Oh! The show part was really good too. Yo La took a few minutes and came back out as Condo Fucks to play a couple of songs, including the awesome “With a Girl Like You,” originally by the Troggs. After a second, kind of long intermission, they came back for a mishmash set of Yo La Tengo classics both new and old. They started with a few laid-back numbers, like I Am Not Afraid of You and I Can Beat Your Ass’s “I Feel Like Going Home” and a gorgeous acoustic version of “Black Flowers.” Highlights from the band’s many years together dotted the set, generally funkier and more psychedelic than on disc, from “Autumn Sweater” to “Tom Courtenay” to the second version of Painful’s “Big Day Coming.” Openers The Urinals returned to play two songs as a megaband, which was cool and unexpected, although I would have rather heard more Yo La Tengo or a punk version of a YLT song. Overall it wasn’t the kind of greatest-hits set some fans may have hoped for, and you could quibble over song choice (No “If It’s True” or “Avalon Or Someone Very Similar” from the band’s newest album, Popular Songs? Por qué no?) but it showed a band who’s willing to change things up to keep things unpredictable.

—Billy Gil

Julian Casablancas’ distinctive voice makes it difficult to avoid comparisons between his solo project and that other band he’s in, The Strokes. A heavier emphasis on electronic instrumentation and a slightly wider stylistic range than The Strokes’ dance floor-ready garage rock saves the effort from being a placeholder between Strokes albums.

In the next tent over, sylph Charlotte Gainsbourg impressed with songs that alternated between lilting, Belle & Sebastian-esque romps and harder tracks with bowing guitar riffs and ominous-sounding samples as percussion. The influence of producer/mixer/co-writer Beck is heavily apparent to fans of his work, and one wonders how it would be appropriate to dole out credit for Gainsbourg’s sound.

Spoon took the Coachella stage just as Gainsbourg’s set was ending. The Austin darlings injected their sort of pretty fare with a little more grit in the live version, while Sly delivered his first disappointment of the night when it was announced to gathered fans that his set would be pushed back a full two hours, at least. The news was greeted with boos and mumbled expressions of dashed hope, “I knew it.”

Phoenix and Infected Mushroom were there to pick up the pieces, before Pavement took over with an enthusiastic, jangly tribute to their past. All the aural and visual assaults of the past two and a half days made the contrast between the spectacle and Pavement’s homey performance lit by ropes of bare lightbulbs all the more drastic, but the simplicity of their show was also its strength, even though, as LA Font frontman Danny Bobbe put it, they were “the worst-dressed band at Coachella.” It can be mildly disappointing when your idols turn out to be dorks.

Thom Yorke took the reins just as Pavement ended, and treated tired concertgoers to over an hour-long set. Alas, they were not to rest. Yorke’s solo effort cum all-star band, Atoms for Peace, interspersed slow jams and the occasional Radiohead nod (“Pyramid Song”) with beats so dance-worthy even Yorke couldn’t hold himself back from losing himself in an eyes closed, unabashed, Flashdance-style multi-song dance party, priming the dwindling crowd for Gorillaz merciless final onslaught of beats so good you can’t sit still.

They opened with the Snoop Dogg track from collaboration-heavy new album, Plastic Beach. Snoop spoke to us in one of his pimpalicious getups, projected across three giant screens behind the stage with the caption “GORILLAZ” on each, just in case you forgot. Little Dragon singer Yukimi Nagano, who performed Friday night with Dragon, was conveniently available for a cameo on the trippy “Empire Ants,” a track that sounds like ripples in the glassy water at a tropical robot beach at sunset.

Sly disappointed fans again by engaging in his now infamous shenanigans – basically involving different iterations of not being able or willing to perform because he is too incoherent due to the abuse of one substance or another. After staggering through a few songs, Sly stumbled off stage in the wrong direction and had to be led off by security.

As much as the heat and the gross bathrooms and trash and expensive food and constant hordes of moving people can irritate, Coachella is a jumping off point for all different kinds of acts. Bands of middling popularity in the U.S. or those that are completely unknown here come to announce themselves. Several years running have seen well-loved veterans kick off highly anticipated reunion tours or do one-off performances just because they can. Bands come here with balls out and hearts on their sleeves, and those willing to suffer through a little sweat and dirt and, I admit, a relatively heft price tag for one weekend of shows, invariably walk away excited and invigorated by all the incredible music that’s being made.

Concert Stage Path:
Coachella (Yo La Tengo)  Mojave (Julian Casablancas)  Gobi (Charlotte Gainsbourg)  Coachella (Spoon)  Gobi (Sly Stone)  Sahara (Infected Mushroom) - Outdoor (Phoenix)  Coachella (Pavement)  Outdoor (Thom Yorke)  Coachella (Gorillaz)

—Ayse Arf

Download: Princeton “Calypso Gold”

(from Cocoon of Love available now from Kanine)

You think Ivy League or tennis rackets when you see the word ‘Princeton,’ but the Eagle Rock-based band isn’t named after the school. The fact that twins Matt (a one-time L.A. RECORD writer, too!) and Jesse Kivel, Ben Usen, and David Kitz made some songs about famous dead writers has only fueled more crazy assumptions that they’re both creative and smart. It can only help them get girls, which means heartache, which means more material to translate into their signature string-and-synth pop. This interview by Daiana Feuer.

You’ve been tagged as a literary band since the Bloomsbury EP was about early 20th-century intellectuals. How would you compare the experiences of books and music?
Matt Kivel (bass/vocals): Looking at a painting of a mountain—a photo, a film, all of a mountain and writing a song or book about a mountain—they can describe the same thing but the beauty of these different mediums is they do it in different ways. What’s interesting is you can convey nuances of the same object using different mediums. In music, melody and mood and texture create a much more immediate reaction in a person’s mind. You can feel a certain way and you don’t have to think about it. That’s one of the greatest things about music. When you read a book it takes a lot more of you. You have to put more of yourself in it—into the characters. When a book is made into a film it’s always a surprise how that person visualized the character. Another difference is with music—if you enjoy it you wanna experience it over again. A book, I maybe feel like reading it once or twice, but it isn’t something I wanna spend a lot of time with. Actually I don’t think there’s anything similar about them at all. The overlap is all superficial. You can cover the same terrain, the same theme, but the overall effect and the way the medium transports the person is different and that’s what makes both of them relevant art forms.
Bloomsbury was inspired by the writers, but what book would you like to make a soundtrack for?
Matt Kivel: That sounds like a neat idea. I think the best way to go would be to do something a little more poetic so you could have lyrical inspiration to draw from. Who would be good for that? John Cale did something like that with Dylan Thomas—it was poems and prose. Jesse says American Psycho. I would do The Sound and the Fury if I had a large enough budget. There’s a lot of complexity to it and lots of perspective and that would be fun to make a soundtrack about.
What was the last fight you had with your brother Jesse?
Matt Kivel: That’s easy because it was a day ago. We’re getting some shoes and then what happened was basically me and Jesse have some side projects and I took a photograph at a site that Jesse wasn’t planning that I’d know about. And so we had a big argument about that and it lasted for a while. Not very interesting but we fight often enough. [And they do a little, before this interview is over.]
The whole band grew up in Santa Monica. Were you always friends?
Matt Kivel: Jesse, Ben and I were good friends growing up—but we did know of David. We were friends with his sister because she was in our grade. He was in the same Hebrew school and high school as us, except not elementary school, so we go back pretty far.
Are kids that grow up in Santa Monica saved from the ‘born and raised in L.A.’ affliction?
Matt Kivel: A lot of wealthy people live in Santa Monica and a lot of those kids are raised a certain way. In Hollywood—also wealthy—the kids are raised a certain way. Then there’s the ‘less wealthy.’ The wealthier kids’ influence is pervasive. They’re noticeable. It draws very strong distinctions at school. But it’s not necessarily a personality thing. There are dicks and nice people and that’s the way it is. I think Hollywood and Santa Monica might as well be the same place. People who grow up in Los Angeles usually go from one extreme to another.
How did the environment influence what you do now?
Matt Kivel: When we were young, me and Jesse weren’t that interested in being in any form of scenes or cliques. We were really wrapped up in imaginative ideas and we’d get our friends to do elaborate projects, whether it be film or music or making up some game. There was a strange sort of reality that in a way has carried on. I think it’s become more socially accepted for us to do it now. We found a way to make it more socially accepted that when we were younger was considered weird—doing strange projects at our house. Like getting wasted, there were a lot of drugs and alcohol in our school and parties and things but for whatever reason we were not really a part of that. Although Ben and David were definitely more a part of that!
Did you decide to do a Hannukah concert this past December to balance out all the Christmas shows?
Matt Kivel: Yo La Tengo does a Hannukah show so that’s why we thought it was a good idea. They do it so successfully every year. They were inspirational. There’s a lack of overt Judaism in rock music. We’re a band that is not particularly religious but culturally we are Jewish so it’s interesting to try and talk about that. People in the type of music we do, it’s something people don’t talk or think about. We like holidays. We did a Thanksgiving show one year but that was borderline offensive so I don’t know if we’ll do that again. We did a Halloween show. We’ve done all kinds, come to think of it. We like to celebrate the holidays and somehow integrate that into what we’re doing. It’s festive!
Not being religious, how would you describe what it means to be Jewish?
Matt Kivel: I can’t tell anyone why it’s important to be Jewish or any religion. I am not that attracted to the idea of religion. The Jewish religion is unique because it’s more cultural—it’s like an ethnicity. Most who identify with Judaism identify it that way. We have a distinct culture and influence and that’s something important to identify with. It’s unique. Everyone is raised in a household, with traditions, things you don’t think about, it’s part of your life. We enjoy certain elements of our culture and we’re not ashamed to eat bagels or anything like that. I think the world has had its up and downs with Jewish people but deep down I think they like us.
Cocoon of Love has been described as a collection of memory bits from past romances. Based on what you’ve experienced, what do you know about love?
Matt Kivel: Man, these are some profound questions. I think I have been in love one time in my life and that’s really all that I know about aside from watching films. It’s an interesting point because in those art forms there’s a perfecting of reality—that love can have this quality where it’s unambiguously positive or negative. But the truth is that love is a totally ambiguous emotion. It can mean so many things and have so many conflicting emotions in it. ‘Love’ is a word that may not even be a good word for people to use. The word is fine, but the connotation implies something that is not even real: ‘Love that lasts forever.’ I don’t know if that’s necessarily true. It’s not a sad thought, but we should think about it. If you will be married for 50 or 60 years, people get old and ugly and lose limbs and get growths on their eyeballs—it’s hard to keep loving someone. I am not saying you shouldn’t get married, but the idea that marriage should last forever is a strange thing. It doesn’t really make sense. Society sees it as a rule. Divorce is still seen as something negative. —But I am young. I don’t know anything. I’ve had one meaningful relationship. Can you ask me in 30 years?
For something less profound, what’s the best bodily function to make jokes about?
Matt Kivel: Ha! This is the most candid interview I’ve ever done. Obviously farting would be the number one bodily function to make jokes about. [Brief argument with brother.] The other people in the van are trying to censor me. It’s funny because it makes a funny sound and it stinks. Especially in an environment where it’s almost impossible.

PRINCETON IN RESIDENCY EVERY MONDAY IN FEBRUARY AT SPACELAND, 1717 SILVERLAKE BLVD., SILVER LAKE. 9 PM / FREE / 21+. CLUBSPACELAND.COM. L.A. RECORD PRESENTS PRINCETON WITH CASXIO, RAFTER AND THE JUBILEE SINGERS ON MON., FEB. 8, AT SPACELAND. PRINCETON’S COCOON OF LOVE IS OUT NOW ON KANINE. VISIT PRINCETON AT PRINCETON-BAND.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/PRINCETONMUSIC.

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: Yo La Tengo “Periodically Double Or Triple”

(from Popular Songs out now on Matador)

Entire island ecosystems arise, corrupt, decay and disappear within the generous lifespan of Yo La Tengo, the New Jersey three-piece who reinvent endlessly what an independent American rock band is supposed to do—play Flamin’ Groovies songs in heaven, for instance. Guitarist/singer Ira Kaplan speaks very early in the morning. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

Is that Onion article about the record store clerks dying at the Yo La Tengo concert when the roof collapses the pinnacle of everything that’s ever been written about Yo La Tengo?
Ira Kaplan (vocals/guitar): That was pretty great. It’s hard to imagine anything else that was written about us once you bring that one up. I don’t know if you heard the story but we played at a party for The Onion later that year. They asked us to play at their Christmas party and they offered us some money, but there was no way it was going to be the amount of money that we normally get paid. We told them, ‘Look, we don’t do everything based on the dollar sign—we don’t even care about the money. What we’d like to do is re-enact the story—that’s what we really want.’ So what we ended up doing was we tweaked it some. It took a bit to convince them but then we really got into it and dived in. We ended up setting up fake rigging on the stage so that late in the set all the power and the PA flickered and then the fake stage rigging collapsed on us and killed us. And we had six people dressed as medics—with really hackneyed white coats and those reflector things—run in with stretchers and carry us off dead.
This is colossally elaborate. This actually happened in real life?
Ira Kaplan: Yeah, and it was so elaborate that I’m not even done yet. Then we changed into angel costumes and returned and played one more song.
What song does Yo La Tengo play in heaven?
Ira Kaplan: We decided to do the Flamin’ Groovies—‘You Tore Me Down.’
What’s it like getting ready for those legendary covers marathons on WFMU?
Ira Kaplan: It depends on the year because there was one year we were out of town—I guess we must have been at SXSW or something—and we went straight from the airport to FMU because the scheduling. What that mostly does is it kind of reminds us that we are capable of playing a lot of songs that we’ve never thought of playing before and it reminds us also to watch each other. One of the big things about doing that is to try to know when to stop—you don’t have to do all three verses.
Which also applies to life in general.
Ira Kaplan: That’s one of the attractions of doing this—it reminds us there’s a lot of life lessons in it.
How well does the Yo La Tengo experience serve as a microcosmic analogue for the entire human experience?
Ira Kaplan: I think that’s for other people to, ah …
People have asked you that way too much.
Ira Kaplan: Yeah, that’s right.
What are the legal procedures necessary to play and release an Electric Eels song?
Ira Kaplan: I don’t know how serious a question that is but one of the things about covering songs is you can record and cover any song you want on a record. You don’t need permission, you just have to pay for it. And it’s not a negotiable rate. There’s just an established rate of what it costs to cover an established song. The only thing you can’t do is if you’ve written a song that hasn’t ever been recorded—then the writer maintains the right of how it’s first recorded but after that you can cover it as long as the royalty is paid.
So they were helpless before you?
Ira Kaplan: We got a nice email from Brian McMahon—we were very impressed. There’s been a lot of the artists who’ve been ‘immortalized’ on Fuckbook that have contacted us. We’ve heard from Richard Hell and we’re friendly with the Flamin’ Groovies, but it’s pretty cool. We heard from a guy in Florida who did a version of ‘What’cha Gonna Do About It’—we didn’t know about it until he wrote to us, but it’s been a perk we weren’t expecting. We keep hoping every day that Felix Cavaliere will be sending us e-mails, but so far not yet.
How satisfied are you with the way that Yo La Tengo has made your fondest rock ‘n’ roll dreams come true?
One of the questions that we do get asked is, ‘Who would you like to play with and what haven’t you accomplished yet?’—stuff like that—and we tend to just sidestep it. Obviously, when we do the Chanukah shows and we actively seek out people to play with us there is some kind of planning involved, but I will say completely that when we recorded Fuckbook we weren’t at all thinking, ‘This way the Electric Eels will write to us.’ Things like that just kind of happen without thinking about them—it’s great.
What’s the significance of having a sculpture made of human bone and trinitite from the first atomic bomb test on your album cover?
Ira Kaplan: Trinitite? I don’t think I looked that far into it—I don’t even know what that is. We didn’t delve that deeply into it to be completely honest. We were just so taken by the image and we stopped reading after ‘human bone.’
Two of the 20th century’s biggest gifts to the world were rock ‘n’ roll and the atomic bomb—can we make a connection between the two?
Ira Kaplan: I wish I could say yes and it’s one of the reasons I wish that I didn’t have to do interviews sometimes. I think that’s one of the best things about being obsessed with—well, probably anything—but in my case and probably your case, being obsessed with music. It sets the mind racing and the aspect of the interview process that short-circuits that is a pity. The idea that you’re making that connection is amazing to me and it’s too bad that I have to come along and say, ‘Nah, never thought about it.’
We can use this interview to generate some mysteries if you want.
Ira Kaplan: I’m still connected to a lie detector, so the best I can do is be evasive.
You’re lucky you’re not connected to a nuclear device.
Ira Kaplan: Yeah.
So what do you think is the biggest connection between rock ‘n’ roll and the threat of nuclear war?
Ira Kaplan: Wow. I can’t—you’re three hours earlier, it’s too early for me to answer that. I don’t know. It is an interesting thing when people look back on that time. It’s funny how that aspect of it—how scary it must have been living and really believing that nuclear annihilation was around the corner. It does make me look at the fury with which people deal with each other today and think, ‘Man, you have no clue.’ And the thing that’s so frustrating is that most of those people—I’m a proud member of the left wing, so I’ll focus my ire on Fox News right now—but those people are old enough to know better. And it’s frustrating to look at these people who really know that things are so much better right now in that regard and to just rile people up the way they do is pretty sad and dishonest.
Stan Lee says do all your artistic work standing up and that way you won’t get a potbelly. Do you agree?
Ira Kaplan: We do quite a bit of our work standing up.
That’s where I assume you get your trim physique.
Ira Kaplan: Exactly right. You can’t tell because the stage is so high, but we’re actually all on treadmills while we’re performing.
What key are your treadmills in?
Ira Kaplan: As big Terry Riley fans, we’re in C.
Do you have any special insight into the American economy through the lens of Yo La Tengo?
Ira Kaplan: Sometimes it’s hard to tell because we’re only seeing it through our eyes. We just finished a tour and …
Were people no longer throwing hundred dollar bills at you?
Ira Kaplan: The serious answer is that attendance at the shows wasn’t as good as it had been the last time we’d gone out. Now that could be because people are less interested in seeing us or it could be because the economy is changed. We get some data but we’re not quite sure how to interpret it. We naturally want to blame the economy and not our dwindling appeal.
So as the Republican Party’s fortunes fade, so fades Yo La Tengo?
Ira Kaplan: We’re fighting against it—fighting the tide.
We’re having a minor staff debate about ‘Pass the Hatchet, I Think I’m Goodkind.’ Is that a nod to Black Randy or Eddie Bo?
Ira Kaplan: Luckily, it doesn’t have to be one or the other.
What does it say about me that I thought it was Black Randy?
Ira Kaplan: Well, you don’t hear me saying, ‘Who?’

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Download: Yo La Tengo “Here To Fall”

(off Popular Songs out Sept 8th on Matador Records)

Paranoid Cocoon seems to announce itself as a rock and roll album, opening with “Up a Tree (Went This Heart I Have),” a tune that pairs frontman Michael Nau’s throaty vocals over a thick, bluesy baseline. Quickly, though, the song itself, and then the whole album, gradually evolves into something different, whirring off into turrets of ambient, kaleidoscopic sound. In “Up a Tree,” the tension between the tight, rhythmic, rock and roll sound, and a diffuse trippiness is engaging. Throughout the album, the band often discards and then returns to this tension in favor of long ambles down psychedelic pathways lined with brushed percussion, prolonged leans into an organ, and synthetic keyboard sounds.

The Cotton Jones live experience was quite different, probably because the band found it difficult to match the plush reverberation that is achievable with a studio set-up. Songs like “Blood Red Sentimental Blues” were only tweaked slightly, but the difference was remarkable. Without the echo chamber quality of the studio, Michael Nau and Whitney’s McGraw’s contrasting vocals (he a husky Jim Morrison, she the delicate siren of a 1950’s radio program) rang clear and true, allowing pretty turns of phrase—like “I heard it in the garbage can, in every piece of trash, you better color up my heart again, I’m afraid it’s turning black”—their due.

In concert, songs like “Cotton and Velvet” and “Gotta Cheer Up” also sharpened their melancholy. On album, “Cotton and Velvet” is the auditory equivalent of a heroin high, a feeling not discouraged by its title, or by beautiful, non-sequitur lyrics like “my tongue on the ocean, made me feel all numb” and “the poet barks.” In concert, however, you might actually be inclined to question Nau’s statement that “there was no sadness, and nothing was wrong.” The mournful call of a steel guitar was more distinguishably audible, and the feeling of being stranded alone inside your own desert more distilled.

One highlight was an expanded version of “Some Strange Rain,” simply announced by Nau as “a love song.” Like many other Cotton Jones songs, it substitutes its own unique narrative structure for the traditional verse/chorus/bridge. In the case of “Some Strange Rain,” the progression through long instrumental sections, alternating with free-form verse, what sounds like but never turns out to be a harmonied chorus, and a solo guitar bridge, gives one the feeling of several songs cobbled together. It’s an apt sentiment for a song whose lyrics travel the long distance of a relationship, from “I got me standing in the rain, well here we go again,” to what sounds to be a shot-gun wedding at the end of the song, with the intriguing, “Come yesterday, I had no love for cats, I had no words for cats, but I love Kat,” sandwiched somewhere in the middle. The piecemeal song had all logic of love itself, but also all of the charm.

The concert version of “Some Strange Rain” encapsulated everything both exciting and frustrating about Cotton Jones’ style. Their willingness to wander down new musical avenues, peeking into any door that catches their interest, means the sacrifice of an integrated form in favor of a playfulness that is sometimes meandering. It’s a worthy trade-off, and one that leaves space for the fresh promise of innovation in Cotton Jones’ future work.

—Tara Everhart

Download: Yo La Tengo “Periodically Double Or Triple”

(off Popular Songs out  Sept 8th on Matador Records)

—Thomas McMahon