CSS & Sleigh Bells at Webster Hall

CSS

Lately, I've been eager to see a band that I like that I hadn't seen live before. This sadly, is an ever-shrinking category for me. It's been a while since a band has toured that I was willing to pay money to see. So, naturally, when I heard CSS was co-headlining a show with Sleigh Bells, I jumped at the opportunity to swipe tickets. It proved more difficult than I had imagined. Turns out that A LOT of people like CSS & Sleigh Bells, and were far swifter at swiping tickets than I. Twenty dollar tickets quickly became fifty dollar tickets via stubhub, but I figured 50 clams for a sold out show featuring two bands (whose albums I actually enjoy) wasn't an entirely unfair price to pay- even if it WAS a show at Webster Hall.

I can't iterate enough my distaste for Webster Hall. They suck. The venue is disorganized, they keep lineups cryptic, the hall reeks of mold and stale beer, and, the sound there BLOWS. Did I mention it smells? Yeah? Ok. I don't care if it's an INSTITUTION, so was CBGBs, and they went the way of the Dodo because they were WAY past their prime. Webster Hall has been a lousy venue for a while now, and yet, bands keep playing there. I assume it's for some unknown financial reason, like the overhead is cheaper for moderately successful bands. That seems to be who plays there these days. Bands on the brink or bands that are big enough to sell out to a NY crowd, but not to a NJ crowd. Am I right? Ok, rant over. Now, on to what transpired.

Look! Instruments!

The crowd was a lot younger than I am accustomed to... although, I must admit, I think I am getting to that age where I will be the oldest person up front at any show, singing along and dancing. I am not a "go to a concert just to sit in the rear of the theater and drink" type, which inevitably puts me up front with the enthusiastic youngins. I don't mind, really, it's just, a little sad for me to accept that I am getting OLDER. The crowds enthusiasm was welcome though, despite my self-loathing agist phobias. The pre-show music they were blasting was a satisfyingly ecclectic mix of late 80's and early 90's music. TLC, Nirvana, Guns-n-Roses, and Van Halen were the more memorable tracks being blasted out, with myself and all the little ones screaming out the words, for the sad truth was that this would be the closest to hearing those bands live that we'd ever get.

A KEY-TAR!

CSS came out with a welcome BANG opening with the rocking tune "Art Bitch" -one of my favorite tracks on their debut album. From start to finish CSS got what being performers were all about. Even if you're not a huge fan of their work, seeing them live is an enjoyable experience. They play their instruments well, are sonically organized, their attitude is gracious, and well, they're fun as hell. The lead singer known only as Lovefoxx was a good front-woman for their act. She was high energy with pure enthusiasm and kept the audience on their toes. She jumped into the crowd, danced around, launched herself into a crowd surf, and she also successfully managed a handful of costume changes without ever leaving the stage! I've never seen a woman with so many layers of clothing on in my life. The energy on the stage was amplified by the smiling dancing bodies on the floor, which was literally buckling beneath us to the very beat of the music. They played a healthy mix of both albums, and a few choice new tracks from their forthcoming album. I had a lot of fun and found myself happy for paying to see them live.

Sleigh Bells

I wish I could say the same for Sleigh Bells. At first, I was along for the ride. They started the show by blasting Black Sabbath's "Iron Man", and while all the kids were screaming and thrashing I decided to do the same. It was fun and cathartic, but, as the show went on, I came to the realization that the rocking energy was coming from the crowd and NOT from Sleigh Bells. By the time I walked out of Webster Hall, I found myself mumbling, "I could'a stayed home, and just pressed play." The shift of talent was extreme. They were all gimmick and no substance. The wall of amps and the rack of guitars wheeled out during set up had given me a sense of hope. I knew that Sleigh Bells was only a 2-person operation, but, so's Death From Above 1979, and they fucking WAILED when I saw them open for Nine Inch Nails. So, it stood to reason that Sleigh Bells could wail too. I was sorely mistaken. Sadly, everything was a recording that they pumped through the speakers, and the girl Alexis Krauss, was barely doing what I would call singing.

The Elusive Guitarist Derek

As for the guitarist Derek Miller- I GUESS he was playing, but it didn't seem to matter, because the background track playing through was louder than he was. There was also a good chunk of time when Derek wasn't even on the stage- he wasn't bothering to PRETEND to play while Alexis "sang". At those moments, when Alexis was alone on the stage with a track playing steadily beneath her barely audible shaky vocals, it just appeared to be an overpriced karaoke performance. Once the spell of the crowd's enthusiasm dissipated I was ready to migrate to the back of the theater so I could have a speedy exit.

What happened next for me was fascinating. Every foot that I walked further away from the stage, the more shallow Sleigh Bells sound became. In the front where I was it was pure noise pop blasting through oversize speakers where I could barely hear the "live" guitar and vocals. It was infectious and fun to rock out to, sure, but it was VERY temporary. As I walked to the back the entirely pre-recorded music seemed to go mute, and all you could hear was Alexis' vocals... and they were weak. The kids at the show seemed to really enjoy Sleigh Bells and CSS. CSS I got, for sure, because they were musicians with a strong female lead. As for Sleigh Bells, as much as I enjoyed their studio album, I wanted more "oomph" out of them live than what I got, which left me feeling overwhelmingly disappointed.

"Singer" Alexis Krauss

Maybe I am just getting too old to "get" the appeal of a synthetic band that doesn't actually play the music they composed live. No thanks, Sleigh Bells. I'd give you a go if you bring out a BAND with you next time that could play the loud balls to the wall noise pop that your album brings.

CSS is who you should be paying money to see, because, ultimately, humans put on a better show than computers any day.    

CSS/ Sleigh Bells Set List Sampling

In case you were curious, 

here's a rough list of what each band played:

CSS

Art Bitch

Off the Hook

Air Painter

Music is My Hot, Hot Sex

Move

Alala

Let's Make Love (And Listen to Death from Above)

Let's Reggae All Night

SLEIGH BELLS

Tell 'Em

Kids

Treats

Riot Rhythm

Infinity Guitars

Rill Rill

A/B Machines

Sleep No More **Spoilers**

My Ticket

I cannot put into words the experience of “Sleep No More” that I had last night, here, in my beloved Gotham City but I will TRY. It was a fragmented series of events that conjured feelings of depravation, insanity, fear, voyeurism, enchantment, lust, sympathy, and isolation.


We entered a hallway black as pitch. We were given a single playing card. We roamed a black fabric covered labyrinth, where I felt around blindly in the dark until it opened up to a red velvet lined curtained room- we were catapulted into a jazz age speakeasy complete with band and fervent chatter. We got our Kopparburg Ciders, and slowly began to take in the scenery. A man came out, asking for “Two more brave souls to enter”. We volunteered ourselves, and slammed back what was left of our cider... which was to be our last sip of reality.


We were shuffled into yet another dark room, where a sequined dame languidly expressed to us the rules for the duration of our stay. Egg shell colored plague masks were passed our way. As I slid the wide beaked shell over my long face I felt the anonymity and mystique permeate all sense of identity I had. The masks must stay on the whole time. We were told to no longer speak. They filed us into what turned out to be a massive freight elevator, where one of our “group” was pushed out into an unknown corridor- forced to separate from his companion. She moaned in protest, but the elevator attendant simply laughed and told us in his thick cheeky Scottish brogue that we SHOULD separate, as that was part of the experience.

We exited. Where I found myself next was an apothecaries den thick with the blackest sort of magic. Dried flowers, chalk scribbles, and fragments of parchment expressing the practical uses of ritualistic magic. Taxidermy beasts, femur bones in drawers, maps of Scotland, shreds of animal pelts, vials filled with unknown noxious substances- all there to explore room by dimly lit room. Disturbing dreams and beautiful nightmares all silently resting yearning to leap out at you.

I caught sight of frenzied movement and before long the chase for the muddled tale of  Macbeth unfolded before me. Fragments- bizarre and intoxicating- the lucid dreamscapes I witnessed confounded me. I’m not sure what happened.

There was a ballroom dance, all whimsy and laughter. Beautiful men in a close embrace mere inches before me. The sweeping of a blue velvet dress brushing my hands and cheek. Men and women of dapper dress pirouetting, fox trotting, and swinging through the air with grace and ease, their silence masked by the sounds of the music. The music and gaiety seemed to last forever- when all that was white  suddenly went blue. A subtle shift to the moribund. A once flowing locked woman- now turned to a bald and enraptured witch writhes and shrieks in the once joyous ballroom. Her dance is eerie, jagged, and alienating. We the silent audience shrouded in our bird masks stare as ghostly specters.

I find a tall lanky blonde man in a cold panic. I follow him- nay- I chase him. Birds of the plague are all in a rabid hunt through a maze composed of sheer madness spiraling up endless flights of stairs. We come to a store front, another apothecary? There is a beautiful Asian woman in a deep blue flowing gown with a  plunging neckline, waiting. There is an exchange of poisons, a struggle set to dance watched through a grimy plexi-glass shop front window- he gets what he wants. I’m led by the crazed man down a narrow steel lined wall. The sounds of audience members hands and nails scraping by at the raised edges of adding to the cacophony of sensory overload. The hall opened to a room lit red, lined with cocktail tables, and a stage. There is a man contemplating his scotch. I perch myself upon a bar stool and watch. He holds the shot glass, seemingly mumbling, a prayer perhaps? Who knows. Maddened cackling erupts. A woman in red appears by his side. Is she drunk or insane? We’re all left guessing. There is a blue spot light illuminating them. Slow drones of electronica begin to pulse throughout the room. Strobes erupt. A myriad collage of beaked onlookers in stuttered nightmarish shards spot my vision. The strobe lights and electronica summon (what I assume) are the Weird Sisters... And the devil himself.  Naked, donning a Rams head. His dance is shameless, brazen, hypnotic to the swaying droning beat, and paired beautifully with the sister's gyrations. There is blood everywhere. Streaks of red smeared all over all the practitioners. Then there enters the wife of MacDuff (again, I assume), her pregnancy violated as a fetus is ripped from her in a frenzy. All this and still the naked devil man streaked in blood is dancing. Flesh is fed upon. The beautiful Asian woman in blue is sprawled out across a cocktail table and devoured in sheer ecstasy.

The music slows, the strobe softens, the rams head is removed and reveals a depraved and slight young man, naked, bloody. I choose to follow him out. He leads us to a hidden chamber where there is a simple black bathroom. There is one single shower stall. Already naked- but needing to cleanse himself, the man turns on the water and collapses into the stall. A room full of masked voyeurs watch as the small shaking man rinses the blood away. I seat myself below the sink and watch, suddenly wrought with pity for him. He mutters and gestures to us all. There is a towel. We collectively reach and towel him dry. He gestures to his pants. His movement is morose and exhausted. I am handed a shoe. We help him put his trousers on, fix the shoes upon his feet. We helped to put the man back together again. Pants, shoes, suspenders and all. The once carnal and blood streaked beast is transformed back to the civilized albeit disheveled man.

We are led through to a great hall, where a dinner party is taking place. The last supper of Macbeth. All the characters are all on display in a line across a well covered table full of glasses, dishware, and wine. The characters move languidly, as if under water. They move frame by frame yet are flesh before me. There are accusations, rumors, debauchery, unknown discourses and means to an end. The din of the music tells of a foreboding doom. I flee to explore.

There is a boudoir, hallways lined with mirrors, a room of decapitated baby dolls in a stationary flight circling around an old empty cradle. The air is caked with dust and a stench of old things. Walking further on, I find  empty living rooms, hinting towards wealth, now decrepit and crumbling. I find an empty child’s bedroom messy and scattered with old toys. I discover a miniature scale cemetery, the smell of earth and metal is thick. There is a moist chill in the air. A small black pram sits alone among the small crosses in the scattered dirt. I walk through to the other side, and find grey stone bricks- ruins in decay with cloaked statues of rueful women scattered throughout the eerie man made moors. Beyond the ruins, I see an interior, a massive room, with cabinetry, a massive bed, and a large bathtub set in the center of the room. I find the Lady M seducing Macbeth with the lyrical twists of her lithe body. A heated yet wordless argument takes them throughout the room, scaling up the cabinetry, mocking gravity itself until finally they sit at the foot of their bed, in a momentary embrace. Macbeth departs, I assume to kill Duncan. The Lady is pleased, lost in thought, dancing about the room, she perches her body on the rim of the tub, love-letters from Macbeth spotted with dirty bath water are scattered around the bath. She remains perched and then floats- as if utterly weightless, dipping her feet into the dirty brownish red water. She drapes an extravagant robe across her shoulders, and flourishes proudly across the room. I leave her to her thoughts and the intrigued onlookers.

There is a hospital wing. Freshly abandoned hospital beds, doctors studies, surgical implements, a dog frozen in space with its gnashing teeth clutching at a doctors bag, a chair of antiquity good for strapping one in perhaps to perform a labotamy, a public surgical  lecture room, and clothes hanging on string impeding your view everywhere. Walking further through, I find a  forest maze of branches that claw at you as you walk through, peering through the clearing I spot a seemingly helpless lamb. There is a hut at the end of the path lined with birch wood, where a woman works inside, doing what I knew not. The grand ballroom is full of fog now where once the dinner party and dancing- the Birnam wood swallowing you.

People are thrown together and torn apart both as actor and audience member. If you’re lucky, you’ll be told a secret.

Otherwise, just be sure to stay for the hanging.

...and I’ve barely scratched the surface.

Adieu!

Devotchka at the Highline Ballroom

There's something about a handsome man, stroking the empty air tenderly, with his eyes closed, with a romantic yet mournful look on his face. He is not a blind man trying to feel his way around. He is not lost in the dark looking to find the light switch- nor is he a crazy person aimlessly wandering the streets of New York City. No, the night I witnessed a handsome man lovingly caressing the air- with his brows furrowed deeply, his lids shut tight while he pursed his lips... was last night at the Highline Ballroom. The man in question was Nick Urata and he was playing the theremin. THE THEREMIN. That's one of the many little eccentric details about Devotchka that I happen to adore. You just don't get enough music incorporating instruments that don't require you to touch them! Another element of eccentricity in all its off beat appeal is the sexy as hell SOUSAPHONE player Jeanie who's always donning a beautiful dress and killer vampy high heels. Not to mention the extra oddball dimension to that is the percussion prop table full of the expected instruments... but also steel bowls, and pots and pans.

OK, so, Devotchka is more than just eccentric in the details. They are the embodiment of eccentricity. In fact, Devotchka's eclectic mix of noise makers on stage make the other components of the band, the violin, the upright bass, the accordion, trumpet, piano, and flute appear average and standard fare. This is exactly why I love Devotchka. Besides the items with which they perform upon, the energy, spirit, and attitude of their songs are always an intriguing melodrama that I gladly watch play out minute by minute. Whether it was a love ballad, a war cry, a whimper of lovelorn defeat, or a wordless melody of joy I found myself enthralled and dancing along at every musical mood swing.

Despite some issues with the sound system the show was one of the best I've seen this year. The crowd was tame, but it made for plenty of dancing room for me and my cohort. Even as I am writing this, I am shaking my head and humming the songs though it's been hours upon hours since the music stopped. The set list was everything I could've hoped for and more. It was a healthy mix of their entire catalog and included some choice tracks off of their newest album, "100 Lovers". (Side note: I find the new album very crisp with a slight modern-sounding edge to it I hadn't detected in their previous work before.) The few tracks that they'd chosen to perform that night harmonized beautifully with their more classic hits.

The show itself was certainly more stripped down than the previous shows I've seen from Devotchka, but I felt it was a pleasant change of pace. It allowed me to focus more on their musical prowess and not be distracted superfluous flash. That is not to say that there wasn't SOME flash. There were some key moments during the set, where the sudden appearance of scantily clad silhouettes began a sultry dance to entice us- not to mention the dames in their britches spinning large white umbrellas. Though these little ladies were very welcome, for me, Devotchka's musical talent was the real show stopper. I've never seen such a wide variety of instruments switched on and off between songs in my life. Jeanie went from sousaphone, to upright bass, and to flute with merely a subtle bat of the lashes to indicate a shift. I watched in utter captivation as the drummer Shawn wailed away on his trumpet from behind the drum set- while still maintaining a beat! Not to mention the musical shapeshifting of Tom who went from piano to accordion to violin so quickly I never even saw the switch occur!

Nick's voice alone is an instrument that has so much depth and emotional range that the need for added instrumentation should be unnecessary but NO, the man switched guitars so many times it seemed as if he suffered from a severe case of musical A.D.D. then, to top it all off, with a simple swivel to his left, Nick would let his guitar fall to his hips- he'd raise his arms in position and wail away at the theremin. It was nothing but excitingly frantic musical mayhem on that stage, and I couldn't help but dance the night away.

Devotchka at the Highline Ballroom: Setlist

Oh and here's the setlist!

Zoe Keating: Le Poisson Rouge 3/6/11

When it comes to classical compositions, I am a total and utter novice. All I know is if I find a piece of music striking a chord somewhere deep inside of me, I respond to it. I will purchase the song or the album, and listen intently, soaking it in as much as I can. I seldom buy a ticket to a classical concert, mostly because the musicians I'd WANT to see performing their music have been DEAD for hundreds of years. Besides, the crowds for a classical show are usually not my speed... This was not the case for the Zoe Keating/Todd Reynolds show at Le Poisson Rouge on Sunday night.

Beautiful, Isn't She?

When Zoe departed from my beloved Rasputina to pursue personal expressions in the realm of classical music, like a needy dog- I willingly followed. I wasn't sure what to expect of Zoe Keating's show at Le Poisson Rouge on Sunday night. All I knew was, I have been sitting with and listening to "One Cello X 16" and "One Cello X 16: Natoma" as well as "Into the Trees" for quite sometime now, and it's fair to say, that I have become intimately involved with these songs. It's some of the only music in my entire world that can engage me into active meditation. Almost every morning I have Zoe's melodic cellos droning on into the corners of my mind. The sound is the only sound that keeps the irritants of daily commuting at bay. I confess, I find Zoe's music SO engaging that (like most forms of meditation for me) if I don't stay actively focused... I will inevitably fall asleep from overexertion. It's to the point now when Zoe's track "Exurgency" has a Pavlovian effect on me! When it comes on, suddenly my whole body- regardless of where I am and what I am doing goes into a restive peace. My body slackens, instantly in relaxation mode. I visualize so much when her music begins its dance from my ipod to my headphones into my ears and beyond. I see mountain tops, trees, the ocean, busy city streets, crowded restaurants, caves on the side of an ever expanding ocean, I see the stars in the cosmos, there isn't anywhere I can't travel when Zoe's symphonic rush of cellos floods in! Bearing all this in mind, you can see why I was looking forward to finally getting the opportunity to see her in concert, but perhaps you also see my concern. I knew for a fact that this was going to be an extensive practice in active meditation!

She always had the best shoes...

As striking as ever, Zoe took to the stage with her shiny tan leather lace up boots, vertical black striped stockings, ruched grey pinstriped capri pants, a simple ruched black top, and an exceptional modern interpretation of an Elizabethan collar in swirls of white and french grey felt. The house went positively silent, as she began to play- what else- "Exurgency". I assume you know what happened next, my body slackened, a faint smile was painted across my mouth, and I was off into my own meditative realm, far outside of New York City- hell, far outside of any earthly plane. I am proud to say that although I was in a trance like state- Zoe's intricate cello work, paired with her tekkie prowess kept me engaged for the entire length of the show.

The music was inspiring, and hearing those songs live will reverberate for me for many years to come. Music without words become a soundtrack to my everyday life. I get to add my own heart and voice to the songs. I am allowed to provide my own visualizations, it's something I get to be a part of without violating the integrity of the song for someone else.

Zoe is a kind creative force of nature to be reckoned with. Her upbeat words and enthusiasm between her songs complemented her deliciously layered music. I felt welcomed and comforted. I noticed almost immediately how she and Todd Reynolds were incredibly similar, in that when the song was done she was snapped back into the room with us, as if she never traveled out of it. Then BOOM she would drag her bow across her instrument, and drag her right foot across the controls, and she was gone again.

I'm proud to say I traveled with her on these journeys. 

YES I got to meet her!

Some Choice Tracks from my recollection:

Exurgency.Tetrishead. Frozen Angels.

Escape Artist. Seven League Boots. Optimist.

Beethoven's 2nd Movement (I think? Some classical buff please correct me if I am wrong!)

Todd Reynolds at Le Poisson Rouge: 3/6/11

Todd Reynolds

I knew nothing of Todd Reynolds when I walked into Le Poisson Rouge tonight. I wasn't sure if I was going to be bored to death or have the very last fiber of my being split in half by disjointed ambient noise. What I received, however, was something completely unexpected. I was gently nudged awake into the well orchestrated composition of a singular violin, whose sound was filtered through a computer, which was looped, which was then played back, while the original violin played a different tune. The end result was an entire string and rhythm section of an orchestra being performed by a single human being. There were splashes of electronic drums to contrast the high pitch squeals of the sometimes joyous and other times mournful fiddle. Todd was a laid back man considering the sounds he created. He joked around with the crowd and even managed quite a few chuckles from his clever casual banter. His attitude, for me, made his music even more accessible.

Todd Reynolds, as far as I'm concerned- without any knowledge of instrumental compositions- was a total success. He put me at ease with one smile and had me at the edge of my seat while he played. His passion for the music turned on and off like a bipolar switch. It was an expertly designed and interesting concert.

Todd's playfulness was further amplified when he invited a random person from the audience to do a little improv music with him. What happened next, piqued my interest beyond belief. As the young man, who we learned was named Trevor took to the stage, Todd unveiled an odd looking white box covered in shallow round-edged square buttons. Todd smiled and asked Trevor if he had any musical experience. When Trevor responded with a "Yes", Todd smiled and said something along the lines of "Well, forget it!" and then asked if Trevor had ever played with a Lite Brite as a kid and likened the instrument to one (at the phrase Lite Brite, an entire generation gasped in nostalgic glee). 

What happened next, was remarkable. Trevor was instructed to hit a button on the little white box (we later learned it was called a "Menome"). The single button instantly lit up while a sequence at the top began to blink and strum notes that sounded a lot like violin chords. An improv jam of sorts commenced with Trevor playing on the little white contraption while Todd switched between plucking his violin like a ukulele & a more  traditional stance of playing. It was so interesting, light hearted, fun... and it actually SOUNDED GREAT!

I may have entered a stranger to Todd Reynolds and his unique sound, but I left, a fan.      

This is a 15 second blip from a song titled "Crossroads"
which was my favorite track of the night.