Live Review: Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band

Artist: Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band
Venue: Brisbane Entertainment Centre
Date: Thursday, March 14, 2013 

I’ve never been one for the big spectacle. You know, the big show, the lights, the clichés and the lack of intimacy. I’m more about the modest settings. Still, there’s a first time for everything, or so potential would have it. And before you ask; no, I don’t include Radiohead in that company.

Bruce Springsteen is an interesting proposition. There are not too many artists who were seemingly dead and buried as Bruce supposedly was during the ‘90s. In any case, the ‘90s seemed like a point he needed to reach before he could get to where he is today, namely back with yet another incarnation of the revered E Street Band.

As we embark upon our seats – situated to right hand side of the stage in the nosebleeds – it becomes clear that Bruce isn’t so crazy about the ‘spectacle’ after all. Again, the lights, the clichés and the lack of intimacy along with all the fancy stage props that would take a fleet of trucks night and day to load and travel up and down the coast line. There’s none of that rubbish. The stage could be described as bare bones even, or as bare bones gets for a 17 piece band.

As the lights go out a massive hubbub erupts, probably the loudest I’ve ever heard from a crowd that is the most demographically widespread I’ve ever been a part of. Bruce hasn’t even hit the stage and yet mundane pinnacles are met.

Bruce and the band enter and break into Wrecking Ball opener, ‘We Take Care of Our Own’. The sound is inch perfect. There’s no sign of Bruce or his band acknowledging the sound techs to adjust volume. In fact this doesn’t happen once throughout the show (they’re obviously paid well and have been with the Boss for years).

He then breaks into a Saints cover, ‘Just Like Fire Wood’ which is yet another added to the long line of covers he and the E Street Band have delivered over the years. Following this is Wrecking Ball’s title track, perhaps the highlight on the album, with its anthemic chorus containing the slashing power chords, tonight provided by Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello, whom is assuming the role in place of Stevie Van Zandt, who is off playing mobster in Norway, filming the second season of Lilyhammer.

There were many eyebrows raised when it was announced that Morello would stand in. More power chords and less wah-wah doesn’t seem like Morrello’s gig, however he shines even producing backup vocals, and brilliantly too, to ‘The Ghost of Tom Joad’; almost his surrogate child, as it becomes clear that it was Tom’s decision to include it on RATM’s Renegades cover album back in 2000.

Highlights still fill the memory whilst writing this. Without running through the whole set list (believe me I could), ‘Spirit in the Night’ and ‘The E Street Shuffle’ is a one two punch of soul rock, obviously bulked up since their respective births in the early ‘70s. Jake Clemons (nephew of the late Clarence Clemons) shines as much as Morello, leading the brass section with his unremitting skronk-a-thon. Preceding these two tracks was The River’s ‘Human Heart’ which led Bruce to join his fans at the front in crowd surfing from the back of the general admission all the way back to stage. Yet gain, it’s another first; a 63 year old crowd surfing. I don’t even think Iggy Pop has done in his '60s, although I’m happy to be proven wrong.

‘Johnny 99’ is one of Springsteen’s most opaque tracks even written, in my opinion. Even on Nebraska is seems an odd fit. On record it’s a stark folk number, however live, it’s transformed into this rainbow coalition of sound led by brass and soul, the whole band at the front of the stage as one doing their thing. 

 

During the night each E Streeter has his/her own moment of glory. Sooz Tyrell, earlier in the night, with ‘We Take Care of Our Own’. Garry Tallent - Mr. Consistent - providing tempo in conjunction with Max Weinberg. Roy Bittan’s moment is definitely ‘Thunder Road’, as Bruce unleashes his tirade of narrative intertwined with Bittan’s melodic piano fills which are prominent throughout Born to Run.

The encore is filled with Sringsteen's hits. Preceding another Wrecking Ball number in ‘We Are Alive’, ‘Born to Run’ is phenomenal, packed with the panache of Nils Lofgren and Morello’s guitars, while Clemons once again displays a confidence on saxophone which appears to be beyond his years.

‘Dancing In the Dark’ is met with the biggest cheer of the night (the 90 year old man sat in front of me is up as quick as Jack Flash, bless him!) while ‘Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out’ is a welcome surprise that closes the night with Bruce once again getting friendly with his audience.

It’s one of those gigs that no matter where you are in the audience, no matter what is played, it astounds. Simply put, it’s the most democratic show I’ve witnessed. Bruce Springsteen, although maligned in some quarters, is as close to a lovable ‘rock star’ as you’re going to get these days. No ego, he is who he is. His ideals are sincere and whether you cast him off as a nostalgic pin-up boy for baby boomers or a limousine liberal is pretty much irrelevant to the essence of the man himself. The ideals Springsteen presents will perpetuate throughout generations. He’s about the music and that's what matters.

It’s fair to say that Bruce Springsteen wouldn’t be where he is today without the wonderful E Street Band. In turn, they wouldn’t be where they are without him. Springsteen needed to do his own thing in the ‘90s. It’s almost as if he had the realisation of “you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” We wouldn’t see the Bruce Springsteen of today in the same light otherwise.

As a unit, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band is the tightest band I think I’ve ever seen. Bruce seemingly orchestrates every note. It’s a proper ‘show’. It’s something special and I feel privileged to have witnessed such a thing. I’m still not sure whether you could call it a spectacle. That’s what makes it so damn good.

Photos from: www.brucetapes.com.

By Simon K.

 

Live Review: The Wedding Present

Artist: The Wedding Present:
Venue: The Zoo
Date: Saturday, March 2, 2013

The Wedding Present is one of those acts who don't gain the attention they truly deserve. In terms of their British counter parts from the same era, acts such as A.R. Kane, Pale Saints, and The Chameleons also have the right to be aggrieved at their lack of appreciation over the years.

David Gedge is something of the wordsmith. His perpetual topic of love and relationships never grows old when you hold an ear to a Wedding Present tune. I once remember reading an article in the NME about Jason Pierce of Spiritualized and Spaceman 3 fame. Paraphrasing, it basically stated that he was a one trick pony, but what a trick it was. David Gedge performs that very same trick, however I think he had the baton before Mr. Pierce, who added his own take to the misery his subjects portray right after taking it from Gedge.

Around 70 inhabitants occupy the floor space of The Zoo. Another poor turnout, which is becoming more prevalent as each day passes in rainy Brisbane. I could blame it on the poor weather but I won't, as it wouldn't have altered the punter figure for better or worse. No, this crowd was filled with baby boomers letting their hair down, clapping after Gedge announces a song before even playing it. It is clear fandom with pretense left to flow down one of the few drain ways on Ann St.

The Wedding Present live is more of an abrasive experience. It reminds me of when I had the privilege of seeing The Constantines shortly before they called it a day. Even the feel is similar, that heart and soul attitude. David Gedge and his band, whom of which hail from three respective countries, are tight. Very fucking tight, actually. They give each other warm acknowledgements throughout, as George Best and Hit Parade 1 & 2 are heavily relied on from TWPs catalogue.

Among the highlights include 'Everyone Thinks You Look Daft', 'My Favourite Dress, 'Flying Saucer' and 'Blue Eyes'. The material from the band's newest release, Valentina, is almost scarce, apart from the album's highlight and closing track, 'Mystery Date', which sounds every bit as good as as it does on record. 'Brassneck' from the venerable Bizzaro is also rollicking.

David Gedge interacts with the crowd quite well throughout. You can tell he is proud and confident of his art and why shouldn't he be? Asking for a tissue to blow his nose (first time for everything) while also having some banter with a Stone Roses fan who still appeared to be buzzing from their performance at the Riverstage 24 hour earlier. Despite the almost skeletal "crowd", Gedge appears to be enjoying the night for what it is.

There's something dehumanizing about seeing a bunch of 50 somethings of the male variety wigging out at the front of stage. It's almost like a bid to relive their youth. That's not me having a pop and throwing a blanket over a generation, either. Quite the opposite, in fact. That will most likely be me in 20 years. And that's more than okay. These dudes are all about the music. Something that's currently lost among the masses these days. I thank The Wedding Present for bringing it to the people for the people. They owned, so much so that considering the sparse amount of material I was familiar with (hadn't heard a note of the Hit Parade material), I'd rate this as one of the finest gigs I've been to in the last couple of years. Brilliant. Just brilliant. 

By Simon K.

All Tomorrow's Parties - I'll Be Your Mirror Curated by ATP & The Drones: Day 2 Journal

Now then, it’s time for day 2. I must say after a good night sleep I’m really looking forward to today. I noticed at the end of MBV that there were a lot of weary people dragging themselves around. I guess that was the heat. The lovely cleaning lady at our motel left the air conditioning on, so we were welcomed with some luxury. Even the floor was quite comfortable, although I must confess; I do like sleeping at the foot of the bed most of the time!

Today is a little different for me. I’m in my old man's backpack. It’s a better view from his shoulders, too, I must say. We get the same security guard who starts talking to me upon the entrance. He’s talking to me in a way that he thinks I don’t understand him. Wrong. Seems like a nice chap, so I’ll let any potential disdain slide.

As we’re through the entrance, I hear a lot of people whining about the transport. We were quite fortunate last night. Dad’s friend (and a really cool customer) pre-booked a taxi so we were catered for straight away. Easy. Judging by all this complaining, my dad might be right in his theory that people aren't happy unless they’re complaining about something. Anyway, again, I’m digressing. I’ll try not to do that too much.

Cam Butler and The Shadows of Love are first cab off the rank. I have to say that I'm impressed. It’s nice meandering music. It sounds like another band that my old man plays, the Dirty Three, I think their name is, but Cam and the Shadows are a little straighter forward. But straight forward’s good for me. Don’t get me wrong, I dig my Godspeed and that but for this time of the day Cam gets the job done.

I stick my head out and see we’re in the main arena again. It seems a lot cooler than yesterday. That will quell the masses having a whinge. My Disco is pretty great. My first experience of laser lights and it’s a riot! This My Disco lot is a hard bunch to pin down though. That can only be a good thing, accordingly to my old man.

Crime and the City Solution is yet another band my old man has been giving considerable attention to this past four weeks or so. There’s a big dude on the guitar and he has a lot of tattoos. He doesn’t look as scary as those cats from Swans, though. My dad keeps telling me they’re nice guys but I’m not so sure. You know those dreams I wanted about Tex? More like nightmares about Michael Gira.

Anyway, CATCS sound like a good Sunday afternoon band to me. This Simon Bonney character really knows how to sing while the lady on the violin - Bronwyn Adams - really plies her trade with some finesse. Simon must be damn hot up there, though, with his skivvy underlay. 'Six Bells Chime' might just be my new favourite song!

Next thing I know, I’m bouncing around in my old man's backpack. Guessing he’s in a hurry, and it quickly dawns on me as to why. The Stickmen. I think it’s the band he's most looking forward to. That’s all he’s talked about in the last week. It’s driven my mum insane, although she’s also admitted prior to the event that she’s rather smitten with these dudes. After a couple of notes, I have to say that you can throw me in the same boat. These guys are rocking. They play a song called ‘Shoot to Kill’. Wow, really my saucer of cat milk, this. Apparently it’s the first show they’ve played since the nineties, too! My old man’s bobbing up and down in a room that’s emptying by the song. I can dig that though, I start jiving in the backpack, too. It’s fun!

So, why are people clearing out by the song? I think it’s because The Drones have started while The Stickmen are still doing their thing. Again, the old man is going all crazy, rushing back toward the main stage for The Drones.

We find out that Kev Carmody couldn’t make it and Gareth Liddiard (another of my favourites) announces that The Drones will be playing ‘River of Tears’ as a sort of tribute to the man. It’s damn good, too. My old man once again becomes disgruntled as it’s confirmed from a bystander that he’s missed his favourite Drones song, ‘Sitting on the Edge of the Bed Cryin'’. Well, pops, you can’t have your cake and eat it, I think to myself. I see my mum rolling her eyes. Man, she puts up with some petulance from this guy. Still, The Drones are pretty damn hot. Although my old man was sore I wasn’t, as they played my favourite song to finish, ‘I Don’t Ever Want to Change’. I didn’t tell dad, though. Anyway, it still looks as though he’s wigging out to The Stickmen. That’s all he’s telling anyone willing to listen. Saddo.

Fresh air appears to be the call, as we move to the direction of the restaurants on site. I am feeling peckish again, although I’m not really keen on cheesy chips, despite how awesome they tasted yesterday.

I’m not too keen on pizza either but that’s what I get. Ham and pineapple. The ham is a little dry. Mum gives me the leftovers of her cappuccino. Don’t you just love the froth? We hang out here for a while. The ‘rents are shooting the breeze with various associates. It’s cool. I’m glad for the fresh air and all their friends seem really cool. Being little and dare I say it, cute, I attract a bit of attention from the local punters. What can I say? I can’t help my looks, as egotistical as that sounds.

It doesn’t appear that the ‘rents are too keen on Pere Ubu. What can I do? I’m not driving this bus. In any case, my boy and his band are next up. Beasts of Bourbon. My man, Tex Perkins. Kim Salmon’s back too. I like his surname, but that’s just because I like the food. Fancy Feast do a good salmon broth, just for future reference. Anyway, Tex and the boys roll out and start crashing into "The Axeman’s Jazz". Tex is up there all manly, singing about rail works and being a drop out. He’s not moving too much, but what do you expect? Iggy Pop? There’s only one Iggy, folks. No, I’m happy with Tex, his voice is something to be reckoned with it. It’s fierce, but a good fierce. I like the song about living in Yobsville surrounded by asbestos houses. I can kind of relate to that, but don’t tell my dad; he thinks the builders took all the asbestos from our roof!

So the crowd’s thinning. It doesn’t look as packed as yesterday, but from the view of the backpack, I could be wrong. Einstürzende Neubauten is the act closing out the event. I’ve seen a few people wearing their shirts from my various peaks this weekend.

Blixa Bargeld is kind of the epitome of bourgeoisie in an ATP sense. Whatever that means. I like the first song. He’s singing about meeting up in the garden. Well, Blixa, if I wasn’t subject to strictly being a house cat (this trip aside, of course), I’d be there shooting the breeze with you, man. The third song is rocking too. I’m starting to dig this European thing. Four songs in and the ‘rents call it a night. I consider getting a little teenager and start stamping the paws, but what can you do? Fair’s fair, they’ve exposed me to the outer worlds of ATP and for that I have to say I’m thankful.

We leave the premises and there’s more buses than you can poke a stick at. What’s with the complaining earlier? Guys need to chill a little more and enjoy the experience. It’s certainly that. I had a ball. I hope I can come to ATP again. Who knows, maybe ATP can have a pet area where we’re all subject to hanging out listening to some post-rock and feasting on some cat buffet? Now that’s something I’d endure another horrendous plane journey for. Thanks, ATP. You’re the greatest!

By B "BB' K-M

All Tomorrow's Parties - I'll Be Your Mirror Curated by ATP & The Drones: Day 1 Journal

Ever since I was brought into the 'fold', my owner has always waxed lyrical about All Tomorrow's Parties. So much so that when "ATP" announced they were bringing their I’ll Be Your Mirror series over to Australia and more specifically, Melbourne, he insisted I join him and his better half (for all intents and purposes I guess you could call her my mother) for the ride. I was scared, as planes really aren't my thing. I thought to myself, this shit better be worth it.

It doesn't start off too bright, I must say. The guy doesn't even declare me in the hand luggage! Talk about more front than Myer! I'm made to stick it out in the main luggage amid knickers and socks! Poor form on his behalf and let me tell you, if I could use one of those Iphone things, RSPCA would be straight on the case. I'm a forgiving kind of girl, though.

Once we check into the motel (again, I'm ‘concealed’) and settle, we make our way out for breakfast. The leftovers my "dad" gives me after breakfast on Brunswick St. sure do hit the spot. It beat that Science Diet nosh they've been serving me for the last six months. Hash browns and bacon; my sort of combination!

So here we are. The big moment; it’s onward ho to the venue in Altona. As we line-up, they’re searching people’s bags and whatnot. I’m quite worried, considering my old man went all subhuman and tossed me in with his underwear and socks on the plane journey. Plus I'd heard him say that these security guards have a tendency to be quite aggressive in the form of failing anger management and what have you. The only comfort I have is that the ‘rents don’t seem too bothered and seem prepared to play a straight bat with me as the third wheel.

So I stick my head up out of my mum's handbag to see what's going on and the security guard's eyes meet mine. Uh Oh, I thought. He gives a smile and a little stroke and ushers us all through, no problems whatsoever. I guess ATP class themselves as advocates for Animal Rights. I wish they'd educate my old man in that arena. No, seriously, he's not so bad (he feeds me Fancy Feast sometimes!).

The main arena is kind of cool. There’s plenty of room to roam about for a girl like me; however I'm still a bit apprehensive as to whether I'm supposed to be here. The security guard sure did seem nice, though! I do remember my mum saying that I would be subject to her handbag for the festival's duration. I don't mind. As long as I hear some My Bloody Valentine, I'll be happy. I do like those guys!

So out of the two stages we hit what apparently is the smaller one first. I don’t really like dark places but having ‘the ‘rents’ beside me makes it bearable. The sound adds comfort to the scene, too. Strangers From Now On. Not a bad band name, I must say. They deliver a sound that I know the old man would dig and I did hear him wittering on to my mum about comparisons such PJ Harvey jamming with Godflesh. He’s forever doing that, drawing comparisons. I liked the girl’s vocals in this case, so I guess I’ll give him a tap on the shoulder when we get home to get some more PJ on the decks and even find some of this band’s catalogue. I wish I could use Soulseek!

We hit the main arena and God damn, it’s hot! Like almost as hot as that house fire I was in back in the day (that's why I really like my dad, he rescued me, along with my mum, but that's another story for another day).

Sleepy Sun are first up on the big stage (although judging by this heat, there ain't no sun sleeping!). I like their sound, the old man needs to play more of this on a Saturday morning when we’re chilling downstairs in the music room. I like psychedelic music, and sometimes I wish I was shooting the breeze in the ‘60s. Never mind. If this is the standard of music on display this weekend, then I’ll be happy just chilling in mum’s handbag, stifling heat or not!

Thee Oh Sees are next. Quite rocking by the sounds of it, too. I stick my head out and the main man was going pretty mental on guitar. I liked his tattoos, too. I wish my dad would get some ink. I kind of like people with tattoos. Just an observation, which is all I’ve got other than a few different ‘meows’. Sorry, I’m starting to digress. Where were we? Oh yes, Thee Oh Sees. Not bad. I don’t think these sounds fill my living space though. Again, I must bring this up with the old man when we get home. Dude needs to stop playing Neurosis records and start broadening his horizons, methinks.

With all the hot air and lack of air conditioning, I really feel like a snooze. Mum buys me a cold bottle of water which I lick the outside of just to keep the fluids up, but man, the waves of tiredness are really setting in. I guess it was that infamous dreadful flight, huh?

Anyway, I’m almost asleep when this cacophony of noise startles me, kind of like when my dad gets out the cat box to take me to the God damn Vet! The sound is relentless. The end of the world is coming! I take a peak out of mum’s handbag bag and see six guys on stage who all look like they’ve just escaped from prison! It's quite scary sight for a defenseless soul such as me. I’m pretty sure my old man would have them covered if worst comes to worse. Hmm, maybe not. They might the nicest guys in the world? I also have a peep to my right and there is no other than Tex Perkins standing next to us. You're going to ask "how do I know Tex?" Good question: I stumbled across his photo on some linear notes my old man had lying around. "Black Milk", I do believe. Tex's still got it, hasn't he?

Again, digressing. Sorry. Okay. Swans. This is 90 minutes of pure relentless guitar music. I start getting a little woozy after about 45 minutes. I see my dad sporting ear plugs and that he can't take his eyes off the stage. He’s mesmerized. He’s been playing Swans albums all week in anticipation for this so I knew some of the stuff (well two out of the six songs which were released anyway, so I'm told). He was telling me how they were going to be loud (he does talk to me; he probably thinks I don’t know what he’s on about. Same with mum, too). I’m pretty sure Swans are his highlight of ATP so far. They’ll probably be the last band I can hear for the rest of my life. I think my ears have suffered damage as a result.

So Godspeed! You Black Emperor is another band my old man’s been gibbering on about for the best part of three months. Man, they seem like a nursery rhyme compared to Swans. Still, my dad’s been hitting the discography pretty hard so I’m quite familiar with the sounds. He keeps telling me that ‘Moya’ is one of the best representations of post rock and I’m pretty sure they play this song judging by his little bitch squeals. He does that sometimes when he’s excited. My mum was digging, too. A beautiful moment, I’d say. At this stage, I’m getting a bit peckish, though. I can smell the cheesy chips all the way from the other side of the building. A feline’s prerogative.

My old man must read my mind because that’s exactly what he bought himself! I get the leftovers and I have to say, they are the business, especially the left over cheese at the bottom of the box. A bit hard get a hold of with my teeth but patience is a virtue. I was getting a whiff of nicotine through the air, too. Some of my parents’ mates are smoking. I think that’s what it is. Each to their own, though, right?  

When we venture back into the main arena the inspiring sounds from the second stage draw a pale look on my old man’s face. He seems genuinely disgruntled then he starts mumbling profanities about missing The Dead C. Food over sounds. I guess he regrets the cheesy chips. Just quietly, I don't. My mum is probably somewhere in between.

She is looking forward to My Bloody Valentine the most. I am, too. Like I said earlier, they are certainly my cup of tea. They don’t disappoint. I’ve never heard anything sound so rocking and beautiful at the same time. I’m glad my dad gives them a good deal of airspace back at home. I think he knows I like them as much as he does! He's always saying to my mum how ‘To Here Knows When’ is one of the best songs ever written. After hearing it (or I assume I hear the song he’s talking about judging again by his little bitch yelps), I’d agree with him, despite my tenure as a music enthusiast being quite short.

It was a good end to the day, MBV. The taxi ride home’s interesting. There’s an “animals strictly prohibited” sign on the window of the taxi. I have to keep quiet until we arrive back to the motel where my bed awaits. I can't wait for tomorrow. Hopefully I dream about Tex.  

By B "BB" K-M

Day 2 to follow.

Book Feature: Two Weeks With Tom Robbins

From the start of his career right up until now, Tom Robbins has polarised opinion. The main consensus is that you either love him or hate him. After indulging in his works for the first time I’d have to say that I sit somewhere in between.

Two of his more notable works, Still Life With Woodpecker and Jitterbug Perfume, have both occupied space on my ‘to read’ shelf for the last 12 months. When I read an author for the first time I like to read two or three of his/her books straight up; the reasoning behind this is to get a feel for the style, basically.

Robbins’ style is basically defined by the fact that he doesn’t really have one. You know, "the rules are that there are no rules" mantra? That's Tom Robbins, folks. I guess you could see it too ways. 1) He’s a genius; or 2) His almost too smart for his own good. To me art shouldn't be about boundaries. It's seamless. Tom Robbins is not only an artist, but a damn god one at that. Love him or hate him, you can't deny the fact.

Reading various interviews with the elusive man and it's prevalent that contradiction is the focal point of his themes. After reading the two above titles it’s hard to argue the case. Simply put, SLWW was a piece I enjoyed immensely. Really enjoyed. The plot he cobbles together is something quite astonishing. Bomb makers, pyramids, social class distinction. How he comes to draw from such a wide array of things and executes it the way he does is almost a triumph in itself. The writing is brilliant, too. Proper prose.

Jitterbug Perfume draws on similar themes but, in my opinion, the execution doesn't quite reach the heights of its predecessor. I personally think there are a lot of unnecessary moments throughout Jitterbug. In saying that, though, during some of these moments, there are passages where you could almost feel words dripping off the pages. The man can write and indeed, write like no other. It's almost as if he's toying with his readers. It's almost as if Robbins thinks it's too easy to write something more 'user-friendly' in the vein of a Murakami or De Lillo. In context, it's kind of like Mike Patton doing Mr. Bungle instead of Faith No More.

Drawing on various social demographics, Tom Robbins adopts and intertwines fantasy, sexuality, spirituality and mashes it up with a splash of a humour on top. SLWW is certainly a benefactor of this chaotic jumble. Jitterbug, probably not so much, but still, some class it as his finest work. Out of any fiction writer I've read thus far, Robbins presents a spiritual tone like no other.

So I’m two down. You could say it's one-a-piece. If I was to describe Tom Robbins as anything I’d say he’s probably literature’s answer to Lester Bangs. It could be far worse, right?

By Simon K.

Live Review: A Place To Bury Strangers

Artist: A Place To Bury Strangers:
Supports: Pearls, The Rational Academy
Venue: The Zoo
Date: Wednesday, January 23, 2013

The whole “New York City’s loudest band” tag was always destined to reduce expectation for someone indulging in an A Place To Bury Strangers live show. Although they didn’t tar the band with this brush, the statement is a  typical NMEism and is something the band will always live with, whether it be by people going up to them and stating the fact, or whether it be reading their own press release. I’m not here to state that I’ve have seen louder. That’s beside the point, really. The so called noise terrorism antics take away the real essence of an APTBS’ live show circa 2013.

If I’m honest, my initial thoughts of this band led me to believe they were a bit of a Mary Chain tribute act; however that was just laziness on my part. Their self titled debut is haunting, abrasive and just plain rocking. You’d be hard pressed to find a more solid debut record today. Sure, there’s a Mary Chain/Depeche Mode pastiche, but instead of downer you’re looking more toward upper, which is probably the most obvious contrast here. Nine Inch Nails could’ve used some of APTBS’ panache on their latter albums. It’s no surprise Trent Reznor handpicked the New York trio to support NIN around the States.

From their debut album, Exploding Head, was a subtle variation from its predecessor, tightening up a few loose ends, which result in the album’s title pretty much telling the whole story. Their third album, Worship, is a gem and hints toward the band refining their song-writing quality. This is probably front man, Oliver Ackermann’s finest journey as a song-writer. ‘Fear’ is one of the best songs they’ve written and live it translated brilliantly. Despite the various personnel changes, this latest line-up of Ackermann, bassist, Dion Lunadon, and drummer, Robi Gonzales, seem water tight, even if the latter two look like the bastard children of Richard Hell. In fact, that makes it all the fucking better!

Although live I did expect to have my head pulverized with ear splitting distortion and feedback, I wasn’t disappointed coming out the other side unharmed and empty handed with these preconceptions. APTBS are more than just a feedback drenching experience. Sure, songs such as ‘Drill It Up’ and ‘Revenge’ are rather good representations to those loosely associated with the band, but it’s tracks such as the finely crafted ‘Fear’ and the ethereal ‘Why I Can’t Cry Anymore’ that uncover a new layer previously unheard in the APTBS pantheon. Some songs live seem to lean toward an industrial hybrid that almost feel like chamber rock, which you can’t really gage on record. It’s a place where I expected to be taken to by Nine Inch Nails live, and sadly wasn’t. I’m rather glad APTBS filled the void, albeit surprisingly.

Overall, A Place To Bury Strangers presented a performance that translated into a different experience for me. But different is good and make no mistake, their performance was tight; a proper collective effort. Local support act, The Rational Academy, owned, too, on the back of their new album, Winter Haunts, presenting an experimental psych pop/shoegaze stomp, while Melbourne trio, Pearls, also had their moments. It was a good night for the minority that filled The Zoo’s floor space.

…Which leads me to end this review on a rather acerbic note and one I didn’t really intend to touch on, seeming as though this blog is designed for happy escapism. The attendance numbers were piss poor. Saying there were eighty people in the audience is stretching the truth. Okay, so times aren’t the healthiest, but that doesn’t stop the majority jerking off over the latest IPhone version and paying through the nose to endure such an empty pleasure. Thirty five dollars, people. And yes, you can bring your IPhone and update your Facebook status, I’m pretty sure there’d be reception.

For years Brisbane folk have pissed and moaned about being the ones to miss out on acclaimed touring acts. We are lucky enough Heathen Skulls’ Robert McManus has the vision to quash these notions yet we fail to extend our gratitude to people like him who actually seem to care and continuously bring international bands to Brisbane. Are we a community that isn’t happy unless we’re having a moan? Start showing some love otherwise soon enough there will be nothing to love.

Simon K.

 

Lost In Translation: Yo La Tengo - Summer Sun

 

 

One week after its release, and it appears Yo La Tengo have made the year’s first great album in Fade. However that’s not why I’m here today spruiking. Sure, it’s probably YLT’s best album for a while but today it’s one of their albums that still fails to gain the recognition it deserves as to why I'm here.

Born out of a similar realm, Summer Sun is one of those albums that you go back to after a couple of years and still shake your ahead as to why so many people place it toward the lower end of YLT’s discography.

Sure, personal choice is personal choice; however so many bands would give their right arm to make a Summer Sun. I guess it begs the question: have Yo La Tengo made so many great albums that Summer Sun deserves its place in the lower stratum of their cannon? I’m a Yo La Tengo fan, but even they’ve released some sub-par albums. For a start, Popular Songs, wasn't too popular for me, apart from the two tracks, ‘More Stars Than There Are in Heaven’ and ‘And the Glitter is Gone’, which, although very solid, admittedly play bridesmaids’ to I’m Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass’ ‘The Story of Yo La Tango’ and I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One’s ‘Deeper into Movies’.

Rather than go into further debate, let’s talk about an album most wish to forget.

Summer Sun is meandering. Some associate the term meandering as boring, passé. Almost middle-brow even. One question: what’s wrong with that? You need albums like Summer Sun. Your diet requires them. We can’t always hanker on a slice of pizza or a juicy steak. We need some garlic bread or a side of garden salad from time to time. Summer Sun is that garlic bread and, indeed, that garden salad.

The cover art conveys a peculiar juxtaposition. The picture of the band wearing coats looking awkward and generally elusive, despite the title of the album. This was the first thing that intrigued me when I first bought this album many moons ago.

‘Little Eyes’ is the perfect foil for  opening song, ‘Beach Party Tonight’; an atmosphere is set. It’s a gloomy beginning that sets the tone for the album. Tracks such as ‘Today is the Day’ and ‘Don’t Have to be So Sad’ (personally my favourite Yo La Tengo song) are easily among the best the band has produced. You can feel the darkness ooze from frontman, Ira Kaplan, as he almost struggles to deliver the vocal due to the emotional weight the song carries.

Then there’s ‘Let’s Be Still’. All 10 minutes and 22 seconds of it; the song encapsulates the album. It’s an interlude of noodling, with sprinkles of back alley jazz which in a strange way, is an illustration of Yo La Tengo, not such much by sound but by feel.

‘Take Care’ is one of my favourite covers. The Big Star track was made for Georgia Hubley it seems. It’s a gloomy rendition that finishes the album in the same tone it started.

So there you have it, that’s my two cents worth into why I think it’s an injustice that Summer Sun doesn’t receive the plaudits it deserves. Those of you who abandoned the album all those years ago, simply go back to it. Fade is great, there’s no question about it, but Summer Sun lies pretty close to it in terms of sound and feel. You may just be surprised this time around.

By Simon K.