So you (quote)-Love-(unquote) me...

This Is Happening

{...by LCD Soundsytem}

~"...You Wanted A Hit? That’s Not What We Do..."~

What you do is.... you work backwards:
I’ll start a band and proclaim, from the beginning, that I’m (already) “losing my edge…,” I’ll sing about the flock of “internet seekers” who will gnaw me like vultures with mouse-pad talons, I’ll sing self-referentially of the pages-long lists of bands that fire varyingly cross my songwriting synapses, I’ll sing of guitars and turntables, I’ll sing about rock kids dancing to Daft Punk, I’ll be profoundly and provocatively ridiculous and self-deprecating – and then, after extravagant and devastating live shows and two more albums, I’ll have back flipped into a kingly credibility that leaves the euro-disco-digging hipsters dropping my name as a quick n dirty reference of any sound that perfectly balances techno, krautrock, indie-electronica, dance, and synth-pop. But, see, I apparently “lost my edge” eight years ago, yet it keeps getting sharper somehow.

Call it manipulative to seemingly parody our tastes with those early lyrics (from "Edge"), or maybe chock it up to Pitchfork.com-hyperbole through the mid-00’s, still!!-we critics can’t avoid overzealous praise – at least, specifically, with LCD Soundsystem’s dabbling in trancey-Kraftwerkian-marches and infectiously dance-inducing/hand-clapped-cow-belled flare-ups; still!!....

LCD leader James Murphy’s compositions feel timeless and uncontainable because his music (backed by a septet of players) is the aural embodiment of a controlled and strategically-pop-aimed explosion of a DJ’s crate of records: “punk rock, new wave and soul, pop music, salsa, rock n roll, calypso, reggae, rhythm and blues,” –stirred and simmered in a recipe that tastes good on the dance floor, or on night drives, or even, somehow, on meditative sun-soaked coffee-sips in the kitchen of the morning-after.

Beyond techno being a more intelligent house music, LCD Soundsystem’s developing canon (particularly on 07’s Sound of Silver) converted its flock by pulling off the baffling feat of intelligentifying all myriad genres of this metaphoric “crate” of musical genres and sensibilities – it made the stupid fun of disco feel sophisticated and it embraced self-scrutiny through embracing-and-also-repudiating that same stupid fun – but, all that post modern shit makes my head hurt. Just press play.

The sound of This Is Happening seems refreshingly disconnected from the romanticized artsy gutters of New York dance clubs: the conga drums, the spacey-wind-chime synths, the cymbal sheering drum fills and the rolling guitars give it all a more cosmic/everywhere-effect. “Pow Pow” is the sleek, charming, instrumentally-eclectic sing-speak styled answer to “Losing My Edge,” but pulsed with an unabashed prog-rock theatrical mid-section. Murphy drops the arty-urban-stuffed-up-nose drawl he affected on the 2005 debut and the too-Bowie-ish-feeling delivery on some of Silver to, (continuing the trend from the poignant and poetic, dance-deifying one-two punch of “Someone Great”/”All My Friends” on Silver) allow his pleasant mid-range voice to be upfront and flex into eye-widening falsettos (“I Can Change”).

As before, when we would cock an eyebrow at the familiarity of certain movements (again, that’s the whole idea with LCD’s crate-scan), “Somebody’s Calling Me” is an enjoyable piano-plodded, finger-snapping strut that sounds like Lou Reed vacillating between Donovan’s “Mellow Yellow” and Iggy Pop’s “Nightclubbing” - Hence the fun of LCD, simultaneously stepping outside of their own art to make you beat-skippingly-aware of your own musical consciousness or of your favorite songs.

We open with the affirming “Dance Yrself Clean:” an ever-building minimalist percussion and speak-sing-ah-AHHH-sighing solemnity that steadily and rewardingly loses the battle to contain the bursting bass and weaving synth melodies – thus that the drums start booming and the harmonies howl louder – a cathartic and cardio-boosting shake up.

“Drunk Girls” is fun and bombastic (and forehead-slappingly-profound, if you listen to the words) but it can feel too much like the “Okay, here’s your single,” moment, just get your 4 minute party-starter out of the way early.

“All I Want” slides and shines with grinning Strokes-ian guitars but continually wafts in psychedelic prog-howling synths and dissonant scraping roars – dreamy into dizzy. “I Can Change” will likely be sampled into some car commercials with its affable 2/4 shimmy beat and Gary Numan-chilled synth-blips, but it’s likely, at least lyrically, the sequel to “All My Friends” in terms of this painfully relatable documentation of nightlife emotion: subtle thrills and dramas put back into perspective. “

You Wanted A Hit” sums up my LCD rant nicely; a darkly echoing electric clang wafts over a subdued beat in a computery-east-Asian feeling melody until that motorik autobahn-beat gets louder and Murphy suggests “maybe we don’t do hits.” Indeed, maybe they do something beyond that… “intelligent hits.” Admired by various music niches, yet not overexposed in the perverse-niche of the mainstream, it’s like all their songs and sound-crafting style – is the hit, the enveloping hit. Don’t over think-it though. “Honestly, you know too much, so leave us-leave us on our own…this is how we do hits.”

more info

Gardens - Thursday - New 7"

..."has it all" is a cliche I particularly begrudge...(blasted hyperbolic marketing, as though your salad bar is going to quench my very-particular bean and radicchio-hankerings, as though all you think I really need in a movie are plastic faces, long legs, car chases and explosions) ...that said, this show....Gardens' new 7" release party at PJs Lager House on Thursday...certainly does, admittedly, have...a lot, if not, 'it all...' at least from a show-goer's experience.

First and foremost...to cull you out down the streetlight-glowing cobblestoned Michigan Avenue of Corktown on a Thursday...you can take in a performance from Gardens (pictured), with their particular style of fast, jangled, jittery twang-punk (listen here) and then check out their new release, a 7" on Just for the Hell of It Records.

Next, you could, as I did, discover what feels aptly described as "...Lansings' best kept secret from Detroit" (lazy cherry-picked quote from all your facebook invites, please forgive), that being The People's Temple - heavy on the resonant, pedal-warped surf-guitars and hazy desert traipsing druggy dirgey psyche-pop affairs - looking forward to it.

Third, you could, as is always diplomatic of us as a local music community, come out and support (or at least nod-to,) a band that's made their way to us from overseas, France's The Dreams (take a listen).

And then, show extra support to one of my favorites (at the least--based upon a particularly fiery and inspird set from the Blowout), that being, The Sugarcoats, (pictured above^) (listen here).

All of that - plus the kitchen's open into the evening and taking your orders - so you can load up on barbecued slabs of whatever to fit between buns thus to soak up all the alcohol you may or may not imbibe.

That's not "...it all." But, c'mon, that's certainly a lot.

5/13 - PJs Lager -
(more info)

Youth of Today

...is not just the name of a vegetarian-propnent American hardcore punk band of the late 80's and early 90's - it's also the phrase that leapt into my head when I saw

A.) The Satin Peaches
and

B.) Lightning Love
...with

C.) The Drags

all lassoed together for a night of music - and it occurred to me that it would likely prove to be an exemplary presentation of this city's young/up-and-coming/bright-eyed/under-25/etc/etc/etc artists and musicians. Youth. Energy. Reckless rock n roll debauchery.

And good pop music, at that.

5/14 - Majestic Cafe

Jeff Eubank - A Street Called Straight

Just as it did with "lost" Detroit garage rock trio Death and their mid-70's release For The Whole World To See...Drag City has, again, unearthed a buried gem - this one is an ornate, flute-fluttered, soft-rock-jazzy sauntering from Kansas City-set singer/songwriter Jeff Eubank.

And, this 1983-re-issue will come highly recommended for when you're in the mood for a slightly-psychedelic swished champer-pop elegance - for Eubank's vision is that of a sepia-soaked polaroid snap of late 70's suburbia with weird-ish middle class lanky quasi-rockers shuffling Mott The Hoople and Big Star in the tapedecks of their beige-trimmed camaros but transmogrified into a more other-planetary-fused surreal-quality.

Plaintive acoustic guitars chime and jangle over shushing, shimmying flutes and steady stepping beats while Eubank's sweet voice combines the warm-blanketing soothe of Simon, Taylor, Fogelberg, all the typical boyish, blandish, yet beautiful voices of the 70's singer/songwriter prevalence. But, also molded by what feels like a autumanl-fogged Zombies-arm-in-arm-with-Byrds melodious muse. It's dashed with a charming naivety - with titles like "Seventeen on the Planet," the 80's-b-movie-tinged fantastical "Earthian Children" and the sax-soaked "Adolescent Daydream."

It is dashed with melodramatic cymabl sheers, mystically cooing synths and head-swimming guitars lofting into spacey-whirled tones. When the mood really starts to detach itself and float up into more atmospheric vibes, his voice zooms up into a disarming falsetto - all the while the steady strumming acoustic guitar is the anchor below, while we meander like a exosphere-flirting kite, high on ultraviolets and transfixed by the glow of Mars up ahead.

Heavy with that warm AM Pop and flirting with soft-rock, but...at it's heart, a classic neo-psychedelia-folk record, wrapped in the handsome grace of waltzing, shuffling chamber-pop. I'm glad it's seeing the light of day.

That said....this day, this day is insane with beauty - so get off the computer, go out and enjoy it.

Then come back and take a listen. More info at Drag City Records - and from Eubank's original label, Yoga Records.

It's out May 18 - more info

Zoos : Elk : Coyote : Jesus : 5-7--lager

^That has to rank in, at least, my top-4 favorite headlines...

Stately, shimmery, baroque-pop quartet Zoos of Berlin is welcoming Justin Stein from NY to play a show at the Lager House. Stein is known as Elk, a harmony-fracturing, noise-pop angled, dreamy-synth-sheen of girl-group cheer meets experimental-prog-tinged drone - like riding a tilt-o-whirl right before the fair closes, you're grinning and giddy but also dizzy from the shifts, risings and lowering, all the while eyes dazed and glizted by the flashing lights and rising meditative moon. (It could likely fit with what us Detroiters have gotten used to via City Center or Randy Chabot's latest musings.)

Then again, Elk also pairs nicely with the burgeoning swirly synth/dance-pop of Coyote Clean Up, who just released an album (Double Trouble Doo Doo Bubble on Afternoonsmodeling.

These three join together with the strident garage-rock extravaganza of Jesus Chainsaw Massacre to complete what is one of the more eclectic line ups in a while..., 5/7 at PJs Lager House.

For an idea of what that night will look like:


For a idea of what that night will sound like......GO

Then, Saturday.... GO here

And read an interview/feature on (this MCB event, here)

Mick Bassett & The Marthas - EP Release - May 13 - The Loving Touch (Ferndale)

Mick Bassett’s speaking voice was often low, timorous; his eyes veiled by hanging shaggy curls. And when I’d catch him bar-side or backstage, he’d often seemed stressed. Maybe the band members were shifting around again, maybe a show didn’t go perfectly, maybe nothing was happening, or not happening fast enough. Makes him sound mysterious and melancholy, I know, but, still…you get the picture.

Last month, Bassett went to Austin and played somebody else’s songs. And, that wound up giving him more confidence and self-awareness than he’s had in all his six years of playing around Detroit. Plus, two new members joined his band, the Marthas (former Satin Peaches guitarist Ryan Wiese and Joel Sanders on bass). He was equally spurred on by drummer Eric Roosen’s knack for sound engineering and basement-set recording studio and the continued allegiance of trombonist Allison Young (of the Kickstand band) and now…

“I’m trying to have more fun with it.” He talks about structuring recordings to simulate groups of people harmonizing, he talks about his want for people to enjoy, even dance to, the Martha’s live shows, he talks about his love for pop music, he talks about just continuing to make records, he talks about his role as an entertainer.

And not taking it all too seriously anymore.

(photo^: Allison Young^)
~

“Being out on the road,” Bassett says, recalling his SXSW-aimed tour with The Hounds Below, “I saw a lot of places I’d never seen and got a lot of time to think. When you spend a lot of time in Detroit, or anywhere you may live, but, especially Detroit, for me,…being cooped up here for a few years, it’s easy to let things get out of whack in your mind. It’s easy to forget, I guess, what drives you or who you really are. In a lot of ways, I was just desperate to get out of here and I wasn’t focusing on things that mattered, but more on trying to just jump steps in terms of trying to make it to the top as fast as I could. But, in the meantime, when I went on tour, I obviously was away from my music…and playing other people’s music and listening to other bands (at SXSW), I think I learned a lot about what it takes to lead a band and what it takes to have a vision…”

Pretty revelatory so far, right? Bassett is known around here for the brass-blared, grimey-grooved, swaying ragtime jaunts through the Martha-ensemble’s interpretations of his bluesy, goth-scorched folk ballads – backed by a band that’s only maintained its drummer and trombonist throughout its nearly four years, with three guitarists and three bassists shifting through…

“…and I think my vision of my music became more clear to me. I’d wake up and I’d be writing these songs, they’d just start coming naturally. It felt real and not forced.” And he uses the word “confident.”

Bassett recalls, again, the stage-side research he’d conducted between Hounds sets in Austin, watching all the other bands at SXSW…bands that, to him, initially represented a bit of embodied-envy, since this, SXSW-or-something-like-it, was something he’d always hoped for the Marthas to reach.

The incorrigible cliché is that SXSW can always serve as a prognostication of the current crop of the cool – the hip – the awesome bands – the new cream of the new crop of the new style and sound and blah blah blah.

Essentially, Mick said, he walked away sort of relieved, refreshed, and believing that “I had something unique to offer,” that the Marthas coulda’ been dropped anywhere into that blurring Texas mess and been able to hold their own and turn some heads.

And that word, “confidence,” comes back; his wanting to wheel his way back to his home band, the Marthas and continue developing the sound with his newest collaborators. Wiese and Sanders came on board towards the end of 2009…guitarist Gordon Smith had moved over to the Sights and bassist Jesse Shepherd-Bates had initially wanted to develop his burgeoning JSB Squad project, but then also wound up re-joining his original band, The Satin Peaches.

In the meantime, through the month of March and April, Bassett gathered the band into Roosen’s basement and laid down four new tracks from songs he’d been writing through the winter. They combined these tunes with the reworking of a 2009 single, “Got Me Wrong” and thus, we have the Laugh Like You Want It EP.

That’s where we stand now. Bassett, himself, has been in the eye-of-the-scene since he was 18, when he and a bunch of other peach-fuzzed freshly mortarboard-flipping youths gave their all in a commendable and energetic indie-rock outfit, aptly named, the Dollfaces; thriving for a couple years in the extinguishing days of the Detroit “garage boom’s” temporary flame.

After that, he balanced the development of the Marthas with a bit of college, but a couple years ago resituated to go at music full time. Through the late 00’s, the Marthas released two EPs and a couple 7” singles.

But, this refreshed Mick and his now clear resonant incanting of finding ‘fun,’ ‘enjoyment’ and ‘entertainment’ through a less keyed up or distracted approach, now feels that this is the truest-of-true beginnings for the Marthas, “the first real statement the band has been able to make.”

For the maturing Mick, growing up on a stage with a perennial acoustic guitar slung at his shoulder (or set by his bedside each morning), he considers those first two Marthas EPs “growing pains” or, at least, “records” (in a documentary sense) “of where you were, what you were doing and the way that you grew up…” He pauses. “Not that I’m done growing at all…I’m sure I’ll feel this way two years from now, again.” And then chuckles.

“Now, I’m really encouraged…” he echoes, again with this optimism. The young man who, before, seemed like all he wanted was to get out of this city…finally got the chance with the Hounds and once he saw the other-supposedly-greener-side of the fence, concluded, “it gave me a lot of inspiration to come back to Detroit and put things together from the ground up and not skip any steps…and get the right people, get them all motivated and just make music and not worry about all the other shit in the music industry…and allow it to happen.”

He praises the recording and mixing work of Roosen, as he worked the boards to help develop Mick’s vision for these new songs and he expresses a gratefulness that the new players, Wiese and Sanders—though they’re songwriters in their own right—seem to be so dedicated to giving Mick their time and contributions.

“I think our shows,” Mick says, musing on the new rapport, “have gotten a lot more fun. People can come and dance and enjoy themselves. We’re entertainers. My job is to entertain people and I feel like I’ve gotten a lot better at that now that I’m a little more free-thinking about what I’m doing.”

“I just want people to experience it,” he says and his tone is ripe with a new purity and hopefulness that I haven’t yet heard from him.

After six years of playing in Detroit, Bassett says, “I realize that worrying about where I’m gonna go next year…” as he admits he often had, “…it just isn’t up to me. The only thing that’s up to me is writing songs and that’s all I want to do.”

May 13 - at the Loving Touch - in Ferndale

The Invisible People 5/15 - Ferndale Library

for more info (and music-related/library-news) head to Kelly's 780.00's blog

Or, check this other library-ish blog...
~

Here's an interview to catch you up on the mischief-maven/animosity-spurring pair of musician/blogger/writers and an overview of exploits through the last 3-ish years.


Bryan Metro and -jr have been posting sharp, scathing commentary about all the Detroit shows they've been attending...blunt (often bellicose) band reviews and hyperbolic spills born from people-watching or actuall nose-to-nose encounters kept lots of internet-clickers entertained and incensed over the last two years.

All the while, Metro was penning a book inspired by all of these events - the result is Invisible People

...which coalesces this season as a joint novel/soundtrack (combining Metro's narrative with -jr's musical soundtrack accompaniment). They'll be reading chapters - performing as their band The Jesus Chainsaw Massacre and will welcome hip-hop artist Sheefy Mcfly to provide interludes - as part of a Prevue Reading/Listening Party - May 15th - at the Ferndale Public Library (642 E. Nine Mile, Ferndale) - from 6pm-8pm - with refereshments offered).

The book follows Metro--the-character, as a "quasi-celebrity on the cusp" in the music community of Michigan who carries himself with predictably high reserves of self-confidence and strong self-regard--as he "tries his luck" in the big cities he finds fame, success, excess and fleeting glory but quickly spirals into the dark-side of his newly conquered world...returning home to find "the greatest horror of all..."
















It (the book,) will vascillate between "drama, comedy, romance, thriller" and "self-help." "Metro" (as an alias of Robby Starr) has drawn from his experiences in the music scene and entertainment world to develop this over-the-top persona that acts as a satire of the superficial nature of society and "a cautionary tale for those who take it too far." He aims for an independent release of the book, his debut novel, this fall.

The book is divided into three parts, each with it's own theme ranging: "hollow socity" - "vigilante justice" - (and finally) "true love."

6pm - Ferndale Library - Reading
Music from JCM and Sheefy Mcfly

(I know many have their differences with this pair - but... for one, this book may offer perspective as to all the ire they stirred up in the (mostly) electronic/written spere and the (sometimes) physical sphere - but, hey, if you need another reason - at least come to support your local library)

Tomorrow - (May 5) - Burton Theatre

Premier of Our School - a film by Oren Goldenberg (trailer here) - hosted by the Burton Theatre, Wednesday at 8:30 pm (tickets $5-$10 sliding scale, 130 seats available...)

Goldenberg grew up a couple miles north of Detroit (a stones throw from the zoo) and graduated from U-M with an honors degree in film and video. He has been working on this production for more than 3 years, starting out with a collaboration with Zachary Takenaga that documented the fundraising efforts to withstand the risk of one high school's closure in 2005 - then leading to the pair's return to document the perspective of students within eight sepaarate high schools slated for closure (back in 2007).

More info here.

More screenings: Friday (5/7 8pm) - Saturday (5pm & 8pm) - Sunday (2pm)

Tumble...Velocity...Sports..."All To All"

I woke up today wanting to write about sports, but instead, false-started, freaked-out and over-analyzed myself. Big Surprise.

"'...But the thing you'd like is that with the multiverse, you have basically every option you want--really, every option you'll ever see or imagine--and one of your selves somewhere has taken that option..."

(-Hand, p.119 You Shall Know Our Velocity - David Eggers)

I woke up wanting to fume a bit 'bout the televised professional sports competition last night, between the San Jose Sharks and Detroit Red Wings - wanting to rail something subjectively supportive of the boys wearing my hometown's colors, like:

"...it seems like anytime the Red Wings made the slightest contact with any San Jose player, that blue-jerseyed player would go limp and flail to the ice, flopping not unlike a fish out of water - thus that the jumpy referees, like band-aid grabbing zealous neighborhood mothers would come to their aid with phantomous love-taps being classified as "holding" or "tripping" penalites."

But strike number-one, in hockey, soccer, baseball, hell...any major sport...is that it's petty, whiny even, to attempt placing "blame" upon officiating... Because at the end of the day, your team's effort will bear the most weight upon the "outcome." So take a breath, cut to commercial, wake up the next day and go back to the real world. It's only a game.

But then...it got me freaking out - why can I be so easily belittling of "sports writing" or sports journalism when I do try my hand at it - Because I can also turn the lens back on myself and realize the comparable triviality of "music writing" or music journalim...my apparent realm of...proficiency...or at least the object of most of my energy.

Like, how, when the volcano erupted in Iceland - music blogs covered it from the angle of "...how this will effect the tour schedules of your favorite Radioheads and LCD Soundsystems and whoever else..." or maybe tie in a Bjork or Sigur Ros angle...

That's all good for a small chuckle.

But why can't I write sports? Becuase I'm still at the junior-grade level of bitching about referees and I need to mature a bit......mature beyond the couch-jettisoned, beer-swilled, television-set yeller who casts aside reason in the fervor of competition...

Tim And Eric: Sports - Watch more Funny Videos

It all gets very Roman-feeling: distract-the-masses with brutish, sweating, grimacing battle...

And then...by the same token, music, mainstream music, the music "biz" and all the plastic faces on television singing and dancing for you - is all distraction as well... Blimey, we'll all need cheering up after we see humans dump five million gallons of oil into the Earth's water and sets to kill innocent sea turtles, dolphins, shrimp and, likely, our continent's only living coral barrier reef around the Keys.

See...I'm freaking out and over-analyzing...probably too much coffee. But, I started musing on Dave Egger's book, Velocity, and the two somewhat bumbling Gen-X-neurotic heroes of that tale, discussing quantum physics. Why should I only be set to music writing? I get that edgy feeling of wanting to split myself into eleven pieces anytime I try to set down to write some supposedly-free fiction writing and I want to follow so many different plot lines, so many different sensibilities, themes, reflections and characters...

How can we choose just one?

I am in the tumble cycle of a drier, bouncing and banging around the metal cylinder and tryiing to put on every article of clothing as I roll...fly zippers and tube socks are hard to fit at that ever spinning angle...

"...if you combine the quantum physics paradigm with the idea of the subjectivity of time, we're basically all alive in a thousand places at once, for a neverending present."

(Hand, p. 120, You Shall Know Our Velocity - Dave Eggers)

I will try my hand at sports, just as I will try my hand at geopolitical-weary harrangueing news items and pleas for social justice and nods to community culture... I will try to wear all these hats.

And the tumble cycle rolls on...

Go Wings!

P.S. - Broken Social Scene's new album Forgiveness Rock Record comes out today on Arts and Crafts - they have a new song on that record called "All To All" which seems to fit my spastic-every-direction-rant...

P.P.S. - The Emory in Ferndale, with the city's Public Library, is hosting another "Book Party" where we'll gather and discuss You Shall Know Our Velocity - here's a link to another blog's post about all that...

CAVE - "Pure Moods" 12" EP (-in Detroit 6/20)

(Vinyl only release from Chicago quintet - available on Drag City).

CAVE on myspace.

Drag City.

Records.

6/20 – Detroit, MI @ Old Miami w/ Mr Quintron and Miss Pussycat

Every once in a while that perfect, temporally-displaced, cloudless sun-blazed day of mad giddy freedom falls on you like the awkward sopped rush of a Gatorade keg tipped by linebackers on your turned back – and you feel renewed, re-inspired and taking pause at the modest ease with which the apparent object of your restoration came – like a steadily rising sun that just said - …here I am.

Thus, I put CAVE into my car stereo for what I knew would be a 25-minute car ride – grasping the 3-song collection as a burned CD thinking this would be a quick EP from some band I hadn’t heard of yet…turns out it was a 12” – with its three entries filling the entirety of the trip – and enhancing my whole afternoon as the sun began to set.

I was transfixed… the opening guitar jitter sounded as though the record was skipping…but after seven shaky seconds a tumbling motorik beat bursts in and it reveals itself to be a tightly wound loop acting as a surged robotic heartbeat under the flexing bass grooves, the blurped chiming synths and the surf toned lead’s melodious coos. The vocalist conjured that monotonish rustbelt yowl, not quite Great Lakes-area yokel and not quite southern twanged bark – that would, in my mind (and, exasperatingly—and repetitiously—also in the mind of many other online zine-ers and bloggers), recall a Mothersbaugh-ian delivery. Meanwhile, that beat…just kept going…and those playful, almost fuck-around noodling synths just kept dancing around the soundscape while the duel guitars continued to yammer at each other. This was, I said to myself (and would find, again, others already saying the same thing to themselves across the internet’s crop of early write ups for this) –a krautrock inspired jam!

CAN! DEVO! Even Neu and Suicide- it felt and tasted like 1983 and I was loving it! This was my sunny day! These unrelenting guitar blazes, these jogging drums, these fuzzed and howled bitty vocals, the ever-chirping synths…the pedals swirling it all up more and more the further the drums took them down this road of swelling synchronized cacophony.

“Teenager” stars with a single gurgling wavy riff that stretches and meanders for a full minute before the more psychedelic wah-whirled guitar and burly bass join in under this herked-and-jerked waltz-punctured drum. It’s exemplary of many similar post-rock, noisy fuzzed out roarers, the way it just keeps clawing and dragging deeper and deeper into the mud until it breaks through onto some rushing rock-bedded rapids off towards some gaping waterfall – the sustained guitars blur further together, the synth continues to cry out, the pedals are stomped and the drums just keep on going…

Dizzying.

But then, as I said, exemplary of any kind of krautrock-spaced-out-jazzed-out-noise-parade worth its salt in reverie for those Faustian/Silver-Apples-ian type dissertations.

Just like any old perfect sunny day can be the simple recipe for inducing epiphany – in this world where we can already, disconcertingly, say that every band has already done every-thing and every-other-blogger has already run through their own kraut-rock incantations whilst writing about this band – I can say, simply, that what they’re laying down is, firstly—done well – and is invigorating. Like these gnarled and raucous guitars and punching-bag drums are apparently juiced with the same vitamin D of those rejuvenating sun-rays of this onsetting Summer. (Let’s not follow that metaphor much further, cuz we enter the risk of sunburns and cancer…but then, as they say, everything gives you cancer, somehow, sometimes, some-way).

Cave…Cave’s got style. They’ve got grit. Their minimalist jams have muscle. But enough said. I’d rather stop writing about it and just listen…