Guys with Glasses Make Great Albums: This Year's Model

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Elvis Costello may be my favorite artist of all time - and if I'm speaking before I think here, I can assuredly say that he's certainly one of the most unrelentingly creative and diverse artists to ever press grooves into a vinyl record. Sure, after the Attractions went their separate ways the frist time, Elvis (real name Declan MacManus - why change it? Declan is a pussy-gettin'-wet name) hasn't been quite the same. No albums have been mind-blowing since the downhill solo adventure that started with 1989's Spike, but the first 12 years, and first 8 albums recorded therein are pure fucking gold.

My Aim is True, his debut (solo!) album was a revelation for me - hearfelt songs about mysterious loss, first times in the bedroom, getting old, and yes, facism! That album has everything, and it had every reason to make him an overnight sensation (it did.) But, ever the maverick, Costello put together a band, branded them The Attractions, and recorded his second full-length, which would become This Year's Model. The album contains just as much wonderful wordsmithery as his freshman release, but showcases a more confident, angrier, dare I say - punker Elvis. It's not punk strictly speaking, but as Elvis rants about how the radio industry is run by retards on "Radio Radio," one can't help but see why the Sex Pistols respected the bespectacled virtuoso. (Not to mention his history making SNL performance of the song, google it)

The record opens up with a bang on "No Action" and doesn't slow down at all until the final track, the "overly british" according to Columbia Records "Night Rally." This Year's Model is the bedrock upon which Costello would build his revolutionary music career, send off the 70s with a bang, and inspire artists for years to come. Like Buddy Holly before him, a bespectacled messiah of pop music.

And for all you Radiohead-jerking, Of Montreal-loving doubters out there, Pitchfork gave it a 10/10. Suck it.

Cut the Top Off, Let’s Drive

This Bike is a Pipe Bomb - Convertible

There’s something very compelling to me about a brutally honest display of Americana, and the spirit of culture that pokes its timid and weathered little head from under it. I don’t mean green lawns, lemonade, stars and stripes, bald fucking eagles, or NASCAR, I mean the dirty and the dejected, the genuine and the poetic, the lost drops of honey in a bucket of tar, ripe with hurricane-mildew and piss from the aforementioned lemonade drinkers. I’m talking about the frontier spirit, the will to change and to demand change, the quiet sound of a nose on the grindstone.

From “go”, we hear the scratches of a jangly distortion and a male/female harmonic wail. Rymodee carries the vocals into southern melody. Behind the simple punk bass-lines and the simple punk drum-beats is a heartfelt, human sound. There’s something that catches us in his voice. It’s a universal sadness—the cries of the down-trodden. But it’s not just a major bummer, there’s also something playfully sweet in it. The album has a very human feel; it’s raw and relentless at the expense of it not sounding cool. And there’s nothing slick here, the band isn’t making a play before an international tour—this is music for the sake of music.

The songs may sound like the cookie-cutter political beer-shits (sorry, my favorite Bukowski-ism) that belong to bands people seem to associate them with on the surface. But this is human politics. This is the politics of culture, to and from the below-the-liners. The songs are about injustice, pain, genuine love, and the tragedy of American reality. They cover “The Preacher and the Slave” and “Strange Fruit”, both made popular in our familiar past, both an illumination on lingering social issues.

These shitty ditties come and go quickly, and the small voice of reason from real American folk is quickly drowned out by our trigger-happy, lemonade-drinking, auto-tune synth bullshit contemporaries. This is the rugged and unflashy human history, told from the disgusting underbelly of American culture—the story of folks just gettin’ by.

-Drew

GOD IS DEAD.... SORTA

SWANS-MY FATHER WILL GUIDE ME UP A ROPE TO THE SKY


Yes, this is Swans, that band from a long time ago, who recorded beautifully offensive music. No, it's not a lame reunion or nostalgic throwback.

This is a fantastic album, both lyrically and musically. As expected from this outfit, it's dark... really dark. But unlike many previous Swans releases, it's not as violent. Its more of a gloomy, funeral, somber, dark. I think Michael Gira might be a prophet... and if he's not, he should be, because this album is that awesome.

Jesus is a jerk.

CRIMSON TIDES, BLACK SKIES, FOREVER

CANCERDOG



NEW TRACK TITLED "CRIMSON TIDES". MELT YOUR SENSES!!

CANCERDOG

Every tear rolling down, is a lesson learned

SONNY & THE SUNSETS-TOMORROW IS ALRIGHT



Beautiful songs, recorded in an intimate fashion, reminiscing on the earnest folk music of the 60's. Stories about growing up, the various forms of love, tubes of death cream, and all other things strange and beautiful in the world. Recorded with acoustic guitar, bass, light percussion, and beautiful harmonies. Sonny & The Sunsets are another pop gem from modern day San Francisco.

Dusty, Hungry, and Afraid of Passing Out

It’s not often that I find myself wondering where so many hipsters came from. There was an ongoing joke we had at FYF Fest (more aptly named “Fuck Yeah Fest” before it had to be changed), that at a certain point in order to fill the L.A. Historic Park to the brim with cool mother fuckers, they started finding people on the street and throwing flannel shirts and moccasins at them and telling them to mill around. For better or worse, the turnout had to be near a thousand. With that said, the lackadaisical general demeanor of much of the crowd fit well the dynamic of this and most other festivals; the bands I saw looked out from the stage to hundreds of bodies shifting weight side-to-side and clapping tepidly after a song. This is, of course, the awkward burden that day bands at festivals need carry.

I got to the park at around 1pm, and with my comp ticket in will call (thanks,
Ali Jafari ) and the will call line ending somewhere in Long Beach, I was bracing for heat stroke. By the time I reached my spot in what seemed like the line to St. Peter’s gate, Blogmaster Jafari talked his way into getting the tickets without waiting. I got inside to see the latter half of the Growlers’ set, and after a dusty six or seven hours, caught a ride back to the Westside and ate until I wanted to die. I want to highlight a few bands I thought were worth highlighting, but first let it be known that the promises of “Vegan/Vegetarian food” went unconfirmed by anybody I talked to—surely, this is because the lines were disgusting and word was going around that they were out of food. Oh yeah, it was also 90 degrees.

The Growlers played a somewhat unenthusiastic set to a somewhat unenthusiastic crowd. To be fair to the band, their typical stage presence is an impression of a take-it-or-leave-it approach to the whole “music” thing, and to be fair to the crowd, it was 1:30pm and these guys were the first of around a dozen bands they’d see. They played the songs well, and their newish-but-entirely-new-to-me songs were even a little bit better than I expected. I wasn’t disappointed.

After that and to escape Vetiver, a few of us headed over to the far corner of the park to see Screaming Females from New Brunswick, New Jersey. We were welcomed by an ill-fitting metal song or two. Piercing screams and a shit-ton of shredding. I enjoyed it, but rest of the audience seemed unsure. After that, the vocals turned for the melodic and they shed the dime-a-dozen metal kick for an awesome blend of blast beats and interesting guitar lines. The frontwoman (I was unsure of the woman part at first from a distance) reminded me vocally of Chrissie Hynde to speak generally, and it was a refreshing departure from the soft and boring vocal stylings of many of the ladies to perform that day. All in all, they put on a great show and found their way into my car stereo.

Next was Davila 666, a pretty rad proto-punk outfit from Puerto Rico. The stage they played at was clear on the opposite side of the park in a dirt field. They interspersed songs more befitting of the festival with quicker-paced punk songs, ones more in the mode of late 70’s bands like the Buzzcocks than, say, Conflict. These songs bought them probably the most visible reaction/participation from the crowd that I saw that day in the form of a half-assed circle pit (I was a considerable distance from the stage during Thee Oh Sees, so the pit I heard about there was lost on me—ask Amir about that one). It was fun being able to pick out the most fragile looking hipsters running around and give them a good shove. I also was considerably less worried about taking a belt-stud or unhinged safety pin to the stomach than these situations might normally make me. The dust kicked up from the commotion and coated the lungs of us in close proximity to the action—I felt like Nick Carraway driving into the dust bowl in the Great Gatsby.
It was good times.

The last band I caught before succumbing to Gandhi-like hunger and bowing out before seeing Man Man was Glenrock, New Jersey’s own Titus Andronicus. Famously one of my favorite bands, my friends are now sick of hearing about them. But you, my friends, are not sick of hearing about them—at least not from my mouth. They played 5 of the 10 songs on their album “The Monitor” (stay tuned for the long-winded nut-tickling I give this album in the near future on this very blog), and even seeing them for the first time at a festival didn’t disappoint. Yes, as big a fan as I am, I had yet to successfully catch a show of theirs. Also FYF misfits, the band was able to inspire high-held fists and gang vocals from the crowd with pleasing ease. Songs that wouldn’t seem to translate well (like the 13 minute last track from the album) were well received and played to perfection—not nearly a technical perfection, but the sloppy, hard-hitting musical style was perfectly complimented by the energy of their performance. Even at a festival. If Patrick Stickles was holding back, nobody knew it. My opinion that Titus was the best band at that festival was, to my jilted surprise, not my opinion alone. It was a great set.

In retrospect, for a festival with only one band I really wanted to see and in the midst of a hunger strike against common sense and after giving myself a sunglass tan that looked like I stenciled myself with spray-tan, I had a surprisingly good time. I feel like most people were as physically uncomfortable as I was by the end of the day. It’s amazing how Maslow’s hierarchy of needs really brings people to the same tired, dusty level as any other human being. I thought about waxing philosophical here about a misfit sub-culture, but that would be self-indulgent. Instead I’ll leave you with mentioning that it was a hot day and there was no shortage of attractive girls at FYF—DEM STEMS.

FYF Review (Amir)

It's hard to say exactly how I felt about FYF. I came into the festival via what felt like hours of extra traffic on the 5 north, which also resulted in me missing a band which I was quite excited for (Let's Wrestle, from the UK, check it out). I got to the festival grounds around 1, and I already saw the hideous will-call line which wrecked the fest for me last year. The FYF staff had said that the problem would be resolved this year, but words are cheap. Thankfully I had my ticket sent to me, but my heart goes out to all the poor souls standing in the hot sun missing bands they paid good money to see. All the negativity aside, I'm in a pretty good mood. As I sit here sipping on my iced coffee and listening to Panda Bear's "Person Pitch", I will attempt to piece together a fair review of the event.

I walked in while Orange County's own, The Growlers, were some songs into their set. You know the guy who listens to a band from early on, sees the not yet well known act as a secret they know of, and loves every bit of it? I'm not gonna be that guy today. Yes the Growlers have gotten pretty big, touring, signed to Dead Oceans, playing FYF. Yes, their sound has changed to a more controlled and well mixed groove. But, they still had it. The band was more mature, but not boring. They played mostly old material, and threw in a new song every now and then. Seeing them was quite nostalgic, and a good way to start my day at the fest.

After getting a beer and witnessing how boring Vetiver was, I proceeded to go see Screaming Females. I had no idea what this band was about, at all, other than guessing a girl was involved. When I got to the stage, I witnessed one of the most badass, raunchy, and down right savage girls I've ever seen. I don't know her name, and I'm too lazy to get up and get the WiFi password, so I'm just gonna call her Kelly. Kelly was on guitar and vocals, and she had a bassist, and a drummer backing her up. She proceeded to scream, shred, scream, sing, shred more, scream more, and make you realize that you're not as badass as you think. It reminded me of a noisier less poppy Dinosaur Jr. The songs were well crafted, her band was on it, and the guitar solos were surreal. Davila 666 was going on, so I had to leave Kelly's set early, but what I witnessed convinced me she was the best female guitarist I've ever seen.

Davila 666 were dust, circle pits, Puerto Rican, catchy, punk, and more dust. These guys had natural charisma, and knew how to get people moving, effortlessly. I don't remember the set all that well, because I was busy dodging the inconvenient cirle pitters and avoiding swallowing more and more dust, but as a whole I remember it sounding good. They're a band to watch at some hole in the wall venue, or a house party, so naturally the music suffered a bit from being on such a large stage, mic'd up, and far less personal than most of your garage shows.

After Davila, I was just killing time waiting for my personal highlight of the day, back to back sets of Thee Oh Sees and Titus Andronicus. Thee Oh Sees played on the small stage, and packed it with people ready to throw down. After the usual introduction, "We're Thee Oh Sees from San Francisco", they reved up into a new song. It was a good song, but I felt like they should have started off with a crowd favorite to get everyone going early on. People got more and more into it until the song was over, and then.... "Enemy Destruct". Once we all heard that starting riff, we knew what was about to go down. They played it harder and faster than on record, and with the sun beating down on us all, dust covering the small amount of air surrounding your body, we all lost it. Dance, dance, dance, all through the rest of the set, which included "Ghost In The Trees", "Tidal Wave", and more that I can't recall. The second half of the set was their new "jam" song. Following the tradition of songs like "Quadrospazzed", "Warm Slime", and "Ruby Go Home", they played this beast out, and mutilated it. I remember distinctly towards the middle of the song, I realized I was in the zone, where you're sorta forgetting how much time had just past, what you were doing, and where you were. I'd go in and out of this state, snapping out of it just to realize how savage this song was really getting. But maybe I was just getting close to passing out and I'm over romanticizing it. When their set was over I came to this realization, John Dwyer is a hypnotist, the band is his office, and his guitar is the pendulum.

Here is a video of them busting out "Meat Step Lively" as recorded by Ali Jafari of ControlAltDelight:

I then jogged across the field (realizing how out of shape I am in the process) to the furthest stage, trying to not miss any of Titus. I got there just in time, but I was in the back of the crowd. I tried inching forward but I was quickly reminded of the trauma my body had just suffered, so I decided to keep it easy here. Titus appropriately kicked their set off with the opener of their new album. But the mix was off, the vocals were too loud, while Pat Stickel's guitar was too low, so when you got to the instrumental movements of the song, you couldn't really hear the guitar which should be front and center. They played only material from their new album, and played it well. To be honest, I got what I wanted to see out of this band... Pat Stickels passionately singing his songs, which at times resemble poetic speeches contained in a melody. I remember him screaming "After all of these years, it's still us against them, it's still us against them", as he turned towards the skyscrapers in downtown LA in utter frustration... and I had one of those moments again. I really think Titus should have played later in the day, considering their huge amount of success in the last year with their critically acclaimed album "The Monitor", and the overall nature of the music....but it's okay <3

So its around 4 something now, the sun is still burning us all, phone lines are jammed due the sheer amount of people here, the festival grounds are running out of food, and whats left of the food has about a 2 hour line in front of it. The place was clusterfucked, in every way. This is where my day took a huge turn, probably due to my breakfast of flaming hot cheetos and lack of will to wait in line for 2 hours to replenish myself. We found some shade close to the stage Wavves was playing at, and killed about an hour and a half. I'm not into Wavves, and his set made me like him even less. It was generic, post post everything pop punk. Yea I wasn't in  he crowd so I can't give a real review of the set, but I could hear it, and I was glad to be sitting far away.

Ariel Pink went on after Wavves. I'm not huge on Pink either, but I wanted to at least check out a couple songs. It was a solid performance, but lacked energy. My friends who like Pink said they thought it was an amazing set, so take that for what you will, but my opinion still stands. His live performance was identical to the new album to me, and his lack of energy killed it. In other news, people seem to remember the purse he was wearing throughout the entire performance more than the set itself. There is much serious debate and speculation as to what sort of purse it was, and what it contained. Leading theories include lofi recording equipment, and drugs. Here is a link to the official report

I am starving at this point, and there is serious talk about leaving to go eat, which meant missing Sleep and Panda Bear... so my story ends early. The last band I was was The Mountain Goats. John Darnielle took the huge stage and large crowd, and transported us all into an intimate room and sang songs to each of us. He's got the singer/songwriter gene; Dylan had it, Neil Young had it, Jeff Mangum had it. It's the ability to just stand there, play songs on your guitar, sing, and make people care about what you're saying. Make them feel what you feel, make them laugh, cry,and  reminisce, with the uttermost goal of relishing the human experience. He sang songs about broken hearts, growing up with angst and confusion, broken houses and families, and all other things everyone goes through at one point or another. He let everyone know of his admiration for Sleep, which was to go on right after, and cracked jokes about 4lokos. The set was revitalizing, and a perfect note for me to leave on. Also note that the lines for food were still as long as ever.

I'll sum this thing up very simply and to the point: there was a good collection of acts, and they played well, but the lack of good management led to a very uncomfortable day. From the long willcall line, to the ridiculous wait time to get the bare necessities of water and food. So FYF staff, here is a cry from me to you, PLEASE hire more people for this event, it's only going to get more popular and crowded. Also, get the Kogi BBQ taco truck to come (I haven't tried it yet)...

<3, Amir