Real Ick

I don't think there has ever been such a gaping disparity between how much I simultaneously hate and like something, not that I like L.A.'s Tearist very much. They definitely fall under the "trying too hard" category which is a shame, because I like parts of their music and the arguable ideas behind it: raw emotional release and pushing the boundaries of the human capacity to enjoy ramshackle discordance. But even when it comes to guttural, primitive, voice- and/or noise-oriented music (or experiments, rather), there is just a whole world of more interesting and even just more sincere acts out there: Swedish minimalist duo Wildbirds & Peacedrums and Bjork, for example, or Glenn Branca and Sonic Youth. And I really want to like Tearist's lo-fi, trash-ass, retro aesthetic (I've always had a soft spot for junkyard electro-punk), but image is nothing without substance.

It's not the fact that Jasmina Kittles smashes, crashes, scrapes and clanks objects together like a caged animal desperate for escape. It's not the fact that she dresses in essentially nothing more than what could be a torn garbage bag or the way or yells, yelps, screeches and scowls like a feral child, stretching her voice in ways that seem entirely antithetical to the human larynx's intended design (or at least hers). I just sense an intangible level of affectation in Tearist's entire performance. And I've watched multiple Tearist videos, so I believe my judgment of the band is well informed enough. I'd guess Tearist is a satirical comment on hipsterdom, but that may be giving Tearist too much credit as any sort of intellectual or even pseudo-intellectual artistic endeavour.

Little doubt this has been my most negative post yet, but I think I'm a fair person, so I'll end my post with this: only Jasmina Kittles seems to try too hard. Synth player William Strangeland is pretty nondescript (for better or for worse).

Godddddd DAMN IT, I Love Devo.

While listening to them, I often think they are the best God-damned band in the world. A different song always sets off this thought. Tonight, it was "Gates of Steel" from Freedom of Choice (Warner Bros., 1980).

All-Night Brain-Buster

It is absolutely bugging me that I can't remember what song "Cracking Eggs" by Brooklyn's My Best Fiend reminds me of. The lumbering piano line, the tidal wave guitars that crash against it, the crescendos, the in-between-mellifluous-and-nasally/coarse vocals and eventual harmonies, the pseudo-psychedelic squalls of pedal effects, ... I feel like this is a Dandy Warhols song. In fact, I'm sure I'm thinking of a song by them. Maybe "Genius"? "Big Indian"? I don't know. Maybe I'm not even thinking of the Dandies. Maybe I'm thinking of Antlers. That sounds more like. Oh, well. As Marge Simpson's prison-mate Tattoo Annie's Mad Magazine back-ink asks,

I'll just enjoy "Cracking Eggs" for what it is: a song for which I don't really care.

Hope For the Future Or I. Am. So. Fucking. EXCITED!!!

The War on Drugs, one of my absolute favourite bands and creators of my favourite driving album of all time Wagonwheel Blues (Secretly Canadian, 2008), made their television debut Tuesday night on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. ?uestlove of the Roots (who moonlight as Jimmy Fallon's house band) even gives the War on Drugs an extra pair of hands on drums.

Although "Baby Missiles," as much as I like it, isn't a particular favourite War on Drugs song of mine (the same goes for everything else on their second album, last year's Slave Ambient), their performance on Fallon has honestly gotten me more excited to see them when they open for Sharon Van Etten at the end of March than anything else has. Maybe it's because in all of the live War on Drugs videos I've seen, they, to be blunt, haven't sounded very good, the details of their open road psychedelia diluted through sub-par sound systems or sub-par recording equipment, resulting in murky performances at best.

On Fallon, however, the War on Drugs is a rock-solid unit - a chugging bionic machine; you couldn't pry apart the sum. Front person Adam Granduciel's guitar skills, which don't quite translate in other live videos or really even on their albums, also really shine here. And has anyone else still yet to believe how similar Adam's and former War on Drugs member Kurt Vile's voices sound? Just uncanny.

The War on Drugs' amazing performance on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon makes it even more difficult for me to believe how much of a bargain their show with Sharon Van Etten will be.

Jack White on American Pickers

Watch Jack White haggle with the hosts of the History Channel's American Pickers over a $10,000 taxidermied elephant head. I can't help but feel the hosts oversold the value of Jack's items he offered for trade. But then, I'm not the one with the antiquing/oddities show. The segment begins at 34:54:

http://www.history.com/shows/american-pickers/videos#the-elephant-in-the-room

As If the Original Wasn't Great Enough.

This is like the cutest thing ever.

I Think I Just Discovered My Favourite Jazz Album.

If you follow my blog or know me personally, you'll know that while I like jazz, I don't really know anything about it. Yes, I have my share of Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Charles Mingus, Louis Armstrong and Oscar Peterson albums (with a particular affinity for Herbie Hancock), but I really can't tell someone what "good" or "bad" jazz are - what makes a particular jazz piece "brilliant."

I can, however, tell you what jazz sounds best to me, and that jazz is Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers' 1958 album Moanin' (Blue Note Records). I don't know where Moanin' ranks in importance or acclaim in jazz history; I don't even know where Moanin' ranks in Art's discography, but I know where the album ranks with me, and that's all that personally matters. Here's the album's self-titled cut: