No reunion news YET!??!?  Why would they write this in their artist update if there wasn’t a possibility of a Bikini Kill reunion soon? It has been 11 years since they broke up in 1998.  Musicfest NW (September 16th-19th in Portland, OR) seems to be a big possibility as they have slowly been announcing the bands playing and Portland is very close to the band’s hometown of Olympia, WA.  Judging by the lineup so far, which includes The Get Up Kids, Dillinger 4, and Mudhoney, a Bikini Kill reunion would fit in very nicely.

What justice does time do to heavy music without at some point busting it apart down to the ugly, important pieces? A riff is a riff is a riff unless you have some filthy ideal of power mixed with grace, of exploration without regard for “the scene.” That has always produced some of the best in devastating music: those epic metal albums of your gas-huffing youth produced by toiling heshers; the isolated and misunderstood backgrounds manifested by relentless modern ragers. 
After months of labor pains, softball injuries, returns to the mixing board, and Czech mailing errors, Sonorous Gale has put out a difficult ray of dark hope that will, thank Satan, never be a DJ favorite. 
“Two’s A Crowd” — eight tracks self-released on nice white vinyl – never tries for the fun-now sound and, instead, freely roams between the concrete-weight whims of its two creators, bassist/vocalist Aaron Weese and drummer Stephen Kerfien. Any flashpoints of referential bands are surprisingly layered (for a duo) within a contradictory drum beat or melody, clearly the result of hours of practice room dissection and fucking jamming. 
There is an element of the sausage factory at work here; you never directly hear the practical elements and necessary obstacles that stood in the way of its completion. They scraped mixes, poured over bass harmonies and smashed their tiny piggy bank to keep it all going somewhere in the last year-and-a-half. Despite this, their effort was not along the lines of a redemptive made-for-TV tale full of break-ups or sharing revenge-oral sex with each other’s loved-ones that gives some bands more notoriety than their songs. Propped up by a monstrous and diverse final recorded product — bass reverb? and how huge is that drum set? — “Two’s A Crowd,” is more real than the sounds of any band mired in high school dramas, as it uses daily punishment and joy as the collage of expression, for better and for worse. 
Side A works well as an introduction for the Buffalo band. Starting with “To Completion,” you hear a willingness to hammer down on sludge parts, but with bass and vocal melodies and flashy cymbals that keep the song from getting lost in the muck. Minutes later, “Maytham Manor” brings the thunder and tricky verse points that set the band apart from the kitsch of many other two-man bands. The song is probably the best representation of their live show, the craftsmanship in combining doom, majestic lyrics and lock-step tightness. 
Never leaving too many bread crumbs with their tracks, the third song is an instrumental, a curiously placed touch on the best 70s prog parts and, well, punk. The first side closes with more slight of hand, the downer “Cake In The Wings.” Guest vocalist Spoke gives her first complimentary accompaniment here — Weese obviously has a vision for the voice of the song, and he’s willing to share the soapbox to see it through. 
As the first side gives multiple strong hints at where Sonorous Gale can take songs, side B skips the innuendo without missing the magic. There is something very fragile in the latter four songs of this record, maybe just because it’s so rare to hear a heavy band unafraid to come off as human yet unwilling to sound like babies. 
“Shattered Fingers,” again featuring Spoke, is a true basement show rocker, wrapped up in lyrics that are vague but sung with appropriate desperation and a bass line recalling Cliff Burton at his un-wanky best. Kerfien, never missing chances for jazzy flares, ratchets up the snare and hi-hat surprises minus any showy defaults. 
“Dogmatic Equations,” the band’s early “single,” shimmers bright on the big vinyl, its plodding drum rolls carrying through every headnodding stop. Both men stretch far for “Glimpse,” the most emotive track on the record. Black Sabbath separated the stoner-soft from the punishing on “Master of Reality”; here, Kerfien and Weese meld those elements for the album’s best song, as striking as it is personal. A lesson in restraint, it feels like the hard pulses of the choruses are earned by the players and ultimately the listeners. 
Barely outdone is the damned clever closer, “Clandestiny.” As with “Maytham Manor,” there is a smoothly stuttering verse hook followed by drums that dominate like some kind of rhythmic Harley. The song is a perfect end piece for this complicated-but-rewarding album. 
In a society where, increasingly, now is already yesterday, it’s refreshing to hear something not instantly dismissed nor masturbated over. (The unique cover art adds another question mark to the package with a combination of natural imagery and techno-phobe design squiggles) 
The time spent being their own band and, often because of that, bashing their heads against the practice room walls has led to this lasting sound. At its multiple great moments, “Two’s A Crowd” is the refusal of ease or technical bludgeoning, recalling a day when complex efforts were not a lost art. 

(Note: I am friends with both of the people in this band. That means I could tell them if this record sucked. Or if it sounded like this. Thankfully, I don’t have to do either of those things.)

Oh Portastatic, what more can you do? Aside from pumping out the best rock (or rock informed?) music for the past 15 years, you’ve released countless 7” singles, contributed to some classic compilations and zines, and released some beautiful and varied full length albums. The last two proper albums, 2005’s Bright Ideas and 2006’s Be Still Please, have been about as good as music gets, with catchy tunes, great lyrics, creative production and some stellar guitar noise. I just don’t understand why this isn’t loved by any body with a beating heart and working ears.

Maybe the reason Portastatic never quite became the household name of Pavement or Sebadoh is because Portastatic never really broke up. And if a quick Google search is to be believed, it is mostly known as Mac McCaughan’s side project for a band called Superchunk. Huh. I hope the custodians of music history have been kinder to his other band.

A CD collection of loose ends and previously vinyl-only material is pretty much the last milestone of any long-running musical endeavor. Some Small History is about as all over the place you’d expect of any collection of fifteen-plus years of material. There are rough gems and full-on (if-indie-rock-got-played-on-the-fucking-radio) hits, and some pretty stellar covers. “Oh, My Sweet Carolina” makes me regret anything negative I’ve ever said about Ryan Adams. Of the non-cover variety, “Some Small History” and the classic “San Andreas Couch,” which open up disc two, showcase back-to-back the most rewarding qualities of both hi-fi and lo-fi respectively, and will make you reconsider which side of the fidelity fence you’re on that day.

Regardless of which disc you’re on, there are going to be songs that don’t quite belong on a mix tape. That would be problematic if the songs were arranged chronologically, but the songs that are less fully realized are placed poignantly throughout the collection to give a sense of fullness and depth. It feels as if you’re listening to an album that took 15 years to make.

Mac McCaughan has been making music for a long time, and this collection shows that through sheer willpower he can turn what should have been a disconnected collection of odds and ends into a compelling and creative album.

You can stream the full record for a limited time at the always classy Merge Records site.

What other blogs are saying about Portastatic – Some Small History:

• Prefix

• Pitchfork

• Hard To Find a Friend

• Pop Matters

1) “I Hate You, I Love You” by the Dead Milkmen: “Look back to the time we met / Were things better, I forget” … ah, the rare, somewhat serious track by these Philadelphia goofballs. It’s fairly straightforward, with the rare, scrappy vocal performance by Joe Jack Talcum (I believe) and is a real standout on their spottiest album. Where a lot of their songs rely on words upon words to build and sustain a funny premise (ex. “V.F.W.”, “Sha-Na-Na”), it’s the simplicity in these lyrics that keep it both charming and humorous. It’s the ultimate pop-punk expression of someone who doesn’t know if their heart is coming or going.

2) “I’m Still In Love With You” by Al Green: Al Green was never big on tons of lyrics, but the sweet waves in his voice are usually all that is needed to punch you in the heart and jiggle on your privates. In this subtle number, Green gives you the sense that he really loves this lady, but still has to put it out there for some reason (like buying flowers for someone in the middle of the week, it’s rarely for something positive that happened).

3) “Wave a White Flag” by Elvis Costello: It’s a heart-felt musical projection of the inside of that house at the end of the street where the cops often haul away a drunken guy in a Van Halen T-shirt and his old lady continually refuses to press charges. Is it true love blurred by port wine? Or utter dependance kept in line with mutual destruction? Either way, it would be pretty sad if it weren’t for Costello’s perfect acoustic tongue-in-cheek presentation.

4) “He’s a Rebel” by The Crystals: If you can’t change ‘em, join ‘em. It’s a joyous, harmonious display of the kind of relationship where everyone’s advice to run away only pushes you closer. It was also The Crystals only No. 1 hit (fairing far better than their other troubled epic, “He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)”, co-written by Carole King, no less!) And who would know troubled “love” set to music better than producer Phil Spector?

5) “I Luv You” by Dizzee Rascal: Dizzee and a female accomplice turn the abuse of the phrase “I love you” (misspelling in the track name aside) upside down, with cockney tell-offs peppered throughout. The threat of a baby from a girl that may be the lead male character’s “wifey” as well as the admission that he was “hacked by the whores” all touch on woes in the real relationships that pass through family court all day long.

6) “I Need You” by NoMeansNo: This genius Canadian three-piece always spins the yin with the yang in their songs on love — as well as the occasional knife fight. On “I Need You”, there is the feeling that you come back to someone because, well, you don’t want to die alone and you’ve already shown this person your ugly side. Included are the admission that: “I can’t pretend any more / To you I can’t pretend”.

7) “Once In a While” by Harvey Milk: Out of the crushing, white-man’s blues build-up in the first half of the perfect “Special Wishes” album comes this gem, a broken hi-hat vision of The Band if all the members were going through divorces at the same time. Here, Creston Spiers is the broken man too tired to pick up the pieces of some love that has been gone a decade if it’s been a minute.

8) “Maybe Again When I Leave U” by His Name Is Alive: On-again, off-again love, taunting each other with desire and dispersions of the other “devils” out there on the meat market. His Name Is Alive puts it over some odd keyboard beats and deteriorating electronics, with female vocals that make you consider leaving whatever situation you’re currently in to join her seemingly troubled artistic world.

9) “I Don’t Want to Get Over You” by Magnetic Fields: Half of the songs from the three-disc “69 Love Songs” could probably be on this list, but rhyming Camus with vermouth makes this one win out. The song seems to say, “You know what, fuck it, I’m digging my heels in and I’m just going to mourn and prove this to you. Even after you clearly have moved on.” And, as with almost all of their songs, it’s clever rather than quirky — as in lines like: “I could leave this agony behind / Which is just what I’d do / If I wanted to” — which leads you to just put this 2-minute wonder on repeat.

And the stinker … “Barbed Wire Love” by Stiff Little Fingers:  Any attempt at capturing the dueling feelings of love in a base punk song was clearly lost on Stiff Little Fingers in this song. Lyrically put together around a war theme, “Barbed Wire Love” is somehow stupid in content even for punk, with tired chord progressions to match. Across the British Isles, The Buzzcocks repeatedly used actual wit and fantastic hooks rather than kitsch to convey truly good songs about the endless facets of love. Worse than all of that, “Barbed Wire Love” is among a catalog of others in the 70s punker scene (”I Got Your Number” by Cocksparrer, “Love Song” by The Damned) that led to some type of spikey-hair band requirement for at least one trite “punk love” track each record (see “Punk Rock Love” by The Casualties).

While the intent of that record was widely different, and thankfully has grown on me, I approached this new album, “Things Are Getting Sinister and Sinisterer,” with trepidation, knowing the chameleon nature of Ms. Sedgwick. Right from the lead track, “Sissy Spacek” returns me to comfortable territory, or about as comfortable as I can be where the refrain of a song is “and that pigs’ blood came down/in a red flood”. While this is all more fun experienced than explained, “Sissy Spacek” lends further examination to the lead actress’ classic scene in the movie Carrie. And while this does demonstrate Edie Sedgwick’s entire modus operandi (to spell it out: almost all the songs are about celebrities or celebrity culture), it is hardly the album’s highlight.

The first four tracks are all stop-dead show stoppers, with weird-ass funky straight-from-the-mothership computer-synths and a super tight repetitive rhythm section, combining the best elements of El Guapo and ESG. “March of The Penguins” makes for the first musical diversion, which features a skeletal framework for what might be the weirdest vocal melody on the album. While this feels pretty out of place it works as an ending to the first side, as does the album’s closing track “Edie Sedgwick II,” which is actually a straight up pretty pop song with a catchy na-na-na hook. While both of these songs are very good, they do feel out of place on an album mostly composed of super high energy dance beats and snarky lyrics, but they are the sort of songs that tip what is both good and bad about Edie Sedgwick. You get the feeling of almost excessive cleverness, a sort of musical versatility that can barely contain itself.

I can’t tell you how I would react if you had pitched me a “transgendered reincarnation of a vacuous Andy Warhol Superstar who died of a barbiturate overdose in 1971” who “travels through the dark American night presenting auditory and visual art that honors the likes of Angelina Jolie, Robert Downey, Jr., Paris Hilton, Martin Sheen, and other celebrity co-conspirators.” As best described in the one sheet as “low art meets high concept,” I can say that I hope people aren’t turned off by the concept, because this has been the most engaging and entertaining record I’ve played all year.

What other blogs are saying about Edie Sedwick – Things Are Getting Sinister And Sinisterer:

• Prefix

• Aversion

• Pop Matters

• DCist

McCarthy is best known as the writer of The Border Trilogy, No Country For Old Men, and The Road. Blood Meridian reads like Herman Melville’s Moby Dick meets HBO’s Deadwood. Blood Meridian and Deadwood are both fictionalized accounts of the American West featuring some characters based on actual historical figures. Both works depict the changing nature of the American West with Deadwood focusing on the transition of a camp in South Dakota to statehood and Blood Meridian following a group of scalp-hunters along the Texas-Mexico border during the same time period of the late 1800s. Deadwood was concerned with the establishment of law and order during chaotic times while Blood Meridian explores the violent, warlike nature of mankind with a bleaker outlook.

After a scene-setting intro, the songs are broken down into a few major characters, a wise choice that narrows the focus of the sprawling narrative. The album is by no means Cliffs Notes so don’t expect to piece the whole story together coherently without having read the book. Important plot points are barely mentioned or missing altogether. The ambiguous ending of the novel leaves plenty of room for debate, but it’s barely touched upon in the songs. Whether Judge Holden is the devil incarnate or not could be endlessly debated, but fans of the quieter, somber side of Lucero won’t be disappointed with the music – mostly acoustic guitar accentuated with piano, accordion, pedal steel and electric guitar. They just might have trouble piecing together what the songs are about, and steer clear if you are concerned about spoilers, as the novel is frequently quoted throughout the songs.

If you have read or plan on reading Blood Meridian and are interested in the factual history, I would recommend Notes On Blood Meridian by John Sepich. It’s a great resource detailing the historical sources for major and minor characters and events, and if you’ve just discovered Ben Nichols, do yourself a favor and check out his work with Lucero.

What other blogs are saying about Ben Nichols – The Last Pale Light In The West:

• Can You See The Sunset From The Southside
• Hear Ya
• Nine Bullets
• Sex With Headphones On
  

It was pretty innocuous at first. He was saying something about Modest Mouse; I had seen them the summer before on a free ticket. A touchstone! Total awkwardness be damned! Some more songs came over the speakers, TV On The Radio and some overly tuneful crap that I assumed had something to do with M. Ward (though that is entirely based on my superpower: About 40 percent of the time, I can accurately name a band I’ve never heard before playing over college radio and at college-types’ bars). Then, Radiohead came on, which soon after led to his following paraphrased statement: “The Bends” is my favorite Radiohead album, but I think “OK Computer” is their best.

I was stumped and just kind of repeated aloud what he said. He nodded.

I may have repeated it again, which I quickly followed up with something like: “How can you have a favorite record and say another one is their best?”

Not to back down from an argument, he came back with something biting, like: “It’s true.”

Then he proceeded to dive into the logic of that statement, a notion that still pisses me off and somewhat confuses me.

Basically, “The Bends” was his first CD from the band and he loved it a lot and it helped propel his interest in music. As he naturally got older and his interest in music continued, he bought “OK Computer,” a release he said was their best “as a band” as it fully represented their sound. As far as his favorite songs to listen to? “The Bends”. But the “best” songs? “OK Computer”.

This assessment of “the best” was based on factors, he said, such as importance to music and how the songs work as a collection.

I agree that it is impressive when a band sounds as if it matures at the same rate or faster than our own ears. But who the hell are we to determine all of that? I know we want to, and I’m as guilty of judging bands as any other music nerd. When it really boils down, though, it all comes down to the fans’ opinion and unneeded attempts to interject that shit into the sonic process. Like the band would shrivel up and sell their amps if they didn’t have the echo chamber of critique bouncing around them.

After a while, I asked him if he is/was in Radiohead. No, he never was, and doesn’t even really play any instruments. So the assessment of what the artist produced is primarily based on his own dirty trick ear. Plus, everyone knows that every musician on Mother Gaia thinks their new stuff is their best. That is fine, because only when you are in the band are you fully warranted in determining what is your favorite, best, worst, etc. For example: I’ve made a few paintings in my time. One was called “Mermacorn Trainer,” which shows a half-mermaid/half-unicorn jumping from the water for a carrot being dangled from someone’s hand. I think it is my best painting because of the time and effort I put into it. However, the painting I did entitled “Frankenstein’s Hard On” is my favorite because it makes me laugh (plus, I’m conceited). I did not state these things as eloquently in this discussion, though I’m sure I used the words “hard on” at some point.

It should also be noted that I’ve never been a fan of “best of” lists or rating systems for CDs and, for that matter, books. It’s more of a sales tool than anything because, unless you’re David Fricke or another person who eats and cums music who also sometimes hangs out with David Bryne and the guys from Radio Birdman, your half stars are completely arbitrary and not reflective of the prism of time. Descriptions and musings on music can help give an outside and needed perspective on a piece of work, but to rate them makes it an unnecessary contest and, I believe, sets the basis for saying something is the best while some other related thing is your favorite.

I think this is especially true if you set up a rating level before or during your experience with said art. You don’t go to the art gallery and see three and a half paintbrushes next to Wayne Thiebaud’s “Pies, Pies, Pies” and determine it is not your favorite piece by the artist because his “Refrigerator Pies” received four paintbrushes. You like the paintings, or hate them, because they tickle your pickle. If you do rely on rating systems to set something as the best even if you have a favorite, then fuck you, because the aforementioned paintings are oily, thick and beautiful visions of pies and you just some prick.

Ultimately, it’s like Lebowski said: “Yeah, well, you know, that’s just like, your opinion, man.”

At the summation of our evening’s chest bumping on music, I was told that I was missing the point and that the “art is subjective” line is tired. That just made me and the child’s lemonade stand-worth of vodka I had ingested by that point in the night angry rather than willing to further the topic.

Also, he was wearing some kind of urban indoor shades. Blublockers over a pair of bifocals would have been less visually offensive, and at least then he might have finished the increasingly heated discussion with a few rap lines about his fresh eye gear.

Pettiness aside (is it really ever?), he’s a smart, decent guy and later in the evening we instead talked about small-time crooks and the humor in the language of criminal complaints. But I can’t shake that people’s egos often bolster their opinions to the point where they believe they determine the best of things. Part of it might just be semantics (saying “I like this band’s first record more than their second” rather than “This band’s fortieth record is better than their thirty-ninth”), but I think it’s an important determination that, even to a small degree, keeps music from being viewed as a fucking football game.

And that’s the best argument I’ve been able to make in this “best/favorite” situation. However, it’s not my favorite argument: that would be Old Skull’s best record is “CIA Drug Fest” because it’s their most solid effort, but “Get Outta School” is my favorite because, well, I heard it after drinking a few cups of peach schnapps. And if you don’t agree with me, your breath smells like an asshole swelled with farts.”

Tonight she was playing alongside Chelsea Wolfe and band mates Dani (drum machine, beats) and Genaro U. (keyboard). From the outset you can sense that Sister Crayon pours her heart and soul into her performance. With every note being sung, she grasps at her chest, and for the remainder of her set we all get a glimpse of what it must be like when she creates music in her room. She explains, “Creating music is probably the only thing in my life that I feel comfortable with, fully confident in. Whether it be just recording simple songs in my bedroom or fronting a full band in front of a crowd, I feel pretty comfortable.” Sister Crayon can best be described as Cocorosie mixed with some Bjork and Portishead with more ambient vocals and more drum machine, plus elements of The Postal Service. Her set was thouroughly enjoyed by all present at Luigi’s Fungarden.

As for plans for the future Sister Crayon mentions she will be releasing her debut album soon through Jeune Ete Records this month. She will be playing a CD release show on February 7 at Luigi’s Fungarden in Sacramento. When asked how her creative outpour starts, she explains, “I really never have a plan when creating music. Lyrics happen all the time. Sitting in a restaurant, writing on napkins, in my room, anywhere. I usually write and record everything in various rooms I live in. It’s always been like that. I’ll go through a time period where all I do is write…I mean, a song or two everyday. And then of course, the opposite, where I go for weeks with nothing. But I’m always thinking. Always trying to convey what I am feeling and put it into a melody or a rhythm structure.” Her comfortableness on stage comes across all night. Her confidence is felt and heard. Her soothing angelic voice soars and once again I am reminded how one can be moved deep inside, how an artist can touch you and make chills run down your spine. Sister Crayon does that.

All photos in this post taken by Cait Loper

And I genuinely regret that decision because it’s everything you thought you wouldn’t hear anymore due to Death from Above 1979’s break up. Sebastian kept the quick drum beats, added a full lineup of musicians, and continued to sing with his trademark voice that resembles a terribly recorded moan.

The use of the synthesizer in this record is what I found to be the most enjoyable. It goes beyond anything you heard on any Death From Above 1979 song. On tracks like Renegade Silence, it gives this 80’s dance beat that you thought you could only hear in Eddie Murphy movies before the 90’s. Without the Synthesizer, Sebastian’s sound would reflect that of just another indie rock group struggling to get their major record label deal.

The record at times does resemble tracks that could have passed off as Death from Above b-sides. But the deeper the listening experience takes you, you realize that there are real gems towards the end of record. To be specific, the track American Names is a glimpse into something I would love to hear more of. It has this Journey/U2 -esque introduction, and afterward just flows into its own niche. He uses his voice in a way you’ve always dreamed to hear.

Overall, I do have a love for this record. And I also love how both the members of Death from Above 1979 decided they weren’t finished with making good music. So, with that being said, give the record a listen.

His music can be found at:

http://www.myspace.com/sebastiengrainger

http://www.sebastiengrainger.net

I pine for a past that was mine, but I also pine for a past that seems unnecessary by todays standards and protocol. Music now is not about sparking revolts and overturning the government and corporations. It seems to be more about cooperating with these existing precepts and letting them be a viable part of your life. That’s all well and good, but a healthy dose of suspicion is needed. All American Rejects is not a bad band because of their name (although, that is pretty much enough to make me want to run them over in a steamroller), but mostly because there is no bite to them and thus no harm done to a precious little teenagers homeostatic environment. It’s like considering the possibility of a life in an air conditioned nightmare “dream” home and the adjoining credit card life support systems as a plausible and sustainable lifestyle that will do no harm. I love preaching to a choir of deaf mongoloids and then feeling their belches heat up my blue blockers and stink up my space. I constantly feel like my perspective is skewed by my lack of “vision” and “understanding” of the American dream as it is now stated in the new year: 2009. Music for the masses is not music, but anthems meant to provoke a sense of unification and pride. I myself feel no such thing when I hear bands on the radio selling “AXE” Body wash and Hair products and sodas with ginseng and antioxidants in them. What is the point of creating sounds via instruments if they could be replicated on computers by lobbyists and technocrats anyway? I am old fashioned. I like my Freedom Rock to bleed a little, perhaps lose it’s voice and mind at times and I need to know that some pissed off 19 year old is making it, otherwise I fear the real terrorists have won. I am not saying it has to be all David Yow and shit, but it can at least be Free of the salesman angle and the misogynistic life lessons and perhaps teach kids to ponder shit around them and within them and question authority again. Perhaps I am missing out on a revolution because I am exactly who they are revolting against. Sorry to harsh your mellow dudes…