The Unblinking Ear Podcast 2/21/13

(Above: a somewhat nicer view than my apartment)

Despite the fact that I'm on vacation right now in lovely Savannah, GA, I still found the time to post a new Unblinking Ear Podcast. Call it devotion to you, dear listener. Or call it chronic, crippling OCD, which is probably more accurate.

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The Unblinking Ear Podcast: Illest Jamz '09

(One of 2009's most intriguing people)

I had hoped to complete this best of 2009 podcast sometime before, you know, 2009 ended. However, I forgot that the time off one gets for the holidays are often just as exhausting as any working week.

Despite an informal year-end round up I posted, I have yet to compile a conveniently enumerated list of my year's top albums. And I don't think I will, for reasons better explained by Ben Tausig at Dusted. However, if you really feel you need a list, I will create and send you one upon request, though I must warn you that after the top spot occupied by Reigning Sound and a silver medal for Grass Widow, the order will be fairly arbitrary.

There are some folks whom I hold in high regard that did make list and contain a bunch of records that escaped my field of vision. (Field of earshot? Auditory range?) Check them out and see how many of these stragglers wander into my next podcast:

Doug Mosurak

Henry Owings

WFMU's Terre T

WFMU's Evan "Funk" Davies

WPRB's Jon Solomon

DJ Rick

Brushback

Matador Records Staff and Artists

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The Unblinking Ear Podcast: It's a Bit Rich

The folks at Paste magazine have given us a real think piece in their best of the decade issue on the evolution of the hipster. This probably would have been a bit more potent had the the Hipster Handbook not already mocked these archetypes much more effectively six years ago. That's not very deck. It's also a bit ironic as I'm pretty sure that every one of their selections for the decade's best music, movies, TV shows and books are issued to one as soon as they sign a lease in Williamsburg. However, I suppose it's ultimately a brave move as they run the risk of alienating their core readership on hipsters who love to scoff at other hipsters while denying their own hipsterdom. See you all swingin' on the flippity-flop!


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I Like Things

(Photo of Grass Widow and the Brooklyn Museum taken from Flickr)

I have a propensity to gripe. A good percentage of my blog posts are complaints, in one way or another. I'm often moved to write for the purpose of offering a counter argument. I'll see something that gets the "kids" excited, such as Dirty Projectors or the Pavement reunion, but doesn't quite sit well with me for whatever reason and that's enough to get my fingers tapping on the keyboard. Am I being contrarian for the sake of being contrarian? Am I sucking the fun out of everything?

Some have told me I am on both counts. I prefer to think of it as keeping people honest. Dissent is an important thing. Ideas are not valid until they're scrutinized. Plus, I'd like to think all the negativity is actually a by product of passion. Cynicism birthed from idealism and all that. I take rock music (perhaps far too) seriously, and when it's not all it could be, I feel compelled to comment. It's my own version of electric white boy blues. ("Electric" meaning an internet connection and not amplification in this case.)

Still, there is the fear that I'm turning into the Phil Mushnick of music blogging. I actually scrapped a post on Pitchfork's review of the Girls album for fear I was repeating points I had already made. (Though I did include a bit of it in the post I eventually created in its place.) Being a crank is one thing but being redundant is far worse a crime.

Besides, there's a lot I do like and I'd much rather share the good than vivisect the bad. Of course, I do share music I enjoy every time I make a podcast but frankly, doing it via prose is much more challenging. I owe it to you, dear reader, to at least make the effort.

So, here. A bunch of things I like:

Last Saturday I managed to catch two things I liked very much. As part of a corporate-sponsored bit of altruism, I saw the recently opened Who Shot Rock & Roll exhibition as well as a performance from San Francisco's Grass Widow at the Brooklyn Museum. The exhibition is a real stunner, transcending cliched rock star worship. It posits the photographers who shot these musicians are artists whose work defined the image of rock n roll, perhaps even more so than the musicians themselves. It's not the biggest revelation for anybody who's been paying attention, but seeing the lot of these images in the same place, ranging from the obvious (Pennie Smith's shot of Paul Simonon smashing his bass) to the obscure (Justin Borucki's shot of unknown punk rockers S.T.U.N. at CBGBs), is a compelling experience.

Grass Widow somehow managed to be equally impressive. The all-woman trio released their self-titled debut long-player earlier this year and finally made it to New York for a series of seven or gigs over the course of a single weekend. (Lots of day/night double headers for these ladies.) The album is one of the year's best, further evidence that great musicianship and technical prowess do not have a correlative relationship. Grass Widow's songs are relatively simple but take unexpected turns, their angularity tempered by surprisingly lush three-part harmonies. The closest antecedent is probably the Raincoats but like most remarkable bands, mere comparison doesn't do Grass Widow justice. Their album has just been repressed by Make A Mess Records and is also available via iTunes. A more recent 4-song 12" EP on Captured Tracks is also recommended.

I like other new records too. A couple of months ago I noted that there were a bunch of noteworthy releases which all came out in a relatively short period. I'm slowly making my way through the pile and have found the below to be particularly ear-pleasing. (Caveat emptor: my ears are pleased by things that frighten most other humans.)

The Fresh & Onlys Grey-Eyed Girls
Second album from this group, who apparently already have a third slated for release on In The Red next year. I haven't heard the first one but I'm looking forward to the third after hearing this. Kind of reminds me of the aspect of New Zealand post-punk bands that reminds me of 60s garage. I'm not sure if that makes any sense but if it sounds appealing to you, you'd probably dig this record a lot.

Times New Viking Born Again Revisited
A return to form after last year's somewhat disappointing effort. I've wondered aloud if TNV might do themselves a favor by going into an actual studio with a sympathetic producer/engineer. I'm not saying hire Ric Ocasek like fellow hiss-loving Ohioans Guided By Voices did, but maybe someone who could replicate their live sound. In any case, the new album proves I often don't know what the hell I'm talking about. They haven't cleaned up a bit and still knock it out of the park.

Pissed Jeans King of Jeans
A terrific third album of heavy punk sludge from one of the best post-hardcore outfits going today. Often compared to mid to late period Black Flag (the good parts, I hope), I actually hear a lot of the Birthday Party in the new album. Singer Matt Korvette stretches vocals into twisted, tortured forms just like vintage Cave. The band retains their sick/wicked/juvenile sense of humor. If you don't find a cut like "R-Rated Movie" hilarious, then you probably think this past year was the best season of Curb Your Enthusiasm yet.

I like other things besides records. TV, for example. And the best show on TV right now just might be Adult Swim's The Venture Bros. Why might it be the best show in television? Well, it has the deep mythology, rich backstory and character development of a show like Lost while being just as funny as anything else on the air right now. It's really the best of both worlds. Like other Adult Swim shows, The Venture Bros get a lot of mileage out of "geek-recognition" humor (as the Onion AV Club called it). However, unlike the Family Guy/Robot Chicken school of let's-throw-spaghetti-at-the-wall-and-see-what-sticks gag comedy, The Ventures generally stay within their universe of "kiddie pulp" (i.e. superheroes, boy adventurers) though even other references (a Hunter S. Thompson pastiche and David Bowie himself are major characters) are fully integrated into the story. Plus, it's the best looking animation on Adult Swim by some distance.

You know what else I like? Reading. And the most entertaining prose book I've read this year is Mike Edison's I Have Fun Everywhere I Go. Subtitled "Savage Tales of Pot, Porn, Punk Rock, Pro Wrestling, Talking Ape, Evil Bosses, Dirty Blues, American Heroes, and the Most Notorious Magazines in the World," Edison's biography details his career as a kind of lowbrow renaissance man. Edison wrote and edited for various wrestling dirt sheets, stroke books and skin mags, all while maintaining a parallel career as a drummer for a series of low-rent garage rock bands. And that doesn't even tell half the story. The book certainly contains all the drug consumption, fornication and general debauchery one might expect, but Edison's writing is sharp, involving and good-humored, transforming what might have been lurid sensationalism into literate earthiness. Even if it wasn't, wouldn't you want to read the life story of a guy who was publisher of High Times and buddies with GG Allin anyway? Oh... Evil Knievel is in there too.

My personal favorite anecdote: After Edison balked at writing a gay-oriented smut book under the premise that he simply didn't know the subject matter, his editor told him "You got a hole, and you got a pole, and that don't change. Now sit down and write your fucking book." Pure poetry.

The year's best book, sequential art division, would have to be David Mazzucchelli's Asterios Polyp. Mazzucchelli made a name for himself in the 80s, penciling a pair of critically acclaimed and hugely popular superhero comics with Frank Miller writing: Daredevil: Born Again and Batman: Year One. He was an in demand artist and could have had a long and profitable career drawing men with capes. However, Mazzucchelli decided to give up the superhero racket and focus on art comics. His work since has been been anything but prolific. His major works in the past 20 years have the Rubber Blanket anthology, which lasted three issues, and a graphic novel adaptation of Paul Auster's City of Glass.

His first entirely self-penned and illustrated graphic was finally released earlier this year and I have to say Asterios Polyp was well worth the wait. It's an auteur comic through and through, as interested in the way it tells its story as much as than the story itself. Form comments on content and vice versa. Mazzucchelli does things with color and line work I've never seen done before. For example, characters are drawn in different visual styles (right down to their shapes and fonts used for their speech balloons), which represent their differing philosophies. As two characters become romantically involved and their philosophies are found to be compatible, their style merge into one. When the characters argue, they separate. It's a simple tactic that pays off brilliantly. That's just the tip of the iceberg. Mazzucchelli plays with the comics form to comment on the subjects of identity, academia, aesthetics, philosophy and fate and it would not surprise me in the least if Asterios Polyp is quickly acknowledged as one the great works of its medium. (Please read Douglas Wolk's New York Times review of the book for a more thorough analysis.) I should note that Asterios Polyp is not as heady or challenging as I'm perhaps making it sound. It's a total delight to read. I went through the whole thing in one sitting.

So there you have it. That should keep you occupied for a while. Hopefully, you'll find the works above more rewarding than the scathing dismissal I nearly wrote on New York Magazine's suckjob cover story on Brooklyn bands who take the rock out indie rock. What's the line from that Buzzcocks' song? "Now I can stand austerity but it gets a little much/when there's all these livid things that you never get to touch."

I saw two rock shows this weekend.

For a hermit like me that's a pretty big deal.

On Friday night I saw New Zealand indie rock legends The Clean at Cakeshop. The Clean are one of my favorite all time bands and they did not disappoint. If cleanliness is next to godliness then The Clean are indeed next to Gods. I thought maybe my enjoyment stemmed from the fact that I was finally getting to hear them play those cherished songs live but a companion of mine who had never heard the band before volunteered that she thought the band sounded awesome as well. Perhaps seeing them in Cakeshop, with its tiny basement of a performance area, best replicated the sort of environment The Clean would be playing during their early 80s heyday. It was a fairly shambolic affair with the occasional false starts, bum notes and abrupt endings but the music was so transcendent it hardly mattered. The band mainly played selections from Compilation which I suppose are their "hits" though there were other tunes like the mighty "Draw(in)g to a (W)hole" from 1990's Vehicle and Robert Scott's "E Motel" from 2001's Getaway. Perhaps most affecting of all was their version of "Hold onto the Rail" by Clean side project/offshoot The Great Unwashed. (Not these guys.) Opening line: "You say we're like the Rolling Stones/Or the Beatles or better." Yes... I do say.

I did happen to catch the openers, Brooklyn's Crystal Stilts. They played in a C86 style with a bit more of a downer vibe. Imagine the Pastels if they listened to nothing but the Xpressway discography for a year. Some folks were turned off by the singer's Ian Curtis-y vocals but I kind of dug 'em. If they had a 45 for sale I would've picked it up which I suppose qualifies as an endorsement.

One quick note about Cakeshop: in theory it's the coolest hangout in NYC; a café-cum-record shop-cum-live music venue. Unfortunately. it doesn't quite live up to it in practice. The café is fine and the record shop is small but has a nice (if slightly pricey) selection of used vinyl. However, their basement where they hold shows is set up in such a way that unless you're directly in front of the stage it's impossible to see the band. This is unfortunate because the sound is quite good and they consistently book worthwhile acts. Sadly, there's probably nothing that can be done about this without altering the architecture of the building itself. I'll just continue going and elbow my way to front when I can.

On Sunday night I saw Mudhoney with Pissed Jeans as support at Bowery Ballroon. It was my second time seeing the PJs and they were much more lively than the previous time which was in front of about 16 people in some kind of student rec center. Singer Matt Korvette is certainly trying his best to become his generation's David Yow. The band's incredibly loud Flipper/Drunks with Guns/My War-era Black Flag style noise punk seemed to divide the crowd but I'm sure the headliners approved. And how can you not like a band that makes this video?

Mudhoney was billed as playing Superfuzz Bigmuff and early singles which is pretty much exactly what they did opening the show with "Touch Me I'm Sick" and playing every single song from the collection that if not birthed grunge at least served as it's first identifiable archetype. This included both covers: a dirge-like, bad acid trip version of Sonic Youth's "Halloween" (betcha SY's not doing that one anymore) and the Dicks' mighty punk classic "Hate the Police" which closed their set and made me grin from ear to ear. An encore consisted entirely of covers (I think) with Mark Arm eschewing guitar and playing punk frontman for takes on Fang's "The Money Will Roll Right In" and Black Flag's "Fix Me" among others. If that makes it sound like the covers were the highlights of the performance that's probably at least half true as Mudhoney were a band whose excellent taste could sometimes exceed their songwriting chops. But watching 30-somethings slam dance and stage dive(!) to "You Got It (Keep It Out of My Face)" was not without its charm. A nostalgia revue for Gen Xers? Probably but I'll take it over any VH1 Classic-sponsored tour.