Seattle Subsonic - Show Critic
I am in Love With Janelle Monae
I confess.
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Janelle Monae had me before she even belted out a single note. Her costume, her hair, her demeanor, everything about here was stunning. An amazing talent. A little ball of energy…and then out came that VOICE. Holy Jeebus.
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Her first 2 songs, which blend seamlessly into one another, are truly something to witness live. (They are good on the cd, but really don’t compare to the mellower tracks on the second half, where she gets to show off her range.) I saw her Friday night in Portland, OR at the Doug Fir Lounge. She rushes out onstage in full doo-wop Motown regalia, with pompadour hair and black and white saddle shoes, like a football team out of the tunnel. Her backup band is also dressed to the nines in what can only be described as: the Temptations meet Outkast. She dances, two steps and hits every note so perfectly that I was just blown away with in the first 2 minutes. The audience couldn’t help but clap and dance along with her. If that wasn’t enough she proceed to come down into the crowd and dance like there was no tomorrow, and even muster up a crowd surf in that intimate venue. WOW. I am sprung.
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Then she blessed the crowd with an absolutely amazing ballad entitled ‘Smile.’ With the guitar as her only 
backing track, Janelle let out one of the most inpressive vocal displays I’ve heard in a long time and came with such emotion you couldn’t help but get goosebumps. What a talent she is. It’s kinda ridiculous. After that the audience was mesmerized, and she closed with my personal favorite song, Sincerely Jane. A very soulful song, with a destinct motown feel, about misguided youth. Again, the vibe she gives out when performing isn’t something you see everyday. The whole crowd was in the palm of her hand.
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Monae has been in the music biz for a while getting guestspots and it paid off when she landed a record deal through her Wondaland Arts Society label. She came up in Atlanda and worked with Outkast on their ‘Idlewild’ album and Big Boi’s ‘Got Purp Vol. 1′ collective. You can see these influences right off the bat. Ms. Monae is essentially a female version of “3 Stacks” himself, Andre 3000. Very original style and infectious personality all wrapped up neatly in an aura of unlimited talent. She is currently signed to Bad Boy and the album was executive produced by Diddy himself. Props to the Did-ster for letting her personality shine thorugh on the record and not forcing her into the poppy mold.
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Here is a video of Janelle Monae performing Sincerely Jane.
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Her cd ‘Metropolis’ is available in stores and she will be back in Seattle in October. DO NOT MISS IT.
A Club of Their Own? A Bit of Liars Club + Free EP
Went and saw The Liars Club Saturday night at The Bit Saloon. Perfect place to see them. Seemed like their kind of crowd.
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Interesting night all around…Monty Python references abounded–from the ‘Spam’ door stamp, to the “I Fart in Your General Direction” t-shirt the bartender wore. Didn’t help that my buddy and I had just randomly seen the Spam sketch prior to heading out that night. Was it predisposition or preordained?–I’ll never tell.
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I must admit, I didn’t catch much more than peripheral audio from opening band, Pablo Trucker–not an indictment of their music, it’s just that I happened to be playing the world’s longest game of “Elvira” pinball ever. Won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say The Bit’s table ain’t quite right.
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I was pleasantly surprised by the unassuming Seeing Blind. They had energy, something very unique to offer, and even though their tunes weren’t really my thing the crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves. I mean they have a cellist, fer chrissakes! And her contributions were no gimmicky afterthought. Overall, quirky, skillful, arty stuff without putting on arty attitude. Check ‘em out if you like your rock infused with a bit of jazz and an odd quasi-mix of Throwing Muses, Jeff Buckley and Tori Amos. (Don’t blame them if the comparisons are off. Again, not my area of expertise).
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Round about midnightish The Liars Club came on. Guitarist, Chris, had let me in on the prior night’s drama–Bassist, Alex, had either severely sprained and/or broken his left fretboard-fingering wrist. Thing was all swollen up and wrapped in a brace, but there he was–ingesting various suggested ‘pain-relievers’ and downing medicinal adult-libations. And at the volume The Liars Club played, I can honestly say I couldn’t tell if Alex was ‘on’ or ‘gone’. It was my first time seeing The Liars Club live, and I gotta say they did not disappoint. Sufficiently loud, sufficiently energetic (especially with newish drummer, Steve), and sufficiently polite (singer K.C praised a show-goer for his ‘metal-hair’). It’s true–dude was fully metal from the frizz halo around his Mustaine-do to the toes of his butt-rockin’ boots. The Liars Club weren’t dissin’ on him either–they were sincerely appreciative of his attendance and style. That about sums up their vibe that night. Happy to rock some faces, and makin’ the best of The Bit’s small space (K.C patrolled the crowd like a death-spiraling fish in a tank). I’ll give ‘em a Bronze, with most of the minus being a technical deduction for the apparent physical handicap. Nevertheless, they medal (or should I say ‘metal’)–and I’m pretty sure next time I see them they’ll stand taller on the podium. (and there will be a next time).
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If there’s anyone out there who hasn’t heard The Liars Club’s latest efforts, I’d advise you to have a listen. Feel free to download the entire EP with the last link.
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Wide Open Beaver
Wedgewood Hop
Trust Fund
Born on a Friday
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Download Entire Liars Club EP
Blackalicious & STS9
Don’t you just love it when you see some bands you know absolutely nothing about and you wind up having a great time?
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I was excited to see Blackalicious and Sound Tribe Sector 9 at Marymoor Park only because it was a beautiful day and listening to music outside sounded downright nifty! At the time I knew nothing about either band, but if I didn’t enjoy the music, well, at least I would be outside. I can’t tell you how bummed I was to find out the show had been cancelled at Marymoor at moved to The Showbox. I have nothing against the Showbox, I think it’s one of the best venues on the West Coast, but dang it, I wanted to be outside! I was half hoping my friend would call to inform me that she had sold the tickets and we wouldn’t be going, the idea of sweating in the Showbox just didn’t sound all that appealing, especially since I knew nothing about the two bands. Also, I’ve never gone out of my way to see hip-hop shows, but I figured if there was an opportunity to see some new music, what the hell.
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We got there a bit early and were able to score some chairs and a table, so at least we wouldn’t be crammed against the 18 and over crowd on the floor. We just hung out and talked while the DJ & bass player duo Conspirator warmed the crowd up with some tunes and riffs. As with most shows, the crowd was fairly sparse at the beginning, but the floor quickly filled up when the first set finished.
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The cool thing about Blackalicious was how they built their set around a steady escalation of rhythm and rhymes. Front man Gift of Gab took the stage almost as he if he was in a Suge Knight look alike contest, but the irony was completely forgotten as he treated the crowd to a rhyme that sounded like a car accelerating from 5mph all the way to 100mph in about 4 minutes! DJ Chief of Xcel handled the background just as he should have, and kept the crowd moving for the entire 50 minute set. It was good to see a group perform progressive songs with politically charged lyrics, the only regret I have is that I couldn’t really understand them, as he raps with the speed of that guy from the old Micro Machines commercials. Oh well, how else to you keep a crowd moving?
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My friend told me that she bought tickets for Blackalicious, so I didn’t even know that STS9 was even going to be there, let alone headline. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a purely instrumental group, so seeing these guys was a real treat. They kept the crowd pleased through their groove-jam style of performance that didn’t really involve hypnotic trance techniques. Heavy on the rhythm with every instrument given it’s due. It was also really cool to see a jam band where they don’t just stay planted on one spot playing their instruments, which made it easy to get into.
I’m always pleased when I find new bands to listen to, although I still think it would have been cooler to groove to these guys underneath the stars instead of the plasterboard ceiling of The Showbox. I’m going to check out iTunes and sample some of the tracks of these two bands; I just may want to listen to them when I go running!
The More We Get Together, The Happier We’ll Be
So let’s get straight to the point here.
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Seattle Subsonic is throwin a happy hour ho-down, this Thursday, August 21st at MOE Bar (attached to Neumos) from 5-8:00pm.
That’s 3 full hours of happy… uh, hours. A real deal, seat of your pantaloons, mondo fiesta and we’re comin’ in loaded with bunches of schwag to hand out from a host of local and national bands, some super neat-o buttons (ooh buttons), and buckets of random music trivia. We may just spare you the trivia.
This is all about cheap drinks and cheap thrills so grab your cheap dates, a fist full of singles and let’s have us a party.
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Joining us along with will piles of local music celebs, will be our special guests (and Seattle label) Light in the Attic Records. We’ve been getting real familiar with LITA over the past couple years with their incredible debut releases from local favorites The Saturday Knights and The Blakes, as well as helping The Black Angels put out their mesmerizing sophomore album, Directions to See a Ghost. These guys also have a gift for reaching into the past and digging out some serious treasures - better than finding out you’re really David Bowie’s kid. (Aw yeah, that’d be AWESOME!) Some of their reissues have been the ruby slipper of soundtracks, The Harold and Maude, a revival of Seattle own funkmasters, Wheedle’s Groove, and their upcoming release, Cold Fact, from Rodriguez, the Motor City’s pride from the 60’s and 70’s. All helping keep up Seattle’s rep of being a music mecca.
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Light in the Attic MIGHT just be carrying a bag full of goodies for all you kiddies.
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If that don’t getcha, let’s talk about 2’s.
$2 bottles, $2 wells, some $2 drafts, and $2 off grub.
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2 Legit..
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Cuz your friends are my friends,
and my friends are your friends.
The more we get together,
the happier we’ll be.
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See you on Thursday.
Telepathique Electronifies at the Paragon
Friday night after $1 PBRs at the Nitelite, I found myself stumbling into the Paragon to see Brazilian electro-pop trio (usually duo) Telepathique. The Paragon you may be wondering, well I was wondering too. I pretty much associate the crowd at the Paragon as where the Belltown scene was born. Guys with stripey shirts (why???) and girls with halters were there galore. However mixed in was a handful of the hipster persuasion, all in slight denial that they were actually hanging out at the Paragon.
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Not really conducive for any type of rock show to take center stage, Telepathique came out around 10 or so and crammed themselves into a corner of the packed Paragon with their computer gear, turntables and drum kit. As soon as the beats sounded, the belltown-like scenesters made their way to the back of the bar and the hipsters crowded around giving their full attention to the band. Telepathique, from Sao Paolo, Brasil, is normally just 2: Mylene with her sort of a disheveled Courtney Love meets Belinda Carlisle appearance on vocals and Erico Theobaldo, manning the drums, turntable and programming. Plus in attendance on Saturday was another Brazilian guy playing the guitar.
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Telepathique put on a pretty good show, one that would make many (even a Seattlite) get out to the dance floor with their mix of electro-pop, rock, and baile funk. You know, I’m beginning to love more and more the integration and blending of electronica into different genres of music (especially after seeing The Helio Sequence in July) . And I’m starting to figure out that the key to great live electro-<insert your genre here> is to create a seamless sound where computer beats mesh perfectly with the live instruments. This would be one of the critiques out of this past Friday’s show – when Erico kicked it on the drums, it distracted from the overall sound. Also, the vocals were sort of drowned out. But this could have been a problem with the venue too. Overall I’m glad I caught their act. Aside from the sound problems—they were there to please and have fun. Their attitude was infectious, well with the hipsters anyway.
Bands I Saw At The Block Party - Part 2
Continuing on with our “coverage” of the weekend, here are my experiences (straight from my eyes and head—spooky) from Day 2 at Ye Ol’ Block Party. The day was highlighted by an even bigger crowd full of people doing their darnedest to look ugly, several more first time encounters with a band (6 out of 9!), the ridiculous amount of trash produced by all the free garbage being given away (Jones Soda, Monster, Kettle Corn), and a delicious Polish sausage to accompany my High Life. To the music…
Fresh off several months of massive globe trotting, the local boys from the Cave Singers played to a hot and humble crowd, who was eagerly awaiting their ghostly folk tunes. Fudesco busted out an electric-acoustic and played first fiddle on a new song more akin to set-closer “Dancing On Our Graves” than the more protracted and chilling ”New Monuments”. If the second album has the up tick in tempo and improved craftsmanship the band employed on Saturday, look for it to be highly anticipated. Kinda like Pete Quirk after he ate that pot brownie and had to escape his ceiling fan the night before. True story.
Huh. Coulda swore the Physics were supposed to play the Vera Stage at 4:15. Turned out to be these dudes, bent on gettin’ us to make some nooooooooooize.
Kimya Dawson (sweet photo, huh?)
Ah, Kimya Dawson, the feel-good set of the weekend. My primary exposure to her up to this point was from the release of Juno, so I didn’t quite know what to expect. Not only did her quirky, innocent-auctioneer delivery complement her eccentric and candid story-telling, but she also invited her little bro “Junglefoot” up on stage to perform for the first (or near-first) time one of his own equally individual songs. My heart is warm with affection and blood. I am an animal, after all.
The Builders & The Butchers (another keeper pic)
I think this band won LB’s fabled “Best Band Seen That I Previously Knew Little About”. Oh sure, I’d heard about their wave-making down in Portland over the past few months, but hadn’t really had the chance to delve into their music. As we decided to head into their set at Neumos on a whim, we were met with a rollicking set of gritty, unwavering, Mountain Goats-meets-Zeppelin-via-Beirut folk-rock. This band has a lead mandolin player, for chrissakes. And a Frank Zappa lookalike on acoustic bass to boot! Egad! The perfect excuse for a road trip down to P-town.
Fleet Foxes [not pictured]
I suppose the sound directly in front of the main stage was adequate, but hanging in a beer garden packed to the gills with drunkards, the gentle harmonies and plaintive guitars of the city’s current favorite sons were simply lost somewhere along the way. When people shut up, you could actually hear Robin Pecknold’s voice penetrate the cool summer air and Sky Skjelset’s strings shimmer with the cloud-covered sun. But since I’ve made a habit of seeing this band over the past few years, we went to abuse our eardrums listening to…
Another Portland band I’d heard little about prior to this day, Black Elk fuckin’ rocked the Vera Stage like it was CBGB’s circa 1978. So much so, that the band’s drummer had to replace his broken kick pedal for the final song with that of following act Akimbo. Vocalist Tom Glose shimmied and contorted his body to the blistering bass lines of Don Capuano as if he hadn’t been doing the exact same thing for the past 15 years (I suspect he has). Think These Arms Are Snakes without the fancy keyboards and goth-poetry lyricism, and you might get yourself closer to the dark, rip-roarin’ anthems of Black Elk.
Chromeo is all well and good. They’re two fun-loving guys who really know how to use a vocoder, a few different keyboards, and a call/response with the crowd (not sure about the guitar, however). I actually like Chromeo’s escapist dance music—and boogied just to prove it—but for some reason, I kept feeling like I should’ve been inside a thumping, sweaty Chop Suey to get their full effect. Crappy Sound 2, LB 0.
I’ll be honest (since I mostly lie), Craig Finn’s voice really kind of bugs me. But I went into this performance with an open mind due to The Hold Steady’s obvious musical talent and wealth of energy—mostly channeled through Finn’s barefaced geekiness and hometown lyricism. The man would absolutely not stop moving back and forth from one end of the stage to the next, pleading with the people. But it all fell into the right place as the crowd couldn’t get enough of their bloozy, innocuous punk rock.
In all truth, I’m not sure there’s another band I would’ve rather ended my Block Party experience with than Feral Children. You might have noticed that I’ve written about this chaotic drum-fest AD NAUSEAM, but it’s only because they keep getting freakin’ better. Every time I see this band, their songs and performances are fleshier, more frenzied, more obsessive, and altogether affecting. This is not feel-good rock for the masses, it’s menacing and malicious noise-rock that’ll blow yer socks right the fuck off.
Bands I Saw At The Block Party - Part 1
Here are a few snapshots of my weekend, along with some brief reactions. Overall, the sound on the main stage sucked and somebody sold too many tickets, but, as always, the positives (sneaking my flask in, doling out amateur fashion criticism) outweighed the negatives (motorheads, achy knees). Oh, and the music was top-notch. As always.
One of the bands I was most eager to see, our first show of the day didn’t disappoint. Intelligent guitar work and rapid-fire drumming accompanied by Jordan Blilie’s screaming and crooning. Look for this newish band to only improve with time.
PWRFL Power finally won me over. I’d been reluctant to enjoy his offbeat, cheeky, sometimes-heartfelt songwriter stories—dubbing them hackneyed and boring—but the newest Brooklynite took full advantage of his Vera Stage homecoming. Guy can really pluck his guitar, too (the same one Kurt Cobain had, we were informed).
Girl Talk: meh.
Got another notch in my musical bedpost while watching MC Pearl Dragon charm the crowd inside King Cobra. DJ Gajamagic’s beats were smoov at times, bombastic at others. You’ll notice P shed his shirt at one point. You’ll notice the other MC’s (Thomas Gray, I believe) hilarious nod to MTV days of yore. You’ll notice the freakin’ party bumpin’ on stage.
Easily the best (or my favorite—you decide) show of the entire weekend. Les Savy Fav’s sublime art-punk is the perfect backdrop for the Number 1 Showman In Rock Music, Tim Harrington, who had (at least) three wardrobe changes, two separate audience adventures, and kindly lent a hand in preparing some street meat. All while keeping tabs on his bare belly and his next potential “jungle gym”; and the singing, of course. I asked him earlier in the night (seriously) to play one of my favorites off their latest record, and the band cordially complied.
I’ve made no attempt at masking my admiration for one of Seattle’s hardest-rocking, double-bass playing, grunge-punk bands (that’s a category, right?), and ending my drunken night with them in the King Cobra was fitting. Their songs grow tighter as their fan base grows taller.
Mudhoney Blows the Place Up, No Age Shuns Ageism
Like many music freaks with an ear to the ground, I jumped at the chance to see a free show featuring one old-skool punk band and one new-skool punk band playing together. KEXP and Free Yr Radio were nice enough set up a lowly publicized, complimentary all ages show down at the KEXP parking lot last night (7/23) with L.A. DIYers No Age opening for grizzled Seattle vets Mudhoney, apparently still riding high from the release of their eighth LP, The Lucky Ones, back in May. So high, in fact, that three-quarters of the way through their set, the band rocked so incredibly hard that the PA system blew a fuse, a jackbox, or whatever, causing a stir and a 15-minute impromptu intermission. It also could have simply been a faulty set up by the sound dude; the jury is still out.
Thankfully, someone finally fixed the technical difficulty and avoided an embarrassing finish to the show by allowing the band to dutifully conclude their set. I like Mudhoney, but I feel like their best years are behind them (their first single, “Touch Me I’m Sick”, is still their best song). They are, however, a local iconic presence that can still coax the aged cave dwellers out from their darkened lairs, as well as those of us floating somewhere in the middle who find their Stooges-via-Sonic Youth blues-punk entertaining enough. The crowd, made up of city-rockers from yore and younger scenesters on hand to catch one of LA’s recent pleasant surprises, was an exercise in dichotomy. In addition to the general people disparity, several local musicians were in attendance (members of Feral Children, the Heavy Hearts, the Purrs, Cancer Rising, Partman Parthorse, Past Lives), along with the resident KEXP DJs and, of course, Sub Pop’s head honchos. I love shows where the people-watching enhances the act on stage.
I don’t know if people regularly make this comparison or not, but the one thing Mark Arm has going for him is that he reminds me of Iggy Pop a little bit. Mostly facially, but his voice and cadence are similar as well. I find his lyricism trite some of the time, instinctive at others; theatrically, though, he’s got nothing on the lead Stooge. Lead guitarist Steve Turner can still shred with the best of ‘em, however, and many of their tunes had the mosh pit ravenously feeding on its victims.
No Age, currently touring with fellow SoCal art-punkers Mika Miko and Abe Vigoda, is the future of punk music. Adhering to venerable standards with well-timed guitar freak-outs, laden in feedback (intentional or otherwise), and head-pounding drums, the duo adds a serving of atmospheric experimentalism to its affable demeanor and catchy-but-not-poppy “melodies”. Dean Spunt plays drums and sings; Randy Randall abuses his guitar and then loops it. I came across the band late last year and quickly admired their first album, Weirdo Rippers. Their second, Nouns, builds upon the first but has a more controlled feel to it.
Many of their songs are short, so they ripped through a set that highlighted “hits” from both records, creating a soundtrack for the first-time crowd-surfers as Randall jumped off anything he could find. And given the amount of cloaking done on his recorded vocals, it was nice to hear Spunt’s words come across rather clearly. The band announced that they will be playing a house-show Friday night somewhere in Seattle, but did not (publicly) reveal the details. A cursory search through the various rogue-venue “websites” yielded no results. The task is at your hand.
(The PI is the only place I’ve found pics posted so far.) And here’re some more.
Secret Wolf Parade Show Is Secretly A Success
If there’s one thing that Wolf Parade has perfected, it’s the ability to evoke emotion in the listener through its heartfelt songwriting and impassioned live performances. Where some bands are content with simply delivering an album or set of songs in a workmanlike fashion, this quintet from Montreal makes it quite clear that they’ve poured their heart, their soul, their philosophies, and their everyday experiences into every note penned. None of this was more evident this past Monday night (7/14) at Neumos, where the band played an encore set to their headline duties Sunday at SP20 (you probably think I went to both; I did not.)
Despite my recent barrage of posts on a band I so obviously worship, I’d still like to take one more stab at conversion with my amateur evangelism. One reason that I geek out on them so freely is the way the recordings compare to the live versions of their songs. On record, the songs are intricate, layered, clean, and meticulous, with the proper balance of guitar angularism and enigmatic lyricism to mesh with melodious and catchy keyboards. They sound equally remarkable through either headphones or your living room stereo. But when the instruments are plugged into a stage, and an audience, there is an unmistakable rush from the sonic volley between key members Dan Boeckner and Spencer Krug. I’m not sure there’s a more prolific songwriting duo out there than these two, what with their ancillary successes (Swan Lake, Sunset Rubdown, Handsome Furs) to complement their kingpin project of Wolf Parade. I suppose I’m exaggerating, but I honestly can’t think of one. Both are a force to be reckoned with, and it’s really fun to watch them play out a record they’ve claimed is their own, with “no one else involved.”
Photos by Laura Musselman
Foals, part of Sub Pop’s New International Dance-Rock Contingent (see Brazilian brats CSS and British hip-pop ensemble The Go! Team), was a surprise addition to the bill, despite this being the fourth time the Britons have played Seattle this year. I’ve increasingly enjoyed their debut, Antidotes, mostly for its awesome up-tempo rhythm section (bassist Walter Gervers is ridiculously talented), but also for its sounds-like-insects-by-design distinctiveness. Plus their name means “little lover of horses” in Greek. I, too, fancy the equine ungulates <link fixed>.
Long Live The Gits
So, I went to see the Gits documentary—succinctly titled “The Gits”—at the Northwest Film Forum last night. And it was easily well worth it (especially since I had a free pass courtesy of KEXP). If you fancy yourself a “Seattle music fan”, inwards and outwards, I implore you to take advantage of the screening currently happening, through July 14th, at the NWFF. Heck, if you’re simply a music fan in general, you should go see it. Or, alternately, if you want to be touched by the tragic murder of a supremely talented young woman doing her best to pave her own road, and the heart wrenching accounts of the people closest to her, then go see it. The NWFF is a local, community-supported, non-profit organization after all.
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It’s safe to say I watch a lot of movies—Netflix and I are on a first name basis—but I guess I don’t watch a lot of “rockumentaries” for whatever reason. I’ve seen a few; some of the ones I’ve enjoyed in recent years are DiG! (where I learned to admire the Brian Jonestown Massacre and despise the Dandy Warhols), Fugazi: Instrument (which was really more of a 2-hour artsy music video than a documentary), and LoudQUIETLoud (where Kim Deal and Black Francis taught me to agree to disagree). And now “The Gits”. I suppose I’m drawn to movies that highlight rock bands with some sort of no-nonsense, DIY philosophy. My point being, though, is that I’m underqualified to say if this was a good rock documentary or not. I do not, however, consider myself underqualified when I say it was simply a great movie about an intriguing local band’s life unjustly cut short.
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Many of you are probably already familiar with the rise and fall of the Gits (fun movie fact #1: their name comes from a Monty Python episode, where a ‘git’ is an obtuse geek of some sort—rad!). For those who aren’t, the band moved from Ohio to Seattle in 1989, quickly gained a cult following through vocalist Mia Zapata’s raw, bluesy style and the band’s incendiary, hard-hitting punk shows (fun movie fact #2: the band lived and played frequently at a Capitol Hill home known as “the Rathouse”). In 1993 following a night out with friends, just as the Gits were about to be offered a deal with Atlantic Records, Zapata was brutally beaten, raped, and murdered on 24th and Yesler. In the words of 7 Year Bitch drummer Valerie Agnew, “the world came crashing down.”
Ryan Montbleau Band Take the Stage
Ok, he’s not from Seattle, or anywhere close to the northwest for that matter. But he’s too fucking good not to spread the word, if in fact the word hasn’t been spread already. Massachussets’ Ryan Montbleau and band blew me away at the Tractor Friday night. My buddy from Boston had been pitching Montbleau’s upcoming Seattle show for months. I had an inkling based on Nick’s musical interests I’d be walking into some sort of funk, jazz, and/or bluegrass scene. Not necessarily my favorite (the funk and jazz aspects), but hey, I’d committed to the show and I wasn’t backing out.
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I briefly myspaced the Ryan Montbleau Band at work Friday. Halfway through one song, I switched back to the M83 album I’d been listening to before (indeed a music critic faux-pas). I’m not kicking myself for this, because some artists simply must be seen live in order to be fully appreciated. Montbleau is a prime example. If you aren’t initially captivated by his inherent sound or genre on disc, I promise you’ll be spellbound if you catch him live. He’s not just a radical guitarist and brilliant lyricist, he absolutely shines as a performer. And with an equally outstanding 5-piece band to boot, my $12 ticket felt worthy of $50+.
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Before I delve into just how fantastic he is, I’ll share the inside scoop on Montbleau prior to his musical outbreak. I can’t promise the details are exactly correct (turns out a friend of a friend’s ex-boyfriend used to live with this guy… something like that), but it goes something like this. Several years ago, for one reason or another, Montbleau and his girlfriend were residing in different cities. Montbleau, the romantic he is, struggled deeply with this and fueled his depression and bitterness towards learning the guitar. He’d never played before, but over the course of two years became quite good. Within the first year, he’d sing and pick and strum his guitar to the dismay of his roommates. Apparently he was so terrible they’d tell him to shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. But one day, close to two years later, one of his roommates realized Montbleau sounded quite good. In fact, he realized, Montbleau sounded fucking brilliant.
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The rest is history (Montbleau has 4 albums out to date, his first was released in 2002 and his most recent in 2007).
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Montbleau has a phenomenal voice. It’s strikingly similar to indie pop-rocker Eric Hutchinson, who, strangely enough played in town Friday night as well (Neumo’s). However, I’m compelled to reverse the order of comparison here. Montbleau’s voice is far more powerful, and as a result far more compelling. It’s striking, stable, soulful. He sings sweet, light-hearted, sometimes silly romantic tales with outright determination.
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His music is a melange of genres. Soul, funk, jazz, pop, acoustic, bluegrass, roots, hippy, folk. Sunny melodies you can’t help bop your head and stomp your feet to. Last night, the band was comprised of a drummer, a second percussionist, a cellist, a violinist, a keyboardist, and Montbleau of course. Perched on a stool, guitar in hand, Montbleau sang and plucked and tore through aesthetic, complex harmonies, both electric and acoustic. Individually, the rest of the band were equally mindblowing. Their product is a rich, complex and powerful sound.
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In addition to being an outstanding artist, Montbleau’s a charmer to top things off. Oblivious of his own charisma, he has stage presence few artists can fathom. His adorable boyish looks, crooked smile, short mop of hair, grassroots style and genuine character do no harm in propelling his humble but goofy persona. And the passion he displays on stage is gravitating.
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Check out Montbleau here. My favorites from what I’ve been exposed to so far are “Stretch” off One Fine Color (2006) and “75 and Sunny” off Patience On Friday (2007). And next time he rolls into town, CHECK HIM OUT!! You won’t be dissapointed.
CultureMob Presented: (1/2 of) The Roots
While the barista at my favorite cafe bumps Giant Panda’s “Laser Ray” from Electric Laser, I am bobbin’ my head, procrastinatin’ and reminiscing of last week’s attack of rhymes here in the City of Intermittent Wipers.
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CultureMob threw a great post-party on Thursday night after The Roots‘ appearance at Marymoor Park, where they opened for Erykah Badu. I didn’t venture out to the show as my passport expired and I didn’t have toll for the bridge, but I carpooled like a good show-goer up to The Hill for the jump-off. Beers for the prefunction at the uber-hip Quinn’s and we showed up fashionably on time at 11:15 as DJ ?uestlove, self-proclaimed “fake DJ”, began spinning. Promoted as a listening party for the new release, we knew the whole band wouldn’t be present, and a full set seemed unlikely but beyond that, we weren’t sure what more to expect. Particularly because we hadn’t seen the earlier show. Were MCs from Rising Down going to be hanging out? Was Talib or Peedy Peedy going to be there? Mos Def? Everyone loves Mos Def, right?
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?uestlove wisely pumped out hits to keep the crowd on its feet, and prompted many a call and response as he was about two steps ahead of us on the tables. LL, Snoop, Beasties, Biz Markie, plenty of familiar jams. The set sorta meandered towards the middle with some instrumental wankery but as soon as my comrades began to fade, we were invigorated by the sight of Black Thought at the corner of the stage.
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His set, though brief, was better than expected for an MC that had already put in an effort outdoors in Redmond. The setlist was a bit of a montage, with songs culled from the new release, Rising Down, as well as The Tipping Point, Phrenology and I think I recall “Here I Come” from Game Theory. The absolute standout was “Web”, the chorus-free three-minute breathless tirade from The Tipping Point, followed by an equally fierce “75 Bars” from Rising Down. Catch
that vid (complete with explicit lyrics!) here on the YouTubes. Seeing BT spit that live was worth the 6 weeks of waiting since learning of the show. (”The Roots at Neumos? You’re kidding, right?”) Whatever strings were pulled to make this happen, I’d like to thank CultureMob for their efforts. You hooked up about 100 fans with the kind of club experience that doesn’t come around often enough.
