The Unsaid

A majority of the people I know have either heard or owned Neutral Milk Hotel’s In An Aeroplane Over The Sea. It’s the quintessential indie album and guaranteed to be any true hipster’s record collection. Several years ago I bought it on vinyl knowing nothing save it’s relevance and influence on music. Not having it in my collection seemed a greater sin than spending the money for something I barely knew. Jeff Magnum is the brain behind Neutral Milk Hotel. His lyrical work is devastatingly honest and he sings with the raspy whine, the kind of voice you’d expect to come from an old Southern man singing on his porch. For a while, Jeff has been touring by himself, though it’s my understanding he mostly plays Neutral Milk Hotel. This past Monday I had a chance to see him (fittingly) at Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel in Providence, RI. 

Opening for Magnum was a group called The Magic Tapes, a 90’s band who occupied the same musical sphere as Magnum back in the day. My friend told me a story about how one time they played in her friend’s living room. It was bare bones but layered, involving the typical instruments like guitar, bass and drums, but also trumpet, a set of pipes that looked like they came from an organ, a banjo played with a violin bow and various keyboards and organs. At times someone would play a crash symbol on the ground with a stick attached to their shoe. They had a giant metronome on stage. There was a TV that “sang” a whole song. The leader of the gypsy troupe told a story about a man who’s sense of rhythm could change the mood of a room from sad to happy based on how he added to the natural percussion of life.

When Jeff finally arrived on stage the crowd erupted. From my seat in the balcony he looked like Forrest Gump, circa the run across America. A dark rimmed hat, long messy beard, unkempt hair. He wore a sweater which looked like every sweater he wears in his promotional pictures. He sat in a modest chair with a rack of five or six guitars to his right. There were two lights focused on him. They never moved or changed in intensity. That was the whole show. A man and his guitar. A man and his words. A man and his fans. I’ve never seen a show so minimal, so stripped to its barest form. The audience sang along with conviction and passion, every word clear as day. Jeff’s voice rang out through the decorative venue. I’ve only listened to In An Aeroplane Over The Sea once, but the tracks from that album were instantly recognizable, drawing much greater crowd participation every time. There were moments he would talk back to the audience or respond to a joke. This connection to the crowd is uncommon for him. My friend said this show was the most comfortable he’s ever seen him, being a man notorious for his nervousness and lack of comfort while on stage. Near the end of the show, for the first encore (and I believe the only encore), the lead from The Magic Tapes, Julian Koster, came out and they played a song together. He played a hand saw with a violin bow.

Here’s the setlist in case you are interested: http://www.setlist.fm/setlist/jeff-mangum/2013/lupos-heartbreak-hotel-providence-ri-13db2d5d.html

Jeff only performed for an hour and fifteen or so minutes which was more than enough. Despite never being attune to his music, there were three or four moments when tears started to fill my eyes. The combination of his distinct voice, the acoustic guitar and the crowd singing his words back to him was a beautiful sight to see and hear. Not bad for a Monday night.

NEXT UP: TIESTO @ University of New Hampshire, 2/22

Eric Prydz. Pryda. Cirez D. Moo. Many names, one genius. The melodic progressive house producer has been creating massive tunes since his early beginnings in Sweden. From the global sensation “Call On Me” to recent harmonic masterpieces “Everyday”, “Allein”, “2Night” and the Grammy-nominated remix of M83’s “Midnight City”, there is nary a misplaced note, a broken harmony, a tired arpeggio, every piece motivated by a driving passion to create music that rests high above the fold. You don’t just listen to a Pryda track, you’re engulfed by one, plunged into a world of beauty and creativity. His live shows are (literally) epic spectacles unlike any other, his sets are journeys into realms of euphoria you didn’t know existed inside you and every track he puts one of his five or seven names on has a level of polish and ingenuity that many producers would need lifetimes of experience to fathom themselves. I am a fan of Eric Prydz and I will put him on a pedestal higher than anyone else in the electronic dance music scene right now. It was Boston’s greatest honor and privilege to welcome him to one of our mediocre nightclubs last Saturday evening. In fact, I would have welcomed him to a basement with a ten-year-old Eon speaker and my mind would have still been split in half and soaked in musical oblivion.

First things first, here is the set: http://www.1001tracklists.com/24249 Just about two hours of playing time. Forcing him to cease DJing after curfew seems a cardinal sin but this article isn’t about the uptight rules at Prime Boston. Nor is it about the crowd which may or may not have been ideal, though their champagne showers added a high-rolling flavor to the night, elevating it beyond the typical nightclub Saturday I attend in this city. No, this isn’t about those people, shoved together on the small floor like it was the 1960s and The Beatles were on stage in America. No, this isn’t about the minimal production, the looping one minute animation on the TV in front of the booth. No, this isn’t about the sound system, which, though loud, won’t win any style points with audiophiles. No, this night was about the set, the music, the journey and it’s a shame some people forgot that once the house lights went up.

Eric opened with the unreleased track “Welcome To My House”, a deep one with a minimal synth loop over the top that flashes in and out like a beacon to another world, literally Prydz’s world, his house. Following that was another unreleased track and a personal favorite, “Rotonda” a literal rotary of strings and bongo-like percussion that culminates in a spiraling siren, ushering you into a Pryda dimension. A large handful of the tracks selected for this mix were unreleased, at least in the traditional manner of record labels. As to be expected, Prydz stuffed the mix full of exclusives that he’s featured on his EPIC radio show and that have been floating around the Internet as “Creamfields ID 01” or “Circus Helsinki ID” or, another personal favorite, “EPIC Radio ID 03”. The latter track possesses a funky attitude that increasingly embodies recent additions to his body of work. As he adjusted the various knobs on the CDJs, even he could barely resist a subtle dance, bopping back and forth to the beat, playing invisible keyboards in the air. A lot of the transitions were recognizable from his Essential Mix, a must listen for anyone with at least one ear. From “Rotonda” he went into Jeremy Olander’s “Rorschach”, “Power Drive” into “Clapham” and the Chordapella remix of “Reeperbahn” into “Border Control”. Seeing as I’ve heard that mix countless times since its premiere, being able to witness those transitions live, in all their grace and fluidity, was immense!

There’s something about the way Pryda mixes, the way he weaves tracks together in a tapestry of shimmering beats and chord progressions. For example, in that “Power Drive” transition, he left the slightest hint of the main melody in “Clapham” until the song hit a climax and the major “riffs” were swept away, reduced to its barest components. The beauty of his track selection and his sequencing is that each song becomes a part of the next, molded together, accentuating each other, calling out certain notes or samples that only rote repetition can inspire. You zone out, lost in that sea of sound. Vocal treatments barely bring your head above water, but when they do, it’s an alarming hand grabbing you by the collar and lifting you out of the dark depths. “One Day”, “Midnight City (Eric Prydz’s Very Private Remix)” and the “Let Me Feel” remix all aided the set with their simple verses, not an overpowering chorus calling for a group sing-a-long, but an organic lifeline, short yet memorable lines like “One day we’ll all be free” or the chorus sample from Adrian Lux’s “Teenage Crime”. You’re inspired to sing along because you’re inspired by what’s being said not because the DJ told you to. I don’t know how else to explain it. Less is more. 

The only strange moment was at the end. He began to play what sounded like an instrumental version of his “Everyday Interlude” when suddenly “Allein” began. The usual polish was lacking and I believe this was mostly due to running out of time. He shrugged to the audience as they chanted for more, mouthing apologetic words lost under the raucous cheers. “Allein” is one of my favorite tracks of all time, so I wasn’t complaining. That song…wow. Every time. If I wasn’t so dehydrated, I’d have broken down right there. It’s been close to my heart ever since the first moment I heard that suppressed synth piano. It brings back beautiful and ugly memories alike, all united under one simple phrase so full of conviction, heartache, success and failure: “Allein, allein”. Again, less is more.

Afterwards, one highlight that stuck with me was during “Border Control”. The song moves along at its usual BPM, probably between 126 and 128. When ever so slowly, it drops. 120. 115. 110. It may have gone all the way down to 90. The key remained the same, the pitch unwavering. And there he kept it, at a steady funeral march for about two minutes, maybe more, Lord it could have been so many more! He slowed the whole track down, perfectly, and then gently, gently, brought the BPM up again, arriving at the native tempo right in time for the giant assault of shuffling synths and blistering white noise in the drop. I’ve never seen a DJ execute that effect with such skill and have it live and breath in the set rather than act as a gimmick to get the crowd cheering. It was a motivated edit, something I’m very familiar with in my line of work. You don’t just make the cut or speed it up or slow it down because it will look cool, you do it to service the greater picture. Eric slowed the track down to service the greater picture his mix was painting and that’s how he seems to treat all his sets, letting each track act as a giant cross dissolve into the next mood, the next voice-less chorus, the next gallery of imagery that his music will inspire in your inferior brain. 

You don’t just see an Eric Prydz set, you experience it. I’ve experienced his set three times already and I show no chance of ever getting tired of it. Thank you, Eric. I hope I have the honor of seeing you again soon.

NEXT UP: JEFF MAGNUM @ Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel, 2/18

I won’t have much to say for this one. I’ve waited a while after the fact to write it mostly because I’m not sure which words will come out. That inability to place phrases to nights halts all sense of obligation. But for him, I’ll try to do it some justice.

Dubfire rolled into Boston the night before one of the biggest events of the year (which will be written about in the next entry). Since 1991, he was half of the Grammy-winning duo Deep Dish, a house outfit unmatched for their time. (The other half of that outfit was Sharam, who has continued to make quite a name for himself.) Leaving something so successful never seems sane, but Ali ‘Dubfire’ Shirazinia’s decision to leave Deep Dish in 2007 has lead to nothing but praise for his productions and sets alike. His realm is techno, encapsulated by “dark rhythms, superior audio, and technological brilliance” says Beatport. DJ Magazine has called his music “jet-black, polished chrome techno”. Check out a track or two of his, most notably “Grindhouse” or his “Plex” and “Spastik” rework and you can see how deserving he is of such language. When news of his show dropped, the overall Boston scene of tech and house-heads alike felt a quiver in their heart and spent the $20 faster than it took for their brains to comprehend the reality of his arrival.

Dubfire would be an initiation for me. Up until that point, I’d been almost exclusively bathed in “mainstream” house, electro and trance. The deepest of deep dance music had been reserved for late nights of editing or moments of reflection. While Sensation was a taste, there was enough popular, upbeat music to go around. Dubfire was going to be dark, it was going to be challenging, it was going to be hypnotic. I’m grateful to say it was all those things, but my mind has not expanded enough to understand the true brilliance of the set. I had a few drinks beforehand and gathered up a good enough buzz to feel comfortable in the typical black-neon of Bijou Boston. A new LED wall behind the DJ booth, illuminated the room somewhat, but I’m still amazed by how dark and bright that venue can be at the same time. Their sound system is also top notch; you are literally strangled with sound, grabbed in a giant bear hug from the first beat to the last.

Dubfire took to the stage at around midnight and never ceased to thrust us into the darkness of his set. He never spoke, never looked up, never even seemed to smile, embodying his music completely. The only track I could ID was an encore, novelty play of “Rocker” from years and years ago. The sounds were nonstop, noticeably heavier and more aggressive near the conclusion of the set. I can barely remember how those tracks felt, I was so mesmerized by the unchanging beat, the looping synth hits and whipping noise. Here or there, up or down, left or right, black or white, it all seemed reversed and yet the same and I’d close my eyes and fall backwards into nothingness. The screen behind him showed letters and numbers and tunnels and abstractions, blocks of deep red, flashing. There was no attention to when a track changed and if it did what it was IDed as. No part of me cared either way, too absorbed or too agitated or too distracted by my own mental divulgences when the music seemed to bore me. I left unsure whether I wanted to experience it all over again or lament the money lost on the ticket. Honestly, I had no idea. I still don’t.

It’s hard to listen to these sets at home in preparation. They rely so heavily on the vibe of the room, the echos of a kick drum being syncopated and reverbed under the plinks of some synth loop that sounds like it came out of the darker end of the 80s. You need to bounce off the person to your right and the person to your left who haven’t stopped marching since second one. You need to be periodically blinded by the abstract visuals of shapes and colors overlaid on top of more shapes and colors that you need some shade of LSD to understand. Nothing could have prepared me for what would happen at Bijou that night. Nothing shy of repeated visits and dedicated learnings of the system that is techno music. Deep house. Tech house. All of those things, challenging on a mind that has been over-saturated with songs rather than notions. If Dubfire comes around again, I will see him. For now, I’m left reveling in the fragments of a black memory surrounded by an unwavering beat.

NEXT UP: ERIC PRYDZ @ Prime Boston, 2/16

The first I heard of this up and coming producer may have been during a Pete Tong Essential Selection. I recognized his name on the Ultra and Coachella lineups and vaguely knew one song of his called “Global Concepts”. By chance, I checked the Bowery Boston’s website and saw he was playing.

The stage was set with a full drum-kit on the right and a collection of keyboards, mixers, a laptop, video game controllers and other instruments on the left (see the picture below for a more detailed look at the setup). The short American who hails from Los Angeles, California took to the stage, wearing a t-shirt that showcased the giant orange X from his recent album cover. The X was also painted on his headphones. On his left cheek was a face-painted black and orange squiggle. I don’t recall any pleasantries, just took to the stage and got to work.

Robert’s music could be considered electronic dance music or perhaps just really upbeat electronic music. The lines blur the minute that electro bass line kicks in. But what you end up seeing is an awesome one man showcase that pushes the boundary slightly in terms of live dance music. Robert would go from playing the keyboard, to adjusting or creating a MIDI loop on his mixer, to playing out vocal distortions mapped to a drum pad then play out the drop using an old video game joystick, all while singing on two separate microphones (one produced a clean voice, the other had reverb effects mapped to it). My friend is convinced some of it was fake, but I am giving him more credit than that. Oh, and remember when I mentioned the full drum kit? During two or three songs, he left the giant plethora of effects and sampling and rocked out on the drum kit. By watching him, you get the sense his first love was percussion. I think he had a drum stick in his hand through more than half the set. He played with passion and noticeably tries to work this live element into his set as much as possible, a refreshing change from electronic drum samples processed through a laptop. Live percussion always makes the song more organic.

I’m going to bullet some other takeaways from the show, little bits and pieces that I found interesting but can’t find a way to link to a cohesive paragraph.

• One of the percussion instruments on stage was a tin can filled with beans. It had a ton of orange duct tape on one end. Orange was a big theme with the show visually. All his instruments are adorned with the same tape.
• In addition to the game joystick, he also used what looked like a Genesis controller to play a drop or two. My favorite abstract reuse of a controller, though, was when he whipped out the Wii Remote to work with his vocals. He’d since into the microphone, then shake the controller to add a wobbling distortion, literally shaking the sound!
• He often played out rhythms on a snare drum outfitted next to the drum pad. I don’t think the snare was on too tight as it always had a very pitched, hollow sound.
• He played his biggest hit, “Global Concepts” second but managed to keep the crowd engaged the whole way through. Lots of jumping and dancing from tons of people in the audience, myself included.
• The BIGGEST surprise of the night and maybe the month, was when he played a cover of Filter’s “Take My Picture”! I was a huge Filter fan back in the day. (They are more of a guilty pleasure now.) It wasn’t until the vocals kicked in that it clicked, but the harmonic underbelly of the melody seemed familiar when the song began. Man did I freak out, cheering and dancing and singing along as it played out.

After the show, we got to talk to Robert briefly. I mentioned to him that I first heard his music through Pete Tong and how ecstatic I was to hear a Filter cover. “I heard someone freak out during that song, maybe it was you,” he said. He told us that he was playing Letterman the next night. It wasn’t until later that I realized how cool it was to see him perform in a little venue in Boston before playing to America on one of the biggest late night television shows running. 

Robert has popped up on a ton of “Artists To Watch” lists and, I assume, will make appearances at many of the major festivals this summer. Do yourself a favor and check him out. It’s a truly unique experience in this over-saturated DJ and EDM market. Here’s his soundcloud page so you can check out his music: https://soundcloud.com/robertdelong

NEXT UP: DUBFIRE @ Bijou Boston, 2/15

The group hails from Toronto, Canada. A threesome of bass, keys and drums, each has an educated background of jazz and a passion for hip-hop. A friend forwarded their EP to me. I checked it out and was intrigued  especially by the James Blake covers. Jazz hasn’t infiltrated my playlists in a long time but it was a welcome change, while not exactly being jazz at all. A hip-hop influence is definitely evident in their tracks, marrying the classical styles with more electronic sensibilities. Here’s a nice quote that explains their sound:

“[BBNG] deconstruct the four bar loops, understanding how to work crescendos by stretching out and reshaping the music into their own vision of silky smooth key progressions, pounding drums, and tasty bass lines.”

Coincidentally not long after, they had a gig at The Middle East Downstairs, their first show in Boston.

The opener was a DJ with a lot of promise and interesting tracks that seemed to walka straight line, never evolving his set, never exploring more interesting transitions. A journey was crafted, but it was mostly through the flatlands of Ohio, nothing but pasture on either side for miles.

BBNG came on stage, the crowd excitedly cheering on their arrival. It was a huge turnout and a passionate one, too. They got right into it and played a bunch of songs I don’t know the names of. The “Flashing Lights” cover made an appearance and the set closed to “Bastard / Lemonade”. It became evident early on that the drummer, Alexander Sowinski, was the leader of the trio, commanding the most attention with his powerfully fast and fluid work on the drums. I was hoping the bassist would have an upright in addition to an electric, but it never made an appearance. They played for about an hour and a half, maybe a little less. As I already mentioned, the audience gave their all for these kids. You’d think they been at it for a lot longer. By the end of the show, the whole floor erupted, jumping and dancing, crowd surfing, and stage diving while the drummer constantly egged them on. Louder, go crazy, counting off, that sort of thing. The guys next to us, who looked like DMB devotees, banged on the exposed air duct near the 21+ drinking area. They played a bunch of hip-hop covers that threw the crowd in a frenzy and neglected their James Blake ones, a disappointment to me.

I’m not entirely well-versed in knowing when a band like this succeeds or fails, whether they click. My observations are often on a fundamental level of rhythm. After the show concluded my friend and I discussed in greater depth how we felt about the show so I’m going to borrow his observations (or steal) and convey them here. While they are all very talented musicians it’s possible they a few more years to play together, to click into each, melt into each other’s sounds rather than just playing to the same metronome click. The bassist received the most criticism for his lack of harmony, never quite meshing with the drummer. It’s not a sound or timing issue, (though I honestly wasn’t paying too much attention to him throughout the show), but a feeling issue. As the set wore on, this issue lessened, perhaps needing a few songs to truly fall in sync with each other like a football team after one too many weeks off. Hopefully with time, they get better because there’s a lot of promise in those four young gentlemen, all of them younger than 21 years old. Check out their bandcamp page if you’d like to listen to and/or support their music: http://badbadnotgood.bandcamp.com/

NEXT UP: Robert DeLong @ T.T. The Bear’s, 2/12