Monitor Down

First of all, I love indie. I love it like a 15-year-old boy loves Megan Fox, sans anything involving posters on ceilings. So before you get up in my face with loud, defensive, aggravated comments about how great it is — I know, I know. Mellow.

But again like our halter-wearing temptress, there are a lot of seemingly reasonable people who HATE indie. And when you start to talk to these people about their hatred (once they get past the asinine jabs about hipster jeans, beards and technical guitar skills, like those even matter), you start to realize they may actually be on to something. Because even though indie is awesome, it’s only really awesome if it’s done right. And sometimes, you just have to take a loved one by the collar and tell them when they’re not doing something right. Right?

Here are some of the things indie musicians do that piss off people who otherwise have good taste in music. (Subtext: if you hate indie because the only style of music you like is speed metal or radio country, then this list, and my entire blog, will probably mean nothing to you.)

1. Whine a lot more than necessary. Most people understand that songwriting is about expressing emotions, so like-minded listeners can identify when their parents get divorced and they’re shuttled back and forth like a fake ID at a sorority house. But those alleged “genuine” emotions shouldn’t cause stool to run soft in the bowel, and those “genuine” lyrics shouldn’t have to become ironic Facebook status updates. Despite the majority of indie songwriters who express their inner ingénue at an appropriate level, a lot of them tend to dwell on the idea of adult male vulnerability, riding it like the bow of the Titanic until people in the crowd are considering dialing a hotline. The result: indie rock that is backed only by overdramatic 14-year-old girls and moms who are just glad their kid isn’t listening to Insane Clown Posse. And the woe in my heart bleeds like yesterday’s undercooked pot roast.

2. Sing like the deaf. Okay, part of being vulnerable and “real” is not having an overtly superior singing style. No one expects to be empathizing with Bono, or relating on a personal level to Axl Rose. (Yikes.) Still, there are a couple of fundamentals that are just part of singing — like pitch control, and not making the audience laugh out loud. So when the biggest Clap Your Hands Say Yeah single sounds like Joe Assface got up on karaoke night and ran a schoolbus over the solfege scale, it’s tough to hold the contempt in check. It’s even worse when it’s a cover of a song people are already familiar with, like Clem Snide’s abhorrent version of Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful,” or Ben Gibbard’s cringe-inducing take on Bjork’s “All is Full of Love.” I don’t care how cute his own songs are, taking on Bjork’s most well-heard single with his northern-accented po-boy whimper is like climbing Mount St. Helens in a T-shirt and Converse low-tops. When the tone that comes across is “this didn’t sound like it did in my head, but oh well,” something is probably lost.

3. Shamelessly imitate other musicians. How many more indie lead singers are going to try to sound like Ian Curtis before someone devotes a top-10 list to it? Even though the Interpol/Editors/White Lies/Horrors/She Wants Revenge singing style is still cool almost 30 years after the end of Joy Division, indie bands with that sound are about as rare as lice at a Phish concert. At least there’s the rejuvenating presence of the Libertines/Arctic Monkeys/Bloc Party/Larrikin Love/Paddingtons/We Are Scientists “reckless” sound to remind us that anyone can roll out of bed in the morning and record an album between snorting lines and scraping the paint off vintage Telecasters. (And they’re all better than the Panic at the Disco/Fall Out Boy/Paramore/The Academy Is…/MCR pseudo-indie outfits with pop-punk mafia ties. )

4. Fail to grasp playing instruments. Once again, the everyman’s musician doesn’t need to play guitar like Eddie Van Halen. (Or Blake Mills, formerly of Simon Dawes.) It can even be a point of pride to be “self-taught” … but it shouldn’t come into question whether the guitarist is using his hands or his feet. Case in point: Babyshambles frontman Pete Doherty and his zombie-esque guitarist Mick Whitnall are a page out of the “Make Sure You’ll Be Able to Remember the Recording Session” manual. As talented as Doherty is, his band has released possibly the two worst-sounding albums in music, and yes, that crashing sound at the end of Down in Albion is him falling on his wasted ass. But even musicians who are too bombed to employ the musical skills they have are still superior to the ones who are not wasted, and just try to play like they are. Even worse, there’s the whole sub-layer of completely un-musical local musicians who try to get away with “unconventional” techniques, like playing the guitar like a stand-up bass, relying on “tones” or feedback to create music, or literally just holding the guitar throughout a show only to play two strings during the loud part. Just learn a song, butterfingers.

5. Create noise experiments. Lou Reed tried it with Metal Machine Music, an album consisting largely of feedback – and even that was regarded as a joke. Imagine, then, the impact your crappy, untrained garage band will have on the musical landscape when you unleash your new brand of electric-drill-inspired, ultra-distorted noise music for all to appreciate. Will it be “refreshing” when the opening notes of your first performance sound like a large train trying to shove through a small tunnel? Will the squeaky chair hooked up to a loose guitar pickup (.1) break anyone out of their sad, close-minded funk? Will they “get it” when you finally chop the head off your guitar with a bolt cutter at the end of your set? Probably not, you ridiculous excuse for a musician – please fuck off, and refer to number 4 above.

6. Selectively hate major labels. Indie musicians take pride in being independent, and in getting their music noticed without the aid of the big, soul-sucking music industry monster. They enjoy picking apart bands they’ve heard of who have “sold out,” changed their sound a little, and started touring with Velvet Revolver and Jane’s Addiction. “Damn, the Frog Bots get one deal and they change completely, and now they’re only playing for meatheads and teeny boppers at $75 a ticket. Way to betray the scene, man.” Unless, of course, it’s a friend of theirs. In that case, “did you hear about the Narwhal Endeavor? They just got the deal of a lifetime, and now they’re touring with Pearl Jam. That’s awesome.” And finally, what happens when a suit comes to knock on their own door? Everyone and their roommate shits a brick, that’s what happens. So much for integrity, I guess.

7. Have obscure-band-offs. Sports guys like to rattle off stats, car guys like to compare engines, and techies like to talk about the latest gear they bought. But somehow, none of it is as infuriating as the veiled contempt in an indie rocker’s voice when he (or she) name-drops an ultra-secret underground band he (or she) is hoping you’ll be stumped by. “Yeah, we (.2) were handing out CDs at the Glimmering Sock Muppets show last night. Killer band.” This is followed by an expectant stare. The only way to respond gracefully is to name-drop the primary influence of the Glimmering Sock Muppets, or at least point out how awesome it is that they poached the lead singer from the Kitten Tossers last week. Though the former is preferable. Of course, if you don’t recognize them, your only hope of staying cool is to actually be in a more noteworthy band — in which case your non-recognition might even cause the questioner to question his own sense of band judgment. Then again, you could always do some research in the used section at Amoeba, you poseur.

8. Go for the “indie look.” Wearing frayed vintage stuff isn’t necessarily the biggest fault of indie musicians — but then there are the ones who try to out-indie everyone by sporting every indie fashion trend at once. They usually end up looking like one of Lou Pearlman’s sadistic boy-band experiments: greasy, deliberately tangled hair; the light stubble that says “I’m not overly focused on my outward appearance;” the prerequisite all-weather scarf; the mod hat no one wears outside of an Urban Outfitters catalog; suspenders; the collage of concert wristbands; the v-neck that almost exposes nipple, for that subtle feminine mystery; the obligatory women’s fur-lined jacket, just to make it clear they don’t care what you think of them. And of course, no indie look would be complete without the nearly constant semblance of posing for something — something such as the inevitable barrage of Myspace photography that comes after the first round of dirty martinis. The only justice here is the notion that, according to historic fashion norms, these guys will be trying to pull off “bohemian vogue” until well after senility has set in. Eff that, ya whipper snapper.

9. Idolize their genre above all others. I’ve met metal guys who are into reggae, and hip-hop guys who are into funk and disco. There’s even an entire segment of punks who get into country. But for indie musicians, the only thing better than indie rock is indie rock and beer. Just take an indie rocker on a long road trip and they’ll have something to say about everything that comes out of your stereo until you start playing Muse, the Smiths, or something that sounds like Muse or the Smiths. I’ll admit that I’m living proof of this, if not to the degree that’s possible when you put someone with musical opinions into one of the most clique-y genres ever created. At least it’s easy to start up a conversation with them at a party: just mention the undeniable production benefits of auto-tune. You’ll start a landslide.

10. Worship Radiohead. Actually, I can’t blame indie guys for this, because Radiohead is awesome. But hey, some people hate them. Makes sense to me.

P.S. Think of anything else that pisses off the anti-indie crowd? Comment section that mofo.

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1. i.e. Chico Legends, circa 2002
2. In indie terms, “we” always means “me and my band,” unless the speaker is physically standing next to his girlfriend, and indicating her clearly. And it’s still possible she’s in his band.

Like many people, there are songs constantly streaming in my head. They can fade in like a mist, or come crashing onto the scene like a warthog. They can drown out things like real-life conversations, or simply hang in the background while I go about my day. It’s like having a built-in music player, sans record-industry meddling. iTunes, meet iBrain. Now kindly go get iBrain a Dr. Pepper.

The thing about my iBrain, though, is it doesn’t cost anything. Not a dollar a download, not one cent a download, nothing. Even better, there’s no account to sign up for, no annoying emails to block, and no mega-corporation to decide what songs are allowed to be there. Unless you count taste. I usually let Taste, LTD pretty much do what it wants.

So here are a few of the songs that have been occupying my iBrain rotation as of late. Feel free to listen in, start your own mental download, and show the industry suits that you’ll listen to whatever you want, when you want. As long as it’s not while your boss or significant other is saying something important. That’s just bad for business.

The Vines, Autumn Shade II. Like the first one, but Craig Nichols nailed the wispy, esoteric harmonies even harder, and it survives more than three listens.

Blur, Tracy Jacks. Because that guitar part is catchier than a left-fielder with sonar. Whoa, did a sports analogy just make it onto this blog?

Radiohead, I Might Be Wrong. This riff could smash a hole in the side of your grandaddy’s barn without an ounce of remorse. I heard it even robbed a nun in broad daylight. Shame on it.

David Bowie, New Killer Star. The bassline to this song would make me punch a guy in the face, if the music video didn’t make me feel dizzy.

The Primrose League, Stealing All Those Cars. It’s not as well-known as some, but the intricate guitar work and vocal harmonies manage to find their way into your bloodstream.

The Smashing Pumpkins, Hummer. That opening solo is like a bucket of cold water on a saturday morning, but somewhat more awesome.

The Von Bondies, C’mon, C’mon. Ok, I watch TV. But screw you if you don’t appreciate 1-2-4 guitar stumming and a loud voice. At least I’m not repping Jet.

Versa Vice, It’s Clear. Another lesser-known band, but the guitar and bass are the muggers who 1-2 you to death in the alleyway behind Circle-K.

Blur, Death of a Party. I usually try to avoid dumping the same band on people twice, but the creepy vibes from this one have a tendency to linger. You just try to shake them off.

Queens of the Stone Age, Make It Wit Chu. Who knew a song titled in text speak would actually be good? Josh Homme once again demonstrates his ability to get inside your head with a piano and a guitar.

Gran Ronde, Wisdom. This short number hits the pleasing-guitar-riff quotient right on the head.

There are three things everyone seems to have opinions about: politics, religion, and Radiohead. On two of those topics, one dissenting view can cause a flat-out argument. When it’s Radiohead, it can cause someone to go insane. It’s quite a phenomenon.

That’s because, like politics and religion, Radiohead is complicated. When an ardent Radiohead fan hears disparaging remarks, or even worse, lack of acknowledgment about their favorite band, it’s easy for them to assume the disparager is uninitiated, and therefore not equipped to make the call. Because “getting” Radiohead isn’t like “getting” Puddle of Mudd. It doesn’t just happen after hearing a couple of songs on Internet radio (“They’re so dreary and weird … how can you like this?”). Most people who are wanton over Radiohead have listened to them for years, seen them evolve, and have grown immensely attached to them.

This is why whenever you ask someone what they like about Radiohead, you get a vague, impassioned gushing of adjectives, with no real explanation. It can leave you even more clueless than before. Or thinking your friends are hippies.

But if you’re into music, and a little open-minded, Radiohead is totally worth getting into. Because the hype is true. They’re like the 200-piece orchestra of pop bands. They’re a punk mentality shoved into something that is about as far from punk as you can get (without involving bagpipes or accordions. Yet.) Their music explains why Thom Yorke is so twitchy and paranoid, and why he sings like that. (He doesn’t always.) Radiohead is pure, 80-proof sonic bliss, if you get what they’re doing.
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Apparently, Oasis guitarist and absolutely the most arrogant dude in rock history, Noel Gallagher, has left the band after the cancellation of a Paris concert Friday. This sucks big time.

Oasis had planned to play the Paris concert Rock en Seine Friday night, but canceled just before they were due onstage. Event organizers explained, holding back no detail, that the cancellation was caused by an “altercation.” (Further details provided that the altercation occurred “in Paris.”)

Afterward, the hard-headed guitarist, who has also written the bulk of Oasis’ material and provided backup and occasional lead vocals, posted a statement on the band’s Web site saying he was calling it quits.

The statement reads: “It’s with some sadness and great relief to tell you that I quit Oasis tonight. People will write and say what they like, but I simply could not go on working with Liam a day longer. Apologies to all the people who bought tickets for the shows in Paris, Konstanz and Milan.”

If Noel means what he says, and we all know how insistent he can be, then it’s definitely a sad event in music, especially considering the new direction the band had been taking. Now who will bear the brunt of my obnoxious snob analogies? I don’t know.

The story is available at NME.com.

Followers of Justin Kennedy’s Twitter stream the past few months got a nice indie-2.0 treat: a ride through the backstreets, pubs and record shops of the UK on the coattails of Los Angeles-based indie outfit Army Navy. Fans tweeted and gabbed with the band as they toured in support of their self-titled debut album, released in October 2008.

Sending Twitter updates from the road, from motel rooms, and from wherever they could find free WiFi, front man Kennedy kept followers posted on the band’s crazy, rowdy and sometimes grueling tour through the angled country with pics, jokes and commentary. One tweet spoke of “living off very little sleep, lots of pints, and walking miles every day with all our gear,” evoking images of the band trudging through narrow, rain-soaked alleys, amps hoisted above heads like Vietnam grunts. In reality, it wasn’t far from the truth.

“It was pretty brutal,” Kennedy said through a recent email interview. “The tube is great and gets you all over, it’s just lugging all the gear into the tube and trying to find the clubs was a bit stressful … Next time we are hiring a helicopter.”

At least the beer was good.

“There have been lots of amazing shows, and we’ve met some great people along the way as well,” Kennedy said. “So it all balances out.”

The band played pubs, record shops and festivals for a week straight in July, even hitting two places on one day. Surprisingly, each location seemed to find them in front of familiar ears.

“We find we have a few fans in towns all over… I guess it’s the power of the internet,” Kennedy said. “People can really come across music wherever they are now, even if the local record shop doesn’t have the album.”

And the UK isn’t the only new soil on which the band has trodden. Among Kennedy’s Twitter pics they can also be spotted setting up to play on the Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien. The band hung out with Conan himself and performed “My Thin Sides” in front of the comedian and a live studio (and Internet) audience.

The band setting up at Pure Groove Records, London

“We are all massive Conan fans, so it was a really exciting and scary opportunity,” Kennedy said.

Of course, with good fortune always comes shitty luck. The band managed to get almost all of their gear stolen during a Seattle tour stop in May, losing several vintage guitars, drums, amps and other equipment. It happened in the oddest of places – out in front of Kennedy’s parents’ house.

“We always bring our gear in on tour, but we thought we would be fine out in Port Orchard, Washington,” Kennedy said. “But we were wrong. We have no idea if people knew we had gear or they just lucked out.” Among the lifted items was Louie’s dead grandfather’s ’76 Telecaster. “It really sucks,” Kennedy said.

Fans and online music publications rallied to the band’s support, calling for the lynching of equipment thieves everywhere, and alerts went out to keep an eye on area pawn shops. The band posted a blog entry on Myspace, and are patiently waiting for any word.

But for now, they’re concentrating on better things — like the next record, and the next tour.

“We are in pre-production … we’re getting really close,” Kennedy said. “Also we’re about to put our debut album out in the UK and follow it with another, bigger tour this fall. Then releasing the next album early next year is the plan.” (Namewise, Kennedy is torn between Living Poor With Style and The Last Place I Want to Be is in My Head. We’ll see.)

If all goes well, Army Navy will be another solid entry on the list of indie bands the rest of the world worships, that most of the U.S. still doesn’t know about. Which would make them as good as any great indie band out there. But hopefully it will be better than that.

Check out the band’s Myspace page and latest video for “Saints.” The debut album is available on Amazon.

People can say some pretty stupid things online. Maybe it’s the anonymity, maybe it’s just a spur-of-the-moment thought immortalized forever on a message board. Some of them are understandable, given circumstances. OK, your brain farted and spat out that retarded statement, and now you’re feeling better. Alright.

But sometimes, the things people say can cause great need for release of frustration. Some of them can make you want to steal a car and ram it into a shopping mall, or grab the next person to walk past you and shove his face into a tree trunk. For example, I’ve heard, more than once, someone who is supposedly into rock music say they hate Nirvana, and that Nirvana sucks. This is utterly berserk. Listen up, pinhead.

First of all, the words “hate” and “sucks” are oversimplified ways to express discontent with something. People use them when they don’t know how else to identify or explain what they don’t like about something. And don’t get me wrong, there is much not to like about Nirvana. (Big hint: It’s designed that way.) But to say Nirvana “sucks” and that you “hate” them is entirely missing the point, like saying “man, Casablanca is so damn sappy,” or “why does Van Gogh paint so many sunflowers?” Let me explain.
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Radiohead has released a composition written in honor of Harry Patch, the last remaining UK veteran of World War I.

Patch died July 25 at age 111, having been one of the world’s last four survivors of the First World War, the third oldest man in the world, and briefly the oldest man in Europe. As Thom Yorke says on Radiohead’s Web site, “I had heard a very emotional interview with him a few years ago on the Today program on Radio4. The way he talked about war had a profound effect on me.”

The song, inspired by Patch’s story, was composed and recorded a few weeks before his death. Johnny Greenwood arranged the strings, Yorke wrote the lyrics, and everything was recorded live in an abbey.

The song’s feel is old-fashioned and awe-struck, the way one would imagine a dirge for every fallen soldier would sound. The lyrics are bleak and dark, evoking an old war documentary or Normandy footage. It is sparse and delicate, and powerful at the same time. The abbey’s echo can be heard in the strings, giving it an ancient, wooden feel.

“Harry Patch (In Memory Of)” is available for download at Radiohead’s site and can be previewed, 30 seconds at a time, through a somewhat irritating flash player. The cost to download is 1 UK pound, or around $1.70. All proceeds are going to the Royal British Legion.
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I know, that headline sounds kind of pretentious. You should be able to like whatever you want, and no one else should have anything to say about it. But the problem is, it’s not usually like that. At least, not until you figure out how to avoid all the judgmental assholes you know. Until then, it seems like someone else always has something to say about the things you like, and the things they think you shouldn’t like.

For example, rock guys aren’t supposed to like rap. It’s not “rock ‘n roll” to like rap, so all the judgmental asshole rock guys (there are a lot of those) will get on your case about it.

Screw that. Here is a list of rap songs you can safely own up to liking, with some points to defend your opinion with, in case your taste in music is descended upon by the over-opinionated quotient in rock fandom. As long as you can shove logic in their face, you win and the assholes lose.

Outkast, Rosa Parks. This song is as accessible to the rock-listening population as any Red Hot Chili Peppers number. Believe it or not, there’s a guitar in there, and it’s playing a pretty sweet melody. There’s also a wood block, which is as rustic and down-home as any cowbell. Plus, the flute sound and lyrics make it seem almost zen, which is more or less the opposite of your stereotypical hip-hop ditty, and hence something rockers can get behind. It’s also named after a pioneer in civil liberties, so that’s worth some history cred. What history cred does Fall Out Boy have to brag about?

Busta Rhymes, Gimme Some More. Not only does it have an actual violin track (borrowed from “Psycho,” no less), the background is filled up with … bass and drums. How much simpler can you get without involving empty coffee cans and three-gallon buckets? Besides the basic appeal of the music, Busta Rhymes is just funny (his name is BUSTA RHYMES). Again, not like some rappers. And the video? On par with Tom Petty’s “Don’t Come Around Here No More” as far as hallucinogenics go. Hallucinogenics are way rock ‘n’ roll, man.
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The human brain is weird, and sometimes things just don’t add up. Why, for example, can somebody like peanut butter but hate peanuts? Or try to squeeze through the last quarter-second of a yellow light, but get annoyed when other people do it? It baffles.

And, as you may have gleamed from the title, this baffledom extends to none other than the Cold War Kids. I’ve had several run-ins with this OC band (like, as in their music) since they began their steady ascent to popularity a few years ago, and despite a damning heap of evidence suggesting I should like them (a lot), it just seems to be another one of those things, and I have no idea why.

To demonstrate the depth of this conundrum (which I’m sure is shattering your world as you read this), here is a list of everything the Cold War Kids have going for them, in my modest opinion:

1. Nathan Willett’s voice is unique, loud and completely amazing.

2. Their sense of melody is pretty much genius.

3. Their choices in instrumentation aren’t obvious, and provide just what each song needs.
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Pop singer Michael Jackson was rushed to the hospital around 1p.m. Thursday after suffering a cardiac arrest, several media outlets are reporting.

E! Online reports that an eyewitness saw the 50-year-old Jackson taken to UCLA Medical Center in an ambulance from his Los Angeles home. E! also heard from Jackson’s father, Joe Jackson, who is currently in Las Vegas. He said, “People in Los Angeles called me and are with Michael and tell me he was taken to the hospital … his mother is on her way to the hospital now to check in on him.” The elder Jackson had no information on Michael’s condition.

TMZ also spoke with Joe Jackson, who told them Michael is “not doing well,” as well as to one of the Jackson brothers, who said he is in “really bad shape.”

Jackson collapsed in his home around noon, and staff found him unresponsive, E! reports. The LA City Fire department handled the call, but refused to identify Jackson by name to the media.

“When the team arrived, they saw that CPR was already in progress by someone at the home. The person not breathing was transported to UCLA Medical Center and remains there,” a fire department spokesperson said.

Michael Jackson was due to perform several shows in London next month, but was forced to cancel due to contract problems.
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