1. Actor Out of Work – St. Vincent
The new St. Vincent album, Actor, leaked. I’ve been a big fan of Ms. Annie Clark since I encountered her debut album a few years ago. This time around she’s as seductive as ever. Continuing to juxtapose strings, flutes, and bells with a swarm of very angry fuzzed out guitars and an impressive array of percussion. Clark’s voice is still the centerpiece of the record; her wry delivery oozes confidence, and her range is wonderfully presented here: from a smooth and jazzy lounge diva through to no holds barred fire breathing rock queen.

2. And The Hazy Sea – Cymbals Eat Guitars
Pitchfork went Gaga over the debut from Staten Island indie rockers Cymbals Eat Guitars. Why There Are Mountains is bursting with adolescent excitement, the kind of energy that I haven’t really felt since attending house parties when I was 16. These guys make me feel like a high school super hero. After listening to the first (and certainly best) track, a few things feel incredibly obvious: The prettiest girl at the dance will be dancing with me, I will ace all my exams, make fake ID will work flawlessly on Friday night, and all of my friends will sing along to every song in perfect harmony.

3. Seattle- A Shoreline Dream
Shoegaze came back, and it’s from Colorado. A Shoreline Dream released their sophomore album, Recollections of Memory, in February to much praise from Wired Magazine and others. Their sound is nothing extremely innovative, but certainly comes across as a more intelligent and interesting than many other current revival acts (such as the abysmal new album from Asobi Seksu). I haven’t spent too much time with the album at this point, but so far I can find very little to fault it with. I’m adding them to the list.

4. Last Night I Threw My Computer Out The Window – Dorian Scheidt
I recorded an Eight and a Half minute drone piece for a music production class I’m taking. The name was inspired by a blog post I wrote a few months back after a long fight with my operating system. As such, the piece includes all kinds of minor breakdowns, glitches, and digital accidents. I’m pretty pleased with it, hopefully you will be as well.

5. In the coming months, there are a number of concerts I’m getting quite excited for: Mountains on April 29th, Animal Collective with Grouper on May 15th, TV on the Radio with the Dirty Projectors on June 3rd, Isis on June 6th, and a seriously difficult choice between Tim Hecker and Burning Star Core across the street from each other later in June. Should be a good time.

Anyway, that’s all for now. I’m hoping to resume posting more regularly soon, but I’ve still got a couple of weeks of exam induced hell. We’ll see how things go.

The other night I saw some friends from back home.
The green room was packed. To the rafters, one might say.
Everyone I knew was either on stage or in the front row.

This is what it is like every time a band from Calgary plays Montréal. All the ex-pats show up, and we talk about Carpenters Union Hall, and Hot Little Rocket, and how “We’re Gonna Lose The Multi!!!!”

Special noise were finishing up their set just as I arrived, but I caught a couple songs. Though they aren’t from calgary, they certainly weren’t strangers to us back in the day, as it were. Their propulsive and quirky math rock was enjoyable and impressive as always.

Braids were up next, and once again knocked me off my feet. I’m really excited to hear the new album that they claim to be working on, as they’ve improved immensely in the six or eight months since they recorded their debut “Set Pieces” EP. Continuing forward with their experimentation with digital effects, live electronics and four part vocal harmonies, Braids create a beautiful amalgamation of the electronic and the organic.

Women started out with some serious technical troubles. Without a touring sound man, they had serious difficulty getting everything working properly.

“This is our side project, it’s called soundcheck.”

Once everything finally got plugged in the right plug, and faded with the right fader, they proved themselves worthy of a wait twice as long. Since the last time I saw Women play, they’ve toured North America and Europe extensively, and it shows. Walls of feedback, intricately intertwined guitar melodies, and odd rhythms filled the room. I’m really interested to hear their next record as well. Given that the band had only barely formed when they began recording their much blogged (and Pitchfork recommended) debut, I expect their next offering will display the same kind of ingenuity, but with an added boost of confidence.

Highly satisfying performances.
Here’s looking atcha, Calgs!

On my way home from work, I heard the sounds of the city radiate out through foggy glass.
A hundred noisy bars.
Thousands of noisy patrons.

I stopped in at one, and became one of many.

The show is almost over, you can head in for free

A crowded room. Filled to the rafters with distortion and applause.

Five dollars at the bar

A hundred happy faces hewn together by the majesty of a drum beat and a beer glass.
The glorious arc of Build & Release.
The cacophony of our newly altered instrument of choice.

In my relentless quest for the new, the different, and the obscure I often lose track of such subtleties as preference, enjoyment, pleasure.
Sometimes such a quest must be abandoned to re-acquaint oneself with its purpose.

We may not have found anything original,
but it was certainly worth finding.

The other night, I went to a rock show.
A rock show in an art museum, to be precise.

The Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal (or MACM for short, if the title didn’t already give that away) is an interesting place to see a concert. We lined up in the circular lobby for over an hour. The line spiraled around the outside of the room until its front and tail began to merge. Proper preparations to prevent cue jumping had not been taken.

This was perturbing.

None the less, when we were finally led into the basement of the building, my accomplice and I had no trouble securing front row space. The room itself was filled with eager concert goers of all ages. I stood next to someone more than twice my age. Quite possibly three times. This, coupled with the thick curtains shielding the walls made for an ideal listening environment.

A giant projector screen hung behind the stage. Images of burning logs, lights in the sky, and other such “meaningless artsy crap” (to quote a random member of the crowd) provided an excellent backdrop for the psychedelic musical experience we were all about to share.

I hadn’t actually been out to see a straight up rock band in quite a while, as I’ve been spending most of my time holed up in my room tweaking electronics, and when I go out it is to watch and learn. Deep in my soul, however, I am still a rocker. I still rock out. Under the right conditions, there is nothing like roaring full stacks, 4/4 hi-hat slosh, and strained vocals barely penetrating the mix.
A guitar solo wreathed in fiery distortion.
Bowel loosening bass.
A kick drum played by a real live human being!

The Besnard Lakes bring it.

I’ve seen them play a few times now, and they have consistently impressed me with their coordination and skill. They may not be doing anything that hasn’t already been done, but they sure as hell do it well. Every member proves themselves worthy, not an easy feat in a band with four guitarists (including bass) as well as three backup singers. The twin guitar solos at the end of And You Lied To Me perfectly anchored by a persistent rhythmic guitar framework. Layered tones bringing Devastation‘s riff home.

Most importantly they’ve got a well developed sense of dynamics, both on the stage and in the studio. Tension perfectly constructed and released. Subtle guitar elaborations into all out fuzzed-out squall.

A+

It is the best blog I have ever read, bar none.

Read it now.

That will be all.

The moment we’ve all been waiting for.
A moment of completion,
Of release.

A time to evaluate the build up.
Deconstruct the hype.
Understand and question exactly what it was we waited for,
so intently,
so…

Was it unwarranted?
Was our reasoning incorrect?
Do we diminish this moment
merely by virtue of anticipation?

Or is the wait a worthy part of the experience?
A way to lengthen
Expand.

Is the finish line meaningful without the race?

[28 entries in the 28 days of February. There may have been a few no shows, and a few marathon posting sessions, but at least the average works out. Thanks everyone who's been reading, I really appreciate it. We'll see how march goes!
PS: Beware leaked. It's great. He's playing the UK federation in MTL on May 15th. You should probably go.]

A man is walking down the street. Black coat, black umbrella. There are faded salt stains on his boots, from here they look like leather. Unpolished. The road is wet, every car that passes makes that slick swishing sound; every tire spitting up symmetrical spatter. The temperature is dropping; the buildings on either side of the road form a wind tunnel. The freezing rain bounces off his umbrella, caught not quite glittering in the flat gray light. It forms the rhythm section: a consistent pulse, the will to continue walking.

His stained footsteps don’t crunch or crackle on the ground; this is not early fall nor deep winter. His movements convey no excitement, no sense of wonder. More a sense of inevitability. This walk will continue, it will be infinite in its own right. Through a certain lens, he knows he will be walking down this road forever. He is not scared.

There are children in the playground next to him. They do not carry umbrellas. They are dressed for rain, in brightly coloured plastic jackets. Boots half way to the knee. Hoods. The afternoon’s shift in climate has not benefited them. The puddles they had planned to jump in are quickly freezing over, the splashes they had counted on become immobile, static. The sheen of their raincoats combats the unwilling lighting. Yellow. Red and Green. Shiny black.

The man continues onwards, his umbrella still battered. His pulse; inevitable. One foot in front of the other, don’t step on the cracks. The thick rasp of gravel underfoot, like the city coughing. Clearing its throat. The sidewalk becomes more treacherous. His boot slips on a thin patch of ice, this time the gravel has escaped his boot’s grasp. The foot swings forward, like a pendulum. Leg outstretched, the torso barely has time to react. Small droplets of water fly forward. Released from the confines of his sole, they arc through the air. Once again, unremarkable, flat. Gray.

He twists, shifting his weight. He tries desperately to regain control, to hold steady. I won’t say that it’s too late, but he doesn’t manage it anyway. No cough of gravel to save him. He falls. Every muscle tenses, preparing for impact. The moment of connection.

At last.

[Growing are a three piece from Brooklyn, and founding member Kevin Doria was involved in the burning film loops drone show which made my top 10 shows list from 2008.]

Yeah man, Rock on.

Excellent.

[I'm really a sucker for the eight minute short story narrated over a noisy jam. I think I'll try and write one.]

I don’t even know what to say.
Pseudo political hip hop, featuring an amazingly diverse group of musicians.

Tom Waits
RZA
David Byrne
Lykke Li
Kanye West
George Clinton
Karen O.

Just to name a few.

The production is great, certainly not your standard 808 and sampled piano loop. Turntablism right alongside side funky guitar riffs, noisy synths, orchestral samples, odd percussion, bizarre carnival sounds, and a whole bunch of crate digging gems.

The name N.A.S.A. stands for North America/South America, and though almost every single artist involved is American, the production certainly includes sounds from all over the world.

It’s great, that’s all.

For the past several several days, I’ve been building a machine.
Connecting the parts.
Putting things together.

Comparing interactions, detailed analysis.

Creating synthetic wind, harmonic structure.

Route, Oscillate, Ramp Up, Ramp Down.

Complex filter theory.

Brutal digital clipping. Overload the output section.
Damage the speakers. Terrify the listener.

Equalize.

I’ve invented a brand new instrument.

I think my father will be proud.

[PS: I'm doing my best to get back on track with this blogging every day thing, making up for lost time.
PPS: I had a very good night last night.]