Welcome to our weekly show recommendation column RSVP HERE – your source for the best NYC shows and interviews with some of our favorite local live bands.
photo credit: Michael Amaral
I first heard about Bad Waitress from a friend who described their live set as “a 100mph party train ride,” and they have been on my radar to see their next grand return to NYC ever since. Hailing from Toronto, ON, Bad Waitress are Canada’s premiere alt-punk party band consisting of Kali-Ann Butala (vox/guitar), Katelyn Molgard (guitar), Nicole Cain (bass) and Eva Moon (drums). Today they have released “That Sedative,” their first single and video since 2018 (watch below), and this week they will be rocking NYC at Mercury Lounge on January 22nd with Castle Rat and Old Lady. We chatted with them about their experiences touring in the US vs. Canada and their upcoming trip to Las Vegas.
AF: What is the difference between touring in Canada vs touring the US?
BW: US has shorter drives… and a lot of signs for selling fireworks and Jesus.
AF: What are your favorite cities to play in the US and Canada? What’s the craziest drive you’ve ever done on tour? Craziest tour story in general?
BW: It’s hard to choose really! Every city has its own place in our hearts but so far Detroit, Brooklyn, and Montreal have been major highlights. Our craziest drive hands down was straight from Toronto to Saskatoon which lasted 32 hours. Still have nightmares of that… woof!
We have so many crazy stories. One that sticks out is the mysterious black eye Kali got after our weekend playing Fest in Gainesville. Still don’t know to this day! Playing Crystal Lake fest two years ago was insane too. Katelyn met a woman who was former world champion body builder and ended up crashing at a Christian retreat owned by said body builder’s father while Kali disappeared into the woods while on acid to softly fall asleep in a nest of pine needles.
AF: You’re playing Punk Rock Bowling festival in Las Vegas next May. What bands are you most excited to see?
BW: We’re definitely stoked for Lunachicks. They are clearly a huge inspiration for our drummer Eva’s fashion sense. Haha. Also Cock Sparrer and Propaghandi.
AF: What other plans do you have for 2020 post-record release?
BW: We are playing at the Mercury Lounge in Manhattan January 22 and also playing New Colossus in Brooklyn in March as well as SXSW and Pouzza in Montreal! So much to do!
Frankie Rose’s penchant for lo-fi garage pop is pretty obvious by now—not only did she play key roles, over the years, as a member of the Vivian Girls, Dum Dum Girls, and Crystal Stilts, but she also developed her own sound as a solo artist. Now she’s teamed up with Drew Citron (from her touring band) for a new project called Beverly, and it might just be her best effort yet. The duo’s second single, “You Can’t Get It Right,” is a sweet taste of their upcoming debut album, Careers, out July 1 via Kanine Records.
The song has a lo-fi aesthetic with catchy guitar hooks that sound warped and almost menacing as the girls sing “And maybe this time you’ll know to get in line with me.” They bare their teeth at the same time that they flash a sweet smile. The overall sound brings The Breeders/The Amps to mind, but this tune’s got a faster heartbeat and brighter tone that makes it perfect for summer.
“You Can’t Get It Right” follows the release of Beverly’s first single, “Honey Do,” which is an equally catchy and fuzzy track. Both are good indications that Careers will be one of this summer’s highlights. Check out this week’s track of the week below!
It’s July, a month in which listing the best albums of the year so far has become nearly as ubiquitous in the blogosphere as making a list of the best albums of the year in December. Here at Audiofemme, we aren’t so much into ranking the releases of the last six months as we are simply highlighting the music that’s made us super excited to be doing what we’re doing. The following list is by no means comprehensive – we really need some more time with the new Spiritualized record to wrap our brains around it. We can barely keep up with the bi-monthly output of, say, Ty Segall or Family Perfume. We’re saving ourselves on that Sigur Ros album til we see them live in Prospect Park at the end of this month. Dirty Projectors’ Swing Lo Magellan deserves a whole essay rather than a brief blurb. And you’re probably already tired of hearing about how great Grimes is, so we took a mini-break from extolling her virtues. We have a feeling we’ll still be raving over the following selections in six months, so you’ve got plenty of time to run down to the record store and buy us some vinyl before the holidays hit.
Death Grips – The Money Store: Zach Hill’s newest side project melts faces in a way that last year’s Exmilitary only hinted was possible. Its innovative melding of experimental hip-hop rhythms and aggressive lyrical flow, paired with rapid-fire samples and grinding electronics manages to harness an intense energy while avoiding the pitfalls of akin genres which can be grating, uncreative, and way overhyped (coughcoughdubstepcough). It’s hard to get over an opening scorcher like “Get Got” (especially when producer Andy Morin turns up the echo on Stefan Burnett’s staccato “stopstopstopstopstopstopstop”) but the album is full of dark gems and deep jams. Fuzzy gongs resonate through “Double Helix”, detached blurbs of sampled pop keys bubble out over “Hustle Bones”, “Fuck That’s” bouncy bongos back Burnett’s riotous yells, gloried synth hooks adorn “Bitch Please”. The group will release a companion album, No Love, in the fall of this year, so it will be interesting to see how the two albums play off one another. Not to mention we’ve got our fingers crossed for an insane tour.
Purity Ring – Shrines: What began as a mysterious and infectious single from a band with the same name as a nearly forgotten emo-punk outfit has transcended its steady trickle of carefully guarded tracks into an auspicious debut that crackles and explodes. The band’s innovative live show is just one angle from which they’ve perfected their aesthetic, and every moment on Shrines feels like magic. Megan James and Corin Roddick deftly transform what are essentially pop songs into something closer to fairy tales, helped by James’ abstract poetics and Roddick’s well-timed production. Album standout “Fineshrines” is a perfect example of the way the two work together, and it still breaks my brain after about a thousand listens, somehow capturing exactly what I always want to feel in song form.
Friends – Manifest!: Anticipation for the debut from Brooklyn-based band Friends began building last year with the release of their single “I’m His Girl”, quite possibly the best argument for open relationships to garner any sort of popularity since TLC’s “Creep”. With that kind of momentum, there’s always a danger that a band might not live up to the hype. But Friends have offered a collection of songs that are not only ultra-catchy and party-ready but also delve into complex topics like female relationships and self-respect with surprising intelligence. Initial fears that lead singer Samantha Urbani’s vocals might at times become grating or that her hip-hop influenced style might lead to some embarrassing moments á la Blondie’s “Rapture” are quickly put to ease – the girl not only has style for miles but a strong set of pipes as well.
Mac DeMarco – Rock and Roll Night Club: In March Captured Tracks released Canadian creepster Mac DeMarco’s seedy, darkly-tinged debut in which he “recorded a whole bunch of songs on a 4-track, slowed them down, sang like Elvis, and slowed that down a little bit too”. The result is presented as an artifact from another universe where radio a.) still exists b.) dials from grimy “96.7 The Pipe” to groovy “106.2 The Breeze” and c.) plays nothing but blocks of Mac DeMarco tracks. The result makes me wish DeMarco would stalk me. I’d pretend I didn’t like it, but I’d start spending more time in dark alleys hoping I’d catch him in the act. Though DeMarco’s approach is sometimes comical and his live presence purposely pushes the awkward, the languid guitar riffs do feel like something of a lost transmission from an alternate reality where pop music has been distorted for the better. If Rock and Roll Night Club were a physical location, I’d invoke 30 Rock’s Liz Lemon by repeatedly saying “I want to go to there” until I was transported. Fortunately, the album does aurally what science has yet to accomplish.
Phédre – Phédre: For a band that pretty much came out of nowhere (actually, it was Toronto), Phédre has managed to blow us away. Their self-titled debut is loaded with infectious production but sealed with the gritty kiss of DIY ethos. The trio (formed by Airick Woodhead, April Aliermo, and Daniel Lee) has created a perfect balance of hyperactive hooks and slowed-down sludge, while distorted, bleary male and female vocals act as oozing cherry on the melted sundae of it all. There’s rapping, there’s punk rock, and there’s lots of sexual innuendos and nods to mythology. Listening to this record feels like taking part in an orgy without the messy and awkward reality of one. What should be a hot mess is actually mesmerizing, an effect enhanced by the feeling that the band never takes themselves too seriously due to a preference for nonsense and debauchery.
Peaking Lights – Lucifer: Having a five-month old son hasn’t slowed Aaron Coyes and Indra Dunis down one bit. They’re still touring and have just released a new album that sees them further exploring the experimental electronic routes they’ve breached since forming their band. Lucifer is loop-laden, playful, and showcases Peaking Lights’ trademark fuzzy disco dub on most backing tracks, but there’s more sensitive material here as well. The couple’s tribute to their son, Miko, appears early in the album as a pretty little piano ditty. After dabbling in these lovely, lazy beginnings, the back half of the record lands the listener squarely in Peaking Lights’ wheelhouse, with Coyes’ oscillating samples and eclectic, watery beats pinning down Dunis’ smoky, echoic vocals. It’s the perfect follow-up to last year’s breakout 936 and an automatically wistful portrait of the band at this moment in their careers and personal lives.
Radiation City – Cool Nightmare: This little noise-pop gem was initially circulated via bandcamp by the Portland based quintet. It’s the follow-up to a critically acclaimed debut, and the band’s pride in the new work shows – they released gorgeous physical copies on their own label (Apes Tapes), with laser-cut sleeve sheathed milk-white vinyl and a gold cassette tape being among the purchasing options. But it’s the music therein that’s truly mesmerizing. Though guitarist Cameron Spies’ vocals make laconic appearances from time to time, it is the haunting, distant coos by Lizzy Ellison that stick indelibly in one’s grey matter; standout track “Eye of Yours” blends these two elements to perfection upon a palette of ominous piano plunking that blossoms into sunny trumpets and twangy guitar. That piano, by the way, was a decrepit artifact from drummer Randy Bemrose’s basement and became the inspiration for the whole album. Every sound it makes as at deteriorates is part of the auditory landscape on Cool Nightmare, the cover of which it graces. The band laid the ancient instrument to rest in the video for lead-off single “Find It Of Use”.
Frankie Rose – Interstellar: As a former member of several prolific noise pop acts (Vivian Girls, Dum Dum Girls, and Crystal Stilts) one might expect Frankie Rose’s second solo album to be very much in that same sort of vein – jangly guitars, vocal bravado, and pounding drums. But Interstellar sees Rose scale these elements back just enough to set the work totally apart. Her energetic nods to new wave, the vaguely cosmic theme, and cohesive production are perfect foils for the strength of Rose’s songwriting, notable in that it showcases the first moments in which she’s allowed herself to explore a more vulnerable musical persona. But the songs here are anything but wallflower’s anthems; she challenges listeners in lead-off track “Know Me” to drop the pigeonholing game for a moment and examine the depth in what she’s presented. And really, there’s so many hazy, wonderful layers in these tracks that it would be a disservice to oneself not to obey her.
Chromatics – Kill For Love: Johnny Jewel and friends are back after a five-year hiatus during which director Nicolas Winding Refn showed the world their merits by featuring Jewel’s work in his critically acclaimed movie Drive. The band has eschewed the gloss of their 2007 dark disco classic Night Drive for material that is still tightly constructed and very assured but isn’t afraid of its imperfections. It begins with a cover of Neil Young’s “Into the Black” which sets the tone for some incredibly macabre moments made all the more heavy by Ruth Radelet’s haunting vocals. At an hour and a half (scaled down from an alleged thirty-six tracks that the band composed) Kill For Love is almost epic for an electronic album, and weaves a peculiar and solemn beauty through its seventeen tracks. Within this moody context, slightly more hopeful offerings like the title track or “At The Door” glisten and radiate. The record as a whole makes the more lazily produced bedroom pop of the moment seem like the equivalent of a blank stare.
Liars – WIXIW: Liars are well known for exploring spaces and ideas which other bands fear to broach, and in the past that experimentation has manifested itself in layers of thunderous drums, menacing riffs, and hair-raising incantations or equally chilling falsetto. Their sixth studio release, WIXIW (pronounced “Wish You”) is more measured and reserved. The layers are there but they’re more delicate and subtle, taking time to unfurl and mature. Pegged pretty accurately as the band’s foray into electronic music, WIXIW still concerns itself with motifs the band has explored for ten years now, but approaches them from a completely different angle. It’s refreshing not just within Liars’ oeuvre, but against most any album with similar sonic aim. WIXIW proves that electronic production shouldn’t be written off by fans of more traditional music making; in hands so well versed in heavier-hitting rock, the outcome transcends mere curiosity and becomes something astonishing unto itself.
This mix represents some of the best moments of February in terms of new releases and live shows we attended but keeps an eye on the springtime that’s just ahead of us. You won’t find many bombastic summer jams, but hopefully that delicious first blush of warmer weather permeates these tracks. Enjoy!
Mi & L’au – Limouzine: I once sawthis band play in a treehouse. Technically I guess it was a roomsituated around a huge tree, with a bar situated around that. Still,there was a tree! And their songs sounded like the kind of music youmight hear in a treehouse (treehousewave?). If Beauty Is A Crimeis the first new album they’ve put out in a while and at moments itretains an isolated-in-the-woods vibe, here Mi & L’au arebranching out into lots of new territories. This track, with itspulsing, sparkling synths is a great example of those explorations.
Chairlift – I Belong In Your Arms:Caroline Polachek must be taking cues from those she’s collaboratedwith (Washed Out, Guards) in the interim between releasing Somethingand 2008’s Does You Inspire You? Or perhaps it’s just thedifference between putting some thought into making a record insteadof slapping one together because one of your tracks has been featuredin an iPod commercial and you need to capitalize on it instantly. Either way, Chairlift’s new record is a gem filled with soaring newwave declarations, but far less naïve and hokey than its predecessor.
Lapalux – Moments: On this cracklingbeat collage, female vocals (provided by Py) coo “I keep thinkingof you”; likewise, this track is just the kind of earworm thatsticks with you all day. Cascading drum machines, dissonant bells,spacey synths, and tweaked, slowed effects blend seamlessly. Itmight not get a party going, but acts as a perfect anthem for thosestill coming down after the majority of the crowd has shuffled off.
James Blake – The Wilhelm Scream:After seeing a live rendition of this at Carnegie Hall last month,I’ve been listening to this track incessantly. Its slow gorgeousbuild behind Blake’s velvety crooning is almost too much to handle. It seems so sparse on first listen, but every time it slips into therotation, I hear something new come out of it, proving its densityand depth.
School of Seven Bells – Scavenger:We’ll always wonder if this scathing track is about the departure ofhalf of SVIIB’s singing twin duo, but it could just as easily beabout an ex-lover, or an animal that feeds on carrion, I guess. They’re doing just fine without any or all of the above, as new album Ghostory and the live shows they’ve played to promote itprove.
Xiu Xiu – Smear The Queen: I amecstatic that this band is still putting out amazing albums aftertwelve years of making records. The first single from Always,entitled “Hi” is as bold a flirting anthem as they come, andalmost made it onto this mix – until I heard “Smear The Queen”and was blown away by the dual vocals, haywire beats
Hanne Hukkelberg – My Devils: Ifyou’re still confusing Hanne with her Scandinavian counterpart LykkeLi based on the extraordinary prevalence of the letter K in theirnames, please take a moment to realize that this is where thecomparison ends. Featherbrain is far more experimental, representingHukkelberg more as an artist than provocateur. Listening to thistrack is like opening a creepy haunted music-box, her vocals ayearning Pandora struggling to be free of her demons.
Frankie Rose – The Fall: I seriouslycan’t stop listening to or talking about this song. The other day Iwas walking through the park at dusk with this on my headphones,trying to decipher the ethereal layers of lyrics. Every time Ipinned down a line, the next popped up in its place, a mirageshimmering on the aural horizon, superimposed by the nexthallucination.
Grimes – Vowels = space and time:Visions is an amalgamation of everything that is awesome aboutClaire Boucher – bizzaro bedroom pop with Chippettes-esque vocals,long-lost Goth Olsen twin look, deep philosophical musings disguisedby a half-baked twitter feed, a not-so-secret obsession with divas ofthe early 90’s R&B scene. Check out my video below of Grimesperforming “Genesis” last July in an opening set for Washed Out.
Shlohmo – wen uuu: With last year’sBad Vibes, L.A. Producer Henry Laufer strayed from the staidhip-hop beats of his earlier work and live shows and began exploringmore atmospheric sounds and experimental textures. On his threetrack EP Vacation, we can hear him coming through static andinto his own with undeniable success.
Still Corners – Don’t Fall In Love:Tessa Murray has a voice like honey, making her forlorn love songs(or anti-love songs?) that much more heart-rending. This noise popslow-burner isn’t going to do much to warn me away from falling inlove with this band, no matter what the lyrics recommend.
Phèdre – In Decay: This whole albumis brilliant. You know that sexy orgy party that Tom Cruise andNicole Kidman attend in Eyes Wide Shut? Parties similar tothose actually exist, except everyone is as creepy and lonely asyou’d expect, and therefore it isn’t at all sexy. If those partieswere that sexy, but also more hip, this album would be thesoundtrack.
Tennis – My Better Self: Much likeChairlift, husband-and-wife duo Tennis have truly matured with therelease of their second album. Last year’s Cape Dory was fun,but with Young & Old, Tennis have gotten moreintrospective while retaining that carefree pop sound.
Sharon Van Etten – Magic Chords: WhenBecause I Was In Love was released in 2009, almost no one knewwho Sharon Van Etten was. Two albums later, all that has changed. It makes sense, considering that Sharon has one of the most gorgeousvoices I’ve heard in quite a while. Her songwriting skills continueto improve with each effort, though the heavier production on 2010’sEpic and her newest, Tramp,is a bit of a detriment to some of the intimacy and grittinessfrom her first record.
Tropics – Sleepless: Tropics is theproject of Chris Ward, who at 22 has been steadily self-releasing an onslaught of party-ready jams and remixes. This track is a bit moremellow than most of his offerings but it the signature lushness ofWard’s beats are still present. If most of his tunes signify summer,Sleepless unfurls just the way spring does – suddenly you look up,and there are buds in all the trees and birds are chirping.
Cate Le Bon – Put to Work: Le Bon’simpeccable new album Cyrk is exemplified by lead single “PutTo Work”; it’s lilting guitars and insistent drums perfectly anchorthe commanding mystic quality of Le Bon’s vocals. The lyrics fithandily into Le Bon’s work as well – the idea that while one can’thelp but crave human intimacy, love is a total drag that turns usinto awful drones. But the beauty of this sentiment is that she’sresigned to this fact, never chiding or bitter, and the song rolls onwith a fluid, perfect grace.
Yann Tiersen – I’m Gonna Live Anyhow:Perhaps best known for his original soundtracks to films like Amelieand Good Bye Lenin!, last year’s Skyline saw Tiersenreinventing himself once more. Ever the pioneer, these tracksfeature quirky electronic moments and unique vocal rhythmsreminiscent at times of acts like Animal Collective.
Songs of Green Pheasant – Teen Wolf:I’ve long been a fan of Songs of Green Pheasant. The somber brass inthis track really puts it over the edge for me, though I don’t knowwhat it has to do with teens, wolves, or teen wolves.
Sleigh Bells – End of the Line: WithTreats, Sleigh Bells were poised to take over the world (andpretty much did so) and on Reign of Terror, the only thing theyreally have to contend with is the curse of the sophomore slump. With their trademark fearlessness, Alexa Krauss and Derek Miller havedone something completely unexpected – they’ve scaled back thein-your-face guitar blitz and badder-than-though posturing andcrafted something that still manages to pack quite the punch. Thistrack is the perfect example of that new vision, wherein Krausss isno longer striving to remain cool or detached but is actuallyreaching out to the listener, or at least the person to whom the songis addressed, in an engaging way. Reign of Terror is studded withsimilar moments of realness, and it’s the most brave, refreshing movethey could have made.
Shhhh – Bonus TrackThis is what sheheard in the bathtub. RIP.
There’s a certain art to being cool. It requires equal parts detachment, judgement, untouchability, andflippancy. Being cool might make you the envy of your less-than-coolcounterparts, but it’s ultimately an empty, lonely act. Because being vulnerable isn’t cool, being cool entailskeeping others at bay, elevating yourself to a level above theuncool, refusing to let anyone in, and never showing emotion orexcitement because it is somehow unbecoming. It’s a problem that isunique to my generation; though real “cool” barely exists anymoreexcept as a marketing concept many of us have been posturing eversince, fearful of ever revealing the uncool sides of ourselves,deprived of true connection in order to maintain the illusion ofcoolness, feeling pain only when the facade fails us. In the realworld, this looks like a dimly lit bar in which everyone nurses PBRfrom a can and no one talks to anyone. And in that bar, Frankie Rosefills the jukebox.
As a drummer for Vivian Girls, Dum DumGirls, and Crystal Stilts, Frankie Rose was at the forefront of theresurgence of a noise pop movement that took its cues from theintertwining jangle and grit of sixties garage rock and girl groups. In recording her first album as Frankie Rose and the Outs, she neverstrayed far from this sound. Her vocals had begun to take on adreamy sort of submerged quality with her first solo album, recorded under the moniker Frankie Rose and the Outs. But by and large the album, whileexpertly crafted, was nothing new. It was perfect in terms ofcontinuing the sound and vibe that made Frankie something of ahousehold name in indie rock circles. To some, the resume she’dbuilt was not only impressive but impenetrable, unapproachable. Butto be honest, it felt cold and rehearsed and well-worn to me, not arecord I could get behind on an emotional level. It wasn’t bad, butit it wasn’t life-altering and ultimately I lost interest. To jointhe Frankie cult I would have had to buy dark sunglasses and aleather jacket and thrown away all my clothing that wasn’t black, andI probably would have had to spit on anyone who talked about how intoAdele they were. But what I really wanted was license to feel andshare freely with my peers, not judge them or their tastes, not actlike mine are better than anyone else’s.
Here is what I like to imagine happenednext. Frankie was walking through the graffiti-scrawled streets ofWilliamsburg when a white light enveloped her and suddenly, the Earthwas no more than a blue speck far below. Her abductors, benevolentalien beings with glowing solar plexuses, took her on an epicinterplanetary voyage in which she witnessed incomprehensible formsof life and their bizarre customs, each of which held more meaningand beauty than her indie-rock royalty act. She was shown the errorof her ways and told to go forth to the earthly masses and write analbum with some heart, lest she be re-abducted and dissected. No longer obsessed with being cool and furthering her own reputationas purveyor of such, Frankie Rose came back to Brooklyn and wrote hergorgeous sophomore album, Interstellar.
While this may be a fanciful version of the truth, the end result is the same. Interstellar, out now on Slumberland Records, gives having your head in the clouds a whole new meaning. Frankie’s vocals sparkle and swirl like gauzy nebula gasses, the stuff of galaxies being born. The gritty guitars have been replacedby poppy riffs and spacious synths that reveal yearning and hope anda red-hot emotional core. Every second feels expansive, reminding usthat the big bang is still happening and that even as we rotate onthis rock we are hurtling through space. The lyrical content isn’tparticularly heavy and remainsrelatively carefree, but that’s not to say it suffers from any of that. Rather, it feels much more relatable thananything she’s written to date. There areinstances (particularly “Know Me” “Daylight” and “NightSwim”) that recall the most impassioned moments of new wave, thoughthat heartfelt artfulness permeates each new song. Tracks like“Gospel/Grace” are still informed by the jangle pop of Frankie’sformer work but here she has made everything bigger, warmer, moreurgent and airy. Closing track “The Fall” is like listening to adream – the kind you go back to sleep for so you can keep dreamingit. Its hushed vocals unspool over a simplistic but indelible guitarline, diffused synths and a droning cello reminiscent of Arther Russell’s “This Is How We Walk On The Moon”. Listening toInterstellar basically made me reevaluate every snap judgement I’dever made about Frankie or her tunes. There’s a line in title trackand album opener that sums up the whole endeavor perfectly -“weightless, free from predictable ways”. Amen, sister, amen.
I got tickets to attend the releaseparty for Interstellar at Knitting Factory, expecting somegrand announcement, an ushering in to a new age of Frankie Rose. She’s one of the most influential musicians in the Brooklyn indiescene, so perhaps we’d all be given a crystal and told to let ourhearts breathe, to embrace each other and stop worrying about ourhaircuts. Night Manager opened with an enthusiastic batch of precocious noise pop anthems. Somebands get on stage and act like it’s the most boring thing in theworld to be on stage, which is always annoying becauseeveryone at one point or another wants to be a rockstar. Night Manager can’t have had long to fantasize about such things –I’d say the average age of the five band members couldn’t have beenmuch over twenty – and that youthful exuberance was their strongestpoint. Their lead singer’s vibe was somewhere between Bethany Cosentino and Anne Margaret but I probably only make that connectionbecause I’ve been watching the third season of Mad Men while battlinga head cold.
I had high hopes for Dive, a(nother)Beach Fossils side project whose reverb-drenched singles are catchyand evocative of epiphanies had while staring at clouds. From thelooks of it, these guys really struggle to get dressed (evidenced by the rubber bands utilized to hold the guitarist’s pants in place) and speakingof haircuts – yikes. While their shoegazey tracks have a just-woke-up sort of haze, Dive’s performance was so boisterous it could have been a commercial for 5-hour energy shooters. The kineticset was incredibly fun to watch and included an unrecognizable take on a Nirvana song and a pornographic tee-shirt. Dive’s debut EP is scheduledfor release next month on Captured Tracks, and seeing them play the material in such a spirited manner has me psyched for it.
Frankie Rose took the stage just after11PM with four band members, opening with the title track from the newrecord. The stage was bathed in starry projections, but there wereno house lights at all on Frankie or the majority of the band, whichreduced everyone but the drummer to indistinct silhouettes. Thatmight have been cool for a song or two, but they played the entireset that way, and it was slightly off-putting. Much like when youspend a hot day at the zoo and all the animals are sleeping insidefake caves, the lack of anything to rest eyes on was disappointingand disconnecting. Perhaps the lighting guy was in the bathroom,thinking he’d have plenty of time to light the stage once the bandreally got going. But he never had a chance – the show was overpractically before it began. The crowd, myself included, was justsettling in to Frankie’s performance, and then it abruptly endedafter they’d played for just under half an hour.
I’ve seen some short sets, but this oneleft me stunned in terms of its brevity. You’d think that with twoalbums of material she could have fleshed it out for another fifteenminutes, even with stage banter or something. I didn’t evenrecognize the new songs; I assumed she’d not played many of them butwas later informed she’d played seven of the ten new tracks fromInterstellar. The thing is, they were interpreted for the stage insuch a way that they might have belonged on older albums, in the workshe’d done with bands prior to striking out solo, in the detached,too-cool-for-school manner of everything that had come before. Therewas no trouble taken to document the evolution and preserve theopenness that makes Interstellar such a great album; instead Iwas reminded of all the reasons I’d felt put off by Frankie in thepast. She returned to the stage apologetically to play one moretrack (video of the encore is below) and finally asked for the house lights to beturned up a bit, though it was done begrudgingly by the house.
My overall impression was that Frankieis somehow afraid to bring her newfound sincerity into the spotlight bothliterally and figuratively. She was hiding the entire time –playing in the dark, rushing through the set as if nervous orembarrassed, and masking the intimate vibe of the new record behindthe practiced ways of her rock-n-roll persona. Perhaps this was aneffort to make the material more stage-ready but for me it had a numbing effect. I can only hope that in time she’ll figure out howto parlay the stirring ardency that makes Interstellar so salient, will becomecomfortable with letting any pretense fall away and be truly presentin the new material. I can imagine that day – Frankie stands onstage in a halo of white, assuredly plucking each note from herguitar strings, backed only by atmospheric keys and somber drums,letting Interstellar truly explode – vulnerable, earnest and farbeyond the trappings of coolness.
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.
