Monitor Down

Fans of Hollywood indie outfit Red Arrow Messenger have something else to look forward to besides the band’s melodic folk-pop, tight three-part harmonies and awe-inspiring stage presence. Every Monday in February the band is hosting a free variety show-style concert featuring favorite local bands, comedians, magic, food, and even a much-anticipated laser light show.

The February 1 show featured a magician escaping from a straight jacket (and mystically conjuring a pair of chickens), a stand-up comedy act, a self-photography setup, and the musical stylings of Last American Buffalo along with the dark, velvety croon of All Wrong and the Plans Change. With this Monday’s bill featuring tribal-tronic two-piece Rumspringa and oldies-inspired Jenny O, it’s pretty much guaranteed to meet or exceed the mark, whatever else the band has up its sleeve. (I hear it’s barbecue.)

The audio-visual (and nutritional) smorgasbord takes place at the Bootleg Theater in Echo Park, starting at 8 pm. Everyone gets in the door free, and beer and wine is relatively cheap.

Bootleg Theater:
2220 Beverly Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90057
(213) 389-3856

If it’s possible for band to be sainted, Radiohead is trying hard.

The band (Namely Phil) announced they’re playing a Haiti benefit show Sunday, January 24, at 7 pm at the Henry Fonda Theater in Los Angeles. Tickets are being auctioned on Ticketmaster in order to raise as much money as possible — which means you’ll be spending a lot. However, all proceeds are going to the Oxfam Haiti relief fund, and since the band is currently in the midst of recording their next album, it also means you could be treated to some new, un-rehearsed material. Radiohead on the raw is a rare thing indeed.

The ticket auction started today (January 21) at 8 pm PST, and will run until Saturday January 23 at 11 pm. Visit Radiohead’s site for details.

Whatever happens in 2010 — whether it be a massive earthquake that sinks California, a tidal wave that washes out everything on the eastern seaboard, or a horrendous new trend whereby everyone tries to become a vampire (oh crap, that’s already happening) — at least there will be these seven albums. In order of anticipation (I suspect), here are the seven most conniption-inducing albums expected in 2010.

MGMT
Title? Congratulations
When, son? Spring
What gives: After selling over a million copies of their electro-psychedelic debut Oracular Spectacular, Ben Goldwasser and Andrew VanWyngarden’s next release is the result of the band’s coping with the craziness of their new success. Their well-intended (read: crazy) idea is to release an album with no radio-friendly singles, in hopes of people actually listening to the whole thing rather than just downloading two tracks to play in their Scions. Though this will likely result in their label asking them to go back into the studio (d’oh), we hope them the best. It also purportedly involves more guitars, which is always a good thing.

Hole
Title? Nobody’s Daughter
When, son? Undecided.
What gives: With the origins of Courtney Love’s albums as buried in speculation as she herself is in media scat, this one is starting to look no different. There is talk of using material recorded during her stint working with Billy Corgan (responsible for songwriting contributions to Celebrity Skin), as well as songwriting from 4 Non Blondes front woman Linda Perry. Still, with what she’s capable of when not wasted, it may have potential. The album’s release will be accompanied by a tour, during which the live performances will sound nothing like the recordings.

Interpol
Title? TBA
When, son? Early 2010
What gives: Though at this point their new album only seems to exist in speculation, Interpol have commented that their 2010 release will be a return to the more raw, off-kilter-sounding production featured in the band’s debut, Turn On the Bright Lights. Rather than swimming in post-production gloss and uniformity the way the band’s previous two releases have tended to do, they’re electing to experiment with guitar noises to create atmospheric sounds they can record directly, according to NME in November. No word yet on the involvement of fancy stage footwork and shoulder holsters.

Spoon
Title? Transference
When, son? January 19
What gives: After scoring big with 2007’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Spoon found themselves in the middle of downtown oh-crap-we’re-big-now’sville. So like indie bands often do in this situation, they ditched Hollywood and returned home, hoping to bring some of their following with them. Spoon’s self-produced new Transference is said to be a return to the band’s lo-fi beginnings, with less musical complexity and an “uglier” sound. Hey, if ugly sounds like the samples floating around the internet, we can do ugly.

Arcade Fire
Title? TBA
When, son? May
What gives? After somehow blowing the minds of hipsters and churchgoing folk at the same time, the Canadian seven-piece got back together with Neon Bible producer Markus Dravs for their third release. The album, described here in Spin, seems shrouded in mystery, except that it will be released sometime in May and will be accompanied by a tour. As an additional side note, it will also reportedly contain music. Too much detail?

Stone Temple Pilots
Title? TBA
When, son? May, we think.
What gives: The much-anticipated new album, the band’s first record since 2001’s Shangri-La Dee Da, is supposed to carry 11 tracks, with a few B-sides planned for Japan and UK releases (begging the question of why they are considered B-sides if they are recorded specifically for release). Though the band has predicted May as a tentative release date, a pending lawsuit with Atlantic Records having to do with pesky “unfulfilled albums” might still throw a monkey wrench into the works. We’ll see.

Radiohead
Title? Not decided.
When, son? Not decided, either.
What gives: Despite widely circulated rumors that Radiohead would not be releasing any more standard albums (which apparently was a “misquote”), the band is said to be working on a release for 2010, including recording in January to continue work done last summer. Of course, characteristic of the mysterious band, there are no details available. None. How infuriating. (I do, however, have links to a ton of their music here if you’re feeling nostalgic.)

To the delight of grunge fans who enjoy off-kilter time signatures, songs about snakes and the pleasant aroma of grilled Barbie dolls, Soundgarden is planning a reunion for the new year, after more than 12 years on the shelf.

Announcing the news through his Twitter account, frontman Chris Cornell directed eager clickers toward a band site where followers can sign up to receive updates. No other info is being offered, though news outlets like Rolling Stone and Billboard are filling paragraphs with delicious background info on the band’s illustrious career.

Though Ticketmaster has yet to add Soundgarden to their alert roster, that’s one place I’d go once they get themselves updated.

More info as it comes.

Forgot to ask Santa for sweet music gear this year? No worries. Guitar Player will deliver.

Eight incredibly lucky subscribers to the gear lover’s magazine can win one of eight very generous gift packages through the GP2 8×8 Giveaway — including eight giant amps, eight gleaming axes, and seven pedals (the acoustic package doesn’t need one) to drown your post X-mas blues.

All subscribers have to do is open the latest edition of the electronic rag, wait for the registration form to pop up, and sign up. Not subscribed? Well, doing that works too … and it’s free, by the way.

So let’s see, some nice reading material and the chance to score some shiny new hardware. I’m already signed up. Check out this info page for instructions to enter yourself, plus some interesting prizes for Twitterheads who follow Guitar Player on Twitter and re-tweet their promos. Contest ends at midnight on January 31. Happy reading…

The world is filled with aging rock icons and rock stars who live perilously close to the edge, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t wake up each day at least a smidge worried that one of them will keel over. Not that the ones on this list are the only ones I worry about — any rock star death would make me at least want to sit on my couch all day with my girlfriend, a Jack and Coke, and a tub of ice cream watching “Almost Famous” over and over … but there are a few special apples in the heap that would definitely make me lose it, and probably a lot of other people, too. Dammit, Michael Jackson came darn close.

Here are the ten aging/living-on-the-edge rockers whose deaths would make us lose it faster than our inheritance in Vegas. God forbid.

10. Ozzy Osbourne. This gentle, funny, formerly evil and insane rock legend has gone from being the definition of rock mayhem to the definition of man-cute. He’s also the king of comebacks – after all the crazy crap he’s pulled, his awesomeness wasn’t even diluted by an entire reality series about his annoying family (I think Jack and Kelly bore most of the fallout from that). He even manages to seem relatively cool in commercials about cell phones and oil-based butter spread, acting confused and shouting “I’m the prince of f**ing darkness” at the air. A world without Ozzy is a world with no rock and roll mentor. When he goes, bands will dissolve out of respect, the news will be flooded with man-made catastrophes and mass suicides, and kitties and doggies will weep.

9. Ringo Starr. “The goofy one” (who is presently “the posh goofy one”) seemed to have a definite air about him during his Beatles career. It was a sort of blind joviality, with the slight appearance of being confused over what was going on at any given time. It came through pretty strong in his vocals for tracks like “Octopus’s Garden” and “Yellow Submarine,” where he sounded like a musical version of someone’s dad. These days he’s enjoying cooldom with his designer shades, Don Johnson stubble and ever-present peace signs — but geez, look at any photo of him and it’s obvious that he’s still Ringo. The day there’s no more Ringo will be the day there are no more rodeo clowns, doctor’s office lollipops, corporate meeting donuts, or anything else that makes a serious situation more fun. Long live the goofy one.

8. Lemmy Kilmister. I spoke to Lemmy Kilmister over the phone for about half an hour during college, and if not for that conversation he might not be on this list. But some of the things he said were just so …  rock and roll. Did you know his first set of musical equipment was all stolen? He said so. Or that he gives specific instructions to his publicist never to bother him before noon? He was also quoted in Maxim as having slept with over 1,200 women, and he’s 63. Jesus Christ, this guy is about as rock star as they come, plus he sports mutton chops that would destroy a continent if their power were properly leveraged. His death would be the equivalent of Dr. Doom finally defeating The Thing, or every Hustler store burning down. It would be a loss to all masculinity everywhere, and I propose if it ever happens, every straight man should buy at least one gay porn mag in solemn acknowledgment of Lemmy’s eternally superior man skills.
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A few years ago I worked at an Internet company next to a tall, lanky English guy (I’ll call him “Fred”) who seemed to know a lot more about music than your average corporate Web hack. He had well-developed opinions on bands I’d heard of and ones I hadn’t, and introduced me to a couple of very interesting groups.

Come to find out after several months that he was actually part of a little-known cult band back in the ’80s, a jangle-pop band from London called the Siddeleys. Though they were short lived (seeming mostly to be active from 1986 to 1988), they managed to catch the eye of BBC broadcaster John Peel, who was impressed by front woman Johnny Johnson’s almost Morrissey-like delivery. Peel invited the band to record one of his famous Peel Sessions, which yielded, among others, the track “My Favourite Wet Wednesday Afternoon” — one of the best-sounding indie tracks I’ve heard in a while.

Though the song is a little redundant (it could use an instrumental bridge somewhere after the third chorus), lyrically it contains imagery very evocative of a wet, nostalgic London afternoon. Lines like “Love that moves the sun, heaven and all the stars / This is just a fraction of what is rightfully ours” and  “I’ll take my dream to the grave with me if you don’t say something soon” are perfect for such a velvety-smooth Britpop track. The harmonies will echo in your memory for days. Thanks, Fred.

(Album available on Amazon)

Dave Grohl. Josh Homme. John. Paul. Jones.

Allow me to spew mindless superlatives like a hyperactive little kid, but Them Crooked Vultures is probably going to be the most mind-bending, capillary-rupturing tsunami of awesomeness to pound the shores of the modern rock scene this decade. Wait, does that sound over the top? Good.

For those of you who hate living in sunlight, Dave Grohl is the accomplished (and slightly self-inflated, from what I hear) ex-drummer of Nirvana and current Foo Fighters champion, Homme is chief asskicker of Queens of the Stone Age and an all-around brilliant songwriter, and John Paul Jones is John Paul Jones. From Led Zeppelin. (Twitch, twitch. Puke.) Them Crooked Vultures is the supergroup they formed in 2005 (joined by live rhythm guitarist Alain Johannes of QOTSA). Their debut album is due out November 16 in the UK, and November 17 in the US, which probably means there are already pirated versions flying around hither and thither.

This is still OK, though, because the entire album is available right now through the band’s YouTube channel. Of course it’s sweet, from the killer drum opening and chomping guitar riff of “New Fang” to the simple jaw-busting power of “No One Loves Me & Neither Do I.” I suggest you void your bowels to make room for the sheer rock infusion that will ensue, grab the first copy you can get your hands on, and devour that ambrosia like it’s green beer on Saint Patty’s Day.

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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.
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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.