I wanted to file this under "Picking Up The Slack For MTV" but Sigur Ros has gone well beyond that hoary old (some could say "dead") medium for the crowd sourced video for "Stormur," off of their excellent current LP Kveikur. Fans worldwide can upload Instagram pictures and videos with the hashtag #stormur to be included in an ongoing and ever evolving web video clip that can be found here. Rousing, evocative, and dizzyingly nostalgic, the song is ideal for being Instagrammed into a music video, and their fans are proving to be more than adept at finding Sigur Ros appropriate subject matter and deploying dreamy sepia toned filters that are entirely in line with the song's aching vibe. It's a beautiful mind meld between artist and audience that blurs the line between the two to create a joyful and constantly changing communal artistic expression that uses the Internet for good instead of evil.

Here's yet more joy courtesy of Sigur Ros, a live performance of "Isjaki," also from Kveikur.

10. Beach Day - Trip Track Attack
Florida-natives Beach Day will release their debut record Trip Track Attack on 6/18 via Kanine Records. The 60s girl-group inspired trio are appropriately releasing their record in the throws of summer, and on the track “Little Red Shoes” its all too easy to see this record on repeat for some time during the ensuing months. Listen below:

"We asked you write a speech for the ceremony because you're a good speaker."

"You got mixed up," I said. "I'm a terrible speaker. I just write good."

A minute before the ceremony, I slugged down another finger of Jameson and took my place in line.

I'd been watching for signs, and nothing augured well.

The frozen rehearsal, the 11th hour whiskey.

The night before, I asked a gray-haired woman in a blue-and-black plaid Carhartt if she'd be going to work on Monday, the idea being, if she had won the lottery, there would be no reason to return to the factory or clothing department or sandwich line, wherever she worked.

"Couple bucks. Not much," she said, clutching a fistful of scratch-offs, wanting to be done with the half-cocked idiot in the Sunoco on Main Street.

"Celebrate!" I said, and stepped out the door. A block later, walking toward the hotel, I remembered: Monday would be Memorial Day. A lot of people wouldn't be going to work.

Idiot.

Somewhere I've still got an old McDonald's Grimace figurine; a purple, petrified marshmallow Peep; and a black-and-white portrait of some dude, printed on a home computer, the words "pagina #5" written on the verso in blue ink. These were gifts from the bride-to-be, back when we were kids. Once upon a time I may or may not have known what the hell any of these things meant. It doesn't matter now, because these are the inscrutable artifacts of another time: strangely articulate Greek machines no one knows the purpose of anymore, but we keep them around because they're fascinating - records of nothing, if not the past.

I've also got a burned CD: on one side it reads "SmartBuy/CDR 32X 80min/700mb," followed by a list of songs in neat, red marker.

The track listing starts with "Sweet Marie," by the Anniversary, and hits on everything from the Descendents to Cheap Trick, Pedro the Lion to "BANANA!!!" (whatever that is), and finishes with Sigur Rós.

On the other side is a language of peaks and valleys that only the bright eye of a laser can understand, but which translates into a clear and uncanny meter that makes a kind of electric sense to one or two snaking coils of my own brain: the crux and throne of the protector of whiskey drinkers and beer guzzlers, guide to the dead and gamblers, liars, and cheats.

I swear to God, there's nothing like the opening organ on that Sigur Rós track.

I've spent some of the loneliest moments of my life listening to it.


Everyone has a song, or two, or whole albums, that, when those songs play, they hit the air just right, a cant calling forth a deity, or a devil, or both.

There's nothing like the lost sounds of a favorite album tearing through a rainstorm on the way to Erie, PA, your first date with what seems to be the red-headed weirdo of your dreams, she, finally begging you to turn it off because, "I don't wanna die - not here."

There's nothing like listening to that same album the night a best friend gets cracked in the back of the skull and left for dead at the bottom of a stairwell. You'll never forget the song you were listening to when his mom calls. She asks when's the last time you've seen him, and all you can say is you'll be at the hospital as soon as you can, and he's going to be all right. 

Right?

And you'll never forget the song playing while the Red Haired Girl lay on the gurney, succumbing to labor, the weather outside "crisp, with a bit of sunshine," the way it says in his baby book.

"Velouria," you wanted to teach him. You're still working on it.


I spent the night hunched over the closed up toilet seat, chiseling words into a notebook I'd bought just for this purpose, timing the speech again and again, revising, rehearsing, drinking. And by the time it was finished, it's all buzz and swirl, no longer words, but the noises of life, shut up in a hotel bathroom, so as not to wake the baby.
 
The last note says "1:44." I guess that means I'd finished writing at eleven of.

It was a windy afternoon when that unexpected and familiar organ howled out and hurled off the sides of the houses, caromed through the air and then up into the sky like some burnt offering to the gods, that they might hold off the rain and wind and cold for something so small as a wedding in this place at the end of so many wine-dark seas. The moment was so perfect and elemental that it was already a part of the air. It was like words spoken by a blind prophet in robes, staff in hand, speaking weird truths about the world that you could only listen to with the string that connects your brain to your guts, and to really hear it you'd have to forget, for a moment, that you'd ever learned to say anything.

This moment wasn't mine to begin with.

I stepped up, head buzzing, closed my eyes, and spoke.

Well, that's another Super Bowl in the books, and like many, I for one am glad it is over. This de facto unofficial American holiday is generally a mixed bag, but this year's edition turned out to a bigger turd than usual, with a wildly uneven game, lackluster commercials, a wildly over hyped half-time show, and a 35 minute long power outage that quickly became taken as a metaphor for modern America. To be honest, I'd take the whole event as a metaphor for modern America, but I'm here to talk about the music, so I'll try (and probably fail) to leave that alone...

• I so wanted to Tweet something about the Alicia Keys rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner" vis-a-vis Beyonce that would've shamelessly fed into gender stereotypes, but in an effort to keep my liberal karma pure, I refrained. Yes, Alicia Keys sang it live; in fact she sang the hell out of it, and I can't say anything bad about it.

• The Flaming Lips got their moment in the sun with their Hyundai ad airing at the start of the game. Unfortunately, amidst so many lame ads it looks like it went largely unnoticed by the general public, a shame considering it was one of the more interesting ads of the whole night.

• Audi used a track from Hanni El Khatib (produced by Dan Auerbach) for their big Super Bowl ad, and while the commercial is largely ludicrous, the song is pretty damn good, so good in fact that I'll be keeping an eye out for this Palestinian American artist.

•  Peter, Bjorn, and John should not have allowed their song to be used for this odious Budweister Black ad campaign. Wasn't 2 Broke Girls enough for these Swedes? And speaking of 2 Broke Girls, we need to find something better for national treasure Kat Dennings to do. That admittedly spicy Super Bowl ad couldn't have gotten any more blatantly sexist. Shame on us.

• I had to laugh at the geriatric network CBS unironically using T-Rex's "20th Century Boy" for their commercials for that cliche riddled new Chi McBride cop show.

Sigur Ros is of course great music any time of year and in just about any setting, but for me, this right here is Sigur Ros weather in Buffalo, NY. As I write this, we're getting our first proper snow of the season. Proper snow, mind you, not the pissant precipitation we got the other night that ostensibly gave us our White Christmas. Now we've got our winter wonderland. There is something magical, dreamlike, and filmic about the first snow; when everything is playing in the light and seemingly new, and the ideal soundtrack for living in these beautiful tableaus is definitely Sigur Ros as their elastic music seems to take on another meaning against such backdrops. Whether driving a snow swept roadway, walking around, shoveling, or just standing while the snow swirls, the hauntingly ethereal, evocative and joyful prog rock of the Icelandic avant-gardists will imbue whatever you're doing with a distinctly cinematic quality. 

I recommend it highly, especially because snow is a total pain the ass.

The new Two Door Cinema Club is so good that it almost pains me when I listen to it... even though it's gone into heavy rotation along with the new exquisite David Byrne and St. Vincent collaboration. Actually, scratch the "almost;" after my first listen that tight collection of Phoenix-esque indie dance pop caused me to wince and groan because I realized that I could've seen Two Door Cinema Club a few years back but didn't, and with Beacon, the world was now their oyster... putting a big question mark on when (if?) they'd return to our fair city. Goddammit, my error came back and punched me square in my sweet spot, which is Catholic guilt (thanks Mom), and in a torrent of regret I soon found myself cataloging my big misses. Sure, life happens, and you can't always get the show, but looking back I realized that I've got a few sins that haunt me, a few sins that require confession (thanks Catholicism):

5) Two Door Cinema Club at... . I don't recall why I didn't get that one, but now that they're on the fast track thanks to their new album Beacon and star turn at the London Olympics Opening Ceremonies, I can't help but feel that I'm shit out of luck for the foreseeable future. Unless I go on a road trip. 

Fun fact, according to setlist.fm Two Door Cinema Club has never played Buffalo, thus the impetus for this piece is a figment of my imagination unless proven otherwise (please feel free to prove otherwise... please). Ain't that a bitch.




4) Wilco at Rocking At The Knox. I probably should have blown off whatever kept me from this show. I know it was something of great import, but Wilco at the Albright Knox would've been worth it. And hey, whatever happened to Rocking At The Knox? I rather enjoyed those.

3) Sigur Ros, period. I don't know how I've never seen Sigur Ros, considering I've been a fan for ten years. It might be because they've never played Buffalo, they always seem to play Toronto on Monday nights (and the thought of driving on the QEW after a Monday at work used to paralyze me with dread), and the one time they played Toronto on a night other than Monday was the night of the Yeasayer show at the Town Ballroom. One day I will see Sigur Ros. One day.

2) Gorillaz at the Air Canada Centre in Toronto. I totally blew it on this one. Was it because it was an expensive ticket? A weeknight road trip that I passed on because of work in the morning? All of the above? Most likely it was because my once trusty car and I were on the serious outs by that point, and I didn't feel like pushing it. That's a lousy excuse for missing my chance to see Albarn, 2 guys from the Clash, De La Soul (for a third time, the hat trick), and Bobby Womack; and indeed there is shame in my heart. I mean, driving to Toronto in my old Ford Focus of doom... what's the worst that could have happened?

1) Neon Indian at Soundlab. This is another one that slipped through the cracks. It looked good, and I liked what Neon Indian I'd heard, but for whatever reason I just didn't get to it, and naturally I'd moved onto other stuff. But then I read that Neon Indian was collaborating with The Flaming Lips, I took time to dig into Psychic Chasms, and I was a total goner. Of course I kicked myself for missing this one, even more after the excellent follow up Era Extrana, so when Neon Indian played in the relative vicinity this past May in Toronto I felt strongly compelled to make the trip. The thing was, it was the day after the M83 show and three days after St. Vincent... it was too much of a good thing, and on my way into the city I even felt like I was going to the trough one time too many. Of course those thoughts and any regrets were thoroughly banished by a killer set from Neon Indian, and I was hauling ass back home (the Ford Focus of doom having since been successfully retired, or most likely sold to a southern hillbilly) all seemed right with the world... until I nailed a deer on the QEW between Niagara Falls and Fort Erie. Now sure, everything worked out in the end, and while there's a good possibility that I'd have gone to Toronto for Neon Indian in any case, the fact is that my missing the show at Soundlab directly led me to stick my ____ in the mashed potatoes and head up to north- so I could end up accidentally putting the hammer down on Bambi's mom on my way home south. I even asked the Provincial copper if she was dead, and all he could say was "oh yeah." Yes, Bambi's mom literally died for my sin... all because I didn't see Neon Indian at Soundlab.

Regrets, I have a few. How about you?

I'm not going to lie to you, this post was supposed to be all about the Radiohead show in Toronto Saturday night, but that show didn't happen so that got scotched. My backup plan for Saturday night and today's post was the NXNE Flaming Lips show with Of Montreal and Portugal. The Man, but James Wild beat me to the punch yesterday with his review of that evening's events. Bereft of ideas and pressed for time I have no choice to inflict an Odds and Sods on you. I'll try to make it worth your while...

• Here's that performance of Radiohead's "Knives Out" from The Flaming Lips show Saturday night at NXNE, along with Wayne Coyne's comments on the situation. For my part, I approved and appreciated Wayne's sentiments (and the dude who yells "show some respect @#$%ers!" at the :25 mark), and I thought that the Lips' set was much better than the rote Lips show I saw in Rochester last year. The band was feeling it Saturday night, and their performance wasn't phoned in at all, instead it was demonstrably heartfelt, and it gave songs like "Waiting For A Superman,""What Is The Light?","Is David Bowie Dying" and "Do You Realize?" even deeper resonance. There was indeed a somber element to Saturday's revelries at Yonge and Dundas Streets, but for the insane crowd that assembled (that was packed in from the stage right back to the Eaton Centre's doors), the Lips kind of made it alright. 

• Check out this preposterous, wonderful, and NSFW new video clip from Sigur Ros for "Fjogur Piano" off of their excellent current release Valtari. And yes, Shia Leboef is still a jackass.

• I'm really stoked about that Fleetwood Mac tribute album coming out in August featuring Best Coast, Lykke Li, St. Vincent, The New Pornographers, and MGMT based on this preview track featuring the Pornographers tastefully covering "Think About Me" (off of the Mac's underrated 1979 Tusk double album).

• The buffaBLOG Beach Party was great. Big ups to the folks who made it happen.

That's all I got for you folks. Stay cool. No really, it's going to be hot the next few days.

Today, Icelandic indie rock gods Sigur Ros released a video for "Varud" off of their sublime new album Valtari. Directed by Ingibjörg Birgisdóttir (oh I totally copied and pasted that name), the "experimental" clip features a lone gorgeous landscape, extensive visual treatments, morse code; and like everything Sigur Ros, it's beautiful, and utterly and hilariously inscrutable.




Although.... upon further review, I actually think it's a homage to Monty Python's classic "The Semaphore Version of Wuthering Heights" sketch, included at no additional charge for your esteemed consideration. Also, if anybody fluent in morse code and Icelandic translates Heathcliff and Catherine in "Varud," e-mail it to me (thanks in advance).

Just an update folks regarding tonight's Sigur Ros album global streaming event (the so called "Valtari Hour"). Record Theatre will not be streaming the album as previously reported. Stuff happened, it's not happening, and it's (majestic, otherworldly Icelandic) rock and roll- these things happen. Anyway, Valtari is supposed to begin a new phase for the beloved Icelandic indie rockers, but for my money it still sounds like classic Sigur Ros, which is just fine with me because each new iteration of the band's music only expands and deepens their sound without repeating themselves or worse betraying it simply and unnecessarily for the sake of change. Sigur Ros is Sigur Ros, and it is good.


Valtari will still be streaming online at 7 PM all over the world at the Sigur Ros website, and for readers in the following cities with cool radio stations (WBNY really let me down on this one as they were our only hope in Buffalo), on these local radio stations (courtesy of Consequence of Sound):


KEXP – Seattle, WA
WNYC – New York, NY
XPN – Philadelphia, PA
KCMP (The Current) – St. Paul, MN
KTBG – Warrensburg, MO
WFUV – New York, NY
KXT – Dallas, TX
WYEP – Pittsburgh, PA
WTMD – Towson, MD
WBER – Rochester, NY
KRSH – Santa Rosa, CA
FM 94-9 “Big Sonic Chill” – San Diego, CA


Valtari will be in shops and on the interwebs on May 28th.

Okay, I’m a little late on this month’s countdown, so bare with me. Luckily, many of the albums on this list won’t be seeing record store shelves for a couple weeks, so the list can stay relevant for a bit. We’re only a week into May, but it already feels like we’ve entered into summer. When you live in a city that gets overcast by the never-ending shadow of seasonal lag, it’s hard to define months like spring and autumn. I heard once that Buffalo really only has two seasons: snow and construction. Yeah, a bit pessimistic. Still, I'd much rather have an awesome new mix of music to listen to while stuck on the I-90 due to road work instead of a blizzard.

Squeaky Wheel is doing Buffalo a huge solid this Friday (February 24) when they screen Inni, a film by Vincent Morisset featuring Icelandic rock gods Sigur Ros. I didn't think Sigur Ros could top 2007's glorious Heima, which featured the band in a variety of configurations performing for their home country in a staggering variety of settings (indoors, outdoors, in an old quarry, in a dinning room, electric, acoustic, etc.), but they did with Inni. If Heima was hyper-real in it's presentation of Sigur Ros, Iceland, and it's people, Inni unfolds like a fantastic dream, it's heavily processed black and white images capturing the stripped down performance (no strings or brass bands) in it's purist terms through exceedingly bold compositions and expressionist use of light and darkness. In musical terms, Inni is Sigur Ros triumphantly wrapping up a chapter of their lives before moving onto to a new phase and sound that Sigur Ros fans are eagerly waiting for with a magnificent retrospective of their first six albums. In terms of sound and vision, Inni is more than a concert film, it's a pure cinematic experience, and one that you won't forget.


But don't take my word for it, check out the trailer:




And an utterly mesmeric clip of "Festival," from the film:




Inni screens at Squeaky Wheel (712 Main Street) at 7 PM. Tickets are $5 for members, $7 for non members.

Sigur Ros / Vaka by izpogreba

Even when Sigur Ros rocks out it’s usually after a glorious buildup, so instead of just driving around in winter you’re triumphantly.
Sigur Rós - Glósóli by lisagalesloot

Staying chilled out yet alert is important, but hell, it’s cold out, so it’s also important to think about the sun and to occasionally kick out the occasional jam while keeping both hands on the wheel. That’s why listening to Wavves 2^nd album King Of The Beach during the dead of winter always hits the spot, especially if I’m driving on a tight schedule. Spacey, clever, and lousy with propulsive killer surf rock guitar riffs, King of the Beach is also gloriously sun drenched, something that is genuinely good for the soul during these (sometimes) cold winter days and nights. 
King of the Beach by WavvesWavves


But enough about me. Come on Western New Yorkers, what's your favorite winter driving music for spinning out or watching other spin out in our winter wonderland? Comment away.