the lucien blog

in which i review various albums, local concerts, and metro transit lines

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN BURNSVILLE | 12/9: Ugly Sweater Party (feat. Nightstones, Last Import, & Why Not)

Last Saturday was the Ugly Sweater Party! What a night. So many questionable sweaters. So many bands. Ten bands to be exact. Since I’m not about to write about ten bands, I just picked my three favorites out of the lot. If your favorite band/your band didn’t make the cut, don’t feel bad—narrowing it down to just three was really hard (honorable mentions to Niiice and Ithomiid). Alright. Let’s get to it.

Nightstones

Being a band with multiple lead vocalists is difficult. It can be hard enough for listeners to really “get to know” one vocalist, much less two or more. Some groups manage to pull it off (The Beatles, Wu-Tang Clan). Some don’t (Brockhampton, The Eagles). It’s all a matter of firmly establishing personality through lyricism and delivery, which is something that Nightstones were really good at throughout their set! They had two singers, and each one had something unique to offer. The first singer that we were introduced to, Freya, had a laid-back, deadpan vocal style. This is yet another tricky thing for a singer to do while still conveying a sense of personality, but she nailed it, hitting the balance between wistful and dead inside right on the money. The other singer, Antoine, also had a lot of character. He, being very passionate and direct, acted as a foil of Freya, which worked especially well when their parts intertwined in gorgeous harmony. This is a band that I’ll be keeping an eye on from here on out, and so should you.

Sweater game: On point. Antoine asserted that his “Less Talkin’ More Noggin” sweater was the best sweater of the entire party. He wasn’t wrong. It was hideous.

Bandcamp: https://nightstones.bandcamp.com/

Last Import

Before the show, I’d been excited to see Last Import for a long time. They didn’t disappoint. Everything was tight, tight, tight. I loved it when everyone stopped what they were doing and did a little synced-up rhythmic flourish (whenever the bassist stopped to roll up her sweater sleeves, you knew it was about to go down). Their sound is 2017 surf rock done right, mining its own special vein of pep and staunchly resisting the urge to devolve into self-indulgent Beach Boys worship. It manages to be light fare without sacrificing substance and staying power. Also—every song is a bop. Guaranteed.

Sweater game: Decent. The singer and bassist both wore sweaters. However, I wouldn’t have gone so far as to call either of them “ugly,” so I’m gonna have to deduct some points for that. A solid attempt.

Bandcamp: https://lastimport.bandcamp.com/

Why Not

Why Not is one of my favorite local bands. Critic’s bias: they’re old schoolmates of mine and I used to play with them. Honest to god though, they’re objectively fabulous. Since all three members add something special to the mix, I thought I’d do a little profile of each of them.

Josh is Why Not’s drummer. Josh’s strength lies in his ability to jam all the complexity of prog drumming into economical math rock. It’s complexity tempered with restraint, and I love it. He has a great feel for timing out section changes as well. It’s clear that the whole band is good at communication, but as cliche as it might be, he’s definitely the one holding it all together.

Isaac is Why Not’s guitarist. The first thing you’ll notice about Isaac’s guitar rig is his ungodly amount of effects pedals. However, each one serves a purpose (I think). Even when his playing is at its most distorted, all of his intentionality and precision still comes through strong. The contrast between those twisted tones and his sparkly, funky cleans does a lot to open up the band’s sonic palette as a whole. Another strong suit is the way his lines interlock with the bassist (Henry)’s. They sound like they were built for the sole purpose of fitting together cog for cog, and the result is brilliant.

As well as being the bassist, Henry is Why Not’s lead singer. Henry is great at establishing character through his vocals. Whether he’s talk-singing at a normal volume or screaming his heart out, it’s all very conversational, almost like a less morbid Steve Albini. Although he can be very precise when he wants to, Henry’s unhinged moments (sometimes bass he just hacks away at all of his open bass strings at the same time) are some of his greatest contributions.

Regardless of how you feel about the local music scene in MN, I’d highly recommend checking these guys out. They’re not like the other boys. Go see them live as soon as you get the chance (they play shows around the Twin Cities pretty regularly). However...

Sweater game: Abysmal. Why Not really took an L on this one. Nobody even tried. Henry had a kinda weird looking sweatshirt with a big hole in the front, but he took it off halfway through the performance, so it especially doesn’t count. Shame on you Why Not.

Bandcamp: https://but-why-not.bandcamp.com/

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 12/1: Mogwai

Post-rock is one of my favorite genres. It was birthed in the late 80s-early 90s by experimental rock bands such as Slint, Sigur Ros, and Godspeed! You Black Emperor. These artists and the cult following that they attracted were sick and tired of the expectation that rock music should be bound by ordinary songwriting structure. As a result, they developed an entirely new sub-genre, which generally stuck to the same instrumental palate as conventional rock, but favored texture and repetition over verses and choruses.  

Enter Mogwai. Mogwai is a Scottish post-rock band that came into prominence during the late 90s. Before I went to see them at First Avenue last Friday, I was already in love with Mogwai. Even though they weren’t as left-field as some of their contemporaries, I knew I could always rely on them for an emotional rollercoaster of a listening session (for an entry point into their discography, I’d recommend Young Team. Government Commissions: BBC Sessions is fire as well). They also served as a welcoming entry point into the genre for me—without them, I may never have discovered many of the other post-rock bands that I’m into. Despite all this, going into the show, I was unsure whether Mogwai would deliver live. I was skeptical about whether or not they’d be able to replicate the emotional intensity of their records onstage. Fortunately, my fears were put to rest as soon as the band marched onstage, the frontman spurted out a “Hi, we’re Mogwai from Glasgoe Skotlan!”, and the cacophony began.

Without a doubt, Mogwai’s greatest asset in a live setting was their mastery of dynamics. Used by everyone from Beethoven to the Pixies, loud-quiet-loud structuring is one of the oldest musical tricks in the book. However, dynamics in post-rock aren’t just a trivial method of augmentation—they’re the genre’s bread and butter. Post-rock bands such as Mogwai that don’t have a lot of added bells and whistles need to be especially on top of their dynamics game. Fortunately, Mogwai used the powers of dynamics to their fullest extent throughout their performance. This might seem obvious, but I think it’s important to remember that when you’re seeing a band live, there are only two volume settings: ears plugged and ears unplugged. In a way, the band gets to force the audience to listen to their music as loud or as quiet as they want. Live, Mogwai reached for the limits of both these extremes, to great effect. Every peak and valley of the musical landscape was vast and gorgeous beyond my wildest expectations (even though some of the peaks left my ears ringing).

In addition to the overarching quality of the music, the band member’s individual and combined energy was another great aspect of the show. For a bunch of guys in their forties, Mogwai exhibits the spunk of a much younger band. The lead guitarist’s hands turned into an unrecognizable blur whenever he launched into an outrageously fast tremolo passage. At climactic points in the music, the drummer never hesitated to swat at his kit as hard as humanly possible. Even the keyboardist/vocodorist seemed super into whatever he was doing back in his weird little corner of the stage.

It’s always a privilege to see a band that are both as serious and as passionate about their craft as Mogwai. These guys are an amazing act to see live, and I’m hoping they tour again soon. However, note to self: bring earplugs next time.

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 11/30: Remo Drive & Beach Bunny

Beach Bunny

The first thing I thought when I saw Beach Bunny walk up on stage was “oh, the singer is that person I saw outside before the show screaming expletives at a crosswalk sign for changing at the wrong time.” Despite this, Beach Bunny’s set was the antithesis of loud and angry. The lion’s share of their music consisted of lyrics about the uncertainty of relationships backed by dreamy, reverb-soaked Jazzmaster chord progressions. This isn’t usually the type of thing I seek out, but for some reason, I was able to connect with it on a much deeper level than I would’ve expected based on the genre. I have a theory that for every day, my brain craves a different kind of music. Some days I find exactly what it is I’m craving, and I have a great time. Some days I don’t, and it’s unbelievably frustrating. Last night I guess it was laid-back surf-rock that fit the bill. Never would’ve figured that out on my own. Thanks Beach Bunny!

High point of the set: “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” causing so much stagediving that the management had to come out and ask people to chill.

Remo Drive

Being Remo Drive is every up-and-coming midwestern emo band’s fantasy. In the short period that they’ve been active, they’ve amassed a huge local following, and, to some extent, a national one as well. Their debut full-length, Greatest Hits, has been showing up on a lot of people’s album of the year lists over the past month. Before this show, the only time I’d listened to Remo Drive was the time my friend showed me one of their songs on the bus via a singular Apple earbud. At the time, I responded to it the same way I respond to most things that I am asked to listen to through a singular Apple earbud- “Oh, yeah, pretty cool man.” Anyway, I get to go to free shows at the Cedar because I volunteer there, and Remo was the only band playing a show this winter that I was interested enough in to sacrifice some of my hard-earned volunteer hours to see.

By the time Remo Drive came onstage, the crowd’s energy level was through the roof. Despite the management’s pleas, the stagediving came back in full force, which was rude on the audience’s part (the Cedar doesn’t have the same financial/legal resources as a venue like First Avenue. If someone got kicked in the head and sued, they could be in huge trouble). Other than that, it was nice to see people having such a good time. Everyone around me seemed to have memorized every Remo Drive lyric ever written, screaming along to every word.

So how did I feel about the show? Honestly, I was left a bit disappointed. I was promised “mathy guitar” by the band’s bio, but what I actually ended up with was a little less Cap’n Jazz and a little more Weezer than I’d hoped for. I find the fact that the “alternative youth culture” of today embraces bands with as little grit as this to be baffling. I get that it’s not the 80s anymore, but is a song where the chorus is “art school/colored hair” really worth starting a mosh pit over? I’m sure I sound like a fifty-year-old, but things like this legitimately confuse the heck out of me. God only knows what I’ll sound like when I’m actually fifty. I hope I’m still into Lil Pump.

High point of the set: A tired dad yelling “I gotta work tomorrow, ya know!” at the band.  

Edited By Sarah Bel Kloetzke

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN ST PAUL | 11/18: St. Vincent

In the U.S military, every prospective Navy Seal is subjected to “Hell Week”. Hell Week can begin anywhere between 6 and 12 PM on the night before the third week of Navy Seal training. It is announced by high ranking officers bursting into the trainee’s sleeping quarters and rousting them with a round of machine gun fire (the guns are filled with blanks, but they sound just as loud as live ammo.) From that point onward, Hell Week consists of a series of brutal physical and mental challenges, which range from cold, wet combat simulations to only being allowed five hours of sleep over the entire five day period. Roughly 75% of trainees drop out of the Navy Seal program during Hell Week.

After learning about all of this (yes, I have an unfortunate habit of reading irrelevant Wikipedia articles at unholy hours of the night—don’t judge me) I thought it’d be fun to design my own little music critic Hell Week. I would attend five shows in four days, and write full-length reviews of all of them. “It’ll be fun,” I thought to myself. “I love going to shows, right?”

By the time I arrived at my final trial, St. Vincent at the Palace Theater, I was utterly defeated. Thanks to the previous four shows, my back, calves, ankles, and feet were on fire from the moment I got off the bus. From there, I navigated my way through a winter carnival full of unnecessarily loud children in order to get to the Palace itself. The show was sold out, so once I arrived I had to wait in line outside for twenty minutes next to a bunch of middle-aged MPR members fiercely debating the wattage of the marquee’s light bulbs. By the time I got inside, I was ready to go to bed, not attend a concert.

The show began with a screening of The Birthday Party, the St. Vincent (a.k.a Annie Clark) directed segment of the anthology horror film XX. The short film is about a mother hosting a birthday party for her daughter. Before the party, the mother finds out that her husband has overdosed on pills. She tries to hide the fact that he’s dead by dressing him in a panda costume. The whole thing is a metaphor for how society forces women to act like nothing is wrong when (surprise surprise!) something is very wrong. It’s a great concept, but the end product is marred by lack of subtlety, unconvincing acting, and über-basic shot-reverse-shot direction. Plus, there’s unnecessary jump scares every thirty seconds—something I’m guessing is meant to be ironic, since Clark has stated that she doesn’t enjoy horror movies because they “scare her too much to watch.” All in all, a well-intentioned but poorly executed film (if you’d enjoy hearing an in-depth take on The Birthday Party, click here). The whole light bulb wattage guessing incident had been one thing, but I think what really pushed my respect for St.Vincent’s fanbase over the edge was the moment they all started chuckling smugly at the “The Memory That Lucy Suppressed From Her Seventh Birthday…That Wasn’t Really Her Mom’s Fault” subtitle tactlessly pinned onto the end of the film. I would only grow to hate the people around me more and more as the evening went on.

Forty-five minutes after the conclusion of The Birthday Party, St. Vincent appeared onstage, sporting a neon pink leotard and a matching pair of thigh-high stiletto-heeled boots, and began the show. She performed an hour of cuts from her pre-MASSEDUCTION records in chronological order. No band was present- the entire show consisted solely of her guitar and vocals underpinned by a pre-recorded backing track.

What could’ve been a chance for a unique, intimate performance was reduced to St. Vincent ruthlessly mangling her own back catalog, armed with only her own skewed sense of artistic license. She always ensured that there was something standing between me and the song I knew and loved. A cheap, trebley string arrangement? Check. An obnoxious, muddy EDM bassline? Check. Lethargic, plodding tempos plaguing nearly every song? Check. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Why would St. Vincent want to bastardize her own material?

Suddenly, it hit me. She was pulling a late 90s U2! This was her PopMart tour! All the pieces were there. The gaudy costumery. The “satirical popstar” persona that she was projecting via forced, intentionally awkward stage banter. The intentionally flat delivery/kitschy, overcrowded arrangements. Now that I knew that this is how the show was going to go, I wasn’t looking forward to sitting through the rest of it, to say the least. I’d always thought of myself as concert-savvy enough to steer clear of tours like this. Oh well. I suppose nobody’s perfect.

After making a mockery out of most of my favorite St. Vincent songs, Clark granted us a brief intermission. On his way back from a beer run, a short, stubbly, fifty-something man became angry with me because I was blocking the way back to “his spot”. Now, any experienced concert-goer knows that if you find yourself in the position of beer run guy, you can A) just find another spot, or B) do your best to slither back into your old one. But this guy. This guy was so unbelievably entitled that it was beyond him to even consider doing either of those things. Instead, he decided to come up to me and scream the word “REALLY?” as loud as he could directly into my ear. In all my life, I don’t think I’d ever considered punching a random person in the face as seriously as I did in that moment. Sure I’d probably get kicked out by security, but at least I wouldn’t have to sit through another hour of St. Vincent. However, I knew from setlist.fm that on every stop of this tour, St. Vincent plays MASSEDUCTION in its entirety after intermission. Regardless of my ill-advised urge to give beer run guy a bloody nose, I couldn’t resist my morbid curiosity about how she’d approach her new material, considering she’d treated her old stuff with all the respect of Father John Misty performing the hits of Taylor Swift.

The way St. Vincent played her character during the second act was even more aggravating than the first. During this set, she held her fist in the air, civil rights-style, at the climactic point of nearly every song. Just like her stage banter, it was kind of clever at first. Yes, popstars and celebrities often appropriate the imagery of social justice movements. You made your point. Well done. However, as the set went on, the gesture gradually moved from amusing, to gauche, to distasteful. Just because you’re doing something disrespectful ironically doesn’t automatically nullify the impact of the gesture. Musically, Clark failed to break out of the cold, detached cage that she’d established for herself in the first act, putting little to no effort into key vocal moments like the bridge on “Los Ageless.” It’d be one thing if she only did this for MASSEDUCTION’s pop songs, but it pervaded throughout what were supposed to be the “emotional” numbers as well, making the set even more of a monotonous slog. I did appreciate that in this act, the instrumentals hadn’t been reduced to plastic surgery disasters, but regardless, I was still left unsatisfied.

Believe it or not, I actually like MASSEDUCTION. It’s St. Vincent’s weakest album by far, but it that doesn’t necessarily make it bad. The lyrics are a balanced mix of clever pop culture criticism and heartfelt emotional confession. The music is hit or miss, getting too poppy and repetitive at times for my taste, but the songs that do hit both the conceptual and music targets that she’s set for herself are some of the best of her career (“MASSEDUCTION”, “Los Ageless”, “Smoking Section”). It succeeds as an “indie artist pokes fun at pop music/pop culture” album, which is really something considering how many other artists have attempted to do the same thing and failed (e.g U2’s Pop, Arcade Fire’s Everything Now, Father John Misty’s entire miserable existence.) One of the reasons I think it works so well is that it mocks pop culture without completely turning St. Vincent into a soulless, ironic caricature. It’s a good satirical album precisely because it isn’t just a satirical album—it contrasts its satirical elements with the vulnerability of songs like “Happy Birthday Johnny” and “Smoking Section”, thereby keeping the listener in touch with the emotive, somewhat human St. Vincent that they know and love. Nonstop satire over the course of an entire album can easily become heavy-handed and repetitive, so it’s refreshing to hear an album that knows when to give the listener a break. Sadly, for some reason, St. Vincent failed to retain this sense of balance in a live setting.

After “Smoking Section” reached its conclusion, the curtain was drawn and the show was over. I was done. I had beaten Hell Week.  After waiting in line to exit the venue for ten minutes before I figured out that it was actually the line for coat check (apparently, everybody in the audience except me had paid $5 for coat check), I marched out into the freezing November night victorious.

Sometimes live music is a spiritual, life-affirming experience. Sometimes it’s garbage. Sometimes it’s a little of both. The most important thing Hell Week taught me was the fact that even if I go to a concert and hate it, I can still gain something of value from it. Over the few months that I’ve been writing live reviews, I’ve learned more about music than I ever could have imagined, so in the end, I have no regrets about any show I’ve gone to. Except for this one. I want my $40 back.

Edited by Sarah Bel Kloetzke

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN BURNSVILLE: 11/17 Real Friends, Life Lessons, Rally Cap, & Hunter Dumped Us Here

Last Friday night, I spent my final hour before Hunter Dumped Us Here, Rally Cap, Life Lessons, and Real Friends wandering around a monstrous aircraft-hanger-turned-antique-mall (one of the only other interesting places to visit in Burnsville other than the Garage). I’d found a decent copy of Prince’s out-of-print Chaos and Disorder at the bottom of a stack of CDs, but I didn’t bring any money with me, so I had to walk out without it. I was irked, to say the least. Even now as I’m writing this a week and a half later, I’m still kinda irked. I hope it’s still there.

Anyways, when I arrived at the Garage to work my shift at the street team table (we hand out candy to people who sign up for our email list and post videos of the show to the Garage’s Snapchat—sounds like a hard job, right?), I was still irked. I also went in not knowing any of the bands. Good recipe for some deep, thoughtful critical analysis right there! Nonetheless, Hunter Dumped Us Here managed to cheer me up a bit, even though I had just been forced to abandon my only true friend in the cold, barren hellscape that is Burnsville. If you shut Ben Folds and a Bluetooth speaker inside a suitcase, spent a full month playing Vans Warped Tour™ compilation albums through the speaker at maximum volume, released him, and told him that unless he wrote and recorded a full album for you on the spot you’d throw him back in the suitcase, you’d probably get an album that sounded a lot like Hunter Dumped Us Here. In a good way.

Next there was Rally Cap. Rally Cap was undoubtedly the star of the entire show. High energy, keen melodic sense, wacky dance moves—what more could you ask for? They also opened with “She’s My Cherry Pie”—hard to go wrong after that. However, the most important part of Rally Cap’s equation was their overwhelming charisma. I admired that the lead singer was just a singer, and didn’t play guitar or piano or anything like that while he sung. That’s underrated. Aspiring lead singers take note: when you’re not strapped down with an instrument, you can engage a lot more with the audience, and therefore be a lot more charismatic. Take me for example: I’m stuck behind a computer and convey no charisma through my writing whatsoever. I suppose that’s a bad example because it implies that I would actually be charismatic if you met me in person, but you get the idea.

So. Life Lessons. Really didn’t take much away from this set. I guess there was that one time they played a Slayer riff while fooling around between songs. That was cool. I’m glad they listen to Slayer. Slayer’s a good band. More people should listen to Slayer. That’s a life lesson. Then again, everyone in the crowd was having a great time, laughing and smiling and singing along and whatnot, so maybe I should just shut up. You don’t see that kind of thing happening at a Swans show.

Next band. Real Friends’ music didn’t really do anything for me either, but their set was entertaining as heck, so it was all good. This was one of those instances where the crowd was a hundred times more interesting to watch than the band. Real Friends is less of a “look down at your shoes while you half-heartedly mutter our angsty lyrics through your sobs” band (a lá American Football) and more of a “triumphantly pump your fist in the air to major chords while you scream along to our angsty lyrics” band. The surprising thing was, despite being all sunny and happy, they still managed to incite nonstop mosh pits and crowdsurfing throughout their set. When the lead singer first yelled “c’mon guys, let’s get a circle pit going” I started to laugh until lo and behold, the audience actually complied. The thing must’ve had a twenty-foot diameter, which, in relation to the size of the venue, was massive. There was also a lot of ill advised stagediving (RIP the “I need somebody to shove” sign), which reached its apex when a young woman climbed up on stage, crossed her arms over her chest and, standing up perfectly straight, decided to fall (not jump; fall) face-first into the crowd. I didn’t know whether to laugh or send for help. Fortunately, the crowd caught her and begrudgingly helped her get back on her feet. The less concussions the better, I suppose (official mission statement of The Garage right there).

If you take away anything from this review, it should be the fact that I don’t know anything about pop-punk, much less how to write about it. It’s not like it’s a new genre for me or anything—a lot of my friends are Warped Tour diehards who don’t hesitate to blast the stuff around me whenever we hang out. I guess it’s just that I’ve never listened to it from a critical angle before. I certainly don’t mind the genre. Once in awhile I’ll even find a band I dig, like Rally Cap. Going forward as a writer for Garage Music News, I think that I have an interesting musical journey cut out for me. I promise to keep an open mind as long as you guys promise not to dox me if I say something dumb. Deal? Deal.

Edited by Sarah Bel Kloetzke

Photography by Bethany Schreiner

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 11/16: Brother Ali & Immortal Technique

Immortal Technique

Immortal Technique is a lyrical rapper. Whenever you search up one of his songs on Youtube, the first thing that comes up is always a lyric video. It’s what he’s known for. So considering the fact that the most popular rap song of 2017 consists of a guy repeating the words “Gucci Gang” 50+ times, how exactly does Immortal Technique fit into today’s sphere of hip-hop? I went to First Avenue last Thursday to find out.

Introduced by one of his numerous hype guys as “the man behind the Third World”, Immortal Technique had no time for small talk at any point in his songs or the spaces between them. He put his all into the performance, pointedly addressing topics ranging from the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (“This ain’t about religion, Muslim, Jew or Christian/It’s about people making money off of that division”) to the drug trade in his native country of Peru (“I'm on the border of Bolivia, working for pennies/Treated like a slave, the coca fields have to be ready”). While I don’t agree with all of Tech’s views, particularly his conspiracy theories (yes, 9/11 gave America a convenient “just cause” to invade Afghanistan, and yes, the CIA did fund certain Afghani militant groups in the 80s that later morphed into what is now the Taliban, but that doesn’t mean that you can just jump to the conclusion that “Bush did 9/11”), I do think that he brings up some immensely important issues that aren’t being discussed anywhere else in modern rap, or in any other popular music genre for that matter.

I’d never listened to Immortal Technique before last night’s show. All that I knew about him was based on people making fun of him on the internet. Although a select few actually make valid points (this RationalWiki article points out the most glaring flaws in his rhetoric), most of the criticism tends to fall less on the content of his lyrics and more on the fact that they have any meaningful content whatsoever. See, unlike Tech, who I do admit fits the whole “Old Head” archetype a little too perfectly at times (with lines like “If your message ain’t s***, f*** the records you sold”), I’m fine with dumb rap that you can dance around to and blast out of your car. There’s nothing wrong with fun. But when fans of that style of rap attack people like Tech for making music that has an actual message, problems begin to arise. I realize that this generation is extremely averse to “fake-deep” messages being embedded into their media.  Sometimes this can be a good thing. Look how badly Jaden Smith’s debut album flopped this week. But when people shield themselves from pretentiousness so much that they start to block out anything with intellectual value whatsoever, much stands to be lost.

Like it or not, Immortal Technique is an essential part of the rap game. Speaking up on important social issues is a key aspect of hip-hop, and it’s beneficial to the genre as a whole to have someone at its forefront who can do that from not only from a national perspective, but an international perspective as well. I do wish he was treated with more respect by the horde of suburban American teenagers who have brought on the popularization of rap over the past 5-10 years, but I suppose having any sort of expectations tied to those little bastards is a mistake. Whatever. Immortal Technique certainly doesn’t care what they think of him. He knows he’s no “coffee shop revolutionary”—he’s as real as they come.

Highlights: “Peruvian Cocaine”, “The 3rd World”, “Freedom of Speech”

Brother Ali

Fun fact: last night was my first time going to two separate shows in one night! I had already bought a ticket to White Reaper’s 7th Street Entry show far in advance when Rhymesayers Entertainment contacted me about working on the street team campaign for Brother Ali’s show at First Avenue on the same night. I never say no to Rhymesayers, so I promoted the heck out of the Brother Ali show and earned myself a spot on the guest list as usual. I was double booked! However, the nice thing about First Ave and the Entry is that they’re right next to each other (there’s even a little door where you can cross between them), so I figured that I’d try and make both shows—why not?. In the end, I got to see Immortal Technique and White Reaper’s sets in their entirety, but unfortunately, White Reaper went on a little too long (you can read a review of that show here) and I was only able to catch the last six songs or so of Brother Ali’s set. I don’t feel like I have the right to give a show that I only saw ⅓ of a formal review, but that being said, here are a couple thoughts I managed to jot down-

1. Up until this show, one problem I’ve always had with Brother Ali’s live sets is his refusal to use curse words. Now don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with clean rap. I love the fact that I’m able to bump some Oddisee in the car without freaking out my parents. The problem with Ali is that he used to swear all the time, so now when he performs songs from any album pre-Mourning In America, they’re filled with awkward little holes where all the swears used to be. I respect and support his decision to go clean, but trying to listen to clean versions of explicit songs is really distracting to me. It’s like trying to have a conversation with an old friend who, in the time since you last saw them, decided to shave off their eyebrows. You aren’t thinking about the conversation. You’re thinking about how weird they look without any goddamn eyebrows. Anyway, the last 2 times I saw Ali, the only clean album that he had intentionally recorded that way was Mourning In America, which I didn’t particularly care for. Now that he’s touring behind All the Beauty in This Whole Life—one of my favorite albums of this year—he performs less radio-edit versions of his old stuff/Mourning In America stuff and more of his fresh, new, clean-by-nature All the Beauty in This Whole Life jams. This change did a lot to smooth out my overall experience.

2. Of the three times I’ve seen Brother Ali live, this was my favorite. I guess I was just in a great mood from having a wild night with my friends and from discovering my love of show-to-show hopping. Plus there was the thing I mentioned earlier about not getting distracted by cleaned up songs. But it was more than that—the energy in the room was just so positive. Whenever Ali told the crowd to “say love!”, I never hesitated to yell “LOVE” right back at him at the top of my lungs. Good vibes all around.

Highlights: “It Ain’t Easy”,“Take Me Home”, “Forest Whitiker”, “Us”

Edited by Sarah Bel Kloetzke

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 11/16: White Reaper

We all have that one friend that just “doesn’t really see the point” of live music. No matter how much you try to convince them, they can’t seem to get over the idea that they could “just be listening to the same music in the comfort of their own home.” Even in the golden age of concerts that we now live in (Better sound systems! More extensive tours! More venues to choose from than ever!) certain people refuse to stray from this close-minded viewpoint. Sometimes there are even music bloggers who stand by it (who hurt you, Channing Kennedy?) However, all of this is nothing compared to when a band, performing live, doesn’t seem to understand the point of their own performance. Sadly, White Reaper’s show at 7th Street Entry last Thursday epitomized the previous scenario.

White Reaper is essentially a bar band that got really, really big after the release of their sophomore album, 2017’s The World’s Best American Band. The Louisville group’s blend of gritty garage rock and bubblegum pop hooks melds together into a sound that manages to have its own voice while still being deeply indebted to its root influencers like Jay Reatard and Elvis Costello. Prior to the show, I’d spent the past couple of months growing quite fond of the new album, and I was excited to see how it would fare in a live setting.

In concert, White Reaper’s fatal flaw was their unwillingness to stray from their recorded output. Every note of every guitar solo was the exact same as on record. There were no vocal ad-libs or phrasing discrepancies whatsoever. The whole show was utterly predictable and uninspired. There were a few numbers that managed to break through the monotony, but only due to the quality of songwriting behind them—not the quality of the performance.

Now, it’s one thing for a band to have a weak spot, but it's another for them to be fully aware of it and have no intention of doing anything about it and/or try and cover it up with superficial gimmickry. At one point in the show, a man dressed in a stormtrooper costume appeared on stage armed with a Lego Millennium Falcon replica and started to shoot the band members with its missiles while they played. He then proceeded to stage-dive, Lego Millennium Falcon in hand, into the crowd of rabid fans. Despite the fact that all I could think of at the time was some poor First Avenue employee having to pick up thousands of Legos off the floor after the show, it was an undeniably entertaining moment. Lesser gimmicks of this nature included the rhythm guitarist being crowdsurfed over to the bar for an end-of-set shot and the keyboardist leaping a solid few feet in the air whenever there was the slightest hint of a climactic point in the music. The thing is, if White Reaper hadn’t employed these strategically placed shenanigans throughout the show, I think everyone in attendance would have been bored to death.

To some, this might not seem like a big deal. Sure, White Reaper played it straight—so what? However, to me, consciously choosing to “play it straight” shows a lack of basic understanding of the core purpose of live music. Sure, live music is a form of entertainment, and it usually has to be somewhat entertaining in order to be successful on a performative level, but in order to be successful on a creative level, it has to go even further than that: it has to connect with its audience in a fundamentally different way from how it would connect with them on record. I consider this to be essential. There are plenty of ways a performer can accomplish this: through engagement with the audience (open dialogue, storytelling), through added content (jamming, improvisation, medleys), or even just by having a strong, charismatic energy that the crowd can latch onto. White Reaper had none of these things. Instead of attending their show, I might as well have stayed home, thrown on one of their records, and ran around my house shooting my family with Lego Millennium Falcon missiles. I really like these guys, but sooner or later, they’re going to need to significantly expand the breadth of their artistic ambition in order to give their live performances any sort of significance. How they do that is up to them.

Highlights: “Eagle Beach”, “The Stack”, “Judy French”

Edited by Sarah Bel Kloetzke

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 11/15: Flying Lotus in 3D

Flying Lotus is, without a doubt, the most important electronic musician working today. I don’t say this often about artists who aren’t classical composers, but the man is a genius. Everything the Los Angeles producer touches is infused with his sticky, funky essence, from his brilliant run of solo records to his collaborations with other important artists of today such as Kendrick Lamar, MF DOOM, and Madlib.

In addition to his music, Flying Lotus has spent the past few years advancing his career as a filmmaker. His full-length debut, Kuso, has been one of the most controversial movies of the year. Many critics have bashed the film for being more of a multimedia collection of body horror than a linear narrative of any sort. This might sound like some people’s idea of hell, but I, the horror movie buff that I am, had been wanting to see it for a while, so when I heard that Flying Lotus was coming to First Avenue for a 3D show (complete with Flying Lotus™ 3D glasses!), I bought a ticket as soon as I could. Other than the fact that I love Flying Lotus’ music with all of my heart, I really wanted to see some of this movie that had everyone so freaked out—and in 3D no less!

The visual aspect of the show ended up being a lot more Blade Runner and a lot less Where the Dead Go to Die than I expected, but it was still a lot of fun. The 3D was utilized to its fullest extent, with the imagery having a remarkable amount of visual depth to it. The subject matter generally consisted of endless neon tunnels and glimmering, floating orbs of light, which sounds a lot less cool on paper than it actually was in real life. I suppose you could call this type of thing typical fare in terms of psychedelic visuals, but the whole affair was executed in such a striking manner that it didn’t even come within seventy-thousand light-years of “typical”. As far as I’m concerned, stuff like this doesn’t always need to have some sort of “deeper meaning” attached to it. As long as the experience manages to remove me from everyday life and transport me to someplace mysterious and extraordinary, it’s done its job. In a recent Pigeons and Planes interview, FlyLo himself said that the purpose of the show was to make people “feel like there’s still some magic in this world that they haven’t seen yet.” Anyway, everyone in the audience certainly seemed to enjoy it (every time an especially impressive visual came up on the screen, everybody started cheering like Flying Lotus had just played a crazy guitar solo or something. I think it’d be kinda funny if people did that in movie theaters.)

As far as the music went, Flying Lotus ended up straying far from the jazzy, cerebral IDM that I usually expect out of him. Early on in his set, he stepped out from behind his little slime pulpit/laptop stand to voice his admiration for the club’s sound system, grinning like a little kid who’d just been presented with a particularly elaborate Super Soaker with which to wreak havoc. Towards the end of his set, FlyLo seemed determined to push the limits of the sub-bass as far as the speakers would let him (even now, a full day after the show, my eardrums are still buzzing.) If Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music was intended for people that enjoyed the sound of “pure guitar”, this was music for lovers of pure bass. What he was doing didn’t conform to any particular genre; he was simply having fun with sound for the sake of sound. I suppose some would dismiss this type of performance as self-indulgent, but when the artist in question is a creative force as powerful as FlyLo, at a certain point, they can essentially do no wrong. I bet he could fold his laundry on stage for an hour and a half and it’d still be a beautiful artistic statement.

Seeing Flying Lotus live in 3D was truly a once in a lifetime experience.The whole show was a total assault on the senses, executed in the best way possible. As long as there are artists of his caliber around, there will still be magic left in the world.

Highlights: “Ready Err Not”, “Twin Peaks Theme (Remix)”, “Pickled!”

Edited by Sarah Bel Kloetzke

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN BURNSVILLE | 10/27: Scalise

Scalise is kind of an odd band for me to be reviewing. They’re group of high schoolers from Apple Valley, Minnesota. Usually, when I hear the phrase “local high school band”, some sort of flannel-clad, hipster-garbage, Hippocampus ripoff comes to mind, so I generally try and steer clear of that kind of thing. Regardless, when Scalise played the Garage last Friday, their music spoke for itself, and I just had to write about it.

Now, you can usually assume that shows like this are gonna be made up of one thing and one thing only: guitar/bass/drums/vox pop-punk/emo bands. Some of these bands can be quite fun (the band that closed out the night, Mister Wes, was an absolute blast), but I can never think of anything much to say about them beyond that. Anyway, when I was watching Scalise set up and saw that they had a trombone AND a saxophone in their band, I was hyped to hear something different than usual, and boy did they deliver.

Scalise’s set consisted of three cover songs and one original. The covers spanned a wide variety of material, from a bluesy, soulful rendition of Shovels & Rope’s “Evil” (complete with stunningly beautiful vocal harmonizations between the lead singer and the bassist) to the perennial obligatory Halloween show cover of “I Put A Spell On You” (much respect to a singer that can actually pull that song off. I’ve heard many a frontman’s voice crack like an eleven-year-old trying to do all that screaming). However, the real high point turned out to be “Goodbye To An Ugly Place”, the sole original number. For this song, the piano took the center stage, interpolating driving, rhythmic chords with catchy little arpeggiated melodic lines, while the rest of the band stuck to sprinkling on bits of ornamentation here and there. It all came together so seamlessly that if they hadn’t specified it was their song, I’d have assumed it was another cover of some classic band.

I find Scalise’s approach to R&B to be refreshing in the context of our local scene. Unlike other local bands like PHO and ZULUZULUU (both of whom I adore), Scalise doesn’t just use the genre as a jumping off point for improvisatory madness. They do more than just use the instrumental palette that comes with R&B; they embrace the song structure as well, in their originals and in their arrangements of other people’s songs. Everything they play has a definitive start/end point, and there’s always a linear, well-structured journey between the former and the latter.

In conclusion, Scalise is the rare instance of a tight, disciplined band (shout out to that rock-solid rhythm section!) that also manages to be playful and full of character. They’re successfully paying tribute to an older sound without becoming a soulless genre exercise. What's more, I just like em. Catch Scalise live as soon as you get the chance.

Highlights: “Evil” (Shovels & Rope cover), “Goodbye To An Ugly Place”

Final Verdict: great!

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 10/26: Death Grips

I used to hate Death Grips. I’ll own up to that right now. There was a time where I thought of them as music for pretentious children on the internet who wanted to seem like they knew something about “experimental music” (whatever that is). However, over the past few months, my opinion of them has changed a lot. Although I still think that a lot of people losing their minds over DG, critics and fans alike, are in serious need of a broader musical education (news flash: Death Grips didn’t invent industrial hip hop!), I’ve come to accept that their music has actually contributed a lot to hip-hop over the half-decade or so that they’ve been active. Like them or not, they’re culturally significant. Plus, they make fun music to jump around like an idiot to. The latter is the primary reason I chose to attend their show at the Skyway last Thursday.

I showed up at the venue with my little squad of high school kids and their adventurous dads at the exact time the event page said that doors would open. However, for some stupid reason, we still got stuck in a line wrapped halfway around the block for about an hour before we were finally admitted into the venue. Some would say that this contributed to the anticipatory excitement. All it really contributed to me was cold hands. Screw you Death Grips.

Once all of my friends had stocked up on merch to their heart’s content (get it before it sells out!), we headed into the main room. For those that haven’t been to the Skyway, it’s important to know that it’s actually a repurposed movie theater, and when they were converting it to a venue, they decided to keep the slanted floor. Although a lot of people like to complain about the logistical problems that this creates (“b-b-b-but I don’t think slanted mosh pits are such a good idea”), I actually love it. It serves the same purpose as it did back when the Skyway was a theater: it helps you see better. Even though I didn’t feel like braving the hordes of sweaty Pitchfork readers in order to get a closer spot, I could still see perfectly fine.

That being said, “seeing” was kind of a relative term at this show. For about 80% of the set, there was no stage lighting whatsoever except for the green lasers that each band member had attached to their fingertips. I’m not even going to try and explain how this looked, so I’ll just link you to a Youtube video of it. Suffice it to say that whoever’s in charge of Death Grips’ art design is an absolute genius, and there’s no way they’d be where they are today without him/her.  

So I guess I’ll just get to the part that people are gonna be mad about. Death Grips live was a vast improvement from Death Grips on record. Here are the ways in which they improved:

1. MC Ride’s vocals were a lot lower in the mix than usual. I’ve always thought of MC Ride as the weakest link in Death Grips. Despite the deep, tortured persona that DG fanboys like to project onto him, he really doesn’t have a lot going for him in terms of personality. He just yells edgy stuff. Now, I have no problem with singers just yelling edgy stuff, but when they’re the loudest thing in the entire mix, it can get really annoying, really fast.

2. Zach Hill’s drumming really spiced up the overall sound. The whole concert was pretty much just an hour-long drum solo for him, which must’ve taken a heck of a lot of stamina. Picture Keith Moon in an industrial band. Although it definitely got into some self-indulgent territory at times, it did a good job of making the band’s sound a bit more organic. This brings me to my next point of improvement...

3. Death Grips is a lot less boring live! If I’m being totally honest, the vast majority of their songs are severely underwritten on record. They’re good for about the first 2-3 minutes, but they don’t go anywhere after that. I hate to say this about industrial, because it implies that I don’t get how industrial works (but Lucien, it’s supposed to be repetitive!). Just have faith that yes, I do get how industrial works, and I know underwritten industrial when I see it. But because of Zach’s live drumming and the fact that they only played 2-3 minutes of each song before moving on to the next one, Death Grips managed to keep it fresh throughout their set.

I still don’t know how I feel about these guys. Despite all the praising I just did, there remains something about them that refuses to click with me. It’s a frustrating thing. They have so many of the components that make a good band! There’s nice pairing of genres going on, technically skilled and creative musicians, and a strong sense of consistent aesthetic. It just doesn’t have that magic spark. At least not for me it doesn’t. However, after seeing them live, I can still appreciate that there was a lot of effort put into their performance (that light show remains one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen) and that they’re a lot more creative than the vast majority of all these “experimental hip-hop” bands that have somehow attracted a huge following because music blogs won’t shut up about them. I give em my blessing, in kind of an ex-Mafia Italian grandfather kinda way. Mwah.

P.S: Yes, I’m aware that I missed Ministry’s set. I like Ministry. I like Ministry a lot more than Death Grips. However, by the time Death Grips’ set was over, it was 10:30 (2 hours past my bedtime!) and my friends were leaving with or without me, so I ditched. On the bright side, the next day I looked up some recent live videos of Ministry performing and turns out I didn’t miss much. Al has not aged well.

Highlights: “Giving Bad People Good Ideas” (one of the only songs in Death Grips’ catalog whose length is justifiable. I wish they’d just be a black metal band).

Final Verdict: good

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 10/21: Boris & ENDON

Last night I attended my second and last ever show at the Triple Rock Social Club. For those that don’t know, the Triple Rock is a primarily punk/metal music venue located on the West Bank in Minneapolis. They just announced that they’re closing down after about twenty years in operation, and a lot of people are very sad about it. I’m not going to act like I have a super meaningful connection to the place, but I certainly acknowledge the fact that they’re closing is going to be a huge loss for the Twin Cities music scene as a whole. A lot of punk/metal bands that come here are in the tricky position of having a substantial following, but a), not being big enough to fill the Skyway or the Cabooze, (the only other predominantly punk/metal venues in town) and b), not having a hipster enough fanbase to be booked by First Avenue or any of its affiliated venues. The Triple Rock is the perfect place for bands faced with this quandary to play, but in about a month, it’s not going to be around anymore.

Boris is by far the biggest act on the remainder of the Triple Rock’s concert calendar, so naturally, the show was packed. Not only did it sell out, but by the time Boris came onstage I’m pretty the main room was operating at least 50 people over capacity. The whole night was a fire marshall’s worst nightmare. Unfortunately, this ended up having a pretty significant impact on my overall enjoyment of the show, but I’ll elaborate on that later.

ENDON

ENDON’s grammatically erroneous, Google Translated bio states that they’re an “experimental acoustic collective known for their destructive performances involving self-mutilation and bleeding[???]”. Any opening bands reading this should be taking notes; this is the kind of bio that makes me show up early to catch your set. It’s really never a bad idea to do some research on opening bands. I’m certainly glad that I did, because ENDON turned out to be the highlight of my entire night.

For ENDON’s opening “song”, the lead singer, Taichi Nagura, let off a salvo of animalistic screams, unfettered by any sort of recognizable structure or instrumental accompaniment. I found this to be quite the charming introduction. Eventually, at a seemingly arbitrary point in time, Nagura decided that it was time to stop. He stepped down from his vantage point on top of the monitors, gave his band a quick glance, and the onslaught began.

“Noise Rock”, in the American sense of the term, doesn’t really have much to do with noise music itself. It's true that noise rock bands like Scratch Acid and Big Black indulge in abrasive, offputting songwriting that most self-proclaimed “hardcore” bands wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. However, most of the time they’re still holding onto some semblance of melody, structure, and lyricism. To do away with these things would be a musical risk more dangerous than anything else they could possibly attempt.

The cool thing about ENDON is that they’re perfectly comfortable with eschewing melody, structure, and lyricism as they please. They love their atonal riffs, their songs can change in an instant from moshpit-inducing death hymns to dreamy, shoegazey lullabies, and, perhaps most unusually, much of their music doesn’t even have proper lyrics. This isn’t in a “we’re Sigur Ros and we’re special snowflakes so we made up our own language” sense; the vocal lines that Nagura is singing are essentially just a collection of screams. He explained the reasoning behind this in a recent interview with Echoes and Dust:

“Through the Mirror [ENDON’s latest album] is the name of a stage play, and the song titles are names of each act. I identify as the main character – a fantasy of a human who does not talk/cannot talk. He is the noise. Thus, there’s no lyrics. I’ve spun fiction and entrusted the story to a chain of song titles. Since the work originates from my personality, it has an essence of metafictional intentionality.”

Now although I often give high praise to bands that like to deviate from the norm, I still believe that every deviation needs adequate reasoning behind it. You’ve got to know the rules before you can break them in order to have any sort of artistry behind whatever musical detour you’ve chosen to take. ENDON not only strays far further from the norm than most rock bands working today, but they also manage to do it with confidence and reason behind every stride. Although they’re obviously somewhat inaccessible to the average listener, bands like them deserve more attention and commendation for their bravery.

Final Verdict: great!

Boris

Sadly, seeing Boris live stands as my biggest musical disappointment of the year so far. They weren’t the worst band that I’ve seen all year (that award goes to Slowdive). However, last night was the experiential equivalent of my expectations being curbstomped by a group of Japanese experimental musicians who collectively decided that all they felt like playing that night was 2-3 notes per song.

I’m not usually a hater of drone music. In most cases, I’m willing to fight to the death when its merits are called into question. I fell in love with drone about a year ago when I bought Sunn O)))’s entire back catalog during a Black Friday sale on their label’s website. There are three main aspects of drone that I love: the sonic textures, the mesmerizing repetition, and, most of all, the atmosphere. When I listen to “Cursed Realms (of the Winterdemons)” off of Sunn O)))’s Black One, I not only hear the screams of the demons, but after a while, I even start to feel the cold. It's easy music to get sucked into, especially while lying in bed with your eyes closed late at night.

Along with Sunn O))) and Earth, Boris is one of my favorite drone bands out there. Ever since it came out, I’ve been keeping their new album, Dear, in heavy rotation. Dear is a little more sonically varied than some of Boris’ early drone work (which I haven’t heard much of, due to the fact that most of it is absent from Spotify and out of print), but I still think it’s a pretty fair assessment to label it as a drone album. Early on in the show, I was actually fine with the fact that two songs in, Boris seemed to be sticking to their drone stuff. But then came the third song. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. As the hour grew later, the bus schedules became less frequent, and my chances of getting home at a decent hour began to deteriorate at a rapid pace. The drunken idiots crowded around me just seemed to be getting sweatier and sweatier. And then there was Boris. What were they doing? Why were they boring me out of my mind?

Eventually, I realized that there was nothing wrong with the music. This was the same old eardrum-rattling drone music that I’d been listening to on my own time throughout the past year. So what exactly was holding back my enjoyment?

Brian Eno once stated that he wanted his music to be “as part of the ambience of the environment just as the colour of the light and the sound of the rain were parts of that ambience. I was trying to make a piece that could be listened to and yet could be ignored... perhaps in the spirit of Satie, who wanted to make music that could mingle with the sound of the knives and forks at dinner.” While drone is far from what most people would consider pleasant dinner music, I believe that it shares a common purpose with ambient in that it is meant to provide atmosphere, not be the main focus of the listener’s attention. You might be quite enamored of a room with some interesting wallpaper until you’re forced to stare at that wallpaper for an hour and a half after the room has been packed to the gills with sweaty drunks.

This leads to the other problem with drone in a live setting: the live setting itself. Although unpleasant viewing circumstances have the potential to screw up just about any show, most of the time the viewer can simply try and ignore what’s going on around them and focus their attention on the music. Herein lies the problem; drone/ambient performances can’t act as a diversion from the atmosphere, because instead of being a separate thing to focus on, they are effectively part of it. Anytime I listen to drone/ambient, much of the overall quality of the experience the is dictated by me, not the music. I’m the one choosing to listen to “Cursed Realms (of the Winterdemons)” while lying in bed late at night, instead of during a walk with my dog on a sunny day.

Live music is about one thing and one thing only: the listener’s overall experience. Boris played a perfectly good drone set last night, but I had a bad experience, so I’m going to give it a bad grade. Music is subjective. Sorry Boris.

Highlights: “Beyond”

Final Verdict: bad

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 10/20: Jonwayne & Danny Watts

Danny Watts

The best kind of storyteller is an honest one. It's true that you can make up some pretty crazy stories, either by exaggerating reality or by making up your own alternate one, but stuff like that never has quite the same amount of impact as the truth. I think that this rule especially applies to storytelling in rap music. Would I rather listen to yet another delusional teenager who thinks that he’s Tony Montana, or listen to somebody who's actually got something interesting to say about life and the struggles that come with it? While there’s certainly a time and a place for both, most of the time I prefer the latter. However, up until around the release of Kendrick Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d city, artists leaning towards a more introspective side of rap weren’t being given the time of day by the music industry (massive generalization, I know, but bear with me on this). Now, luckily for music fans like me, they’re showing up everywhere you look! Enter Danny Watts, a Houston rapper who just quit his job at Costco and signed to Authors Recording Co, a record label owned by none other than indie rap legend Jonwayne.

It was clear at the concert last night that all of the support Jonwayne has given Watts over the past few months has paid off in spades. Chances are, if you’re a Jonwayne fan, you know at least a little bit about Danny Watts. The way that Jonwayne has been promoting Black Boy Meets World, (Danny's latest release), over the past couple months, you'd think it was his own album (which, in part, it is; he did all the production on it). Even though Watts’ biggest song on Spotify only has about 25,000 hits, the audience gave him all the attention that he deserved, paying close attention to his every word.

Throughout his set, both in his songs and in the spaces between them, Danny Watts told a lot of honest, powerful stories. Again, that’s really the best way for a storyteller to go about their craft; using their stories to bring their audience closer to them instead of using them to paint an idealized picture of themselves. In the song “Things We Have To Do”, Watts talks about how he used to feel “invincible” as a kid, but had that confidence ripped away from him by a traumatic event that he wasn’t at all in control over. I feel like this type of thing happens to just about every cocky kid at some point in their life, but Watts’ “grounding experience” was quite a bit scarier than most peoples’; he was robbed at gunpoint. In the song, he doesn’t come out victorious against his adversary. He just stands there, shaking. and hands over all of his valuables, right down to the shoes on his feet.

In closing, Danny Watts is as real as real can be and I had a great time seeing him perform, fingerwagging and all (possibly the most underrated method of gesticulation within the rap community). I hope he comes back soon and keeps putting out more great albums!

Highlights: “Things We Have To Do”, “Young and Reckless”, “Black Boy Meets World”

Final Verdict: great!

Jonwayne

In 2014, Jonwayne’s life reached a turning point. In a confessional Facebook post to his fans, he outlined the various problems that he’d been facing at the time; struggles with his eating habits, anxiety, fear of flying, and alcoholism, all of which combined were making his lifestyle as a touring musician dangerously unsustainable. He canceled the rest of his tour and went into musical exile, choosing self-improvement over the advancement of his career.

Now, Jonwayne is back, with one of 2017’s best albums in tow. Rap Album Two, his latest release on Authors Recording Co, not only garnered him widespread critical acclaim and a slew of new fans, but also helped him face his inner demons. Rather than turning his back on music altogether, he decided to use it, in his words, “as a form of self-administered therapy”.

That was the preview I wrote for this show. Looking back, it kinda sucks. It's not that it's badly written or inaccurate or anything; it just didn’t do a good job of predicting what the show turned out to be like. Oh well. I’m a music critic, not a fortune teller.

You see, that introspective, therapy session Jonwayne that I was talking about only showed up for about 2 or 3 songs, tops. The rest of the time, we got braggadocios, trash-talking, battle rap Jonwayne. Having only checked out Rap Album Two prior to the show, I wasn’t that well acquainted with this new Jonwayne, but boy did I like him (quote of the night: “I don't rap over recordings of my own vocals cuz I'm… what's that called... good at my job”)

Now, while I stood in the back of the Entry last night listening to Jonwayne spout off pieces of savagery like “See I had it up to here, all these doubters in my ear/tryna tell me I don't have the whole world up on my spear”, it was all very well and good, but eventually it got me thinking: what was the point of all this? Why was I sitting here listening to another guy brag about himself and ridicule his nameless “doubters”? Why do people even feel the need to brag like this in the first place?

Well, for starters, people brag to feel good about themselves. That much is obvious. What’s more is this: when we hear other people brag, especially a musician that we love and relate to, it can give us a kind of secondhand ego boost. Some people would be quick to call that shallow, but they’re wrong. A robust ego is an extremely important part of mental health as a whole.

It's clear that Jonwayne is aware of how all of this works, how he can use it to his own personal advantage and how he can make meaningful art out of it. Despite all of his personal struggles over the years, he’s somehow still been able to keep his sense of self-love alive and kicking, which, personally, I find to be super inspirational. On the surface, It might seem like the braggadocios Jonwayne and the “deep” Jonwayne are entirely different people, but when it comes down to it, they’re both working towards that same goal of “self-administered therapy”; they’re just going about it in slightly different ways. I guess my preview wasn’t so far from the mark after all.

Highlights: “Ted Talk”, “Out of Sight”, “Wonka”

Final Verdict: great!

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 10/8: Touche Amore, Single Mothers & Gouge Away

Gouge Away Named after one of my favorite Pixies songs, Gouge Away is a hardcore band coming out of Fort Lauderdale, Florida. In my opinion, there has to be a very specific balance of energy and riffage at play for hardcore punk to truly “work”. I’d say that Gouge Away just about hits that mark dead on. They have really good variation throughout their songs, switching on a dime between breakneck speeds and slower, moodier passages without making the overall structure feel awkward or disjointed. They were so good that after the show, I went and listened to all of their stuff on Bandcamp. They’re actually donating all of their Bandcamp proceeds throughout the duration of this tour to a hurricane relief charity, so go buy yourself some quality punk music for a good cause! I personally recommend their new split, Swallow/Sweat. Highlights: “Bleed”, “Sweat” Final Verdict: great! Single Mothers Single Mothers are sort of a modern power pop band whose songs (especially the hooks) tend to stick in your head for quite a while; a bit like Turbonegro, but without all the questionable song titles. I had planned to use their set as an opportunity to go outside and get some air before the headliner, but I liked their first couple of songs so much that I decided to stay. The lead singer told some really bad jokes, but he had a great charisma about him, drawing the audience in however he could (sometimes literally! A couple of times, I saw him grabbing people in the front row by the head, George W. Bush style). They were definitely the least “hardcore” of all the bands that played, but at the same time, their set made for a nice change of pace. Highlights: “Baby”, “Christian Girls” Final Verdict: good! Touche Amore When it comes to live music, intimacy is often a huge factor in determining the impact that a show leaves on me (the absolute worst thing that a show can do is not be memorable). I might be willing to buy tickets to a show at a venue like 7th Street Entry (maximum capacity: 250 people) but have no desire to buy tickets to the same show if it were at, say, the Myth (maximum capacity: 3200 people). On the other hand, there might be certain shows that I’d be perfectly fine seeing at a larger venue like the Myth. It all depends on these three components: 1. SPECTACLE versus SUBTLETY. Is this a performance where I’m going to want to be watching the artistry of the performer, or the fireballs that are being shot twenty feet above their head? 2. MOOD. Is this music going to make me want to dance the night away, or curl up into fetal position and cry? 3. EMOTIONAL INVESTMENT. How much do I really care about this artist? Are they one of my all-time favorites, or someone that I’m just checking out on a whim? Let’s look at where Touche Amore ranks on this scale. They certainly aren’t a spectacle; any sort of guitar-based music is something that I, being a guitarist myself, am going to want to watch pretty closely. Mood could really go either way, considering that they’re an energetic punk band that also likes to explore some really soul-crushing content in their lyrics. Emotional investment is tricky, in that I only had a little bit before the show, but, as of now, I actually have quite a lot. When Touche Amore’s set began, I went straight for the pit. All those great openers had gotten me nice and riled up, and I was ready to get jostled around by a mass of sweaty punk fans (why this desire lives within me, your guess is as good as mine). I made it about two songs before I had enough and faded into the background so that I could take some notes without the risk of my phone getting taken out by some stagediver’s flailing extremities. My hiatus from the action didn’t last long. As soon as I heard the opening chords to “~”, my favorite Touche Amore song, I threw all my valuables in the zipper pocket of my pants and re-entered the pit. One of my favorite things about punk shows is the fact that when there’s an especially wild pit going, it’s not that hard to get really close to the band. It only took me a couple songs to work my way to the front row. Once I got there, I actually had to brace myself by put one foot up on the stage so that I wouldn’t get knocked down by the maelstrom of people milling about behind me. The lead singer of Touche Amore, Jeremy Bolm, has a very unconventional stage presence. He was a bit on the awkward side, only letting out tidbits of shy banter with the audience every once in a while. At the same time, he knew full well that he and his band were in total control of the audience. You could tell whenever a riff change was about to set off the mosh pit just by looking at the excitement in his eyes and the giddy little grin on his face. Even though he was singing about things like intense personal struggle and the death of his loved ones, you could tell that he was having the time of his life. So was everybody else in the room. I realized then and there that this wasn’t just music; it was a means of catharsis for everyone participating. Furthermore, intimacy was extremely necessary in order for this catharsis to occur. Would I have been nearly as emotionally impacted by the music if I hadn’t spent half the show a foot away from Jeremy with him screaming his lyrics into my face? I think not. Highlights: “Flowers and You”, “Condolences”, “Benediction”, “Palm Dreams”, “~”, “Is Survived By” Final Verdict: AMAZING

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 10/7: Denzel Curry

Watching an artist live up to their fullest potential is a wonderful experience. You get to be happy for them. You get to feel a little bit special for having believed in them all along. You get super excited (and a little bit scared) when you start to wonder how they’re gonna be able to top themselves in the next stage of their career. I was lucky enough to be able to feel all this and more at last night’s Denzel Curry show. From the moment he showed up on stage, totally unannounced, donning a ski mask, I knew that I was in for a treat.

After dancing around to a Lil Pump song for a couple minutes (which only emphasized the weird level of heterogeneity in the South Florida rap scene right now) Curry launched into “Zone 3”. Opening with a song from early in your career would be a gutsy move for almost any other up-and-coming artist, but Curry knows his fans. He knows that they know every word to that damn song. Plus it just naturally makes for a great opener, what with that sick build-up and all (I have a special love for songs that don’t even hit the chorus until around the two-minute mark). It was even better live than on record, which I think is a pretty fantastic thing for a hip-hop artist to be able to pull off (“Knotty Head” also exceeded expectations).

I always cringe a little when I hear music critics talking about trap music being the new punk. It’s such a played out and largely inaccurate comparison, especially considering the fact that most of these Lil ______ rappers out here fully embrace the capitalist fascist industrial death machine that punk has been attempting to dismantle for decades. However, Curry is just about the only (non-underground) rapper out there that I’d be comfortable categorizing as “punk rap”. Nowhere is this quality clearer than on 13, his excellent EP from earlier this year. The songs off of 13 dominated last night’s set, sparking an explosive exchange of energy between the crowd and the performer whenever they showed their grimy little faces (highlight of the night: Curry throwing a bottle of water at the crowd at the beginning of “Equalizer”, and instead of it spraying everywhere as I’m assuming he intended, 90% of the contents hitting me square in the face).

The one reservation I have about Curry and his associates is their continued endorsement of xxxtentacion’s music. During the aforementioned DJ set, multiple xxxtentacion songs were played, and they even shouted him out at one point. That has to stop. I get that they’re his friends and all, but at some point, they’re gonna have to accept the fact that he’s clearly not innocent. Domestic abusers/sex offenders should not be welcome within any music scene, rap or otherwise. That is all.

Back to the fun stuff. Last night, Denzel Curry gave me everything I wanted from him. That doesn’t happen to me very often. Granted, I have a lot of hyper-specific, extremely unfair expectations for the artists that I like. But to have an artist that’s progressing musically in the exact direction that I want them to? That’s more than luck; that's an absolutely extraordinary artist/fan connection at work. I’m very thankful to have that with him, and I hope that it continues to work out. Unless he suddenly decides to start exclusively releasing J Cole covers, I’m guessing that it will.

Highlights: “Zone 3”, “Hate Government”, “Flying Nimbus Freestyle”, “Knotty Head”, “Equalizer”

Final Verdict: AMAZING

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN MPLS | 9/24: Open Mike Eagle & Sammus

I don’t like songs that are about things. Starting your set with “This is a song about ________!” is probably one of the quickest ways to make me lose interest (other options include “Hang on a sec guys, just gotta tune my twelve string” and “Hi, I’m Mac DeMarco!”). I do suppose that almost every song is about something, but if an artist just flat out says it, where’s the fun in that? That being said, last night’s Open Mike Eagle/Sammus show did a great job of challenging my preferences about this sort of thing. Here’s how it all went down-

Sammus

I appreciate Sammus for her emotional honesty. She somehow manages to spill her guts all over her music without it seeming corny or over the top. This aspect of her artistry is displayed to marvelous effect on the song “1080p”, in which she opens up about feelings of insecurity and helplessness during college; as usual, in graphic detail. Sammus gave an especially powerful live performance of the song, screaming the entire second half acapella and without a microphone. Speaking of screaming, one of the most striking aspects of Sammus’ live show was the fact that there were some songs where she yelled nearly every lyric at full volume, to the point that by the end of the show, her voice was totally shot. The exoskeleton had been stripped away. All that was left was the heart, thumping like a defiant 808.

Here’s the other thing about Sammus; she does the exact thing that I was just talking about hating! (explaining what her songs are about before playing them). Within the songs, she definitely expands on the original concept, but never quite transcends it. That’s ok though! Sammus’ focused scope is actually one of my favorite things about her music. It’s quite refreshing to have a poetic, left field rapper that’s also able to keep it so real (“real” being a relative term, considering I’m talking about someone who once made an entire concept album about Metroid).

Highlights: “1080p”, “SPELL IT OUT”, “No Hands”

Final Verdict: great!

Open Mike Eagle

About a month ago, I was feeling prepared for this Open Mike Eagle show. Sammus’ new album was in heavy rotation. I knew his back catalog by heart, especially favoring classic albums like Dark Comedy and Unapologetic Art Rap. Then Brick Body Complex had to come along and complicate everything.

Released less than ten days before the show, Brick Body Complex is, by far, Open Mike Eagle’s rawest, most personal record to date. Unlike in his past work, there aren’t that many goofy one-liners or weird references to distract from the main point being made in each song. All that’s left are vivid stories of heartache, anger, and disillusionment with the powers that be, plus a pinch of wistful nostalgia to help even things out.

This change in subject matter/delivery really made itself apparent in a live setting. While Open Mike Eagle records, even ones like Brick Body Complex, can often be pretty lowkey affairs, his live show is an entirely different animal. Although Open Mike Eagle had started out standing in place for the first three songs he played, by the time “My Auntie’s Building” (a highlight off of Brick Body Complex) came around, he’d stripped down to a tank top and begun to pace frantically around the stage. It felt as if every word of the song was a red-hot ball of resentment that was excruciatingly painful for him to cough up and spit out.

“My Auntie’s Building” is a song about the destruction of Open Mike Eagle’s Auntie’s project building, and the injustices behind it. That’s it. There’s no complex allegory at work here.  It definitely has some larger social implications, but for the most part, it is what it is. He’s just telling us a single, self-contained story. And the story in question is so captivating that I’m perfectly fine with that. So there.

Highlights: “(How Could Anybody) Feel at Home”, “My Auntie’s Building”, “Very Much Money (Ice King Dream)”, “Doug Stamper”, “Dark Comedy Late Show”

Final Verdict: great!

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN ST PAUL | 9/23: Nooky Jones

I’ll never forget the day Prince died. I was in school. TMZ had broken the news in the morning, but nobody really believed the story was true until a second report came out through the BBC early that afternoon. I couldn’t believe it. I’d spent the past year and a half of my life falling in love with Prince. I’d hunted down copies of all his albums, even the out of print ones. I had learned the guitar chords to dozens of his songs. A couple of times, I’d even managed to talk my friends into driving me (a license-less sixteen-year-old), to Paisley Park and back at odd hours of the night so that I could see him live. I spent lunch that day crying in the bathroom. I knew I would never spend another morning desperately checking Twitter to find out if a secret show was about to happen that night. I would never spend another afternoon waiting in the line of cars that forms in the cul-de-sac next to Paisley Park before a show, chatting with the other fans about what we thought would go down that night. I would never spend another evening sitting in some ridiculously shaped piece of Paisley Park furniture, wondering if Prince would decide to show up. All of that was gone. The night of Prince’s death, thousands of people, including myself, sought refuge at First Avenue. The whole block was gated off, and, instead of mourning in the conventional sense, we decided to have a party in Prince’s honor. A number of local musicians performed Prince covers, including Cameron Kinghorn, the lead singer of Nooky Jones. His cover of “How Come You Don’t Call Me Anymore?” was far and away the best performance of the night. He wasn’t just playing a cover song. He was keeping Prince’s spirit alive. I knew right then that as long as there were people like this in our music scene, the magic wouldn’t be lost. Now, I want to make it very clear; I’m not pigeonholing Kinghorn as some sort of cheap reincarnation of Prince- he has a lot more going for him than that. All I’m saying is that he represents a new generation of young, talented new players in the Twin Cities R&B scene. If you ever get the opportunity to see him and his new band, Nooky Jones, perform live, you should take it. I was lucky enough to attend their show at the Fitzgerald Theater last night, and it was an absolute blast. During the show, it quickly became apparent just how connected Kinghorn was with his band. He didn’t just know the cues; he lived and breathed every sudden stop and start, his hands jerking around like Bernstein conducting a Tchaikovsky piece. However, the fact that the band was so tightly rehearsed only made the improvisatory passages of the music all the more rewarding. The brass section of the band turned out to be particularly adept at this side of things. Conversely, the rhythm section did a great job staying in their lane, managing to add a lot of unique texture to the band’s sound as a whole without being disruptive. I think Nooky Jones has a lot of potential. They already seem to be 89.3’s new sweetheart, but in the long run, I think they can do a lot better than that. What they have that many other local bands of comparable skill don’t is a strong frontman figure that audiences can latch onto. This combined with their aforementioned instrumental prowess, in my opinion, could lead them to success on a national level. It’s true that their throwback sound is a far cry from any sort of mainstream R&B, but I have faith that good music can overcome all boundaries of that sort if a band is willing to keep at it for a while. Hopefully, Kinghorn won’t have to wait as long for his break as the late Sonny Knight. However, something tells me that it won’t be long before the public picks up on the fact that there’s a killer new R&B act in town. Highlights: "People Get Ready" (Curtis Mayfield cover), "Sweet Wine" Final Verdict: great!

[thelucienblog]

LIVE IN ST PAUL | 9/20: Gorillaz & Danny Brown

So last night I did something I wasn’t expecting to do 24 hours ago: I went and saw the Gorillaz show at the Roy! I don’t even listen to Gorillaz, although I’d already been interested in the show because of the openers, Vince Staples and Danny Brown, both of whom I love to death. That said, I still wasn’t about to shell out $70 to see them play short little opening sets. But then I got called last minute to do some work for the Gorillaz’ management (checking in VIPs for 5 hours! yay!) and got a free ticket out of it.

Danny Brown

I was thinking a lot about this on the bus ride to the venue, and I’ve reached a conclusion: Danny Brown is my favorite rapper. I definitely listen to him more than any other rapper. Each of his 3 main albums is a goddamn masterpiece, and his mixtapes are pretty good too. He’s also one of my favorite people to see live.

This performance didn’t quite top the last time I saw him, (Soundset 2016), but it had plenty of cool stuff going for it. When I last saw him, Danny hadn’t yet released Atrocity Exhibition, so it was a lot of fun to hear some of those songs live for the first time. “When It Rain” was especially impressive (anyone who can manage to rap “glocks all in yo face, dog/no baseball, better run home” at full speed without slipping up has my eternal respect. Try it; it’s a lot harder than you’d think).

I will admit that Danny Brown doesn’t have much of a stage show beyond whatever outfit he chooses to wear on a given day (I was a big fan of the weird Hypebeast enthusiast/Nascar driver vibe he had going on at this show). However, he’s such a good performer that it doesn’t even matter. A lot of the time those kind of stage shows are just there to hide the fact that the rapper in question isn’t talented enough to actually rap their songs live, something Danny has no trouble with (*cough*  *xxxtentacion* *cough*. Excuse me!).

Highlights: “Kool Aid”, “When It Rain”, “Attak”

Final Verdict: great!

Gorillaz

So like I said before, I don’t listen to Gorillaz. I think the only time I’ve made a conscious effort to consume their music was when I put on Plastic Beach a few years ago, thought it was pretty good, and never touched it again. Oh, and that time I listened to listened to two songs off Humanz and thought “oh, so this is what Reddit thinks is cool” before turning it off. That’s about it.

Considering all that, I was actually pretty surprised at how much I enjoyed Gorillaz live. Damon Albarn (who, as my boss from the Gorillaz’ road crew commented, “looks like a dad”), had a delightful stage presence, acting as a highly skilled performer in his own right and as a gracious host to the gigantic circus troupe of guest performers that graced the stage throughout the night. Vince Staples and Danny Brown’s guest spots were highlights of the night, with both artists eager to prove themselves in front of a larger, less hip-hop oriented crowd than they’re usually playing in front of.

The visuals definitely added a lot to the overall experience. For about ¾ of the set, a screen behind the stage showed hybrid animated/live action music videos that synced up perfectly to the songs being performed. The videos were so entertaining that throughout much of the set it was hard to choose what to focus on; the band or the screen behind them. The videos varied greatly in content, but they all reveled in escapism, usually in the face of some sort of authoritarian, gas-masked menace.

There’s a certain commitment to their art a live band needs to have in order to really captivate my attention. Sometimes that commitment shows itself when the artist refuses to compromise their art in front of an audience with closed-minded expectations of what their music should be. On the flipside of things, sometimes an artist is so in touch with what will make the audience happy that they’re able to align their performance with that expectation (and figure out ways to exceed it) perfectly. Some people would dismiss this type of artist as a “crowd pleaser”, but I believe that there are bands, like Gorillaz, who are able to take the concept to a much higher level than that. I’m not saying that this is how every artist should be doing their shows, but the ones who do choose to it, and do it well, should have nothing to be ashamed of.

Highlights: “Clint Eastwood”, “Ascension”, “Submission”

Final Verdict: good!