Festival Ecstatique

Ecstatic Yod Space, The Red Barn
Northampton, MA
November 16-18, 2007

Byron Coley’s Festival Ecstatique wasn’t so much a festival as it was another weekend in Western, MA. Spread over three afternoons and evenings — stuffed into Coley’s Ecstatic Yod space as well as the roomier expanse of Hampshire College’s Red Barn — the event was an embarrassment of riches, friends and strangers.
A trio of poets — John Oliver Simon, Richard Krech and Charles Potts - provided context for the proceedings, each recalling late ‘60s Berkeley, California as a grand central station that both solidified a nascent counterculture and bridged more than one generation gap. Simon’s language was littered with color and foreign sound, while Krech distilled the clinical legal process into pure human concentrate. Potts, the most engaging and energetic of the trio, ranted on geriatric space travel, punctuating the final lines — “An exceptionally large amount of money was blown into space / To discover the effect of weightlessness on mindlessness” — with an astronomical grin that knowingly connected one world to another.
Coley, Thurston Moore and Valerie Webber performed Trash Tankas for Canyon, a collection of verse that lovingly and cruelly decimated the back catalogue of Joni Mitchell. How loving? “Mingus (Asylum 1979)”: It pains me to think / One of the final visions / To flash through the mind / Of the great Charlie Mingus / was of Joni’s wrinkled ass.” And Mike Watt, looking as if he had woken in his own home and come to greet a stranger at the door, mined his long flight from San Francisco for effect and drowsily spieled about pedalin’, Pedro and Coltrane before imagining himself a cat.
The Bill Nace/Sarah Jaffe duo opened Saturday evening with a sonic outburst, trading fistfuls of notes and furious knots of chords. In contrast with his subdued contributions to X.O.4., Nace lunged for and teased out individual notes with grotesque exaggeration, made them howl and shriek before tuning down to a whisper. Jaffe, formerly of Erase Errata, scattered her notes like metallic needlepoint.
Moore and Kim Gordon made a gorgeous entrance as Mirror/Dash. Gordon pushed her voice out into an ethereal fog that seemed to find its way magnetically into the fabric of Moore’s playing and soon traded up for her guitar, playing high, glimmering pockets of notes that parsed Moore’s cantering rhythm. The ideas, so complimentary and intimate at this point, passed effortlessly between them.
It’s been a long time since Paul Flaherty appeared live with trusted conspirator Chris Corsano, and the absence seems to have ignited the free sax great, who was furiously on point and divinely aligned as Hair Wars with Kate Biggar of Major Stars. She was the duo’s fuel: with her thin frame tensed like electrostatic, she railed her guitar against the Barn’s support beams and clashed with metal furniture in the front row. Casting tidal sounds towards Flaherty, he responded with sharp, atonal couplets and strong, exaggerated howls. It was raucous, total theater brought to the verge of no direction home when Biggar decisively cut the power, said thanks and unplugged, leaving the room a blur and a tired Coley to send a crowd feeling full out into a bitter November night.

-Review and photo by Matthew Despres

Malajube / Ponies in the Surf / Carter Tanton

The Middle East Upstairs
Cambridge, MA
November 21, 2007

It seems like Carter Tanton has his hands in almost every good Boston band these days, whether it be on the musician or producer end — or, many times, both. Township. Tulsa. Drug Rug. Amoroso. Who knows when the dude has time to sleep. Seeing him open for this fantastic Middle East show the night before Thanksgiving was a serious treat, too, revealing yet another Carter Tanton musical incarnation: Carter Tanton ... solo. Armed only with a classical guitar, Tanton played a set of solo acoustic tracks plus one cover. The result was an utterly heartbreaking performance that, in this reviewer’s opinion, rivaled (and arguably surpassed) any of his work with the slew of aforementioned Performer cover-worthy bands. While Tulsa might be the best and most interesting band in Boston at the moment, Tanton’s vocal performance with the band is often obscured by its shoutiness and heavy use of effects. Which isn’t so much a bad thing, as it works stylistically with the band’s sound. Stripped down to its organic core, however, it was readily apparent that Tanton actually has a fantastic voice, replete with gorgeous inflections and unique character. The songs took form as country ballads with intricate lead/rhythm-oriented guitar work, and mournful, lovelorn lyrics. Often direct in approach, but also poignantly metaphoric, his songwriting hit all the right chords in the entranced audience. The mood of the set cast a profound shadow over his last song, a cover of Magnetic Fields’ “The Book of Love,” which took form as a slower, subtly introspective ballad, Tanton somehow breathing an incredible amount of emotional depth into Stephen Meritt’s campy lyricism.
Next up were Boston-based indie pop darlings Ponies in the Surf. Channeling the quirky vibes of Jonathan Richman with the nerdy pop sensibilities of Belle and Sebastian, this long time favorite put on a charming, well received show. The brother-sister duo played some older favorites like “Ventricle,” as well as a wealth of new material, to be released soon on California-based Darla Records. The band never strayed too far from upbeat, jaunty songs punctuated by clever lyrics and wry wit, and the set flew by without a dull moment. The band didn’t need a fancy live setup to get their point across; in the end it all just boiled down to great songwriting, amiable stage presence, and an endless array of sugar coated melodies that sound as though they’d been lurking around in our collective unconscious for as long as humans have been writing songs. In other words, a ton of melodies you wish you had written.
Canadian-based Malajube headlined the night, playing their melodic breed of layered, anthemic indie rock. If ever there were a band that could fit the genre of “Pitchforkmedia.com,” this would be it, though they’re actually really good at it. Shouty post-punk reappropriations of Arcade Fire conduct a mélange of analog synths, sprightly basslines, and overdriven guitar, fusing into enthusiastic, major chord declarations of faith to indie rock trends. Much louder live than on album, Malajube rocked out with an impressive amount of gusto, given it was the latter end of their North American tour.

-Review by Adam Arrigo

The Shills CD Release Party / Your Vegas / Owen McCarthey / This Car Up

The Annex
New York, NY
November 17, 2007

Like many Lower East Side venues, The Annex is a fantastic setting for any artist to intimately connect with an audience and still feel like they’re actually playing a concert and not sitting on a stool at a poetry club. With a dark, tavern-like atmosphere, ‘60s wood paneling on the walls, tinny aluminum ceilings, bohemian lighting upstairs, and random belly dancers to woo the clientele between sets, The Annex would provide a comfortable, exciting, and unique atmosphere for any show.
This Car Up started off the night and was perhaps the most well-balanced band. From Allston, Mass., This Car Up sounded lush and vibrant, all the while maintaining a humble and likeable image. The five-piece set was very seasoned. Guitarists and singers Paul Sentz and Eric Glassman seemed to have a lot of chemistry between them and Kurt Schneider added a fitting dynamic on keyboards and synth along with a very solid rhythm section. Expect great things from This Car Up in the future as well. Their songwriting is excellent, they sound great live and the band members are as likeable and friendly as anyone you will ever meet.
Brooklynite acoustic singer/songwriter Owen McCarthy followed with a performance similar to what you’d expect to see at a poetry club — sit on a stool and expect attention just because you’re on the stage. Despite having a strong voice, McCarthy’s boyish haircut and overall live presence were not terribly captivating and killed a lot of the energy that This Car Is Up had previously established. The New York/UK band Your Vegas brought back much of the crowd and had a more exciting stage presence, despite sporting an overt Killers theme. As Your Vegas brought the crowd-beat up a few levels, the belly dancers got everyone looking towards the stage. They masqueraded around like nymphs dressed in translucent red cloth. It’s unknown whether or not the belly dancers were part of the event, but they kept a lot of people around for The Shills.
With a large amount of rail thin hipsters dressed like scarecrows in the wind and a packed house, The Shills came on to an enthusiastic and interested crowd. Vocalist/guitarist Bryan Murphy took control of the audience. His booming vocals drove the four-piece rock outfit and rode very uniform flow throughout the entire set. The Shills played most songs off of their self-titled 2007 release The Shills and the songs translated nicely into dynamic, danceable rock songs. Their live energy is a great asset and compliments some of the choppy rhythms and Dave Sicilian’s funky — almost warped — bass lines. While the set felt stagnant at times, due to Murphy’s repetitive vocal affect, there was an undeniable energy on stage, and it’s difficult to argue with The Shills’ formula for success.

- Review and photos by Michael Aceto

Spouse / Ezra Furman and the Harpoons

T.T. the Bear’s
Cambridge, MA
November 14, 2007

This bill was dead on arrival at T.T.’s on an unseasonably humid November night. The low turnout was surprising, given the recent rise in national profile of the show’s opener, Ezra Furman and the Harpoons. On the heels of their brilliant debut, released on eminent Chicago-based Minty Fresh Records, the band is being lauded as the second coming of the Violent Femmes, a younger Jonathan Richman, and even as a fresh take on Bob Dylan. Despite playing to a packed crowd at the FADER CMJ Showcase just a couple weeks prior and creating a ton of national buzz, you can leave it to Boston to be completely oblivious of a truly mammoth local talent. The band tore through album favorites such as “Mother’s Day,” “I Wanna Be Ignored,“ and “Hotel Room In Casablanca.” Charging on energetically, unfettered by the poor turnout, the band definitely won over a few stragglers at the bar.
Next up were legendary Western Mass. rockers Spouse, who brought in a pretty decent crowd. Although, considering the quality of their catalog and the band’s rich history, it was also surprising that they didn’t have a bigger crowd. Northampton isn‘t that far away, is it? Nevertheless, the band plowed through a tight set replete with songs from their excellent new album Relocation Tactics, as well as some older, more ballad-based material. One particular highlight was the track, “Delta,” which was originally the title of the new album before a last minute change. Midway through the song, heavy-hitting drummer J.J. O’Connell erupted into a thunderous breakdown, joined by an animated Mark Schwaber and Jose Ayerve. Spouse’s mature sound harkened back to the days of ‘90s lo-fi indie rock a la Sebadoh with the mainstream melodic tendencies of mid-career U2. A dynamic performer, Ayerve’s vocals sounded obnoxiously good live - he’s one of those singers who can replicate a perfect studio performance on a bar stage effortlessly. Spouse put on a thoroughly entertaining rock show, and was an abrupt switch from the college-aged Harpoons, whose immaturity was only exacerbated when they loaded out bass drums and amps in front of the stage during Spouse’s set. Really poor form, but forgivable given the band’s relative infancy in the world of local music outside college dorm rooms and campus centers.

-Review by Adam Arrigo; photo by Molly Lorenzo

Travis Morrison Hellfighters / Harris / Statehood / George Lewis Jr. (CD Release)

The Middle East Upstairs
Cambridge, MA
November 17, 2007

A weird lineup made for an unusually packed and musically diverse crowd this particular evening at the Middle East Upstairs. The night was a split between local superstars George Lewis Jr. (of Mad Man Films and Drug Rug) and Harris alongside breakaway republics the Travis Morrison Hellfighters and Statehood — both bands born of the fan favorite Dismemberment Plan and both hailing from Washington DC.
Most of the crowd seemed in attendance for the latter two bands and crushed into the area to the left side of the club, creating a crowd of rush-hour subway proportions in front of the stage. George Lewis Jr. opened the night and destroyed the stage with an inside-out set of his original blues and soul compositions.
A loose and easy guitar player, Lewis churned through his entire repertoire. Fans of his “other band” Mad Man Films were not to be stylistically let down, Lewis enacted a few of his musical vocal freak outs that have become a staple of his style — at times letting his voice go totally unhinged for a huge ending or chorus. The set was full of climaxes and anti-climaxes. Lewis, in full three-piece suit, jaunted and crooned his way through the set.
Lewis’s second song, “Let Go,” brought down the house in a fit of blues-fire, one of those grand watershed type songs that make an evening. Lewis has a slightly awkward stage presence. “We have one more song,” he reported, before asking the soundman how much time was left. “18 minutes,” was the response, so Lewis and company brought the house down yet again, and then the backing band left the stage all to Lewis, who changed the entire evening with one song, a quiet coda stating that “No one knows my ghosts,” a heart-breaking paean to his own departed.
Next up was Statehood. The crowd surged to the front for the Washington DC power group, despite a loathsome guitar tone that sounded like it might best be enjoyed from, say, Delaware. Part of the Dismemberment Plan one-two punch, Statehood did their best to kick up the energy a few notches for the Dismemberment crowd, which seemed visibly hungry to hear what they had to say.
Another local act followed up the first act of the DC All-Star team as Harris took the stage. A somewhat comforting presence in local rock, Harris is like a beloved chain restaurant — no matter where or when you go, you know the cheese on the burger is going to taste the same and the French fries are going to be done just so. Harris played their familiar set with Police-flavored rhythms and vocal gymnastics from the Paul Simon-esque Mike Nastri, who also doubled up on bass. Nastri is a modestly sized man with an immodestly sized voice — the man stretches his vocal cords and hits some notes that human men have no business hitting — all with ease. Most of Harris’s continuing catalog features terse verses that give way to freewheeling choruses. The crowd ate up every aspect of the performance, from the sour-faced keyboardist to the spastic electro-shock stage presence on the guitar side of the stage.
The Travis Morrison Hellfighters closed up the night to the wild delight of their fans. The evening was a Boston / DC split, with the crowd score going to DC but the punches landed points easily going to Boston.

-Review by C.D. Di Guardia; photo by Marianne Bolduc

Adrian Emberley & the Urban Anthropologists / American Water / The Make

T.T. the Bear’s
Cambridge, MA
November 20, 2007

Boston-based Berklee noise rockers The Make kicked off this solid night of local music with a set of brooding, epic jams. For a relatively new band, The Make boasts an impressive live show, comprised of anthemic drumming, meandering lead guitar, washy minor chords and boy-girl harmonized vocals. While lead guitarist Nick Randall’s virtuosic guitar work comprises most of the band’s technical prowess, The Make’s ethereal vocal melodies are what tie the sound firmly together. Sounding vaguely like a cross between the late Layne Staley and the less coherent Sigur Ros vocalist Jón _ór Birgisson, the band’s vocal attack is soothing enough to lull the listener to sleep yet punctuated enough to draw blood.
American Water were up next — three normal looking guys playing understated indie rock songs in the vein of Blonde Redhead and Built to Spill - in contrast to the swirling drama of the previous act. Their middle-aged, no bullshit image was highly reminiscent of The Wrens, and not surprisingly, the band cites this seminal indie punk act as a main influence. While the band’s stage presence left a bit to be desired, the songs were sharply constructed, leanly arranged, and noticeably well rehearsed.
Finally, Adrian Emberley & the Urban Anthropologists took the stage with an impressive looking setup including drums, guitars, cello, and multiple vocals. Clearly on the young side and hailing from Berklee, the band was definitely the surprise of the evening, their songs and arrangements revolving around Emberley’s hook-laden, occasionally eccentric singer/songwriting a la Regina Spektor. By the time they took the stage, the room had filled with an impressive number of adoring friends and fans who were apparently thoroughly familiar with a lot of the songs. Emberley’s songwriting shined through her accompanying band’s complimentary arrangements; of particular interest was Callie Peters’ exquisite cello work, deftly filling in gaps between chords, occasionally shifting rhythmic gears to stabbing staccato. While the band’s performance was fairly loose and rough around the edges, it was in the most charming of imperfections. A few flubs lent the performance a sense of college-aged realism, conjuring images of cramped, Berklee dorm room jam sessions and rushed late night rehearsals. To an unassuming bystander, the set was a sort of transient glimpse into a world of prolific, schooled musicians at an age when ideas flow forth in avalanches.

-Review and photo by Adam Arrigo

Love of Diagrams / Colour Revolt / The Peasantry / Cyanide Valentine

Great Scott
Allston, MA
November 19, 2007

Those who decided to extend their weekend into this particular Monday night at Great Scott were in for a pleasant surprise: the Matador-signed band Love of Diagrams (wildly popular overseas) headlined with Colour Revolt, The Peasantry and Cyanide Valentine.
Despite the quarter-filled room, Bostonians Cyanide Valentine demanded an attentive audience with their eclectic first set. A driving intro immediately perked the ears of onlookers, yet with vocals that undeniably sounded like Muse’s doppelganger. Landing somewhere between pop punk, metal and hard rock, the vocals then morphed from a Muse/Placebo hybrid into Bowie into Ozzy and back again. Yet rather than fusing these genres, the chameleon-like Cyanide Valentine became a different band for nearly every song. It was impressive, yet overall a bit dizzying.
The crowd filled out as Boston locals The Peasantry took the stage. The band began with strong, spacey opening. The third song, unfortunately, was a dead ringer for an Interpol cover — except that it wasn’t. Difficult as this was to overlook, the rest of their set sported two distinctly different vocalists, one on keyboards and one on rhythm guitar, making for full, catchy songs. Danceable as they became, The Peasantry were unable to move the crowd from their staunch, still positioning.
Mississippi outfit Colour Revolt was by far the best of the night — between three guitars (all interchanging lead and rhythm duties), effortless yet electric vocals, and syncopated drum beats and matching guitar rhythms, the band delivered an all-encompassing post-punk experience. With a sound reminiscent of early emo bands such as Mineral and Sunny Day Real Estate — tinged with a trace of Deftones — Colour Revolt was a clear, technically and emotionally precise mid-show refresher.
As Australian-based Love of Diagrams began their set, a PBR-toting hipster asked his comrade “they’re on Matador?” in a tone of curious bewilderment. His confusion may be justified: not only does their hype come as a shock considering the whittled-down crowd, but their sound - and live performance - isn’t stand-out original either. Although Love of Diagrams may be safe, with a string of songs that sound more-or-less similar, consistency is a good thing. The band showered the crowd with electro-pop song after pop song, made up of sharp female vocals and impeccably catchy riffs. Despite a clearly-articulated delivery, the whole performance felt a bit tepid, though not entirely bad for a Monday night.

-Review by Taylor Bratches

Dirty Projectors / Deer Tick / Nat Baldwin

The Middle East Upstairs
Cambridge, MA
December 5, 2007

A restless crowd packed into The Middle East Upstairs on December 5, anxious to see Dirty Projectors perform live their peculiar send-up off Black Flag’s Damaged, which also makes up the band’s latest full-length, Rise Above. Joining them was good friend Nat Baldwin and locals Deer Tick, whose sounds, while dissimilar, both fit comfortably on the bill.
Opener Nat Baldwin, having played in Boston just two months prior, took a different approach to his live sound for this visit. Situating himself on the far right of the stage, he allowed trumpet and tenor sax to take center, rather than his usual accompaniment of strings. And while it worked, brimming with a tense, experimental sound, the drums overpowered not only the brass but Baldwin’s croon, as well.
Deer Tick took to the stage next, changing the dynamic of the show a bit with a nonsensical introduction and rambling banter that was carried into each between-song void. But this lightheartedness made its way into the music as well, as the band opened by covering The Beatles and ended by covering Ritchie Valens’ classic version of the Mexican dance anthem “La Bamba.” And all the while, sandwiched between these crowd-pleasing bookends, their trademark folk-indie songs, consisting of switches between upright and electric bass, lots of guitar picking, tambourine-tinged percussion, and overall joviality, swarmed the crowd and left them contented.
The room was sardine-packed as Dirty Projectors began their set, Dave Longstreth leading the way with Amber Coffman sharing guitar/vocal responsibilities, Angel Deradoorian on bass/vocals and Brian Mcomber on drums. The first song was direct and compelling, signature vocal harmonies already in swing, presenting an angular beauty. The open-mouthed, unwavering vocals of Coffman and Deradoorian alongside Longstreth’s loud, range-traversing bellow are part of the reason Dirty Projectors are so captivating live. And this was not sacrificed for newly-incorporated punk elements, an obvious side-effect of remaking Damaged; if anything, the band augmented their harmonies to new and (despite Black Flag’s grittiness) nearly-perfected heights. Yet Longstreth did stretch his voice more than usual to relay some essence of the original album, at times straining his singing. The other members, too, followed suit - some songs were driven by thrashy drums, others were dance-punk influenced, another like a mathy jam. Unfortunately, despite the success of their set, the band refused to return for an encore that the audience desperately wanted - an action that, ironically, seems to stray from the community-centered punk ethos that fueled albums like Damaged. Hopefully Dirty Projectors can rise above their egos.

-Review by Taylor Bratches