Showing posts with label dan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dan. Show all posts
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Concert Review: Cloud Nothings


Last night's Cloud Nothings show at the Buffalo Iron Works was a great experience. The bands played well, the crowd was into it, but it was the synergy between the two that pushed things over the top.
I admit I was worried at the beginning. Openers Pleasure Leftists, who will be joining Cloud Nothings for a few dates before coming back through Buffalo next week for your listening pleasure, were awesome, but the crowd barely seemed to move. They clapped hard, but they seemed a little sleepy.

Even when the headliners came on, I was concerned. The crowd only started to pick up a few songs into the set, when singer Dylan Baldi started strumming out the first few chords of "Stay Useless." Lyrically, "Stay Useless" is all aching ennui, wishing for "Something to do/somewhere to go." The crowd, at least the first few rows of it, seemed to know all the words, and when the first chorus hit, the pit really started to get going.

It was a strange pit. It occupied my attention for much of the night. Part of the reason was that a few UFC types, looking like lapsed friars with their shaved heads, were jumping around like featherweights with their fists up and I wasn't trying to get my teeth knocked out. But, at first, it struck me as a strange reaction to a band like Cloud Nothings. Maybe not strange: Here and Nowhere Else, their new release, is more aggressive than the band's past output, and live, it hits even harder. Baldi's voice is still well-suited to cut through the clutter, but between three people, the band makes a whole lot of noise. Extra points to drummer Jayson Gerycz, who played so long, so insistently, that I feared he might die during the encore.

But yeah, the pit. Forgive me for mostly grabbing lyrics from old tracks, but those were the ones that the crowd knew the best. Consider the lyrics to "No Future/No Past," which I will reproduce in their entirety: "Give up/Come to/No hope/We're through/No future/No past."

This song may have been the highlight of the evening. If you haven't heard it, it's a slow build. The crowd chanted along with Baldi eight times through the verse until exploding into the chorus. The whole point of the song is delayed gratification, and by the time the catharsis finally came, people were basically swaying and drooling on their neighbor. When it hit, the mood was celebratory: people were crowdsurfing, throwing elbows, shouting out their lungs.

But what were we celebrating? The pit was mostly dudes in their mid-20s thrashing about. They knew the words. It was strange to see them connect to the words in this manner. The apolitical angst of the Cloud Nothings, which a real bastard might be tempted to call symptomatic of the whole Millenial generation, is something that a lot of people share but aren't quite sure how to react to. Despair is an option. Last night, people opted for revelry.

It was a moment, thankfully not uncommon, that proved that music could bring people together. But together for what? Cloud Nothings lyrics appeal to those who vaguely sense an impending, inevitable apocalypse, knowing that the world will end not with a bang or a whimper, but through a death of a thousand cuts. Standing in the pit, I felt a bit like I was standing in the eye of a hurricane: fury surrounding us, but in the center, nothing at all.

This feeling was exacerbated by the fact that there were certainly a few people up front that may have been at their first rodeo. People really out to hurt someone, or totally willing to pass a crowdsurfer into nothingness just to get him off their hands. I guess this kind of thing happens at every single show, but it stood out to me more last night. It seemed more fitting: potentially bringing harm to someone not through effort, but lack of effort, refusing to be self-conscious of your inexperience.

I guess what struck me, at the core, was how well-suited the crowd was to the music and the meaning. Being young and hung with a true despair, seeing that the world is running out of juice, that as you age you will only be faced with ever-diminishing returns: who wouldn't jump into a collective experience like rowdy crowd at a concert with an attitude of self-possession? Sometimes, after a great show, people feel like they want to build something up. Sometimes there is catharsis in wanting to destroy. Last night's show was the first show I have been to in a while that I felt as if people were getting hyped up on an attitude of "Why build? Why destroy?."

I sound like I'm slagging on the show, the band and the crowd. I'm not. A rock show can be great and not feel epic, life-changing or even particularly fun (at least in the sense of pure pleasure). This one was great because the band and the crowd made perfect sense together. It was just the kind of sense that stems from lyrics like these, from "Psychic Trauma" off of the band's new record:

"Try to stop it, try to feel something
But nothing happens, I stay the same
Is it alright to end up this way?
Life gets boring, it fades away."

Check out Cloud Nothings playing "Psychic Trauma" live in Houston below. Audio isn't the best, but it'll give you an idea of what you missed last night (though they played as a three-piece at Iron Works).




Photo credit: Erica Morano of Buffalo.com. Check out the rest of her shots from the night here.

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Album of the Week: Failures' Union - Tethering


When I mentioned to people that I'd be writing up the new Failures' Union release, Tethering, I generally got one of two responses. 

The first was that these guys were staples over at Mohawk Place. The association makes sense: that's where the band got its start back in 2004.

"We started out in a practice space above the bar, and that tiny room, along with the bar itself, were our homes for many years," said Failures' Union bassist Jason Draper. 

With Mohawk gone, the band and the city are still feeling the hurt. Failures' Union has only played four local dates since the venue closed its doors. Draper pointed out that some venues, like Spiral Scratch Records and the newly-resurrected Sugar City, have stepped up to the plate since, but that "it's a band-aid to a problem that needs some stitches." If the music scene is going to flourish once again, it needs a bar "of the right size, with the right attitude."

Not that you would think the scene was floundering after listening to Tethering. In 2014, Failures' Union may have released the last great record of the nineties. But they don't sound kitschy, nostalgic or dated like many bands trying to emulate Pavement or Dinosaur Jr. do. That's because they don't sound like they're trying to emulate anyone. There are shades of the Goo Goo Dolls, Archers of Loaf, and the Gin Blossoms here, but those bands sound less like influences and more like peers.

Which stands to reason considering the second descriptor that people used to describe Failures' Union to me: "hard working." On one hand, "hard working" means exactly that: always writing, always booking shows, always playing your guts out. For Draper, it's about making music an integral part of your life.

"When we're not [playing music], there's a void, at least in my life," said Draper. "Anything we do with the band is out of necessity to keep ourselves sane."

To me, "hard working" is primarily an aesthetic. A hard working band doesn't rely on gimmicks, trends or flash. More music, less performance art. More Springsteen, less Gaga. 

"Hard working" has its drawbacks, too. It closes as many doors as it opens. Certain types of cool require the appearance of effortlessness. Fonzy loses his edge if he looks like he's trying. Ziggy Stardust falters once you see him start to sweat.

Tethering, on the other hand, sounds a little sweaty. I mean that as the highest compliment. This is absolutely Failures' Union most polished work yet, but no amount of production wizardry could wash away the grit that's built into their sound. Ziggy Stardust is not just cool: he is cooler than you. He lets you know this by standing on an elevated stage and telling you that he is from another planet. Failures' Union, on the other hand, is standing on the floor with you, sweating alongside you. They aren't in it for status. They're there to play some music, plain and simple.

At the end of the day, that's what "hard working," as an aesthetic, boils down to: authenticity and relatability. That's what makes Tethering so easy to like. It comes off familiar like your favorite record, so much so that it's easy to miss the songcraft and the hooks the first time through. But you're sure to repeat: at a time when many albums coming out aim to challenge, perplex or pummel the audience, Tethering is a pleasure to listen to, straight up and down.

Tethering is perhaps Failures' Union's best album, and it's definitely their most mature. It sounds more polished than their prior output. But it's more than that. The straight-ahead punk-inspired exuberance of their earlier work has been traded in for patience and songcraft. Where a younger band might give into the temptation to batter the listener into submission by throwing all of their good ideas out at once, Tethering sees Failures' Union banking on the slow burn.

Or at least as slow of a burn as you can get with mid-nineties guitar-based alt-rock. These are still pop songs in their hearts, but Failures' Union deftly navigates a more expansive dynamic landscape than they've tackled in the past.

Tethering opens up with "Painting Lines," which sets the tone for the rest of the album. Those familiar with Failures' Union's past work are sure to immediately notice the band's growth as musicians and performers. Singer Tony Flaminio is in especially good voice throughout and he and the rest of the band never lose the sense of forward momentum that they establish here.

It's hard to pick a favorite track here because all of the songs reside in the same neighborhood. "Between," which we chose as one of our favorite local tracks of 2013, is maybe the most immediately catchy. "Vs. The Tide" sees the band bringing in the sax sounds that Bruce Springsteen made famous and that The Men recently made cool again. "Hard to Sea" might have the chorus best suited for a sing-along if you get the chance to catch Failures' Union live. And "Human Shield" is probably the tune that I've found myself walking around my house humming the most since I snagged a copy of the album.

All that said, Tethering should be listened to as an album, not as a collection of songs. If you're at all a fan of the genre, then it'll hit immediately like a record you've loved for years. 

In fact, you can pick it up live and in-person. Failures' Union will be playing a release show at Broadway Joe's (Tuesday, 4/8) along with Iron Chic, Broadcaster, and Mapmaker (who is also releasing an LP at the show). It's their last local show before they jet off to tour Europe. Kicks off at 7 pm. Six bucks at the door.

If you can't make the show, then I'm sure some local record shops will be receiving copies shortly. You can also pick up a digital copy on Bandcamp.   




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buffaBLOG 4th Birthday Party Artist Spotlight: Real People

Back in November, when Real People's excellent Ceilings EP got the album of the week treatment, our own Nick Sessanna wrote that "Real People is a prime example of a band meant to be seen in basements." By which he meant that they're the kind of band you want to thrash around to, sweat and bleed on friends and strangers to: the kind of band that is not only there to be listened to, but experienced.

He isn't wrong. But I have confidence that, on Saturday, they'll be able to bring the energy and grit of an all-out basement throwdown to Duke's for buffaBLOG's 4th birthday party.

Real People has been around since 2008, but they've got a ton of momentum right now. Ceilings is a stellar example of emo done right: raw as all hell and void of cliches (not to mention that lead singer Landon Sworts has some fucking pipes). They released a session with Quiet Country Audio late January that should convince any doubters that they can bring it live, 110 percent. And they've been catching some radio play recently on Alternative Buffalo.

So if you want to see a band on the ascendant tearing it up (on a bill with several other artists who fit that description), you've got no excuse to miss our party on Saturday. Real People will be closing out the set, after which DJ Chauncey Tails will be spinning some tracks. Dance your ass off. Five dollars, bring your ID, stay all night.




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Album of the Week: Damian - You Don't Need It


"Play 'Soul Night'!"

There are maybe twenty or thirty people crammed into Damian Weber's living room. The request came from a guy standing in the doorway, but all over the room, people begin to signal their approval. 

Up front, Damian Weber, bashfully charismatic, looks down at this guitar and sighs that he isn't sure if he quite recalls how to play it. But the shouts continue, and Damian acquiesces, playing the song perfectly from start to finish. He remembers every word, and so do many of the people in his house. Camera phones come out to catch the key bits. "I can only dance if my rock 'n roll is made by a weirdo," he sings. Through the doorway behind him, I can see two people swing dancing through his dining room.

"Soul Night" is the title track from Damian's debut album. This article is about his new album, You Don't Need It. Following up Soul Night is a tall order. It's a great record: we gave it an A, and every person I talked to about it at the show on Saturday was still kind of enamored of it. Given, they were all people who came out to a house show on a Friday night to see Damian play, along with Kim Moore and Difficult Night. But they had a reverence for Damian that surpassed merely supporting a friend.

Which makes sense. Weber and his music, for all the mumblecore understatedness, are kind of magnetic. To have thirty of your friends in your living room who know your music well-enough to shout the right words in the wrong places is a special thing. Damian himself stops and starts in the middle of songs, criticizing his performance or changing his mind about playing some altogether, but still manages to hold the room's attention.

And, really, it's Damian's presence that links Soul Night and You Don't Need It together. That sounds obvious, but the two albums are different in significant ways. Stylistically, the sound on You Don't Need It takes a turn. Soul Night felt folkier and at times a bit dancier. You Don't Need It, on the other hand, is mellower, more contemplative, and more produced. At its heart, it's still a folk album, but it veers more towards indie rock, even approaching a slacker-disco vibe on songs like the opener, "Sexy Music." And it definitely sounds like a Steak & Cake record, from the bells to the guitar tone.

Weber, though, is unmistakable, his voice especially. It's reminiscent of Mark Kozelek of Sun Kil Moon, but with a bit more levity. I asked Alex Berkley if it would seem like a slag if I said that Damian sounds like if Kermit the Frog smoked three packs a day. He told me I should probably ask Damian's thoughts on The Muppets before I put it in writing, but I didn't get the chance. However silly that might sound in writing, listen to Damian sing: it's unique, it's sincere, and it allows him to get away with expressing a wide range of sentiments. Kozelek is out there right now mumble-singing about relatives dying in freak accidents. Damian runs the gamut, from sexiness to loss to dreams about killer bears, but none of it ever seems silly or superfluous or out of place.

"Sexy Music," the album opener, is a good litmus test. Damian's a lot of things, but he isn't R. Kelly. So it's a gutsy-but-inspired move to kick off the album with a line like "You don't know how sexy your music is to me." If Damian had faltered, distanced himself from the line even a little bit by delivering it with a hint of irony or humor, the whole gambit would have failed. But he plays it straight and it pays dividends. The kind of music that Damian writes lives and dies on the audience understanding that he means every word he says, one hundred percent. That goes double for the lines that come off a little strange, like when he dreams of a killer bear on "They Own Us." But even at his weirdest, Weber comes across as totally sincere, and that's what makes "You Don't Need It" great.

Not that everything on the album is so out there. Songs like "Be My Home" are straightforward and sweet. "We've All Got Good Things To Do," which borrows many of its lyrics from singer-songwriter Jeffrey Lewis's "Alphabet," is now my go-to song to send to any friend who feels like they're a shitty person. And "Mercy" reminds us that "There's mercy in the air, and when you look, there's mercy everywhere."

It's worth noting that, with Damian's delivery and lyrical skills, it would have been easy, perhaps even fashionable, for him to write songs that were real downers. Instead, You Don't Need It is basically an inspiring, encouraging album, a testament to the goodwill and kindness of the people we surround ourselves with.

Fittingly, then, it closes with the title track, which meditates on the possibility of "starting over again with your friends." Damian doesn't sugarcoat things. He doesn't pretend that building a life is by any means easy. But he does make it seem possible. 

I can tell you this: at the show, Weber's friends were definitely willing to start over with him. Sure, they knew all the words to Soul Night. But they'd started to learn the words to You Don't Need it, too. In the middle of "They Own Us," a guy sitting in the corner shouted the refrain a little early and someone spilled a beer and the keyboard player had to admit that he didn't know the chords. Everyone, including Damian, had to stop for a second, take it in, and laugh.



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Tonight: TRAC presents Trust Belt with Aircraft, OHS, & Armageddon Party



Tonight in cultural cross-pollination: art and music over at the Gypsy Parlor. Organized by The Roasty Art Collective, we've got a showcase of local artists starting at 7 pm, with music from Aircraft, Overhand Sam and Armageddon Party kicking off at 10 pm.

Aircraft, if you've never caught them, describe themselves on their website as "psychedelic surf pop," but there's a lot more going on here. Check out any track on their last LP and you'll see what I mean. The "surf" takes a backseat to the "psychedelic," which takes a backseat to the "pop." Great, hooky tunes that probably owe more to Alex Chilton and Arcade Fire than they do to Dick Dale. 

Rochester's Overhand Sam, on the other hand, sounds like the bastard child of Iron & Wine and Leonard Cohen. I say that with a great deal of affection in my heart. If you've ever thought that Sam Beam sounded a little too sentimental and sweet (I have) or you ever wanted your Cohen with more blues and less "old-man-talking-about-getting head" (Christ, I have), then OHS will hit you right in the solar plexus. OHS is Sam Snyder, part of Maybird, whose new music video we covered not too long along.

And if you're in this to shake your hips, stay up for Armageddon Party. Combining live instrumentation with some dope electronic sounds, they'll have you dancing like it's the end of the world. Or at least like the woman in this video (no clue who she is, but she is killing it).

We're a music blog, so I focused on the music, but just as important is the local art show that kicks off the night at 7 pm. The Roasty Art Collective (with which Aircraft drummer Ian Belknap is involved) is showcasing the work of seven local artists, starting at 7 pm. If you're at all interested in the local art scene, or you're just trying to make a good impression on your next OkCupid date, grab dinner and check out the gallery. Music starts at 10 pm. Facebook event here. Sorry underage folks, this event is 21 and up.



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Album of the Week: Unwelcome Guests - Wavering


Scrolling back through our past posts on local favorites Unwelcome Guests, it's hard not to notice a recurring theme: nobody is quite sure how to place them. On the surface, it seems like it shouldn't be so hard. Guitars, bass, drums, vocals: this is the stuff of bands since Buddy Holly. But where one person hears the Buzzcocks, another hears the Gin Blossoms. Personally, the first thing I thought when I started listening to their new album, Wavering, was Jawbreaker, and even then, I'm not sure exactly why. Whatever the reason, Unwelcome Guests are the musical equivalent of that thing from Harry Potter that shows you whatever you want to see.

This is a good thing. It makes Wavering one of those rare albums that could, potentially, please everybody, at least everybody into rock music (Luke Bryan fans, go home). It mostly sheds the occasional country vibe found on Unwelcome Guests' first full-length, Don't Go Swimming, doubling down on the punk and the rock.

Unwelcome Guests have always been skilled songwriters and arrangers. On Don't Go Swimming, it's obvious that a great deal of thought went in to every single note, build-up and breakdown. But Wavering is on a whole new level. For one thing, the band is tighter than ever, and not afraid to showcase their musicianship when the situation calls for it. For another, it's clear that every single track was meticulously planned and executed so that the listener would never have the chance to get bored. Unwelcome Guests put the work in on Wavering, and it shows. Where other bands might have taken one good idea and tried to stretch it across an entire song, Unwelcome Guests give every flourish the attention it deserves before moving right on to the next one. Not only does that keep the listening experience fresh, but it rewards repeat listening as well. 

 The album opener, "Aerostatic," kicks off with a snare hit right to your skull, the kind designed to get an audience out of their heads and onto their feet. "Aerostatic," and two tracks that immediately follow, "Everything New" and "Clouds," are both melodic punk songs in the vein of great bands like Jawbreaker and Hüsker Dü. "Kick The Beams" sports some of the best guitar work on the album, building on an imperial-sounding guitar line reminiscent of bands like Ozma or Queen. Album midpoint "Flood" sees the band touching on their country-punk roots, but the tracks that follow are closer to straight-up riffy rock. "Cautions Will Be The Death Of Me" is a catchy love song, but maybe the album's low point (or maybe I'm just a cold, cold bastard who can't get down with sincere expressions of adoration and appreciation). But things pick up quick, closing out with the energetic, Superchunky sounds of "Can't Get Past" and "Slippery Strings."

 Despite the fact that Unwelcome Guests draws on and displays influences from a ton of different bands, the production on Wavering keeps things consistent. No matter what great bands might come to mind throughout, Unwelcome Guests always sound like themselves, first and foremost. The album was recorded and mixed all over, including The Slave Pit, home of Gwar, and it sounds great. 

 Unwelcome Guests are out on tour in support of Wavering, right now, so it might be a while before you can catch them live and pick up a copy at a show. They just finished up a string of dates with labelmates Sundowners, the last one being a spot on the Dirt Cult Records showcase at SXSW on Saturday. So if you'd like a real live physical copy of Wavering, support your local record store (I know that Black Dots has it, and that Spiral Scratch should soon), or order a copy straight from the label here. 




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Tonight: Swearin'


Tonight at the Waiting Room: Swearin', Bryan Johnson & Family, Marine Biologist and The Big.

 First: check out that picture up top. If you're telling me those aren't the people you want to spend your Saturday night with, you're lying.

 I'm not being especially novel by comparing Swearin' to The Pixies and The Breeders, but that's because it's true. Male-female vocals, clever lyrics, solid melodies, loud-quiet-loud dynamics and a healthy dose of fuzz: the band's debt to late 80's/early 90's alternative rock in general, and Frank Black/Kim Deal in particular is on display. That's not to say that Swearin' is derivative by any stretch. Where Frank Black wanted to sing about, say, bloody dresses and incest, Swearin' is here to sing about the unease, precarity, and occasional joys of early adulthood. Their music isn't a rallying cry, an indictment or a resolution (leave that for poorly-considered trend pieces in Time). It's more personal than that, and all the more satisfying for sitting with the feeling of being unsure and inconclusive. Plus, it rocks: the choruses are gigantic and the hooks are never lost in the fuzz.

 Joining Swearin' will be Buffalo bands Marine Biologist and Bryan Johnson & Family, along with Rochester's The Big. If you made it to our holiday party last December, then you caught the first one. Where Swearin' might capitalize on the feeling of being uncertain, Marine Biologist's effusive post-rock is totally sincere (we named their song, "Allegro," one of the best local songs of 2013 for that very reason). Surf-rockers Bryan Johnson & Family make catchy music for fun people (they, too, made the list of best songs of 2013). And Rochester's The Big will be bringing their slower, contemplative indie-rock to Buffalo for the first time. And it'll be their first show with their new drummer, who according to their Facebook page is a "looker."

 Meowza. Facebook event here. Tickets are ten bucks. Doors at 7 pm. 




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Tonight: Cabinet


Tonight, we've got a night of folk, Americana and bluegrass at The Waiting Room. Locals Pine Fever and Crows & Jays will be playing with Cabinet, a touring band from my home state of Pennsylvania. I'll cop to being a vocal detractor of much of the music that has come out of the folk/bluegrass revival of recent years. But this isn't for a lack of love for the genre. My distaste has much more to do with having to deal with mustachioed dudes in vests pawing at banjos singing about hopping freight trains when they've never even stepped into an Amtrak station.

The point is that I'm pleased to see a band like Cabinet coming our way. They're young, but they play like guys who have paid their dues a long time ago. They can absolutely rip on some bluegrass, but more often than not, they push on the limits of the genre. The latest release on their Bandcamp page has them experimenting with moody progressive builds with songs like "Caroline," genre crossovers with the reggae-inflected "Dove," as well as straight-up stompers like "Susquehanna Breakdown."

Supporting Cabinet will be locals Crows & Jays and Pine Fever. Our own Ailsa Forlenza cast Crows & Jays's new release as a meditation on memory akin to classic acts like The Allman Brothers and Neil Young. Pine Fever, on the other hand, tends more toward the under-appreciated sounds of ragtime in their most exciting moments, making tonight's show a showcase of some of the best trends that modern Americana has to offer.

Doors open down at The Waiting Room at 7:00 pm. Tickets are $10 advance or $13 the day of the show. They're available at Ticketfly.com or through After Dark Entertainment's low service fee outlet on 630 Elmwood Avenue, Monday through Friday 11:00 am to 5:00 pm. The show is all ages, though if you're under 16, you'll need to bring an adult chaperone along with you. Facebook event here.



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The Hamiltones Surf at The Jungle Gym


The Hamiltones: supergroup on the rise? No idea, but the surf-rock outfit, made up of John Toohill of JOHNS and Chris Scamurra and Nick Reynolds of Space Wolves, played a head-bopping set two Saturdays ago at the Jungle Gym that, luckily, was recorded for posterity. It's surf with a punk twist: a little louder, a little more aggressive, with more of an edge. They obviously know their surf, enough to blaze through classics like "Church Key" and the theme from Batman with ease. Check out "Church Key" below and see what you think.

(Full disclosure: no clue who the guy in the picture is, but that's the album cover The Hamiltones posted on Bandcamp.)


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Tonight: All of Them Witches, The Papers


Tonight, we've got an interesting split at Buffalo Iron Works: local math-rockers All of Them Witches and The Papers, an indie-folk trio from Chicago. If you haven't heard The Papers, they sing some lovely folk tunes with lush male/female vocal pairings. There's a hint of Broken Social Scene in their Care Less EP, partly because of the way the male/female vocals play out, and partly because of the way the songs start simple and build into dramatic, textured climaxes. It's not easy to build this kind of momentum without losing the sense of intimacy that this kind of music requires, and I'd definitely recommend checking out the album on bandcamp and picking up a copy at the show if it suits your fancy.

If The Papers will melt your heart, then All of Them Witches will melt your face. The duo plays progressive, stop-start math rock that will have you moving long before you can figure out exactly how to count out the beat. It's an interesting pairing, but I think it will be a solid one: All of Them Witches can wind you up, and The Papers can wind you back down.

If you're wondering what The Papers are doing so far from Chicago, here's a clue: recently-returned Buffalo native Matt Script is in the band. We named Script one of our five (or six) acts to watch in 2014 earlier this year, and his solo release, Room For Error, is definitely worth checking out.

Doors open at Buffalo Iron Works at 8 pm, with music starting at 9. Five dollars at the door. Facebook event here for more details.



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Copy Manager Releases /​/​\​\​/​/​\​\


If you can't quite make out the lyrics on /​/​\​\​/​/​\​\, the new release from noise-pop act Copy Manager, here's the SparkNotes version: unlucky in love, yearning, and not too pleased about it. Much like December's self-titled release (a release which led us to name Copy Manager one of 2014's five acts to watch), /​/​\​\​/​/​\​\ sees Copy Manager alternating between earnest longing and melancholic misanthropy. 

The album opens with "Look," which describes an unrequited desire for connection with lyrics like "Can I call you on the phone?/I already know you just want to be alone." The closer, "Go Away," ends the album with a reversal. After being consistently spurned, Copy Manager has only one thing to say: "I just want everyone to go away."

You might have to go through and read the lyric sheet to get the message. Copy Manager bathes every song in lo-fi fuzz, with a blown-out drum machine driving every track. The melodies come through loud and clear, and each of /​/​\​\​/​/​\​\'s five tracks is exceptionally catchy. The result is a unique sound: once you listen to /​/​\​\​/​/​\​\, you'll know Copy Manager the moment she starts streaming out of your speakers.

Check out the video for "Look" below. Copy Manager is playing a show March 21 at the Northrup House if you'd like to check her out live and in person.





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Tonight: 101010, Returners, A Relative Term


Tonight in fantastic bargains: 101010, Returners and A Relative Term will be playing at Nietzsche's for five dollars at the door. If you aren't familiar with the bands, I suppose they could all safely be categorized as indie rock, but there's much more going on. Returners bring the rock, A Relative Term tend more toward the epic and the atmospheric, and 101010 might fall in between, with hooky, melodic songs with lush, textured instrumentation. 

The show starts at 10 pm. Five dollars at the door, 21 and up. Facebook event is here for more info.



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Tonight: Lazlo Hollyfeld, Rhubarb, & Alex Berkley


Alright! Tonight we've got a show that promises to be good old-fashioned fun. Lazlo Hollyfeld, Rhubarb, and Alex Berkley will be playing some tunes over at the Buffalo Iron Works. If you aren't familiar with the acts: Lazlo Hollyfeld and Rhubarb both play largely instrumental music of the head-bobbing and hip-swaying variety, with Lazlo Hollyfeld veering more toward electro and Rhubarb veering more toward jam band funk. Alex Berkley plays mostly acoustic tunes in the vein of The Mountain Goats, with the same satisfying mixture of humor and sudden bursts of clarity and pathos. 

Buffalo Iron Works hosts a lot of touring acts and shows designed to draw crowds after Sabres games, but they've hosted local artists the last few Thursdays in a row. Here's hoping that they continue their support of the Buffalo music scene. If that's something you would like to support, then we'll see you at the show tonight.

Doors open at 8 pm, with Alex Berkley starting at 9. Five dollars at the door.



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Steak & Cake Releases Inquiring Mind/Beekeeper Split


Local DIY record label Steak & Cake held a wonderful two-part show on Saturday where this split was supposed to be released, but unforeseen circumstances held it back (and prevented Inquiring Mind from performing). That's a whole other story; the point of this post is to talk about the digital release of this Steak & Cake split featuring Inquiring Mind and Beekeeper.

 We've actually written about the first track, Inquiring Mind's "The Only Way" before, with Nick Sessanna calling it an "ultra-hip" mix between Pavement and Lorde. That's a fair comparison: the guitars sound charmingly detuned, but singer Jaz Frazier's voice comes through confidently. It's her persona that sets her apart from either act. "The Only Way" starts out playfully megalomaniacal, with Frazier singing that she never thought she'd find someone as "pretty" or "witty" as herself before she met her current match. But that gives way to the chorus: "Together forever, the stories say... together forever, it's the only way." There's an edge to the way she delivers that "only," especially as the song progresses, that underscores the storybook sentiment with a threat. Frazier's voice is lovely enough that we at first want to read her persona as "Manic Pixie Dream Girl," but we soon find that dropping "Pixie Dream" brings us closer to the truth. It's a good dynamic, preventing us from being totally taken in by Frazier and forcing us to listen more closely to the very strong three tracks that Inquiring Mind supplies to the split.

 The other half features the piano-drive stylings of Beekeeper. To riff again off the words of another buffaBLOG contributor, our fearless leader Mac McGuire, Beekeeper sounds like Youth Lagoon meets early Broken Social Scene: hooks coated with noise, echo, and a hint of despair. I'll say this back to Mac: no matter what Trevor Powers of Youth Lagoon is singing about, his voice always struck me as a little cutesy. Beekeper's Eli Van Son doesn't have that problem. Far from it, in fact. These songs express a whole range of darker, more subdued emotions. The vocals are at times buried, at times garbled, at times distorted, but they always come through strong, like Van Son is crooning from the last piano bar in hell. The standout track is the album closer, "Come Back Home." Opening with the noise of a small gathering, suddenly Van Son is all alone, a distorted voice roaring out "We grow tall enough to fall" like the words are being ripped out with a fish hook. From there, the song builds, and drops, and builds. There's a new surprise around every corner, be it a head bobbing rhythm or a catchy-as-hell vocal riff or a lull into a lullaby-esque xylophone break before returning to the main, distorted theme. It ends with the line "The skies we saw don't make it easier at all/to punch the clock and come back home," as if all the beauty that preceded it was worth nothing at all.

 Don't let that last downer fool you: all the beauty that preceded it on the entire split was actually quite impressive. It's awesome to see a split come out of Steak & Cake with two great acts that fit together so well, especially considering how varied Steak & Cake's roster is. Inquiring Mind brings us up to a manic pitch, Beekeeper brings us back to a contemplative lull, but by the end of the release, we feel recharged, ready to do it all over again.



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Tonight: Punk N' Tots


Valentine's Day weekend is shaping up to be a great weekend for live local music. Why not kick it off early with another installment of Punk 'N' Tots over at Broadway Joe's?

 If you've never been, it's exactly what it sounds like: punk bands playing music, complimentary tater tots. This week, we have Boston punks Draize, local hardcore outfit Resist Control, and the relatively-new-but-totally-awesome Hot Tip. "All Bats Have Eyes and Can See," unfortunately, is not a band name, just a handy bit of trivia printed on the flyer that you can use to impress your friends.

 Click the links to check out Draize and Resist Control. Hot Tip is either too new or too cool to have recordings on the internet, but I saw them at a previous Punk N' Tots show and they killed it. Female-fronted, very raw, very aggressive. Definitely worth catching live.

 Kick off your Valentine's Day weekend early this Thursday. At the very least, you can stand next to other bodies, pretend you aren't alone, and dance off the desperation.

 The show kicks off at 9 pm at Broadway Joe's at 3051 Main Street. Six bucks at the door. Facebook event here. Check out the track from Draize below and see if it appeals.



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Album of the Week: Sperm - tür cs


tür cs, the new release from Buffalo punk band Sperm, feels like a single intense live set. The songs bleed into each other with guitar feedback and cymbal hits; I would not be surprised, though I would be impressed, if the guts of the first four tracks were recorded all in one take.  

Clocking in at just under 13 minutes, it seems much longer than that. This expansiveness is due partly to the fact that this is the kind of music that stabs you in the neck before it hits you in the brain. Before you have time to react, you’re getting pummelled, and it isn’t until you get a breather in the fifth track, the spare “animal life in the demiurge,” that you have a chance to reflect on what you’ve just been listening to.

That’s not to say that what precedes the track is pure attack. The songs, and the album, are more thoughtful and well-structured than that. The opener, “our great agrarian past (blut and boden),” sets the standard immediately, pounding, riffy, distorted bass and aggressive, shouted vocals. One of the great production decisions throughout the release is putting the bass high in the mix, and, to a degree, burying the vocals. The bass drives the song like a jackhammer while the vocals come across like a man shouting threats at you while he’s drowning. 

But this aggressive feel takes a turn just past halfway through the second track, “atomized, automatized, homicide.” Without any prior warning, you’re hit with music that, while still heavy, you could sincerely dance to. It’s moments like this, when Sperm takes their collective boot slightly off of your neck, that the album shines. The closer, an instrumental called “hyperborea,” is maybe the best example of this kind of nuance. Sperm lets the song build up and stretch its legs a bit, and the band is at its tightest when it is navigating these different dynamics. 

By the time it tür cs ends, you feel like you’ve come out the other end of something. It’s the same kind of feeling you get when a great live set ends. You look around at all the strangers who, five minutes before, were dancing with abandon, and you take a collective breath, wondering what’s next.

Sperm will be playing live at Black Dots on Valentine’s Day with Space Wolves, Methnic Cleansing, and Newish Star. The show will serve as a tape release for tür cs as well as a tour kickoff. Check the Facebook event here and go there whether you’re lonely or not.




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Glass, the Wall's Ghost Is Haunted, But In Harmony


Glass, the Wall’s Ghost, the new project recently released by Buffalo writer, poet and musician Eric Beeny, is a meditation on fear, paralysis and melancholy that combines the vocal harmonies of The Beach Boys with the depression-pop sensibility of Elliott Smith and the musical sophistication and unpredictability of any number of more progressive acts.

Beeny, 32, played in a few bands in high school, but once those bands broke up, his focus shifted to writing. In the meantime, he got older, having a daughter (who is featured on the album cover) with his ex-girlfriend (who supplied the photo), settling into a day job as a Quality Assurance agent and recording Glass, the Wall’s Ghost in his spare time. Its twelve tracks, recorded over a year in his bedroom, are somewhat death-obsessed.  This obsession takes not only mortality as its object, but the death of possibility.

“Glass, the Wall’s Ghost is maybe not being able to see what’s in front of you, being haunted by an obstacle you feel but don’t actually know is there, something you could touch if only you could reach out a little farther,” said Beeny in an email. “It’s all fleeting, because death exists, and if death exists then life ultimately does not exist… but if life does not exist then the wall of which glass is a ghost was never there, which means nothing dies and there is no ghost.”

He follows that up, sheepishly, with: “I’m not sure that makes sense.” But perhaps it shouldn’t- the problem of mortality that serves as the kernel for the album’s emotional journey is totally impervious to any kind of rational attack. It exists just beyond the horizon of comprehension, and that’s what drives the speaker of the album’s lyrics into such a melancholic despair. It’s an unsolvable problem that Beeny himself grapples with.

“I think a lot about death. It scares the shit out of me,” said Beeny. “I don’t believe in [g]od, so for me the end is nothingness. A pre-birth state of non-existence. I guess that ultimate loneliness is what I was trying to express, maybe half-consciously, half un-.”

“Ultimate loneliness” seems to be the default state of the album’s central character. He’s a man trapped: trapped in his own home, his own skin, in some barren world of black holes where the threat of total annihilation is always looming. It’s a world of two, containing our hero and the ever-present “you” to whom all of the songs seem to be pitched. Despite the fact that this pair seems to comprise the entirety of the population, they remain separate, alternately yearning and bitter. And it’s the speaker of the lyrics that separates them, paralyzed by the fear that seems to always be partner to his longing.

It’s no surprise that Beeny is a published poet: it’s the words that hold Glass, the Wall’s Ghost together as a coherent unit. His lyrics range from cryptic and grotesque (think Mars Volta) to plain and pleading. Writing lyrics like this is risky: if you don’t lose your audience for what might seem like purposeful obfuscation, then you might lose them for being too on-the-nose. But Beeny holds it together with a consistent tone of apocalyptic, frustrated longing.

The music is equally accomplished. Glass, the Wall’s Ghost is rich and complex both in arrangement and instrumentation. The vocals are multitracked and harmonized (Beeny lists Brian Wilson’s “SMiLE” as one of his favorite albums, and the Beach Boys influence definitely comes through), and Beeny’s clean, steady voice sometimes works against the sense of vulnerability he tries to convey, but mostly he succeeds in creating interesting melodies that draw from a variety of influences. Throughout, the album is packed with flourishes, like the barely-heard harmonies and guitar riffs that are designed to fill up all available empty space and prevent the listener from ever getting complacent or bored.

The result is impressive: fourteen tracks which combine guitars, ukuleles, acoustic and electric drums, basses, layers upon layers of vocal harmonies and Beeny’s dynamic lyricism into a coherent whole. The only drawback is that it’s perhaps too coherent, not leaving much room for the kind of excitement that only spontaneity can provide. But, then again, spontaneity wouldn’t really suit our protagonist, who by the end of the album is still trapped in his bedroom, alternately longing for and fearing the pure annihilation that might come at the hands of the black hole that has been looming over his home throughout the entirety of the album.

It’s worth noting that this speaker is not Beeny, at least not totally, at least not anymore. If anything, releasing Glass, the Wall’s Ghost was a way for Beeny to distance himself from this kind of melancholy.

“I set out to record an album for myself, to make myself feel better and get these songs out of my head,” said Beeny. “It’s funny, because I’ve already forgotten how to play a lot of this stuff—while it was in my head I had to remember, but now I can finally forget and move on…”



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