OK. Another truth with a smidge of selfloathing (but only a a tiny bit. It’s not really loathing if it’s rooted in truth, right?) – in general, I don’t trust lesbians to make music. I know. A big, bad, broad statement. And yes, you have many holes you can poke into this argument. But look, really look at your music catalog and see how many you can find that make radical, timeless, broadly appealing music. Yeah, it starts to thin out pretty quickly. Add in the constant cader of two bit acts that rely on estrogen anthems and a lilith fair of unshaven legs and you’ve got a crowded market of mediocrity. It doesn’t help that the “queer” market still supports this consistent underachieving (check out the music at a Pride festival, I dare you). All in all, I’ve been tough on the ladies because the ladies haven’t been tough enough on themselves. So it comes to utter surprise that there are a few hardworking gals out there (AND, again, the bay area is playing conduit to all this hard work) that are putting out some decent cuts. Granted, there best track, “Eleven”, takes heavily from the tUnE-yArDs playbook and most of their sound thereafter is pretty standard singer-songwriter fare (there’s that hyphen bearing word again..). Nevertheless, it’s a feat that they can bring such disparate styles together – Thao, rooted in rock and blues, scratchy voice and all; Mirah, all soft edges and introspection – with consistent quality. I think it helps that they seem to be equally comfortable taking the reigns of songwriting duty and differing to each other’s strengths. Most importantly, there is a noticeable lack in pandering lyrical content which is often the most aggravating aspect of queer musicianship. And maybe I’m giving them more credit than is due as I’m dragging their personal life to the forefront. But this album has already stood strong in my collection for over 6 months with no signs of let down.

Eccentricity. What’s not to love?! Sure, anyone can come up with a slightly off hand band name, push further into excess with an even odder presentation of the name, and then a crazy sound to boot. Take this for example. But few can pull this off with ease and grace. And subtlety. I know, not quite what one should expect from an album with “kill” in it. But there it is – choice, intention, space – saddling up to experimentation like they belong. And making a good show of it. Yes, I am spending way too much time to say that this will probably be one of my favorite records of the year. So kill me.

First, and this is a big first, I still struggle with how all of these sounds can come from 1) one person and 2) a woman. Nope, this isn’t a self loathing, sexist statement. Rather, an admission that my preconceived notions of possibility have been shattered by Merrill and her loops. That voice. What is it? Seriously, I had to watch videos of her live performances to prove that it was indeed her and not a dub of some male ’80s singer with an aggressive high range. I’ve never heard that timber from a female singer. Ever. Like never ever. It still takes me a few songs in to realize she covers all of the singing. It’s so…oddly familiar. And yet still disarming. Nevertheless, I like it. A lot. She uses her vocals to affect emotion and power better than most. Then the production takes over. In the same vein of Menomena, she takes her work personally. No need to collaborate when you already have a strong ear. Lots of attention placed on the arrangements – full, lively, and purposeful. Everything in balance without seeming over-thought. The added idiosyncratic touches (an extra blip here, cutting out the instruments to let her vocals wail for a bit, etc.) solidify the bedroom studio feel and endear you ever more. It all sounds so wild – uninhibited, driving, surprising. And replays well. Don’t look now, but I may actually be becoming a fan of Bay Area music. And maybe you will be too…

Love: Still Fighting
My newest (soon to be reviewed) music crushes, Thao & Mirah, do a rather convincing cover of Pat Benetar’s Love is a Battlefield right here in the Bay Area.  Peep the video. And listen to the rest of their recording session on The Bay Bridged.

Andre 3000 comes out of hiding for…Ke$ha????
‘fraid so.  Unbelievable. But true. And sadly, as much as I want to fuel the flames of Ke$ha’s general awfulness, Andre adds an instant level of validity to this track. What was once mind-numbing forgettable pop is now a succinct commentary on life’s realities as we age. And a kiss off to bougie friends.  Or whatever.  We R who we R after all.

Minaj really is best a trois
I already secretly liked “Till the World Ends”. It’s shameless, has a predictable build, and, by now, is a throwback to my youth.  Add in Nikki Minaj and it only gets better. It’s her year and once again she delivers, slowing down the tempo to add further insult to her already killer flow. Ke$ha mops up the sloppy seconds to round out this name dropping extravaganza.

Rooftop parties with Spike Jonze directing a collaboration between YoYo Ma and hip hop dancers? Please, God let this be true?! And it is.

Lil Buck looks down right ethereal. Matched with the cello, it’s hard not to watch again and again. So enjoy, multiple times. And please do invite me to the next one of these fundraising events. I will gladly eat your cheese tray.

The most striking feature of Wounded Rhymes is that it sounds complete from the first listen. It’s well produced, rich, and inviting. But has enough complexity and looseness to not lose it’s freshness on repeat. The album easily hearkens to the ’60s/’70s without taking on the task of becoming an homage. Fuzz, organs, harmonies, and reverb are all in ample proportion throughout. Lykke Li’s usually wistful delivery lands on the  meatier end of the spectrum, full of experience, pallor, and bite.  It’s a dangerous turn to take – leaving the levity of youth for age always feels like you can hang yourself on unnecessary weight. Here, Li avoids these traps by wrapping it all in driving rhythms and lyrical integrity. Nothing sounds too efforted or effortless. Everything in it’s right place really. And at 10 songs, she keeps you wanting more at the end. It’s a very ambitious line to take and I’m glad she took it. And I hope this sense of adventure continues well into the future.

Shut up, Dude starts with obvious hits “Who’s That? Brown!”, “You Oughta Know”  and “Pizza Hut”, and sets up a lengthy but skillful mixtape of old school nods and pop culture non sequitors. They meander from song to song with no point in sight. I applaud the “rhyme for rhyme sake” ethos, but it loses steam after  about 8 songs and becomes fairly repetitive (or at least bland). Nothing horrible, but the exceptional peaked early. Even if the songs are free, a well edited release still makes for a better listen than a grab bag of everything you’ve ever rhymed slung together. Sit Down, Man shows marked improvement for thematic structure and even some improvement in the production. Less hook laden than the former, but much more satisfying. Which gives me hope that the joke is not on me for actually liking these guys. They are a train wreck in every show – purposefully – bouncing between being enamored with tricking the world into believing that they are real MCs and being bored by rehashing each song on a nightly basis. And for that, shame on me for even trying to support this mess: if they don’t want to take themselves somewhat seriously, why should I? But it IS refreshing to get references to Maya Angelou’s bubble butt (again, try not to giggle) and hearing a reinterpretation of the Days of Our Lives theme.

If you can handle the obsession with pop culture, literati references and an absolute lack of editing, give these guys a shot. I am. And probably will until the next ivy league educated rap group comes around.

Day 3 – I had initial hopes of seeing many more bands. It was a bust. Sort of. There was one BIG show I did get to see that kind of made up for the entire week. And pretty much solidified my inevitable return to SXSW.

Who Did I See
The Dodos
Kanye West!

Sometimes you just need to concentrate your efforts to get the best possible reward. Super concentrated efforts. Like 4 hours waiting concentration. I’ll skip the pithy quips and get to the Kanye business

The Good
I got in! I waited, I struggled, I ordered dinner while waiting and struggling in line. It was epic. But ultimately worth the wait. The show was well produced (sometimes to a flaw) but everything you would want. A little more. The whole G.O.O.D family was well represented and on form. The setting was astounding – an old power plant turned into cavernous music hall. Everything was all dolled up and ready for the prom. And a promenade it was. Almost a variety review from each performer called up from the record label stables. True, the performance was dictated by the videotaping thus there was a lot of playing to camera. But the audience was fully a part of the master plan as I was drawn in each performer’s aesthetic. I actually found most of the up and coming artist performances quite engaging which is hard to do with 8 artists (and after waiting for 5 hours). Well done on a surprise showcase and 3.5 hour long hip hop experience.

The Less Good
I’ve stated it many a times – Kanye West is not a great rapper. This show solidified that statement. His attention to detail overwhelmed the overal spirit of fun and spontanaiety that normally is on display at a hip hop show. When things get tough, must rappers get tougher. However, when things got tough for Kanye, he got angry and stormed off like a 5 year old. Some took this as his “primadonna tendencies”. I saw it as unprofessional and just not fun. Furthermore, for the parts of the performance he could control – namely remembering the lyrics to his songs – he didn’t always meet the goal. When you are staring at Jay Z hoping “Swagger Like Us” will come back to you, I have a hard time believing you ever had swagger. Jay Z, however, gained my respect – the consummate showman that knows how to work a crowd. In spite of all that Kanye has achieved, he still has much more to learn.

If you need proof of this insanity, peep the pics. In order of appearances from the G.O.O.D music family:

From left: Mr. Hudson, John Legend, Kanye, Mos Def, Kid Cudi, some girl not wearing a shirt, Prynce Cyhi, Big Sean, Jay Z

Mos Def full on

Mos Def profile

Pusha T

Big Sean

Prynce Cyhi rippin it

Prynce Cyhi hands in the air

Mr. Hudson: You know Jay Z's song "Forever Young"? That's me!

Fonsworth Bentley: Why am I here?

Cudi, I still don't buy your emo stuff. But you showed up.

Bon Iver and crazy girl with no shirt

Kanye Intro Appearance

Mad Max Yeezy

G.O.O.D. Friday mix - John Legend, Cudi, Kanye, and Pusha T

Blame Game with John Legend

Ubiquitous in crowd shot

Kanye is his favorite Runaway suit

All of the Lights featuring local high school marching band. How nice!

Stoic All of the Lights

'Ye and Jay go H.A.M

Still H.A.Ming it up

'Ye and Jay as Monsters - triumphant

Who Did I See
Diamond Rings (1 song , but that was enough)
Doomtree
Das Racist
The Cults
James Blake
tUne yArDs
Matt & Kim (ne Odd Future in the background…)
Who Made Who
The Chain Gang of 1974
French Horn Rebellion
Miami Horrors
Flosstradamus

I know. It WAS a lot. It felt like a lot. And there were definitely highlights (and lowlights) to the day.

The Good
Even though it was merely a brief interlude – I was walking with pace, head down, determined to see Das Racist before the inevitable crowds and lines. No thought of any other band was even registering and along comes this tender yet driving melody – Diamond Rings left me with a mighty positive impression. I came for his last song. I left with a giant grin. Doomtree was equally as impressive. Again, I am reminded of how blatantly good (and overlooked) the Minneapolis rap scene is. A group of MCs with different flows, equally talented, and terribly good live. And who knew POS has turned from Atmospheric pupil to de facto crowd pleaser. Needless to say, I hold extreme jealousy for my MSP friends who get this level of excellence on a more timely basis.

Yep, Doomtree even has a fresh lady who spits hot fire

James Blake. Lots of buzz. Super huge and sweaty crowd. Worth it? Sort of. He does sound good. And it’s a sound I want to hear. But not well suited for this type of festival. Still, he’s patient and thoughtful with his sound. Nice to see in a lad of 21. On the flip side – metaphorically and physically as I literally walked 200 feet to the next show – tUne yArDs relished the size and well stage of the outdoor venue. Fists clutching drum sticks, mouth wide in full on yell, she stood proudly owning her sound and the audience. I want more! And more I got with Matt & Kim. Energy at it’s most raw form. Giddy pleasure for a roaring 35 minutes. Balloons! Crowdsurf-dancing! Guest appearance from Erykah Badu (on tambourine)! Exuberance never goes out of style.

The run-up to Flosstradamus produced a few outstanding moments – WhoMadeWho kicked off the party. Scandanavian dance pop, my achilles heel. The French Horn Rebellion furthered the eclectro pop brilliance – with an actual French horn. Somewhat ironic, actually quite helpful. And finally, Flossy. Flosstradamus killed, as expected, in spite of a reduced (read: ignorant) crowd. It helped that I met both Curt and Josh and now we are best friend.

The Less Good
Das Racist – not really bad, but their reliance on staying high while performing did not instill my confidence in their long term viability. See for yourself – the blurred images are the product of performance rather than my unsteady hand.

The Chain Gang of 1974 also left me wanting. A lot. They spent more of their time on the sound check than on actually playing.I do recognize that the world was conspiring against them – a mic that was broken, a power outage midway through – but the songs were a lackluster impression of an indie rock band trying to make pop like music that “matters”.

Counter to the sentiment of the crowd, Miami Horrors was a picture of a TV ready dance rock band as opposed to an actual good band. To quote my friend Raoul, it was a band full of Gavin Rossdale’s – lots of look and very little substance. They were loud, so I guess that’s cool. They had synthesizers and you know that is always awesome. But there was little else that added anything unique for their sound. But when you’re Gavin Rossdale, do you need substance?

I’m starting to get the hang of this festival, so more to come on Day 3.

Who I saw
Andrew Bealle
Fitz and the Tantrums (short set)
The Cool Kids (plus some other opening hip hop)
Foster the People
Noah and the Whale
Portugal, the Man
Charles Bradley
TV on the Radio – yep, tis true. See proof below.

The Good
Well, for starters, I saw a lot of bands I didn’t know. Which is the whole point, right? Seeing Fitz & the Tantrums in a hyper intimate setting (all 15 of us were dialed in) was a great way to start of the festival.

Fitz and the Tantrums @ Sessions

In the leadup to TVOTR, two openers stood out – Portugal, the Man and Charles Bradley. Portugal, while maintaining efforted cool by having the lead singer confine himself under a hooded jacket (It’s 80 degrees out and clear. Neither hood nor jacket were necessary.) let loose a rampage of psychedelic rock that somehow stayed focused in the pursuit of blowing your mind. Counter to the rock lambast was the soul revival stylings of Charles Bradley. Now, you really can’t go wrong when your backing band is constructed primarily from the Dap Kings. And Charles paid heed, letting the band lay solid funk underpinnings to his James Brown-esque wail of a voice. To cap it off, Charles sent us so much love, it was hard not to have a genuine smile on your face by the end of his set.

The Less Good
I guess The Cool Kids have a two viewing shelf life. I saw them twice in London – fantastic. Lots of energy, gritty bass lines, general enthusiasm for music.  Fast forward 4 years and the party is over. Less swagger, more  entitlement. All in all, they looked like they weren’t having any fun. Well, if you can’t be bothered with fun, neither can I.
The other let down – TV on the Radio. Ok, hear me out (yes, this is a subtle directing of this post to Diana once again. Others, bear with me). Rather, I beg of you to consider the following: I tried so hard to like them. Remember when I tried here. It was so earnest I even listened to the old album to see what I missed. And even now I persist in trying to understand. So much so that I pushed, clawed, kicked, and evil-eyed my way to a front row spot for these guys. Take a gander.

Even Beyonce's Halo won't make this any better

The full band, still they gets no love

After all that work, what did I learn? 1) TVOTR has only one speed live – fast. All of their songs were played at hyperspeed for maximal rocking out. To the detriment of any subtlety in sound or lyrics. All fast and loud all the time. 2) They have no sonic diversity. I believe I started to notice this on the albums – live only furthered this point. I was left with the undeniable conclusion that this band is no where near as good as we all want them to be. Frankly, they are very simple. Straight forward at what they present and comfortable staying in that prism. I’m still shocked that the live concert wouldn’t have converted me, but alas it is all too true. This is not to deny them of their intensity of purpose, rather to call them out for what they truly are – a decent rock band. No more, no less.

Now the great task is next – to put all of this aside and move forward to tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Nostalghia is bent on proving that they are a serious band making serious music. The 10 tracks that comprise I am Robot form a distinctive electronic voice – highly produced, a touch dramatic, and sometimes fraught with tension. And while the production is quality, it seems to be too much too often. There is a lot going on in each song. And it’s not all extraneous. But instead of being expansive, it feels bogged down by trying to be “important”. I found myself often repeating “lighten up”! All of the added clicks,hisses, drums, squeals, piano tinkers, accordions, etc. all made for a heavy landscape of sound. This combined with Ciscandra Nostalghia’s voice provided a heavy handed solution to their artistic vision.

Let’s take a moment now to discuss that voice – her voice switches from the stark, accented singing mastered by Fever Ray/The Knife with a somewhat more baudy, lush burlesquey tamber. It’s an odd combination. I often wished Ciscandra would pick one and stick with it. And hopefully not the one that tends to go towards the shallow, “baby-talk” element that creeps in. It felt put on and insincere. I do think she has an instrument to work with, I just wish it wasn’t so overworked.

As a debut, I Am Robot will easily find supporters in the landscape of female driven electronic soundscape art. I think this group has plenty of room to grow, but have a lot of growing to do.