Suck it hatas!

So I was feeling pretty patriotic today. You see, I work at my Dad’s job during the summer in the Weapons of Mass Destruction department.  Today I was manning the booth of one of the presentation rooms and this dude was giving a briefing about the US of A. Supposedly a representative from each of the member states is supposed to give a presentation about his/her country in order to promote huggies and kissies and world harmony. Something along those lines. Anyway, during said dude’s presentation he expounded briefly upon the history of the U.S. and whatnot, and for some reason I just felt this strange uncharacteristic pride well up in my chest and I just wanted to put on a cowboy hat and hug the flag. Hell, Dick Cheney even began to look a little less reptilian in my mind.

WTF is this thing on my faaaaaaaace!!!

Anyway, given the circumstances, I have decided to post this song by DOM (or like, maybe ‘Dom’, I’ve seen it both ways). The Dom out of DOM has had a fucked up childhood, but he also has an awesome ear for hooks and a startling command of le omnichord. This is one of those lo-fi bands that actually could end up on the radio so, pay attention O.K?

Yes, Living in America is “facetious” and jokey, but we Americans have good senses of humor. Remember Sarah Palin? Goodness.

Living in America – DOM

“Isn’t”… in a good way.

Deerhunter’s promo campaign was covert and clever and involved a little person. This only serves to highlight my anger and dejection at having not been a part of it. I missed it! I missed the opportunity to be part of the brilliant xerox art poster posting challenge and the chance to scotch tape pictures of one of my favorite bands all over the cow sheds and tractors and shooting ranges (I am kind of lying here… there is actually only one shooting range, but I hate varying quantifiers in lists) of my sleepy German town.

Fortunately however, despite my inaction/ignorance I have still had the truly enjoyable experience to listening to the new single off of what will undoubtedly be the aptly titled ‘Halcyon Digest’. After last years release of the almost flawlessly beautiful ‘Rainwater Cassette Exchange’ I have waited with bated breath for any small hint of Deerhunter’s impending LP. I wondered which of the diverse and novel musical elements presented in the EP would translate to the full length album.

“Revival” is many things. It includes many of the percussive elements I loved in songs like “Rainwater Cassette Exchange” and “Game of Diamonds and gives the song and admirable groovy-ness. The vocals, although not totally clean are much more clear and crisp than previous efforts. These elements compound to create a dreamy yet lucid and surprisingly accessible listen.

However none of the things I’ve just written really express the images I see while listening to this song (cue “Dancing about architecture” quote interchangeably attributed to Miles Davis, Elvis Costello or Frank Zappa… this is a fun fact), so I will describe said images via the medium of language.

Bradford and Co. are fasting on a Mesa  (a side note: they are wearing ponchos). You can tell they are fasting because the thought bubbles above their heads contain nothing but big-macs and carrot cake and other such cholesterol rich comestibles. Every night they make a fire and wait for a “great spirit” descend upon them. It never does. They weep. Although their persistence is admirable, enlightenment only comes when one of the Deerhunter men catches sight of his friend in the clear blue water surrounding the flat mountain. They raise their hands, rejoicing in their connection to the greater consciousness through their acknowledgment of being lesser parts of a whole. Bright glowing light shines from their pores like splashing rain and engulfs them. It spreads over the mesa, and then the countryside and then the whole world. It is beautiful. Everyone hugs everyone else. The end.

So. Ahem. That was weird; but it’s the best I can do at the moment. This song isn’t your typical Deerhunter, but it “isn’t” in a good way. I suppose the title “Revival” is quite appropriate and, come to think of it, song titles serve more than a decorative purpose.

Revival – Deerhunter

Oh No Ono!

I’ve mentioned these guys at various points recently, but they were mostly short, frivolous sort of recommendations. Now however, I’ve decided to forgo subtlety and just do a quick concise album review.

The other day I was watching an interview with Tame Impala. As is customary of these televised “up-and-coming-band” interviews, the journalist asked the musicians what kind of music they enjoyed best.   The lead singer replied saying, “We like the kind of music that is the result of one person or a few people constructing an awesome symphony of sounds. You can layer your own voice 700 times for half a second if you want, and we just love that kind of music.”

I love that kind of music too. Don’t get me wrong, I truly believe that some of the best albums ever recorded have stayed true to the conventional, hook-oriented, verse-chorus-verse song structures, and these albums are enduring and beautiful. However, sometimes it’s wonderful to lose yourself in something big and complicated and colorful.

Eggs finds Oh No Ono moving away from the more dance-y and electronic sensibilities showcased in their debut Yes, towards a more orchestrated and layered direction. The string and horn compositions are sweeping and robust, contrasting and beautifully complimenting the delicate soprano (or perhaps even gender ambiguous) vocals. Nevertheless, there is a marked emphasis on solid songwriting throughout so things are experimental without becoming utterly incomprehensible.

Despite this adherence to structure however, there is still a bit of a ‘found art’ quality to Eggs. “Eleanor Speaks” ends in strangely appropriate birdsong, “Eve” begins with some sort of siren and “Internet Warrior” incorporates the sound of a dove cooing. It’s unexpected elements like these that make the album sound really diverse and whole your interest for the whole 53 minutes.

All in all I think that Eggs is a cohesive, melodic and beautiful listen; and an essential for anyone who likes big, bold, rich music. It some ways it reminds me of a modern-day Wagner Opera, full of melodrama, intrigue and romance. Wagner is quoted as saying, “I write music with an exclamation point!” I think this holds true for Oh No Ono as well.

The LDN Chronicles: 2

Day 2

The next morning we arose early to take full advantage of the coming day of shopping. Since our hotel is just a short walk from Camden High Street, we were among the first to begin perusing the various wares on show. The market (and even some of the surrounding shops) are great places to find deals. However, I offer three bits of advice that I accrued in my pursuit of the best and cheapest clothes:

1. Don’t be afraid to look around. One thing you will notice is that there is a lot of overlap with regards to what is sold at the market. Don’t assume that just because the stalls are selling the same thing that they are selling them for the same price! A lot of times I would see a dress that was £30 at one stall sell for £25-20 somewhere else in the market.

2. Don’t be afraid to bargain. Many of the shopkeepers are willing to negotiate the price of their goods with you as long as you keep the discount to a reasonable range. If by some chance you meet someone who isn’t willing to bargain, never fear! You can probably find someone else selling the same thing who is willing to!

So after conquering the market and making tons of super-cheap and awesome purchases we made our way back to the hotel for lunch (which, I must add, was graciously paid for by one of our parties’ grandmother).

After lunch we headed to one London’s more conventional shopping mainstays; Covent Garden. It was nice, of course, but I just didn’t feel like spending exorbitant amounts of money in stores whose American counterparts offer much better deals (i.e. Urban Outfitters, Aldo, Mango etc.) I did however plan to spend at least a (semi) exorbitant amount of money in Rockit, but since last year they’ve really marked up their stuff. Last November I bought an awesome blue and green Cosby sweater there for £10 and KG bought a beautiful old hounds-tooth coat for a similarly reasonable price. When I browsed the same selection of old man sweaters I had enjoyed the year before, I was disgusted to see how much they were marked up. I mean, who pays £25 for a wool cardigan in summer? Suffice it to say I was not very pleased.

After such a crushing disappointment on the sartorial front, the only thing that could fill the void in my life was a milkshake from Candy Cakes. If you can get past the mediocre service, creepy mint green walls and blasting pop music, it’s a pretty awesome place with delicious cupcakes and other fattening things.

Once we were sufficiently sugared-up we headed to an awesome little karaoke place in Soho called Lucky Voice. Although my friends thought it looked a bit shady (with its rather nondescript subterranean entrance), they were surprised when we entered the sleek, wood-paneled, vaguely Japanese reception area. We were promptly shown to a private karaoke room that would be ours for the next two hours. Complete with pom-poms, afro wigs, and a choice of various mood lighting schemes the place was pretty fancy. I must admit, dear reader, those two hours were among the most fun of the trip. We danced, we sang (read: yelled), we rocked with the fury of any of the many legendary bands to come out of London’s humble streets, and we didn’t actually pay that much for it either!

As we walked back to the train station in our post-karaoke glow, the whole of England glowed with us. The English team had just won against Slovenia in the World Cup and tons of happy football fans (in various states of inebriation) flooded the streets reveling in their shared national pride.

It was a good day.

MUSIC: Daisy – Fang Island

I actually bought the LP at Rough Trade while we were in London. I highly recommend it to anyone who still likes a really nice kinda old school guitar riff now and again. A lot of people are calling this “stadium rock of the future” (you know, kinda like Surfer Blood), but that label kind of connotes the 80′s hair and crazy shallowness we’re all trying to forget. Sure this stuff is epic and anthemic enough for a stadium (and total karaoke material which is why it is appropriate for this post), but it’s got wicked heart too. Think John Farnham as opposed to Gene Simmons.

Mixcast #3: Dreaming of the South

Taking a bit of break from the LDN Chronicles to post another one of these babies as per the request of a certain friend of mine. I just got the results back from my final exams, and although I am very, VERY happy with what I’ve achieved there’s still kinda this feeling of, “Well, now what?” This mix reflects that; contentment and relief tempered with a slight melancholy. It’s all about nuance, I think.

(right click)

Track List:

1. Marchin’ In//Lo-Fi-Fnk

2. Eleanor Speaks//Oh No Ono

3. Infinite Desert//Delorean

4. Better Than Love (Jamaica Remix)//HURTS

5. So Light Is Her Footfall (Breakbot Remix)//Air

6. Most Wanted//Cults

7. Walking Through That Door//Future Islands

The LDN Chronicles: 1

I just (and I mean “just” in the most loose definition of the word; as in I’ve been home nearly a week) returned from probably the best trip ever. As my first semi-independent holiday, I think my friends and I have proven to be quite the competent travel planners! Anyway, here’s my account. I hope you enjoy it!

Day 1

As I woke up on Tues. 22nd I couldn’t be more elated by the fact that I would soon be leaving rainy cold Germany. Seriously people. How unfair is it that, even though it was mid-June, I felt it necessary to wear a heavy wool cardigan and jeans to survive the 15 second walk from my door to the car. Suffice it to say ’twas a sad, sad state of affairs.

In any case upon arrival I was reunited with my wonderfully Swiss (a word for which “punctual” is also a synonym) friend and occasional contributor, KG. We made our way through check-in and customs rather uneventfully, the only slight delay being my encounter with an anal German customs officer who was visibly suffering from a bad case of male PMS.

But friends, despite this minor hiccup KG and I soldiered on with the type of optimism only found in giddy teenage girls about to do something new and exciting.

Once our group was completed with the addition of my other friends Ilyena and Kasia we all sat down to catch up and do the whole giggly girl talking thing. Ilyena shared a bunch of stories about her transcendent two month wilderness course  while Kasia chimed in with her own additions (having heard Ilyena’s stories the day before).

The plane ride was smooth and when we touched down in Old Blighty the excitement and anticipation was visible in everyone’s faces. Being the poor students we are, we opted to take the normal Piccadilly line train into the city rather than the Heathrow express. I will not lie dear reader, the train was crowded and hot, made only worse by the fact that we four were still clad in our gloomy stuffy Munich attire. Attempts were made to remedy the situation, but since half of us were wearing literally transparent shirts  (not like, plastic though… don’t get the wrong idea) under our sweaters we erred on the side of decency and remained fully clothed deciding to just face the heat.

When we emerged out of the cavernous Tube to revel in the vibrant air of Camden we immediately knew we had chosen the right place to stay. Although this part of London’s underground cred has begun to erode, assaulted by the waves of tourists (ourselves included) flocking to its famous market, it still maintains remnants of its counter-culture association. As you walk down Camden High street you see punk after brütal punk on the sidewalk holding signs and handing out brochures for tattoo parlors and Dr. Marten’s stores and other suck “punky” stuff. I found the irony of this advertising scheme  utterly hilarious. I mean, here are people who are singularly defined by their devotion to non-conformism and being anti-establishment, acting their part in a consumerist advertising scheme. I mean think about it, they are capitalizing on their anarchism! Perhaps I’m over-thinking it and the punk subculture has just been reduced to a fashion style, but  I kept on getting these mental images of like, a furniture store add with some Johnny Rotten-esque character on the front giving the cheesy smile and the thumbs up alongside text reading something along the lines of “Lenny’s Couch Barn: Punk Compliant”… As if a Mohawk is some sort of endorsement. Funny, funny. Ha ha.

In addition to the tourists and the punk advertising schemes, another way Camden has changed is that it now has places like the Holiday Inn to stay at which, coincidentally,  provided our accommodations for the week. Only cementing the fact of Camden’s transformation from the pseudo-bohemian slightly sleazy underbelly of London to a respectable tourist district was the diversity of our fellow hotel guests. I saw people from every age group and various walks of life passing through the lobby. It was pretty cool. Anyway, after speedily unpacking and changing in to more appropriate attire we ventured out into Camden to explore a bit of the market and find something to sate our ravenous hunger (we are growing girls after all). As we perused scores of trinkets and jewelry and ridiculously awesome t-shirts I forbade myself from buying anything that day, a pact I am happy to say I dutifully kept.

Once our hunger had gotten the better of us we headed down toward the Lock to get some food. Now, time to dispel a popular myth. I have seen countless videos and web-pages devoted to the pursuit of cheap food in London; all working under the assumption that cheap food is hard to find. This is just not true. I’d say that with the exception of maybe two days my friends and I ate dinner for less that 10 pounds. Our best find? Eating at the Camden market food stalls. Our first night we ate delicious HUGE Quesadillas for 5 pounds each. Honestly, how can you beat sitting on Camden Lock when the sun is setting and the water is all sparkly in the sun, eating delicious food that’s made right in front of your face? Well you can’t really beat it, especially not for 5 pounds!

After our frugal and magnificent meals we headed back to the hotel. Although our aim was to retire to early allow Ilyena to get the rejuvenating sleep she needed to combat her jet lag, we just ended up talking all night about everything. I guess excitement has a way of distracting you from less important things… like sleep. In any case, we eventually succumbed to our tiredness and slumbered, dreaming of the awesome day that was sure to follow.

MUSIC: Kids – Mark Foster

Since this is (mostly) a music blog I thought it appropriate to accompany each post with a new (or not so new depending on how energetic I’m feeling) musical find. This is a song from none other that our favorite Foster the People front-man Mark Foster. It’s sun soaked chords and plaintive request of “Don’t stop takin’ me places” is the perfect accoutrement to the beginning of our vision quest.

Next Time: Shopping Day One!