The Daytrotter Index
April 23, 2006: Erin McKeown
30 April 07
The last song that Erin McKeown recorded for us way back a year ago this week (happy birthday recording!) — the Fats Waller classic “Honeysuckle Rose” — was telltale, an indication of what her next album was going to be...
Jeffrey Lewis live review
Jeffrey Lewis: The Enthralled Laughter Could Be Heard Down The Block At Red's Scoot Inn
30 April 07
Jeffrey Lewis = a one man whirlwind, blazing trails of creative sparks and leaving all us silly folk just gasping in wonder. “Can he be that cool and sincere and self-aware?” Yes, thankfully, he can.
Last Thursday night’s Big...
A Week With Panda Bear's "Person Pitch": Day 1
30 April 07
Person Pitch is not a doppelganger of a Simon & Garfunkel album, re-mixed by a dub/beat hall extraordinaire, though damn if it doesn’t come across as such on more than a few occasions, bleeding some of that sweat music into...
Grizzly Bear
Grizzly Bear: Beware, The Haunting Will Become A Friend
29 April 07
Free Daytrotter Session Songs (Don’t miss this page!)
Taken by a merry ol’ land of woebegone and some desperate, desolate conditions, Grizzly Bear would build their dens and call the place home sweet home for lack of sudor in attempting to get anywhere different. Some just know when they’re home, when a relaxing familiarity is aromatic upon its detection in the breezes. There needn’t be anything more than some heart-rending and tearing for Edward Droste, Daniel Rossen, Chris Taylor and Christopher Bear to identify with their surroundings. Those instances and their details are the draperies, the rods and the brackets. The Brooklyn foursome will build around it all – to suit, giving it the walls and roof and blanketing color to provide the essence of a love all loved out, but still remembered as it was, before it was dry as a drought of all its nourishing elixir. Grizzly Bear, through beauteous harmonies and textures meant for the hides of sleek race horses, gives over a kind of paralyzing manna that has a glow, a shadow and an echo to it. Watch yourself around their music, as it takes you and everyone you’re touching at the time captive. It’s in watching how these four men man their individual wheels while walking down the streets of Paris, singing their song “Knife” a cappella for our good chaps at La Blogotheque, that you witness all that’s sublime in the simple world of things that make us happy.
Red Krayola
Red Krayola: It's Not Just Noise, Stop Thinking That
28 April 07
Although still largely unknown by the underground circle, the Red Krayola, keep bellowing up from under the subversive music world (most recently with their two 2006 releases, Introduction and Red Gold EP). Mayo Thompson, the primary songwriter of the band,...
Magnolia Electric Co. live review
Magnolia Electric Company: Jason Molina, We Wholly Know Thee, Or Like To Think It
28 April 07
It seems that as we sift and sort through all this music, all these mp3s and unlabeled CD-R’s and promos with blacked-out bar codes and notches cut in the spine, all we’re looking for is a voice that articulates that...
The Comas
The Comas: A Body Can't Sleep Through This One
27 April 07
Free Daytrotter Session Songs (Don’t miss this page!)
What’s the landscape like during a coma? What does the air feel and taste like? How’s the light in there? What comes out of that state of relative inactivity? What are the dreams like? Here you are unresponsive, no one can wake your ass up, you can’t hear anything, you don’t know what pain is and things couldn’t be set up any better as an incubator for the sickest, mind-bending hallucinations. The first words out of your mouth, if you ever came to again, should be, “You’ll never guess where I was,” in between the greatest, extended yawn of your life. Back you were from a dawn, a dusk and all the in between at a cubist castle, getting looks at everything in disjointed parsings – wished the best of luck putting them all together and deciphering the creatures and the aftertaste. Andy Herod and his Comas have assembled a sampling of where a head might be floating inside this state of being out to lunch for an indeterminable amount of time with new album Spells, whose name isn’t at all fraudulent or misleading (a lyric from album opener “Red Microphones” goes, “Call down the knights from ghostly towers/Puff on the yore of dragonfire.”).
Will Forte lasso'd
Saturday Night Live's Will Forte Gets So Lasso'd
26 April 07
To the time machine-UH!! But I am Ken The Falconer Mortimer! Will Forte has done this to us. He’s subtly and inconspicuously become the most satisfyingly quotable cast member on Saturday Night Live, with that odd drawl of his that...
Rock Plaza Central
Rock Plaza Central: Establishing What Heretofore Has Never Been Called Canadicana
26 April 07
Free Daytrotter Session Songs (Don’t miss this page!)
One distinction needs to be made early in this report on Toronto’s Rock Plaza Central – the pioneers of Canadicana. Lead singer Chris Eaton is attempting to sound like Johnny Cash when he sings, not Neutral Milk Hotel’s Jeff Mangum, you jackals. Oh, the wavy, fly where it may stamp of Mangum’s soft impression of a voice may be there in familiar parts, but that’s not the intention of a novelist who’s been blurbed about by the acclaimed Jonathan Lethem and has written a book that’s been deemed required reading in course study at two different colleges. He’s got that black, that tarry, inky black in his soul, the kind Cash had. And while we’re at it, wasn’t Cash the first to really define Americana music? It says America more than Son Volt and Uncle Tupelo ever have or will (no offense Son and Tup). We just didn’t label Johnny Cash back then. He did write about coal-burning trains and the kinds of people who take their lumps and then strike back like venomous snakes. That’s America – it’s heart and soul is in taking lumps and then getting even.
Malajube
Malajube: English Is For The Weak
25 April 07
Free Daytrotter Session Songs (Don’t miss this page!)
A band of francophones is proving itself hard not to love out amongst all of the English, the English lovers and their egos, who feel that the best is the best, and that their version of universality – a language that speaks for everyone, the language of business worldwide – will always reign supreme. Maybe they’re right or maybe they’re not. It’s safe to say that it won’t be the French language doing all of those things for all of those people. No one ever stands up for French. The language of love is seen as a one-trick pony – great for amore and bad for everything else – no offense French. Montreal’s Malajube, five fellows who refuse to be globalized/Americanized or bent to follow in the defeated path of all other French speakers wishing to catch a break in rock and roll, once thought about converting and following the sheep, but they stuck to their Sigur Ros-like guns and embraced their native language for all that it was worth. When they released their second album — Trompe l’oeil — late last fall, they were the immediate darlings of the CMJ festival in New York City and the passionate intricacies of their elaborate sound dreams – which can make you feel as if you’re spotting new lands and landscapes from the low-to-the-ground motorcycle side car at times, with the colors pulsing across your glassy eyeballs, and they can make you feel dizzy all of the time.
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