Tiny Cities Made of Ashes.

A recent perusal through a couple of Sun Kil Moon albums — I always meant to get Ghosts of the Great Highway when it was released and I should have — has afforded me plenty to listen to and ample food for thought. What struck me the most was Mark Kozelek’s (the man behind Sun Kil Moon and Red House Painters) cover of Modest Mouse’s “Tiny Cities Made of Ashes,” from the Sun Kil Moon album of Modest Mouse covers, Tiny Cities. The original from Modest Mouse’s 2000 album, The Moon & Antartica, is a punchy, caustic indie rocker with funk and post-punk overtones. The vocals sound sarcastic as do the lyrics, which seem to detail the pressures of modern life, consumerism, bad food and pollution.

In the hands of Kolzelek the song becomes a world-weary elegy to the way the planet is being wasted and to those lost souls who find themselves in the middle of the ruins. Gone are the pneumatic bassline and the distorted vocal segments of the original and in their place Kozelek places a folk tinged lament, with the lyrics sung in beautifully delivered diction. This is a song for when the machines have failed, the electronic instruments no longer work and we’re left in the dust with strings and skins and things. This is the pastoral music of the future when the pastures have all been covered and wasted. This cover version is timeless, melancholy and inspiring, and the original makes you want to dance and recycle!

Orr

New album by Gang Gang Dance on the way

The good people of Gang Gang Dance have a new album called Saint Dymphna dropping on the 21st of October on the NY based label, The Social Registry. OK I’m being a little premature on this one, but I’m feeling it for a number of reasons. They approach the dance music/indie rock nexus in a very original, yet timeless fashion, their sound is lush, intricate and interesting and they have this tribal feel which brings bands like Japan, Codek and Dissidenten to mind while retaining a wholly original style. Imagine The Knife collaborating with Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and you’re almost there.

The track “House Jam” sounds like something Todd Edwards would do if he spent a year in India with Kate Bush and “First Communion” comes over like an eight lane pile up of M83, Roxy Music, Shackleton and Bush Tetras. This band flirts with dance music, but goes on a date with it too, unlike the plethora of increasingly tired, rock swaggering electro which worships at a golden calf shaped like Daft Punk, yet doesn’t take the time to investigate the American house music that the visionary French duo cut their teeth on. Like the cocaine come down of late ‘70s disco and its descent into breakneck hi-energy, electro is going the same route. History repeats, as do politics and economics. The nu-‘80s is almost over thank God, or Moroder or Todd Terry even. Irony wears thin, and it’s threadbare at this point.

Bands like Gang Gang Dance will carry the spirit of rock/dance fusion into the next decade without, wearing it on its sleeve, dabbling in the kind of rock posturing that marginalizes dance music while ripping it off wholesale, or harping on endlessly about post-punk in that cloyingly irritating, rich kid at art school fashion that has become as de rigueur as a pair of dirty vans and going to dive bars on a 1,200 dollar, fixed gear bike. Post-punk was great, it’s done, time to progress. Ditto with all ‘80s stuff, it’s great, we love it, let’s use it and move on. But back to Gang Gang Dance. The new album rocks, check it when it drops and I’ll be going back to it. It’s that good. Can a band be experimental and accessible at the same time? This band can.

Orr

The Yuppie Pricks give it the old college try!

In my humble opinion the death of any music form is when it loses its sense of humor, and there are ample occurrences of this down through the rock n roll age. From progressive rock in the early ‘70s to jazzy house and trip hop in the late ‘90s the history of popular music is strewn with the detritus (god I love that word) jettisoned from opuses (did you know that another plural form of opus is opera, hmmm) of an earnest nature. So when I got an email from those highly attractive, driven, astonishingly good looking yet humble and kind folks at Fanatic Promotion (sycophantic moi?) about a band from Texas called The Yuppie Pricks, I had to investigate.

Today I have their CD resting in my shweaty little mitt. It is touchingly (fnar fnar) called Balls and is ten tracks of break neck speed, melodic, driving and fun filled punk rock. The band comprised of pharmaceutical business magnate,Trevor Middleton (vocals), tgird generation divorce lawyer, Deuce Hollingsworth (guitar), Preston Hetherington (guitar), Ricky the Intern (bass) and Nigel Smythen-Wesson (drums) are based in Austin, Texas and are signed to the delightful Chicken Ranch Records label, which is also home to kick ass, Nashville, garage rockers The Clutters (check out their Don’t Believe A Word CD from last year).

Yuppie Pricks deal in reserve psychology punk by ironically celebrating the materialist excesses of the upwardly mobile in songs like “Greed Is Good,” “Fraternity Days,” and my personal favorite, “”Fuck You, I’m Rich,” which are tinged with old school UK punk, Black Flag and Dead Kennedys touches. And they get further love from me by covering a song by my one of my all time cherished bands, a tearing remake of “Male Model” by Derry’s finest, The Undertones, my local band when I was growing up and purveyors of top notch, total fun, pop punk. The choice of this tune by Yuppie Pricks is a testament to their fine choice in influences, which no doubt accompanies their fine choices in Brooks Brothers button down collar shirts and Bass Weejun loafers. This is punk rock with a message that you can laugh along to as well. Seems timely.

Orr

Groove Is In the Jung At Heart.

Yesterday evening, after meeting a friend at a sushi joint downtown, where the dj played the original tune Deee-Lite sampled for “Groove Is in Heart,” i.e. “Bring Down The Birds,” by Herbie Hancock from the Blow Up soundtrack, I sauntered back into the Loin and while strolling through the cross walk at Geary and Jones was passed in the street by a fast walking Lady Miss Kier, accompanied by none other than Shock G of Digital Underground. How coincidental indeed? 

Was this musical synchronicity, celebrity synchronicity (the name of a future reality TV show for the Jung at heart?), sushi synchronicity or burgeoning ‘90s revival synchronicity? Or was it all of the above? Either way it made me giggle. It’s not the first time I’ve seen the Lady in the Loin, but it was the first time seeing her accompanied by Shock G, the guy “who put the satin on your panties,” if you remember correctly.

Orr

The Wordless Music Series Featuring Works by Jonny Greenwood and more @ the Herbst Theatre, SF

The evening began with the beautiful, minimalist masterpiece "Shaker Loops", composed by John Adams, infamous for it's 1st movement's appearance in the Bukowski biopic, "Barfly"from 1987. The rigorous, dueling cello counterpoint earned nods of approval from the rock-bred crowd, hoping for a peak at their Radiohead hero, Jonny Greenwood.

This sweet cultural collision is one of the most fascinating aspects of a series like this. Someone like Jonny Greenwood, whose other role as lead guitarist in one of the biggest bands on the planet has the ability to expose the rockers to the more academic and sublime sounds of new music. Though much of the crowd seemed to be craning their necks around looking to see who might be in the audience and waiting for the final piece, I'm sure they left enlightened and with a head full of sound from a different place.

Next up was the amusing Fred Frith piece, "Save As", which paired silliness with profound melody. The percussionist was a total joy to watch as he toppled coffee cans, dropped ping-pong balls and played impossible vibraphone sequences along with sprays and punctuations of explosive percussion. The timbre of the treated cello implied amplified distortion only to reveal the recurring melody which resolved nicely to leave us with something beautiful to take away.

Arvo Part's "Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten" was a stately, sombre, pure musical form one might expect from a Part piece. Magik* Magik Orchestra rose to the majestic occasion.

Next up was Mason Bates's "Icarian Rhapsody" for string orchestra, which was an exquisite surprise from a young, San Francisco based composer who made an appearance during the ovation following.

Finally, Jonny Greenwood's "Popcorn Superhet Receiver" concluded the evening with it's Penderecki-inspired journey through sound. Screeching tense passages relieved by soaring, smeary, woozy glissandi recalled his other role's use of trailing ebow guitars and Ondes Martenot. The thrilled crowd seemed especially psyched during the pizzicato section of the piece in which the string players played their instruments like guitars, creating an energetic rock energy during this otherwise otherworldy, austere sonic place.

The 'head fans got what they came for and so much more. As Greenwood is in town for his band's headline appearance at Golden Gate Park the following evening, he poked his head out from the balcony,during the ovation, looking pleased, alongside Michael Tilson Thomas, conducter of the SF Symphony.

Props go to Benjamin Shwartz, conductor and the excellent Magik*Magik Orchestra. Much thanks to Terra Reneau and Ronen Givony for making this happen.

New Verve album is great, period, or full stop even.

I’ve never been a Britpop fan and that’s not to say that I don’t like Britpop, I just never really got into it that much. I liked a few of the tunes — probably some of the more obvious ones — like “Girls and Boys” and “There Is No Other Way” by Blur and a few tunes by The Verve, but never threw myself into it. I had friends back home in the old country who were bang into all of it, and who were constantly quoting Jarvis Cocker. OK, I’m talking about two guys in particular, who shall remain nameless for fear that their mammy will read this blog and great ructions will ensue. Anyway they were identical twins, or near identical, and they would quote Jarvis and pull Jarvis faces, which invariably involved sucking their cheeks in and speaking in a Nawthun English accent. They would also do chicken arm flap dances to David Morales remixes that had those hooty, M1 organ sounds that were so prevalent in the early ‘90s. If you have his Overweight Pooch remix then you know what I mean.

They were fond of responding to requests to do something or go somewhere with the retort, “Sorry but I’m practicing an Albert Camus novel right now,” which was a reference to a Manic Street Preachers interview in The Face, in which a typically English caption under a picture of an aloof looking Richie claimed that he was practicing an Albert Camus novel. And they liked having conversations with people on acid that involved verbally punctuating everything they said, for example, “Open quotation marks, hey Sean, comma, how — apostrophe — ‘s it goin' apostrophe, question mark, close quoatation marks.” This would go on for about a half an hour or until the unfortunate tripper on the receiving end of the conversation ran screaming for the door. High stair...ical as I would say myself.

What has any of this go to do with the new Verve album? Well, they were, or are, a Britpop band, one of the finest, some would wager, and their new album, Forth, which was resting in my greasy little mitt not two score minutes ago, is pretty damned good, epic, intense and dramatic. Sometimes Ashcroft and the music itself sound a bit like U2, but with less pomp and more texture. It’s a strong rock album crafted lovingly by some old hands in the game. It’s ten tracks long, is out on Tuesday the 26th of August and I’ve only given it a once over listen and it’s grabbing me big style already. It's kinda shpacey shoundin' too.

Perhaps I should leave aside my David Morales remix fixation and start collecting all the ‘90s rock twelves I missed, starting with that tasty, remastered 12 inch of The Pixies’ “Debaser.” Hmmm, I wonder who has one of those? Anyways, keep eyes peeled for the new Verve and I’m off and away, comma, OK period.

Orr

REX THE DOG ROCKS, REELS AND RULES!!!

If you’re like me — ancient, grouchy and over-opinionated — and hopefully you’re not, then you absolutely love Rex The Dog. Who he? Rex The Dog is a very talented British dance music producer whom I hella do be likin’ at this point in history. “Why,” I hear you gently whipser (misspelling intentional). I like his stuff ‘cos it kicks ass, and when I buy a record by him it remains in my play stack for months on end. He’s been making music — as Rex the Dog that is — since about 2004.  Jake Williams, the real name and brains behind this little cartoon canine, has been making tunes since he was a teenager in the early ‘90s. He got a very lucky break when a demo caught the ear of Red Jerry, owner of British dance label, Hooj Choons. Club anthems like “Son Of A Gun” “And You Belong To Me,” were the fruits of that connection, with Williams trading under the name JX.

He has also recorded under the pseudonyms Mekka and Oblik and was part of Planet Perfecto with Paul Oakenfold. I know what you’re thinking, “Oh he makes trance.” No, Rex The Dog makes tough, melodic electro full of lush analog nuance and modern production and glitch, which is coupled subtely with the uplifting feel and drive of classic trance. If you threw Jam and Spoon’s remix of Age of Love into a pot with Dexter’s “I Don’t Care” and Hugh Bullen’s “Alisand” that’s what Rex sounds like. My friend Mark Slandersosimo turned me onto “Circulate”/”Italian Blond” on Kitsune and “Maximize” on Kompakt (the German minimalists like a bit a kicky shit and fair play to them) back in early 2007 and I’ve been hooked since.

His music has a melodic and uplifting feel that is missing from a lot of modern dance floor music and he makes tracks that you can use to peak out a set and get the kids rockin,’ without resorting to the predictable approach of most electro bangers. Also, his beats can at times be banging and hard or very syncopated and funky, like on “Circulate” where the percussion intro sounds like Latin Rascals on steroids, heralding a muscular form of electro inflected freestyle for a fast moving world. His new single “I Can See You, Can You See Me?” is a deft exercise in forward looking dance music that hints at some of the triumphs of classic floor scorchers. It drops on August 25th and will be followed by his debut album, The Rex The Dog Show. Both will be released on the Co-operative Music label. Check him out, if you haven’t already, his music makes the party rock hard!!!

Orr