Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged 'xxmerge'

September 27, 2009

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“Give It” – X-Press 2 with Kurt Wagner
(Words/music: Darren Morris, Kurt Wagner, X-Press 2, available on Makeshift Feelgood, Sony 2006)

Eventually, “Give It” blooms into a lively, pulsing dance with synthesized horns and a choir of backing vocals. At this point in the song, it becomes a digital gospel choir joining Kurt Wagner’s promise to be patient. However, the track must grow into this the same way that Wagner’s narrator must learn to be patient. At the beginning of the song, his narrator contemplates the future, eagerly seeking it out yet fearing the impending change. He realizes that the moment he’s experiencing will pass and has the instinctive impulse to capture this specific moment. It’s not quite that simple, as Wagner goes off in a couple tangents, but ultimately this crisis of “now versus then” comes to the forefront. Alternately put, it’s the decision to focus on enjoying a given moment or think about how the moment fits into the larger picture. In that sense, it’s a self-awareness of immediately recognizing a given moment as important and knowing that this recognition will change the moment in progress.

I’ve discussed and thought about this idea a good amount recently in a few different contexts, eventually leading back to the same conclusion and the same example. I’m way too inside my own head sometimes, and for all the positives that constant self-reflection brings, it makes it very hard to experience something and then “sort it out” later. I then think about the first time I heard this song – earlier this summer at the end of Lambchop’s set at the Merge Records anniversary shows. By this point in the set, Wagner and his dozen backing musicians won over the entire room, and Wagner’s impassioned “Give It / Once in a Lifetime” closing went to the next level. It was a rare moment where I knew what was unfolding – the event’s signature performance – yet I found myself able to silence that part of my brain and be stunned into silence. Soon afterward, I described it as “a surreal moment that ended a memorable set,” and a few months later I’m still thinking about it. Ironically, by not immediately processing this moment, I’ve been able to process it a dozen different ways. I’m still not sure I have a definitive answer, but I’m not sure that’s the point; Wagner’s protagonist turns off his meta-commentary and turns patience into a spiritual revival, and in a way I have too – albeit a series of minor personal revelations. By quieting my thoughts for a few minutes, I sewed seeds for an entire series of ponderings. In many ways, I’ll be chasing down that performance (or similar ones) for the rest of my life, and I’m only starting to realize that sometimes it’s worth letting it get a head start so that I can see where it leads me.

More on X-Press 2: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 28, 2009

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“Your Fucking Sunny Day” – Lambchop
(Words/music: Kurt Wagner, available on Thriller, Merge Records 1997)

This is the last in my series of posts about bands on Merge Records (thank you for indulging me) and I planned on yesterday’s being the final one, but I need to write about the single best moment of my week in Chapel Hill. I anticipated that Superchunk would be awesome and they didn’t disappoint. However, I was not expecting the best set of the week to come from Lambchop, the musical project of former floorer Kurt Wagner. Until I started receiving the SCORE boxset earlier this year, I couldn’t name a single Lambchop song. I soon fell for “Your Fucking Sunny Day” on Phil Morrison’s mix, at first because of the title and then because of its strangely addictive melody. It’s a difficult song to pin down – it’s kind of funky, kind of orchestrated. The most compelling part of the song, for me, is the way Kurt Wagner sings it – holding out certain phrases, letting some notes sneak out as a yelp, and still staying faithful to the melody the entire time. In three and a half minutes, Wagner gave a sense that his personality ran deeper than the cursing in his song titles and the humor mentioned in every synopsis I read after listening to this song.

None of this, however, prepared me for what I saw last Friday night at Merge’s anniversary show. Wagner came on stage backed by ten musicians (which I’m told is half as many as accompanied him at the Merge 15th anniversary) and played a 40 minute set that left half of the crowd a dancing mess and the other half petrified in awe. I expected Wagner’s songs to shuffle from genre to genre, but I didn’t expect every different style to have such life and enthusiasm. The slow songs sounded gorgeous (and, when I could make out the words, melancholy and heartbreaking), and the lively songs swung like a jazz trio after weeks of rehearsals. Over a forty five minute set, Wagner and his band made us laugh, tugged at our heartstrings, and made jaws hit the floor. Appropriately, Lambchop garnered the loudest, most enthusiastic ovation to end their set of the week, with Wagner beaming beneath his thick frames and trucker hat. I’m convinced that the people in the audience had no clue what was coming when Lambchop was introduced. By the end of the set, Wagner leaped out of his seat when shouting out the lyrics to the Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime,” seeming like a man speaking in tongues (and, appropriately, one-upping David Byrne’s evangelical preacher performance in the music video). It was a surreal moment that ended a memorable set – one that melted even the most cynical of hearts. I’ve been surprised by shows before and naively thought that it couldn’t happen again – not with the free flow of information and the ease of acquiring music on the internet. I was wrong, and went home ready to explore Wagner’s catalog. I’m excited to digest his albums and, perhaps, be surprised again. Still, I’m not sure any record can duplicate what I experienced in person last Friday.

More on Lambchop: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 27, 2009

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“This is Not a Test” - She & Him
(Words/music: Zooey Deschanel, available on Volume One, Merge Records 2008)

On Murmur, R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe sang the line, “not everyone can carry the weight of the world,” and this line popped into my head when trying to think about songs like “This is Not a Test.” Sometimes, we equate weightiness with quality – if it’s not deep, it’s not worth it, and there’s something to be said about art that works in layers and tackles difficult topics. This completely marginalizes music that’s breezy and fun – these types of songs aren’t meant to trigger an existential crisis, but instead these songs are designed with enjoyment in mind. We feel at ease when we hear a light hearted pop song, and it’s a way for us to connect emotionally to the things in our lives that make us happy – a vacation with a loved one, a childhood memory, etc. These songs reflect another part of the human existence that often escapes the critical eye, and even if it’s only fleeting, these songs lighten our spirits and brighten our days.

“This is Not a Test” reaches back to 1960s pop music and evokes the same kind of light-hearted mood in its listeners. The guitar chords are bright and cut right to the forefront, the backing vocals make it seem like a campfire sing-a-long, and the kazoo interlude shows how Deschanel and M. Ward aren’t taking themselves too seriously on this one. Deschanel’s voice suits this type of arrangement – she has a flimsy voice with a slight country inflection, but on a track like this she sounds sweet. Most importantly, Ward and Deschanel understand their purpose. They’re not out to make the lost Bob Dylan album from the ’60s – they’ve set out to make a throwback pop record. When she tries to tackle soul songs out of her league, Deschanel sounds overwhelmed on Volume One, but she sounds right at home when the mood lightens up.

While Ward and Deschanel understood their role on record, their live performance closing out the XX Merge anniversary festival missed the mark. Deschanel, who spent most of her time on stage bouncing like a five year-old and making painfully awkward stage banter, was backed (with a couple additions) by members of M. Ward’s band. The previous night, Ward and his band played a blistering set of his blues-folk hybrid, showcasing the musicianship of every member of his band. Unfortunately, they tried to play all of Deschanel’s songs the same way and Deschanel was unable to command the presence – either vocally or with her body language – appropriate for such a forceful performance. As a result, Deschanel sounded amateurish and skittish. While the album plays to her vocal strengths, the live performance exposed all of her weaknesses. Watching Ward’s band play these songs was like watching an elephant gun shoot out nerf balls, resulting in an underwhelming performance. Worst of all, the band attempted to turn “This is Not a Test” into a rollicking dance number. It sounded like a karaoke version of the song, completely drained of the spirit that makes it enjoyable on record. It was a rare disappointment in an otherwise impressive string of shows.

More on She and Him: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 26, 2009

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“Plenty is Never Enough” - Tenement Halls
(Words/music: Chris Lopez, available on Knitting Needles and Bicycle Bells, Merge Records 2005)

Moderation makes practical sense but far too often remains an ideal. We understand the concept of it intellectually at least, but it’s also hard to shake that base instinct that suggests that more of a good thing will be even better. The past few days at XX Merge have been an exercise in excess. I’ve felt inundated with great music yet feel like I’ve had too much of a good thing. I’ve seen a lot of excellent sets over the past four nights but can’t help feeling that I might have enjoyed some of the bands more if there weren’t as many of them. Some bands were excellent (Superchunk and Lambchop among others), but I found myself thinking on a few occasions that I might have enjoyed some of the other bands if it weren’t for seven hours of standing in a room being blasted with loud sounds night after night. It came to a point where I had to give up on some bands – either sitting down in the back room, wandering outside, or going home to get some rest – in order to have energy for the rest of the week.

Tenement Halls, the new band from the Rock*a*Teens’ Chris Lopez, became one of these casualties. They played an outdoor show in the 97 degree North Carolina heat that was in addition to the seven hours later that night. As much as I wanted to see them (and Portastatic), cooler heads prevaled. I couldn’t help but think about his song “Plenty is Never Enough” while mulling through the merits of a full day of music and fatigure or trying to enjoy just a few of the bands in the lineup. “Plenty is Never Enough” is an upbeat pop song draped in a curtain of reverb and slight delay. It’s peppy, bouncy, and a little blurry – the perfect musical metaphor for the week itself. I know I would have loved hearing this if it was a single night out where I could drain all of my energy bouncing along. Instead, it became a casualty in the quest to survive to the end. At a point, there can be too much of a good thing, and I’m glad XX Merge gave me the opportunity to fill up on great music – I’ve just realized the diference between filling up and consuming everything. I’m also glad tonight’s show has seats!

More on Tennement Halls: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 25, 2009

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“Everything Hits at Once” - Spoon
(Words/music: Britt Daniel, available on Girls Can Tell, Merge Records 2001)

More than any other band on Merge’s roster (and most bands in rock music right now), Spoon plays tight rock and roll. They grab hold of every melodic and rhythmic thread and pull them to their most taut, and just like a drum’s head stretched to its limit, interesting sounds develop right before the snapping point. Spoon’s songs never reach that breaking point, but these songs find their own funky reverberations even at their most precise extremes. Rather than sounding mechanical or soulless, their precise rhythms and studio tweaks infuse the song with an unlikely groove.

Even if they’re repetitive, it’s not repetition in the same way that trance music repeats phrases. “Everything Hits at Once” builds around a defined core. The guitars, keyboards, and drums establish a groove and keep returning to it over the course of the song. Meanwhile, the other elements of the song orbit around this center, periodically disappearing into the mix only to return again. Even Britt Daniel’s vocals work like this – rather than have a chorus as a celebratory refrain, Daniels’ repetition feels like a weary mind running through the same thought process. He promises that he can change his mind yet keeps returning to this one thought. Just like the music, Daniel feels trapped by the gravity of his situation. While it leads to paranoia for his protagonist, the listener enjoys a woosy groove and a catchy tune revolving around us.

More on Spoon: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 24, 2009

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“Art Class (Song for Yayoi Kusama)” – Superchunk
(Words/music: Superchunk, available on Here’s to Shutting Up, Merge Records 2001)

It took about three minutes for word to spread upon walking into the Cat’s Cradle last night. “Superchunk is closing tonight,” and with that a sudden burst of unexpected energy rode through my body. The rush of being hours away from seeing the band (I would have put good money on them playing on Saturday night) made everything a little sharper, even when sitting down with a beer. The Broken West’s power pop, Richard Buckner’s guitar explorations, Guv’ner’s muted trumpet, Versus’ heavy pop, and the 3Ds fuzzy melodies all helped build the anticipation for Merge’s flagship band. Superchunk came on at quarter of one but it might as well have felt like the middle of the afternoon.

Superchunk blew through a set of old favorites - “Precision Auto,” “Detroit Has a Skyline,” “Driveway to Driveway,” etc – and new singles “Crossed Wires” and “Learned to Surf” and sounded equally as ebbulent and muscular as in their heyday. Not surprisingly, nothing from Here’s to Shutting Up showed up in the setlist (although the keyboard was out for “Watery Hands”), widely considered Superchunk’s “mellow” album. It’s a shame, because some of that album’s best songs would have fit in well in the middle of the set. The upper-mid tempo “Art Class” would have dialed the energy back only half a notch and provided a perfect “why so serious” sing along in the crowd. In addition to fitting in with the rest of the setlist’s melodic assault, “Art Class” captures the spirit of the entire week-long celebration. “Life is the art that you make,” sings McCaughan as his band plays with the same intensity they’ve exhibited over the past two decades. Much has been said and written about Merge’s continued success and the role of a label run by musicians and fans, but Superchunk proved last night that they are far away from hanging up their guitars and solely concentrating on the label (I hope). If nothing else, they have plenty more art to make, and plenty more nights to make us pogo along.

More on Superchunk: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 23, 2009

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“Born on a Train” - The Magnetic Fields
(Words/music: Stephin Meritt, available on The Charm of the Highway Strip, Merge Records 1994)

Night one of XX Merge was a night largely built around intimacy. Ranging from Lou Barlow’s solo performance to the small choir of voices Oakley Hall assembled in their band to the Rosebuds’ coaxing of the crowd to accompany them, this opening night put “small” songs into the spotlight. Looking back, this was the perfect night for the Magnetic Fields’ performance as a quintet of strings, piano, and voice. In the past, some of Stephin Meritt’s aesthetic choices in his arrangements prevented me from delving deeper into his catalog. Sometimes, the synthesizers and drum machines work well, but often I find that they mask Meritt’s beautiful songs. Last night, Meritt and vocalists Claudia Gonson and Shirley Simms took center stage, letting Merritt’s eye for beauty and wry sense of humor shine in the spotlight. The crowd in the front of the Cat’s Cradle played right into their hands, laughing at the humor in “California Girls” and “Yeah, Oh Yeah,” and Meritt even smirked delivering the lines about living in a dive bar in “Papa Was a Rodeo.” Last night, the songs sounded like the precious creatures Meritt sculpted (the same ones that are sometimes hard to find underneath the synthesizers). In this setting, the songs felt fragile, beautiful, lonely, and heartbreaking – often in rapid succession and often simultaneously.

“Born on a Train,” a song that wasn’t performed last night, is one song that works with its electronic arrangements. Like most of Meritt’s best compositions, “Born on a Train” paints loneliness in a melancholy light, comparing emotional disconnect with the restlessness of perpetual travel. Musically, the song kind of feels like traveling on a train with the persistent percussion and the fast moving sounds around it. In this case, the synthesized sounds help make it sound like a chamber-pop composition. However, the synthesized sounds combined with the real strings give it a woosy, daydream feel. In this state, it’s hard to imagine what’s real and what’s a dream. It gives the narrative an interesting bend – does the narrator feel heartbroken or does he truly accept his wayward state? Then again, it could all be a dream – the narrator may be dreaming of having to leave a lover he’s never met as he’s roaming down another nighttime road that looks the same as all the others. If that’s the case, it’s an even more heartbreaking story of someone so lonely that they dream up people to miss.

More on The Magnetic Fields: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

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