Boxstep – By now even trees (Homesleep)
This promising E.P from the Pittsburgh 8 piece sounds particularly fantastic, since I’ve been listening to Heart 106.2 all day in the office. I have Elton John’s ‘Are You Ready for Love’ stuck in my head on a permanent basis, but thankfully this Boxstep record is ferocious enough to banish memories of John from my head for the full 24 minutes of its duration.
‘Fortune Cookies’ begins with great energy and purpose, with penicillin organ battling fiery guitars and violin, culminating in a drowsy puddle of hypnosis. Twice. There’s plenty of accordion here too, always a good thing, particularly in the crashing instrumental ‘The Tenting Effect’.
‘French Architecture’ starts menacingly but the chorus is cluttered, with all eight members of the band trying to make themselves heard. The ‘angelic male and female harmonies’ promised on the press release don’t quite materialise. Eric Graf’s vocal is purposeful and direct, but grittier and flatter than an angel’s voice. When Sarah Siplak, with her near-celestial vocals, takes lead on ‘Western Exit’, the band produce their best results. A very promising taster, better than recent Elton John, and not totally unlike Knife in the Water, Mekons, Willard Grant Conspiracy and Gorky’s. Their live shows should be very good, and a UK tour is likely later in the year.
Bright Eyes, Shepherd’s Bush Empire, 7.8.03
A trumpet solo marks Conor Oberst’s arrival on the stage. The girl in the row behind me, five seats to the left, howls her approval and I await her larynx to land on my lap. Next moment, a contagious wave of shushes slaps quiet the selfish chatter at the bar, for St Conor is about to sing!
He sings and I sigh, for it is evident that this beautiful venue has robbed his performance of its intimacy and its urgency. Almost three years ago I saw Bright Eyes in San Francisco and he was in superb form. He scolded the audience for not paying respectful attention to the opening band (Azure Ray, with whom he played backing guitar) and transfigured his anger into a range of fantastic solo songs. The lyrics flipped from the ramp of his swollen lips and his spit threatened the enchanted front rows.
Oberst’s greatest strengths, and indeed also his weaknesses, are to be found in his songwriting. He is a confessional, emotional and unpredictable writer and these qualities make his albums compelling. His nervous quavering, thankfully toned down in recent releases, are irritating on record but when performed with conviction, create an enormous stage presence.
He is, after all, a fascinating character. Is he genuinely self-loathing, depressed, and prone to hysterical angst - ‘everything I make is cheap and trite’ - or is he quite subversive – his staged radio appearance on "Fevers and Mirrors" suggests a talent for self-parody and humour. Tonight, sadly, his stage presence barely registers. There’s no banter, no jokes, no wit and no personality. He just stands there, slightly hunched, getting on with the job, and it is difficult to care for him. He neither irritates nor charms, and he isn’t helped by the fact that, tonight, the Empire is imitating a microwave oven and his lyrics emerge from the speakers damp, spongy and barely decipherable.
Otherwise, there’s little else wrong with the songs – solid arrangements, great variety and many enjoyable moments. The new songs promise that Oberst will fulfil his promise as a political songwriter (evidence of these talents are best demonstrated in his side-project Desaparecidos). He commentates on the war in Iraq as a disillusioned armchair spectator, and mixes the personal with the political with ease. In one verse he describes making out with a girl on the floor of his living room with the war on the TV in the background. Elsewhere, he muses about celebrity and its costs; the status, the travel and the money, but also the homesickness, the loneliness and the neglect of his old friends.
As competent as his band may be, Bright Eyes is essentially Conor Oberst, and perhaps more solo touring would allow audiences to see more of his personality. He is a brilliant young talent, but on too many occasions tonight he was quite boring.
Misplaced Music – Sampler – Spring / Summer
Matthew Lee
Giving Leeds its own rock festival every summer has put the city back on the music map. I attended the northern leg of the C****** festival two years ago, and although it was nice to see PJ Harvey and Mogwai, it wasn’t such fun watching beered-up skinheads set fire to portaloos, and stealing Yo La Tengo t-shirts from my tent (true story).
A million miles away (figuratively of course, we’re still in West Yorkshire) from this nonsense are Misplaced Music, an independent label born in Duluth, Minnesota, but now, weirdly, relocated to Leeds. Primarily showcasing the talents of bands from these two cities, the label motto is, ‘You don’t have to be from Duluth or Leeds to be a band on Misplaced, but it helps".
Their first release, a beautifully packaged split 7-inch from January 2002, featured Low’s ‘David and Jude’, an extremely brief, lovely, live favourite, opposite Vibracathedreal Orchestra’s ‘Stole Some Sentimental Jewellery’, a Julian Cope endorsed drone jam session.
Confusingly, two of the three Hood songs on this compilation are picked from a compilation of Hood songs that are on compilations. ‘Winter Will Set You Back’ is a mournful, sincere ballad. 1998’s ‘The Weight’ sounds like a sabotage attempt on a nursery rhyme, cut-up, sewn back together and then thrown to the wolves. Best of all is ‘Cross the Land’, where the Matt Elliott effect can truly be felt - the track appears to double in volume about halfway in, and then get ripped to pieces by broken glass and wood splinters.
The standout track on the compilation is ‘Grapefruit’, by Nebraskan singer/songwriter Simon Joyner. A lethargic, weary and woozy joy, dragging along at half-speed, with Joyner straining his voice to keep up with the lack of pace.
Dakota Suite, another Leeds band, provides the album’s centrepiece, ‘Narcolepsy Lake’ a divine piano instrumental. Time for Rodeo’s ‘It’s a Breeze’ is fascinating, like a hillbilly Danielson Famile. Charlie Parr’s ‘Henry Young’s Body’ is a slice of country blues with a 6-string acoustic guitar and a harmonica. His traditional American folk music is worlds away from Hood’s experimental electronica and demonstrates Misplaced’s willingness to greatly vary their output. This brilliant compilation has been hogging my stereo for the past few weeks, and I eagerly anticipate their future releases, especially since a record from the amazing Court and Spark is promised in the future.
posted by Matthew at 1:41 PM
