On Influences: Vivian Girls (a guest blog)

To Henry Darger, the Vivian Girls were warriors. They were children with the courage of grown men. They were victims and aggressors, fighting against the notion that children were somehow beneath the dignity of adults, and represented in thousands upon thousands of exquisitely catalogued drawings and narratives. The Vivian Girls were beyond human, twin-sexed--sometimes drawn with penises--perhaps pragmatic and perhaps meaning nothing at all. But they were the only tool in Darger’s extremely devout and socially anxious toolbox to help him process his childhood of abuse and his lifetime of solitude.

In the year 2008, the Vivian Girls are a band. They are a good band. I like their record, the self titled “Vivian Girls,” but something is not quite right. They are both meaningful and meaningless, and it is hard to say why. Maybe they are meaningful because of their potential to show us something about the way artists go from listening to creating their own music.
Why meaningless?
Because who really gives a shit anyway…

Incidentally, The Vivian Girls Experience from Philadelphia is an avant-garde duo who make up songs called “kitten lemonade stand,” and who have at least had a myspace since 2005. They also have some very impressive craft and costume making skills.
http://www.myspace.com/theviviangirlsband

The Vivian girls in 2000 were a band from Melbourne, Australia, now disbanded. They list their influences as New Wave and Situationism. Now THIS, sounds like my kind of band.

Needless to say, that PBS special “In The Realms of the Unreal-the mystery of Henry Darger” sure has been getting around. That reminds me that the Public Broadcasting Corporation relies on support from viewers like you.

But this is a story about the Vivian Girls, the band. The band in 2008 made up of three girls: Cassie Ramone, Kickball Katy and Ali Koehler. A blonde, a brunette and a redhead. Not necessarily in that order. This is not a joke. Their album sounds like a hazy reflective on a whole host of bands that have in the past moved me to embrace the dual nature of destruction and creation in life, my femininity and masculinity. They have moved me because I expect the music in my life to bring about the next step in evolution. So it is natural that when I first heard the signifiers in the album:
Surfy Beat Happening guitar riffs (mmm, Black Candy!)
Vocals somewhere between Talulah Gosh and Heavenly
Vaseline’s Harmonies
heavy on the distortion, reverb on the vocals,
are you kidding me…I was excited. Especially because of how it stood out in the rotation of my local college radio, WUOG.

But after a few listens I started to notice a theme…no context. No life experience. Lyrics just added as an afterthought because songs are supposed to have words. Generic. Copied. Because its cool enough. Because its easier.

On their Myspace the Vivian girls want you to know that they are influenced by the Wipers, Nirvana and the Shangri-las. These are the bands that they want you to hear when you are listening to their music. This is perhaps more interesting then what their music actually sound like. It is interesting because they sound more like the bands that Kurt Cobain was into, than what Kurt Cobain used them to become. While Nirvana and Wipers (even though Nirvana certainly came after) seem to have evolved from a common ancestor (like Chimpanzees and Bonobos), Vivian girls seem to be a de-volved version of the two. If they are evolving from anything, its more likely a branch off of the Social Distortion evolutionary tree. Why?
Well lets take a look at some live performances:

And for a follow up, a look at some more of their recent “controversial” (if controversial means you are BORING, and having a conversation I have heard 100 times already) video interviews:

Vivian Girls: Zing!.

Vivian girls are without a doubt a band searching for a sound, but who have nothing to say about the present, let alone the future. They are not as Jonathan Richman once said, “In love with the modern world”. And even their love for the old world is suspect.

I played it for my friend at work who’s first response was “Wow, this doesn’t sound modern at all!” He was right. So it got me to thinking about what it means to produce art in 2008 and have nothing to say about the future. And more than that, what do the Vivian girls have that is uniquely their own? Are they creating anything new? I think the answer is yes and no. There are really beautiful moments on the album, like the high pitch harmonies on the song “Where do you run to” which reminds me of the Vaselines. And there is the warmth of the California sun (Which I have never experienced, but imagine often), synthesized by a certain kind of guitar tone that I don’t understand, in the song “damaged” which reminds me of one of my other favorite bands, X.
So at their best Vivian Girls owe their moments to bands from 10-20 years ago.
And this wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing if they could do so with the enthusiasm and creativity of, oh lets say, another one of Kurt Cobain’s favorite’s: Shonen Knife.

I mean these ladies really were in love with the modern world. I get the feeling they liked the Ramones too.

And on second thought, the absence of a modern sound is not really the Vivian Girls’ crime either.

What about Thee Headcoats? I thought.
While in 2000, still using all of the sound signifiers of 1960’s lo-fi garage rock, Thee Headcoats still sounded like a fucking force to be reckoned with. But this is because of what was under the manifest sound. It is not a repeat of 60’s garage rock, it is 60’s garage rock from an alternate dimension. It has something new to say about the past and what it is like to deal with that past in the present and future. I suspect this is probably because of Billy Childish’s horrifying experiences of childhood sexual abuse when he was 9 years old. It was best put by the love of my life who said, “Um…I don’t think anyone ever wrote a 60’s garage song about looking at the gun in their father’s hand, or the day they beat their father up.”
Good point.

Speaking of fathers, Kickball Katie told a story about her father (Mr. Kickball? Kickball daddy?) in this interview:

Vivian Girls: What the Fuck?.

My point is, Vivian girls do not play music because their life depends on it. They play music because they want you to like them. There is a certain divining truth in music which is almost always true: If you are a boring person, you cannot make yourself anymore interesting by playing music. Your voice will reveal the truth, who you really are (or who you really aren’t). There was something communicated in Kurt Cobain’s voice that was extra-worldly. It felt as though if he didn’t get it out maybe the whole world would end. And maybe someday it will, but I do not think the Vivian Girls are anymore interested in this than they are with Sarah Palins’ fabulous million dollar haircut and debate “zingers.”

But in the end, I do like them. But I also feel sorry for them. I feel sorry for the fact that they are so emotionally young in such a big world, in such a big time. I feel sorry for the fact that they are talented musicians and have nothing to say, because there is a lot of sadness in really trying to create something meaningful for yourself and having it be meaningless to the world around you. (That would make a good song!) Listening to their recent video interviews I was reminded of hanging out with girls just like them in High School and early in college. No experience and an opinion on everything. They are not interested in anything other than repeating what has been said to them by someone they believed was interesting. They are no different from girls in Sororities, they just wear different clothes. They have different symbols but the same ritual context, the same class background. Just as it did then, it leaves me feeling utterly alone. It leaves me beginning to understand why Henry Darger chose to live his life in solitude with only his made up world to help navigate what was left of his sanity.

In many ways , the Vivian Girls are just like the naïve college girls that Jonathan Richman used to sing to from the cold sidewalks of Boston (still kind of inappropriate Jonathan…). He was pleading with them, that if only they would think for themselves, if they would only have the courage to live without the fear of disappointing your parents or having someone laugh at you, the fear of being alone, then their lives could be so full of meaning, joy and mystery. Just like how Henry Darger’s interior life was so rich, despite his ultimate fear of real human contact. So I guess why the Vivian girls’ are more of a disappointment than some band that just plain sucks is because of the stunning promise of what they could be, and that they seem to be running in the opposite direction of that promise.

Vivian girls, who cares what people say about you.
put out your cigarettes
and act like real girls.

Posted by: Lester Bang Bang on the door, Baby

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Live Review - No Age, Titus Andronicus @ 40Watt Sat. Nov. 14th

Titus Andronicus went on first, in the sense that they went on before NoAge.
Titus Andronicus went on second, in the sense that they went on after the first band.
In the sense that I didn't see the first band, Titus Andronicus was the first band I saw.

I came close to seeing Titus Andronicus play at the Squirrel earlier this summer. On the way to the 40Watt, I was trying to figure out why I didn't end up going. Once they started playing, I remembered that I had gone on their myspace page and found out that I couldn't stand them.

A fable.

Sometime in the early/mid 90's, when Gilman St. all-ages punk was still all the rage, a group of pirates abducted the young, prebubescent punk-obsesses future members of Titus Andronicus. Raised on a steady diet of up-down beats, and too much beer, the now-bearded & foul-mouthed youths were dumped somewhere in New Jersey with a house full of instruments. Left to fend for themselves and sing for their supper, they seized on the one thing everyone in Jersey can agree on--Springsteen, and spat out their influences in a giant five-personed splat.

That's what it sounds like anyway. Stage banter ran all the way from "fuck me" to "fuck you," usually settling on the latter. The songs all sounded like a testosterone-laden, sea-chanty, harmonica-blowing, Ruby Soho-sounding mess. And so it came as no surprise when the singer took issue (during a between song monologue) with something one of the NoAge guys had said the night before.

"Fuck Springsteen," said the guy from NoAge.

Mr. Andronicus let it be known that if anyone said anything like that tonight, then we would be settling it "outside in the alley with fists and knives" (which come to think of it sounds like a line from Born to Run). I'm sure the only thing that kept him from punching/stabbing NoAge the night before was his four other band members holding him down and reminding him that NoAge was the headliner of this tour, and a whole hell of a lot more well-liked than Titus Andronicus.

By the way, Titus is from Glen Rock, New Jersey--a town 20 miles northwest of New York City. Aside from the fact that it's lame as fuck to love Bruce Springsteen simply because he's from the same state as you (I'm imagining Pylon playing this week in California, and Vanessa pitching a fit because someone doesn't like The Black Crowes), it's even lamer when you live closer to Julian Casablancas than to Asbury Park. Fuck Titus Andronicus, and fuck Bruce Springsteen, the Fonzie of Rock'n'Roll.

Turns out NoAge only said 'Fuck Springsteen' as a joke because they were getting ready to cover a Misfits song, and were propping up their favorite Jersey artist by tearing everyone else's favorite Jersey artist down. Of course the NoAge guy sounds more like Jad Fair than anyone else from Jersey, and there's more that happened in this whole turf war but I'm getting tired of telling the story because it's a whole hell of a lot less interesting than what NoAge did, or at least tried to do on the stage of the 40Watt club for the sixty or so people who came out.

If you had trouble sleeping this summer because your allergies were acting up and you weren't able to breathe so you stumbled downstairs and drank a glass of emergen-c and while you waited for your breathing to return to normal you may have been lying on the couch flipping through the channels when you saw this video on Mtv--yes, the actual Mtv.



By going more ferocious, more experimental, more psychedelic, NoAge has been able to add one more chromosome to the inbred DNA of the high-pitched white indie-rock singer gene. I'm talking the Superchunk - Built to Spill - Modest Mouse- Shins voice, the thin strangled squeak-shout straining to impart knowledge & emotion. By upping the MBV and lovering the GBV, they've been able to make something fresh for the indie world.

For a band with two members and an album that sounds nearly as dense & layered as Loveless, NoAge live sounded surprisingly like NoAge on record. Modern technology is an amazing thing. The band did everything they could to fill the space, climbing on monitors & speakers, jumping down into the audience (20% of the audience was moshing, 95% of the moshers were moshing non-violently--health & safety ed.), ranting against Proposition 8--a California band's version of name-dropping Springsteen. The show was beautiful, cathartic, and loud. They went well past 1am and nobody left until they played their last note.

I wasn't bored for one second, and I can't remember the last time that happened.

Here's some footage from a show they played two weeks earlier, same song they opened with at the 40Watt.



More fun facts about Glen Rock, NJ, and by extension, Titus Andronicus.

avg. income per household - $104,192.
Pct. population below poverty line - 2.4%

Same numbers for Athens.

$28,118
28.6%

No wonder they think Bruce Springsteen is actually a real person.

TV On The Radio - Dear Science

It's only been officially available for five days. Doesn't matter. This is the best thing they've ever done.

I'm sure I'll have more to say about this album a year from now, or five years, or ten years. Let's just say that TV On The Radio has finally found the perfect balance in their music between dread & anticipation, between apocalypse & redemption. Between art & pop. Music that would sound at home on radios as well as museums--95.5 The Beat & MOMA.

TV On The Radio embraces their contradictions like it's the only thing that can save them.

I could tell you the story of how they made the album, I could pick out snatches of lyric that signify & evoke. That stuff's available all over the internet wherever you look. And it's definitely worth reading, especially the band's testifying on behalf of Billy Idol's "Eyes Without a Face" and The Bangles' "Walk Like an Egyptian".

Instead, since this is presumably a blog about Athens music, it might be nice to mention that this band who has played all over the world played a show here in town at the 40Watt a year ago. They didn't have to come here. It was probably the smallest town, the smallest venue they played the whole tour.

Anyway, I was hanging out at the old X-Ray Cafe when the band stopped in to look around. I was having a weirdly introverted, raw-nerved kind of afternoon, so I just let them do their thing. Smiled and nodded hello whenever someone made eye contact. Listening to them chat with the store's owner, they sounded nice, funny, friendly, down-to-earth, and decent. I couldn't think of anything to say beyond thanks for coming to our town and playing this show, so I left them alone. Later, when they put on one of the most ferociously transcendent shows I have ever seen (check out this appearance on David Letterman for a taste)...



...it made me feel even better to know that these people were genuine in what they were doing.

This is an album to live with, to listen to over and over. In a time when so much that passes for culture is disposable and flat, TV On The Radio has done that rarest of things--created something that can exist in any world you want it to, even if that world is disposable and flat.

And in the process, they may end up making the world a little less flatter.

Here's the first video from the album.

Tunabunny Feature

So how did you guys all meet?
“Well I think I met Mary Jane first”.
“No, I already knew Chloe through Jesse”.
“But really, Brigette and I went to Cedar together so we met first”.
“But as far as Tunabunny went, I guess it started when you and I were working Saturday mornings together”.
“Or when we started going to sing Karaoke”.
“Okay. Really it started when me and Scott started dating”.
“When we moved in together, really, is when I think it started. Because then your dad starting bringing over his old gear”.
“And we started playing Devo and Pere Ubu songs together”.
“No, just say the band started when I met Chloe at that Pylon show and she told me she played drums. That’s when the four of us finally got together”.
“You know what’s messed up is I remember Chloe asking me if she could be in our band like, a year earlier. I remember having to tell her there was no band”.

Tunabunny has existed for anywhere from 5 months to a year, depending on how you look at it. They played their first show in April, and since then have gone from a ramshackle mess getting by on potential (and enthusiasm, and charisma) into something more purposeful and controlled. Which is not to say that they’ve lost any of their freedom, or that the songs are calmer or more tamed, it’s just that now you can actually hear the songs. Now, the band is in charge of their music, instead of the other way around.

“Well those first shows at the GoBar, we’d be sitting outside talking to people, and all of a sudden someone would say ‘you’re on’—”
“And we’d rush inside pick up our instruments and start playing”.
“Only it was so insanely dark in there that we couldn’t see a fucking thing”.
“I just remember looking down at my bass and going, ‘That’s funny, I can’t see the dots on my bass”.
“Yeah, we’d all be playing on the wrong frets for like the first three songs until our eyes adjusted”.



Tunabunny tends to finish each other’s sentences. Mary Jane and Brigette, the two singers and guitarists, went to high school together at Cedar Shoals. They’ve known each other for nearly ten years. Scott, the bass player, met Mary Jane working at Jittery Joe’s and they became quick friends though a shared love of The Breeders and Karaoke (“and beer,” adds Scott). When Scott started dating Brigette, he was shocked to find out that she already knew Mary Jane.

“Chloe was always kind of on the periphery”.
“I knew you from working at Five Points”.
“And I just knew you as Tay’s friend”.
"And that time at the old store when I asked you to turn up The Velvet Underground after that one asshole customer asked you to turn it down”.
“Oh yeah. That was totally awesome”.
So how did the four of you all start playing music together?
“Well at first it was just me and Scott, and we kept inviting people to come over and play with us. Mary Jane started coming regularly and that really clicked. But we still needed a drummer—because I didn’t want to be stuck behind the drum set. So once I met Chloe and found out she played drums, she came over and it just took off from there”.
Chloe, had you ever played drums in a band before?
“No.”

It turns out that hardly anyone in Tunabunny had ever been in a band before. Mary Jane and Brigette had both been playing guitar for less than a year. Scott had played one show with Summer Hymns before quitting—“they wanted me to play guitar, I hate playing guitar. Besides, I was having more fun playing with these guys”.



I wanted to ask you about your sound.
“What about it?”
You don’t really sound like any other band. I’m wondering how you did that. How you got to sounding the way you do.
Four sets of shoulders shrugging at once. Then Brigette takes a shot at it.
“It’s just the way we sound when we play together. It’s always sounded like that. Maybe it’s because we have such cheap equipment. I really don’t know”.
Well what are your influences?
“I always tell people it sounds like Kim Deal singing for The Fall. Either that or Kylie Minogue singing for Pere Ubu”.
“I think Electrelane is a band we all like”.
“I was really interested in shamanism and transcendental states”.
You mean like in Native-American culture?
“Well partly that. But that’s also something that exists in Patti Smith, or gospel music, or Can. You find it in all kinds of places. These sort of incantations—like Little Richard, ‘a-wop-bop-a-loo-bop’, or speaking in tongues—I was interested in those sort of ideas of freedom and breaking into the spirit realm”.
“I just want people to have a good time, to maybe feel a little bit more freer after seeing us”.
What about the knocking stuff over? And using the mic stand to play your guitar?
“That’s just fun”.
And laying on top of the synthesizer and rolling around?
“That came from Sun Ra”.
“And besides, I have to keep playing the guitar”.



I’ve seen a lot of bands toss their equipment around onstage, and I’ve seen a lot of bands abuse their instruments, but I’ve never seen a band do so with such innocence and glee as Tunabunny. Kurt Cobain, Sonic Youth, Iggy Pop, etc. always seemed to be in such anguish as their amps toppled over. Tunabunny seems more like elementary schoolkids whose parents left them in charge of the house. Hey, let’s put the toaster in the microwave. That’ll be fun!

So you’re recording an album now?
“Yeah, Jesse asked if he could record us, so he’s set up this old 8-track reel-to-reel out at our house”.
“It sounds pretty amazing”.
How many songs do you have written?
“Um, probably 13. Either 13 or 14”.
How do you write your songs?
More shrugging. “Someone just starts playing something, and then the rest of us follow”.
“Unless someone brings something in”.
“Or someone says something and we start singing it over what we’re playing”.
“Like, ‘You Can Stop If You Want To,’ We’d been playing that chord progression for like ten minutes and then Scott started singing that part over it as a joke, saying we could stop playing it whenever we wanted to. But I liked it so I wrote a bunch of words to go with it”.
What’s that song about anyway?
“Um. . . it’s about personal freedom, and how we all have the ability to make choices. But also about how scary that can be. Because when you allow others to tell you what to do then you’re not responsible for your behavior. But if you’re in control of your life, that you leaves you wide open to all kinds of self-questioning and risk. Which, you know can make life all the more glorious and beautiful”.

Tunabunny sounds like nothing you’ve ever heard before. They say they have no plans to do anything with their album for now except give away CD-R’s of it to anyone who wants one. Find them.

Songs Dark Meat Should Consider Covering - Vol. 2

Steview Wonder - 'Superstition'

If you're looking for a reason to head out to SixFlags this summer, look no further than their American Music Awards rewind show taking place in one of the dark, air-conditioned auditoriums. If you like your history of music award show performers reduced to a series of 10-second clips--my heart broke when they cut off Prince in the middle of 'Purple Rain'--then this is the show for you. Featured performers include Mariah Carey, Britney Spears. Michael Jackson, and this guy.



The clip's from Sesame Street by the way, so even if you know the song backwards & forwards it's still worth a look.

Why this song for the Meat? Well aside from the horns, etc., it's got the same kind of war-watching dystopian hangover that the best Meat songs strive towards. Also, it might break them out of that white-boy up/down rhythm they're so prone to and help them learn how to swing.

I haven't found a song yet that might teach them how to sing. But the next time I'm over at Jim's house I'm going to hide all of his Mudhoney records, and the next time I'm over at any of those girls' houses I'm going to hide all of their yodeling records. They must have some seriously extensive yodel collections. It's the only explanation.

Incidentally, the guy who posted the youtube clip calls this the "ultimate feel-good song". Only if you don't listen to the words my friend, only if you don't listen to the words.

Going Overground with Sheryl Crow's new video

If you feel you wanna fight me
There's a chain around your mind

--Sheryl Crow
the first line of "Out of Our Heads"


Here's the link to the video. Embedding has been disabled for the video in all formats, so feel free to open the video in another window for maximum reading pleasure.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=WMBnUuiLR7U

And minimal listening pleasure. A song so bad it can almost make you decide you're in favor of the war. It has to be heard to truly be believed. The music is harmless enough. The verse is four chords on acoustic guitar set to a beat that's vaguely funky in a mid-90's white person kind of way (think Eagle Eye Cherry or Dave Matthews). The chorus then shifts into a more straightforward singalong a la "Give Peace a Chance"--which this song clearly wants to be--only with a more insistent beat. And the production at every turn is as clean and polished as some asshole's SUV sitting in line at the Chick-Fil-A drive thru at Beechwood when Athens is still in a drought.

Lyrics? Fuck yeah there's lyrics. When you're writing a protest song, one might say that the most important part of the song is its lyrics. Given a myriad of choices, Sheryl Crow goes for the easiest and most time-tested way of getting her message across: Trouble in the verse. Hope in the chorus. So let's start with what's wrong in the world, according to Sheryl Crow.

Oh, and be sure to keep it vague as possible. So nobody gets hurt.




Losing babies to genocide / Oh where's the meaning in that plight / Can't you see that we've really bought into / Every word they proclaimed and every lie, oh

You know the problem in this world today? Too many people supporting genocide. And not just genocide of adults, but something even worse--baby genocide. I'll answer your question, Sheryl Crow. There is NO meaning in that plight.

Interseting to note that Sheryl uses more pronouns without telling us what they're substitutes for than a gay person at bible camp telling us about their 'partner'. And just who is the 'we' that bought into the words 'they' proclaimed? Sheryl and her band? Sheryl and all Americans? Or did she just decide that using 'you' was too preachy, too finger-pointy, and would make it seem like she was blaming people for buying into a war started under false pretenses? See, Sheryl, I can use rhetorical questions too!

Thing is, if you believe people really did buy into every word and every lie, then, um, they kind of are to blame. And I think including yourself in that group by saying 'we,' so you won't hurt their feelings, kind of sugarcoats it. Especially when you didn't buy into every word and every lie. That's called disingenuous. It's also called manipulative. It's also called thinking the people you're talking to aren't as smart as you are. Which is fine if you think that, but you might as well come out and say it.

I'm going to cherry-pick the lyrics, but only in the interests of time & space because believe me they are all bad in the same vague, pseudo-poetical, pseudo-loving way. Sheryl Crow has put out a song that makes "We Are the World" feel like Public Enemy. In fact, let's cleanse our palette with a little PE right fucking now.

Public Enemy - Son of a Bush


Man, that felt good. So good it can almost make me forgive "Flavor of Love". It certainly gets its point across more clearly than this next verse from "Out of our Heads".

Through the dawn of darkness blindly / You have blood upon your hands / All the world will treat you kindly / But only the heart can understand, oh understand

As they like to say on the internet, WTF? Okay, last verse.

Every man is his own prophet / Oh every prophet just a man / I say all the women stand up, say yes to themselves / Teach your children best you can / Let every man bow to the best in himself / We're not killing any more / We're the wisest ones, everybody listen / 'Cause you can't fight this feeling any more, oh anymore

The problem with a song this vague, aside from the fact that it can't make up its mind between advocating either: 1) self-reliance at the expense of group thought or 2) putting the needs of the world ahead of one's own desires, is that people believing they were the wisest and that every man is his own prophet is a huge part of what got us into this mess in the first place. And any sensible analysis of our current fuckups has to take into account that the people who got us there really thought they were doing something good. Even if their logic was faulty, they still had noble intentions. This idea is important, because the chorus to this song, the part that Ms. Crow wants to get stuck in our heads, the section that every other part of this song is preparing us for, her great message, goes like this.

If we could only get out of our heads / Out of our heads /And into our hearts

So the problem is. . . we think too much? That we should just follow our hearts? Trust our gut instincts? This is the answer?

Aside from the cheap shot that I didn't realize being too much in our heads was the cause of baby genocide, isn't someone following their gut instincts in place of all tangible evidence, believing in their hearts instead of logic, kind of what got us into this problem in the first place?

The video is every bit as unfocused and clusterfucked as the song it represents. It features Sheryl and her band 'performing' the song on a stage. Set in black & white, there's no audience in the hall but plenty of smiles on the band's faces. Interspersed with the performance footage are clips of protests through the years, all of them protests in America of course, and people throughout history flashing the peace sign.

These peace flashers range from historical figures like Bobby Kennedy and Boris Yeltsin to Kobe Bryant and Fergie. Every Beatle is represented except George Harrison. The list features one war criminal--former secretary of state Henry Kissinger, who in addition to unnecessarily prolonging the Vietnam War for an additional six years (and his own political gain), also illegally bombed Vietnam's neighbor Cambodia, creating two million refugees which in turn helped lead to the rise of the Khmer Rouge, who once in power genocided nearly three million people, including lots of (gulp) babies. And the list also features a president so crooked he was convicted of several felonies and would have gone to prison had he not been pardoned. No, not George W. Bush--though he's in the video flashing the peace sign as well. We're talking about Richard Nixon.

See! the video wants us to say, everyone believes in peace! Even the people who start the wars in the first place!

Let's end with the list of all the peace flashers I was able to recognize in the video. The punctuation's random because I had to type fast.


jimmy carter
bobby kennedy
fergie
Michael moore
Donald trump
slash
allen ginsberg
harry truman
jimi Hendrix
wyclef
cindy Sherman
paul McCartney
ringo starr
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, president of iran
yassir Arafat
george w. bush
patti smith
bono
jerry Garcia
al sharpton
martin sheen
jerry Garcia
john & yoko
carlos santna
boris yeltsin
elvis
stevie wonder
Richard Nixon
Winston Churchill
Henry Kissenger
Vladimir putin
kobe Bryant
jane fonda

And do you know what all these people have in common?

Not a single peace flasher had webbed fingers.

Let's hear it for evolution!

The 2008 Flagpole Music Awards

The classiest amateur show in town made its 10th appearance last Thursday at the Morton Theater (excuse me, Morton Theatre). As uplifting as a decent church service, and as dependable as the winner in the World Music category giving props to the upcoming solstice, even if it occasionally veers towards hokiness & self-indulgence, the Fpole Music Awards are still a good bang for your Athfest buck. And even if it lasted nearly four hours, or about as long as the televised portion of the Academy Awards, I didn't start to get bored until the third hour. And I sure can't say that about the Academy Awards.

While we're on the subject, the big winners--in a Hollywood sense--would have to be Dark Meat and Of Montreal. If you're the kind of person who's interested in winners (and if you're reading a low-profile blog, how could you not be), you can check them out, along with video of the show, at Fpole's website, http://flagpole.com/Awards/. They also have video of the UGA drumline kicking off the show, which was pretty awesome, even if one of the Fpole's managing editors climbed inside my head and stole the joke I was going to make about this being the closest anyone in the audience had ever been to a football game. Too bad, because it was a pretty good joke too.

The music performers represented as wide a cross-section of Athens Music as possible: Indie, Folk, Jazz, Hippie, Rock, and Hip-Hop. And though award shows are a time for celebration and love, I have to mention that my head is still pounding from Moyuba!'s bongo-fest. Not really a drum circle, with five members it was more of a drum parabola, but their relentless tribal drumming ricocheted off the natural reverb of the theatre until it sounded like an army about to go fight a war, or at the very least go roast a pig or something.

No pictures of the actual award itself on-line, but it does feature a masterstroke of postsrutcturalist Saussere-ian wordplay by placing the word 'Flagpole' on a flag. Nice one. But an award show isn't about the award, or about winning, or which band is better, or even who plays, it's about memories, and this show was packed with them. We learned that with his deadpan wit, someone should immediately give Mercer West (spelled 'Mercre' while inside the Morton) his own late night talk show. On the other hand, we learned that Michelle Gilzenrat shouldn't be allowed within a hundred feet of a live broadcast until she gets her tourette's syndrome sorted out. And for anyone taking part in the downstairs betting pool, what were the final odds that Gilzenrat would be the potty-mouth instead of Mercer? Certainly higher than the odds that Dark Meat's Jim would be the only presenter who insisted on bringing his beer out to the podium with him when the Morton doesn't allow any food or drink into the actual theater because it's 100 years old and made out of wood. How oh so very rock'n'roll.

Actually, Michelle was a very charming, and occasionally funny, co-host. The other master of ceremonies, Clay Leverett, had his good moments--like using the sparkle mirrors on the award podium to reflect the spotlight back into the audience, along with his not-so-good moments--like always complaining about the sound guy turning down his mike, or feeling the constant need to sing along with Kenosha Kid's instrumentals. He also told us to "give it up" so many times that by the end of the show I started to think I was (pick your favorite):

a) a mormon cheerleader on prom nite
b) an altar boy right after sunday mass
c) a congressional page in an airport restroom
d) r.e.m.

Let's just go ahead and make this the negative section of our post. You know that show on local cable, "Classic City Dining"? Well they had the hosts of that show out to present some awards, and they were only slightly less brittle and smiling than they are on their show.

Oh, and when C-Fre$h said during his performance--which was great, by the way--that we've never seen anyone like him before. Um, I'm pretty sure I have. Just saying.

Alright, back to the positive.

Which just turned negative since I can't embed the awesome video from The BuddyRevelles that won one of the Sprockets music video awards, because the copy & paste capabilities of the internet/youtube are totally and utterly failing. And after ten minutes of trying, including my successful attempts at copy & pasting other videos, I refuse to take any responsibility whatsoever. Here's a link instead.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=ShvpcC9jmmQ

The song's neither here nor there, a finely assembled wall of shelving in a late 90's indie rock sense, if you're looking for that sort of thing. But the video is creative, watchable, and funny.

Other highlights included Tofu Baby trying to pronounce "Perpetual Groove" though her constant lisp as she announced the nominees for Best Jam Band, and the Of Montrealers doing their theatrical non-sequitir livening up the party thing. Have to figure Kevin was the guy dressed up in the deep-sea-diver outfit flopping around on the floor and cleaning up confetti with his legs.

The show ended with "Spring Tigers vs. Twin Tigers", a subject already covered on these pages. It was cool and different how they divided the stage in half and had each band alternate songs, but even if Spring did nothing to embarass themselves, I still gotta to with the Twins, who sounded even better live than they do on their recordings. They're just a few hooks away from doing something memorable and fantastic.

It would've been nice if the show ended there, but then they brought everyone out to sing Queen's "We Are the Champions". On a night that featured the very best of what the Athens Music Scene has to offer, I'm pretty sure that this moment--whether being sung in mocking insincerity or misguided earnestness--wasn't one of them.

Holy Fucking Athfest!

If it's the third week in June, it must be time to celebrate all things Athens music in one glorious weekend. Back in 1789, our town founders asked themselves two very important questions. What's better than Athens? and What's better than a festival? And they found two very important answers. A festival of music! and Having it in Athens! And with that Athfest was born.

A third question, why would I pay fifteen bucks to see the same bands that I can see play any other weekend for five?, thankfully went unasked.

(I know. It's not for the locals, it's for the out-of-towners. It's just a joke. It's cool).

So with 15 local venues all featuring music at once, and with cloning still illegal--if not scientifically impossible--how can a music lover deicde which shows to check out? Well, you can check out this week's Flagpole (Chris Hassiotis is excited about seeing Kuroma, because they sound like "Paul McCartney inviting Yes to come jam with Wings" Yowsa! Count me in!), or you can decide for yourself. Or you can keep reading. If you stay with me I'll try to make it sound more exciting than Michael Andrews talking about Curley Maple, who he describes as "a comfortable, back-porch sound that gets warmer and more inviting with each listen." Well in that case, I hope they play at least three sets, so I can get myself good and warm & invited!

Honestly, there's only one band I'm dying to see this Athfest. And that's Creepy.

No, not creepy like this.



Creepy like this.



Taking the best parts of Hopeforagoldensummer, Still Small Voice & the Joyful Noise, and sounding nothing at all like either one, Creepy is offering the one thing that no other band in Athens can guarantee this Athfest: Something Different. Saturday night at Flicker will be their first show. Judging by the songs on their website (www.myspace.com/creepyashell), Creepy sounds like Alice in Wonderland singing with Public Image Ltd. Or to put it more abstractly, a good Creepy music video would feature penquins and sunsets, with a glass cathedral held together with duct tape. Too abstract? Fine, then. The guitar is brittle & coated in layers of delay, the bass is full & textured, the vocals are non-existent and echoing.

Eno would love this.

You can walk into this show and have no idea what to expect--of Creepy, of their future, of yourself. An Athfest miracle.

The rest of the festival?

--I'll try and be in the front row for Dark Meat. So I can turn around to watch the look on the audience's faces. Later, I'll try and get Jim to autograph my copy of Superfuzz/Bigmuff.

--And it's times like this I curse my parents for not having any other kids. Because if I had a little sister, I could take her to go see the Modern Skirts and she would love me forever. I mean, look at this picture.



Otherwise, nothing I'll be seeing that I wouldn't be able to see in the next month or so.

Oh, except for the movies at Cine. Check out The B-52's at the Downtown Club in 1978. Most of the show is on youtube. Click on the link and swoon with nostalgia.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=VN8hV4AyNss&feature=related

Without them there wouldn't even be an Athfest. There would barely even be an Athens.

Incidentally, I won two free wristbands off WUOG by answering a trivia question. How many layers does a Yoo-Hoo drink settle into? I guessed three. It turns out De La Soul (and Schoolhouse Rock) was right. Three really is the magic number.

Tiger vs. Tiger

There's two bands in town.

Spring Tigers (www.myspace.com/springtigers).
Twin Tigers (www.myspace.com/thetwintigers).

And if old west towns weren't big enough for two sheriffs, then is Athens big enough for two Tigers? Should one have to leave? And if so, which one?

Athens Music Express breaks it down by using arbitrarily chosen categories, because that's what boys do on the internet.

Name

The name Twin Tigers is a lie. Because there's four people in the band.

The name Spring Tigers is also a lie. Because it's currently summertime.

Spring Tigers named their band after a Guided by Voices song, so they gain two points. But they lose five points for self-consciously naming themselves after a song off one of GBV's obscure 1993 7-inches (and they lose ten points if they named themselves after the version on that 'Suitcase" boxset). What's the matter ST? Too cool to name yourselves 'Motor Away'?

Verdict: TT by a whisker. (get it? whisker).

Looks

First, ST.



Wow. I think I saw these guys on Ellen the other day. Her audience loved it. The question is, do they work at Hot Topic just so they can get the discount? Or do they do it because they love the music?

Let's not even talk about the leather jacket.

Alright. Now, TT.



They seem very nice. And I'm liking that sweater.

Verdict: TT by a landslide.

Localness

ST frontman Kris isn't even from America, let alone Athens.

TT frontman Matthew grew up here and went to ACC public schools. Can't get much more local than that. And before Twin Tigers he was the main guy for Psychic Hearts, who were awesome. Loses points for changing his last name to 'Rain' though. But he would've gained points if he'd spelled it 'Reign'.

Verdict: TT seem to be doing pretty well so themselves so far.

Sounds

TT's touchstones revolve around the hazy psychedelia of My Bloody Valentine, Animal Collective, etc. Vocals are a little glammy, a little on the fey side (Bowie, not Tina). They're not reinventing the wheel, but at the same time their sound isn't overtly commercial. Still, it gets kind of hard to tell sometimes exactly which band has the english guy singing for them. And there's a huge cloud hanging over their head with the word DEERHUNTER written all over it in big pink letters.

ST's music would fit nicely into the soundtrack of whatever the big overprivileged white teen tv drama is these days. I'm getting the feeling these guys had to call a band meeting on the day The O.C. got cancelled. The singer uses the same snotty intonation as grade-schoolers do on a playground. But I'll bet you money his dad cannot beat up my dad. Also, negative 1000 points for claiming to be influenced by Syd Barrett and Wire when you really sound like Phantom Planet, or a more sober and high-pitched Strokes, or one more Plain White T's.

Overall, there's a cetain plastic feeling that hangs over their music. Which would be interesting if ST loved plastic, or if they hated plastic, or if they spent their whole lives trying to escape the plastic all around them only to end up with assholes like me calling them plastic. Unfortunately, they're content to just be plastic. Which isn't very interesting at all.

Verdict: TT for honesty, and for choosing the (slightly) harder path to stardom.

Final Judgement

Hey, wait a second. Athens isn't that small, and if we can have a Dark Meat and a Christopher's Liver, then why can't we have two tigers? They can both stay! And maybe they can even play a show together at halftime when UGA plays the Clemson Tigers! And eat Frosted Flakes together with Tony the Tiger while they read Tiger Beat! And cover 'Eye of the Tiger'!

That would be gr-r-r-eat!

Besides, I'll eat my own shit if Spring Tigers is still living and playing here 4 years from now.

Sphinxie @ Rye Bar - June 7th

15 thoughts about Sphinxie

1) Sphinxie has a myspace page. You can go there if you want to.

www.myspace.com/youaresphinxie.

2) It doesn't really work as an advertisement. It's more like grafitti. Or an inscrutable billboard.

3) Sphinxie is building a career the way insurgents build their bombs.

4) They don't really belong on Mtv. More like the Discovery Channel, or National Geographic.

5) Here is a picture. It is a picture of a cellphone.



6) Did Patti Smith ever sing with Beat Happening?

7) There are three members of Sphinxie; a person who sings, a person who plays bass, and a person who drums.

8) Maybe the way to make music that is different & unique is to actually be different & unique. I mean as a person, living your day-to-day life in a constant mix of wonder & irritation.

9) Because when their microphone kept crapping out, when the staff at the Rye Bar was hopeless & elsewhere, and the man in the Hawaiian shirt was starting to heckle, they just decided to play louder and sing as a group.

10) Because most bands in this town are no different than the bum on the street begging for some of your change, begging for more of your time, certain in the knowledge that you couldn't have anything more important to do in your life than to listen to them. The only difference is the bands want your attention & money so they can quit their jobs and live in a mansion. The bum just wants some booze, or maybe some crack. Which makes the bum smarter than the bands. Shit, at least he's going to have a good time.

11) Wasn't early Pavement fronted by the Carter Family?

12) Because their set is so short and mysterious that as soon as it's over you want to hear it again, to make sure you really heard what you think you did.

13) Here's another picture. I don't know what it means.



14) Because this show was so transcendent that the next time I see Sphinxie play I wouldn't be shocked in the least if all three members fucking levitated.

15) It's going to take a long time to get bored with Sphinxie.

Songs Dark Meat Should Consider Covering - Vol. 1 of a series

Fleetwood Mac's 'Tusk'




Granted, it would be hard to convince the band members to gradually come in one at a time (The Meat loves the all-at-once skronk. Dynamics are for pussies!). But the tribal drums, the marching band horns, the mix of male & female vocals. It's all there. Just waiting. Can't you hear it? And if you look close enough, Mick Fleetwood even looks a little bit like Jim!

Paul Thomas - Portraits of the New Subconscious @ Cine, Sat. May 24th

Paul Thomas, Athens’ very own Andy Warhol (or is it Andy Kaufman? Andy Griffith?) put on an art show at Cine that was half installation piece, half music. The portraits themselves, film loops of intense close-up faces which are then multi-exposed and slowed down, are the best thing the artist has ever done. Unsettling in their beauty, unsettling in their detail, unsettling in their lighting, unsettling in their horror, these are a long way past their most obvious historical antecedent, Warhol’s screen tests back in the sixties.

The musical accompaniment featured Thomas (maybe Andy Gibb?) and friend Christopher Ray constructing a droning atmosphere out of samples and synthesizers, which were then sped up or slowed down to match the action taking place in the center screen, which featured film trailers from the 60’s and 70’s for exploitation B-movies with titles like “Bad Girls Go To Hell” or “Deadly Weapons,” provided by Michael Oliveri. With the portraits projected on either side of the main screen, the faces seemed to change expressions in response to whatever was taking place in the movies.

So it turns out the ‘new subconscious’ is pretty similar to the old one. Sex & Violence, Tits & Death, Freud would be proud (or maybe Andy Dick?). The film trailers have more breasts than a farm of Purdue chickens, more knives than a troop of boy scouts, more violence against women than Super Bowl Sunday, more sex than a thirteen-year-old’s imagination, more rapes than Milledge Avenue during rush week, and more deaths than a Florida nursing home at Christmastime.

At the very least, it was funnier than Juno.

There were two ways to experience the show, in a 15-minute burst, or to sit through the whole 2 hours. For the people who chose the first option, they left a little more amused, a little more disturbed, and a little more entertained. For the people who stayed for the whole show, the experience gradually began to shift from entertaining to excruciating. Even Thomas (Andy Richter?) went outside halfway through the show and didn’t come back until it was over. The sheer absurdity of boob after boob, of mutilation after mutilation, eventually gave way to a kind of numbness, a blank nihilism that can’t be countered. By the end of the show, you felt like you needed a shower.


In spite of the void it portrays, or perhaps because of the void it portrays, one could argue that ‘Portraits of the New Subconscious’ does reflect what it means to be an American in early 2008--certainly more than the Don Chambers show taking place over at Tasty World the same night. After all, we are the first people to live through a war that is taking place, with the exception of the soldiers and their friends and families, primarily in our subconscious. After an hour of watching, I wanted to look away. And I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty thinking about the people who are surrounded by this every day, but who aren't able to get up and walk out of the theatre after fifteen minutes, let alone two hours.

Maybe it would sit a whole lot better if the show traded in its definite article and called itself ‘Portraits of a New Subconscious.’ Because while nobody can deny the show’s truth, it remains only a partial truth. There is a lot more to our subconscious, as well as our conscious, than blankness, boobs, and battering. Any art that suggests otherwise is only telling you half of the story.

Paul Thomas’ show Saturday night displayed his genius in full, but his most brilliant gesture of the night may have been when he got up and went outside.

The New Sound of Numbers @ Caledonia May 19th (w/Paper Tanks)

One of the most interesting bands in Athens just got a lot more interesting. The New Sound of Numbers (aka Sound Houses) unveiled their new line-up this past Monday night at the Caledonia and they were a revelation.

Past NSofN shows have been uneven, uncertain, and all too often uneventful. As someone outside the group, I have no business speculating on what’s been going on behind the scenes---and as a small, self-indulgent, non-journalistic blog, I have no business going up to anyone and asking questions--but lead NSofNumber Hannah Jones has evolved from a deer-in the-headlights performer into a more confident, self-assured front woman. She’s never going to be Bono and start swinging from the rafters, but there’s a sense of freedom and abandon in her performance that we haven’t seen before. Her vocals feel more relaxed. And to all the people who have described her singing as ‘bored,’ I know what you’re saying and why you’re saying it, but there’s a difference between sounding bored and sounding like an angel who has seen beyond the empty promises of heaven. There’s a texture in Hannah Jones’ voice now, or maybe it’s the inflection of her eyes, that says she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Previous comparisons to The Raincoats were unfair to the Raincoats. Now that comparison is unfair to The New Sound of Numbers.

The new songs reflect this growth as well. They’ve progressed from two chords in a song to three chords, and from one note melodies to two note melodies--the NSofN equivalent of adding a string section. Where previous songs seemed content to pace back and forth in a sparsely decorated room, the new ones occasionally go up and down the stairs, even if they never leave the building--let alone the neighborhood.

They played a cover of Gary Numan’s ‘Cars’ that made perfect sense. It sounded like a lost NSofN song, the kind of thing you can’t pull off unless you know who you are.

Reasons for growth? I blame the drummer. NSofN has turned downright groovy, becoming a dance band in the sense that Pylon is a dance band--adding Randy Bewley guitar with them means less than you think it does but more than you don‘t. The band were having so much fun playing their last song that they didn’t want to stop. This says there’s a ‘Sister Ray’ inside NSofN that is dying to get out.

But.

For a band that just overhauled their sound from an overcast afternoon into a rainbow, it’s understandable they would want to change their name. And having read the explanation--new personnel, different methods of making music, etc.--on their website I’m not going to argue on behalf of keeping their name. . .

But.

If you’re going to trade in a name that is bright, distinctive, and original you’d better come back with one better than the flat, anonymous-sounding, shittyband-reminding ‘Sound Houses’. The name comes from a phrase in a Francis Bacon essay, quoted in full on the band’s website. As a general rule, if you feel the need to explain why the name of your band is a good one, then it’s probably not as good as you think it is. It’s a shitty name because it isn’t fun to say. It’s a shitty name because it doesn’t jumpstart your imagination. It’s a shitty name because there isn’t any mystery, no sense of surprise. But ultimately, it’s a shitty name because this band deserves better.

Though it’s still better than naming your band Vic Chesnutt.

Paper Tanks went on afterwards. They want to rip open your heart and feed it to you without ever raising their voice, and they are totally fearless. If you find yourself at a show and they’re about to go on, you have a very important decision to make--not about them, but about yourself.

Going Overground with Gavin DeGraw

Gavin DeGraw's new song, "In Love With A Girl," (note the heterosexual emphasis, the posters on the walls at Abercrombie must be starting to make Gavin a little nervous) may taste like a bowl of white rice followed by a warm glass of water, but the video is the most subversive thing you're likely to see on tv this week.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=ftZ0jpYdn70&feature=related

The video is divided into two overlapping sections. The part where Gavin plays the song with his band is about as worthless as you'd imagine. However, the second part tells a story about Gavin and the girl he's in love with, the girl mentioned in the title whose greatest feature, according to Gavin, is her ability to understand him--which means she's definitely smarter than I am.

The story opens with Gavin's lovegirl locking the doors to the southern California department store where she works. Throwing off her blue workapron, no longer an employee, no longer a wage-slave to whatever company she works for, she text-messages Gavin to come meet her, where they proceed to turn the after-hours store into their own personal playground.



They don’t call their friend with a van to load off thousands of dollars worth of stuff. Freed from their jobs, left in the store to do anything they want, they instantly revert to a childlike state of play. All they want from the store is the chance to goof around with the video cameras, to jump up and down on the beds and throw lots of pillows. They want to ride in shopping carts and try on sunglasses without anybody hassling or telling them to behave. We see them hugging every thirty seconds and their liberation is contagious. Even the scene in the lingerie department seems innocent. You can watch Mtv for 24 hours and not see any two people happier than this.

There’s a security guard who spends the first-half of the video sleeping. When he finally wakes up and goes looking for the kids, they evade him effortlessly. He’s part of the old order, someone who prays to the twin altars of rules & decorum. He cares a great deal about this job, about this store, about the things in this store, and his caring becomes a weight that he wears in his face, that settles in his shoes and makes him slow. Too slow to catch the kids he is chasing, who are young, free, and care about nothing except pleasure. They are beyond their parents’ world, where the value of something is defined by how much it costs. To Gavin and his girl, the only value something has is how much pleasure they can take from it. And to deny themselves the opportunity to make some money out of their situation, or to acquire some more possessions, is the greatest freedom of all.

Their parents would probably consider it insane to pass up such an opportunity. The kids probably consider it insane that their parents voluntarily dedicated their lives to working and spending, acquiring and dying, without ever learning how to enjoy themselves. Intentionally or not, Gavin DeGraw’s new video is tracing the outlines of a revolution we are still in the process of articulating--a revolution that will lead us out of the same boring circular work-spend-work-spend patterns and into a deeper and more rewarding spirit of play.



Now if his bloated corpse of a record company would just let us upload the goddamned video.

Ken Will Morton @ Craftravaganza 5/10

Best early Bob Dylan impersonation in town, right down to the capo and the metal harmonica neckbrace. The between-song jokes were funny enough to make you wonder whether he'd taken the time to write them the night before. But the jokes resonated more than the actual songs--which were sub-Dylan in their poetry, sub-Springsteen in their portrait of working-class life (apparently it involves lots of drinking), and sub-Petty in their slavish devotion to both Dylan and Springsteen. Cool converse sneakers, though. But seriously, has this guy ever been seen in a McDonald's? Does he even own a television? For a guy in his late 20's he sounds a lot like my dad.

If you love Ken Will Morton, find out when his birthday is and buy him a decent book of contemporary poetry (may I recommend The Man Suit, by Zachary Schomburg?) and any record made after 1974. For someone who so obviously loves words and music, he has a lot of catching up to do.

Tunabunny at Go Bar - 5/9

When exactly did the church behind the GoBar start charging for parking? Had to park three blocks away just to make it to the Tunabunny show last night, and only three cars even bothered using the goddamned (or it it 'godblessed'?) lot. Hope the Christians enjoy their extra fifteen dollars of income.

The whole sad waste made me feel like grabbing the nearest rock and shattering one of their tax-free stained-glass windows, but seeing Tunabunny made me glad I left those windows alone.

The bass player couldn’t decide whether he wanted to stand up or sit down. The drummer couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to use her cymbals. And the two singers couldn’t decide if they wanted to win the audience over with kindness or bash them into submission with feedback. Within thirty seconds of their first song, Tunabunny is already beyond several thousand conventions in local Athens band music. Two females (girls? Women? Babes? Chicks?) playing electric guitars? Using a synthesizer for percussion? One singer using her guitar as a hammer against her microphone stand, against the drumset, against the other singer’s guitar? And the other singer using her voice to try and shatter the windows of the bar, if not the vacant looks on the faces all around her?

With most bands, figuring out their sound is as simple as figuring out which store they came out of at the mall. Oh, that band must have gone to the alt-country store. Hey, that band must have gone to the smooth indie-rock store. But Tunabunny is a completely different animal. They seem to have gone to the mall just to pinch the mall cops and try to escape, or to beat up little kids in the arcade and take away their quarters. The kind of band who went to the mall and just decided to drift.

Tunabunny is a confusing mix of accessibility and incomprehension. A band that giggles when things aren’t going well, but inadvertently bumps into each other when they are. A band that one minute seems about to invent a new language for music, but in the next seems content to stroll through the same parks and gardens that invented them. Even at their weirdest, they still want to be loved. But even at their most conventional, they manage to sound otherworldly. In retrospect, it all seems so simple—two guitars, bass, drums, an occasional keyboard—but I can’t for the life of me tell you what they sound like or what exactly they are trying to accomplish. In the sense that it could have fallen apart at any moment—that any one person in the group may have decided to say fuck it and just walk off the stage forever—it was one of the worst shows I’ve ever seen. But considering that I couldn’t look away, that my bladder was full and cramping by the third song and I never once considered heading to the bathroom until they had finished, in that sense it was one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long time.

And I can’t wait to see what they try to do next.