bluethundr
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Another week, another killer show at the Mercury Lounge! Last week, The Most Serene Republic shifted the scene from SoHo to an oxymoronic hot night in Toronto. Tonight’s installment finds the club converted into a 1930’s Appalachian roadhouse, with a dark and morbid twist.
The night was to include performance from the Royale Brothers, taKKa taKKa, Meowskers, and O’Death. Due to our indulging in the gastronomic delights of Katz’s Deli beforehand, my friends and I walked in at the tail end of taKKa taKKa. I didn’t see enough of them to form any fair opinions, so whatever half-baked ones I did come up with, I will keep to myself.
Next up were Williamsburg Brooklyn based keyboard, bass and drum power-trio called Meowskers. Layering 80’s style synth keyboards over a funk-fluent rhythm section, they helped kick the evening off to our nodding approval. The trebly contralto of the lead singer (on keyboards) laid a counterpoint to the chord spewing, rat-a-tat riff-rock of the fuzz bass. The rhythm section, especially the bassist, were adept at the fine art of playing the spaces between the notes for an overall effect that brought the funk, with a power-punk edge. Well done! I look forward to checking out their recordings and seeing how this band develops over the years. As far as I know, they only have an EP out, and have yet to put out an album.
Soon, however, would bring fervent, nether-worldly howl of O’Death. It’s an odd world of dark spirituality. Like a fever-dream at a 1930’s hoot-nanny as you struggle to keep from falling asleep in a drunken stupor. All the while hugging a jug of powerful moonshine with a large ‘X’ on it. It’s a creepy and surreal nightlife. Welcome to “new weird America”.
Part of the burgeoning Alt-Country scene, you may think of them as the Avetts meet Slayer. The Avett brothers may be more in touch with their feelings, but O’Death raises far more hell.
They preside over mass-exorcisms as their audience contort their faces while shouting the lyrics in unison with the band. They stomp on the floor, furiously waving their hands in the air. Mosh pits erupting in the face of country music? Bet on it!
The band leap out of their chairs with eyes rolling into the back of their skulls, vocal chords straining and the fiddle player whittling his bow down to the stick. The rhythm section passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth, taking deep swigs as if they were drinking water. Oh yeah. These guys are the real deal.
Their punk lineage showed itself in it’s full glory in the final song of the night. It was a rousing cover of the Pixies classic ‘Nimrod’s Son’. Rendered with ukulele, acoustic guitar and fiddle (by this time the fiddle player’s bow was completely shot) it had more frenetic energy and better ‘screamology’ than any recent performance by Frank Black or even the Pixies themselves. The audience, which had been vibrating out of their skins all night completely lost it when the first notes of that song rang out, showing their true colors as Punk rockers with country trappings. The mosh pit exploded with previously unknown fury.
I don’t have much exposure to it (yet) but the alt-country scene as it stands now seems to have the freshness and vibrancy that I imagine the punk scene had in NY in the mid 70’s. Or, perhaps, it has the vitality of the No Wave scene of around the 80’s. It also reminds me clearly of the grunge scene of my youth (as in pre-Nevermind era Nirvana or Superfuzz Bigmuff era Mudhoney).
While that analogy may work to convey the energy one may experience at these shows, it falls apart in one important regard. The “DIY” ethic of those earlier times meant that audiences, while they may have respected those bands, never considered them as gods among us.
Audiences of these alt-country bands that I’ve seen live so far seem to revere them. They seem almost worshipful. I could see where it might be fun to put artists on a pedestal, and lose myself in the cult of personality inevitable in almost all forms of music were I a bit younger and less jaded. But I think I prefer to think of my favorite artists as fellow-jerks who happened to make music that I really really like.
It took roughly 5,000 years of cultural evolution before books replaced scrolls as the standards for knowledge and erudition in civil society. And if we are in the midst of a similar transition away from physical media in the form of CD’s to what can be instantly downloaded, then the Princeton Record Exchange is the Library of Alexandria of our times.
That issue aside for a moment, let’s focus on what makes the PRE just so darn special. In nearly every regard, going there is an experience that is well beyond the scope of any typical record store or computer screen. It’s a place run by music geeks for music geeks. And, after all, you can’t download daylight.
First off is the neighborhood in which it’s located. The main drag in Princeton located across the street from the world famous University is dotted with quality restaurants, books stores, wine shops, and and right next to PRE itself is a wonderful Art gallery. The Record Exchange is just a wonderful part of a rich cultural ecosystem.
As you make your way into the store, you will be greeted with the posters and stickers of every band you’ve heard of, and a great many that you may not have (or thought were your own personal secret). They cover every exposed wall, counter-top and crevasse. Stacks of CD’s dwarf that of a typical chain-store. Then there’s the typically acerbic, angular buzz-saw guitar emanating from the strategically placed speakers throughout the store in seeming disdain for palatability.
Whether those speakers are emitting such noisome buzz, or the White album or the Residents or Cat Stevens, it becomes clear that while the clerk behind the counter will exchange currency for Maroon 5 CD’s... this practice is not encouraged. That’s right. Your typical elitist music store. What of it?
At some point you may have the opportunity seek the advice of the staff. Here is where you will stop seeing these people behind the counter and stocking the shelves as overgrown kids in ‘Doors’ and ‘Fleetwood Mac’ baseball shirts. You will recognize recognize him or her as a zealous pundit of cabalistic advice.
Begin to really paw through their extensive collection and the realization dawns that you will simply not find this kind of selection everywhere. If you’re like me, you’ll notice that certain artists that are beyond the purview of your local Sam Goody ... artists like Apples In Stereo, Dr. Dog, Galaxie 500, Harry Nilsson, the Melvins, Spacemen 3, and Stereolab to name but a few of my faves... all have their own titled sections.
Their musical categories are thoroughly even obsessively stocked with varied esoterica. Their collection of used CD’s (mixed in with the general population of new CD’s) is as far-reaching as their new, with each used offering sold for only $7-10.
Their “cheap” CD’s cover a large wall and can be had for only $2 or $3 dollars. In the back of the store you will find a thoroughly recondite DVD section (organized by genre and director). Near the DVD’s you will find a a uniquely abstruse collection of those big black CD’s made from vinyl and from which they get their name.
To speak more directly to an issue I’ve hinted at elsewhere in this piece, I’m sure that the switch in preference from physical, tangible ownership of music to that of less tangible “access” to it will be brief. Especially in comparison to the cultural evolution from scrolls to books. The complete overhaul of the way we distribute and consume music may come within the next couple of generations! In that time, great institutions such as the Princeton Record Exchange will, like Alexandria, burn. I, for one, do not welcome our new click and download overlords. At least... not so readily.
As much as I like, even love, going out and ceremoniously buying my music I am forced to agree that downloading has it’s place in any music fan’s arsenal. No one could, if they are serious about music and given the options, afford everything they could possibly want. Immediacy has it’s firm appeal. And no record store, no matter how complete, could have everything.
On the other hand, and by far, the most important of reason to step away from the keyboard in search of music is that of simple discovery! As your eyes scan the bins you will undoubtedly make accidental discoveries that you simply can’t make electronically. Your eyes aren’t programmed to process everything alphabetically.
Another aspect of going to the PRE is that of community. You know that the reason people come here instead of the mall is that they, like you, are on the prowl for something out of the ordinary. You are there with like-minded individuals, and the conversations you overhear may have an impact on your purchase. The sense of commonality you feel is somewhat akin to experiencing a movie in a theater with a bunch of strangers. This is as opposed renting a DVD in the comfort of your own home. Each approach has its merits.
Don’t let me kid you. A certain amount of patience is, indeed, required for the scavenger hunt approach. If, for example, you find that the artist you seek does not have his/her/their own section, you will then have to go through the general letters. But delayed gratification can, at times, be more satisfying than instant gratification. Not to mention that a certain victory is to be had by finding the object of your desire there in it’s physical, artfully packaged and (of course) DRM free glory.
That’s right, you can type in the name of an artist into a search engine and get exactly what you want, every time and almost without fail. But ask yourself this question the next time you do: how much do you actually appreciate the experience? Was it an event?
It seems to me a complete matter of personal preference as to whether or not you want to devote your time, energy and money to this type of experience. Speaking for myself alone I like the notion of going out to a good store once in a while, and shopping in a neighborhood. Ok, I admit it. For me the PRE siphons off my funds on a weekly basis. What the hell? I enjoy it. And issues of financial Seppuku aside, I might even accidentally shed some sunlight on this pasty Celtic skin of mine!
Holy Cow! A whole year plus has gone by since my last mog entry? Let me assure you, that I am in no way worthy of the 'smokin' appellation that is on my mog page.
Well, I have been active elsewhere on the interweb. But I feel bad for having left behind the wonderful friends and fellow moggers I've met here. Mog is really what got me started in music blogging and I intend at this point to become a more active mogger once again.
Here is one of my more recent blogs, and I will post the others here in succession. I will then post my blogs to iWeb (first)), last.fm and last but not least Mog.
Here is a review of a performance by the Most Serene Republic.
The Most Serene Republic have come along way since I’d seen them last. Adrian Jewett’s (lead singer of TMSR) performance back in ’05 was crazy, over the top and oddly vaudevillian. But it wasn’t enough to carry the rest of the band at that time.
Now, however, the band seems to have matured and gelled into a newer, more mature sound. That new sound is oddly more like the Broken Social Scene than it ever was. But that whole sub-genre of Canadian pop has a life and substance all its own. And wether or not TMSR comes across as sounding just a little bit like their Arts & Crafts contemporaries doesn’t seem to make them any less genuine, or genuinely enjoyable than they ought to be.
The front-man's possessed vaudevillian showmanship have been toned down from the previous time I saw them. He’s not “trying too hard” any longer, and his performance flows more naturally as a result. At times, though, (especially toward the beginning) he could have put down the beer he was drinking and done more of his shtick to keep us entertained. He did, however, become more and more animated as the show went on, thereby becoming more engaging for the audience.
The band seemed more like a hippy-commune throwback in the midst of a psychedelic freak out (though sounding far more modern). At one point the lead singer chided the audience for “not being high enough” claiming that “this is New York Fucking City! The 60’s happened here. It’s really okay”. Very original observation Adrian. Who are you guys anyway? Monster Magnet?
Adding to the dirty-hippy dope fiend fun of the evening were several audience members dancing frantically to this decidedly undanceable music. But, to their credit, they found a way and that made the show more fun.
And apparently he knows his audience well, because he took a moment to mock members of it for “immediately bloggisizing” the event and taking a moment to pause in wonder that the show would be reviewed on the Internet that very night.
I was slow to the uptake. I took a night to sleep. But I did make sure that I got my pictures of the show up on the web before I went to bed. :D
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