MFNW

I want my MFNW: Part 2

Monday, September 13th, 2010 | musiX, pdX | 2 Comments

You mean there’s more? I’m running on three hours of sleep, pretending I’m 23 again. I’m not 23 again. Maybe I am 23 again, because I’m hell-bent on seeing cuddly blog babes Surfer Blood. These kids from West Palm Beach, Florida look like kids … except for the frizzy-haired cowbellist, who looks like John Oates circa 1977.

The band’s debut Astro Coast is still holding up well for me. It’s a great guitar record. I’m guessing many a fickle blogger has spat the band out since the record’s release in January. Maybe not. Live, the band sounded pretty true to the album, except noisier. Vocalist John Paul Pitts croons like Steven Patrick Morrissey. The songs are catchy and the riffs air-guitarable (though I don’t recommend it), and every now and then the members dived into Afro-Cuban rhythm breaks or ear-piercing, guitar freakouts. I talked to a couple of people who were bored by Surfer Blood, or compared them to Weezer. Impossible. The members of Surfer Blood are too well-adjusted to sound like Weezer. And they have a cowbellist who looks like John Oates circa 1977.

I’m faced with the difficult decision of choosing between seeing Shonen Knife or The Gories—why does life have to be so hard? I decide on the latter, knowing I’ll also get to see San Fran’s Thee Oh Sees, but also knowing that I’ll have to brave the line/claustrophobic conditions at Dante’s. And Haunted George. I make it through the line, and survive the doorman’s unorthodox system for letting people in and out. I think he’s stoned. The place is already packed. Haunted George is already playing and is essentially the one-man band of Steve Pallow, who bashes an old snare and kick drum with his feet while he chugs psychobilly riffs on a guitar. He’s got another guy playing the same psychobilly riffs behind him. It’s not really my thing. Maybe I’d like it more if I had a neck tattoo and a head full of pomade.

I saw Thee Oh Sees open up for Jay Reatard (RIP) last year, and they absolutely blew the place apart (and upstaged Reatard and his cronies). Former Coachwhip-former Pink and Brown-current Oh Sees frontman John Dwyer does not fuck around. The band’s spastic garage rock is as unmanageable as his thick coif—vocals heavy with echo, guitars that slice through like a laser, and songs that rarely follow the verse-chorus-verse format. Plus, Dwyer is a freak on stage (and for some reason reminds me of Crispin Glover). Simply put—I would never want to be the band that follows Thee Oh Sees …

… which is what The Gories are. The Motor City trio formed back in 1986, disbanded in 1992, and now find themselves again ripping through sets of blues-based garage rock. And they kick out one jam after another, opening with “Hey Hey, We’re The Gories” (note: bands with theme songs rule). I must say The Gories sound timid compared to Thee Oh Sees, and I secretly wish I could teleport over to Mississippi Studios for the Shonen Knife show. Then again, if it wasn’t for The Gories, Thee Oh Sees would not exist. Wrap your head around that one. As the set winds on, the members of The Gories are playing like kids again, while the faces of the audience-members become increasingly haggard … save for the two members of Surfer Blood I spot in the crowd—they still look like schoolboys. They definitely got an education tonight. Meanwhile I feel like I aged a decade over the course of four days. See you next year, MFNW.

Surfer Blood performing “Twin Peaks” at Wonder Ballroom during MusicfestNW

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I want my MFNW: Part 1

Saturday, September 11th, 2010 | musiX, pdX | 1 Comment

I’m walking up Broadway to the Hotel Lucia, where my MFNW wristband (or bracelet, if you want to get all girly about it) awaits. This thin, white plastic band will handcuff me to MFNW all weekend, guaranteeing that I will drink copious amounts of beer, eat Taco Bell at least twice, get very little sleep, and essentially make all kinds of bad decisions. Oh yeah, I’ll see some music, too.

As I approach the hotel’s entrance I see a woman and two men walking the opposite direction. I freeze, mouth agape. “I think that was Chrissie Hynde,” I tell my friend. He’s already 10 feet ahead of me, unaware of what just transpired. “I’m going to go ask her.” I retreat, even jog a little. I get within a few feet of them and I stop. Why did I stop? Because I’m afraid that a) if it isn’t Chrissie Hynde, this woman will think I’m some sort of a jackass and b) if it is Chrissie Hynde, she will think I’m some sort of a jackass. Why does this bother me? Because I’m a jackass. But that was absolutely, without a doubt, Chrissie Hynde.

I’d only been to the Crystal Ballroom once before to see The Hold Steady. It’s cavernous. The wooden floor bounces. James Brown has performed there. The Electric Prunes, too (not together, though that would have been incredible). Ted Leo and the (& the, + ) Pharmacists have already started their set. I’m not super familiar with his newer music—the only album I own is Treble in Trouble—but this is rock ‘n’ roll. And Leo shreds on guitar. And the large crowd loves it. And that was Chrissie Hynde. I pogo in the beer line, order a $3.75 PBR (which, with a squeeze of lime, turns into a $6 Corona), pogo some more. Repeat three times. And Leo + Pharmacists exit the stage.

The Thermals get better looking with each album (is that even possible?). And they played a lot of songs from their latest, equally attractive, album Personal Life. But before doing so, they led off with “Here’s Your Future” from their masterstroke The Body, the Blood, the Machine. I think even the uninitiated could point out The Thermals’ evolution based solely on this set. The no-frills punk of songs like “No Culture Icons.” The lithe rage of “St. Rosa and the Swallows.” The it’s-always-sunny-in-Portland power pop of “Now We Can See.” And the economical, moody New Wave of “Never Listen to Me” from Personal Life. But every song bounces (more so than the floor). And The Thermals have turned into great performers as well. Always fun. Kicking off the encore with a cover of Weezer’s “My Name is Jonas” didn’t hurt, either. Rivers Cuomo keeps getting weirder. The Thermals keep getting better.

Decisions, decisions. Do I listen to the little angel on my shoulder and see David Bazan? Or do I go with the devil telling me to go to the Baroness show at Dante’s? I listen to neither, and instead listen to my friend who’s hell-bent on seeing Bazan. I’m game … besides isn’t Bazan more Godless than the four members of Baroness combined?

I’m glad—nay, ecstatic—that Bazan is playing with a band again. I love his voice. I love the weird little chords and dynamics he inserts into his songs. But most of his songs trudge along at the same pace—without more guitars, it would be nap-time. Of course, there are his lyrics. And the obligatory Q-&-A sessions, where members of the audience ask Bazan why he turned his back on Christianity. Oh, and he does write some great songs (Pedro the Lion’s Achilles Heel is one of my favorites). It was a lively performance, and I’m pretty sure Bazan is more exited than I am to be playing with a full band again. Because he said so.

I’m getting tired. I pull out my notebook and scan my MFNW checklist: Copious amounts of beer? Check. Taco Bell? Very little sleep? Check and check. And deciding not to talk to Chissie Hynde would definitely be considered a bad decision (because that was definitely Chrissie Hynde). Check. See you tomorrow, MFNW.

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MFNW + TDoL = NSFW

Thursday, September 9th, 2010 | musiX, pdX | 1 Comment

I’m not really sure what that headline means. But I like it. The Days of Lore will be covering this year’s MusicfestNW like a solitary glitter glove. Stay tuned here, as well as for occasional Tweets and Facebook updates.

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The Thermals get personal

Tuesday, September 7th, 2010 | musiX, pdX | 2 Comments

Betcha didn’t see that headline coming. I admit I’ve had a bit of a crush on The Thermals for a few years … who in their right mind wouldn’t?

The trio’s latest platter Personal Life finds a poppy middle ground between 2004’s Fuckin A and Now We Can See, which was released just last year. There are still a couple of catchy “whoa oh whoa” songs, but the production is a little grimier thanks to Chris Walla, who coincidentally also produced Fuckin A. Bassist Kathy Foster wrote many of the songs this time around, which coincidentally pushes the bass to the front and allows guitarist Hutch Harris to lay off the power chords and add smaller brush-strokes of noise (listen to “Never Listen to Me” … no really, do not listen to what the song is telling you). Personal life is also the first record since Fuckin A to feature a drummer that isn’t Foster—Westin Glass steps in and ramps up the rhythm section into a lean, mean rock ‘n’ roll machine.

And in case you couldn’t tell from the title, this is not an album about the state of affairs at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., but rather the proven themes of love and relationships. In fact, most of the song-titles sound like they were pulled from one of those State of the Union-type conversations between two (three?) lovers. Stick around for the hidden track, “Mark Lore Has a Crush on The Thermals.”

“I Don’t Believe You” - The Thermals

Video for “I Don’t Believe You” feat. Sleater Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein

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Menomena: Whaddya say?

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010 | musiX, pdX | 2 Comments

A few weeks ago I was telling a friend about Menomena’s song “TAOS.” Much like the rest of the band’s latest record, Mines (Barsuk), it’s vicious, sprawling, confusing, beautiful, spastic, loud and waggish. I was blown away by the song (which made it on to the TDoL Summer Mix). Yet, for the many sonic qualities it possesses, the only thing that managed to come from my mouth was: “This song will punch you right in the dick-hole.”

Now I realize this might sound a bit over the top, sophomoric and, quite frankly, stupid. Add the fact I was standing in the middle of the ice cream aisle of a crowded Fred Meyer, and it’s even more ridiculous. What can I say? I was very excited. Here’s what else I can say: Mines is a gem through and through. The members of Menomena know how to make every single note and every little sound heard. Fuzz bass dances with piano, horns, guitars, and drums that sound as if your head is stuck inside of the kick (listen to the aforementioned “TAOS”). Arty, but not pretentious, this is a band that makes over-thinking sound fun.

I’ve recently read some reviews of Mines that seem to make it a point to be unnecessarily verbose (guess which?). Of course, “This will punch you right in the dick-hole” isn’t what I’d call a shining example of eloquent wordplay … then again I am a firm believer that when it comes to most things—including music—it’s best not to mince words.

“TAOS” - Menomena

“Five Little Rooms” - Menomena

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