The Sun's Anvil

Fewer Moving Parts - David Bazan

2007-09-12T20:33:00.001-05:00

"I still run the show / Don't you forget it"

“Do not fear mistakes. There are none.” - Miles Davis

The opening lyrics of David Bazan’s Fewer Moving Parts explode out of incendiary drum fills, bursting like snare grenades. Such is the character of Bazan, who wields an axe on the cover and makes kindling of the last tall tree in the forest inside the liner notes. Bazan the woodsman, cutting down critics and the self-righteous along with friends and fans with preconceptions. This is David Bazan, 31 year old solo musician, and damn the regrets. He ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.

With fewer moving parts come fewer broken pieces, Bazan assures us, and to reassure, and reiterate, each track on the 2006 EP comes with its own acoustic doppelganger. Though this technique usually seems like insulation, these rough B-sides refuse to be stolid, and instead flip a backlight on their slicker electric counterparts, revealing the snakes and spider’s nests within.

What to do with this? How to critique a record that castrates criticism in its first acrid stanzas: "You're so creative / With your reviews / Of what other people do / How satisfying that must be for you"?

It's disturbing. Lyrics like “Every time I find a girl beaten, gagged and bound / I let her go and write it down / That’s how I remember” are cold punches. They cut out your senses and leave you winded, grasping for your bearings. Upon examination, however, they are elusive - there was impact, but where is the wound? Why is the destruction of five or six “innocent” automobiles in “Cold Beer and Cigarettes” so heartbreaking?

Perhaps it’s Bazan’s inimitable sense of meter - Bazan writes like Keith Moon drums, recklessly in control, leaping measure to perilous measure, punctuating with blinding little miracles like “Cold Beer”’s “What a cruel God we’ve got / Right on.”

Maybe, rather, Bazan has played a trick on himself. Vowing to work harder to compensate for perceived lack of talent at the outset of his career, Bazan has labored over a decade to reach this album's caliber of songwriting. The end result is a bold, cold little handful of rock diatribes and their acoustic counterparts that, really, does not impress with any great wordsmithing (aside from "hatriots" - fantastic) or heavy-handed aphorisms declaring the Nature of Things.

Thank God.

“David Byrne on Bob Costas put it pretty well, but I put it better.”

A David Bazan song, that oddity among musical oddities, rarely ends without a single-word punch, such as the "away" that sealed up 2004’s Achilles Heel. The endless, heartrending coda to the Beatles’ “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” is evident in the outro to “Backwoods Nation,” as though Bazan bears the same pain of longing for a nation that doesn’t exist anymore, or, perhaps, gut remorse at the epiphany that it never has.

Do not listen to this album on an empty stomach. This album generates the same feeling as mild electrocution, picking up a frayed cord in a puddle of water, the hot fire preceding cold paralysis, the feeling of terrible surprise, electricity coursing through the fingers, up the arm, and into the spinal cord.

Out From a Cloud

2007-09-12T19:57:00.000-05:00

All apologies. After a brief respite behind a passing cloud, the sun's come out again. Thanks to Nic Dillon for speeding the end of such a meteorological anomaly.

Pygmalion arrives sooner than later, marked by giddy anticipation. Though further promotion of this monster seems redundant, like throwing ketchup at a Jackson Pollack, its momentum is nonetheless irresistible.

Now, throw ?uestlove on the fire. Yes, spellcheck, you heard right. Ever since James Brown's been funkifying heaven, the rock-solid Roots drummer has claimed the title of "Hardest Working Man in Show Business." Debatable, but: Most Intriguing - closer to the mark. Just rummaging through his MySpace page is an afternoon's diversion.

The Pygmalion Music Festival Pass will get you into the Andrew Bird show, as well as universal access to the myriad other sensational bands rounding out the bill. Order here for an absolute steal at $45.

Or, the Whale - Light Poles and Pines

2007-08-29T20:22:00.001-05:00

I’m just twenty-four and I’m weighing my worth / But I’ll soon be twenty-five / Just bury me alive

San Fransisco septet Or, the Whale are at the beginning. The past behind, the future ahead - the way unmarked and unworn. Anyone’s history to claim as their own.

Between the senselessness of childhood and the sedentation of middle age lies the twenties, a curious stage of life where former obligations become irrelevant and an open prairie of possibility stretches out before the eye. Some are paralyzed by this expanse; Or, the Whale sets out, knapsacks at hand, heavy-laden but light-footed.

There are moments on Light Poles and Pines where these Californian twenty-somethings grasp longingly, heartbreakingly at the mythical promise of home. Indeed, this motif prevails throughout, from the exiled souls returning to New Orleans in the blustery opener “Call and Response” to the country swinger “Fixin’ to Leave” to the dim conclusion of the B-side in “Prayer for the Road” and the stiff-upper-lip benediction “Fight Song.” Everyone is packing up and leaving in the morning for the Promised Land.

This is a full album, heavy with thought, buoyed by earnest enthusiasm; an old fashioned LP, with weepers, potboilers and toss-aways, hand-lettered and home-made. The liner notes tell us that “Jonah Rust played saw on track two.” One of the later tracks is obviously an unedited demo, and why not? This is country cooking; everything goes in the pot.

Consequently, this is a sloppy brew. The mix is blurry and bottom heavy, washing out the highs on critical tracks like the lead-off as well as “Threads” and “Crack a Smile.” Along with the absence of lyrics in the liner notes, some of the decade’s best lyricism is swallowed in a mire of bass guitar, keyboard, and a relentless pedal steel.

The times that Or, the Whale shine through their country rust are the times they shine the brightest. For a band as musically cohesive and with this caliber of songwriters to be weighted with a sense of obligation to its adopted aesthetic would be tragic. But Light Poles and Pines is a bold resolution, a blood pact. They won’t buckle when the winds change. These wayfarers are as straight as the noonday sun, and the whole afternoon is for traveling.

Or, the Whale

2007-08-21T17:55:00.001-05:00

A steamy, late August night provided the atmosphere Monday for the arrival of San Fransisco's Or, the Whale at Cowboy Monkey in Champaign. Six members full, knockout musicians all, the group executed a rollicking, relentless set as impressively smooth as it was tight. This is a battle-hardened band, having logged months on the road buffing their rough 'n' ready roots rock into a glassy diamond.

The band began by blessing their 45-minute set with a lovely 5-part a cappella piece that highlighted the vibrant musical unity possessed of singer Lindsay Garfield, guitarist Matt Sartain, guitarist Alex Robins, keyboardist Julie Ann Thomasson, and bassist Justin Fantl. Launching flawlessly into a full-volume opening number, even the San Fransiscans themselves seemed overwhelmed with their sound. (Credit is due to the staff of Cowboy Monkey for, per usual, maintaining a very high standard of sound quality for bands; it is consistently labeled the favorite venue among local artists in this respect.) Despite the initial rush of energy, Or, the Whale never seemed to collapse under its own sound nor break free from the foundation; praise belongs to drummer Jesse Hunt, a no-frills, traditional back-beater who put fills in the right places but mostly held back, holding the other five aloft to explore the endless dynamic divergences in their sound. Hunt ably transitioned the band fluidly from folky 2/4s to straight rockers to a bit of funk and back again, proving that a band of any size, style or volume can be held together by a good drummer.

Elsewhere, the aforementioned vocal harmonies shone, and Fantl provided a sturdy, if stoic, foundation to Robins' and Sartains' guitars. Robins himself proved a dynamic frontman, sharing a visual chemistry with singer/percussionist Garfield, who in turn proved the sextet to be endlessly engrossing, if at the very least for the parade of odd percussion toys brought on stage (The Sun's Anvil thanks Zach Grant for correctly identifying the frog croaker).

The set never lagged nor went astray, excepting perhaps a forgivable last-minute extension of a few minutes, which was played for laughs and remained lively before the band closed with a boot-stomping rendition of their Light Poles and Pines hit, "Call and Response."

Monday night opened with Ryan Groff performing cuts from his solo album, People in the Midwest. Though working through a deeply melancholy set (including a pristine but morose "Cannonballs"), Groff successfully silenced a chatty crowd, creating several pin-drop moments, particularly in a fine rendition of "Lines." With performances like these, Groff continues to prove he's not long for the local bar-and-basement circuit.

Elsinore

2007-08-20T17:36:00.000-05:00

Very few bands ever attempt a cover of "Bohemian Rhapsody." On tribute albums or shows, such as the 1992 Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert, the six-minute masterpiece of modern recording is almost always broken up into more manageable parts. In fact, Queen themselves didn't do a full live version - they cut out and let the album version play during the 'opera' segment at live performances. For a Podunk local band, then, to tackle the multi-tracked, multi-octaved monster without tempting the word 'karaoke,' takes, well, balls.

Consider, then, Elsinore.

Novelties aside, this Champaign (formerly Charleston) foursome have put their time in and emerged as leaders in the local music scene. From the momentum of being named "Best Live Band" at the 2006 Local Music Awards and a solid 2006 LP, Nothing For Design, Elsinore has gained traction and begun to branch outside the Illinois border.

Consequently, the band is evolving. With the recent release of lead singer/guitarist Ryan Groff's solo album, the future of Elsinore remains elusive. At Pygmalion, Groff will perform both with his band and as a solo artist, begging the question of which act will be better greeted by venue-hopping Pygmalionians.

In Groff's ever-lengthening shadow stand the very capable pianist Mark Woolwide; the deft, dextrous bassist Chris Eitel, and unique percussionist Dave Pride, noted live for a concocted kit of hand drums and other trinkets. All three back up Groff's lead vocals as well, a modern oddity that grants them a dynamic edge live.

Elsinore has fairly successfully crested the wave of hip alt-country and Americana. With the movement's tidal popularity waxing, the future demands that neo-folkies prove their footing and test their staying power. The success of the great artists requires a certain timelessness that defies trendiness. Like the crowd-pleasing Queen-cover-band Elsinore in Charleston, the Elsinore of Champaign and beyond will need to satisfy a crowd up to its fingers in folk.

Elsinore will be playing at the third annual Pygmalion Music Festival from September 20th to the 22nd in Champaign-Urbana.

Death Ships

2007-08-17T13:19:00.001-05:00

A quick perusal of Death Ships' show history betrays the dirty little secret that modesty prohibits: these guys are a very hard-working band. After a 2006 that saw the boys opening for Low and serving as Jay Bennett's backing band for a West Coast tour (and who is ostensibly producing their next album), the Ships have put in time every month on the road in support of Seeds of Devastation.

On August 14th, they played a throwaway show at the Canopy Club in Urbana, coming off a week-long, dog-days-of-summer tour through the Midwest. With no more than ten people in attendance, lead guitarist Dan Maloney, bassist Randall Davis and drummer Matt Winegardner, accompanied by Ryan Groff sitting in on keyboard, put on a compelling and energetic show. Through the half-hour set, Ellis and Winegardner layed down a smooth, solid rhythm under Maloney's clean and tasteful guitar work. As well, the transitions were tight and the set never dragged. This band has proven the talent and the gumption to stand shoulders, if only in spirit and not in venue, next to the headliners at Pygmalion.

The Iowa City band with the deceptively intimidating name will be playing September 21st at Mike N Molly's in Champaign as part of the 2007 Pygmalion Music Festival. You can have a gander at their Myspace page, too.

Correction: Thanks to Mike Ingram for pointing out that it was Randall Davis, not Chris Ellis on bass at this show.

Pygmalion

2007-08-15T14:10:00.000-05:00

From September 19th through the 22nd, over 60 bands spanning the length and breadth of the Chambana music world as well as powerhouse nationals Andrew Bird, Denison Witmer, Owen, Okkervil River and the unstoppable Headlights (among others) converge under the Pygmalion Music Festival banner, Seth Fein's 3-years-running exposé of Champaign's musical talent.

Because much has been written and ruminated upon in the anticipation of headliners like Bird and Witmer, this blog will focus its lens on some of the less publicized, but equally worthy artists appearing at the festival.

Casados will not be featured for conflict of journalistic interests. But you should look into them anyway; they're a groovy band.

Ryan Groff - People in the Midwest

2007-08-13T22:49:00.000-05:00

People in the Midwest / have giant hearts inside their chests / landlocked by cash crops

So, Ryan Groff of the Midwestern United States begins his solo career, delivering a luminous ode to the humble people of the prairie. With twice the vocal range of Sufjan and a tenth of the instrumentation, Groff crafts a stunning debut, and that rarest record that could work without any accompaniment. Indeed, Groff's vocals are simply exhilarating; the Elsinore singer/guitarist glides effortlessly from tenor to falsetto with choirboy dexterity.

It is this elegant voice that both anchors and elevates its neofolk material, which isn't to say Groff lacks in songwriting. Quite the contrary. People in the Midwest is replete with character study, tastefully shown and not told. With deft lyricism, Groff skirts the yawning maw of melodrama that so easily swallows lesser folkies.

These songs are mostly interpersonal, eulogizing an ancestor on "Polly," or lamenting (rejoicing?) at the inadequacy of argument with a lover on the stellar "Lines."

However, "Haiti," the best track, lambastes American apathy toward Haitian poverty and mocks her self-righteous emotional posturing: "But send your love and seal it tight / they'll keep it out of sight / and if you can, they'd like some food and some money." Upon this foundation of bitterness and acidic, driving guitar, Groff's seraphic cries mount and take flight, leaving the petty ignorance and corruption below, soaring into a wistful coda, a wordless prayer.

People in the Midwest has charming moments, and then it has transcendent moments. It is a testament to Groff's skill as a vocalist that the minimalist folk songs do not collapse under pretension, and to his skill as a lyricist that they do not drift away with frivolity. Buy this record, and anticipate its follow-up.