Category Archives: music

A Cheap Rehash

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So thumbing through the new issue of Urb, I was stoked to see my editor, Joshua Glazer, mention a reading at Family Bookstore that went down in March. It reminded me of an interview I did for a now defunct Website five years ago. Not my best work, but I’m always a fan of what Ian says. For the sake of posterity, I’m reposting the original interview I did. Enjoy… or not.

A Constitutional Crime with Ian Svenonius

By Antero Garcia

Ian Svenonius, lead singer of Weird War, is perched on a folding chair in the hidden innards of the Henry Fonda Theater. As sedate as he appears, in an hour he will be belting out piercing gospel-tinged screams and falling to his knees a la James Brown during his band’s performance. Ian has an iconoclastic voice that he uses as a tool for preaching revolutionary politics in such bands as Nation of Ulysses, the Make-Up, and now Weird War (formerly the Scene Creamers).

With their recently released sophomore album, If You Can’t Beat ‘Em Bite ‘Em on Drag City, Weird War have confronted listeners with near-childish sounding melodies. The chanting lyrics, fuzzed-out guitars and ploddingly simple drum and bass rhythms also contain some of the most politically confrontational songs released today. Though his lyrics are deceivingly simplistic, they are rife with political meaning and Svenonius is quick to point this out in his signature highbrow vocabulary.

Antero Garcia: How’s the tour been treating you?

Ian Svenonius: It’s the second to last show for us before heading back to d.c., going well.

AG: What are those buttons you’re wearing?

IS: This is a Walkmen button and this is the republic of Vietnam

AG: Kind of along those lines, you were pretty sincere about the Mao quotes used in the album?

IS: It’s not really Mao. It’s an idea that has been appropriated by him. It’s really revolutionary politics, meaning that despite insurmountable funds, you have to focus – even if you’re feeling like a struggle is futile. If you focus on destroying the enemy like eating a meal: one bite at a time, then it can be achieved -the piece meal solution. Mao equates killing the enemy with eating a meal. You can never conceive of eating a meal in one bite. It’s a support of revolutionary struggle.

AG: Would you consider Weird War “punk?”

IS: I don’t want to use the word punk because I feel it’s so overused. I feel like people don’t let anything die. If you were to look at these things, it sounds like ska and punk and it all coexists. We need new terms. It’s aggressive rock and roll for sure.

Michelle Mae [Bassist, from the band’s dressing room]: It’s not punk! It’s nuclear diarrhea.

IS: Yeah, exactly. Punk is an interesting term, like what does it mean? I just wrote an essay on punk and rock and roll music appropriating gay culture, but in the ’60s people called that sound garage rock. Punk has become like Christianity where people don’t know exactly what it defines.

AG: Weird War have done a lot of label jumping, one of the first things I heard from Weird War was the contribution to the concept album Colonel Pumpernickel on Off Records.

IS: That was one of the first recordings as Weird War, and Make-Up was still together. We’re not a group in the strict sense of other rock and roll bands, it’s an umbrella organization. For instance were touring with the drummer from Dirtbombs right now, Ben Blackwell.

AG: Does that also go along with the band changing names? You were called the Scene Creamers when you came through LA last fall and now you’re back to Weird War.

IS: We were always Weird War and then we started working with new people and changed to the Scene Creamers and then in a legal dispute we lost that name and went back to Weird War. Someone else had coined it it was a long and boring story. We like the name weird war.

AG: I’ve got to ask about the rumor that Rick Rubin originally approached you to front the ex-Rage Against the Machine band.

IS: That’s a rumor… a conversation Rick and I had… in the newspaper it sounds like a big thing but it wasn’t.

AG: Your songs break away from the typical “verse-chorus verse” formula. TO an extent they feel like simple riffs and chord vamps.

IS: They’re kind of based on grooves, but they’re all written. They’re not just vamps. Like “Store Bought Pot,” we were trying to make a linear song. It’s loosely inspired by Funkadelic’s “Free Your Mind and Your Ass Will Follow.” It’s different, but the drumbeat’s inspired by Donnie Hathaway. That’s how our songs are. They’re a pastiche of things that inspire us. The lyrics have to do with Babylon.

AG: So there is a definite hip-hop influence to the music?

IS: Influenced by that and the presentation of hip-hop albums, as they’re kind of a drama that’s played out over the course of a record. That’s something that has been lost in rock and roll albums. Instead of just a collection of songs, hip-hop records are a cycle, like an opera. We wanted to do something like that.

AG: How does that work in If You Can’t Beat ‘Em Bite ‘Em?

IS: We end with “One by One,” and begin with “Music for Masturbation.” We begin with this bizarre fascism that’s based on sexual anxiety. “Music for Masturbation” is also a thing where music has become a religion with no believers. Without any interaction. And it ends with this inspirational hymn of religion. It’s not done in a gospel manner, but in it’s lyrics.

AG: Would it be fair to say that “AK-47” is the emotional climax for the album?

IS: That’s the centerpiece of the album. Right now with rock and roll, music is without content. The problem is right now there s a lot of revisionism in rock and roll when in actuality culture is the greatest weapon, it’s the most potent weapon. The CIA has a station in Hollywood where they screen all of the scripts coming out. The US army subsidizes films that say what they want. The Sum of All Fears was subsidized by the army to the tune of millions and millions of dollars. It’s censorship on a level that hasn’t been seen since World War II. You know that movie with Matt Damon with memory loss….

AG: The Bourne Identity?

IS: Yeah, that wasn’t subsidized because they thought it was anti military. That’s a great big movie. So the idea that rock and roll is intrinsically apolitical or shouldn’t have any meaning is just a lie. Lyndon La Rouche even talks about the paradigm shift that occurred when the Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan show. Everybody talks about the effect of Elvis Presley. The idea that is institutionalized in rock and roll now is really cheating everybody to say that you’re involved in it. If you’re involved in it with no meaning that’s bogus. So “AK-47” addresses the technology gap. Every weapon that we have has been cataloged by the UN, which is essentially a US foreign policy front. We invade a country with overwhelming military superiority, and we see this and say, ‘Well, is a Vietnam kind of situation even possible now? Guerilla struggle still possible?’ I think there’s some imbalance in the technology.

AG: Do you think it’s possible?

IS: Well that’s what the song questions. We have technology that is overwhelmingly superior for killing people. The military industrial complex is a huge moneymaker, war makes a lot of money. “AK-47” is like people against technology. The FLSN, FARC, SWAPO, NPLA, etc. all these organizations rely on incredibly simple machines like the AK-47 to succeed. And that’s still happening. It’s a song of affirmation.

AG: You’re talking about Weird War countering the apathy so prevelant in rock music, but at the same time you’re opening for a band who’s current single, “The Rat” is about introversion and being completely apathetic.

IS: Right, and I love the Walkmen. I think political songs are usually a drag. But the revisionism happening now is a band that only writes nothing and is mining either soul or funk. There are only so many things you can relive – it’s all nostalgia, it’s an art show essentially. The Walkmen are nothing like that, they’re making weird music that sounds nothing like what’s been done.

AG: I’d say the same thing about Weird War.

IS: We’re a culmination of so many things. Influences are unavoidable, they’re great but when I say horrible I’m talking about groups that are like, ‘We’re cloning New Order!’ They’re not bringing anything. They’re cheating us in a way. To me we’re supposed to be forward thrusting, but college football players have been having ’80s night for the past five years. If you’re an ’80s band you’re following the tastes of a fraternity. It’s pathetic.

AG: You’ve talked about how audiences today are more diverse, you get the casual fan who may not know much about Weird War, compared to the ’80s and early ’90s underground scene where a room would be filled with die hard fans.

IS: It’s because the underground has been kind of demolished. The independent network separate from the mainstream is gone. The lines have all been blurred. One of the positive outcomes of that is there won’t be as much insularity, self-navel gazing any more – examining yourself. High art is very insurant; it refers to itself which is why people are alienated by it, except for a cabal of art people. There’s no popular high art. It’s so self-referential and only refers to its own self-aesthetic. You don’t want underground rock and roll to be like that because it’s such an important historical cultural tool.

Pantoum’s for the letdown

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No, precious reader, you are not forgotten. As my seniors are preparing for graduation and my juniors are turning the corner as the new school year approacheth, everything seems to be caving in on the school front. June’s just a ridiculous month with ridiculous deadlines and ridiculously little time to post on a ridiculously nondescript blog.

I have however been reading and playing around with a lot more poetry than previous months this past year. The most recent Dean Young collection is flooring me and I’m ever so slowly going through Mr. Berryman’s Dream Songs. I read a couple everyday – though I feel hopelessly lost sometimes I anticipate actually finishing this book. This has lead me to an interesting thought about poetry, poets, and how we go about picking our “favorites.” In my more impressionable undergrad years, it wouldn’t take much for me to jump on board various (overly canonized) authors – one poem that struck the right chord was often enough to do it. I can think specifically of one Bob Kaufman, one T. S. Eliot, and one Elizabeth Bishop. And while I still admire all of the aforementioned poets today, there’s only one that’d still be relegated to “favorite,” these days (not so fast, Eliot!).

Perhaps not being as focused on academic minutiae and not bogged down with as much journalistic riff raff as I’ve been the past few years, I’ve been playing around with form a bit more. I’ve been on a pantoum kick of late. The structure is playful (google it yourself!). I’m not particularly proud of these poems – the content is like what? and the meter is a bit off (I’ve been shooting for nice, clean octameter). Yes, I am fully aware of the weak slant rhyme in the second poem- just leave it, will ya? However, maybe this will be a place to occasionally put up new work for the hell o’ it? Eh.

Pantoum 1
We dip in time like rocket ships
Uninhibited in zero gravity
Energy pulsing fingertips
Awaiting the new news delivery

Uninhibited in zero gravity
We now link limbs in synchronicity
Awaiting the new news delivery
Rubbing shins under one’s humidity

We now link limbs in synchronicity
Nudged shoulders, jostled arms, lost grip
Rubbing shins under one’s humidity
Stumble off course find a new trip

Nudged shoulders, jostled arms, lost grip
Energy pulsing fingertips
Stumble off course find a new trip
We dip in time like rocket ships.

Pantoum for five books
The jazz we sing is savory
Unclothed unseen in your Iran
Ras and yams electricity
Shut eyes dried nose lost in Sudan

Unclothed unseen in your Iran
We dance in journals fraught with fear
Shut eyes dried nose lost in Sudan
Trujillo’s reign for us to smear

We dance in journals fraught with fear
Quixote in his windmill dreams
Trujillo’s reign for us to smear
Uncouth in mouth and all too free

Quixote in his windmill dreams
Ras and yams electricity
Uncouth in mouth and all too free
The jazz we sing is savory

Murakami’s Trombone Miasma

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I’m about 50 pages into the new Haruki Murakami book and, like most of Murakami’s work, I’m drawn to the small bits of Americana and western culture that permeates his writing. Despite having read a bunch of his translated work, I’ve yet to pinpoint what it is that gives his work that Murikami-ness that is so pleasant to read – and no, I’m not talking about his fantastical plot elements and science fiction wackiness, since that’s only working for him some of the time.

I do like that one of the characters in the book plays the trombone, which seems like a motif cropping up in his work (not simply American jazz, but the trombone itself). I flip-flop regularly, but I’m pretty sure my favorite short story of all time is “Tony Takitani” for it’s startling simplicity. In it, Tony’s father is also a jazz trombonist. Hmmm….

In any case, I was drawn to the current novel’s explanation of why this character plays the trombone:

“When I was in middle school, I happened to buy a jazz record called Blues-ette at a used record store. An old LP. I can’t remember why I bought it at the time. I had never heard jazz before. But anyway, the first tune on Side A was ‘Five Spot After Dark,’ and it was great. A guy named Curtis Fuller played the trombone on it. The first time I heard it, I felt the scales fall from my eyes. That’s it, I thought. That’s the instrument for me. The trombone and me: it was a meeting arranged by destiny.”

It blew my mind reading this namely because I finally bought Blues-ette while in Chicago last month. My visit to the Jazz Record Mart led me to an oversized vinyl bag filled with jazz gems that were long overdue in my personal collection. Fuller is truly astounding on this, and when Murakmi’s two characters hum the opening bars of “Five Spot After Dark,” I’m right there with them. One of the moodiest, instantaneously catchy songs you’re going to find. I’ve been playing this album continuously in my class the last few weeks; it’s likely that many students’ impressions of “jazz” will be made primarily by the magic of Blues-ette.

The book’s other references so far are also telling, aforementioned trombonist wants to be in a band like Tower of Power (awesome), female protagonist questions the naming of a love hotel “Alphaville” (Godard references always make me tingle) and Ben Webster is innocuously playing on a stereo in a bar. Did I mention the opening of the book takes place in a Denny’s? I realize that there are several critics that have questioned Murakami’s fetishization of western culture; is this why hipster kids like Murakami so much? Though such a discussion is one for a lengthier debate I will say that Murakami’s style is iconic and one that cannot be trivialized by his occasional use of culture signals for the pop enthusiast.

Clips that were never meant to be

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With a week and half of being back on track and a flu like no other (the “El Nino” or Flu weather systems, if you will), I haven’t been up for the usual blogging insight to which you, dear reader, have become accustomed.

In any case, a while ago an editor of mine sent out a query for hip-hop story pitches. Seeing as to how my email was never returned, it looks like my stories aren’t being picked up, which – based on the magazine and my ideas – isn’t unsurprising or even very disappointing. At the same time, I’m still interested in these topics for future writing, if I ever get around to it, though I see little room for the kind of long-form journalism that is of interest to me these days. Removing any pertinent publication names, I’m pasting my original email to my editor for the sake of posterity and for tracking of rejected article topics. Bon appetite.

[Editor],

I hope you are doing well. I have a couple of hip-hop ideas for stories that would be longer than a typical profile:

Hip-Hop and the State of the Aging Artist: Basically, I’m interested in looking at how “the rap game” has changed. Hip-hop is legitimately old at this point, and Jeff Chang’s review of Jay-Z’s last album (for the Nation of all publications!) highlighted the way that Jigga has become an aging business mogul, out of touch with his listening audience. Granted, hip-hop is full of artificial bravado and grandstanding, Jay-Z’s lyrical content is about being well past his 20s and enjoying the life of a middle-aged man. Looking at other artists that are still working through popular hip-hop outlets (Common, De La Soul, Ghostface, god knows how many other artists), maybe now is the time for a reanalysis of hip-hop and what “the game” is all about. Is this a genre maturing or merely a few artists getting out of touch with the lyrical conventions that are required to hook an audience? [Editor], I realize this sounds academic, but I was hoping to write this as a roundtable with a couple of writers (Hopefully Jeff Chang since he talks about this issue directly) and a handful of artists and kind of see if a new definition of what hip-hop is comes out of the discussion.

Another idea I was interested in was the role of the guest spot on hip-hop albums these days. Look at El-P’s guests, they’re ridiculous (as much as I love the album): Cat Power? Yo La Tengo? Mars Volta?? Common is recording a song with Lily Allen? Saul Williams’ next record is produced by Trent Reznor? Timbaland with Fall Out Boy? I feel like the guest artist has become the equivalent of the iTunes celebrity playlist. These guests help define who the artists is more so than chosen beats or lyrical content. I’m thinking an article talking to a few artists (El-P, Common, maybe someone like MIA?) and a few sidebars illustrating how guest spots have changed over time?

Lastly, could we look at hip-hop’s political relevance today? 15 years ago (give or take) Ice Cube called rap Black America’s CNN. And though Dead Prez and the Coup still do the Dead Prez and Coup thing, who else is advocating for social and political change? Is anyone even listening? Again, a roundtable format seems most appropriate with sidebars looking at the history of social critique in hip-hop (Hell, Grandmaster Flash just got inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and they started this whole thing with “The Message”).
 
I realize these articles sound conceptual, but I’d be happy to make them specific, if you’re interested. I’ve been trying to actively avoid the pitch yr favorite artist thing, and these are ideas I’m genuinely interested in at the moment.

Hope everything’s going well,
Etc…

“It’s You! It’s Me! And It’s Dancing!”

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It was a joy today to find out that Los Campesinos! have signed to Arts & Crafts for North American releases. The band’s EP is going to be released state-side in July and that makes July a good month in my book (not to mention Harry Potter, Sonic Youth @ the Greek, Daft Punk in LA!, and a new school year…). If you haven’t heard Los Campesinos! yet, they’ve got a few songs on their site to check out, though if you can track down “You! Me! Dancing!” your life will never be the same – there really has never been as good a song about secretly liking to dance even though you know you’re no good at it. Band’s yet to venture to the U.S., though I believe Lollapalooza will be their debut. Expect the hype machine to kick in full gear in the next few months…

Kudos to Arts & Crafts (home of the brave and mighty Broken Social Scene and all the chaos that must entail).

Koalas and Other Goodness Seen This Morning

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I’ve awoken to an overcast Saturday and greeted on the WFMU blog with a lovely clip of one Kid Koala doing his koala thing. Invariably when I get engaged in a conversation of turntablism (which, granted, isn’t the standard bill of discussion with most people but it happens once in awhile), Kid Koala is usually the guy I bring up. More so than Q-Bert, or any of the other Picklz, or the Beat Junkies, or cats from the DJ Shadow school is cinematic perversion, Koala is “adding to the discourse” as one of my educational colleagues would refer to it. However, he’s also a really engaging performer, without resorting to physical flamboyance in his shows. He’s played bingo with his audience, presented goofy slideshows of comic books he has written, and last I heard his latest tour was a puppet show?? And while his newest album isn’t the greatest, here are a couple of vids that just made my day:

Koala playing Moon River. I’ve come to the understanding that you cannot improve on the film version of this song. It really is as good as one song can be. The history behind it is also fascinating to me. That being said, Koala’s take on the song is the most tastefully performed, emotional performances I’ve heard.

Music video for Koala’s Basin Street Blues. Fantastic song. Art reminds me of Jay Ryan.

Elsewhere on the net, one gossipy insider predicts that the big song cometh: Common featuring Lily Allen. I’m sold.

And Mario Vargas Llosa has a new book out? But it’s only available in the U.K.? Dios Mio!

Anyone else underwhelmed by this year’s panel list for the FOB?

“Nothing Is the Only Thing You Ever Seem to Have”

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I’ve just gotten back from seeing Man Man perform in San Diego. I don’t remember another time I came out of a concert literally speechless. Though it probably doesn’t need to be said, if Man Man has a tour date even remotely close, this is a band that needs to be experienced. The problem is, as Rhea pointed out when I gushed about the show, I’ve made numerous best-show-ever-aphorisms numerous times. Clearly, how can anyone believe me if I lazily resort to that kind of hyperbole for every third concert I go to these days (though, in my defense, I am more than a bit more selective when it comes to which shows I’m willing to pay for these days; the three concert a week schedule my roommate and I somehow maintained for close to two years probably did a good job of desensitization)? I’m going to try and break down how this show was different – if such a tame word can even apply to the Man Man experience. Radiohead, the Walkmen, Animal Collective, and even wee Jon B. are all artists I’ve seen numerous times (six or more each) and have been fully invigorated each time – though Jon, admittedly has had his fair share of off nights. Man Man is frighteningly energetic in a way that is not at all going to given proper justice anywhere on this blog. Five musicians more talented than they have any right to be display true “group psychosis” as my friend’s roommate commented, on stage at every moment of their breakneck set. From hardcore to New Orleans jazz to doo-wop to pirate shanties, Man Man tackles everything at any given moment. Wait, I don’t know if that’s clear; Man Man plays all of said genres in a song all the time.

To put it another way, it was understandable when my friend explained that there was “no way” that his girlfriend would ever come to a Man Man show. The sheer amount of testosterone-driven terror and carnivalesque debauchery in the yelling, screaming, and lounge crooning that took place just ain’t a dignified, suitable place for yer ol’ lady. It was understandable that the guy standing next to me was caught in a frenetic, robotic dance for the entire show. It was understandable when the saxophone playing William Vollmann look-alike felt the compulsive need to hit himself in the head with a free cymbal (I immediately thought of this guy at approximately 3:40 in the video). It was understandable when said Vollmann look-alike felt it necessary to repeatedly karate chop himself in the neck as a means of attaining a certain vocal effect. The drummer and main singer (named Honus Honus) leaping in the air at the same time? Understandable. The percussionist violently striking his xylophone with a string of bells? Understandable. Band members needing to scream hysterically at random moments in the show? So completely understandable. That the Epicentre in San Diego felt like it was at half its capacity for the evening’s performance? Inexplicable.

I realize this rambling post has done nothing in capturing the band’s performance, so go forth and see when you can. If that isn’t feasible, both of their albums are swell, with last year’s Six Demon Bag being utterly divine. It also looks like Man Man’s working on their next album, though I don’t know if I’m ready to be prescribed another dose of meaty insanity quite yet.
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Er… in unrelated news I need to eventually speak up on the awesomeness that is the second episod of the This American Life television series. I also want to extrapolate and talk myself through my thoughts on Daye’s bogglingly great documentary footage, but should probably make sure it’s ok with her first. Daye?

“God dammit! … I love John Coltrane!”

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I’m pretty sure this is as good as it gets. The shear joy of this made me think of that awesome Mountain Goats song about a certain jazz god, which made me want to listen to a certain Love Supreme.

Based on the sole comment below, it clearly looks like the non-Kanye-ness of my earlier post has been observed. Don’t worry, Gap Boy, you’re on notice!

Don’t You Know That You’re Toxic?

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Is it too early to be nostalgic for hip-hop’s mainstream awesomeness of a few years ago? Regardless of where you stand on mainstream hip-hop’s lyrics and braggadocio, recall the sense of excitement when the Neptunes were in full swing producing everybody. Outkast came out and had not only the biggest song of the decade thus far, but still made one of the most consistent hip-hop albums of the year (at least Big Boi’s half). Somewhere around there Common made that record that was all psychedelic and creepy and the slickest product of his career (anyone that gets Prince as a contributing artist on their albums is okay in my book). Even Cee-Lo had those sick solo albums before going “Crazy.”

It’s not that I’ve got something against hip-hop now, it just feels like there was a big evolutionary step taking place in the genre a few years ago and things have remained relatively stagnant since. Best of all, this evolution was taking place on mainstream radio in songs that were the harbingers for multi-platinum record sales; people had reasons to buy albums. And I don’t want to start imagining things in a different paradigm of iTunes band-artist-of-the-week-single-only affectations, but I have to wonder where the industry is going astray.

Perhaps it wasn’t even hip-hop that was making these leaps. I recall an interview I held with Jon Brion where he spoke in adoring tones for the then hit Spears single “Toxic,” and I strangely agreed with him about the magic of its chorus. It suddenly felt like an exciting time for pop, hip-hop and all sorts of awesomeness. Once jaded by their ubiquity, I was actually interested in where the *NSync solo careers would meander. And that’s not to say that this needs to be artist specific; the artists at the tops of pop and hip-hop charts were doing the kinds of things that were interesting, which is more than can be said from most of the field today.

In regards to underground hip-hop things couldn’t be worse. In the past couple of weeks, both Subtitle (Aka the tall guy that used to work at Amoeba) and Jurassic 5 have thrown in their towels. And hey, one of those artists was even good (sorry, 2na!). El-P’s sophomore album came out last week. It is exactly what I wanted out of an El-P album: it’s angry, it’s honest, and it’s confrontational. As satisfying as the record is, it’s telling that he has rounded up the entire indie-rock pantheon to support him throughout the record. In addition to his Def Jux cadre, I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead features guest appearances by folks like the Mars Volta, Cat Power, and even Yo La Tengo. I like all of the aforementioned artists, but on El-P’s album? (Full disclosure: in regards to these artists, the Village Voice nailed it)

I’m not yearning for the golden era of hip-hop, or the native tongues/native sons/backpacker whatever you want to call it. I’m not even asking for another resurrection of Tupac or Biggie (though it should be pointed out that once again, one of these artists had a number one album this month). I’m asking for a breath of fresh air in the stale environment of today’s radio-played hip-hop.