust in these drum fills/and this mouth’s got mic skills.” Brilliant.

#4 “(It’s A) Departure” – The Long Winters

Decent album, but I feel this track got the most listens because it sorta sounds like a Lifter Puller song. Did I say sorta sounds? I meant exactly sounds. When John Roderick utters “I like the old days/but not all the old days/only the good old days”, one wonders if he gave Finn partial writing credit in the liner notes. (The similarity is also helped by the fact that Roderick sounds exactly like Craig Finn after a dose of cough syrup and a few months of classical vocal training…) This is also the song that best stands on its own from Putting the Days to Bed, mostly due to its basic lead guitar/drum driven structure and the fact that the lyrics are not about a girl who dumped him.

#5 “Oliver Square” – Cadence Weapon

We saw this crazy Canadian open for Islands and Why? at the Middle East in Boston this spring, but I didn’t really get into Breaking Kayfabe until the middle of the summer. I’ve been told that Weapon has “mad flow” and that his “beats are white hawt”, but I have no idea what those things mean. I just like listening to an angry black Canadian man rhyme over drum machines and synth loops. “Black Hand” is arguably a stronger song, but hey, we’re going by most-listened status.