Reunited, and It Feels So Good: Each Other's Mothers at Silent Barn, 8/2/09

In what I've come to think of as typical Mother's fashion, Each Other's Mothers played a reunion show this past Sunday that wasn't really about them. Instead, it was about their friends, fellow bands, and community, and was a celebration not so much of their regrouping, but of the DIY ethos that made the show possible. Apparent long-time friends Taigaa and Algernon Cadwallader, as well as out-of-towners Songs for Moms, filled out the bill, and Silent Barn, located in Ridgewood on the Queens side of Wyckoff Avenue, provided the site for what might turn out to be the show of the summer.

Taigaa opened the show with their suggestively rhythmic, bass-heavy jams. An experimental trio featuring keyboards and bass as well as percussion and synthesized drums, Taigaa has a pleasingly schizophrenic sound. Cold, robotic synth sounds clash against a warm and sensual 'real' instruments. The result, on Sunday night at least, was a surprisingly successful and undeniably sexy techno jazz that sets Taigaa apart as true originals, and as a Band to Watch.

Songs for Moms of San Francisco, who loudly and joyfully answer the question "What if Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two sounded more like That Dog?" with their wild combination of crooning harmonies, country-style guitar picking, bouncing basslines, and fast crashing breaker percussion, played their rockabilly-goes-surfing style songs about love, loss, and gender to a receptive crowd. SFM got everyone in Silent Barn moving, and got the floorboards shaking.

The penultimate Algernon Cadwallader stood out on Sunday night as the only band on the bill with male musicians. An all-guy band from Philadelphia, AG plays deceptively simple songs reminiscent of the old Mid-western Polyvinyl sound. They sound accessible at first, until tricky guitar work and marching percussion takes an unexpected turn or swerve into dissonant harmonies that disorient you for long instrumental passages that right themselves before the tune's end. AG sounded to me like musical pointilism: it made more sense, and was more enjoyable after I learned to stand back and 'see' the whole picture.

By the time Each Other's Mothers played, Silent Barn's performance area was unbearably hot and stuffy, and the entire place was charged with anticipation. Excitement over the band's reunion was palpable. But it still wasn't really about them -- EOM graciously thanked the 'staff' at Silent Barn, the other bands, and the audience, and guitarists Rachel and Kathi commented on the importance of DIY all-ages venues. It was a refreshingly non-self-aggrandizing reunion set.

EOM is a difficult band to review, mostly because it's hard to stand still and simply observe their performances -- the building momentum and waves of kinetic energy coming from all four musicians makes it impossible to not dance at least a little bit. (Anyone remember that Miami Sound Machine song "The Rhythm is Gonna Get You"? That about sums it up.) This past Sunday at Silent Barn was no exception. You wouldn't know that the band just came off of a long, and almost permanent hiatus; their bold, lithe instrumental compositions sound fresh and (post?)modern.

An old video of Each Other's Mothers that doesn't in any way, shape, or form begin to do them or their live show justice.

There's something about EOM and their music that's hard to pin down, and I suspect that this is deliberate. Their light, but never flimsy music is never too heavy, nor is it ever too thin -- it's a just right combination of intertwining lead guitars, bass undertones, and solid, but never overbearing percussion. Harmonically, their songs don't sound quite major, and they don't sound quite minor, either -- they refuse to be one or the other. EOM's songs develop quickly, and organically, and they take key and tempo changes that sound arbitrary. In other words, it sounds like the songs change when they feel like it. The songs don't explain themselves; they just are. And in this context, the shouts of "Extra, extra, read all about it!", the only vocals in any of the songs EOM played on Sunday, sounded willful and defiant, like a dare to scrutinize and attempt to label their music.

But no one was labeling Each Other's Mothers on Sunday night. From what I saw, everyone fortunate enough to be at Silent Barn that night was too busy having a good time.

LINKS:

Silent Barn -- at myspace

Taigaa -- at myspace or their official site

Songs for Moms -- at myspace or their official site

Algernon Cadwallader -- at myspace or on their official site

Each Other's Mothers -- at myspace

Viva Voce at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, 6/04/09

(above: Anita Robinson, mid-solo)

I wrote recently in this blog that Anita Robinson is an unsung guitar heroine, and I've never been so sure of it as I was last week while watching her perform with Viva Voce in Brooklyn. Robinson is a gifted and unself-conscious lead guitarist who likes psychedelic sounds and the effects pedals needed to produce them, but who never overdoes it or hides behind her effects. And tracks from Viva Voce's new album, Rose City, showcase Robinson's skill at playing the kind of simple, elegant, keening and bending guitar lines that would make "Wonderful Tonight"-era Eric Clapton both jealous and ashamed at his clumsiness.

But Viva Voce is far more than Anita and her guitar. The band began as a duo, a creative partnership between Anita and husband Kevin Robinson, who is the kind of fearless performer capable of playing the guitar and drums at the same time without seeming obnoxious. The chemistry between Anita and Kevin seems to be the key to their previous records. In between the many guitar overdubs and oohing and aahing back up vocals and occasional old-school style funk bass line, they produce something on Lovers, Lead the Way!, The Heat Can Melt Your Brain, and Get Yr Blood Sucked Out so fun, so spontaneous, so vibrant, that you can't imagine how they could recreate it live. But recreate it live they did, and as a duo.

Leave it to the Robinsons to risk this and challenge themselves by deciding to quit their duohood, quite possibly for good. Viva Voce now includes Corinna Repp on guitar, drums, and theremin (yes, theremin!) and Evan Railton on drums and keyboard. Version 2.0 of Viva Voce is on the road in support of the new album, but you wouldn't know the recent additions were recent from hearing them play. The band played a tight, comfortable, set that was suffused with their own brand of slightly-bluesy, uninhibited, relaxed Portland indie cool. Their new songs are surprisingly somber, some moving at dirge-like tempos, with lyrics about exhaustion, homesickness, loss and futility. Where older Viva Voce sounds bright, hot, and radiates like a heat wave, Rose City is rainy, dark, moody, and lush, like its namesake.

above: Corinna Repp, l., and Anita Robinson, r.

But the band keeps their show light and energetic. In version 2.0 of Viva Voce, Kevin Robinson plays bass, and his warm, lively presence up front is felt, and provides a nice counterpoint to Anita's focused, intense guitar playing. [Sidenote: One can't help but notice this interesting role reversal -- here, a woman plays guitar, while a guy plays bass, which has long been unfairly pegged as an 'easy' instrument that girls play.] Corinna Repp helps to fill out the band's sound with rhythm guitar, percussion, drums, and yes, theremin solos. Evan Railton is a fine drummer, but I think his real contribution to this show was as a keyboardist -- new piano-driven tracks like "Midnight Sun", "The Slow Fade", and "Flora" wouldn't have worked without the sound of a brooding, forceful, "Let It Be" type keys.

The new Viva Voce only benefits from its new bandmembers. The group and its previous strengths -- its versatility, its familiarity with classic rock, its ability to take older sounds and make them seem new, -- are all enhanced. The same goes for the maintenance of the group's gender ratio: since their inception, Viva Voce has been proving, without ever discussing any sort of politics, that indie rock doesn't have to be dominated by whiny guys with acoustic guitars, and that rock in general doesn't need to be based on machismo. Viva Voce 2.0 functions seamlessly and shows that it is possible for men and women to get together and play music without the sort of off-putting sexist posturing and divisive rhetoric that seems to be audible in almost every style of popular music these days.

Above: Anita, Evan Railton, and Kevin Robinson

One of these things is not like the other: Little Lungs at 237 Quail

On Friday, October 17, New York metro-area band Little Lungs made the long and tedious journey to Albany. They endured hours of weekend upstate traffic in a tiny vehicle packed to capacity with musical equipment, all to play a show in the comparatively sleepy Capital District.

And so, on Friday, October 17, I put away the books for a night and stepped far beyond my comfort zone. I went several blocks from my house, in maddening Friday night college town traffic, to the heart of the 'student ghetto', all to see Little Lungs, the only decent band that had come to town all season. Fortunately, I did not have to do this alone: my protegee and friend Stephanie came with me, to provide moral support, and also to indulge her own curiosity about the band.

I am happy to report that the band did not disappoint. Little Lungs played a short but tight set that seemed to entertain even the most jaded Albany scenesters who were in attendance.

Little Lungs really stood out that night, and not just because of the high quality of their performance and their songs -- they really are different from most of the bands that were on the bill in a number of ways. First, Little Lungs were the only non-local band playing that night. Second, they were the only band on the roster not playing seven minute posthardcore masterpieces that featured overwrought guitar work. Third, they were the only band that didn't employ screamed vocals or a heavy, masculinist sound made to be moshed to. And finally, and maybe most importantly, Little Lungs were the only band there that night that was not comprised of white guys who felt the need to antagonize the small audience gathered in the basement space that night. That's right, I said it: there are actual girls in Little Lungs.

But Little Lungs deserves more credit than "they were the band that didn't suck". Regardless of who they played with, or where they are from, their style of music, or the male-to-female ratio of their members, Little Lungs sounded really good that night.

Little Lungs write songs about ambivalence. From what I can tell, it seems that they are frequently inspired by that vaguely uncomfortably mid-twenties malaise, a malady that typically entails a disconcerting alternation between fervor and apathy, and an uncertain quest to figure out if there's really any point to any of this. They are the Reality Bites of current postpunk, and they are able, somehow, to recreate this feeling in the live setting. They play unsteadiness and vicissicitude with assurance and stability. Their songs might shift their weight from one foot to the other nervously, like a boxer who's considering throwing the fight while warming up, but Little Lungs never pull any punches. They carry off the contradiction, and the result is surprisingly uplifting; a cold, unfinished basement in a city that feels like the middle of nowhere never sounded so good.

p.s. Want to see for yourself? Catch Little Lungs on tour this winter -- dates are posted at ther myspace