I’ve spent the last 20 minutes trying to think of a polite way to describe how much I hated Ruby Suns’ set.  After all that time, the nicest thing I can say about them is:

Listening to Ruby Suns live makes me want to gnaw my arm off.

Their sound is a combination of Afro-pop, Brazilian Tropicalia, and late 80’s Manchester beats.  Sounds interesting, right?  Not the way Ruby Suns play it.

Instead, every single second of the two songs I managed to sit through sounded like the boring opening seconds of a really uninspired Animal Collective ripoff.  You know, those seconds that are “purposefully” boring as a way of building a song’s atmosphere.  When those 20 to 30 seconds are up, there’s this big burst of noise that (in a good song) tie into and expand upon the simple melodies of the song’s introduction.  Instead, Ruby Suns just kept playing the same damn boring music, transitioning lifelessly between discreet sections of songs, bobbing around next to their instruments like the most boring pair of parakeets in the world.

Checking out Ruby Suns on their myspace page, they sound almost listenable.  That’s the insidious trap these sons of bitches have built - an interesting fusion of influences, and music that’s just competent enough to make you want to see a live show.

Do not be fooled.

(Oh, and The Coathangers were great, as usual.)

I have a question. Did everyone in Atlanta end up going to see the Dark Knight on Friday night? Well okay…it is a damn good movie, but even so, shame on you. Atlanta locals Sonen performed the same night, with a rather underwhelming and perhaps discouraging turn-out. I was present the night of their Corndogorama performance, but missed it somehow. I’m guessing I was getting one step closer to hell eating a corndog and checking out the outdoor stage at the time, but luckily I was given one of Sonen’s demos later that night. Needless to say I was very impressed by the recording, as the EP’s five songs played in my car uninterrupted for a few days, slowly growing on me.

Their performance at Lenny’s Friday night was wrought with difficulties. Yet, as I had grown very familiar with several of their songs, the sound still translated to me, the live mix just made too ambiguous an otherwise very colorful sound. I asked lead guitar/vocalist Keith afterwards “what was the cover you did?” only for him to reply “we didn’t do a cover.” Apparently the mic levels were so off that I misheard vocalist/synth player Holly in between songs, what I understood was “this next song is a cover [muffled noises],” but God knows what she really said.

Throughout a number of line-up changes, health problems, member migration, etc., Sonen is still going strong, and picking up speed. Of course the odds weren’t in their favor Friday night as there were some more screwy sound problems other than the mic levels, and some tuning issues between songs, but this band definitely shows some promise. Once their latest line-up solidifies things should run much more smoothly, and I can get a good glimpse of their A-game which is displayed prominently throughout the demo EP.

Technical issues aside, their exciting bass-driven electro-punk sound was just what I needed to hear that night. It’s now clear to me that, in or out of the studio, Sonen has some of the tightest and most powerful drumming for bands of this kind. Holly’s vocals are outstanding. There is a compassionate and warm quality to her voice which at times is seemingly juxtaposed with biting irony. This and the menacing bass-lines sometimes make me feel like I’m listening to a futuristic version of the Breeders (don’t you dare misconstrue that as an insult).

It was all kind of a refreshing morale boost, which was perfect considering I was feeling very under the weather. This performance deserved a larger and more ebulient crowd of spectators. There was a lone enthusiastic man dancing with himself, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the audience, bouncing around the floor and weaving through the spaces between showgoers who chose to scatter themselves throughout the room. If only more of these guys showed up, the room would have been a living electro-popcorn machine.

By the way, this is what a fashion show at Lenny’s looks like.

(visit Sonen’s MySpace here)

photos: Vernon Langley

I saw two great shows this weekend, both of which relied pretty heavily on lap steels for their sounds.  Maybe it was a coincidence… or maybe the lap steel’s making a comeback.  Are lap steels the new violins/recorders of indy music?

I saw Baton Rouge based Cohen and the Ghost this Friday at Wonderroot.  They have a pretty good setup - guitar, bass, violin, drums, and a second guitar.  But the second guitarist switches between instruments almost every song, going from guitar to mandolin to another guitar to lap steel.  I hadn’t thought about this before seeing Cohen and the Ghost, but the lap steel produces a sound pretty similar to a short violin note.  As Cohen and the Ghost’s violinist and lap steel players worked, their sounds tended to overlap, producing this musical hybrid instrument that really blew me away.

I wandered into A Fight to the Death’s Saturday album release party by mistake.  They were playing The Highland Inn’s cavernous Ballroom Lounge, a place I tend to associate more with DJ sets and weekend jazz than A Fight to the Death’s wierd rock mix of Americana and Western-strained melodies.  (I didn’t realize this until checking out their myspace page just now, but A Fight to the Death actually use the pedal steel guitar, an instrument I’d never seen in person before, though I’ve probably heard it on Calexico’s albums.)  Anyway, they played a really great set, and totally transformed my opinion of the Ballroom Lounge.

Perception Whore

Cosmonaut
From the sun baked streets of Los Angeles come one of the most seemingly bitter bands I’ve seen in a while. I guess it’s not that uncommon for a place notorious for at least twice as much failure as success to breed such a tortured and pensive musical force. The visions invoked through the Geiger-esque biomechanical artwork of Designer Codes come to life throughout the album. It plays partly like a gothy Depeche Mode album that must have been destroyed in a fire before it was released, but after a few listens it can remind one of a more sympathetic, less bitter Nine Inch Nails, and yet there’s a dynamic arena rock aspect similar to Hail to the Thief-era Radiohead or their recent tourmates Liars. The pounding of war-like drums coupled with the harsh clanging of digital scrap metal make me wonder: is Woven creating an atmosphere or destroying an already existing one?

Throughout the album I wavered a bit as this music at times seems very masochistic, cold, and industrial, yet underneath there is a very compassionate layer of emotion. The tracks sometimes play as if they are inflicting harm upon themselves. “Perception Whore” (like many of the tracks) pits contradictory elements against one another. A swooning choir of angels carries you throughout until you’re forced to consider whether or not they are actually crying out in agony. There’s a fierce momentum evident in the song structure which eventually leads to a rather ambivalent sound.

Designer Codes actually reminded me of an artist which seemed to be erased from my mind for quite some time. Remember VAST (Visual Audio Sensory Theatre)? Their self-titled album gave me a similar feeling to this one. On both albums my impression seemed to be that these are artists who are not preoccupied with creating beautiful music. These are artists who are creating, in an almost smug way, music that will give you chills, make you feel uncomfortable, make you long for the surreal, make you want to step into the shadow of your unconscious mind and experience the world in which they operate. Woven has made their way into the “guilty pleasure” section of my musical tastes, and the fucked-up thing is, I really have no idea why I feel guilty. Maybe it’s the same guilt one gains due to extracting pleasure from pain. In the masochist’s eye, pain and pleasure are nearly the same thing, and the brain tends to release the same chemical for both.

That being said, Designer Codes did make me feel a little uncomfortable and confused until I reached “Cosmonaut” and fell in love. While there are few tracks on the album as strong as this one, I would dare not take any of these songs out of their context and place them in, say, a very depressing and angsty playlist. Each song necessitates the other, ultimately creating a very impressive and cohesive album. Designer Codes requires the right kind of mindset, as it probably won’t grab you immediately. Instead you’d probably need it playing as background noise to allow it to work its way into the id. For those who consider music with this degree of moody self-examination to be pretentious and tiring, I’d still say give it a try. A guilty pleasure is still pleasurable after all.

(Visit their MySpace here)

“If I could only step outside my head…”

Lamprey Eels

Chopper

I’ve heard that Loxsly play a great live show. If they do, that infectious energy is missing in Flashlights, their EP follow up to 2005’s Maps and Organs. Instead, live-show unpredictability is replaced by a sense of overwhelming craftsmanship, an impression that every note of their four song EP has been tested, retested, replaced, and painstakingly honed by months of studio practice. This sense is most apparent on their second track, “Chopper,” a subdued six minute FREAKOUT. The track has vocals, but I don’t remember their exact words… instead, I remember the vibration of lead singer Cody Ground’s murmur, remember simple guitar riffs dropped into the song’s musical landscape like depth charges into a bowl of pea soup…

Track four, “Virgin Isles,” is another standout. It’s one of those rare indie songs which don’t use piano and organ as cheap tricks. Instead, the keyboards mimick and enhance Ground’s voice.

I mention Flashlights‘ second and fourth tracks as standouts, but Loxsly’s entire four song EP is worth at least a few listens. This is one of those album’s that will turn even the most crowded car ride quiet and introspective. It may be a departure from their more energetic Maps and Organs, but it’s at least as powerful.

Loxsly are touring the Southeast through mid-August, playing Athens’ Caledonia Lounge August 8th.

This is the sort of music you’d hear as the credits roll for a movie based on the plot concept, “guys kicking each other in their faces” (assuming Kasabian’s “Clubfoot” wasn’t already being used). It has those “nnnsque” noises people use when they’re making fun of techno. There are men and women screaming indistinguishable words in high pitched voices.

I would call the 4 song EP derivative, but 65daysofstatic has been playing this sort of music since 2001.  If The Distant and Mechanised Glow of Eastern European Dance Parties is derivative of any sound, it’s the sound 65daysofstatic has spent the last few years popularizing through extensive touring and remixing.  Unfortunately, in popularizing their style, 65days has also made themselves something of a cliche, as revealed in this latest album.

Dance Parties [Distant]

Antique Hyper Mall

The lineup:

Des Ark
Yardwork
Black Congo
Thy Mighty Contract

We were all pretty impressed by Thy Mighty Contract’s show at Corndogorama this year.  Even with less than a dozen performances under their belt, Thy Mighty Contract play a confident show, helped by tight musicianship and immaculate punk/metal/badass/art lyrics.  Their lineup includes members of Blame Game, Fagstatic, I Would Set Myself on Fire For You, The Orphins, and Narcolepsy.  If you like those guys, you’ll like Thy Mighty Contract even more.

The show’s only $5 at Wonderroot (a fantastic non-profit set up to connect artists with resources they need, like a recording studio, graphic design computers, and a darkroom), and doors open at 8:30.

There’s an interesting article about the invention of the record cover over at the undependent.

The greatest feat for any guitar player to achieve is to learn how to make the instrument sing the words that your lips cannot express.  A native from Atlanta, Kaki King has pushed the envelope with her 2006 release, … until we felt red by challenging all of her listeners to do some soul searching and allow her music to satisfy the void. The unique finger picking on this album is enchanting. You might hear traces of flamenco and jazz guitar, alongside Kaki’s own stylistic virtuoso creations. I watched a few of her live performances online, and her complex picking style reminded me a bit of Andy McKee’s instrumental acoustic work. What separates Kaki from other guitarists in this realm, is that her songs are constantly moving in and out of different keys and changing rhythm. She also throws in surprising accent notes where you wouldn’t normally expect them. Her unpredictability is what makes …until we felt red special. Her guitar produces melodies that make me wish I had grown up with her.

Occasionally, Kaki softly sings in a 9-year old choir girl voice about lost lovers and the fear of romance. Under normal circumstances, I would be turned off by her weak voice, but the rest of her music is so androgynous and inventive that I can’t help but celebrate Kaki King as an artist. She floats in and out of yearning. And where her voice is weak and childishly feminine, her fingers are deliberate and caress the emotion of the song fluently. …until we felt red will compel you to commit to loving whomever you please, to bursting into tears when your world crumbles, and most of all, the necessity to rejoice in your individuality. Kaki will tug at your heartstrings as she gently plucks and twangs her lap steel with long fingernails. And as you listen to her arms and fingers float down and around the neck of her guitar, try to soak up her authenticity as an artist. Girls like Kaki deserve a second listen, or maybe eight or nine. So go sit on your rooftop, plug in …until we felt red, snuggle up with your girlfriend and soak up as much of the good life as you possibly can.

Kaki King - Until We Felt Red

Kaki King - First Brain

Kaki King - Soft Shoulder

Kaki King - I Never Said I Love You

Buy Kaki’s newest record Dreaming of Revenge

the New Frontiers - Black Lungs

the New Frontiers - Strangers

For some reason you’re not ever supposed to “mess with” Texas. After hearing Dallas-based musicians the New Frontiers’ album Mending, I wonder why you’d ever want to in the first place.  Everything about the New Frontiers is so polished and clean-cut that you could invite them over to eat dinner with your parents tonight and your folks’ll just love ‘em. Mending features 11 songs, all of which could find their way onto episodes of Smallville or whatever the hell the kids are into these days. I’m not saying it’s not mature, I’m just saying it really lacks balls.

The songs on Mending are mostly tear-filled sing-alongs and bittersweet ballads, but definitely more sweet than bitter. I’d say this is what John Mayer would sound like with a slightly more mature sound (I’m trying not to grin right now), or an even more radio-friendly Goo Goo Dolls without any history of drug abuse. Mending is one of those albums that utterly demands you to sing along, right now! In fact, I bet your girlfriend is already singing along to it, go check…I’ll wait.

I wasn’t fascinated by this album. It seemed too familiar to me…too wishy-washy.  Every good rock artist must take certain risks with their music, and while Mending seems to be have crafted with a lot of care and sincerity, it is streamlined for commercial distribution and universal appeal. I really think people are gonna eat this shit up…teenage girls, mainly, and maybe certain teenage boys who pick up guitars just to get the teenage girls.  If more and more people were exposed to Mending (which they probably will be), I’d be in the minority of not praising this album. I’d be really surprised if the New Frontiers aren’t able to crack the music industry’s code with this one.

Buy Mending through Amazon