Andrew Bird (at Radio City Music Hall)

Nothing says "whimsy" to me more than the music of Andrew Bird. "Brilliance" also comes to mind. And his show at Radio City Music Hall was nothing short of brilliant. Each piece was crafted in layers (of both violin and whistling!) and slightly reinterpreted from the recording. With each song entrance, it took a few moments — a sort of musical trivia game — to figure out which song he was launching. And satisfaction of the epiphany, the swell of excitement with the moment of recognition ... well it was such a wonderful way to experience a concert.

CONSUMED: Radio City Music Hall; 1260 6th Ave, Midtown (Manhattan)

MJ tribute

So it's already clichéd to post a tribute to Michael Jackson. But you know what? He fuckin' deserves this praise, even if it's being done posthumously. What's even more awesome? People are remembering Michael for his peerless brilliance and not for any of the shit that has gone down in the past 15 or so years. Michael, wherever you are, know that you touched so many, and that you have left us with an incredible legacy that we will be proud and honoured to parade until the end of our history.

CONSUMED: various bars and walking the streets of Brooklyn

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P.S. Apologies for my failure to blog over the past couple days. I could say I was all torn up about Michael's death, but really I've just been very distracted. Anyway, I will try to do better in the future.
P.P.S. Best Xmas album ever (and my favourite memory of MJ) = the Jackson 5 Christmas. Oh shit, maybe I'm giving away a future post....

East West Quintet (at Joe's Pub)

One of the kids that I know from Brooklyn is a musician. A real bonafide musician. It blows me away, actually, that people can indeed make it on their talent in this outrageously expensive city. Simon pays the bills with Broadway show gigs and giving guitar lessons; but his real deal is his band, East West Quintet.

So I was extremely proud to be there when Simon's band put on their CD release show at Joe's Pub. It was the tightest I've ever heard them play, and they seriously packed the place. Even more impressive is how these guys self-released their new album after their label went belly-up. It just goes to show how invested these kids are to their craft.

CONSUMED: Joe's Pub; 425 Lafayette St, NoHo (Manhattan)

Grizzly Bear (at Town Hall)

What can I say about Grizzly Bear after the critics have completely lathered on the praise? I will say this: who chooses "other plans" over a Grizzly Bear show? Well apparently several of Nitin's friends did, which is how I ended up with a ticket to their Town Hall concert. I will also say this: I am having a hard time NOT listening to that album, especially after being blown away at their show, which was so tight musically, and so stunning visually. They are slowly but surely climbing my top artists list.

CONSUMED: Town Hall; 123 W 43rd St, Midtown (Manhattan)

Francis and the Lights (at the Bowery Ballroom)

When Francis came out and started to dance along to his music, I couldn't help but feel a bit awkward. Because he was awkward; his dancing was awkward; I felt awkward for him and his lack of communion with the crowd. But strangely, as the night went on, I stopped thinking about how weird the whole situation was and started thinking about how courageous he was to pull that off. And then soon, combined with his unbelievably catchy tunes (all of which felt somehow familiar, as if they were old friends whose names I had forgotten), I was willing him to dance more, to show me what other spirits he held inside. Not to mention that I was dancing too.

CONSUMED: The Bowery Ballroom; 6 Delancey St, Nolita (Manhattan)

Old Man Luedecke :: Proof of Love

Listen folks. Of all the music-listening "advice" that I ever egotistically post on this blog, if I had to choose for you just one artist that I want you to listen to, then this is it.

I am not joking. He changed my life. (OK well Sufjan changed my life too. But he's not who I'm referring to.)

Old Man Luedecke is the pseudonym of Chris Luedecke, a quick-fingered banjo player that hails from that dear coastal province of Nova Scotia. His music touches my heart so that when I heard it for the first time, I was quick to ask my friend who it was. Then the second time I heard it, months and miles away from that first exposure, I asked my hosts (already knowing the answer), "Is this Old Man Luedecke?"

Maybe it's because that first time was during an impromptu Haligonian waffle party or maybe it's because bluegrass (and banjoes) go so well with brunch, but I can't stop myself from putting him on when I'm slicing bread for the toaster or whisking eggs to be scrambled. Not to mention that the refrain from his song "The Joy of Cooking" (see his myspace page) goes, in 10-person harmony, "If I'm not mistaken / The answer's bacon!" With sunlight pouring in through the window and a large cup of coffee in my hand, I forget about my endless to-do lists and live between the plucking of those strings.

CONSUMED:
First time: Capp's apartment in Halifax
Second time: Brendan and Garity's apartment in Bay Ridge (Brooklyn)

La Rondine (at the Met Opera)

Never did I think that I would sit in the 9th row (orchestra) of the Met Opera. And yet I did, thanks to Katie and the MetOpera weekend ticket draws. We went to see Puccini's "La Rondine" (which recently got a mention in NY Magazine's "Approval Matrix") and I gaped all the way through the first act. Opera has been one of those classical art forms that I have yet to fully embrace. And perhaps to my disservice, some of my first opera experiences involved 12.5 hours of Ring-series Wagner, sitting in the last possible row of the Met Opera House. So this time, when I got to engage not only musically but visually, with facial expressions and costumes and set details all accessible without the use of binoculars, well I can honestly say that I can understand why one might pay premium prices for those seats. Here's to more opera in my life.

CONSUMED: La Rondine; The Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center; Upper West Side (Manhattan)

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For all those that use feed readers, sorry for the busted feed over past few days. I think I figured out what was wrong. And to everyone else: feel free to start using the RSS feeds there on the right!

top 10 albums of 2008

I decided my first post of the year was going to be a reflective one. But don't worry, I won't be writing you a cautionary tale on how 2008 was the beginning of the end, or a didactic on how to turn your life around from lessons learned over the past year. No no, what I wanted to do, rather, was the extremely egotistical exercise of listing my top ten albums of 2008. Especially since I spent a bit of time scouring my iTunes play counts in order to figure out whether there was an objective way to come up with this list. And I think I've got it. So with no further ado (also can I mention how pleased that 8 of the 10 artists are Canadian?):

1. Land of Talk :: Some Are Lakes
   
2. Ra Ra Riot :: The Rhumb Line
   
3. Wintersleep :: Welcome to the Night Sky
   
4. Old Man Luedecke :: Proof Of Love
   
5. Basia Bulat :: Oh, My Darling
   
6. Shad :: The Old Prince
   
7. Wolf Parade :: At Mount Zoomer
   
8. Beirut :: The Flying Cup Club
   
9. The Stolen Minks :: High Kicks
   
10. Chad VanGaalen :: Soft Airplane

CONSUMED: on my iPod, in 4 different countries, and at various altitudes above 10,000 feet

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So I'm going to give the blog another go. I must send a thanks to all those kids who asked me about the future of this blog in person. It's always great to get feedback, especially when comments are often quiet. Having said this: 2009 should be the year of comments! Comment away, friends!

puppet musical

Late nights on subway platforms can either be extremely tedious, or wildly entertaining. By the looks on these people's faces, puppets singing Christina Aguilera apparently fall into the latter. I myself was caught, found myself pausing as I ran up the stairs to try my luck with the NRQW.

CONSUMED: L train platform; Union Square station, Manhattan

The Yiddish Princess (at Pete's Candy Store)

The Yiddish Princess, a newly-born quartet based here in Brooklyn, performs Yiddish ballads in the style of an 80s power rock band, complete with heavily reverbed vocals, soaring synths and screaming guitar solos. It's as campy as it sounds. But it works; I found myself buying into their schtick by the third song. And I swear, it's the singability of their music that will win your vote. Because though I may not understand what I'm singing, it feels so right to belt "Yah lai lai!" at the top of my lungs.

CONSUMED: Pete's Candy Store; 709 Lorimer St, Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

Wintersleep :: Welcome to the Night Sky

Has anyone noticed that the Halifax music scene is kickin' right now? Actually what has probably has happened is that I've pulled my head out of my metaphorical Toronto/Montreal-centric ass. That and having visited Halifax first hand and seeing that city really for what it is (i.e. not the "east coast's poor attempt at a metropolis", but rather an up-and-coming town of hip and alternative culture).

I was attracted to the concert at Terminal 5 because of the headliners, Wolf Parade. But I left enthralled with the opener, Wintersleep. Their CD safely stowed in my pack pocket, I went home with their rich harmonies ringing in my ears. And then over the next few weeks, I consumed their new album with such vigour I would have burned new grooves into the CD had it not been for my iPod. Now over four months since that concert and I still find myself gravitating towards that album when I don't know what else to put on. And though I think I should give other new music a chance, why deny guaranteed satisfaction?

CONSUMED: Terminal 5; Manhattan

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And thus ends my posts for NaBloPoMo. Back to weekends off, folks.

The Stolen Minks (at Don Pedro)

The Stolen Minks are a kick-ass punk-rockabilly foursome (touring as a three-piece) from Halifax that finally made it across the border to do a Stateside tour. They are also friends of mine. So I was doubly stoked to discover that they were making a stop in New York (and Brooklyn specifically), so that I could see them play live. Apparently, the saturated music scene here made New York difficult to book, but they were able to score a gig at Don Pedro, a music bar located in that purgatorial limbo known as East Williamsburg/Bushwick.

I was a bit worried, as none of the kids I invited were able to make it to the show. And the act before them didn't really draw a crowd. I thought that maybe I would get a private show. But once they let loose their no nonsense rock, they pulled everyone from the front of the bar to the stage. They played all the faves including my request, "Boys on the Floor," to which I was the lone clapper during the bridge. I didn't care. I was just so proud to see my friends playing in the city that never sleeps.

CONSUMED: Don Pedro; 90 Manhattan Ave, Bushwick (Brooklyn)

Crystal Castles :: Crystal Castles

I don't really have enough knowledge about music styles to accurately ascribe a genre or musical qualities to Crystal Castles. All I know is that on their most recent self-titled album, they combine the right amount of 8-bit instrumentals, screeching vocals, and drum machine beats that make me almost (involuntarily) dance on subway platforms.

Sadly I missed these Toronto kids when they recently came through and played at Webster Hall, and I fear they'll be relegated to Terminal 5 the next time they're in town.

CONSUMED: on subway platforms around New York

Michael Arenella & His Dreamland Orchestra

Central Park. Hands down the number one thing that you gotta do when you come to New York, before the Empire State, Rockefeller Center, even the Statue of Liberty. It is the figurative and literal heart of the city, pumping vitality into its inhabitants; without it, the city would gain 10 BMI points, start to balkanise, and finally commit suicide.

It's for this reason that I show the park off to visitors like it was my very own backyard. I still relish in the park's verdure, and in the disparate (though inevitably intertwined) cultures of the native New Yorkers and the weekend tourists.

And so on touring Central Park with an old Haligonian friend last weekend, it was with feigned surprise (I am no longer surprised when the park provides unexpected forms of entertainment) but unfeigned delight that we stumbled upon Michael Arenella & His Dreamland Orchestra. Their hot dance jazz ditties had attracted a healthy crowd to the steps of Bethesda Fountain, including what appeared to be true aficionados of the fancy dances of the 1920s. We couldn't help but gawk and share giddy smiles, faintly aware that the city in which we were standing was intricately tied to the anachronism playing out in front of us.

CONSUMED: the steps of the Bethesda Fountain; Central Park, New York

Ra Ra Riot (at the Music Hall of Williamsburg)

Back in Ra Ra Riot's early touring days, their original drummer John Pike drowned mysteriously, tragically after one of their shows. I can only imagine how they all must have come together to weather the tragedy; indeed their recently released debut album The Rhumb Line was dedicated to John. Whether this was the cause or not, you could see the connection between band members on stage, with the guitarist flashing smiles at the violinist; with the frontman climbing on top of the drum kit to tousled the hair of the drummer; with the bassist screaming lyrics into the ear of the cellist.

And their music! You couldn't stop moving if you wanted to, even to their slow jams. The lead singer Wes Miles comes up with melodies that linger, that stay with you even after you turn off the stereo. You could tell they enjoyed playing as much the audience loved dancing. And dance we did, until the lights came on after the second encore, a Kate Bush cover with the final proclamation "I need your love love love love love!"

CONSUMED: Music Hall of Williamsburg; Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

The Notwist (at Webster Hall)

Webster Hall is not my favourite concert venue. It's too big, too gaudy, and too club (you can even see the disco ball hovering up by the ceiling, waiting to be lowered for the bridge-and-tunnel crowds that flock there on the weekends). So when people ask if I want to go to a show there, I often give a knee-jerk no.

Except I had never seen the Notwist (pronounced "no-twist" and NOT "not-wist") live before. And I definitely gave their acclaimed 2002 album Neon Golden a fair share of rotation in its day. Their new album The Devil, You and Me hasn't grabbed me as strongly, but despite this I agreed to go to the show. (Actually in my absentmindedness, I asked two separate people to buy my ticket. Whoops.)

Their music, a blend of rock and electronic, sounds like it might could be a bunch of people pressing sample buttons on laptops. And so on Monday, expecting not that much, I instead received an incredible live rock show. The key to the Notwist, I realised, is their live versatility, being able to perform quiet ballad-like songs like "Gloomy Planets" while at the same time successfully delivering plenty of drum-and-bass stylings as in "This Room" (from Neon Golden). And so I found myself dancing during the fast songs and singing along to the slow ones, and being thankful that I had said yes to my friends for bringing me along.

CONSUMED: Webster Hall; New York

Chad VanGaalen :: Soft Airplane

Maybe it's because this guy is from my hometown, which some may describe as a "cultural wasteland." Maybe it's because he exudes awkwardness: he's tall, lanky, his voice sounds like it's always on the edge of cracking, and he's always hermitically making music in his basement!

Or maybe it's because he's making music unlike anything that's coming out of Canada right now. Rather he's been blazing his own trail and wooing Canadians since 2003. But now with this third album under his belt, Chad VanGaalen has proven that he's not going anywhere anytime soon (and thank goodness for that).

With just enough quirk (he went to art school after all) to appease the most discriminating of music critics, and just enough catchy hook to keep him really accessible, he definitely deserves a listen. (There's more of his tracks on the CBC Radio 3 website, if you can figure out their not-so-intuitive music player.)

CONSUMED: Zulu Records; 1972 West 4th Avenue, Vancouver

Shad :: The Old Prince

For three years now, Canada has been the home to the Polaris Music Prize. The award is based on actual artistic merit (as judged by music broadcasters, bloggers and journalists) and not music sales (see: Grammys and Junos). And so the nominees represent the best music that has come out of Canada over the past year.

This year, the award shortlist contained some up-and-comers (Holy Fuck, Two Hours Traffic, Plants and Animals) mixed with heavy hitters (Stars, The Weakerthans, Kathleen Edwards). But after giving everyone a brief listen, what caught my ears were not the indie rock/pop outfits, but rather the lone hip hop album on the list.

Shad's style of emceeing falls under my personal classification as "hip hop" and not "rap," which means that he lays down rhymes about personal and political issues rather than bling-bling and bitches. The best example is in "Brother" where he talks through his frustration of how black youth are tied up in a form of "mental slavery" where the only images of black identity they see involve "makin' tracks or...hoops...or movin' packs for the loot." He calls on black activists to not try to "match any image of blackness" but rather just "do what you're passionate to." In layering his lyrics over a piano/vocal riff not unlike those used by Common, Shad makes this track is one of the sweetest on the album.

But my favourite track is definitely "The Old Prince Still Lives at Home," in which the beat sample cuts out two-thirds the way through the song. "I couldn't afford the whole beat," he says on the track. Then he spits another verse on top of hand claps and a chorus of "hollas!" Even if he didn't win the Polaris Prize this year, he definitely deserves the acclaim afforded by the nomination.

CONSUMED: Red Cat Records; 4307 Main Street, Vancouver