Song, by Toad

Well I am sure that any of you who really give a shit what’s happening at South by Southwest this week will have found out from one of the more dilligent blogs who have been writing daily updates.  Honestly though, I doubt anyone who regularly reads this site would have really expected me to be one of those blogs.

I got to Austin at about ten or eleven at night on Wednesday and stumbled into town to find Peej, who kindly offered to put me up, and Vic Galloway, who along with Peej is one of about four people I know in Austin this week, at the Scottish Showcase.

Due to not having bothered with either a badge or a wristband and the place being absolutely jam-packed, Peej had to sneak me in the back door, getting rid of a bouncer with a vague sort of ‘I’m in the band’ response which rather miraculously seemed to work.  Peej had a badge which he waved and that did the trick.

I saw the tail end of the Jetpacks show, which people went absolutely mental for.  I have never been a big fan of the band, honestly, but Peej loves them and they seem to be going down an absolute storm in the States.  They certainly do put on a good show too, so it’s hard not to warm to them.  After some quality MCing by Mr. Galloway, with an enormous super jumbo extra helping of cheese, Frightened Rabbit took to the stage and they really were good.

I gave their new album a bit of a savaging, and in the comments section there was a bit of discussion about how the songs would come across in a live setting, free of the smothering production.  I also said that a lot of the guitar sound on Winter of Mixed Drinks was really good, or at least what little of it you could hear, and live this really is what dominates the songs.  The new stuff fits in perfectly with the older songs, and when they are just played on guitar I enjoyed them miles more than on the record.

On Wednesday night I slept like a fucking corpse, and wandered into town at about three or four o’clock in the afternoon.  First port of call was the Hype Machine to meet Dev Sherlock, who has had the unenviable task of editing our hour longs chats down in to concise five minute soundbites for Hype Machine Radio.  It turns out that instead of simply being a nice bloke on the internet, he actually has a rather storied history as a music journalist and instead of going to a lot of music stuff we wandered off to the Ironworks to eat burned meat and pickles with a beer on the deck.  It was very, very civillised and finally meeting someone who’s been an internet friend for a couple of years now was a rather strange pleasure.

On the subject of internet friends, I finally met a certain Campfires and Battlefields on Thursday evening at the 4AD/Bella Union showcase.  I went in with the Broken Records lads to see them, Efterklang and Midlake, and ended up also catching an excellent set by John Grant, whose new album is out on Bella Union in a few weeks.  He used to be in a band called Czars, who I also rather liked, and he sounded really good.  When he sat down I expected something a bit like Bon Iver, but in fact it was probably closer to Rufus Wainright than anything else.  Very promising, in any case.

Efterklang weren’t bad, and I am not going to go on about Broken Records (great idea – travel all the way to Texas just to go and see bands from Edinburgh).  The real revelation of the night for me was just how good Midlake were, however.  I saw them at the End of the Road Festival a couple of years ago and they were no better than pretty good, and their new album was pretty much like that as well: really enjoyable, but didn’t exactly blow me away.  In the rather fantastic surroundings of Buffalo Billiards in Austin, however, they were pretty brilliant.  The harmonies were gorgeous, and I have no idea why they needed five bloody guitarists, but the sound they made was so nice that you can’t really question them on that count.

And of course, just before the Midlake set, Jamie Broken Records tapped me on the shoulder and said ‘I think there’s someone here you should meet – a certain Mr. Campfires and Battlefields…’

[Click on the images to enlarge them, and go to Blueback Hotrod to view the full set.  I'd like to say a big thank you to Dylan for filming the interview and for letting me use his photos, both for this post and for the titles for the videos.]

It would be a total cliché to describe Willy Vlautin as a natural storyteller, but then again, sometimes the reason that things are clichés is because they are entirely and obviously true.  From the start of the  interview to the end of the gig it is obvious that Vlautin just rolls thoughts and ideas around in his head, around the conversation, just enjoying the process of building phrases and telling you things.

He is also one of the nicest, most unassuming people I have ever met – just a complete gent from start to finish.  I am far from an experienced interviewer, and his readiness to chip in, to participate, and to make the conversation worth everyone’s while turned what could potentially have been quite an awkward half hour into a genuine pleasure.  Maybe that’s why he’s such an engaging performer – he always puts enough of himself into the show to make the interaction worth his and his audience’s while.

Listening to Vlautin’s songs, they are brought vividly to life by what is an understated, but nevertheless phenomenal talent for finding the important detail which turns his broad-brush vistas into crystal-clear snapshots of people and places you can almost smell, they’re so real.

I wonder if it’s his genuine sympathy and interest which allows him to spot that kind of detail, and to communicate it so cleanly.  It’s hard to describe what’s so special about the way he does it, too.  He’s observant, and can be harsh, but never in a judgmental sense.  If ever what he describes comes across as harsh, he manages to do it in a sense that implies somehow that he still has great love for his characters, and it is simply reality which is mean-spirited.  Even describing a van he bought which clapped out five hours out of the lot he imbues the tale with a kind of pathos: “I don’t know what happened to that poor van. It liked me I think; it just didn’t want to drive any more.”

When he talks to me about how he builds his stories, he tells me that there may be a great deal of reality in there but it’s completely jumbled up, although you’d never guess it.  He doesn’t write to expose or to finger point, more as a way of imagining away the injustices and misfortunes of life either for himself or the people he writes about.

In fact, for someone whose stories can be so stark, and whose characters so intensely observational, he is at considerable pains to avoid either being voyeuristic or taking advantage of someone else’s misfortunes, explaining how he’ll exaggerate situations, extrapolate greatly from small moments to create the chains of events which provide the backbone to his plot, and break up and bury the literal observations under layers of new characters, new places and new consequences.

The catharsis, he tells me, is still the same.  Just because the feeling is caused by different circumstances and happening to a very different person, doesn’t mean that demon isn’t exorcised – as long as the heart of it is there, it’s still the same.

I was a little nervous going into this interview not to cross any lines by talking about Vlautin’s books or his music either too much or too little; preferring to try and let him define how much separation he wanted to keep between the two.  It turns out that boundary barely exists, however.

During the interview he tells me about how his latest book, Lean On Pete, was what happened when he sat down and started writing a story which had begun as a song which didn’t really work.  Songs like The Disappearance of Ray Norton from Thirteen Cities remained as songs, but ended up being spoken word because he just couldn’t get the story he wanted to tell to fit into a traditional song format.

As he chats his way through the gig it becomes increasingly clear that the clichés are perhaps still the best point of reference, at least to begin to understand Willy Vlautin.  He is, simply, a storyteller, and the medium is flexible.  What doesn’t change though, to expand on that cliché a little, is that perhaps as much as a storyteller, he comes across as a listener, and that’s probably why he’s so good.

The band have been together for fifteen years, and the obvious consonance between them as musicians seems to flow from that openness to other people, and the performance itself is full of that spirit.  I love an awful lot of Richmond Fontaine’s music, but there are definitely times when it’s not entirely my cup of tea.  Live, though, the generosity of Vlautin and his friends has so much impact that I found myself drawn in by the warmth they project and even loving the songs I hadn’t enjoyed as much on record.

It was a lovely evening in general, and the interview was so interesting that I am going to publish it in its entirety as a podcast in the next couple of weeks so you can all hear it for yourselves.  I’ll intersperse the conversation with the songs which get mentioned, and I absolutely defy anyone not to be captivated.

Richmond Fontaine – Moving Back Home #2

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Richmond Fontaine – The Boyfriends

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It’s been a little quiet recently because, as I explained on the Monday post, I have been down in London for the last few days. Whilst there I took my parents to see Nico Muhly at the Roundhouse. Nico Muhly is apparently something of a bright young thing as far as the world of classical music is concerned, and of course with my rather less than encyclopaedic knowledge of that particular field of music, I am no position to argue. He was certainly a charming compere for the evening, and came across as a genuinely warm and witty guy. What drew me along to this, however, was not Mr. Muhly himself but Sam Amidon, who was also on the bill.

Essentially, there were six parts to the evening’s performance. Before the interval Muhly performed a Philip Glass piece on the piano, which was absolutely gorgeous, then the Britten Symphonia played a piece by Muhly himself, and then Muhly conducted Britten Symphonia in accompanying Sam Amidon singing three American folk songs. After the break there was something else by Muhly, followed by a twenty minute piece which butchered American folk classic The Only Tune, chopping it up with not just classical parts but also samples and electronic noise performed by Valgeir Sigurðsson (the head of Amidon and Muhly’s record label, Bedroom Community). Finally, Muhly conducted Britten Symphonia playing a Steve Reich piece called City Life. Read the rest of this entry »

After Sunday’s Virgin of the Birds videos, these are the Broken Records songs from the New Year’s Eve house gig.  The stunning Aleko, above, is an exclusive (ZOMG!!!1!), and will be the b-side to their next single.

The lads have also begun work on their second album, which will be out on 4AD some time this year, presumably, and we were treated to an exclusive preview of a song from that album, but I am not allowed to show you that on the internet because it’s a secret.  See – that’s why you should come to the house gigs.

This performance reminded me an awful lot of Broken Records’ rather gorgeous Toad Session (the first ever Toad Session, in fact) because it’s not often you see Jamie with no more than violin to flesh out the sound.  In fact, they played If the News Makes You Sad and Wolves on New Year’s which also featured on that session, and I had a lovely little nostalgic moment all to myself.

For those of you who are interested, the rest of our videos (and there are an awful lot of them these days) can be found here.

On New Year’s Eve 2009, instead of fighting the crowds in the centre of Edinburgh, we decided to take it a little bit easier and stay back in the house.  By sheer coincidence Jon Rooney from Virgin of the Birds got in touch to say that he would be visiting Edinburgh and to ask if there was any possibility of doing something, like a live show or a Toad Session while he was over.  We were somewhat restricted by the fact that Mrs. Toad and I were only getting back from visiting the Toads -in-Law on New Year’s Eve itself, so we thought that a house gig would be the perfect solution.

Jamie and Rory from Broken Records also agreed to play, giving us a really strong lineup, and their videos will be going up later in the week.  We actually broadcast the gig itself live on the internet, and have now figured out how to do it using the really posh camera we use for the Toad Sessions, so in future the live stream should genuinely be worth watching.

These are the four videos we made of the Virgin of the Birds set.  The photos used for the titles were taken by Dylan from Blueback Hotrod, and the full set can be viewed over at his site.  Virgin of the Birds’ last two (brilliant) EPs can be downloaded from Abandoned Love Records, and their previous album can be bought there as well.  Enjoy.

Welcome to the live broadcast of the third Song, by Toad house gig.  This will go live from about eight or nine pm UK time on New Year’s Eve 2009, and there’s some sort of chat wotsit to be found here, which Mrs. Toad will be using for the duration of the gig.

To find out more about the bands, go to the respective MySpace pages for Broken Records and Virgin of the Birds.  The player is below the fold, because it slows the whole page down apparently, so to watch the click click on the read more thingy. Read the rest of this entry »

I don’t mean to irk the purists in the first sentence, but I am not quite the slavering Daniel Johnston acolyte I might be.  I went because I find his stuff intriguing, because loads of bands I love hold him in such high regard, but largely because I was curious about how someone quite so halting, awkward and, lets face it, weird ended up being such a cult hero for so many people.

I arrived late, due to radio commitments, so I missed pretty much everything up until Laura Marling’s support slot which was… decent.  Whenever I see someone like her who is, if not actually famous at least indie famous, I find myself wondering ‘If I didn’t know who she was and this was the first time I saw her in some ropey club or other, would I be falling over myself to release her records?’  In this case the answer is definitely no.  She seemed nice, she can certainly write a tune, but I am left pretty much entirely unmoved by her music I am afraid, and the solo acoustic setting did nothing much to improve on my impression of the album, which was equally indifferent.

Johnston on the other hand is a different prospect entirely.  He seems comfortable enough in the presence of the crowd, even reassured by it, which is slightly contrary to the (admittedly arbitrary) picture I’d managed to build in my head of him.  The first few songs are just him and an electric ukulele, and I don’t know enough to say for certain, but it seemed very much like he could barely play it.  I don’t know if this is simply a skill he has been unable to acquire despite what must be tons of hours of practise, or whether he’s actually really good and just plays in fumbling style, which I suppose is possible.  It seemed a lot like the former to me though, I have to confess.

These songs, despite the playing, and maybe because of the more basic sound, are the ones I like the most.  There’s something captivating about his stumbling musicianship and uncertain delivery which resonates so perfectly with his lyrics that it makes the songs seem all the more true in this format, something which the more polished band numbers can’t ever quite achieve.

When the Wave Pictures come on to play as Johnston’s backing band the results are a little patchy.  It’s not the fault of the band at all, but I personally just felt that some songs worked better than others, and there were defintely times when the plain vanilla bass and drums simply eroded the individualism of Johnston’s songwriting.  It could be a little smothering, basically.

Then again, maybe that’s how he sees himself.  For someone who seems to utterly disregard most basic songwriting axioms when he sits down to write, the three Beatles covers in this set seem to imply that he does harbour more straighforward pop instincts in there somewhere.  Even with their weird structures, his own songs are often successful because they do still contain a lyric simple yet so honestly, obviously true that it has the same impact as a memorable rhyming couplet.  And for all he can barely play them, he can certainly write guitar hooks.

Maybe that’s why the Beatles covers get such a cheer – maybe that kind of sudden statement of unselfconscious joy is at the heart of his popularity.  It’s a weird kind of shotgun marriage: the awkward, uncomfortable, vulnerability which is broken here and there with the musical equivalent of a sunny smile.  He has the shakes something rotten, and his lyrics are raw and unflinching, and he sounds like his voice will crack at any moment, and yet when he decides to hold a note he obviously can do, and he seems genuinely cheered by the love coming from the crowd.

So for all I don’t know his music that well, I can see from this gig how people get so engrossed in Daniel Johnston.  It really is all just out there for you to see: there seem to be no barriers at all between him and his audience.  And despite the age of Johnston himself, all the awkward but nevertheless very hip teenagers in the Queen’s Hall seem to be beside themselves in rapture.   But I think by the end of the night, that I just about get it. It was an odd gig though – really good, but almost more of a social experience than a musical one in many ways.  For me anyway.  For a good proportion of the people there it was as damn near a religious experience as they are likely to get.

Daniel Johnston – Life in Vain

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Daniel Johnston – True Love Will Find You in the End (His only encore – now that was a privilege!)

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MySpace | More mp3s | Buy from Amazon

[The second part of this week's Sunday Supplement is a gig review written by (the other) Matthew, who helps us out with label work, for which we are hugely grateful, and is also working with Meursault, helping them organise and publicise their tour.  And in return for all this help we give him...  erm, we, er, give...  oh dear.]

This was superb. End of.

I thoroughly enjoyed each performance, though I don’t have much to say about Edward & The McCalls as this was my first real impression of them and I’d like to maybe take some time to get to grips with them a little more – though they did play some rather snazzy toe-tappers.

The thing I was particularly looking forward to was seeing My Kappa Roots perform. It would be really silly for me to try and describe how much I love this guy’s music. Everything about it is just perfect. There’s nothing like a good stroll with the iPod in playing The House of St Colme Burnt Down. I hadn’t seen Pablo play before so I was really fucking excited. He did not disappoint one bit. Each song was played with absolute perfection and at times I couldn’t help but let my jaw slip. I wasn’t aware if I was drooling or anything, but there’s a chance I was. Urgh. So. Fucking. Good.

The thing I noticed about Pablo was how good a guitarist he is. I’m really quite jealous actually. His songs are played so delicately and intricately with such a good balance between simple strums of emphasis and complicatedly plucked melodies. Beautiful.

Another thing is Pablo’s voice. If there is a sadder sound in the world I implore you to find it. I really, really love sad voices. I don’t know why. Perhaps my depressive tendencies make me a little more partial to them. Perhaps it’s because sadness is beautiful. Beauty is a sad thing. Was it not Oscar Wilde who said “all art is quite useless”? What a bloody distressing thought. Apologies. But it is very true. All things of beauty are useless – love, or indeed any emotion at all, music, literature. It’s all completely and utterly fucking useless. But we love it anyway.

I think I went a bit off the point there (though I hate people with “points”, I want to break their fucking point off and shove it…(yeah, there I go again)). Right, what was I saying? Oh yes. It was bloody good.

I’d actually only heard Glaciers maybe a week before this gig so it was still really fresh in my mind. I was really eager to see Nicolas play because I couldn’t – and still can’t – understand how someone can be so talented. Not only is he a damn good song writer  and amazing illustrator, he’s a bloody good performer. I’m about sick of falling in love with a band’s recorded work and then being disappointed by them live. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just so unfortunate I keep catching them on an off day or something. But anyway, Glaciers was brilliant, to say the least.

Nicolas came across as a really lovely, patient chap with a… a, well I don’t want to sound clichéd, but a nice glow. He glowed with enthusiasm and real character, and it was a pleasure to watch. He also had his friend Will with him who played the organ and belted out some really beautiful singing. They made quite a lovely pair.

They started off with some really nice and quiet ukulele songs, which happen to be Nicolas’ interpretation of some found rugby songs. Quite brilliant. Then they moved on to his own songs which, I think, were played with a wee bit more confidence and presence.

The Bowery really is my favourite venue. It’s the perfect place to see these sorts of performances. It’s quiet, small, personal, upfront, modest and just plain wonderful. I love it. It’s the sort of place these sorts of bands can come out of their shell and feel comfortable enough to really get into their show without feeling too overpowering and obnoxious. It feels like you’re just in a room with your friends having a great time, whether it’s relaxing or partying, laughing or crying. I’m so glad it’s there.

 As for the gig itself, I’m not sure I have much more to say about it. Hmm. All I can think is that I wish it went on for a bit longer.

Oh yes. Check out Nicolas’ art stuffs. He’s a genius.

Glaciers – The Horse and Cow

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These videos were taken when I interviewed Wild Beasts for Fresh Air Radio a little while ago, and I thought you might be interested in seeing them.  Ben (the wee chap on the left) has a fucking amazing voice.

The Fresh Air broadcast is about to start up actually, and it looks like I am going to get a Wednesday evening slot – hopefully around half six or seven – so watch out for that in the coming weeks.  In fact there’s actually a launch party in the big swanky-looking Uni building thing on Bristo square (Teviot, is it?) on Tuesday.  The beer’s fucking cheap so please come along and help kick things off with a degree of drunken debauchery.

Interview is here.

Fresh Air Radio website.

Wild Beasts website.

Buy Wild Beasts stuff on Amazon.

[Well, I couldn't exactly review this gig myself, could I so Dianna has very kindly volunteered to write this for me for this week's Sunday Supplement.  Click on the images to enlarge them, and go to Blueback Hotrod to see Dylan's entire set from the night, and to read Dianna's own blog (shockingly, it's not about music) click here.  The next house gig will be in November for the Maxwell Panther album launch.]

Somehow I’ve been roped into penning this Sunday Supplement. Which, I have to admit, is a bit daunting as I’m a neophyte, comparatively, to this whole scene. As a bit of a preface and a warning, I’ll just say that this in no way is a very good musical review. I’ll leave that to people who know what they’re talking about – or barring that, are much better than I am at pretending that they do.

I didn’t go to the first Toad House Gig. I wasn’t in the country, so I was at a bit of a disadvantage. If it was anywhere near as pleasant as the second was, these things might just have a bit of staying power.

My friend and I managed to arrived unfashionably early, despite the fact that my iPhone conspired with my iBook and iPod to erase any trace of the address from my iCal. That’s a bit of a lie, I actually have a MacBook. I just liked the whole iCrap trend I had going there. But, on the bright side of that, I had a mini tour of Stockbridge, which is surprisingly cleaner and brighter than Leith. Which, on second thought isn’t surprising at all, but I’m still completely charmed by its trash-free streets and shiny, shiny lights.

After running into Dylan who helpfully pointed the way, Rebecca and I found ourselves in the fabled residence of the Toad family – consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Toad, and their cohabitant, Floyd, who made several comedic appearances throughout the evening. I have to say, that cat has remarkable timing. His accompaniment with Animal Magic Tricks was nothing short of inspired.

It’s rare that one gets to sit on a comfy sofa three feet away from the performer in a close, intimate setting. For Animal Magic Tricks, this was enchanting. During Men Daimler, this was more borderline startling – I think we all witnessed first-hand the power of a singer who really knows how to project. It took me back to the days early in my college/undergrad/underage days when I’d go to house parties, have one beer, and then feel extremely nervous because I was positive the cops were going to come because of the noise, give me a MIP (minor in possession for those of you not from the States) and I’d never become the senator/astronaut/doctor I’d alway dreamed of becoming.

Anyway. Besides the appeal of comfy places to sit, and the ability to have any beverage that I wanted (because I had to bring it myself), the true appeal of the night was the informality of it all. It was much like an extremely large dinner party without any dinner – or almost like a feast in some sort of king’s court replete with minstrels for our entertainment. An example which, in one fell swoop, completely bashes that whole ‘informal’ thing that I said and adds an air of pretentious fatuousness that I really feel was lacking from this post. Which just doubled with the use of the term ‘pretentious fatuousness.’

Perhaps I should actually talk about the music. As this is, primarily it seems, a music-type blog. Both sets were well suited to the small venue, especially Animal Magic Tricks as you got to see all of the things she was doing with the interesting little gadgets she had with her. She was, by the way, absolutely beguiling. I didn’t really know either of these musicians – except by virtue of their Myspace pages – but I was genuinely delighted by what I heard. Floyd’s interruptions, Matthew’s interjections on equipment use and misuse, and Men Daimler’s occasional lyrical slippage only added to the sense that we were all just a group of friends (friends who may not have actually ever met in real life) who were enjoying the talents of a couple of their more gifted friends (also whom they had never actually met before).

Unfortunately, my friend and I had to be horribly responsible postgrad students and got home before midnight, so I’m unable to fill you in on any gin-soaked shenanigans that may have taken place later. I might be able to extrapolate and make something up, but I’m not really all that bothered. So, instead enjoy the lovely photos from Blueback Hotrod from that night and just make them up yourself. If you were watching the live webcast, it won’t be that hard – unless we’re talking about anything that happened anywhere that wasn’t the 6 feet or so of stage.