The Verge - Girls, Girls, Girls

Welcome to The Verge: a column dedicated to music on the edge of a breakthrough. After a look at the beginnings of another British Invasion, it's time to return stateside for some female-fronted indie rock.

Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, the Dum Dum Girls signed to indie stalwart Sub Pop last year on the strength of a couple lo-fi EPs and literally one live performance. What started as a solo project by Kristin Gundred (aka Dee Dee) grew into an all-girl rock band that harks back to 60s girl groups, both in sound and style. Gundred had previously found success as a singer/drummer with garage rockers Grand Ole Party.

The Dum Dum Girls play jangly, fuzzed-out indie pop that makes audiences want to do The Monkey and The Swim. Their wall-of-sound is as much Phil Spector as it is Black Tambourine, the short-lived yet influential DC band that played in similar sonic territory in the early 90s. The lead single off of their debut LP I Will Be, "Jail La La," is a sing-a-long headbopper which tells the grim tale of waking up in the county jail.


Visually, the band is all-black and throwback, swaying like dashboard hula dancers. The retro feel is completed with Danelectro and Rickenbacker gear that firmly plants the Dum Dum Girls in a distant time and place. It is a bit gimmicky, but it flows naturally from their name and completes the live experience, as it did at a recent DC9 gig, opening for Male Bonding.

(photo courtesy Matt Dunn)

Screaming Females may share a nominal theme with the Dum Dum Girls, but that's where the similarities end. The Screaming Females play pure rock: aggressive, guitar-driven, ear-bleeding rock music. Here, the screaming female is actually singular: Marissa Paternoster, on lead vocals and guitars, screeches and shreds with reckless abandon. The band muscles their way through hard rock history, from the Sabbath-inspired sludge of "Skull" to the proto-punk of "I Believe in Evil." "Buried in the Nude" gives you a taste of the cacophonous attack that the Females unleash, along with the band's psychedelic sensibility.


Coming out of the New Brunswick, New Jersey basement scene, the band is a DIY tribute to rock bands past. With a full, heavy sound that overwhelmed the 9:30 Club when opening for Ted Leo last week, I can only imagine the damage the band did to young punks and metalheads in basements across the Garden State.

Next time the Dum Dum Girls and the Screaming Females come to town, they'll be headlining. It may not be a movement a la riot grrrl, but the music they make certainly rocks. And once you get past gender issues and expectations, isn't that what really matters?

The Verge - British Invasion

Welcome to The Verge: a column dedicated to music on the edge of a breakthrough. Last week's column profiled a few forward-thinking, left-field beat makers, but now it's time for a quick look across the pond.

Are we in the midst of another British invasion? If musical trends are cyclical, then we're due for the onslaught of UK acts that descends on our shores every twenty years or so. Last year, Little Boots and La Roux lit up dance floors and the bloghaus (if not sales charts). Last night's Florence and the Machine show sold-out the 9:30 Club, and acts like the XX, Marina and the Diamonds, and VV Brown continued to build buzz at SXSW.

Here at TGRI, we've been championing these acts for a while now. So what's next?

Ellie Goulding, the BBC Sound of 2010 winner, is at the top of the list. The 23-year old singer-songwriter released her album Lights on March 1st, and debuted at #1 on the UK Albums Chart. No word on a US release yet, but she continues to amass critical kudos while touring the crap out of Europe.


She's also shaping up to be the next La Roux. While her poppy brand of electronic-tinged folk is strong on its own, remixes by other artists elevate the songs to the next level. London DJs Jakwob and Russ Chimes have put Goulding's lilting vocals and melancholic melodies over beats that take the songs from the coffeehouse to the dancefloor. Jakwob reaches for the love-step wobble, while Russ Chimes brings in the backbeat/piano loop to craft a real house banger.



Ellie Goulding - Starry Eyed (Russ Chimes Remix) by Russ Chimes

Everything Everything is an indie band from Manchester that also appeared on the BBC Sound of 2010 poll. Do they have what it takes to shake up a stagnant indie rock scene, and join Vampire Weekend, Passion Pit, and Phoenix as legitimate cross-over acts? Only time will tell, but on the strength of six songs, they were signed to Geffen in advance of a full length due some time this year. While indie-dance-synth-pop is not novel territory, Everything Everything does it with a dedication to robust riffs and distinct vocal harmonies. Frontman Jonathan Everything (the entire band does the Ramones thing) utilizes a few different styles, from a syncopated sing-speak to an impressive falsetto, that is stronger and less piercing than that of Passion Pit's Michael Angelakos.

The band's breakout single, "MY KZ UR BF" (or "My Keys, Your Boyfriend") has the potential to be the next "Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance." With a sing-along chorus and a new wave-meets-math rock construction, the song is catchy and danceable enough to get beyond its too-cute-by-half abbreviated name. The band's creative videos show a sense of humor lacking from some of their peers, and will only help them breakthrough, especially when a middling band like OK Go has turned the viral video into an art form.





These are just two of the sounds coming out of the UK. If you don't want to be an Anglophile like me, just keep an eye on The Verge - I have a feeling we're only at the beginning of this invasion.

Japandroids @ Rock & Roll Hotel - 3/29/10

Indie rock is defined by trends. Call it revival, tribute, or pastiche, but bands that fall under the generous umbrella of "indie rock" are constantly going back to the well of rockers past for inspiration. A current trend finds many bands aping the sound of shoegaze pioneers like My Bloody Valentine, creating huge walls of fuzz that wash over the listener like waves of static.

Vancouver's Japandroids get fuzz, but rather than waves, they release blasts of distorted guitars like a fire hose. Playing Rock and Roll Hotel last night, the band captivated a packed house for over an hour with aggressive but fun garage rock.

Guitarist Brian King and drummer David Prowse split the stage like Solomon's baby. Like other notable duos, chiefly Death From Above 1979, they compensate for the lack of a bass guitar with a full-frontal sonic assault, all muscular chords and non-stop drumming. Earplugs are necessary, but the sound is clear despite being extremely overdriven. The riffs are familiar and catchy, recalling alternative rock from the mid-90s and early 2000s, be it grunge or emocore. While they share vocal duties, King takes the lead, with a charming blend of mania and Canadian aw-shucks pleasantness. They're genuinely appreciative but self-deprecating, like when King told the crowd that they didn't deserve applause after an unsatisfactory (to the band) performance of "Hearts Sweats."

Japandroids played most of their Pitchfork-approved record Post-Nothing, along with older material, including a cover of Mclusky's "To Hell with good intentions" and obscure songs like "Body Bag." After a brief intro, the band kicked into high gear with "The Boys Are Leaving Town," where Prowse's extended drum fills mirror the chorus: "will we find our way back home?" On "Rockers East Vancouver," King took the opportunity to "dance around and play guitar like an asshole," his favorite part of the set. After a bit of hypnotic sludge that bordered on stoner rock, the band launched into standout "Young Hearts Spark Fire," with it's sing-along chorus of "We used to dream / now we worry about dying / I don't wanna worry about dying / I just wanna worry about those sunshine girls."



Opener Love is All, a five-piece from Sweden, played a set of bouncy punk and pubhouse rock. Lead singer Josephine Olausson, looking like Steve Zissou in her striped shirt and orange skullcap, sings slightly off-kilter rallying cries, reminiscent of other Scandinavian singers like Ida Maria and Lykke Li. Unfortunately, the band was pushing into the red, and the resulting cacophony sounded unfocused and repetitive. The band could stand to take a cue from Japandroids and perfect the mixing; it's a shame that the rollicking songs on the recently released Two Thousand and Ten Injuries were lost in a bad mix.

Album Review: Starks and Nacey - TRO/Lydia EP

Starks and Nacey are no strangers to the DC scene. The two are a big part of the city's hottest dance parties: the electro freakout Nouveau Riche (coming soon to the U Street Music Hall aka "Temple of Boom") and the hip hop senior prom KIDS. The pair released a self-titled EP last year, showcasing their musical range: from Bmore club (“You Don’t Want None”), to exotic electro (“So Sexy”) and all points in between.

Released today, Time Run Out / Lydia EP (T&A Records) finds the duo going further down the rabbit hole. "Time Run Out" kicks off the EP; with its heart-palpitating rhythm, grimey synth stabs and a rumbling bassline, it builds to a fist-pumping crescendo. The track is a deep, layered beast ready for the dancefloor. Starks gets a little funky on "Lydia," a Latin house romp that blew up Austin dancefloors throughout SXSW (keep watch for a Moombahton remix). Nacey's contribution here is "Work for This," a re-release from the initial EP. The looped horn sample over reverse cymbals gives the song a sexy, hypnotic appeal.

Remix duties are handled by friends of the group. Label-head DJ Ayres gives "Time Run Out" a two-step feel and focuses on the ricochetting synthlines. Both Smalltown Romeo and Sabo take a crack at "Lydia;" the Canadian collective / recent Plant Records signees amp up the electro funk and vocode the vocals, while Sabo takes another route and accentuates the track's Latin roots. Rounding out the EP is Nouveau Riche partner Gavin Holland's ravey reworking of "Work for This." In trademark style, Gavin adds both the drops from Rob Base's seminal "It takes two" and the smooth synth from Snoop's "Sexual Eruption," taking the track to the next level.

Starks and Nacey are currently laying seige to Miami as part of WMC festivities, and EDM fiends of all stripes will eat up the tracks on this EP. But hopefully they'll also hear tracks from the guys' first EP, as well. While "Time Run Out" and "Lydia" are fun tracks, there is nothing on the EP as exciting as the disco banger "Lose Your love" or the breathy groove on "Don't Let Me Go." Still, TRO/Lydia gives some of DC's finest DJs a chance to take their game to the next level. And that's exciting on its own.

FOUR OUT OF FIVE STARS

Grab the EP on Amazon or Juno, and check out Starks and Nacey's mix for Flashing Lights!

Janelle Monae @ Black Cat, 3/15/10

Janelle Monae is an alien, an outsider, a misfit. Confounding critics and listeners since appearing on the Big Boi- curated Got Purp? Volume 2 back in 2005, she’s also been Exhibit A in one of the music industry’s most persistent and perplexing failings: what to do with black alternative artists. For an industry that hasn’t used the term “race records” since 1958, not a lot has changed, especially for artists that challenge the “hip-hop, R&B or nothing” paradigm. Unlike the census form, there isn’t an “other” box to check. Just ask Saul Williams, K-Os, and Kenna.

But all of that may be changing, with the little-d democratizing of the digital age, especially for an artist like Monae. At the Black Cat on Monday to kick-off her ArchAndroid tour, her performance art-cum-concert even made a few tongue in cheek references to Twitter, Facebook, and God forbid, MySpace. And playing to a sold-out crowd, something must be working. Maybe the wave of (rightly deserved) hype that she’s been riding for nearly half a decade is finally ready to break.

With Monae not taking the stage until two and half hours after doors opened, the audience was anxious, to say the least, as introductory music and video played until around 10:30. But any ill will was quickly forgotten as the performance kicked off. Monae, in trademark throwback trappings, stayed “in character” the entire show, with her herky-jerky dance moves and impressive vocal range. She was joined on stage by an on-spot three piece band and a few other performance artists, throwing balloons and noise makers into the first rows.

The songs of ArchAndroid dominated the set; only “Sincerely, Jane” from her debut EP Metropolis: The Chase Suite made an appearance, bittersweet for fans hoping to hear favorites like “Violet Stars Happy Hunting” and “Many Moons.” However, the first singles off her debut full length, the smooth, swinging “Tightrope” and the stirring “Cold War,” are in familiar enough territory that fans, old and new alike, will be singing and dancing along in no time.

After a dense 45 minute set that moved between operatic ballads and jams that just drip funk, it was time for Monae to blast off and head for her home planet. But not before fearlessly crowdsurfing the entire crowd, threatening to brain herself on the low ceilings at the Cat. Forgoing an encore for an after party at the Renaissance was an interesting choice, although I don’t know how many restless androids took her up on the offer. ArchAndroid lands on May 18.

VV Brown @ DC9, 2/19/10

"Do you guys like rock 'n' roll music?" For the crowd at British songstress VV Brown's sold-out Friday show at DC9, the answer was a resounding "yes."

The music world is constantly faced with revivals of past styles; everything old is eventually shined into something new. Most of Brown's debut Travelling Like the Light takes the form of a rock n' roll & doo wop pastiche that recalls the pioneers of 50s and 60s pop music. It's not necessarily novel territory (Brian Setzer revived similar sounds in both the 80s and 90s), but Brown does put her own spin on the ball. Her bouncy vocals are strong enough to carry the hook heavy songs, and she cuts an imposing figure on stage: a 5'11" Lady Gaga-meets-Janelle Monae hybrid.

Taking the stage in a Gaga-ish masquerade get-up, Brown and her backing band launched into "Everybody," a toe-tapper that sounds like "Black Betty" with a disco chorus. Next up was "Game Over," aided by backing tracks - a disappointing conceit for someone so dedicated to recreating the golden age of rock 'n' roll. The songs are strong enough to stand on their own without the note-for-note production found on the album.



The crowd thoroughly enjoyed the set, dancing and singing along at the sock hop throwback. A cover of Drake's hit "Best I Ever Had" was a crowd-pleaser, as was the swinging surf rocker "Crying Blood," augmented by a reggae remix that let Brown take the crowd "back to the islands." Closing the set was one of the strongest singles from her album, "Shark in the Water," a strummer reminiscent of KT Tunstall's "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree."

V V Brown - Shark In The Water

VV Brown | MySpace Music Videos

Another artist on the BBC Sound of 2009 list, VV Brown offers a fresh take on classic sounds - and a fun experience for those who were too young to jump, jive, and wail during the late 90s.

Artist Spotlight: Little Bigheart and the Wilderbeast

As their name suggests, DC rockers Little Bigheart and the Wilderbeast is all about the chaos and juxtaposition of colliding influences. Attempts to classify their sound with a one-size-fits-all genre are futile; from freak folk to progressive rock, Little Bigheart distills the disparate influences of its four members into something soulful and vital.

At a recent gig at the Velvet Lounge, the band's surprisingly robust sound was on full display. Bryn Bellomy (bass/keys/samples), Russell Joye (drums), Patrick Mulroy (guitar), and John Russell (guitar) cover a lot of sonic real estate while staying cohesive. Bellomy, Mulroy, and Russell share vocal duties, belting our three-part harmonies and soaring, theatrical melodies. Each brings a different character to the vocal sound: Bellomy's is breathy and falsetto, Mulroy's soulful and gravelly, Russell's earnest and crisp. And while they don't always nail the harmonies, they leave it all on the stage, like any rough-around-the-edges rockers worth their salt.

The band's set kicked off with the four-part suite on their concept EP The Assassination of Julius Caesar and its Barbarous Aftermath. Little Bigheart moves from mournful Americana to funky, Thin Lizzy riffage and back again. Complete with epic lyrics (retelling the fall of the Roman Republic), the performance of the EP resembled a jam session, anchored by Roye's steady, behind the beat drumming. However, the band sidesteps the pretension that usually accompanies prog rock or jam bands, and the medley simply rocks for 13 minutes.

Album Review: Marina and the Diamonds - The Family Jewels

The BBC “Sound of…” poll is an annual attempt by leading UK tastemakers to find the pulse of the upcoming year in music. Chart toppers have included everyone from Adele to 50 Cent, with artists like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Vampire Weekend, and Santigold rounding out the top ten lists. However, the list may be a self-fulfilling prophesy, and the individual rankiangs leave a bit to be desired; 2009 clearly belongs to Lady Gaga (#6), while Little Boots (#1) didn’t even release her album stateside.

Even with those caveats, the poll is generally a good tool for discovering artists on the edge of a breakthrough, like Sound of 2010 runner-up Marina and the Diamonds, who is set to release her debut record The Family Jewels on February 22.

Marina and the Diamonds is the stage name of Marina Diamandis, a half-Greek, half-Welsh chanteuse with a deep, rich voice and a unique take on pop songwriting (unlike Florence and the Machine, the Diamonds are not her backing band, but her fans). After bouncing around universities and teaching herself piano, she ended up in London to pursue a musical career. In 2007, she released her self-recorded demos, Mermaid vs. Sailor, and was eventually signed to 679 Records, home to electropop stars Little Boots and Annie.

The Family Jewels is a stunning debut, with thirteen shining examples of piano-driven songwriting. Marina is quirky and theatrical, bringing a mature, cerebral edge to what is basically a pop record (only one song clocks in over the four minute mark). Stylistically, she’s equally adept with singer-songwriter ballads (“Numb”) and new-wave throwbacks (“Shampain”). Her compositions are aided by dense production that begs for live performance without trampling over catchy melodies and hooks.

After releasing brooding, down-tempo songs like “Obsessions” and “I Am Not a Robot” as singles, Marina got the message about what works in 2010 pop music. “Hollywood,” the first proper single off the record, balances both of her sensibilities, building from dark synths and strings to a shimmering chorus that belies the tone of the lyrics: “Hollywood infected your brain / You wanted kissing in the rain / Oh oh, I’ve been living in a movie scene / Puking American dreams / Oh oh, I’m obsessed with the mess that’s America.” The cynicism doesn’t stop there: “you look just like Shakira, no no, you're Catherine Zeta, actually, my name is Marina,” nails the industry need to classify and pigeonhole.



Marina’s ability to juxtapose musical and lyrical content is also apparent on “Oh No,” a danceable jaunt with lyrics that paint the picture of a reluctant pop star: “Don't want cash / don't want card / want it fast want it hard / don't need money / don't need fame / I just want to make a change.” Propelled by an insistent kick drum and bassline combo, the song bounces along as Marina tears down what we expect from a 23-year old pop starlet.

Every year brings another crop of female singer-songwriters; the road to Fame is paved with would-be Next Big Things. So what makes Marina and the Diamonds any different? With dance pop dominated by Gaga (and flavor of the week Ke$ha), pop music as a whole is in dire need of a songstress who can pull together the disparate strands of piano-based music to craft something new, like a quilt made of Regina Spektor, Amanda Palmer, and Siouxie Sioux. With Marina and the Diamonds, those Brits may be on to something.

FOUR STARS

Freddie Gibbs and the Return of Gangsta

Part of the Alpha Male Music Week at True Genius Requires Insanity.

You could probably write a thesis on the alpha male in hip-hop (if be_gully hasn’t already written said thesis, there should at least be an abstract on the subject here soon). Some combination of money, women, drugs, and guns are lyrical mainstays of rap for a reason. Reveling in such pure id is escapism of the highest degree. When it comes to lyrics that are exciting and engaging, transgression is better than introspection.

Which brings us to the class of 2009. The much-debated freshman class of hip-hop as editorialized by XXL (alphabetically: Ace Hood, Asher Roth, B.o.B., Blu, Charles Hamilton, Cory Gunz, Curren$y, Kid Cudi, Mickey Factz, and Wale), for the most part, are big into beta. So, for fans of hip-hop that demonstrates both street authenticity (Gucci Mane) and rapping talent (not Gucci Mane), who is out there fighting the good fight?

Enter: Freddie Gibbs. Born and raised in Gary, Indiana, the 27-year-old is out to prove that gangsta isn’t dead. After being dropped by Interscope Records, Gibbs produced and released two mixtapes within months of each other this year: The Miseducation of Freddie Gibbs and midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik (a third, The Label’s Trying to Kill Me, is a compilation tape that cuts-and-pastes from both). Right off the bat, the title references touch on a desire to be a part of the pantheon of rap classics rather than on the level a mere mortal.

Gary, Indiana is fucking hard. The crack age coupled with the decline of American industry have left Gary harder hit than either East St. Louis or Baltimore. There is no silver lining. And this is the crucible in which Gibbs has been forged: “Sixty percent unemployment / Why you think we sellin’ dope?” The facts of his environment are inescapable, physically for many and mentally for all. Gibbs’ lyrics are unapologetically about this life, not to glorify or to educate, they just exist, familiar stories that are so outrageous they seem fictional. The themes are classic alpha male rap: dealing drugs and smoking weed (“Boxframe Cadillac”), scamming chicks (“Bussdown”) and killing dudes (“Murda on My Mind”).

Stylistically, Gibbs’ hardened voice and smooth flow take many forms: at times, it’s the Southern syrup of UGK, at others the rat-a-tat of Midwesterners like Bone Thugs-n-Harmony. The beats range from pure g-funk (“Talkin’ Bout You”) to trap-hop (“Summa Dis”), paying reverence to a by-gone era with tasteful samples (Biggie’s “Beef” shows up on “Standing Still”). Contrast this with the constant, braying namedropping of the Game: which is a better (and more alpha) tribute to the golden age of gangsta?

For a song that encapsulates Freddie Gibbs the artist, take this alpha male manifesto from the chorus of “Womb to the Tomb:” “From the cradle to the grave / the womb to the tomb / Imma get it win or lose / I’m just out here making moves / from the womb to the tomb / the cradle to the grave / till I jack up out this bitch / I’m out this bitch / get paid.” Sure beats “Man, I love college.”

Dispatches from Suburbia: Miami's Design District

While my first night back in South Florida took me to West Palm Beach, my second found me in the opposite direction, deep in Miami’s Design District. The neighborhood is across Biscayne Bay from South Beach, and gentrification has spawned over a hundred galleries, showrooms, boutiques, and eateries in a formerly run-down section of downtown Miami.

The first stop of the night was the Wynwood Social Club, a mixed-use arts venue, for acoustic duo Raffa and Rainer’s album release party. The Wynwood has an open, community room vibe, with local art on the walls and found furniture throughout; I enjoyed the show from a PanAm airplane seat. Opening the show was (not that) Danielle Steele, a singer-songwriter not even out of high school, with a quirky sound that evokes Regina Spektor. Next up was scene veteran (not that) Jesse Jackson, who played a combination of banjo, ukulele, and harmonica in a short set that found him covering both Elton John and James Taylor; standout number “If Wishes Were Horses” was as haunting and bluesy as ever.

Confession time: trying to experience the Miami scene like eating from sample plates at Whole Foods was a mistake; I left the Wynwood way before I had my fill. Still, it was worth it to see a bit of Miami's burgeoning folk scene. For the brevity, I’ll blame the night’s second destination: the Vagabond, to see Surfer Blood. I’m all about nightlife on a budget, so when I saw “free before 11” and “$1 PBR and Rolling Rock,” I made the fateful decision to leave early and hustle down North Miami Avenue. When neither of these promises was true, I was already inside the venue and pissed off. I hate being nickel and dimed and I hate false advertising, so the Vagabond gets poor marks for both.

ANYWAY, once inside the club and easing my spirits with America’s Best 1893, I was able to objectively judge my surroundings. Unlike Respectable Street, Vagabond is all about the décor and hipster chic; if you want a more upscale clientele, you invest in the look and feel of your club. The bar’s DJ was spinning the usual fare, and the only difference between the crowd and one at say Nouveau Riche was the smoking (something I could have sworn was banned in civilized society, but I digress).

A bit after midnight the crowd migrated to the back room, which was another dance floor with a small stage set up. Tallahassee’s Holiday Shores opened the show and play lo-fi, surf pop. Heavy on the Brian Wilson influence, the band could stand to tighten up their ambitious arrangements. Still, the music was light and danceable, and not unpleasant. What was unpleasant was the blaring electro/techno between sets - wasn’t this a rock show? Luckily, Surfer Blood quickly took the stage, and the Palm Beach quintet showed the crowd how it’s done.

Together for less than a year and riding a wave of buzz from their performances at CMJ, the band plays a catchy mix of indie pop and garage rock. The songwriting reminds me of Blue album Weezer and early Shins, without the pretension of Vampire Weekend, or the host of other blog bands that have gone to this well before. The vocals are drenched in reverb, the guitars unleash waves of fuzz, and the percussion even touches on the Afro-pop flavor that is so en vogue right now. Their debut album, Astro Coast, was recorded in a University of Florida dorm room, and drops in January. They’ll be doing a few dates in the US before heading to the UK, and by the time they return, Astro Coast will be the sound of 2010. Mark your calendar for February 24, when Surfer Blood, Holiday Shores, and Turbo Fruits descend on DC9, bringing a little bit of Florida sunshine to the DMV.

Next Dispatch from Suburbia: Rusko at White Room.

Photo of Surfer Blood at the Vagabond by Ian Witlin, Miami New Times.

Dispatches from Suburbia: Flaunt @ Respectable Street

While I grew up in South Florida and went to college in Miami, I never really immersed myself into the nightlife. As you can guess by my output here, I grew up on rock shows. So, with a Christmas break of nearly two weeks, I decided to be an investigative reporter and search for The Scene, an ever-elusive alternative/indie/underground culture, in South Florida. Something, anything, that proves my old stomping ground is more than retirees and South Beach superclubs.

Like any good reporter, I did my research, scouring the Internets for venues, performers, and promoters, without much luck. There lacks any cohesive resource for finding out what’s going on in South Florida, the nearly 75 mile stretch of communities off of I-95. Love it or hate it, at least BrightestYoungThings exists. The closest thing I found was The Honeycomb, which, while helpful, is far from comprehensive.

My search took me to Respectable Street Cafe, the “oldest alt music club in the SE USA,” for the Thursday night weekly Flaunt, which bills itself as an Indie / Hip Hop / Electro / Dance party. Nothing says “hipster bait” like $1 PBRs, so I was off to Clematis Street.

While DC was preparing for Snowpocalypse 2009, South Florida was being assaulted by torrential downpour. Ever go to The Living Seas at Epcot? The weather reminded me of how oceans were born: “the deluge.” So I’ll forgive Clematis for not exactly being at its finest on Thursday.

Respectable Street is a mid-sized venue, complete with a stage, dance floor, patio, and rows of couch/booth hybrids. The crowd was a disparate mix of tattooed punks, hipsters, and dress-to-impress kids who got lost on their way to Miami. Unity in the scene or a lack of options on a Thursday? You decide!

Musically, I was expecting something along the lines of DC9's Liberation Dance Party: a mix of Pitchfork-approved dance tracks. I wasn’t disappointed; the DJ collective of Marvelous Kendall, The Commissioner, JJ Contramus, Glowtape, and Ozwaldus started the night with some indie-dancers like Girls’ “Lust for Life” and the Jokers of the Scene remix of “Little Secrets” by Passion Pit. As the night progressed, the music traversed down the La Roux-Calvin Harris axis, and the dance floor was packed and moving. A bit of hard techno was out of place and unwelcome to most (“What is this, the Jersey Shore?”), but after the brief Guido-foray, things were back to normal. Headlining DJ Jason Tyler brought a trumpet into the mix, a welcome but unusual addition to a DJ set. And when West Palm got down at Major Lazer O’clock, I felt at home.

I would definitely check out Flaunt again: cheap drinks, interesting crowd, above-average playlist, and a 3am close. Well done, West Palm. Well done.

Next Dispatch from Suburbia: Miami’s Design District

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists @ The Black Cat, 12/3/09

Hometown heroes Ted Leo and the Pharmacists returned to a sold-out Black Cat on Thursday armed with a set heavy on new material from their upcoming record The Brutalist Bricks (their first album on new home Matador Records). Opening the night were DC’s Title Tracks, fronted by scene veteran Jon Davis, and Brooklyn’s Radio 4.

Title Tracks’ set delighted the early crowd with a mix of surf rock and jangly powerpop that would fit in a 60s AM radio playlist. Their Dischord debut It Was Easy drops early next year. Radio 4, with a dual-guitar/dual-vocal attack and danceable rhythms that owe much to Davis’ old band (Q and Not U), got the crowd moving to some serious dance-punk.

Forever DIY punks, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists took the stage and setup their own instruments. Their two hour set, marred by some early technical difficulties, was a treat for the Pharmacist faithful in the audience, even if twenty something songs didn’t allow for one of the frontman’s renowned stories. Still, Ted was engaging as ever (I’ve seen him a half a dozen times, both with the band and solo, so I’m pretty sure that warrants first-name-basis). “Fuck the public option,” he sneered. “I want free health care.” And to the incessant fans who request set staples, “Do you really think we’re not going to play [“Timorous Me”]?” This one garnered a round of applause, although he later remembered that the song was not on the setlist in Philly. Oops.

After kicking off with the raucous punk rockers “Heart Problems” and “Me & Mia,” bass amp problems led to a solo cover of the Pogues’ “Dirty Old Town.” The bittersweet nostalgia of those lyrics was a constant throughout the night, whether on their 2003 Thin Lizzy-riffed tribute to the Specials, “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?” or brand new stand-out “Even Heroes Have to Die.”

The band put on a powerpop clinic, with the urgency of punks from a bye-gone era. When singing, Ted looks like every note physically pains him; it isn’t pretty, but from the barked out chorus of “Army Bound” to his trademark falsetto, his singing is spot-on as he nails the tone of each song. Ted is joined by rhythm guitarist James Canty, playing with a ferocity that makes you believe in the power of 16th notes. The locked-in rhythm section of Chris Wilson and Marty Key provide an insistent, driving groove throughout the set. Wilson’s drumming is particularly astounding, as he effortlessly rocks out with speed and precision, so fast at certain points that astute listeners were sure he was using a double bass kick.

And while their technical skills are impressive, the strength of the work is definitely in Ted’s songwriting. New songs like “Where Was My Brain?” rock just as hard (or harder) as anything he’s ever written, returning to the well of DC hardcore from which he sprang. But it’s songs like “One Polaroid A Day,” with its infectious pop hook, where they really shine. Watch Ted play it at CMJ, and try not to sing and dance along. It’s impossible.

Little Dragon @ Liv, 11/22/09

Little Dragon, one of Sweden’s finest imports, returned to Liv on Sunday, after wowing a DC audience on the same stage four months ago. The band, fronted by Swedish-Japanese chanteuse Yukimi Nagano, is touring in support of Machine Dreams, the follow-up to their 2007 self-titled debut, released earlier this month.

A Little Dragon show is essentially a Yukimi show. With all due respect to keyboardist Hakan Wirenstrand, bassist Fredrik Kallgren Wallin, and drummer Erik Bodin (all talented musicians), the main attraction is clearly their lead singer. Yukimi, looking particularly nymph-like on Sunday, is a shark on stage: you have to wonder if she’ll expire if she stops moving, as she sings, dances, and contributes additional percussion to the mix. Her vocal performance finds her modulating and contorting her already unique sound, keeping the audience on its toes.

The band’s performance, much like that of the Foreign Exchange, is greatly enhanced by live percussion, supplemented but not supplanted by programmed ones. The hypnotic rhythms are given a greater sense of urgency than on record. And on Liv’s top-notch sound system, the overall sound is vibrant and powerful: you can feel the bass in your soul.

After taking the stage, the band launched right into Machine Dreams opener “A New” and never looked back. For the next 100 minutes, the band captivated the audience with songs from both of their records, seamlessly transitioning between both. The electronic swing of “After the Rain” was accentuated by Yukimi’s intense yelping. The band is tight, whether embarking on a junkyard percussion breakdown on “Test” or speeding up “My Step” for a better dance floor reception.

Yukimi’s stage banter is always at a minimum, but she did ask if the band could play “a song about nightmares:” Machine Dreams standout “Blinking Pigs,” a new wave tour de force with a killer synth bassline. Her crowd engagement is unparalleled, however, as “Looking Glass” finds her dancing through the crowd, tambourine in hand. It’s clear why she’s greeted with cries of “we love you Yukimi!” at all of the band’s shows.

The crowd seemed worn down by the end of the set, as only truly hardcore revelers were still dancing through the extended outro that ended “Runabout.” However, the encore provided the perfect capper, as the sinister bass rumble of “Wink” became a never-ending jam, transitioning to “Constant Surprises” and back to “Wink.” The band took hold of a house groove and didn’t let go. For fans of Little Dragon, a band that seems to have burst onto the scene out of nowhere, it can all be summed up in the refrain: “Constant surprises / Coming my way / Some call it coincidence / But I like to call it fate.”

Still haven’t heard this phenomenal band? Check out the Couch Sessions x DJ Supa Kool DJ Uncle Q mixtape, a Tribute to Yukimi Nagano. You won't be disappointed.

Amanda Palmer @ the State Theatre, 11/19/09

(Photo courtesy Don Whiteside)

Sometime during her Thursday performance at the State Theater, Amanda Palmer joked that, “We’ll see where the fucking spirit takes us, yo.” Her tone was facetious, but the sentiment was true. After opening the night with an enlightening music business Q&A before openers Nervous Cabaret took the stage, Amanda Fucking Palmer (as she’s affectionately known to her fans) embarked on an evening of pure Brechtian punk cabaret brilliance. Whether solo or accompanied by the Nervous Cabaret, playing songs off her solo debut (last year’s Who Killed Amanda Palmer?) and crowd-pleasers from the Dresden Dolls catalogue, Amanda Palmer gives the crowd what it wants.

The Nervous Cabaret is a Brooklyn-based band that looks and sounds like they belong in a Bayou blues bar. Their name is misnomer: there is nothing “nervous” about these guys, who are all swagger, in their thrift-store suits and pork pie hats. Bandleader Elyas Khan, somewhere between Lemmy and Johnny Depp, spits and howls without abandon, his vocal runs tinged with Middle Eastern melodies. The band has a keen understanding of dynamics, knowing when a guitar or trumpet riff is enough, and when the entire band should scream like their heads are on fire. They’re also the perfect opening act, hyping the crowd for what for what is sure to be a total bacchanalian affair: what else explains the bassist’s creepy goat mask?

Emerging from the back of the house in a procession resembling either a funeral or a wedding, and decked out like a goth Moulin Rouge performer, Amanda Palmer launched into the dour tale of unrequited (and forbidden) love, “Missed Me,” off the Dresden Dolls eponymous debut. Predictably, the crowd went wild.

While last year’s tour with the Danger Ensemble tended towards performance art, Palmer’s utilization of such a versatile backing band in the form of the Nervous Cabaret pushes the performance into rock show territory. Songs on WKAP that were either stripped down or dropped altogether the last time around benefit from this arrangement, with horns standing in for strings on powerful, rollicking songs like “Astronaut” and “Runs in the Family.”

Fittingly, the band left the stage, as Palmer keyed the intro for “Ampersand,” a song that finds an empowered Palmer soldiering on alone; it’s impossible to not read into the lyrics some of the underlying tensions that led to the dissolution of the Dresden Dolls. After “Ampersand,” it was time for Ask Amanda, where Palmer takes questions from the audience. Palmer is a performer 24/7, and no facet of her life is off-limits or out-of-bound; her engagement with fans, directly and through social networking, serves as a template for other “noncommercial” artists who struggle to push units and stay solvent.

The jazzy swing of “Mandy Goes to Med School” allowed the band introductions to veer into solos by the talented five-piece. Sandwiched between covers of the Ting Tings’ “That’s Not My Name” and the Animals’ “House of the Rising Sun” was fan-favorite “Coin Operated Boy,” with the lyrics taking the transgressive twist they always do.

A special, DC-metro-area-only treat was Palmer’s duet with her father Jack, doing his best Johnny Cash impersonation, on the haunting Leonard Cohen classic “One of Us Cannot Be Wrong.” For the second encore, Palmer brought the band back on stage for “Oasis,” the tongue-in-cheek, major key ode to date rape, molestation, and abortion. Replacing the bridge with a rousing cover of “Twist and Shout” reminded the audience what they love about this talented performer: she’s hilarious, she’s inappropriate, she’s Amanda Fucking Palmer.

The xx @ DC9, 11/15/09

Acts that play DC9 usually unload their gear from the backs of their own vans and cars, so the sight of a truly rock-and-roll tour bus outside the club on Sunday meant only one thing: “It” band of the moment The XX had rolled into town on a bus befitting their bloghaus buzz.

Since forming in 2005, the XX has gone from West London high-schoolers to underground sensation on both sides of the pond. And while the majority of the 2009 British invasion has tended towards danceable electropop (Little Boots, La Roux, et al), the XX refocus their pop and R&B influences inward, crafting soulful indie rock that is dark and sexual.

The riptide of hype has already swallowed one member, as guitarist/keyboardist Baria Qureshi recently quit the band after an exhausting slate of CMJ showcases. The XX soldier on a three-piece, as her departure has caused the band to improvise and adapt arrangements, without much margin of error.

Opening the night was Jon Hopkins, an electronic music producer whose songs are glitchy and atmospheric, sounding at times like outtakes from a Clint Mansell score, and at others, instrumentals begging for a female vocalist, a la Zero 7 and Frou Frou. The pulsating drums and sweeping synths rang the gamut from dubstep to drum-n-bass, firmly on the “electronic” side of an electronic/dance music Venn diagram. Unfortunately, watching Hopkins manipulate his gear is not particularly captivating. The crests never broke and he seemed to out stay his welcome. However, it was the perfect music for an opener, leaving enough ambience and mystique in the air for the main attraction.

To rousing applause, the XX took the stage. The band’s youth (they’re all 20!) was on display throughout the night, but not in an unpleasant way. The set list stayed relatively close to the record, with a few covers mixed in: their masterful reworkings of the funky club track “Do you mind?” and the Womack & Womack hit “Teardrops,” a song recorded before the band members were born. Oliver Sim (bass and vocals) seemed genuinely excited by the band’s first trip to Washington; his reference of Ben’s Chili Bowl was earnest and unrehearsed. And while they missed their marks or played the wrong notes a few times, it reminded the audience what they are witnessing: gifted songwriters whose talents belie their age and experience.

In front of a display emblazoned with their stark logo, the goth-attired trio worked through twelve of the fifteen songs they have committed to record (their cover of Florence and the Machines “You’ve Got the Love” was sorely missed). The interplay and counterpoint of Sim’s smoky vocals with the breathy ones of guitarist Romy Madley Croft are just as sorrowful and emotive as on record. Jamie Smith, manning a drum machine, samplers, and the occasional live percussion seems to have picked up the slack after Qureshi’s exit, especially when dropping the otherworldly bass sounds of songs like “Fantasy.”

If not immediately engaged, the sold-out crowd was won over by the time Croft plucked the opening riff of the surprisingly danceable single “Crystalised,” and remained enraptured until the call-and-response crescendo that ended the set on “Stars,” a song that finds the band at its most Chris Isaac-like sound. Here’s hoping the band can survive the further strain that is all but assured as more people hear the record. This is the rare next-big-thing that doesn’t rely on gimmicks, parlaying a high Pitchfork score into no more than hipster namedroppings. If they can survive this rough patch intact, I’ll be front and center when they play the 9:30 Club in April, a venue where their tour bus, buzz, and crowd will all be in sync with their talent.

Brand New @ Sonar, 11/11/09

It is rare that a rock band transcends the musical subculture from which it spawned, simultaneously surpassing its peers and expanding its musical scope. Most acts ride the wave of a certain sound, tying their success to the ebb and flow of ephemeral interests. This is not the case with Brand New, the Long Island band that has risen like a phoenix from the ashes of the early-aughts emo scene a stronger, more complete band.

Brand New, joined by melodic hardcore acts Crime in Stereo and Thrice, took the stage at Sonar in Baltimore on Wednesday night. The rain soaked, capacity crowd ranged from veterans like myself (first saw Brand New back in 2003) to a new generation of kids with X'ed out hands and body modification.

Since their 2001 debut, Your Favorite Weapon, Brand New has crafted increasingly complex songs, fusing their early pop-punk-emo with elements of acoustic singer-songwriter, prog rock, and post-hardcore music. The compositions require, at times, three guitars, a bass, two drummers, and two vocalists, allowing the band focus on elements lost in the mix and giving older songs a denser sound. Jesse Lacey, lead singer and guitarist, varies the vocals enough to frustrate the sing-along crowd, while adding a new level of screaming that makes you wonder how many more go-rounds the band has.

Lacey has always had a strained relationship with certain elements of his fan base. He’s well aware that his scraggily good looks bring out the teeny-boppers, and this (unwanted?) attention has been a frequent subject of his lyrics; on Deja Entendu’s “I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light,” he muses: “Watch me as I cut myself wide open on this stage / Yes, I am paid to spill my guts ... Oh, I would kill for the Atlantic / but I am paid to make girls panic while I sing.”

This tongue-in-cheek, finger-in-eye understanding of the audience manifests itself in the song selection, as the band moves between the pop-punk of their debut album, to the macabre melodies of Deja Entendu, through the layered, bordering-on-progressive jams of The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me, ending up in the raucous screeching of their newest effort, Daisy. “I am not your friend / I am just a man who knows how to feel / I'm not your friend / I'm not your lover / I'm not your family,” he belts on “Sowing Season;” Brand New does this for them, and if you happen to share in the catharsis, good for you.

Which doesn’t mean the show was without a fair share of fan service. Breakthrough emo anthem “Jude Law and a Semester Abroad” has returned to setlist after several years in exile. And a bit of a Nirvana medley, along with some sarcastic banter, demonstrated the band’s sense of humor for an appreciative audience.

The highlight of the set was Lacey’s solo interpretation of “Limousine,” only joined by the band for the finale: the crashing, vibrato-heavy outro. The song, based on the real life tragedy of Katie Flynn, takes on a new poignancy and emotional depth; unfortunately, this was lost on members of the audience who kept shouting for “Moshi Moshi” (the emo-punk equivalent of “Free Bird,” I suppose).

Which is basically the main problem facing Brand New: if they have moved beyond the easy accessibility of Your Favorite Weapon, why can’t they move beyond the fans of that album? Instead of growing with them, the audience is perpetually 18 years old, a tiresome fact for a band that has done all it can to move in new musical directions. The irony of their name has come full circle, as a crowd that has come to see Brand New isn’t ready for something that is just that.

Nicole Atkins @ the Rock N Roll Hotel, 11/6/09

I am a believer in the restorative powers of a good rock show. Most nights, some combination of DJ, MC, and whatever samplers or instruments are lying around will suffice, as the pulsing rhythms of electronic music or the flow of a skilled rapper gets a party going. But sometimes, what you really need is the catharsis only provided by tried-and-true rock and roll, a genre that has been declared dead (and subsequently revived) more than hip-hop.

Such was the case this Friday, as Nicole Atkins descended on the Rock N Roll Hotel, headlining a bill of straight-up rock music. Opening the night was Foley, a New York based singer-songwriter who treated the audience to some bluesy coffeehouse rock, including a pleasant cover of the Beatles’ “Something in the Way.” The simplicity of a man and his guitar set the tone for the rest of the show. Scott Liss and the Sixty-Six continued the festivities, engaging the crowd with some psychedelic folk rock, showing the DC audience what’s brewing in the Asbury Park scene.

Of the openers, the standout band was definitely The Hymns. Opening their set without fanfare, they launched right into some jangly, psychedelic rock, with front man Brian Hardings’s vocals drenched in reverb. This decade has been overrun with bands that are determined to re-visit the Beatles in increasingly tiresome ways. The Hymns, however, look instead to the Rolling Stones, mimicking the raw, rollicking sound of the anti-Beatles. At times, the Brooklyn four-piece also owes a lot to the Eagles and the Band, relying on dual riffage and harmonies that evoke a simpler age of rock music. Their set was a slice of Southern-fried blues rock (not surprising, considering their North Carolina and Texas roots), aesthetically and sonically reminiscent of the Kings of Leon, before their GQ makeover and Top 40 success.

As Krisma’s “Black Silk Stocking” played overhead, Nicole Atkins and the Black Sea took the stage. Bathed in thick smoke and green and purple lighting, the ambience was perfect for an evening of “noir pop,” the descriptor that the Jersey-based songstress has given to her melancholy, orchestral stylings.

As a front woman, Atkins is unparalleled in engaging the crowd. She’s a singular force on stage, making every single person feel like she’s singing directly to and only for them. With new backing back The Black Sea, Atkins played a set that introduced the audience to the songs that will appear on the follow-up to her breakout album, 2007's Neptune City, while hitting the highlights of her early work.

From the walking bassline of “Kill the Headlights” to the Queenesque sing-along “Brooklyn’s On Fire,” the songs of Neptune City take on a new dimension in a live setting. The spaced out riffs are pitch perfect, bending and pulling directly on your heartstrings. Atkins’ voice, a sultry mix of Patsy Cline and Jenny Lewis, is seductive yet vulnerable throughout. New songs like “Civil War” and “Cry Cry Cry” are thematically consistent with her discography, retelling tales of failed relationships and broken hearts in the language of soulful pop songs, equal parts Motown and Nashville.

On “Maybe Tonight,” Atkins sings, “Search the dial for what I need to know / They don't play those songs on my radio,” which perfectly encapsulates the plight of modern rock music. If you have two ears and a soul, Nicole Atkins should be on your radio.

Afro-Punk @ The Black Cat, 11/1/09

Dear audience of last night’s Afro-punk concert:

What the fuck? Was it too much Halloween revelry? A case of pre-Monday-morning depression? I mean, I’m plenty acquainted with apathetic DC crowds, barely swaying and head nodding to the music. And while that might suffice for Pitchfork Flavor of the Week indie bands, it is simply not acceptable for Saul Williams. This is revolution music, the soundtrack for tearing down repressive social structures and demolishing the status quo. Is it too much to ask that you move a little? Maybe I’m in the minority, but this type of performance elicits a visceral, corporeal reaction. So be forewarned, you cede the privilege of an up-close view when you fail to interact: I’m bum rushing the stage, so get out the way. But you’re not here for a rant; you probably want to know about the show. So, without further ado…

On Sunday night, the Black Cat hosted the Afro-Punk tour. But Afro-Punk is more than just a tour, it’s a movement. From their 2003 documentary of the same name, to a five-year strong festival in Brooklyn, Matthew Morgan and James Spooner have been tireless advocates for urban alternative culture, be it music, film, or extreme sport. A 19-date tour that brings some of the subculture’s finest performers across the continent was the next logical step.

Opening the night’s festivities were the Smyrk, whose straight-ahead rock sound is infused with R&B, thanks to the powerful lead vocals of Doron Monk Flake. The band reminds me of a more radio-friendly Sevendust, especially on stand-out song “The End of Jason Todd” (yes kids, that is a comic book reference), which combines grinding riffs with Flake’s soaring vocals. The Smyrk gives me hope for mainstream rock music, a genre that has fallen on tough times.

Next up were Krak Attack, the combination of multi-instrumentalist CX Kidtronik and Tchaka Diallo. CX is an Afro-punk trailblazer who has been pushing the envelope since the 80s, influencing Atlanta artists like Lil’ Jon and Andre 3000 and collaborating with Saul Williams. Krak Attack is pure crunk rock, as CX assaults his MPC and Tchaka engages the crowd and tries to get girls on stage. Unfortunately, Black Cat security was having none of it, so the party didn’t really get off the ground. Their performance is sonically and visually abrasive, but in the right setting, it could be a lot of fun.

Following Krak Attack’s short set, the stage was prepared for true legends Living Colour. Despite some technical difficulties and an audience born mostly after the band was formed, the reaction to the funk-metal pioneers was largely positive. From the historic opening riff of “Cult of Personality” to the breakdown of “Type,” Living Colour captivated the crowd with their unrivaled musical talents. After a set that included classics and a handful of new material, it was clear that Living Colour were the first and most influential Afro-punks.

After the impressive range of openers, and with Betty Davis on the sound system, it was time for the headliner: Saul Williams, in full Niggy Tardust makeup and costume. Joined on stage by a backing band that included CX Kidtronik (and his daughter Saturn at various points), Saul was on-point, dropping the free verse poetry that he built his reputation with, and nailing songs from throughout his discography. The beats were familiar, but tweaked and manipulated by CX, giving old favorites dubstep and drum-and-bass makeovers.

At one point, Saul mused that he had more energy than the crowd. “Isn’t DC where some great punk rock came from? I thought you’d be more… aggro!” The first several rows got into it, but that was about it (hence my rant), but this didn’t deter him from further interaction. After performing “NiggyTardust,” Saul spoke about how we deal with (or rather, fail to deal with) race continues to hold everyone back: our concept of “the other” is false, and we need the pendulum to swing back to center, between the extremes of race consciousness.

For the crowd, it was a poignant message that did not fall on deaf ears. This is what Afro-Punk is all about: fostering the development of a culture that lies outside the norm, letting kids who were told they weren’t “black enough” be themselves. The audience also included plenty of white kids who were told to “stop acting black,” so the point stands: the “other” is a lie.

Saul Williams setlist:
Break (intro only)
Convict Colony
Grippo
Tr(n)igger
Black Stacey
Declare Independence (Bjork cover)
Gunshots by computer
Surrender
(New song)
Skin of a drum
Sunday Bloody Sunday (U2 cover)
NiggyTardust
Scared money
List of demands

The Foreign Exchange @ Black Cat, 10/25/09

The Foreign Exchange is the Postal Service of soul music: an up-and-coming producer joins a lead vocalist on a side project that is completed in true 21st century fashion, without sitting down in a studio to collaborate. Both projects have spawned albums that are modern classics. Both even chose tongue-in-cheek monikers that allude to the manner of their genesis. But while Ben Gibbard and Jimmy Tamborello are on hiatus, the pairing of Phonte and Nicolay is going strong.

Last Sunday, the Foreign Exchange family brought their transcontinental soul sound to a packed house at the Black Cat. Many live performers, especially in support of albums with a host of guests, suffer when they try to recreate the record, sans featured players. The Foreign Exchange is having none of it, bringing vocalists YahZarah, Darien Brockington, and Carlita Durand and backing three-piece Zo! and the Els along for the ride. And not just any ride, but a singular experience: part concert, part musical therapy, part church revival, all designed to make the audience - as the album instructs - leave it all behind.

From the time the eight performers take the stage, the women in jaw-dropping ensembles and the men in their Sunday best, one thing is clear: Phonte is an MC in the purest sense. It’s his world, and the audience is just living in it. Due to his work as part of Little Brother, his rap skills have never been in question, and his singing voice, prominently featured on Leave It All Behind, is more than capable. But what really impressed was his ability to orchestrate the concert, unafraid to step back and shine the spotlight on someone else in service of song and show. Totally at ease on the mic, Phonte freely mixes stand-up comedy and relationship advice; the crowd could share a laugh or an “Amen!” in between bouts of musical rapture.

Leave It All Behind is a melancholy album, perfect for contemplating relationships during the fall rain. Nicolay’s beats are more trip-hop than hip-hop, taking a backseat to round basslines, jazzy piano melodies, and swelling synths. Live, the songs take on a whole new dimension, as the locked-in rhythms, four-part harmonies, and dueling keyboards wash over the audience. The music is full and powerful without losing the poignancy or complexity of the album – no small feat.

Phonte’s workmanlike vocals are a thread throughout the evening, but YahZarah “the Man-eater” and Darien “Panty Dropper” Brockington live up to their Phonte-bestowed nicknames, treating the audience to smooth, sexy lead vocals. Carlita Durand wasn’t given the opportunity to stand-out, but four voices are better than three here. And the band members are true professionals, keeping the groove going during Phonte’s “Top 7 ‘Give Me Your Love’ Countdown” (his elaborate introductions of the performers) and effortlessly shifting between R&B and bossa nova styles throughout the set.

Like the best front men, Phonte is fearless on stage, doing his best Bobby Brown on a cover of “My Prerogative,” reading a grocery list as a mid-90s reggae toaster, and rocking a radio rap medley in neo-soul style. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard “Turn My Swag On,” “Make Tha Trap Say Aye,” “Stanky Leg,” and “LOL Smiley Face,” as performed by the Foreign Exchange. His banter rivaled anything from last weekend’s Bentzen Ball, especially his explanation of how the refrain of “I Wanna Know” (“Okay!”) can save a relationship.

For two hours, Preacher Phonte led his flock of Foreign Exchange fans through the valley for an evening intended to rejuvenate, whether by singing, dancing, laughing, or crying. If you haven’t seen Foreign Exchange live, do your soul the favor.

HARD NYC @ Terminal 5, 10/10/09

(Check out more Hard NYC photos by Nicky Digital. Flashing Lights photo courtesy of the HiFi Cartel)

Sometimes a show promises to be such a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I motivate myself to board a discount bus to New York City and hope there will be a couch to crash on at the end of the night. Last Saturday was such an occasion, as Hard NYC rolled into New York’s Terminal 5, bringing leading electronic artists Destructo, Jack Beats, Rusko, Major Lazer, and Crookers to the Hell’s Kitchen club. After a rumored show with a similar line-up failed to materialize at the 9:30 Club, this show was a no-brainer.

For the uninitiated, Terminal 5 is a warehouse club similar to 9:30, with larger balconies, another story, and a capacity of around 3,000. For the club to be half-full shortly after Destructo opened the night’s festivities was pretty impressive. Destructo, aka Gary Richards, Hard Fest’s organizer, DJed a pretty straight-forward mix of club, house, and electro tracks, but the crystal clear sound system and psychedelic visuals foreshadowed the aural and visual extravaganza that would follow.

If the occasional hip-hop show can make it feel like 1990, certain electronic shows can make it feel like 1995. The show was an 18 and over affair, but the X'ed out hands probably outnumbered those nursing Red Bulls and vodkas. For a crowd whose only rave experience is probably Netflixing Go, these party kids have the culture down to a T. There were more pacifiers than you could shake a glowstick at, although gloves with Lite Brites on the fingertips were also drawing crowds of glassed-over eyes. They might have been too high to spell “MDMA,” but they have good taste in music and they came to party.

Each act was allotted about an hour, and they stayed remarkably close to that, with seamless transitions between sets. After Destructo, British duo Jack Beats took the stage and brought a serious set of new wave house edits that the crowd ate up like so many colorful pills. They remixed hipster favorites from Passion Pit and Yeah Yeah Yeahs into electro bangers, and even dropped Nadastrom’s remix of A Milli. While a good number of people in the crowd recognized the latter track, I’m sure Google searches for “a milli remix, slowed down, crunk as hell” had an uptick after the show. Jack Beats’ fusion of electronic styles and populist playlist surely gained new fans for the newest member of the Cheap Thrills crew.

Next up was one of the main reasons I ventured to NY: dubstep superstar Rusko, whose remix of Kid Sister’s “Pro Nails” was one of the hottest tracks of 2008. Want to replicate Rusko’s set at home? It’s simple! Throw on his mix for Mishka’s Keep Watch series (of which he played nearly all the tracks), turn off the lights, and crank the bass on your sound system until your neighbors call the cops, your heartbeat goes irregular, and your face melts off. Rusko’s wonky, wobbly tunes had an intensity that you don’t usually get from dance music. The crowd definitely appreciated the slowed down, bass-heavy set, and didn’t need any encouragement from Rusko’s hype man, who proved to be an unnecessary distraction. The 23-year old York-born DJ has energized the dubstep scene with partner-in-crime Caspa, and he’s a must-see for dance fans when he ventures into the US.

While the price of admission was covered after the first three sets, the night was just beginning. Next up was Diplo, performing as Major Lazer, his cartoon-themed dancehall project with Switch (who was predictably absent). The Mad Decent head honcho, in a simple black suit, proceeded to redefine what a DJ show can be with help from a few of his friends. Skerrit Bwoy, equal parts dancer, MC, and hype man, put on a daggering clinic that included ladders, speakers, and the girls from the “Pon de Floor” video, a performance which would probably be illegal in most states. Between the dance antics onstage and the tripped-out visuals behind the booth, Diplo managed to recreate the Major Lazer album in three dimensions. Also joining him were guests from the album: Mr. Lexx, Nina Sky, Ricky Blaze, and indie it-girl Santigold. While the twisted dancehall of “Pon de Floor” and Hold the Line” were on every DJ’s playlist this summer, the biggest hit from the album may be cross-over surprise “Keep it Goin’ Louder,” which proves Diplo and Switch can produce just about anything better than most.


Crookers, the Italian Stallions of electronic music, had the unenviable position of following Diplo and the gang, and no matter how hard they cranked it, they couldn’t recapture the energy the crowd had during the preceding set. If Diplo/Major Lazer had headlined, I’m sure their set would have been better received. With a full length expected later this year, Crookers are still in the running to be the next European dance duo to break through, a la Daft Punk and Justice; their remix of Kid Cudi’s “Day n Nite” is the definitive version of the song, and it’s still heating up dance floors nearly two years after its initial release. Their current single, “Put Your Hand On Me,” featuring Kardinal Offishall and Carlie Marie, has the potential to do the same thing. That is, if the video doesn’t turn too many people off (spoilers ruin it, so if you haven’t seen it, give it a shot… and then surprise your friends).

After the show, I ventured downtown for something that only happens in New York: a team of top DJs turn a dim sum restaurant into a late-night club. For the one year anniversary of Flashing Lights, the monthly party thrown by top selectors DJ Ayres, Nick Catchdubs, and Jubilee, the special guest was Sheffield DJ Toddla T, who brought a mix of hip-hop and reggae to the smoky, crowded dance floor. And if dominating one show wasn’t enough, Diplo even crashed the party. It was the kind of night that reminds me why I occasionally subject myself to 10 hours on a Megabus.