Archives for the month of: January, 2011

Aussie Rules!

January 26, 2011 //

One of my dear friends questioned the legitimacy of the Australian music scene yesterday. Not only was she from New Zealand (Australia’s retarded twin), but she subsequently regretted to inform me that she had not taken any time to study the rich history of Australia’s music.

Whilst many ‘outsiders’ may presume we go to school on kangaroos, brush our teeth with Fosters and worship our Royal Highness Steve Irwin, there is actually some pretty good music floating around our fine land.

I feel that our musical prowess lies in our isolation from the wide, wild world. This can often be a hindrance, but also inspires an intense camaraderie between Australian musicians that extends beyond simple compatriotism.

Sadly due to our enforced isolation many artists find it difficult to be heard across the seas. Although, with websites like Campusounds and the wonderful world wide web, Australian artists are playing an increasing role in the world marketplace.

So just incase you needed a prod in the right direction, or thought our musical landscape involved armies of scantily clad Kylie Minogues, then here are ten albums that I would highly recommend.

1. Lior – Corner of An Endless Road

2. John Butler Trio – Sunrise Over Sea

3. Ray Mann Three – Self-Titled

4. Gotye – Like Drawing Blood

5. Bertie Blackman – Secrets and Lies

6. Matt Corby – Song For…

7. Cat Empire – Self-Titled

8. Hilltop Hoods – The Calling

9. Vince Jones – Live at the Basement

10. John Farnham – Jack

I hope these suggestions have opened a few doors for your wonderful ears, and have given a snapshot of the Australian music scene.

In the meantime, while you are still listening to these tracks, I am going to throw a shrimp on the barbie, and ride my kangaroo down to the shops for a six-pack.

Happy Australia Day!

Liam

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Rock Exists

January 25, 2011 //

“Sometimes I don’t want my academic advisor to know how much time I spend on my music” says Arthur, bassist for Zvoov. He, along with Sal and Eric, gathered about a year ago to form the three-piece band. I met with two thirds of the group to talk about their music and their upcoming EP, Everbrown, to be self-released this month. Arthur and Eric, both Computer Science PhD students at NYU, met through a roommate arrangement. The boys from Zvoov started rehearsing in what they call “The Tin Can,” an old storage room that they had access to through a friend (during business hours).

One of the most interesting things about this group is the members’ varied musical backgrounds: Arthur is not ‘classically’ trained, but rather picked up the bass on his own and started learning by listening to records; Eric (guitar), played the cello for twelve years; and Sal (drums) was trained in Jazz. To describe the music that comes out of this combination in a few words: instrumental, compositionally interesting, yet emotionally engaging. Their influences range from Om, Don Caballero to Mars Volta; focusing on “how music is perceived instead of just ‘rock exists,’” as Eric pointed out. I have to admit I was a little skeptic when my friend took me to see them play in Brooklyn, but after seeing them perform only two songs I realized that Zvoov can pull off distortion well.

Their EP is available for download on Bandcamp. I’d have to say that my favorite part if it is a moment halfway through the track “Not Necesselery” (try saying that thrice, fool!) that’s packed with energy. The song’s climax is just perfect to prep whoever is listening for the last song on the EP, “Everbrown” (which is almost 14 minutes long).

If you like what you hear, come out on February 22^nd for their CD Release party at Cake Shop!

bloud,

Julia

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Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans

January 21, 2011 //

Just after Christmas, I took my first trip to New Orleans. Unlike most college students with a brand new 21-year-old ID, I did not go to the Big Easy to hit Bourbon street and extend my New Year’s Eve festivities. I was there for the music. I was there to experience a culture that countless people have told me is as refreshing as it is exciting—and boy were they right. The music and the culture feed off each other, and for musicians and non-musicians alike, New Orleans offers an undeniably hospitable atmosphere.

I’m a huge fan of the HBO show Tremé, which only further excited me to visit New Orleans. A place where music is a truly integral part of the culture is enticing, and the television series does a brilliant job of portraying this fact. New Orleans’ favorite son, Kermit Ruffins, makes frequent cameos on the show. When I was asking around about the must see shows while I was in the Crescent City, only one name kept coming up again and again—Kermit Ruffins. I went to see more nationally recognized names like Donald Harrison and Delfeayo Marsalis as well—each of whom put on quite a show—but I was most excited for the Kermit Ruffins show thanks to the rave reviews I received about him.

I set out on a quiet Tuesday evening for Bullet’s bar in the heart of St. Bernard parish, well outside the protective tourist bubble of New Orleans’ French Quarter. I can admit my trepidation for stepping into a local bar where I stuck out as an obvious outsider. Yet everyone in the bar greeted me with kind eyes and warm smiles. The apprehension was short lived and quickly replaced with a growing excitement for the show ahead.

I had seen Kermit’s giant barbecue trailer as I walked in (he offers free barbecue to the patrons at all his shows), but he was nowhere to be seen. As I scanned the bar looking for a glimpse of him, he slowly rose from the anachronism of a massage chair in the back of the bar. He looked as though he had just woken up, yet he carried with him the biggest smile I’ve ever seen—a smile that would remain on him for the remainder of the night. Then he went around the bar approaching each individual in the bar, not just to say hello but to converse with them. Not in twenty-one years of being around music have I ever seen such a brilliant move. He appeared like a political candidate trying to create relationships with his constituency before a big election. But there was no ulterior motive for Kermit, he was simply being friendly.

I haven’t spent much time in the South in my life, but that is surely what they are referring to when people use the term “Southern hospitality.” In that instant, I realized that it was not Kermit’s fine musicianship that fills an off the beaten path, divey little bar every Tuesday night. It was the friendly, welcoming light that shines through this miniature man that brings people back time and time again. And by the time the music got started, it was apparent that he approaches music with the same genuineness that he approaches life. This is the New Orleans way, and Kermit Ruffins is the master of it. A missed partial on his trumpet is not a sign of failure, but a reason to release a guttural yelp that spurs on the rest of the band. His imperfect intonation when he sings is perfect because it has a personality and an identity—just like the father of New Orleans music, Louis Armstrong. We as college musicians far too frequently forget the importance of personality. We strive for perfection in our technique and harmonic approaches. We beg for criticism on how much pressure to put on the reed or how to properly curl our fingers. But the college experience often fails to remember that music is a product of the soul. It is a common ground for humanity and one that is not perpetuated through flawless fingerings but through genuine expression. Music should make you dance. Music should tell a story.

The highlight of the night was when Kermit asked people in the crowd to come up and express what New Orleans meant to them—an homage to the year gone by (this was his last gig of 2010 at Bullet’s). Though people seemed sheepish at first, Kermit didn’t give up on the idea. With a little determination and a fair amount prodding, people were soon coming up to the microphone in droves eager to express their love for “The City that Care Forgot” (a nickname which took on entirely new meaning after Katrina). Some people dug deep and talked the spirit of New Orleanians. Others simply toasted “red beans and rice” or “jambalaya.” But in all of the answers addressing what “New Orleans is,” there was a palpable unity amongst the people in this bar, a togetherness which I have never before experienced with a group of strangers.

It’s a beautiful thing to see how music can bring people together. But it’s equally beautiful to see how amazing music can be when people share a common vision and cultural ethic. New Orleans is certainly like no other place in the United States, and needs to be cherished for its unique culture. I only had the chance to spend four days in the city, but I can honestly say I already know what it means to miss New Orleans. And I most surely will be going back. But I am fortunate that I can take a part of New Orleans with me. That spirit which I was blessed to experience will be reinvigorated in my own music. I won’t stop striving for perfect technique, but when it comes time to share in the music, I will remember that the goal, both with my bandmates and with the audience, is to collectively experience something that will leave a lasting impact long after the notes are gone.

- Daniel

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Aussie Rules!

Rock Exists

Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans

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