In other news, three major record companies entered into a deal with Myspace in hopes of prolonging their death. STARVE YOU DINOSAURS, STARVE! I WANT TO SEE YOUR RIBS THEN KICK THEM!

The deal is of course, a total boner. Not that I’d want to, and I’d only have done it for a substantial six-figure fee, but I could’ve saved these companies millions and millions with a simple “no”—as in, “no, don’t do that, you fucking idiots.”

Why? It’s simple: Listening to music on Myspace sucks! Hell, listening to music on the web at all pretty much sucks. iTunes, which recently became the country’s top music vendor, works because it’s separate from the web. No ads, no dumb ass Flash everywhere, and, oh yeah, a fucking MASSIVE tie-in to the only MP3 players worth owning.

Seriously, do you want to buy music from Myspace? Shit, do you want to buy anything from them? Good God no. We’ll take a look to see if that hot girl is single yet and send a dumbass letter to our friend in Panama, but WE’RE NOT BUYING ANY MUSIC! FUCK YOU!

Certainly there’ll be some big technological overhaul, but I can’t imagine it’ll be sleek and unobtrusive enough to remotely challenge Apple. I’m sure it’ll be just the opposite: a big, clunky, clusterfuck. Sorry, suckers!

Granted, we do use the web to get music. I don’t know about you, but I like to get the music OFF my computer and AWAY from my desktop as soon as possible. RRRRRRRRR… I’m irked by the whole notion of more Myspace and music… Thank God it’s not going to work.

And so it is said.

As Ezra said, the mp3’s keep coming, and far be it from me to break that trend. Unfortunately this one comes with a bit of bad news…

Klaus Dinger passed away recently. Dinger formed Neu! and played occasionally with Kraftwerk.

Now hold on a second—we don’t have to look at this with gloom—let’s make it a celebration.

From The New York Times:

Exemplified in songs like the 10-minute “Hallogallo,” Mr. Dinger’s beat was a steady pulse that seemed to extend rock’s most basic rhythmic patterns infinitely. The beat came to be known as Motorik, an allusion to the industrial style then prevalent among German groups. (The name Kraftwerk means power station.)

You can read the whole article here, and while you do, let me suggest you also listen to “Hollogallo.”

Apparently Dinger never liked the term “Motorik.” His response:

“That sounds more like a machine, and it was very much a human beat. It is essentially about life, how you have to keep moving, get on and stay in motion.”

I have two reflections on Dinger’s style: 1.) Restraint like that is rarely found, and it’s awesome. It’s about playing together as a unit, setting ego aside and doing what works for the group and sound in a greater sense. 2.) Playing pocket beats like that over extended intervels becomes trance like… love it.

Cheers, Klaus!

In case you missed it, listen to “Hallogallo”

AMERICAN MUSIC CLUB, CARLA BOZULICH, GHOST TO FALCO
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Come have a whiskey with the ultimate sad drunk bastard, Mark Eitzel. Alongside sidekick/guitarist Vudi, singer/songwriter Eitzel and his awesome American Music Club will be tearing through some melancholy heart-squeezers at the Doug Fir tonight. Touring for their solid ninth full-length, The Golden Age, Eitzel & Co. have recently moved the band from San Francisco to Los Angeles and their new lineup reflects the migration. So while they have been less than prolific over the last decade, AMC will undoubtedly transport you back to all those lonely headphoned walks around campus at night, wondering why you can’t escape the ghosts of your failures. Ah shit, now I really want a shot and a chaser, maybe then I’ll be ready for all that beautiful misery. COURTNEY FERGUSON

MP3:
American Music Club - All The Lost Souls Welcome You To San Francisco

The fanfare that accompanied Imaad Wasif’s 2006 debut may have been accentuated by his status as the touring guitarist for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Folks who delved into the album, however, may have been surprised to find a songwriting mind closer in tone to Michael Gira’s, with acoustic instrumentation and a dry delivery exploring the darker avenues of human experience. Wasif’s latest, Strange Hexes, finds him joined by a full band (Two Part Beast) and veering into full-on electric territory, with jagged solos released across a cloud of feedback. It’s a more open sound, and while his music is certainly one that can channel obsessiveness, its moments of outstretched bliss and joy serve as a fine contrast. TOBIAS CARROLL

Here’s an inscrutable, and boring, video for “Oceanic,” from Strange Hexes, and while you’ll want to hear the song, you probably don’t want to watch this. Just click play and minimize the window while you do something else. (I will say, though, that I like the split-second where he swings a tennis raquet for no reason.)

I saw Wasif in June of ‘06 at the Towne Lounge, and he was remarkable. I expected a solo acoustic show, based on the material from his debut album, but he had a rhythm section in tow, and the guitar was firmly plugged in. He played gorgeous psychedelic rock, with spiritual undertones and generosity of spirit. If you’ve ever had a conversation about “guitar tone,” or if your favorite song from Neil Young & Crazy Horse’s Zuma album is “Cortez the Killer,” you’ll want to be at this show tonight, taking place at Plan B, which is the former Acme.

w/Reporter, Adrian H & The Wounds; Plan B, 1305 SE 8th, 8 pm, $5

…and the MP3s just keep coming. Local art-pop band Au just sent a sneak peak from their latest album (Verbs, out on June 26th) straight to Stereogum, which we then lifted, and reposted here.

Bottom of the blog food chain, ya’ll!

MP3:
Au - RR vs. D

If the rest of Verbs is anything like this song, I’m pretty damn excited.

Right now RCRD LBL is streaming three tracks off of Kensington Heights, the incredible new album by the Constantines.

First off, let me start by saying that Kensington Heights is without a doubt the best thing the Constantines have created. The record is the perfect blend of everything they’ve come to stand for: it’s slower yet somehow more rocking; the songs have much more of a blue-collar aspect to them, with the subject matter ranging from going to the doctor to architecture to, what else, relationship troubles; and the ballads are absolutely heartbreaking.

The opener, “Hard Feelings” is good, but for my money probably the weakest track on the album. Once track three, “Trans Canada”, kicks in, the album just steamrolls into greatness. And I literally mean steamroll. It just destroys everything in its path with restrained, subtle complexity.

If you don’t believe me, please go listen to “I Will Not Sing A Hateful Song” right now. When lead singer Bryan Webb comes in singing the title of the song on that second chorus it sounds as though his soul is literally about to break. The pain behind his voice is unparalleled, and just that one, brief moment makes this entire song heart-wrenchingly gorgeous.

So far they have no Portland date lined up for their upcoming tour, but hopefully that will change real soon. These new songs will absolutely kill live.

Here’s the new video for “4 Minutes” from Madonna (featuring Justin “EEEEE!” Timberake, and Timbaland). I’ve heard some grumblings about this song, but I really think it’s bumpin’, especially when teamed up with this video—but I’d love to hear what you have to say!

SUGGESTED TOPICS:
• Madonna’s plastic surgery: Acceptable or botched?
• Justin Timberlake: Super duper gorgeous or merely extremely gorgeous?
• Madonna’s nude corset: oui or non?
• Hopping around on top of cars: moral or immoral?
• That girl at the 1:07 mark: Starbuck?
• Flesh eating diseases: Attractive on celebrities?

Watch it and discuss (quick before they yank it off the web)!

THE CONTESTANTS, SEA CAVES, WELSH RABBIT
(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) While the Empty Set was never a band to restrain itself when it came to pop choruses, the new project to rise from their ashes, the Contestants, have refined their skills to an entirely new level. On their brand new long-player, A Fitting Retreat (which is released tonight), the quintet’s harmonies are layered thick, the tempo is loose, and the influence is set squarely on Alex Chilton. It’s a bit too mature to fall under the category of bubblegum pop (more Big Star, less Box Tops). Instead, it’s classic power pop with mammoth hooks, sans the guilt of listening to something so indulgent. EAC

MP3:
The Contestants - Cosmonaut

Seriously, if B.A. Baracus tells you to do something, you damn well better do it.

While Dead Moon is now resting comfortably in the big punk rock graveyard in the sky, we thankfully can still get our Fred and Toody fix via their latest incarnation, Pierced Arrows. But if you still miss the Moon, New York’s WFMU has posted an excellent live set from the band. Recorded for the station in 2001, the seven song set is available for download, so go nuts.

MP3:
Dead Moon - 40 Miles of Bad Road (live at WFMU)

A few quick hits for this Thursday:

1.) Saw the Cribs last night and couldn’t believe they were playing a 21+ venue. They make music for teenagers. Jeff Lewis, on the other hand, makes music for people of all ages. His opening set, which we missed a substantial chunk of, was brilliant. Can’t wait to see him again—hopefully in a headlining slot in someone’s basement.

2.) Buzz abounds in response to Jay-Z’s monster contract with Live Nation. For the most part, who cares? Smaller groups that don’t stand to profit on letting the corps get involved, DON’T LET THEM TOUCH YOUR TOUR! They don’t deserve a fucking cent of it. Let those fucking dinosaurs starve to death.

However, there was one odd bit of the Jay-Z article:

“In a way I want to operate like an indie band,” (The Jigga Man) said. “Play the music on tour instead of relying on radio. Hopefully we’ll get some hits out of there and radio will pick it up, but we won’t make it with that in mind.”

Excuse me? You want to what? Then how exactly does a $125 million dollar contract with a gigantic corporation fit into this plan? Sorry brah, nice try.

3.) This aint music related, and may not come across as well as it did in the interview, but it made me flap around my apartment last night. Head of Blackstone investment group Pete Peterson (yes, that’s his real name) told Charlie Rose this story about Kurt Vonnegut and his publisher at a party thrown by a hedge fund:

Vonnegut to his publisher: Doesn’t it bother you that these people have made more money in a day than you have selling “Cat’s Cradle” all over the world?

Publisher: No, I have something they don’t have.

Vonnegut: What could you possibly have they don’t have?

Publisher: I know when I have enough.

Brilliant. Beautiful. And with that, Good Day.

Oh, hello there Hometapes.

The Colorado label (home to Pattern is Movement, Slaraffenland, among others) has pulled up stakes and is now joining the mass indie exodus to our darling city. The label’s Sara Padgett Heathcott explains the move…

My husband Adam and I run Hometapes - and his day job (Wieden + Kennedy) has brought us to town. Well, that, and a city that we’ve basically been wooed by. :) The prospect appeared to us last Fall, and we’ve been doing everything we can to bring our frequently-moving operation (Georgia to Florida to Colorado since 2004) to Portland…somewhere we hope to stay for a while. Though we toured all over the US in our old band way back when, Portland was always a little too far for us to afford to make it up to. We had many friends from our Arkansas home come in and out of the city, had been told tales, and knew the bands and labels that made up the pile that’s put the city on our map. But, still, it’s very new to us; we’re like little kids, visiting a place with magic weather, storybook plants, nice people, good food, and so much music and art our heads will probably explode.

Welcome to Portland, and here’s hoping your heads do not explode.

Last night as Loch Lomond took the stage at Holocene, we sent the very talented Liza Lubell to take some photos of their set. Enjoy!

I’ve been spoiled.

Last night’s show at Holocene, featuring The Ruby Suns, Le Loup, and Loch Lomond, was good. Not “Bastards of Young” good, but good. So why I have been spoiled? I’ve seen the Arcade Fire live.

First off, The Ruby Suns were excellent, despite main man Ryan McPhun looking like the cold he had was kicking his ass. At one point, during an extended instrumental section, he jumped off the stage and ran to the bathroom only to return with a handful of tissue for some serious nose-blowing action. Despite all that, the band held it down, switching instruments nearly every song, building Panda Bear-esque hippie jams that tended to explode in sun-drenched euphoria once the live drumming kicked in. Again, the way they're able to transcribe their record into a live setting is pretty fantastic.

Now, onto Le Loup. The DC band totes an impressive seven members, at least three of which were completely unnecessary. This is where the Arcade Fire comes in: there's nothing like watching them live and being able to focus your attention on the eighth person in that band and be totally transfixed. Le Loup? Not so much. The main singer (who also held it down on keyboards, guitar, and banjo) was pretty entertaining, but everyone else seemed bored. And, yeah, alright, it would be one thing if the songs they were making needed seven people, but they could have been done just as easily with four, maybe five if the horn parts were absolutely necessary.

Conversely, if you want to talk about having a lot of members and doing it right, Loch Lomond had eight people on stage, all of which managed to add something special to the music. Sure, they had two back up singers, but those singers actually added harmonies (the six Le Loup singers just sang the same parts mostly). Plus, every instrument was fully accounted for, and I didn't find myself looking at someone and trying to pick out just what the hell they were playing.

I feel bad saying it, hence the title of this blog post, but if you're going to make uproarious songs where everyone signs along, you've got to be into it. Otherwise, at least in my book, it's going to fall flat. That's not to say that Le Loup were bad. I liked them live much more than I like the record they put out, and I didn't, you know, leave to go to the bar to grab another drink or anything, which has got to mean something. I wanted to like them, I really did, but it just didn't quite do it for me.

Continuing our new column, wherein we review every last bit of new vinyl that gets sent to us. Vinyl is cool! We play it, listen to it, write about it, love it.

MP3:
The Golden Bears – This Golden Afternoon

The Golden Bears are Julianna Bright and Seth Lorinczi, and Wall to Wall is their first full-length record. It’s out now on Amore!Phonics (Viva Voce’s label) and tonight is the album release show at the Doug Fir. Notice I said “album release,” and not “CD release.” Wall to Wall is currently only available on vinyl and as a download. (If you buy the vinyl, it comes with a coupon for the mp3 download version, or you can just buy the download on its own at iTunes.) And it’s a gorgeous record, perfectly suited to the vinyl format, with Bright’s absolutely charming cover art and twelve short songs that add up to something greater than the sum of their parts. Songs flow in and out of each other, motifs are introduced, indulged and expanded upon; the result is divided up amongst two sides that are, in some ways, mirror reflections of each other. Bright and Lorinczi recorded the album in their home last year while expecting their first child, but it’s scarcely the cuddly, pillow-talking bathwater you’d expect from such origins. No, at times it unabashedly rocks; metal riffs creep into folk songs, drum fills clatter and thrash, and the lyrics suggest loads of meaning while explicitly saying very little. The album embraces the strangeness of dreams, the comfort of domesticity, the reassurance of love, the fear of the unknown, and the wide-eyed wonder of childhood imagination. It’s breathtakingly good.

Opening with the bolero waltz of “Tall Ships,” the Golden Bears immediately sound as graceful and misty as Liege & Lief-era Fairport Convention. There’s a beefier sound to the guitars, but it’s timeless: the year could be 1969, or 1369… or 2008, I suppose. The lyrics are abstractly impressionistic, a vague sketch of a ship embarking on a journey, and while it is clearly a beginning, it also very much sounds like a departure, a goodbye. There was a time when getting onboard a ship and leaving the shore meant there was a very good chance you’d never return. “Gulls cry, ‘to sea, to sea,’” Bright sings, and by the end of the song, we think we hear the gulls… but no. It’s just a recording of garden birds outside the Bears’ window. They are safe at home, writing and drawing and recording, and we are safe, too, traveling with them via armchair and headphones. Soon we are sailing on the literal “Coda,” and the landscape shifts to soft dreamlike piano and cascading “la la las.”

“This Golden Afternoon” (MP3 above) takes a simple stoner riff and creates a heavy pop song that’s both ominous and peppy. It’s quite a balancing act, and things take a darker turn when the drums drop out for Bright to warn, “We don’t go outside with the demons of ours.” But it's just campfire ghost-storytelling, with a flashlight shined spookily under the face; the song really means to captures the joy of life at home and the thrill of having a killer recording studio in your basement. Life is good, and isn’t it fun to play pretend?

The title track grabs ahold of a vaguely Middle Eastern guitar riff while riding a choppy, corkscrew beat; soon, a cello interlude leads into the straightforward instrumental motif of “Our Progress.” The progress is soon hampered by progressive-rock drum fills, and it eventually turns into a free jazz jam with saxophone by Evolutionary Jass Band’s Jef Brown. Are we making progress, or are we lost? Where's the map? Whose idea was it to go so far west, anyway? But before panic sets in, Side One closes with a piano ballad that perhaps feels a bit too ordinary to be sitting alongside the spooky, brain-scraping music that preceded it. The song works like a salve, in spurts, but the chorus plods and the vocal overdubs are laid on a touch thick.

Side Two, however, quickly returns us to where we last lost sight of our bearings, and we are happily scrambled again, as sitar drones quickly encompass us like the action described in the lyrics:

“When the roots beneath your house come crowning through the floor… lay your body down… and trade your famined thoughts for leaves and vines instead.”

We are immediately thrust back into another progressive jam, and a triplet figure circles and descends upon us like angry vultures.

Things continue with a pair of pleasantly intricate pop songs, “We Choose” and “Geography,” and soon we are making “Further Progress,” another instrumental piece that sounds like something chanted to accompany a sacrificial offering, albeit with a thumping backbeat. “Tracery of Branches” has perhaps the most to say of any song on the record: Poetic turns of phrase and strings of images collect like buds at the tip of a tree branch. The song, backed by unadorned acoustic guitar, seems to be about the passing of things—knowledge, love, art, life—from generation to generation, and how that miraculous, inevitable transference is initiated by two strangers, courageously (and perhaps foolishly) deciding making contact with one another. With any luck, love is the result, and everything else comes from that. The album concludes with “You and All the Other Humans Like You,” an appropriate ode to an unborn, or just-born, child. A pastoral organ joins in to close the record on a hopeful, soothing note.

The Golden Bears have really done something magical here, and I admit Wall to Wall touches me on a personal level. It gives me the same feeling as looking through a shelf of my granddad's old books, like something left behind for posterity. Bright's pregnancy most likely informed this element--the Bears were singing and playing to an unborn child, and there's a sense of foreboding throughout, but the fear is coupled an infinitely optimistic sense of possibility. The storybook artwork is icing on the cake; Bright's cover design is naive and grotesque, in the original sense of the word (from the Latin root grotto, deriving its meaning from paintings found on the wall of prehistoric caves, often of mythological figures that had both human and animal parts. The only interruption to Bright's wonderful illustrations is a mundane photo of their studio setup in the inner gatefold--it breaks the spell a little.) Some could complain about the vagueness of the Bears' lyrics, that they are needlessly poetic and not direct enough. But I found enough substance to be nourished by them, and they left enough room for me to project my personal thoughts and interpretations. Lorinczi and Bright's playing is excellent throughout--circular and riffy, with runs, dynamics and subtlety. It's my hope that this vinyl copy of Wall to Wall will be left behind for my grandkids to discover on a shelf one day. I'm pretty certain record players will still be around then. Not so sure about CDs.

The Golden Bears play tonight, April 3, at the Doug Fir with Holcombe Waller & the Healers and Tom Brosseau; 830 E Burnside, 9 pm, $10. Meanwhile, You can listen to more of Wall to Wall at the Golden Bears' MySpace page, and you can buy it here.

Remember, End Hits loves vinyl! If you’re a label or a band, send us your new vinyl for review. We’ll listen to it and put our thoughts up on the blog. Send it to:
Portland Mercury
Attn: End Hits
605 NE 21st Ave., Suite 200
Portland, OR 97232

The first time I saw it, I didn’t get it. At least, I didn’t understand what was so damn special about this video.

I could have made that!

My brother first told me about “Bastards of Young” and how it was some grand punk rock fuck you to every video on MTV, plus the music industry in general. It took a few years to kick in—for the genius of both the song and its visual component to properly settle in my teenage brain—but once it did, I swear my life was never the same.

Oh, the Cribs’ version last night was pretty good. Fast, sloppy, and not too British. It’s hard to screw up a ‘Mats song, unless, of course, you turn one of their most sincere tunes into a video montage from One Tree Hill.

Another week, another Mercury music section to read while Live Nation backs up the Brinks truck to Jay-Z’s crib.

Speaking of emcees and cribs, Astronautalis was so committed to his craft that he moved into his folks’ crib so he could tour all year long. As far as devotion to your art goes, nothing tops that. Then again, if you want to date Beyonce, maybe getting your own place is a good idea.
MP3:
Astronautalis - (Everybody’s Favorite) Skeleton

Autechre was redefining electronic music on the computer back when you were still playing Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?. You hear that, gumshoe?
MP3:
Autechre - Plyphon

For the last time, Carla Bozulich is not a witch!
MP3:
Evangelista - Smooth Jazz

Trust Santotzin on this one, you’d much rather be a rapper than a raper.
MP3:
Santotzin - Its All Good

Still got a radio? When was the last time you used it? I know, I know, Portland radio sucks. But tonight there’s reason to dust off the ol’ bastard and spin that dial to KPSU 1450AM. That’s right, Portland State’s radio station is on AM. And there’s no swearing. But so what? Yonight The Ax are playing a live set from 8 to 9pm. Perfect if you want live music but don’t feel like going out.

I’d give it a listen. Plus when the Portland duo is interviewed, they’re bound to say something stupid. Mark my words… hah! No, I’m kidding. But really, if you like heavy music, you should check this out.

Listen to a sample of the crashing, chugging duo on their myspace and tune in later tonight for the real deal.

If you haven’t gotten a chance to read Ned’s awesome article this week about The Ruby Suns, please go read it. Then you should go to this show tonight.

I managed to catch about half a set from the Auckland based three piece down in Austin and it really was pretty great: any doubt I had of them being able to recreate their record in a live setting was quickly erased. Main man Ryan McPhun really holds it down, splitting his time between looping pretty guitar distortion and banging away at a half of a drum set. The whole laid-back, sun-drenched hippie vibe they have going on was also pretty intact, and could prove to be the perfect escape from these “cold but so damn close to summer” doldrums.

The Ruby Suns play Holocene tonight with both Le Loup and Loch Lomond. Sadly, they missed the memo about needing a name with double L’s in the title, though, to be fair, The Luby Luns doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

It’s no secret that we adore both The Cribs, and tonight’s opener, Jeffrey Lewis.

The bouncy, jittery, stripped-down punk of the Cribs (technically they are 33.3% local band, since bassist Gary Jarman now resides in town and pals around with Johnny Marr) is always a treat in the live setting, as the Jarman brothers have a bountiful amount of energy to inject into each sloppy little number. There will be no Marr sightings at the show (Modest Mouse is in Melbourne tonight), but as we’ve all learned from Jeffrey Lewis, indie rock celebrity sightings can sometimes lead to very horrible things.

MP3:
The Cribs - I’m A Realist (Live on the Late Show with David Letterman, April 18th, 2008)

The Cribs perform at Doug Fir Lounge tonight.

The O pop music blog has a great post on a Bruce Springsteen fan confronting The Boss the night before his Vancouver show, requesting one of the most obscure songs in his catalog (“None But The Brave”), and then watching Bruce and Co. perform the song the following night.

The video quality of the clip below is terrible, but the audio is great, and it’s worth a listen just to hear Springsteen perform a long lost song for the very first time alongside the E Street Band.

If people wonder why Springsteen fans idolize the man the way we do, it’s primarily because stories like this.

Oh my, we sure had a hearty chortle with yesterday’s April Fools prank involving the Portland band on the cover of the new issue of The Fader. It was actually Glass Candy, and if you want to read the issue, you can download it here.

Are you in a band? Do you know how to rock the fuck out? Well, in this competitive marketplace, “rocking the fuck out” is no longer an option—it’s a necessity. Case in point, this new viral video that depicts a Korean drummer completely stealing the limelight from the super hot singer. How can a pudgy Jackie Chan look-a-like accomplish such a task? By (ahem) ROCKING THE FUCK OUT!!

LITTLE WINGS, LEE BAGGETT
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Little Wings (AKA Kyle Field) is an act that has to be experienced live. Over the past five years, I’ve managed to watch as he turned living room floors into electrified dance parties, and turned record stores into sad, somber vigils. I once even followed him, like he was the Pied Piper, as he lead a group of kids down to the beach to sit underneath the stars and sing in some sort of hippie peace circle. Even if you’re not a fan of his Will Oldham-esque shambling folk songs, witnessed live, Little Wings is completely engaging and totally entertaining, and the man has some serious charisma to boot. I mean, he got me to participate in a hippie peace circle, and that has got to stand for something, right? ROB SIMONSEN

MP3:
Little Wings - Gone Again

Photo: Derek Vincent

Well, I didn’t see this one coming.

Local acoustic duo HannaH*s Field have landed themselves on the cover of The Fader. It’s no surprise that everyone loves our fair city—hence the Glass Candy article in the same issue—but a cover story on a hippie duo that just played Proper Eats in St. Johns? Sure, why not?

When contacted by the End Hits news desk, Fader editor (and former Mercury arts editrix) Julianne Shepherd was unavailable for comment. But I’m willing to wager she was responsible for the magazine’s other cover story, which is on the oh-so-trill Lil Boosie.

HannaH*s Field - “Puff Puff Give”

This just in: Hippies enjoy smoking the marijuana.

Attention lovers of Kanye West’s Graduation: Here’s the newest video from that disc, “Homecoming,” in which Kanye and Coldplay’s Chris Martin give us a guided tour of Chicago, the second greatest city in the world. Go ahead and argue!

Dear Readers:
I get a lot of voicemail. Most messages go something like this:

Hey faggot, you know nothing about music. Die.

And those are just the ones from my parents, you should hear the angry ones.
Anyway, this morning I was treated to not just one, or two, but three amazing messages from a VERY disappointed Larry Norman fan.

We hope you enjoy these as much as we do:
MP3: Disappointed Larry Norman Fan

Signed,
“Ezra Somebody”

As if Perez Hilton getting an A&R gig wasn’t enough of a sign of the impending collapse of the music industry, the New York Post is reporting that energy-drink maker (and official frat-boy mixer) Red Bull is getting in on the action and starting their own branded record label.

Things to note from the Post article:

-Red Bull recently sunk millions of dollars into creating their own recording studio
-They think they can fill a void in the young male demographic (this is wrong on SO many levels)
-Former MTV VJ Matt Pinfield is somehow involved

This has nothing but trouble written all over it. If that dude David Cook doesn’t win American Idol, you can be sure this is exactly where he’s going to end up, especially since the Shop Boyz already have their sponsor locked up.

LUCIANO, MIKEY GENERAL & JAHMESSENJAH BAND, COPACRESCENT, SHOCKS OF SHEBA
(Lola’s Room, 1332 W Burnside) Religious zeal never translated so well as it does in roots reggae. Irrespective of or indifferent to creed, it’s a guaranteed global hip-rocker—although it has recently taken a back seat to its libertine li’l sis, dancehall. Meanwhile, pious Rastafari Luciano, whose one drops are mostly molasses-paced and equally sweet, is still sermonizing after all these years. On his latest album, Jah is My Navigator, he pines for peace in Jamaica when not extolling the virtues of ethical living everywhere. A pure singer, Luciano is bearable even when the righteousness begins to chafe, an infrequent discomfort in these durably challenging times. JALYLAH BURRELL

I can’t decide which I like more, “Jah is My Navigator” or “God Is My Co-Pilot.” I enjoy them both, but I just might have to give a slight edge to Jah.

MP3:
Luciano - Who Could It Be (live)

Continuing our new column here at End Hits, wherein we review every last bit of new vinyl that gets sent to us. You want your band’s new release to be covered here on the blog? If it’s on vinyl, send it in and we’ll review it.

Today we examine the new 12 inch from Olympia’s Nudity, out now on Portland-based Discourage Records. It’s a single, ostensibly, with one track per side. But both sides together run the length of an album—each track is 21 minutes long. The song is “Nightfeeders,” and it’s presented in two versions: the Nudity studio take on the a-side, and a remix by Concentrick on the b-side.

I think I first heard an excerpt of “Nightfeeders” about two years ago, on Nudity’s MySpace page. Even in abbreviated form, it was instantly memorable, with a polyrhythmic 3/4 guitar part looping around a 4/4 motorik pulse. Nudity sounded like the kind of band that doesn’t exist anymore, and maybe never did—jammers who knew how to rock, who didn’t get caught up in the technical end of things, who let their songs blow like grain over vast fields, to land, sprout, and grow wherever they would. Most importantly, they were fucking heavy—heavy enough to stop the brain-damaged hippie girl from her incessant twirling, enough to instill the fear in her. So yeah. If Nudity is a jam band, then they’ve rehabilitated the entire genre, which is no small feat. I don’t think they are a jam band, though. They are a hard rock band, with an epic song that’s different each time they play it.

I don’t know if each side of the 12 inch is designed to be listened to consecutively, since it is the same song, but having the two versions side by side emphasizes the fact that “Nightfeeders” isn’t something set in stone, that it may change altogether, that your mood and whatever substances you’re on is just as much a factor as what the band is doing. I saw Nudity play at Rotture a couple weeks back, short one guitar player, and “Nightfeeders” sounded awesome, but different. Not because a part was missing, but because that’s just the way it was. It was longer, drone-ier; it seemed like the vocal wasn’t as important, and other parts may have been jettisoned to focus on the groove.

The a-side version of “Nightfeeders” on this 12 inch never feels monotonous; it never achieves the meditative sameness of that jam I saw at Rotture. It’s a fully fledged song, beginning with an incantation of flute and sitar, before the looping guitar figure comes in. The band quickly kicks into high gear, locking into the motorik pulse as firmly as Neu! ever did, at times threatening to careen into Hawkwind space-case la-la land. But Nudity remains grounded, never losing sight of the horizon, never losing control of the machine that they’ve created and revved up. There may be a guitar solo here or there, but it’s not really a guitar solo; a vocal line may be uttered and some chord changes may happen. But it’s all about providing shape to this motion rather than telling a story. It’s a physical experience rather than a mental one. Eventually, it turns into a drum solo, and fades out—a somewhat disappointing end to an otherwise stellar track, but I suppose it had to end somewhere.

The b-side is Concentrick’s “remix” of “Nightfeeders,” which is part-remix, part-reconstruction, part-overdub. Concentrick is Tim Green from the Fucking Champs, and he recently put out an album of looping prog guitar under the Concentrick name that sounded like Steve Hackett and Frank Zappa caught in spin cycle in the washing machine. What Green does to “Nightfeeders” is artful, and sends it into the stratosphere. The opening flute and sitar incantation is increased in length, with Green’s zigzagging guitar plastered on top of it. When the band kicks in, Green turns them into a palette of paint, and dashes color here, guitar there, cymbal crash there, all over the canvas that is the basic track of the song. The result may be superior to the band take; it’s certainly scarier, and it takes you further. You never get lost, though, and the peak moments of ecstasy are loftier.

At any rate, with this 12 inch, Nudity has finally provided two definitive documents of their greatest achievement, and it’s on vinyl, no less. Vinyl is the way to experience it, from starting groove to ending groove without even the option of a pause button. There are 200 copies on purple vinyl and 600 on black; the covers were individually silk-screened. It’s well worth picking up if you have any small interest in krautrock, stoner rock, metal, psychedelia… Fuck. Let me try that again. It’s well worth picking up, unless you are a pussy.

Get it at K Records, Kill Rock Stars, or go buy it at Discourage Records here in town. I bet Exiled has it too.

Remember, End Hits loves vinyl. If you’re a label or band, send us your new vinyl for review! We’ll listen to it and put a review up on the blog. Send it to:
Portland Mercury
Attn: End Hits
605 NE 21st Ave., Suite 200
Portland, OR 97232

Our older, cooler siblings (they totally smoke cigarettes and I heard they go all the way) up north have the scoop on a rare John Lennon sighting. Evidentially, Lennon—after faking his death to escape Yoko and Sean’s solo albums—has been hiding in Shoreline, WA and enjoying waffles for breakfast.

Tomorrow we’ll have exclusive photos of Jim Morrison eating a Pillsbury Toaster Strudel.

Saturday was seeming like a strangely slow night when a friend called with news of a party with bands. What bands? I asked.

“Beats me,” she said.

Well, what the hell. With nothing else to do I went. As luck would have it I caught the first set of a band new to Portland who, mark my words, are going to be fucking huge.

They’re called Nurses, and they’re from Idaho. Or Chicago. Or something… They’re living on couches, or in the van… There’s four of ‘em, but there’s two of ‘em, really. Well… Ok. Here’s what I know:

Nurses have two original members, who seem to have been traveling a lot lately. They have two new members, from Portland. They live here now. They came because, “It seemed like Portland was the place to be.” There’s more to this story that I don’t yet know, but it’s not important now.

Here’s what is: This band is incredible. Through heavy reverb all four of them are singing. The harmonies are amazingly welcoming. They’re bopping around, they’re catchy, the song-writing is solid and there’s a beautiful mix between tight and loose.

Nurses, in their newest iteration, have been around for two weeks. As mentioned, the two principal songwriters have been together for some years, but the two new players add a whole new dimension. They don’t yet have any more shows on the books but as soon as they do I’ll be sure to let you know.

There are a bunch of tracks online, and this whole set up is confusing too. You should check them out, but before you do please understand that they’re not quite doing this new line-up, with the four-part harmonies justice.

Ok, so there is Nurses myspace, which features some older songs. Then there is Rocky Mountain Steam, which are demos of newer Nurses songs, then there is a Daytrotter session.

If I were you I’d listen to “Apple’s Acre”, “Technicolor” and “Man At Arms” on the Rocky Mountain Steam site. All those songs found their way into Nurses short set on Saturday.

What’s the proper etiquette for when there are a bunch of small news items, but none large enough to justify its own post? I guess a ‘lil Music Roundup will have to do.

- Tonight, around midnight, is the deadline to make your artist requests to PDX Pop Now!. Last year they got over 20,000 requests (To be fair, over 17,000 where from me. Hey, I really wanted Art Alexakis to play, so what?), and they are aiming for more this time around. Request here.

- Steve Malkmus slums it on Fox News and their totally bizarre Red Eye program. Warning: If you make it through this clip, you’ll want to stab the show’s annoying host in the eyes. Repeatedly.

- Dizzee Rascal is coming to Portland. I know we have sung his praises here before, but after watching that stunning video for the hundredth time, I’m anxious to see him live once again. I’m trying to remember, when his last Portland show was. The Doug Fir, about 3+ years ago? That was it, right? Anyway, he’ll be here with El-P, at Berbati’s on May 20th.

By now you’ve probably heard about the oncoming “emos” versus “punks” war. When the battle-sob of the emos is rung throughout the land, you can be sure I’ll be cinching up my ladies jeans with a white belt and throwing down for the right to be sad.

You can also be sure that I’ll rock the hell out of the new Paramore song, “That’s What You Get”, before trudging off to battle. This song is amazing. It’s like “Since U Been Gone” filtered through Hot Topic, and before the knee-jerk reaction sets in when you realize I’m singing the praises of a band on a label run by that dude from Fall Out Boy whose penis is all over the internet (google at your own risk), just think back to 2005 and how great “Since U Been Gone” was.

With just a tiny bit more exposure this song is going to run the Kelly Clarkson route. It will go beyond being just a guilty pleasure and everyone will openly admit to loving the hell out of it. It’s only a matter of time before indie bands with cred (I’m looking at you Ted Leo) start throwing in covers of it at the end of their sets.

Well, at least this is the way it’s going to go down once the emos win the Great Rock War of 2008.

Photo by Minh Tran.

Friday night was my first time seeing the Boss in concert, and I felt pretty certain what to expect. I grew up on the East Coast, where Bruce has literally been deified, and the devotion he commands over there has actually made me feel unworthy of trying to see him. New York area fans are SERIOUS about Bruce. I mean, sure, I’ve owned every album he’s ever made, but I got most of them for a buck at Amoeba. So am I devoted enough to be considered a fan? Do I have BSS4VR on my license plate? Did I freak out when he played SNL without the E Street Band? And honestly, have I listened to every track on The River? Alas, the answer to each of these questions is No.

However, the time was right for me to experience the Boss--he and I both aren't getting any younger, and the opportunities we'll have to be in the same room at the same time are ever decreasing. So, far from the place where both he and I come from, I ventured to the Rose Garden to see what all the fuss was about. Bruce did not disappoint, giving all his energy to the performance. If anything, he did seem to be workingman-like about the whole thing, which stands to reason since he does this performance thing a fair amount. It was also funny to see him slump against his microphone stand, which had been fixed to the ground like a stripper pole. I was struck particularly by how potent the recent material is. In fact, two of the emotional highlights of Friday's show came from The Rising, the record before last: "Lonesome Day" and "The Rising" both soared in the live setting, making me want to go back and examine a record that I pretty much ignored when it came out. The other high point was an audience request of "For You," a young man's overworded, slipshod ramble that contrasted nicely with the fist-pumping anthems of the rest of the set.

Meanwhile, Max Weinberg stuck to simple, pounding 4/4 beats, raising his stick in the air after every snare hit in an attention-grabbing flourish. He's definitely a TV personality now, and his super-high drum riser and hidden microphone setup (how the heck were those cymbals mic'ed?) made sure that everyone could see him clearly. He is a powerful but not particularly interesting drummer. As far as the rest of the E Street Band, I was most excited to see Bruce's two guitar foils: Little Steven, who hosts the only thing on the radio that doesn't make me feel like punching myself in the face, and Nils Lofgren, who is even tinier than I dared imagine. They were both awesome. Clarence Clemons, however, is a waste of space. I'm sorry to say it, but an 8-bar sax solo on one quarter of the songs in the set doesn't really warrant the gold throne they had set up for him stage right. Indeed, I felt the band was bloated--violin AND sax? Two keyboard players? I'd love to see a set by Bruce, Nils and Steven, with a better drummer, kicking out some garage band jams, making tight, focused music. But this is sacrilege--the Boss comes with all of the E Street Band, and that's part of the deal. He also comes with a catalog of terrific, emotional songs, and Friday's show proved that point.

Photos courtesy of Minh Tran, there are more after the jump.

So, how was Bruce Springsteen?

Exactly how we expected him to be.

Seeing Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band live in an arena is exactly that. It’s a big ‘ole space with a big ‘ole band, all the songs you want, a few you don’t, and hoards of drunken old folks who are letting themselves go in a way that is both inspiring, and a bit frightening. There was drunken binoculars man (a great combo, really), the sloshed woman (who looked like my 9th grade Spanish teacher) who got tossed by security, and the short gentleman with the feathered gray hair behind me, who loudly complained about the “tall person conspiracy” that prevented him from seeing Aerosmith “that one time.”

The Boss is enigmatic and charming—you just want to be him—while the band is the same lovable ensemble of Jersey characters (sans his better half, Patti Scialfa, who was back home policing their teenage kids who, as the Boss admitted, have a fondness for pot cookies) that you’ve come to love.

Looking untouched by the cruel hands of time—suspiciously barrel-chested and fit, leathery and tan with that dusty gray flavor saver—Springtseen is still the rock deity he's always been. He didn't invent rock and roll; he just personified everything that was cool about it. Of course, this is what you demand when you pony up $109 (thanks for nothing, "convince charges") for floor seats at one of his concerts. You want a show from the Boss with no surprises. He came through, albeit, these days the band does everything at a much slower tempo. "Born to Run" doesn't really run as much as it walks briskly ("Born to Power Walk?"), but it still is the same reckless rock song it has always been.

While age has never really touched the Boss—he really does seem immune to it—Clarence Clemmons was winded, and he even had a chair (actually, an upholstered throne) to rest in between songs. But Springsteen never wavered, paused, or stepped down from the roll of charismatic showman. Sure, there was an in-stage teleprompter, and he mispronounced "Oregon" more than a few times, but he was fearless in song, and in banter as he talked about the Bush administration in vague condemning terms (such as his introduction to "Magic," where he mentioned putting a stop to the "eight years of tricks") and plugged the local charities he allowed to set up shop in the venue. The highlight of the 23-song set was the range the band showed going from the jittery "For You," to a toned-up performance of "Lost In The Flood," and then slowing the tempo and mood with Magic's dour ballad, "Devil's Arcade."

Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band played "Dancing In The Dark," they didn't dare play "Born In The U.S.A.," and when all is said and done, they lined up and took a bow for the crowd, as if this whole thing was their idea and they're just grateful for the opportunity to play some rock and roll for some people in Portland, Oregon.

You can view the setlist here, and thanks again to Minh for the great photos.