This Thursday, funeral services and city-widecelebrations were held across Los Angeles to honor slain rapper Ermias Joseph “Nipsey Hussle” Asghedom. Shot fatally outside Marathon Clothing, a store he co-owned near the intersection of Slauson and Crenshaw in South LA, on March 31 by a man policed have identified as Eric Holder, the Grammy-nominated rapper and activist made a name for himself by putting out a series of mixtapes from the mid 2000s onward, finally releasing his acclaimed debut LP Victory Lap just last year on his own label. Admired for his integrity, Nipsey remained staunchly independent and had previously invested in STEM programs for inner-city kids.
Nipsey’s emotional farewell was held at Staples Center and attended by more than 20,000 people, including fans, loved ones, and a few famous faces, too. Tributes poured in from Kendrick Lamar, Jay-Z, Barack Obama, Snoop Dogg, and longtime girlfriend, actress Lauren London, with performances from Jhené Aiko, Stevie Wonder, and others. While his funeral procession, for the most part, brought many LA residents together, violence erupted on Thursday afternoon when a drive-by shooting at 103 and Main resulted in another senseless death. Tragically, this would’ve been the last thing Nipsey wanted; he was set to meet with LAPD officials to find ways to end gang violence in his community, despite his former affiliation with a sub-group of the Crips. His death is still under investigation but appears to stem from a personal conflict and is not believed to be gang-related. He was 33.
That New New
I never need to watch another music video (or eat another potato) again thanks to this starchy bit of Tierra Whack genius.
Kaytranada teamed up with VanJess for “Dysfunctional,” a teaser single for the as yet unannounced follow-up to 2016’s 99.9%.
Hand Habits’ placeholder LP came out in March and remains one of the best of the year thus far; check out this video for “wildfire,” which was inspired by the recent California wildfires and makes a poignant statement about our 24-hour news cycle.
Ahead of their May tour with Refused and the Hives, Bleached have returned with a stripped down song called “Shitty Ballet,” their first single since 2017 EP Can You Deal?
Emily Reo’s Only You Can See It is out today, and she’s shared the video for its lead single “Strawberry” to celebrate.
Mega Bog has released the first single from their forthcoming concept album Dolphine (out June 28 via Paradise of Bachelors).
SASAMI put together a video starring her grandma for the single “Morning Comes,” from her excellent self-titled debut, out now.
Blonde Redhead frontwoman Kazu Makino is going solo with her forthcoming album Adult Baby (and she’s launching a record label of the same name). Details are scant for now, but there’s a video for the vibey first single, “Salty,” which features Ryuichi Sakamoto, Mauro Refosco (of Atoms For Peace), and Ian Chang (Son Lux).
Aldous Harding is back with another song from her forthcoming LP Designer, out April 26 via 4AD.
Atlanta’s Mattiel has announced the release of their sophomore album Satis Factory via ATO Records (out June 14) with a fun video for lead single “Keep the Change.”
Brooklyn band Crumb prep their debut full-length Jinx for release in June with a video for its lead single, “Nina.”
Jackie Mendoza continues her streak of beguiling biligual electronica with “Mucho Más,” from forthcoming LuvHz (out April 26 on Luminelle Recordings).
Clinic are set to release their first album in seven years, Wheeltappers And Shunters, on May 10 via Domino Recordings. After previously sharing a video for its first single “Rubber Bullets,” the art-rock weirdos return with “Laughing Cavalier.”
Longtime Animal Collective videographer Danny Perez has directed a truly bizarre Dating Game-meets-Beetlejuice video for the title track to Panda Bear’s recently released Buoys.
Recent Partisan Records signees Pottery have shared another single, called “The Craft,” from their No. 1 EP, which comes out May 10.
Feminist art-punk quartet French Vanilla have a new LP coming out on June 7 called How Am I Not Myself? and have shared its lead single “All the Time.”
Amsterdam’s Pip Blom drums up some anticipation for Boat (out May 31 via PIAS/Heavenly) with a video for latest single “Ruby.”
Courtney Barnett shared Tell Me How You Really Feel outtake “Everybody Here Hates You” ahead of its official Record Store Day single release for Rough Trade (the exclusive 7″ will also feature B-side “Small Talk”).
Watch Fanclub’s Leslie Crunkilton play a crushed out ghost in the video for their latest song, “Uppercut.”
If you’re missing SXSW, The Pinheads have your cure – their video for “Feel It Now” compiles footage from this year’s festivities, including the band’s set at Burgerama 8. The Aussie’s sophomore record Is This Real comes out May 24.
West Virginian indie rockers Ona release Full Moon, Heavy Light on May 10 and have shared its mellow second single “Young Forever.”
Jesca Hoop has signed to Memphis Industries for the release of her next LP STONECHILD, which arrives July 5. It’s first single, Shoulder Charge, features Lucius.
Swedish supergroup Amason announced the August release of their first record since 2015’s Sky City with a new single, “You Don’t Have to Call Me.”
The National shared a cinematic video for “Light Years,” from I Am Easy to Find, out May 17.
End Notes
Now in its 12th year, Record Store Day promises another Saturday afternoon of rare releases, in-store performances, and general celebration of all things vinyl for dedicated crate-diggers and more casual music fans alike.
Radiohead has issued a statement on the now-concluded investigation of the 2o12 death of their drum technician during a stage collapse in Toronto.
A new clip for Perfect, the Eddie Alcazar film being released by Brainfeeder’s recently-established movie production house, features snippets of its soundtrack by Flying Lotus (who says his next LP is ready).
Vampire Weekend will celebrate the release of their next album Father of the Bride with three New York shows in Buffalo, Kingston, and a day-long affair at Webster Hall that includes a bagel breakfast, pizza lunch, and three separate sets (including one that will consist of the new LP in its entirety).
Coachella is upon us! In addition to the premiere of Childish Gambino and Rihanna’s Guava Island film, the festival will feature Billie Eilish, Ariana Grande, Lizzo, Janelle Monáe, Anderson .Paak, Maggie Rogers, Kacey Musgraves, Christine and the Queens, the first US appearances by Black Pink and Rosalía, and more. But the legendary fest hasn’t been without conflict; Solange dropped out this week, citing production issues, and a worker was killed in a fall setting up for the fest last weekend. In happier news, a new doc about Beyoncé’s epic headline performance last year is set to hit Netflix April 17; watch the trailer below.
Jennifer Clavin has a stern message for rock critics, and it comes in the form of the latest single from her band Bleached, “Can You Deal?” It’s the title track from a forthcoming four-song EP (which will be out on Dead Oceans March 3rd), and it was inspired by Clavin’s frustration with a music community more focused on her gender than on the content of her records. Last year, Bleached released their sophomore album, Welcome The Worms, and it dealt with some pretty heavy topics – abusive relationships, drug and alcohol addiction, searching for a sense of self – and pound for pound, each scorching guitar riff matched those issues with raucous gravitas. The production dwarfed the lo-fi sound of their debut record, 2013’s Ride Your Heart. But Clavin says that relatively few music writers wanted to delve into any of that; instead, one question kept coming up in interviews: the dreaded, reductive, “What’s it like to be a girl in band?”
It’s a tricky question, one that assumes male-ness as the default; no one would ask a male musician what it’s like to be a guy in a band. If the question is rephrased to exclude gender markers, it becomes, simply, “What’s it like to be a person in a band?” which reveals how acutely lazy the sentiment behind the question is. A woman cannot compare her experience as a woman in a band to this supposed “default” because she exists as a woman even when she’s not playing music. There are lots of musicians, Bleached included, who sing about personal experiences in their work, and while the best confessional songwriting taps into something relatable and universal, it’s still rooted in something specific. There is no universal experience that all women share based on their gender, but “Can You Deal?” points out how frequently folks seem to forget that.
More often than not, women are asked this question as a means of provoking some kind of feminist declaration. That can feel like a trap for a band or musician that doesn’t focus on politics in their work, especially since men are never asked to take a similar stance. It’s obvious that there’s still gender bias in the music industry – from festival line-ups that favor male acts, to rude sound guys who dismiss female players’ ability and know-how, to ads for gear featuring scantily clad models – and for some musicians, that’s certainly worth discussing. But asking a woman to re-live whatever gender-based affronts she’s experienced (which are, arguably, part of a larger system of patriarchal culture) doesn’t combat the issue in any real way, especially when it comes at the expense of ignoring the actual art that she’s making, the influences behind it, or what she hopes to achieve with it.
In the interest of putting this very tired question to bed once and for all, Clavin compiled essays, visual art, poetry, and lyrics from dozens of women in the industry. The resulting zine is also called “Can You Deal?” and features work from her bandmates, as well as Lizzo, Tegan Quin, Patty Schemel, Jane Weidlin, Liz Phair, Sadie Dupuis, Alice Glass, EMA, Julien Baker, Mish Way, Hayley Williams and more; it’s out the same day as the EP and all proceeds go to Planned Parenthood. Bleached will be touring to promote both throughout April, and hopefully this time around, Clavin will get to spend more time professing her love for Black Sabbath than railing against stereotypes.
Listen to “Can You Deal?” below and pre-order the LP here.
After appearing at almost every music festival that summer had to offer this year, HAIM returned to Los Angeles for two nights of homecoming shows that were destined to be nothing short of a kick ass homage to the city that made them who they are. Lots of L.A. love was being thrown around for their second night at the Wiltern. Their openers, a valley girl punk band called Bleached, got the 818 area code sistas to rally for most of their show (that’s not to say the gentlemen and non 818ers in the crowd, which made up a considerable amount of the audience that night, were not feelin’ the love).
Bleached was the perfect opener for what was going to be a rockin’ girl fest. Sisters Jessica and Jennifer Clavin exude that classic punk girl attitude, a seemingly effortless style of performing that feels like a peek inside a garage jam session. Later in the show, Este Haim would admit that that’s exactly the vibe they were going for – the old jam sessions they used to have at their house parties when their parents were out of town. Bleached could certainly be that band straight out of the epic house party from your teenage years. With little stage production and a pretty packed house, they were not phased by opening for an act as wildly popular as HAIM; they treated the crowd like the old chums that brought the keg to the party. The performer-audience relationship deepened when their stage hand started throwing out Capri Suns to the crowd. Within their hour long set, they played a good chunk of their latest LP, 2013’s Ride Your Heart, along with some older stuff from a few of their earlier EPs. Even up in the very last row of The Wiltern on the top balcony, it felt like a kickback California punk show, with lots of sweat included.
By the time HAIM took the stage, the air in the theatre had congealed into a sticky humid mess. I wasn’t even in the pit and I was fading fast until that echoing thud of “Falling” rung through the night. From that point on the energy never ebbed as the crowd erupted immediately into a dance party. The best thing about a live HAIM show is that something comes through in the flesh that is absent on the recorded album. Aside from that attitude that can only be exuded by Este’s infamous bass face, the sisters’ instrumentation is exuberant in a live setting. The bass is more jarring, the vocal harmonies are more impressive and Danielle flashes her chops as a guitarist in a way that makes you wonder why the hell there aren’t more guitar solos on the album.
As they have been doing for months, they covered “Oh Well” by Fleetwood Mac three songs into the set, further proving that there’s something very classic and also eclectic about their style. Their rendition of the song shows that that their roots are founded deeply in classic rock. The best performance of the night was easily “My Song 5,”which was right in the middle of the set. Este admitted to the crowd that playing it is her favorite part of the night because the song gets people to “shake their asses,” and the audience happily fulfilled her predictions, lifting their voices in the best sing along of the night as every single person in the place chanted “Honey, I’m not your honey pie.” And I certainly wasn’t alone in my air guitarring and head banging for this song.
Afterward, the girls kicked it down a notch with a new rendition of “Running if You Call My Name.” This version features Danielle solely on guitar for the first two verses and doesn’t pick up until the bridge. It was yet another moment in the show that Danielle stole the performance by virtue of how talented a guitarist she is. They finished off the set with “Forever” and a confetti explosion to boot, which in my experience makes any concert ten times more magical.
When they returned for an encore, Danielle jumped on the drums for a cover of Beyonce’s “XO.” Every single girl in the crowd went nuts for the Queen Bey cover its insanity rivaled only with the pandemonium that ensued with follow-up “The Wire.” I knew it would be the crowd favorite but people started dancing on the stairs and in the aisle- a girl in front of us literally took up the span of five seats for her overly excited dance move which involved sidling back and forth and throwing her arms out as wide as she could. I was disappointed to see that a lot of people bailed after “The Wire” – if you’re a true HAIM fan you are not going to miss the “Let Me Go” finale. It’s just not right. The girls complete every show with this rendition of the song, culminating with all three sisters wailing on drums in a primal evocation. There’s a strong sense of finality that comes with this ending and it’s blasphemous to willingly miss it.
Whether you are in the front row of the pit or at the highest point on the balcony, when you are at a HAIM show you become a part of the greater HAIM experience and will witness one of the best rock shows you’ve ever seen. It’s amazing that after months of nonstop touring, they can pull off two solid shows so effortlessly. Their stint on the road is coming to an end very soon, so I’m more than pleased that I caught one of these astounding homecoming shows. If you’re in Seattle or Portland you’ve got another chance to catch these incredible sisters before they play FYF Fest in Los Angeles; in October they head to Mexico City for Festival Corona Capital.
Holing up in a bungalow down the street from a yuppie mall had its decided advantages. There was a pool (though it was a bit chilly for swiming, we stuck our sore, swollen feet in more than a few evenings) a decent amount of peace & quiet, a sleepy looking orange cat who was feral but friendly enough to come say hello in the mornings, and proximity to Waterloo Records, where Boise dream pop darlings Youth Lagoon played to packed parking lot. The ephemeral tracks on debut album Year of Hibernation were recorded by 22-year-old Trevor Powers, who on stage hunches over a keyboard and wails earnestly into a microphone, while friends from the bands he’s played in his whole life back him up. Youth Lagoon have played a few NYC shows to much acclaim but I’d been hesitant to check them out, worried that all the bleary wonder of Hibernation would would dissipate, eroded by the boys’ precociousness, but I’m happy to say that it was in no way a detriment. While Hibernation is imbued with a huge but lonely sound, it doesn’t suffer at all in a live setting as I had feared it would. In fact, their faithful renditions and impassioned delivery were a great reminder of what makes Youth Lagoon’s slow-building, languid anthems so fresh and immediate. Maybe all my misgivings were indicative of my disdain for growing older (or feeling older, really), and let’s be real – in New York, I’d probably be surrounded by college undergrads still suffering from acne. Instead, I had the unusual pleasure of being encircled by a diverse audience that even included families with children, illustrating Youth Lagoon’s wide appeal and accessibility. It was a lovely afternoon treat, to be sure.
I headed downtown for the Village Voice showcase at Red Eyed Fly, a bar setup I was now becoming familiar with for its typical Austinness – divey hunting-lodge interior, dusty patio with scraggly trees, cheap Lone Star tallboys. Outside, L.A.-based babes Bleached were setting up. Last October they’d taken CMJ by storm but I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of taking in their fiery, in-your-face garage rock. They blazed through a rollicking set, slaying hearts and eardrums. Fronted by sisters Jessica and Jenn Calvin, Bleached fully satisfies all my riot grrl leanings of years past – they play fun, fast, and loose, in a nonchalantly sexy kind of way, snaring you with their trashed-up brand of eye candy but then proceeding to melt faces.
After a few songs I moseyed inside to see Pyschic Ills. The band’s 2011 release on Sacred Bones, Hazed Dream, sees the band’s culmination as blues-infused stoned-out psych droners. Before a backdrop of thick, raggedy velvet curtains, Brandon Davis’ sprawling keys, and the thudding bass of gothy-romantic Elizabeth Hart, backed the heavily glazed drawl and meandering guitarwork of Tres Warren, clad in grungy denim. By now I was convinced that everything is just louder in Texas. Psychic Ills’ normally mellow vibe was here amped up high enough to blast through concrete, though that wasn’t a huge loss. The highlight for me was sexy slow-burner “I’ll Follow You Through The Floor”, which got treated with a little extra jamming out. Between Bleached and Psychic Ills it was great to get a healthy dose of rock-n-roll from some bands with a more traditional set-up, since it seemed that this year’s acts were largely favoring tables of electronics to actual instruments.
Class Actress also played the showcase, and falls squarely into the former category. While they did have a drummer instead of a machine that played drum sounds, the line-up still hinges on the guy-with-gadgets/charismatic-girl-with-mic dynamic. When I’d first seen them it was just after their inception, opening for Yeasayer. In that time I would say that though their sound has not diverged much from their initial vision they’ve certainly come into their own. Elizabeth Harper’s carefully honed stage persona is nothing short of rock star – she wore mirrored shades the whole time, flitting across the stage, shimmying before the swooning audience as if it were one of her first SXSW performances rather than, by her count, the ninth in five days. She performs as if born to do so; in watching Harper’s flirtatious stage moves you could just as well be watching her do a photo shoot in a fashion magazine. This is a quality she’s always possessed, but she’s grown even more bold in her role not just as singer but as entertainer, never content to be relegated to a position behind the keyboard she mostly ignored throughout the set. The glamour-infused party jams from 2011’s Rapprocher were incredibly well-received by the crowd; it was hard to tell if these folks had just happened onto the scene and become instant converts or if they were long-term fans seeking out the chance to dance along with their idols.
Because Saturday was not just the final day of SXSW but also St. Patrick’s Day, the streets were flooded with a hoard of idiots dressed in green clothing, so I’d had enough of that scene for a while. Besides, Sun Araw and Cloudland Canyon were playing a so-unofficial-it’s-practically-secret gig with some electronic drone and psych bands at the Monofonus Press compound, a crust-punk utopia four miles outside the downtown area in a remote sector of far East Austin. In a maze of salvaged vintage trailers and corrugated tin sculpture was situated a grassy stage. The trees were decorated with blown glass ornaments and rusting basketball hoops. There was an inexplicable pit of abandoned bowling balls, next to which some middle-aged hippies had spread a comfy patchwork blanket on which to mind their unwashed children. Colorful DIY merch was spread on those over-sized spools, as were a pile of free zines, one of which was entitled Cool Magic Tricks for Teens (I snapped that one up immediately). Say what you will about a scene such as this, but after unwittingly absorbing the barrage of marketing campaigns being hurled at me by every corporation with a stake in SXSW, it was nice to be in a space free of advertisements. Not to mention, I got to enjoy the sedated set offered by Cloudland Canyon, whose droning, drowned psych rock I’ve loved since the release of their stunning Requiems Der Natur, a compilation of the Krautrock-influenced vibes they’d explored in the early part of the decade. It had been my plan to arrive in time to catch Sun Araw’s set, but I’d somehow confused the set-times and so only caught the last brilliant moments of a few of their submerged, tropicalia-laced jams.
Cloudland Canyon’s furious knob-twisting resulted in a woozy wave of noise most informed by the sounds on their 2010 release Fin Eaves. The crunchy, skittering synth effects and dense, distorted guitar melodies melded thickly in the balmy air, cascading through the leafy heights of attendant elms. Up in the farthest reaches, Kip Uhlhorn’s insistent moan arced through these saturated compositions, acting more as instrumental component than sonic focus. Uhlhorn’s wife, Kelly, was welcome addition to the band after the departure of longtime collaborator Simon Wojan, her stoic electronic manipulations melding everything together in a terrific wave of lush squall. I was so blissed on their performance I didn’t even whip out my iPhone to snap pics or capture video, as I am often wont to do; the kaleidoscopic magic of the Monofonus compound, bathed in the bubbling, staticky lull provided by Cloudland Canyon, hardly seemed the place for such obtrusive, new-fangled machinations.
A friend of mine I’d not seen in ages suggested we meet at House of Commons, a DIY showspace in a huge house on the University of Texas campus, so I eventually peeled myself from my grassy slumber and headed Northwest. The campus area is pretty revolting even with all the pledges out of town for Spring Break, although not unlike my own experience of the sprawling OSU campus in Columbus. Added to my deja vu and general disgust, the fact that this friend of mine was a no show made me want to get the hell out of there, but I figured I might as well grab some food that wasn’t made in a truck (also a big mistake; I had the most desultory bahn mi I’ve ever eaten)so I started wandering around. I was hearing music coming from somewhere, and it didn’t take so long to figure out it was coming from the back of an Urban Outfitters and the performer was none other my girl Grimes. It was obviously packed to capacity so I grabbed a chair from a nearby patio and craned my neck over the fence with a few others who had been denied at the door. She seemed to have slept in the clothes I’d seen her in last night and was still suffering from vocal strain but as I now KNOW I’ve mentioned before I’m in love with Claire Boucher, so it didn’t matter.
Afterwards, I did poke around HoC a bit, as Cleveland’s HotChaCha was playing. This is a band I’ve already seen far more times necessary, due to the fact that they’re from Ohio and we have some mutual friends. By the time and Jovanna Batkovic and Co. had started bringing their YeahYeahYeahs-esque brand of dance punk around Columbus I was kind of over that scene, but had still admired the talented all-girl line-up for their bravado as well as their skilled playing. Unfortunately, like most things coming out of Cleveland, HotChaCha has deteriorated from their former gloried state as I remember it from my youth. In this somewhat pitiful and desperate incarnation of the band, Jovanna dramatically burned herself with cigarettes and her friend took over the mic at one point to perform an impromptu rap about hipsters. Weird times are still good times, but I’d had enough of both, so it was back to civilization for me.
I decided to do a second round Cheer Up Charlie’s, where Javelin and Teengirl Fantasy were on the bill. To start, I’m not sure what Javelin were doing at SXSW this year; the showcase they’d played two years ago to the day in the exact same location made a lot more sense as that’s when Javelin was really on the rise, making a name for themselves as partytime sound collagists who blend every style from disco to R&B to funk to pop. But they’ve since established quite a reputation for themselves and as far as I know don’t have a new release coming out anytime soon. That’s not to say their presence wasn’t much enjoyed; their live shows are infused with the kind of energy usually seen in daycares where the charges are provided with espresso shots. Cousins George Langford and Tom van Buskirk know how to throw a party, and it’s nice to see them branching out and expanding their talents as musicians (Tom had a guitar on stage, which he told the crowd he was learning to play) while staying true to their DIY junk-shop pop ethos. Shortly into the set, one of the speakers blew, but a quick change-up gave the dudes new life and new excuses to bring the noise. All the improvisational elements of Javelin’s live shows were here as well, from made-up-on-spot verses to a cover of “Sabotage” that Nite Jewel tweeted was the “whitest” thing she’s ever heard, possibly because she forgot that the Beastie Boys, too, are white.
Following up such an animated performance with the same gusto was no small challenge. Oberlin grads Logan Takahashi and Nick Weiss are beatsmiths of the finest order, and though their delivery of tracks from 2010’s 7am was a bit more scaled back it still had the crowd dancing. Like a bottle of cheapish champagne chilled to just the right temperature, TGF popped off tracks like “Cheaters” and “Portofino” with at synths and samples at once glistening and fuzzy. The highlight of the set featured an appearance from vocalist Kilela Mizankristos who brought some serious soul to TGF’s disco pop flourishes.
After the set, I headed to Longbranch Inn to check out Impose Magazine’s final showcase. The venue was running behind schedule, so I walked in on the last of Xander Harris’s droney electronic set. He was followed by Sapphire Slows, a Tokyo-based electronic composer who effectively hides behind a tiny set-up of gadgets and keyboards and shifts around listlessly while reproducing her submerged but polished beats by pushing a bevy of buttons. Layering laconic vocals over her sultry compositions proved an effective means of winning over the audience; I heard one guy repeatedly gushing over how stoked he was to see a female truly deliver on an electronic performance (apparently he didn’t get a chance to see Grimes?). While Sapphire Slows’ rhythms are moody and honed to perfection, there wasn’t much to see in terms of her delivery. She remained pretty stiff, her stare a bit blank, as if trying to remember which knob to twist. It didn’t help that I was surrounded by the tallest audience ever, including a dude well over 6’5” in a Kevin-Arnold style Jets jacket that Paul and Winnie could have also climbed into to camp out in. Every time I thought I’d secured a spot with some decent visibility, some overgrown Austinite would lurch in front of me. I was finally jostled into a corner between a jukebox and the edge of the stage where I could perch while Tearist delivered the most mind-blowing performance I saw all week.
Not knowing much about L.A. band Tearist prior to SXSW, my only expectations were based on a glowing review of a set a friend had caught earlier in the week. Vocalist/feral child Yasmine Kittles stood on stage, tiny in an oversized camouflaged hunting parka with her brown tresses done up in a huge top knot. She carried a large, rusting table fan onto the stage and set it to blowing, tugging her hair down around her face and removing the jacket to reveal a tiny frame clad in black lacy top, leather shorts, and ripped tights. The fan whipped her wildly around wide black eyes lined with black mascara. She howled over a sludgy backdrop of insistent beats and grinding synths produced by her cohort, William Strangeland-Menchaca, her voice deep and resonant. She writhed across the stage as if performing some ritual, lifting her arms up and sweeping them to the floor in one gracious motion. At one moment she was kneeling, at another attempting to climb the Impose-bannered curtains. Throughout the set, Kittles maintained an intensity in her faraway gaze as if the seething masses worshipping her at the foot of the stage were no present, but was also acutely aware of her surroundings, like a caged animal searching for an escape route. The visceral, almost autistic urgency in Kittles’ performance is consistently anchored by the stoic presence of Strangeland-Menchaca, whose rhythms sizzle and pop. They are punctuated by Kittles’ occasional swings at hammered metal box she holds in one hand and attacks with a metallic receiver she holds in the other, the sound coming out somewhere between a clashing clap and electronic thunderbolt. I obviously see a lot of live music, and I’ve seen performances of this nature more than a few times, but there’s simply something about Tearist that is specifically mesmerizing, exciting, and electrifying. With Kittles’ unabashed lack of self control, you’re left to wonder what she’ll do next; its as though she’s suffering some intense rite of passage and every shred of intensity is both turned inward and focused on deliverance outward, like lava flowing from an erupting volcano.
Peaking Lights offered a mellowed change of pace, providing the perfect comedown. While 2009’s Imaginary Falcons was a sublime piece of psych drone, it was last year’s widely acclaimed 936 that broke the band to larger audiences. Hailing from Wisconsin, married couple Indra Dunis and Aaron Coyes meld together swirling, heady notes with dubby 8-tracked beats, forming a narcotic poetry. Looking ever part the opium-den goddess, Indra swayed back and forth, alternately shaking maracas, tickling the keys of a tiny vintage piano, and crooning into her mic, clothed in yellow silks depicting peacocks. Coyes was a more unassuming entity in his jean jacket, manning drum machines and samples with an occasional shake or nod of his head. The set was shortened by the closing of the bar, the show having run way past its 2am end time. While doped-up devotional “Amazing and Wonderful” was sadly missing, the set was an interesting look into what we can expect from upcoming release “Lucifer”, likely to be a bit more playful and perhaps even disco inspired, as their most recent mixtape indicates.
Though Longbranch had let the band keep playing beyond last call, once the last beats faded the lights came up and the bartender shouted, “That’s it, folks… South by Southwest is over, thank fucking God!” I’m guessing it gets pretty grating on locals to have thousands of hard-drinking, heavy-partying music fans descend on your otherwise quiet, quirky little patch of dirt, even if they are stimulating your local economy and putting you on the map in the most innovative tech, music and film circles.
I had to go meet up with my posse, who were at that time witnessing the now infamous Vice party in which Trash Talk prepped their wily fans to turn A$AP Rocky’s set into an all-out brawl. I waited patiently while a throng of disbelieving revelers trudged out of the venue and into the dust, likely as exhausted from all the insanity as I was. Nothing lasts forever, as they say, and though I’d missed my opportunity to see more than a handful of acts I’d really been looking forward to catching, I was walking away having seen over thirty bands in the space of four days. My phone had no remaining memory for photos or videos. I’d earned eight badges in fourSquare. Including transportation and lodging, I’d spent less that $400 bucks. And I’d be back to do it all again next year, no doubt.
Ticket Giveaways
Each week Audiofemme gives away a set of tickets to our featured shows in NYC! Scroll down to enter for the following shindigs.
