Heart on a Stick
Very Close to, if not actually in, the CD player:
stream full album ° seen/heard ° buy
seen/heard ° listen ° preorder
seen/heard ° listen ° preorder
stream full album ° seen/heard ° buy
There’s People to Be Won Over (The Diableros, Midlake, Cold War Kids, Sound Team, Mercury Lounge/Guy Who Plays “Something” on the F Train, F Train)
posted 07/28/2006
Night of 1,000 Opening Acts, part a-billion, as four little’uns descended on the Merc to further muck up the buzz::honey ratio. In order, then:
I came for The Diableros (myspace). I’ve been listening to You Can’t Break the Strings in Our Olympic Hearts since January, and this was the first time the Toronto band’s crossed the border.
When I first heard the album, I said they sounded like the missing link between Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade; really, they split the difference between the two. The Diableros is a rest area between major cities, lacking the personality of either, but trafficking connecting traits. While you know that Spencer and Dan are hurting, and that Win and Régine are healing, what you know most about the D’s Pete Carmichael is that he’s hearing the same Britpop and post-punk influences as those others. There’s passion here, and distorted vocals and jangly guitars. There’s just not a whole lot of identity, yet.
For fun: This is my favorite song on the CD...
...and, as I mentioned before, I can’t hear it without thinking...
“Pets” should have killed, Friday night. C’mon, guys, it’s got build, bang, twang. “You’ve gotta bust it out” is right in the lyrics! But they didn’t. Totally timid. The group seemed scared all set long, actually, only asserting itself with some too-short guitar builds. They need to have some more fun bringing in the noise... and Carmichael might want to think a bit more about his diaphragm.
For some reason, I think the organ player wasn’t there. My memory, shot.
It’s still a good record (Pitchfork certainly seemed to think so, rating it higher than bloggers’ beloved Tapes ‘n Tapes), but clearly a first step.
See? Don’t be afraid. We don’t bite. Why, we’re downright generous.
In keeping with that, more music:
- The Diableros – Sugar Laced Soul (mp3)
- You can stream the rest of the album, then buy it.
- I (Heart) Music, where I first heard about the band, has mp3s from the band’s recent CBC appearance.
*
Midlake (myspace) has a rich sound, a solid command of their instrumentation, and... ohgoodholyjesus they’re going to bore me to death. Systems shutting... down. Must... hold... on until the next abberative guitar solo...
There is no joy in Midlake. It’s a stagnant pond where the mosquitoes don’t bite, they just slowly suck. The band’s new record is called (groan) TheTrials of Van Occupanther, and (groan) it lacks conviction. They warble on about comfortable beds and making shelter; they want to help a woman gather firewood, but, sigh, they’re too late. They name-check Hobbes – the philosopher, natch, not the tiger, because that would be fun.
They are clearly the worst death metal band out of Denton, Texas.
The band’s killer app is “Roscoe,” a great, great 70’s-style tune driven by some groovy (tha’s right) basswork and a pounding piano line. There’s also a decent ditty called “Head Home” (not remotely as good as this Head Home) that’s driven by some groovy (tha’s right) basswork and a pounding piano line; live, it felt like the piano parts of the two pieces were the exact inverse of one another. The rest of their songs, though – especially with three keyboards were going at once on stage and oddments like “Young Bride’s” violin were relegated to playback – sink into that hookless, synth-heavy Texahoman nuevo-hippie murk the Lips smack out of the park.
Midlake’s Tim Smith lacks Wayne Coyne’s sense of humor; there’s a reason Lips concerts are heavy on confetti and covers, and Smith fails to serve up any cheese with his Mac. A spinning wacko with a sequined shawl and finger-cymbals would have added so much. Everything’s earnest and one-dimensional; the video projection behind the band featured Masterpiece Theatre-style clips, as if to say “We’re as exciting as PBS!” Even the viddy for “Balloon Maker” (watch here) takes a solemn, black-and-white approach to papier-mâché fox heads.
If you look hard enough, though, you can find something entertaining about Midlake. The lyrics are hilarious. Check out the penultimate song off their latest record:
It starts out like Smith’s answering machine message (“Yes, I’m sorry that I’m missed you, I’m sorry that I mi...ssed you”) before dropping this gem:
You’re always chasing after deer
Oh my dear
Oh my dear
And through the meadow I can hear
My fears
Oh my fears
Oh my stars! That there’s some poetry for you. The dear, deer-obsessed dear hypothetically hoofs after the object of his/her affections; as all things do – it’s so just like life! – this must end tragically. It’s hypothetical-Bambi on the hypothetical rocks:
But when you’re all alone
And chasing after deer
Don’t be upset if it’s scared
And you can’t reach it
I know that you are fast
But it’s much faster
And after awhile you can’t keep up
So you start to lag behind
But it doesn’t know
That you’ve resigned
So off a cliff
It falls to the sea
And you are sad
Hooray! Venison for all! Please, God, let Morrissey cover this.
*
For some reason, I’d mentally quarantined Cold War Kids (myspace) with the all the other post-punk knock-offs I mean to avoid; could be the lousy name, could be the egregious blog love. They proved a lot more interesting than I’d reckoned.
CWK is a lamp with faulty wiring on an endtable in an otherwise empty room.
(more to come; for other views check out Hearsay, Music Snobbery, Underrated, Wong Way, and Yeti)
YES? YOU THERE IN THE BACK?