Christine Hale

Awaken! “A Land”
(from the self-titled, self-released album out now)

If Awaken! is a peek into the psyche of band mastermind Jesse Rakusin, then the inside of his head must be a hazy and oddly comfortable place. Firmly rooted in lo-fi psych and smoky bedroom blues, the eponymous full-length finds Rakusin attempting otherworldly heights equipped only with a 4-track. The lack of polish in the recording gives the record an endearingly intimate quality; this is the sound of somebody pouring his heart out under threat of noise complaints from neighbors. Searing guitar leads that should be noisy and resonant sound oddly muted, and when Rakusin lets loose with his singing, he lets loose quietly enough that anybody on the other side of his bedroom wall wouldn’t wake up. Somehow, the lack of production values reinforces the project. Rakusin’s unhinged songwriting and impassioned performances are well-served by the restrictions of recording in a quiet atmosphere. Awaken! becomes an intriguing collection of sparse, intimate psychedelic rock—undeniably heartfelt even if the neighbors never heard a note.

—Amorn Bholsangngam

As the clock struck 11, Lidell, clad in a black hoodie concealing a rippling, vertically striped shirt, hit the stage with a motley crew of musicians seemingly selected to match his notorious eccentricity.  With a percussionist flailing his stiff, raven dreadlocks throughout the show, a guitarist who seemed to have only reached puberty recently, and a keyboardist who bore a striking resemblance to Mr. Rosso from Freaks and Geeks, the musicians looked like the embodiment of a Craigslist-constructed band.  However, as soon as they launched into “Compass,” the show’s opening number and the title track of Lidell’s latest album, any doubts anyone had about these seemingly mismatched players were instantly erased.  In spite of the disparity in their appearance, the band played in perfect harmony with a great balance between precision and swing.  As they worked on establishing nasty grooves (as well as the occasional tender accompaniment for ballads), Lidell showcased his considerable abilities as both a singer and a showman.  When the largely middle-aged crowd wasn’t transfixed by his impassioned gyrating (which was mirrored by their own Elaine Benes-esque dancing), they were admiring his impressive vocal chops.  On the poignant torch song “She Needs Me,” Lidell demonstrated his skill in penetrating the hearts of listeners with his warm, emotive, soaring voice.  In the middle of the show, the band deserted the stage and left him to perform a dazzling display of beatboxing with the assistance of a loop pedal and laptop.  As Lidell wrapped the show with an encore consisting of pleasers “Multiply” and “Little Bit of Feel Good,” he sent the crowd home with the feeling that they hadn’t experienced a facsimile of a soul singer.—No, they got the real thing.

Boasting two stages on two floors of Downtown’s Club Nokia, the sold-out event was not quite of a large enough scale to be considered massive, though that didn’t stop its patrons from indulging in massive-style excess.  While I did catch a glimpse of the mound of confiscated drugs at the venue’s entrance, it’s undeniable that a fair amount of mind altering substances made it past the double doors—if the sea of completely uninhibited, barely clothed dancers was any indication.  Of course, chemicals were only partially responsible for the euphoria the crowd was experiencing; the sensory overload of a production transpiring onstage would be incredibly stimulating to even the squarest of observers.  Each of the screens at Club Nokia was synchronized to display the psychedelic visuals being projected behind the DJs, the perfect complement to the sound system’s low-end assault.  Only the rapidly spinning glow sticks and neon clothing of the audience could compete for your eyes’ attention.

The music was abrasive and relentless, never allowing a break in the action.  The DJs were well aware that there is a no bigger buzz kill than the absence of a beat to pump your fists to.  The Bass Chamber, located on the fourth floor and accessible only via elevator, played host to the likes of Gaslamp Killer, Marshall Barnes, EMU, and Camo UFOs.  The lounge-like room was a more intimate affair with only about 50 audience member, most likely due to the difficulty in finding it.  Those loyal 50 were treated to a mysterious “special guest” on the bill who was revealed to be an unmasked Deadmau5.  Following Gaslamp Killer’s selection of “Everything in Its Right Place,” Deadmau5 kicked things off with Peaches’ “Fuck The Pain Away” and a mash-up of Madcon’s “Beggin’” and Amy Winehouse’s “You Know I’m No Good” before moving on to an impressive display of breakbeat manipulation.  He showcased his penchant for creating brutal and complex synchopations, performing what amounted to a Buddy Rich-style drum solo on the decks.  On the HARD Stage, sweaty bodies abounded to the sounds of Ali G, Destructo, Boy 8-Bit, Jack Beats, and Fake Blood.  Co-headliners/showstoppers Jack Beats captivated the audience with their surging, elastic basslines, shrill sonics, and unpredictable rhythms.  They dealt the crowd sheer brutality in the form of blistering beats.  At one point during one of their build-ups, they ran a sample beckoning the crowd to “get down”—as if anyone in the house needed instruction to do so.

—Amorn Bholsangngam

Download: The Deepsea Goes “There Is No Space”

(from Oraoneiroi out now on Transnational Debate)

Rock musicians in the late ’90s were preoccupied with making a soundtrack to the rapture that was surely right around the corner. But a decade or so later, we seem hell-bent on erasing the memory of that millennial fear—our faux-disco anthems merely celebrating the postponement of our annihilation, our cloying ballads dwelling on the melodrama of teenage lovers. So it’s particularly refreshing to hear the Deepsea Goes’ Oraoneiroi, a brash and belligerent reminder that times are as tense now—if not more so—than they were when Y2K loomed. This is music for burning buildings to the ground, smashing police car windows, and attacking anyone in sight. The eleven-track album is relentless. Melody takes a backseat to the visceral power and unhinged intensity of the two-piece, who could frighten the most hardcore of hardcore bands with their thunderous charge. Each song title begins with “There is No …” just in case the abrasiveness of their sound didn’t fully convey the fatalism.

—Amorn Bholsangngam

Download: Jel and Odd Nosdam “Afternoon Tune”

(from the XLR8R ‘Tune In An Afternoon’ session detailed here)

As Anticon’s resident beat maestros, Jel and Odd Nosdam have developed a great kinship over their love and mastery of crafting gritty but emotive instrumentals. Their beats convinced a new generation of kids that music without vocals isn’t necessarily always background music, but also established the perfect platform for the rhymes of their labelmates. This interview by Amorn Bholsangngam.

What do you like best about Low End Theory?
Jel: It’s a very cool spot where people who are interested in a certain sound can come and enjoy themselves. The L.A. beat scene has been catching some good publicity lately with Japan and Europe going crazy over Flying Lotus, so as a place, it’s come up as a whole. It’s good to have a place where producers can come and let loose by playing completely new beats. The focus is on producers getting off—not so much the MCs—which is rare. And there’s an environment here where you feel like you could get some constructive critiquing.
Odd Nosdam: It’s run by Daddy Kev, whom we’ve known for a long time, and it’s got some really dope resident DJs like D-Styles and Gaslamp Killer. The night is dedicated to beat heavy, bass heavy instrumental music played on a big banging sound system.
What’s most special about performing in L.A.?
Odd Nosdam: Playing L.A. is always a unique experience. There’s a strong fanbase for Anticon down here that isn’t quite matched elsewhere. The people that come out to our shows in L.A. seem to be much more dedicated and much more open than other cities. I think the style of music Anticon has become known for makes sense to kids here looking for forward thinking music.
Jel: I’m always exposed to lots of new stuff from the L.A. scene when I play here. I have a ton of old records, so I’m usually not consciously seeking out new music. But sometimes I’ll play with new people and they’ll blow me away in places like L.A. It’s one of the only ways I’m exposed to new music.
You’ve known each other for years—how complicated is your history with each other?
Odd Nosdam: It’s actually pretty simple. I’ve known him for eleven years, and we’ve collaborated in many ways. When I was playing with cLOUDDEAD, Jel played drums on the tour. Although I’m confident enough now in a live setting, Jel’s been playing live much longer, so I felt that he was someone that would be great to perform with, especially since most of our sets are improvised. Though we usually stick to a certain set of sounds, it comes out different all the time depending on the crowds and the atmosphere. We also have a weekly DJ set at the Missouri Lounge in Berkeley. Jel is a master of rhythm; I just try to stay on beat with him.
Jel: When I was living in Chicago, Doseone introduced me to Yoni [Wolf of Why?], and Dave [Odd Nosdam] was working with them in the studio. He had his Dr. Sample, and I brought my SP-1200. He was intrigued with my machine over his, and I showed him how to use it a bit. He always seemed to be around and watching whenever I made music. We collaborated on [Jel’s debut] Soft Money, but we’ve become close friends from living in the same area, starting with DJing together. DJing is what sparked us. The two of us are in sync when we’re DJing a set with one another, and we try to bring that feeling into our live set. I’m probably the person that works with him best because he might piss off other people who don’t communicate as well with him. I love his aesthetic; Nosdam is all about sound. So our friendship and similar interests in sound are what makes this combination good.
Where do you think music is headed in the 2010s?
Odd Nosdam: I can’t even figure out exactly what happened musically this past decade. I would like to see people getting back to hearing music on a record played on a good sound system instead of an iPod. The MP3—especially if it’s at a low bitrate—is the most compromised form; it’s not the way music was meant to be experienced. I’d like to also see the low end aspect of music being pushed. Ambient is going in an interesting direction, and I’ve been incorporating some drum ‘n’ bass elements into my music. I want to get back to putting stuff on beat because the sloppy, off beat stuff gives me a headache sometimes. A steady four-on-the-floor beat would be nice to hear again.
Jel: I think in the next decade, there’s going to be a giant regurgitation of the past—regardless of whether it’s pop, R&B, country, or rock and roll. It’s going to be the same thing. Like Revelations in the Bible, it’s always just a cycle—oversaturation of the same forms of music until they’ve exhausted their commercial potential for the time being. But there will always be hungry motherfuckers making creative shit and changing things that aren’t necessarily selling millions of records. There’s going to be a wider separation between creativity and business; business will always find a way to bastardize creativity. There will always be filthy rich singers and producers that make a bunch of money off the creative people. Lady Gaga will fall the fuck off, Justin Timberlake will get old and have colon cancer. There’s just too much red meat for the future. Nostradamus will come back, and the world will implode. There will be a resurgence of the Fat Boys in 2026.
What decade of music would you feel most at home in?
Jel: Feeling most at home in is one thing, but being intrigued is another. I would probably feel most at home in the ‘60s. There was so much music and creativity bursting from people at the time. From soul to rock to the drug-induced shit—although I don’t care too much about the drugs themselves—it’s a period that I would love to listen to and watch with my own ears and eyes. Maybe in the next few years, there’ll be a way of doing that. I would be intrigued with kicking it with George Clinton during his doo-wop phase or with Can in Germany. I would hang around with them in their church, looping tapes, jamming, and doing acid, although I’ve never done of that myself.
Odd Nosdam: I’d like to say the mid-‘70s in Jamaica—not that I would ever fit in—since some of the most amazing music that I connect with on a deep level was made during that time. The mid to late ‘60s, when people started doing exciting things in the studio and the birth of psychedelic music. Late ‘80s New York—if it wasn’t for hip-hop, I wouldn’t be in California talking to you right now.
If you could construct the perfect song out of elements from any of those decades, what would it be made out of?
Odd Nosdam: I would have drums from the first Meters record, some blown out, fuzzy guitars from Flying Saucer Attack, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry mixing it, and Prince Paul fucking around with the faders.
Jel: Moondog would compose the orchestration, Tony Allen on drums, James Brown can conduct and be one of the backing vocalists but not the lead. And I’d put Tim Dog up front.

JEL AND ODD NOSDAM ON WED., JAN. 20, AT LOW END THEORY AT THE AIRLINER, 2419 N. BROADWAY, LOS ANGELES. 10PM / $10 GUESTS / $5 MEMBERS / 18+. LOWENDTHEORYCLUB.COM. AND ON FRI., JAN. 22, AT THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF CALLING ALL KIDS AT HYPERION TAVERN, 1941 HYPERION AVE., SILVER LAKE. 9 PM / FREE / ALL AGES. HYPERIONTAVERN.COM. VISIT JEL AT MYSPACE.COM/JELANTICON AND ODD NOSDAM AT MYSPACE.COM/NOSDAM.

Download: Múm – “Sing Along”

(from Sing Along to Songs You Don’t Know, out now on Morr Music)

Múm have always maintained a joyous, childlike quality despite the sophistication of their music, which taps into that sense of wonder that characterizes the greatest of Walt Disney’s creations.  It’s glitchtronica for the miniatures inside a snow globe to groove along with!  On Sing Along to Songs You Don’t Know, the Icelandic troupe continues to craft songs that capture the wide-eyed hopefulness of youth while displaying an impressive proficiency for intricate rhythms and grandiose arrangements.  The album exists in a perpetual winter, evoking the awe of beholding snow-capped mountains for the first time.  Swelling strings, delicately picked classical guitars, and jovial glockenspiel loops lie atop a foundation of shuffling beats produced both acoustically and electronically.  Their multi-tracked harmonies could be easily mistaken for door-to-door carolers fiending for a fix of figgy pudding.  The melodies somehow sound both wistful and cinematic, intimate moments blown up to epic proportions by Múm’s penchant for rousing musical backdrops, sometimes (as with the song “Show Me”) pairing dense walls of vocal harmonies with skittering drums to create a majestic splendor.  And the title track sounds like the theme to The Nutcracker on steroids, augmented by fuzzed-out guitars, relentless drum-machine blips, and blissful staccatos.  At first listen, you may not know the songs on Sing Along, but you’ll recognize the familiar feeling of curling up next to the fireplace hoping that Santa doesn’t suffer first-degree burns.

-Amorn Bholsangngam

The duo first appeared on stage bathed in foggy purple light.  Torbjorn Brundtland was dressed in a lab coat as he manned the decks, a mad scientist intent on pushing the limits of the venue’s sound system.  Keyboardist/vocoder extraordinaire Svein Berge appeared to have constructed his outfit from pieces of clothing found at yard sales held by Brandon Flowers and the Knife; the winglike tassels that lined his sleeves flailed wildly as he gleefully bashed his condensed drum kit.  They were joined by a live bass player and singer Anneli Drecker, a striking Scandinavian siren who led the crowd in song and dance.  A featured vocalist on the group’s latest release Junior, Drecker also ably covered the vocal parts belonging to the Knife’s Karin Dreijer Andersson.  Her on-stage theatrics, especially her spazzed out gyrations, provided the crowd with a great point of focus when the principal pair’s heads were buried in their equipment.

The show opened with a grandiose, mid-tempo instrumental performed by only Brundtland and Berge, evoking a mild sway from the audience that was hardly the type of crowd reaction you would expect at a techno show.  However, as soon as the syncopated bass throb of “The Must Be It” exploded from the sound system, the ground began to shake from the massive number of feet two-stepping to the beat.  Wasting no time in winning over the more casual Royksopp listeners in the audience, they launched into an energetic rendition of “Remind Me,” which reminded all attending motorists to switch their car insurance to Geico.  Drecker and Berge took turns commanding the stage and working the crowd into a frenzy with the assistance of a stunning light show that could rival Pikachu in its seizure-inducing powers.  Swedish ‘90s pop tart turned 21st century electro diva Robyn made a warmly received guest appearance reprising her part on “The Girl and the Robot,” strutting back and forth with the swagger of a veteran superstar.  Following her performance, Brundtland repeatedly exclaimed her name as though the strobe lights got the best of him, reflecting the state of excitement that she left the audience in.  The satisfied crowd was surprisingly reverent enough not to shout out requests for “Show Me Love,” knowing damn well that Robyn wouldn’t have to sing the song to convince the audience to do just that for Royksopp.

—Amorn Bholsangngam

Fortunately for her, a sector of Los Angeles that appreciates the way Spektor merges her idiosyncratic vocal and lyrical styles with a penchant for writing strong pop melodies filed into the Greek Theatre for her second show in the area in three months.  There was not a single Quizno’s uniform in sight on this chilly night, on which the clear skies and bustling wind made for a dramatic atmosphere suitable for Spektor’s dramatic performance.  Spektor, looking like she dressed in her Little Bo Peep costume a few days too early (but adorable nonetheless), took to her grand piano backed by a string quartet and famed session drummer Matt Chamberlin.

I was startled to find that within the first few words of set opener “The Calculation,” she had unwittingly gained hundreds of additional backup singers.  The scattered, mostly female voices of fans singing along accompanied Spektor as she belted out her quirky lyrics and swayed along to airtight beats provided by Chamberlin.  It was a sight of Lillith Fair proportions; the sense of female empowerment surging through the crowd was enough to make anyone break into an impromptu “Single Ladies” dance (no one did).  The audience laughed accordingly to some of Spektor’s clever lyrical twists, which left me wondering if her studio recordings would benefit from having a canned laugh track. They did seem funnier to me live than on record.  The Russian-born songstress passionately tore through several selections from her latest Far, as well as favorites from her breakthrough record Begin to Hope, switching from piano to keyboard to electric guitar.  Perhaps the most poignant moment of the show came when Spektor abandoned all instruments to perform “Silly Eye-Color Generalizations,” an unreleased acapella number that completely silenced the crowd.  Her powerful voice flawlessly carried the tune, which was heartbreaking and whimsical at once, and would make even the greatest skeptic believe that no one could do it quite like her.  The music-listening public may have varying opinions on Regina Spektor’s music, but that is one thing they should agree on—she’s one of a kind.

—Amorn Bholsangngam

Gone was the slight quiver in their voices; there was absolutely no trace of the timid deliberation of their performances on And Then Nothing….  This was a confident band that sounded like they could compete with My Bloody Valentine in offering the most sonically visceral experiences in concert.  Ira Kaplan and James McNew alternated playing keys, guitar, and bass—the two wreaking havoc on whatever instrument was in front of them.  During “Periodically Triple or Double,” an uncharacteristically funky standout from the recently released Popular Songs, Kaplan played what may have been the most sinister, ear-piercing organ solo I have ever heard.  Georgia Hubley pounded propulsive beats with reckless abandon while maintaining a great degree of finesse.  Each member contributed their unique vocal stylings to the set while often harmonizing to genuinely gorgeous results.

Yo La Tengo also demonstrated how incredibly dynamic their band can be, with sections of the show ranging from long-form ambient noise pieces to summery pop tunes to a tender acoustic mini-set.  Watching Kaplan and McNew joyously manipulating the swelling sounds of their keyboards and guitars with heavy delays and effects processors was oddly engaging, although the crowd arguably responded most enthusiastically to their string of acoustic numbers.  The intimate, quietly powerful songs featured McNew on the 12-string acoustic, Kaplan playing chorused out guitar leads, and Hubley challenging Mo Tucker for the title of best singing female drummer in rock.  Popular Songs’ “If It’s True”—a sugary Kaplan/Hubley duet that unapologetically borrows its intro from The Four Tops’ “Sugar Pie Honey Bunch”—was introduced as the most “straightforward pop song [they’ve] ever written.”  Before launching into it, an audience member implored the band to play more fuzzed out jams, to which Kaplan responded, “We’ll get around to the noise later.”  Only a veteran band as self-assured as Yo La Tengo could cover such a wide spectrum of stylistic approaches without losing the patience and adoration of their audience.

—Amorn Bholsangngam

Download: Triorganico “Tempo De Amor”

(from Convivencia out now on Now Again)

Triorganico’s debut effort Convivencia is—simply put—a work of remarkable beauty. The trio trades in highly emotive bossa-tinged instrumentals that are equally capable of taking listeners on a trip down the coasts of South America and invoking deep introspection. Transcendent finger-picked tropical guitar, colorful woodwinds and tastefully light Latin percussion are the core musical elements of the group. A wonderful sense of gorgeous melancholy and delightful uplift permeates the record; arpeggiated minor guitar chords anchor the melody while the sounds of congas, muted ride cymbals, saxophones and flutes provide playful accents. Triorganico manages to achieve that improbable balance between dark and light tones while still maintaining the vibrancy and looseness of their music. The fine musicianship of each member is well represented here. “Correndo” showcases guitarist Fabiano de Nascimento’s virtuosity in playing Spanish rhythms with the emotional poignancy of folk music. “After Thought” finds woodwind specialist Pablo Calogero coaxing heartbreaking melodies from his sax while percussionist Ricardo “Tiki” Pasillas ratchets up the urgency and intensity of the piece with his rhythmic touch. Convivencia allows listeners to finally eavesdrop on these three masterful players engaging in a passionate musical conversation.

—Amorn Bholsangngam