Rilo Kiley @ Stubb's, 10/7/07

Music criticism is a highly subjective game, but I think critics should avoid reviewing acts that they feel too strongly about. Gush and bile are equally corrosive materials, harmful to both readers and writers. Those who choose to “champion” certain bands should do so with great care, lest what they write come off like something that should be sandwiched between pictures of teen idols in Tiger Beat.

That being said, OMG I cannot believe how amazing the Rilo Kiley show was last night. Or, in the least, how was amazing it was in my head. The band’s performance at Stubb’s marks the second time this year that I’ve seen a stellar set by one of my favorite musical artists that was — in objective reality — fairly average. First there was Stephen Malkmus shambling through Pavement songs with an acoustic guitar and Bob Nastonovich at the Pitchfork Music Festival (amazing, right?), and now this.

I could forget that Rilo’s latest release, Under the Blacklight, is listenable but ultimately disappointing. As the band kicked into “Smoke Detector,” I could shirk the uncomfortable churning in my stomach, caused by the knowledge that Jenny Lewis was about to sing “There is a girl in a tank top/She is not wearing a bra/She looks so hot out on the dance floor.” Jenny’s seeming inability to push the most emotional part of a song? When did that happen? Only during “A Better Son/Daughter,” “Spectacular Views,” “Does He Love You” …

All of this was negligible because I got to hear one of my favorite bands play the songs that matter to me.

Actually, I got to hear one of my favorite bands play the songs that matter to me because at one time they mattered to me more than any three minutes of pop music should matter. They mattered sincerely and earnestly, because they were songs that I loved and shared with friends and sang along with in cars.

But they were also songs in which I found solace during times of loneliness and deep snow. I don’t feel that way any more, and apparently neither does anyone in Rilo Kiley. Save for the soul-tinged “Silver Lining” and the Talking Heads-biting “Breakin’ Up,” Under the Blacklight lacks the heart-breaking specificity that powered the band’s past releases. Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett aren’t singing about themselves anymore, and instead they’re slinging sub-Lou Reed sludge about porn stars, wannabe Lolitas and girls in tank tops not wearing bras who look so hot on the dance floor Good God that is such an awful lyric.

During the show, I could’ve sworn that the band had opted not to play much of Blacklight and chosen to compose the setlist of material from the far superior duo of More Adventurous and The Execution of All Things. After the show, I realized I was wrong: They played damn near all of Blacklight, but since it was a long and satisfying show, the songs from the new record had entered one ear and escaped through the other.

I don’t want to be a “go back to the old stuff” kind of fan. I don’t want to discourage experimenting with new sounds or influences or subject matter; to paraphrase one of Rilo’s best friends and ardent supporters, they are not singing for me.

Still, I’m happy that they played “With Arms Outstretched” for me.

And now she knows she'll never be afraid to watch the morning paper blow into a hole where no one can escape

When I come to love a piece of music with the intensity that I’m capable of loving a piece of music, I like to try to be a part of it. That is to say, I like to sing/caterwaul along with every part, even the parts that aren’t played by human voices. It’s an exercise that bonds me to the piece, but in a vaguely superficial way. That is to say, sometimes the intensity of the love and my propensity for singing sometimes take precedence over a truly close listen.

Thus, I might miss some of the more subtler parts of certain pieces. But on the off-chance that I shut up, these nuances rise to the surface of my perception. So it was this evening when I was listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea and heard the hint of a shout at the end of “Oh Comely”(mp3). I hit the rewind button, cranked the volume, and to my surprise, heard the following:

“HOLY SHIT!!!”

This is no trite vulgarity. This might be the most meaningful holy shit I’ve ever heard. It literally ascends. It’s not a holy shit. It’s a
ho
LEE
SHIT!!!
(Well, I suppose it doesn’t ascend diagrammatically, but you get the idea)

I was not a fan of “Oh Comely” upon first listen. I thought it was too long, too loopy, and too much of a betrayal of the manic energy of the album’s first act. Hearing the holy shit was the final indication that I was so so so wrong. It also manages to confirm claims that the “In the Aeroplane” supporting cast watched on as Jeff Mangum layed down his guitar and vocals in one take. If you’d witness a man run the emotional gamut of his recorded masterpiece in one sprawling 8-minute, 18-second take, you might lay claim to the divinity of fecal matter as well.

Nothing better to do than liveblog the Grammys

9:04 p.m. Came in during Kelly Clarkson's performance. I really wish she would have done "Since U Been Gone" or even "Behind These Hazel Eyes". "Because of You" is a glorified "For A Moment Like This". I appreciate the fact that she wrote it, but it's still pap.

U2 wins for Best Rock Album. Makes sense, given their current influence over much of guitar rock these days. If Coldplay had won, I think Bono and the Edge still should have accepted the award.

9:09 p.m. Yay for Paul McCartney! I need to hear more of Creation and Chaos in the Backyard, but what I heard live I really enjoyed. "Fine Line" could be a later Beatles song or earlier solo song, and that's good enough in my book. The lights are pretty, too.

Dave Grohl's looking pretty clean cut.

Oop, reference to the Apple Building roof concert.

Holy shit, "Helter Skelter"! Should Jay Z show up on stage and do "99 Problems"? Nonetheless, more proof that there is no element of rock that the Beatles haven't influenced.

Could Sir Paul's drummer be any scarier? When they play "Eleanor Rigby", he sings backing vocals (nothing for him to play, duh!), and does this really bizarre dance near the back of the stage, out of the spotlight, all by himself. Creeeeeeeeepy.

9:17 p.m. Eff the Black Eyed Peas, honestly. Jeniffer Love looks waaaaaaaaaay out of place. Best Male R&B performance. I've got nothing to say. Jamie Foxx better not win, because...wait, what did that Black Eyed Pea just say? You're announcing the nominees, back off, man. Stevie Wonder? Nope, John Legend. Where did this guy come from? I'd heard his name bandied about, but had no idea he was 8-nomination caliber. Oooo, he works with BEP. Definite loss of cred. Kanye connections? Little bit of a boost.

Sly and the Family Stone get this year's tribute. Awesome. Black Eyed Peas probably manage to sneak their way in there. Not so awesome.

9:28 p.m. How out of touch am I that I didn't realize Mariah Carey had the biggest album of 2005? What was I doing messing around with this Sufjan Stevens crap? Nice to see she's not crazy anymore.

Thanks to the MSU journalism school's subscription to Knight-Ridder (or Knight-Rider, as I like to call it), here's some red carpet pics.


Death Cab For Red Carpet


In E!'s (damn that punctuation) red carpet coverage, as Ben Gibbard was being interviewed by a clueless DJ "Former Fiance of Nicole Richie" AM, they put his head in a little circle in the lower left-hand corner of the screen. Doni Rai(who?)'s junk took up the rest of the screen. Nicely juxtaposed, E!


Fiona looking...earthy


Dennis Hopper, still crazy after all these years?


Kelly Clarkson, classy in black


Not even being preggers will get between Gwen and leopard print


Kanye and mystery guest. No, really, KRT didn't identify her. MYSTERY GUEST!!!!!!

Wouldn't it be nice if Fiona won? Kelly can win, too. But what about Sir Paul? And everybody loves Gwen! But.......

Kelly Clarkson wins, as does non-ironic appreciation of "Since U Been Gone". Radio has been vedy vedy good to her this year. Girl can talk FAST.

What is that music they're playing to get the winners off the stage? Sounds like a rejected Miami Sound Machine demo. Baby, I live for loving you.

9:41 p.m. Dharma, get off of that coffee table! You're such a free spirit!

Un oh, pop country time. Keith Urban's Australian, isn't he?
Reference to highway in the first verse? Check.
That line about the cat reminds of me of 2Ge+her's "The Hardest Part of Breaking Up (Is Getting Back Your Stuff). Way to go, Nashville. You're ripping off a fake boy band.

Wasn't "The Lucky One" an Amy Grant song?

9:48 p.m. Remember when Santana won all those Grammys in '99? Those were the days.

I had no idea Sinatra founded Reprise. Bitchin'.

Please, don't let "Rich Girl" win.

Thank you. Or not. Yay to Jay Z, boo to Linkin Park. Can they go away yet?

Jay Z: Too cool to give a speech.

9:57 p.m. Oh, Dave Chapelle hosts Dave Chapelle's Block Party. Nice to see he can joke about his last few months. Tom Hanks sure enjoyed it.

Oh, different strokes for different folks.

Contrary to popular belief (in my apartment, at least), white British soul singer Joss Stone is not related to Sly or any of the Family Stone.

How could they not give any credit to Randy Jackson and Niles Rodgers playing in the backing band. Are they honorary members of the Family Stone?

Who is this singing with Fantasia? Did he just hit that note?

Adam Levine lookin' kinda Chris Carraba. Probably more soulful than any white guy has any business being

Look! will.i.am is dancing to the music! Get it?

Wait, Sly doesn't shout out M.C. Hammer in this song!

Robert Randolph, also getting no credit. Wait, wrong.

Classy guitar, Joe Perry.

Oh man...here comes Sly. Look at that mohawk! Turn up his mic for crying at loud!

He does not look like he's is good health.

Sly's performance? Anticlimactic.

Now it's time for a battle of egos. Who's going to diva all over this outro? I'm rooting for Niles.

10:14 p.m. It took them this long to give an award to Robert Johnson. Yikes

Seriously, can't Linkin Park just go away?

Jay Z giving a t-shirt shout-out to John Lennon. Nice.

"Yesterday" mash-up? That's right, I called the HOVA/Macca collabo! Makes me forget about Linkin Park. Almost.

Does this mean the remaining Beatles (and remaining Beatle families) don't mind The Grey Album?

10:25 p.m. Good segue to Springsteen through the Weavers lifetime achievement award. I don't know why I don't like the Boss (though "Born to Run" is a guilty pleasure of mine). This performance isn't too bad, I guess. I bet Dylan would approve.

10:32 p.m. I suppose "Devils and Dust" can win Song of the Year. Just not U2.

GODDAMMIT!!!

Ha ha, apparently someone thought Mariah Carey should have won.

I feel like I'm being kind of harsh on U2. As I do own and enjoy some of their records, I guess I shouldn't act like they're so bad. They are the consumate anthemic rockers. I just feel like they've fallen into a rut. And Bono's gotten too big for his britches. And those britches were already pretty good. And they do like Arcade Fire, so I suppose they've got good taste.

10:39 p.m. Kanye influenced by Michael Jackson? Get out!!!

Man, I didn't get the K.W. State J.F.U. thing. I am dumm.

I can't think of a more deserving Record of the Year than "Gold Digger". Definitely the pop song I associate with 2005.

Can we put the marching band fetish to rest yet? I think this performance is the pinnacle.

Is Kanye allergic to buttons?

10:48 p.m. I guess "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" kind of ruled the first half of 2005.

10:55 p.m. Yep, there's Christina sliding up and down the vocal scales. She sounds good, though. As does Herbie. 13 Grammys between the two of them. That's got to count for something.

Little virtuoso show from Aguilera-Hancock.

11:06 p.m. Common, Fiona Apple and Chuck D. Which of these things is not like the other?

John Legend wins Best New Artist. Comes out of nowhere, fated to return.

I bet Fallout Boy is heart broken.

11:08 p.m. Parade de la Muerto. I'm glad they don't do the applause thing like the Oscars.
Nope nevermind.

11:10 p.m. Chapelle should be doing the Richard Pryor tribute.

What was the deal with that zoom out?

11:20 p.m. U2 again? Album of the Year? Ugh. I guess the Grammys still suck.

If I was U2, I would not get in Kanye's way tonight.

Also, don't forget about New Orleans. Dr. John should be the mayor of New Orleans by now, right?

And "In the Midnight Hour" puts a cap on the evening.

She didn't enroll but she wiped the floor with all the arseholes

I really like the the new Belle and Sebastian; one might go as far as to say that it's really fucking good. This may be due to the fact that in order to get my State News review in on time, it's all I've been listening to the last two days. It may also be due to the fact that the girls in the liner notes are all amazingly cute. And wearing kilts. I can't find any online pics of them, but here's an adorable picture of the band:


Here's a few of my favorite songs:
Belle and Sebastian-The Blues Are Still Blue
Belle and Sebastian-Sukie In the Graveyard
Belle and Sebastian-To Be Myself Completely
(Buy it)

I'll reserve my opinion for the review, but tell me what you guys think.

Everybody's Talkin' At Me: Erik's Guide To Musical Conversation

Thanks for lending me the new Jenny Lewis CD, Jan. It's really fucking good!

It’s very easy to get your point across when writing about music. Talking about music, however, is a whole new ballgame. It can be difficult to vocalize your feelings about a particular song or record or whathaveyou, maybe because eloquence is fleeting in conversation, and there’s a rarely thesaurus on hand, etc., etc. The following are conversational standbys I employ (along examples of what may be actual conversation!), and though they don’t always work for me, they just might work for you!

1. Really fucking good-Probably lifted from Jack Black in High Fidelity, this is ascribed to the tunes that have earned my utmost respect. Emphasis is given to the word “really”, so much so that its phonetic spelling is “hreally”.

ex. Have you heard the new Broken Social Scene? It’s really fucking good.

2. So so so good-This is a specialty number, used exclusively in relation to live shows. Affect a tone of breathlessness; plenty of air should be released with the third “so”, and as a result, should make the speaker sound as if they are going to pass out.

ex. I couldn’t believe how well the New Pornographers translated to the stage. They were so so so good (*speaker collapses*).

3. Pretty good-For use when something hasn’t lived up to expectations, those expectations being set by both the speaker or other fans.

ex. Yeah, Plans is only pretty good. I probably shouldn’t have got my hopes up.

4. Eh, it’s alright-Once again, it’s all about the emphasis: draw that “i” out, make it nasally, and trail off. The speaker should have luke-warm feelings towards this entity. May also be used to obscure the speaker’s true feelings when said entity is too “mainstream” or past their prime or genuinely lame.

ex. Q: What are your feelings on Steven Page’s solo work?
A: Eh, it’s alright.

note: Nos. 3 and 4 may be used in together with No. 1. For instance, there are some songs on both Plans and Page’s The Vanity Project that are really fucking good.

5. (It/that/he/she/they) suck(s)-For use in the most dire of musical situations. Try to limit the times you play the “sucks” card, lest you appear to be an uber-opinionated douche. Not for use with ironic appreciation or guilty pleasures (try No. 4 for that).

ex. For crying out loud, “My Humps” S-U-C-K-S sucks!

We've got one thirsty songstress on our hands

Not from the show, but you get the idea

Feist and Jason Collett, Blind Pig, Ann Arbor, MI 1/24/06

While the Canadian Parliament may have shifted a little right of center this week, Canadian indie rock stayed put at a little right of awesome. Case in point, the show put on by co-Broken-Social-Scene-sters Feist and Jason Collett at the Blind Pig Tuesday night.

Collett began the evening with a lovely set of tears-in-your beer alt-country, composed of songs from his two Arts and Crafts releases, Motor Motel Love Songs and Idols of Exile (out in the States on Feb. 4). It was the most compelling performance from an opener that I’ve seen in a long time: they grow them passionate in Toronto (and a little drunk). Collett and his band even managed to keep the crowd’s attention when they were joined by one Leslie Feist (on drums, nonetheless). For those of you who may have given up on Wilco after A Ghost Is Born, I point you in Mr. Collett’s direction.

(Author’s note: I realize that Tweedy pretensions and on-stage drunkenness are COMPLAINTS that I have previously lobbed at Neva Dinova, but whereas Neva acted like the drunken unlce nobody likes when they opened for Rilo Kiley at St. Andrew’s, Collett was just plain affable)

I have been caught off-guard by many a rock star’s height and Feist is no exception; she’s really really short. That being said, she was carried from the back of the Blind Pig to the stage on a pair of shoulders (whose, I can’t be sure of, I didn’t get a good look), and retained that metaphoric stature for the remainder of the evening. Dressed in all white (no Canadian Labour Day?), she made Collett’s crowd control seem feeble by comparison. And let me assure you: the pipes you hear on Let It Die are Feist’s and Feist’s alone. The woman is a veritable vocal acrobat. Even the shottiest sound equipment couldn’t keep the voice down, though it was the source of some of her best on-stage banter.

Being familiar with only Let It Die, I didn’t recognize many of the songs Feist and her cohorts played (no research, this is concert-going/blogging, not real journalism), but I enjoyed them just the same. As for the songs I did know, I really didn’t know them, as they were given some new spins. “Secret Heart” was played as a Janis Joplin-esque blues-rocker (credit to Ben Johnson for the comparison) and the cabaret shuffle of “Mushaboom” was given extra guitar muscle. “Flick your lighters when you recognize this one,” Feist told the audience before her intimate acoustic re-re-envisioning of the Bee Gees’ “Inside and Out”. It took a verse and a bit of chorus for the flames to respond, but they did so en masse.

Of course, the best (like “Inside and Out”) was saved for the encore, which followed a set-closing jam with all the night’s musicians and Feist chanting something about cheetahs (question mark?) that I hoped against hope would turn into Broken Social Scene’s “Windsurfing Nation”. My prayers for some BSS were answered when Collett came to the stage one last time to play a Feist-led “fast version” of “Major Label Debut” (which you’ve PROBABLY HEARD...right?). There’s no way it could stack up to actually hearing it as played by the whole Scene, but it’ll do for now.

As her final act, Feist commissioned a grade nine slow dance (complete with the Blind Pig’s own mirror ball!) to take place around her as she played “Let It Die”. Tonight, Leslie Feist had the power to make indie kids sway before their contemporaries like the awkward 14-year-olds they still kind of are. Tonight, she stood tallest. It may be a little early, but I have a suggestion for Canadians who want to unseat the Tories: Feist for Parliament.

MP3's:
Feist-Mushaboom
Feist-Let It Die
Feist-Inside and Out
(Buy Let It Die)

Jason Collett-Blue Sky
(Buy Motor Motel Love Songs)

Oh no! It's Devo...2.0?

Good news for good little spud boys and donuts

I hope they manage to stay true to their good ol' culturally subverting ways and pick only the most inappropriate songs for the kids to sing ("Pink Pussycat", anyone?). A chorus of children chanting “Mongoloid” (mp3) has all the eerily hilarious potential of the Kidz Bop Kidz’ (Kidz’z?) “Float On” (mp3). Hands down the creepiest move by the Mouse House since the greenlighting of Return to Oz.


The kidz with Gerald V. Casale