This low, bellowing voice was the greeting of a big bald dude in the middle of a wrestling ring with “Hallowicked” painted on the side of it. The packed hive of demented clown people cheered back. If my 5 hour perspective on Detroit is accurate (and I’m hoping it’s not), the population of Detroit is distributed roughly: 0.5 parts hipster; 3 parts panhandler; and 1209812091724019842 parts Juggalo.

I’ve never played a show with a paper thin wall separating me from an Insane Clown Posse after party on Halloween (complete with wrestling ring and disembodied fake body parts everywhere). Here’s hoping it never happens again.

The house manager let us go into the ICP party to take a look at the clown spectacle. The Juggalos and “‘Lets” (i.e., female Juggalos) milled about, some with blank stares on their faces, mouths hanging open, some with cracked-out swift and unpredictable movements.

Clyde Petersen, Thao’s tour manager, seems to be collecting the oddest collection of footage from this tour, including an interview with one of the workers at the ICP after party where the poor bartender says in a slow, serious, drawling voice: “I’m not racist, but if I was to choose a race that was the scum of the earth, that race would be juggalos…if there was ever a group of people who deserved more to be despised and knew they needed to be despised, I haven’t seen it.”

What a rich, philosophical musing.

David Shultz conveyed his most memorable moment in the evening as “when I saw a guy get stabbed repeatedly in the head with a wooden spike in the wrestling ring and he was bleeding everywhere…it was chilling.”

And his favorite thing I think we all shared. The performance space we were in had windows to the outside world, and so outside, all night Clyde was videotaping the Juggalos walking by. I couldn’t even concentrate on playing because of the parade outside all night. Justin Power was actually getting them to pose for his pictures.

It was a unique Halloween. I’ll let some of Justin Power’s pictures continue to tell the story. (He’s playing with us through Richmond). Justin was the only one brave enough to go up to the Juggalos and ask them to pose for him to get pictures.

Anna described the experience as being under siege. Anna has no cell phone, so she looks for payphones to call loved ones whenever she can, and while at a payphone on the streets of Detroit says she felt like she couldn’t describe the scene around her outside to her friends (to convey her terror) because there we so many Juggalos milling about.

I don’t really know how to convey this experience to people back home either. I had mentioned it to my fiancée, who was having her own Halloween party back home. We talked the next morning and the first thing she said on the phone to me was, “how were the gigolos?”

Scarier than American Gigolo Richard Gere, I wanted to say. (Though only marginally scarier.)

I tried to make ICP/PCP jokes from the stage and they didn’t go over all that well. (Why I thought people would cheer ironically when I asked ironically “Are you down with the clown Detroit?!?” I don’t know. When I asked the crowd my question, everyone was completely silent, leaving us to meditate on the bass frequencies pounding through the wall. In sympathy, Thao, right up front, raised her hand politely. (Thao is politely down with the clown.)

Thao’s been full of gems in her audience interaction on these Midwest dates. In Minnesota—MINNESOTA—she offhandedly, accidentally took a jab at Garrison Keillor. The audience was clapping along with her music (she’s good at getting them to do that), and there was a piano on stage, and the room had a big Midwestern meeting hall look to it, and after one song she said it kind of felt like Prairie Home Companion. And then without pause or filter went on to describing in detail how much his annoying voice grates on her and Adam, even though Willis likes him.

The audience revolted almost immediately! She had no idea how big of a problem it is to make fun of Garrison Keillor in Minnesota! At the encore she came out and apologized and insisted she was just kidding! It was completely charming and funny, and I think the audience took it that way. But the immediate reaction was like, “you don’t like Garrison? Then why are you in Minneapolis!?!”

From Minneapolis to Chicago we had Sarah Young of Cloud Cult joining us on cello, which was great! She’s a blast to play with—and super nice! We’ve been brainstorming what to send her to thank her (and her family for letting her join us for so many days) when we get back to Oregon. We’re back down to a quartet now until New York, where Allegra, one of the cellists who first started the group back in Portland will be joining us.

The HEY YA competition

Our contest to rate every city on their ability to sing to “Hey Ya!” Is now formal, and all scores are being posted to our website under the Hey Ya CONTEST Tab on the mainpage:

Adam Thompson from the Get Down Stay Down has been judging everyone on the Pitchfork scale, which he has described as “Fair and honest” and also “Like a random number generator in my head.” To see how your favorite cities are doing, do check out the website.

Chicago:

The Empty Bottle is a sweeet bar in a sweeet part of town. The venue is packed with rowdy drunk people, so we do a very high energy set—lots of Pantera, Britney Spears and De Falla. (The Metal, The Pop and The Spanish Classical. I’m convinced that’s the 1, 2, 3 combination for classical ensembles in drunken bar settings.)

This is where our “Hey Ya!” contest gets a little out of hand. I get the audience chanting for Willis and Adam to come to the stage: “Will-Is, Will-Is, Will-Is!” And Adam goes no-holds-barred against the Chicago crowd on the judging. Maybe because Pitchfork is in Chicago, maybe because really the crowd only sang well on the first chorus and could have done better later on, and maybe because he’s trying to convince them at the same time that if they buy him drinks later in the evening he’ll raise their score, he gives them a harsh, harsh 4.8.

Milwaukee

Milwaukee was sweet. Our show was at Turner Hall. Neither Thao nor PCP has played Milwaukee before, and the hall seems really too big. It’s the second night in a row with full catered meals. The room filled up, but there was a drunk dude up front talking to both PCP and Thao all night. (“Tell a Joke!!” “Shake it!”) Thao has actually made fun of him on stage every night since.

The sound people in Milwaukee, though, seemed like they were about to come to blows every ten seconds. I’m not sure if that’s just how they interact, or if they genuinely hate each other’s guts.

I told the light guy what I always tell the light guy: “feel free to go absolutely crazy with the lights – don’t hold back.”

And he responded: “You asshole, don’t you know I’m supposed to be the sound engineer? The manager just switched me to lights at the last minute. I’m really bad at lights, so you know what I’m going to do? I’m just going to do some fades. I’m supposed to be the sound engineer…” and then proceeded to take his anger on out on the actual FOH engineer.

And I was like… “I just wanted to… make your job fun…I’m sorry…”

So I hired Alicia – Thao’s engineer – to do our sound for the night. I had to again in Detroit and Chicago. What’s with these cities? Can they not hire a sane sound person? That’s really all we need. Alicia’s been a lifesaver, going above and beyond to help out. We’re full of gratitude to her for saving us on a couple of occasions now.

And this tour is slowly morphing into the one we knew it would where we’re all playing on each other’s sets. Willis and Adam are on stage with us often. Justin Power and Sami and Willis and Adam are all going up with David Shultz—the super fun opener on the tour—now. And I’m on stage for all of Thao’s set, and Sami and Anna bring their cellos up usually for the closer of the night.

I’ll write on Wild and Rocking Windsor, Toronto and Montreal in a bit.

Links:
Portland Cello ProjectSpace
ThaoSpace
Juggalo News

Juggalo photos by Justin Power, Milwaukee photo by Kathryn Jenkins

Related posts:

1. Portland Cello Project: The Not Green Room Green Room (Seattle and Spokane, WA & Vancouver, BC) Seattle I
2. Portland Cello Project: Band Vs. Tour Santa Cruz
3. Portland Cello Project: This Band is Like Oceans 11 (Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, CA) A brief no

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Uncontrollable Urge – “Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah YEAH!” Thus begins this clarion call of repetitious punk energy. Lead singer Mark Mothersbaugh can’t contain his enthusiasm. He just wants to “scream and shout.”

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction – The best cover tune of all time. DEVO gives this burnt nugget back its bite, turning it into an inverted diatribe against commercial excess that sounds like its being played backward. [Bonus points to Church of Subgenius’ Reverend Ivan Stang for directing the video which features mascot Booji Boy sticking a fork into a toaster.]

Praying Hands – Here’s where the concept really starts to unfold. The vocal banter is full of ennui as it implores the listener to “roll over, play dead, get spiritual minded.” “Go into doggie submission,” says Mark. Succumb to de-evolution.

Space Junk – The first of many love songs from DEVO. Hell, even “Whip It” is loaded with innuendo. In this tragedy, lovers around the globe are killed by falling debris. Environmental/futurism had never rollicked before.

Mongoloid – A ballad to mutation; the most sympathetic pinhead portrait ever penned.

Jocko Homo – A throwback to DEVO’s Kent State art school days, this revamped version is the first and final word on De-evolution. Who knew we were really grown from snails? When men with colored pantyhose on their heads sing to you from inside giant yellow condoms, you know shit is getting heavy and the truth is out there.

Too Much Paranoias – Recycled fast food ad copy filtered through a psychosis of synths.

Gut Feeling/Slap Your Mammy – The longest song on the album is really a twofer. Four minutes of broken heart segues perfectly into a minute of matricide.

Come Back Jonee – Even as DEVO stares at the 21st century from the seedy ’70s, its radioactive reach extends back to Chuck Berry’s Jonee B and throttles him Good.

Sloppy (I Saw My Baby Gettin) – “Sloppy” sits firmly in the boneyard, but it doesn’t miss the boat. It falls and gets up as many times as a drunken party buffoon.

Shrivel Up – The eeriest and most unnerving track, with a nearly wordless chorus that is so epic it had to be the last song. “You’re dying under daddy’s cap”—what does this even mean? If you like this one, you’re in luck: it perfectly presages the vibe of DEVO’s second and most underrated album Duty Now For the Future. Odds are better than good that tunes from the sophomore effort will round out this concert and make aging nerds (like me), very, very happy.

DEVO also performs its most famous album, Freedom of Choice on Monday, 11/9.

Link:
DevoSpace!

Related posts:

1. Grey Anne: Somewhere in Seattle, Between Heaven and Hell (Seattle, WA) Show numbe
2. Ramona Falls’ (Brent Knopf of Menomena) Album Art Totally Rules You’
3. Congratulations / Old Believers: Structured Calisthenics and a Doorman’s Wisdom (Seattle, WA) Tour Diary

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Kipp was, and wherever he is now, an extraordinary person. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body and most of his friends will agree that he was one of the most gentle and diplomatic dudes around. He was very thoughtful and methodical and never felt the urge to push his agenda on anyone, but would be there in a heartbeat if you needed someone to talk to or to lean on, then he would open up his mind and just listen and answer what ever questions you had openly and honestly. He seemed to be able to see life from many perspectives. Usually after say, noon, you could pretty much count on seeing a smile on his face. Before that, he liked to take it slow, warm up to coffee, quietude, maybe a book. He loved nature, the outdoors, and was never caught up in any hipster bullshit in the music scene or any other. He was funny, passionate, and a hell of a bad ass on the drums, very innovative, musical and creative. He is irreplaceable. He’s probably sitting in with the Angel Band as we speak….

Martin adds that Celilo will play its Nov. 21 show at Mississippi Studios—partilally without a drummer and partially with Matt “The Don of Division St.” Cadanelli. “The show must go on,” he says, adding that a tribute to Crawford is forthcoming.

ORIGINAL POST:

Portland has been sick since yesterday morning upon hearing that a cyclist was struck and killed in North Portland. We’re even more sick now that we’ve heard that the cyclist was Kipp Crawford, drummer for fine local Americana/rock band Celilo, electro-jazz outfit the Fractal Quintet and rock band (which I’ve only just discovered, but they’ve got some pretty great songs) Thanks Kipp. Our hearts go out to Kipp’s family, friends and his band members in what must be an incredibly tough time.

There’s a lot of blabber about the politics of bicycles and cars on the KATU page about the accident. There’s also still a lot of mystery about how the accident happened. There’s a time and place for both discussions, but I’d appreciate it if people could keep our conversation civil and respectful. If you’d like to pay your respects, the comment section is open for that.

Lewi Longmire and friends (playing as the retooled NW Country-Rock Allstars) will be hosting a jam at LaurelThirst tonight as a tribute to Crawford, who played the venue often with Celilo.

Let’s watch Celilo’s Penny Jam video again.

Celilo at Ken Tomita’s Woodshop from The Penny Jam on Vimeo.

Links:
WW’s review of Celilo’s latest, Bending Mirrors.

Photo courtesy of Thanks Kipp’s MySpace page (linked above).

Related posts:

1. Celilo Visits the Woodshop on New Penny Jam It might n
2. Celilo, Bending Mirrors (self-released) [ALT-COUNT
3. AU Announce New EP (Updated with Tracklist) On AU

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Club Akab—Rome, Italy 11.03.09

I had forgotten how good it feels to smoke a cigarette in a club. These Romans are used to it and I envy them. They’re over-dressed, wearing $500 spectacles and looking healthier than ever.

Acting Italian before they even arrive, Glass Candy is running a bit late. The dinner hour extends into the double-digits here, even on a dreary fall Tuesday. I arrive at 11 expecting to be greeted by the magnetic trance of openers Desire, but I’m met by two bouncers and the following loosely translated line: “Yeah, there’s a guest list, but we won’t even look at it until 11:30 or so.”

Jump ahead an hour. Club Akab’s dingy exterior gives way to a sparse but polished interior. Neon lights provide the little illumination around and the layout is a bit like Berbati’s. Two bartenders man the watering hole, one collecting strange green drink tickets, the other pouring Pilsner from a Peroni tap.

The crowd grows steadily during Desire’s speedy set. Glass Candy’s Johnny Jewel is at the electronic helm, testing the venue’s electrical grid with heavy-handed synthesizer bass lines and a laser battle’s worth of effects. A human-activated drum kit adds some muscle, though the softness of the vocals keep Desire somewhat cagy. I wait for a one-liner about the fitting record label the two bands share (Italians Do It Better), but to no avail. People are contemplating a dance move or two, but such actions are still only thoughts.

And then Glass Candy arrives. While Johnny tinkers with the keys to the tune of the house music blaring in the background, vocalist Ida No goes through an extensive series of stretches. Like athletes before a game, the two appear to be submitting to ritual. The crowd has found their Italian heroine in the form No, her long black hair and nonchalance settling in naturally.

Pouring out the hits, the once Portland band plays a vibrant set smartly catered to Europe’s love of dance and disco. The crowd is small and cramped, perfect subjects for a round of punches in the form of “Rolling Down The Hills”—the band’s party starting, horn adoring track – and “Geto Boys,” their crackly, swinging number full of universal hoots and hollers, perfect for cracking the language barrier.

During the always uplifting “Candy Castle,” I can’t help but shadowbox. It’s the soundtrack to the last level of your favorite childhood video game in which you’re pitted against the baddest boss 16 bits of graphics can create. By “Beat’s Alive,” their fuzzy, spacey jam that showcases No’s tender, encouraging, kid-like vocals, the Romans are looking for places to set their drinks. A rousing version of “Animal Imagination,” with its disco percussion and steady build unofficially brings the house down.

It becomes official seconds later when the club’s power shorts for the third time in as many songs. Johnny holds up his arms and shrugs as Ida prances laterally on stage to create a distraction. Like the confused Germans who walked out just as fast as they walked in to the club before the music even started, I think the people at Akab had no idea what to expect, what to prep for.

When Glass Candy comes to a town near you, conserve electricity. They need it more than you do. And you need them more than anything.

Photos by Mark Stock

Related posts:

1. Mark Stock’s Coachella, Part Two: Glass Candy You have j
2. Live Review: Fleshtone at Backspace, Thursday, Nov. 6 Dressed t
3. Live Review: Al Green, Friday, August 28 @ Edgefield Anticipati

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

That looks to change on February 2. That’s when Pierced Arrows are set to release their second album—the awesomely titled Descending Shadows—on Vice Records. Recorded at Portland’s Buzz or Howl Studios with the help of Stan Wright (who also recently did the rad Welcome Home Walker 7-inch), the set is described by Fred as “rock ‘n’ roll that’s rough, ragged, and honest.” Sounds good to me. You can hear one new track, the cryptic slow-build “Paranoia,” at the Vice Records site. It sounds great, and Vice Records’ garage centric lineup seems like a good fit for the band. 2010 couldn’t come soon enough.

Full press release deets:

Pierced Arrows, the Portland-based trio comprised of legendary members Fred and Toody Cole of the seminal punk band Dead Moon have announced their signing to VICE Records for the release of their sophomore LP Descending Shadows on February 2nd.

Descending Shadows expands on their fervently rough signature sound, recorded at Portland’s Buzz or Howl Studios and mastered to vinyl lacquer per tradition at Fred and Toody’s home. Promising to herald a new generation of fans steeped in the progeny which Dead Moon influenced, Descending Shadows will provide longtime followers of the Cole’s work with a new vital installment of what Fred once described as “rock’n'roll that’s rough, ragged, and honest”, a sincere answer to the void of emotion lacking in today’s era.

During their defiant career, Dead Moon released a staggering 16 albums. Many of which were engineered and mastered direct to vinyl lacquers by Fred Cole on his 40-year old home lathe, the likes of which being infamous for cutting the original version of The Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie”. Since the late 1960s Fred and Toody also ran seminal music equipment stores and their own general store in their hometown of Clackamas, OR (Freedom Guitar, Captain Whizeagles, Tombstone Music), well known for outfitting generations of Portland musicians. Influencing many garage punk bands, Dead Moon are cited as a vital inspiration for the DIY movement, Dead Moon in part spawned an international phenomenon of focus on the Pacific Northwest music scene throughout the 90’s.

Following the disbandment of Dead Moon in 2006, Fred and Toody continued their endeavors, eventually tapping veteran Portland-based Kelly Halliburton (Severed Head of State, Defiance) to play drums for their next incarnation as Pierced Arrows. Coincidentally, Kelly’s father happened to play with Fred in his first band Albatross in 1972. In line with Fred and Toody’s ethical and cultural ideals, Kelly’s role in the band was set. Their debut LP Straight To The Heart in was released in 2008 on Tombstone Records, echoing the raw murky blues and country influence of Dead Moon as well as their first punk incarnation in the early 1980s as The Rats, the veterans (now in their 50’s) continued their tradition of powerful raucous live performances, touring heavily through the US and Europe for legions of Dead Moon fans eager to revisit the band’s new direction.

Links:
Pierced ArrowSpace
Vice Records

Photo of Fred, Toody and the Dead Moon coffin by Hans Kesteloo

Related posts:

1. Attend Free Vice TV Taping At Bagdad Theater: Interviews With Pierced Arrows, Stephen Malkmus Not sure h
2. Slabtown Hosts PDX Record Label Flea Market Having tro
3. 2009 PDX Pop Now! Report, Day 2: No Vex (Updated) Oh man, wh

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

IMAGE: Jason Quigley

For a band that’s frequently associated with all things geeky, Jesse and Emily Laney’s North Portland house hardly resembles an ode to Dungeons Dragons. Despite the odd thrift store gnome or tchotchke—and the Darth Vader helmet resting on a keyboard in the front room—it’s relatively tame for a group like World’s Greatest Ghosts, one that sings about evil monsters, magic potions and secret elixirs. Not until you walk down the basement steps to the band’s practice space, lined with concert posters of friends’ bands and K Records staples, does one realize that the house is more of a temple to the synth-rock quintet’s real unabashed obsession: playing live music.

In fact, sitting around a table at NoPo dive the Florida Room, it’s hard to get through a conversation without delving into a discussion of favorite shows and albums. “Have you heard the new Built to Spill yet?” guitarist Casey Laney interrupts. “The first track is one of the best album openers in years.” His brother Jesse quickly jumps in: “I was just going to say the same thing!”

Finishing each others’ sentences is nothing new for World’s Greatest Ghosts. Until recently, the four core members of the band—Casey and his brother Jesse, who sings and plays keyboards, Jesse’s wife and bassist Emily, and guitarist Brandon Anderson—all lived in the same house. It’s that closeness and familial bond that led to frequent arguments, laughs and missteps that inform its debut album, No Magic. Recorded by local producer Skyler Norwood—whose previous credits include work for Blind Pilot, Horse Feathers, and Talkdemonic besides moonlighting in Point Juncture, WA—No Magic is one of the best-sounding and -sequenced local efforts in years. From the opening “Phantastes,” a ringing, anthemic pop song with dual-guitars slithering like a snake trying to make its way out of a labyrinth, to the infectious singalong “On the Shore,” it’s an album that isn’t afraid to shake a leg and have some fun amid the turmoil.

“We don’t always love each other,” Jesse admits. “We’re all family and friends that have gone way back, but we still fight. I think it’s better to be a real band that has problems but still has so much fun than [one] who paints a pretty picture all the time but secretly hates each other.”

The Laneys moved to Portland in 2006 from outside Nashville, Tenn., on recommendation of a few friends and a desire to move away from any scene that emphasizes anything other than the music. Though Jesse jokes it’s actually because of his disdain for the South (“summers there are filled with humidity, ticks and assholes”), the brothers’ upbringing was surrounded by music: Dad Alan Laney is a well-known country and bluegrass songwriter. Still, Nashville and also New Orleans—where Jesse and Emily briefly lived before Hurricane Katrina—lacked anything resembling the Portland underground house show circuit that helped birth the current band.

For most of its first three years in existence, WGG rarely played a show in a traditional venue, instead hitting up almost every basement, living room and arcade in the city. “It was such an incredible experience,” Casey says. “Playing with punk bands and alongside really avant-garde people was rad. I mean, we’re a pop band, and to be submerged in that kind of scene really imparted a lot of good things on us.” Those wide-ranging influences are heard on No Magic, which jumps from synthensizer-led rave-ups (“Magick Words”) to songs like “Loudest Speaker,” the album’s closest thing to a ballad and only moment in its 33-minute run time where things slow down enough for you to catch your breath.

Following the mastering of the record in the spring, World’s Greatest Ghosts also had to pause for a second: Drummer John Damiani decided to move to Oklahoma City for grad school, and label Lucky Madison pushed the release of No Magic back to the fall. New time-keeper Eric Ambrosius was actually in attendance at Damiani’s last show with the band, a Tender Loving Empire showcase in June, and after just two months has already integrated himself into the World’s Greatest Ghosts family.

“We’re excited to record with him and see what happens when we don’t all live together,” Casey says. “It could be a disaster, but at least at the end of the day we’ll still be friends.”

SEE IT: World’s Greatest Ghosts release No Magic on Wednesday, Nov. 4, at Holocene with Swim Swam Swum and Wampire. 8:30 pm. $6. 21+.

Related posts:

1. These Are The Days: Here to Fall On this A
2. World’s Greatest Ghosts, “Phantastes,” No Magic (Lucky Madison) It all sta
3. World’s Greatest Ghosts Tape Penny Jam, Prep Debut Record I said it

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

[POWER POP] I used to laugh at John Cougar when he sang, “Ooh yeah, life goes on/ Long after the thrill of living is gone” in “Jack and Diane.” But now that I’ve got some gray hairs and a pot belly, that sentimental piece of clap-along pop seems like a much more vulgar joke.

Boat’s 30-year-old frontman, David Crane, packages his coming-of-age nihilism in just as appealing a pop sheen as Cougar (who was 31 when “Jack and Diane” came out). “You can declaw all of your pets,” Crane sings in his wobbly, cartoon voice to start Boat’s new record, Setting the Paces. “But your new black sofa will still be a mess.” The knee-jerk reaction here is to giggle at the couplet, despite its sly critique of suburban futility. Crane would prefer you don’t laugh. “I’m not joking,” he sings. “I’m feeling real seriously.”

A lot of people have mistaken Seattle’s Boat for a joke-rock band. Perhaps Crane’s plain-spoken lyrical style and hand-drawn album illustrations—not to mention his charmingly incompetent falsetto and Boat’s bouncy stage persona—don’t help combat the notion. But for all its clever, Malkmus-esque one-liners, Setting the Paces is a bit of a heartbreaker. It’s a diatribe against the aging process, a foe that can’t possibly be beaten. “Everyone I know who is my age is not real excited about hitting 30,” Crane writes via email. Not that it’s all bad. “I bought a house, got a new teaching job, moved to a new town [Tacoma]…I guess I am really happy.”

But in his lyrics, it’s clear Crane wants it both ways—­to have the freedom of growing up without all the boring responsibility. It’s a worldview that comes in part from his job as a teacher. “I think that I often view things through the same lens as a middle schooler,” he says. “I am still nervous about who to hang out with at meals [and] break times, I still try to get away with cutting corners on big assignments. I daydream and draw pictures when I should be taking notes.” That escapism is addressed on Boat’s pop-punk opus “Interstate 5.” “Sippin’ diet cola, eating with my family/ Sleeping in pajamas way too small for me/ I didn’t ask for this, man you gotta help me out,” Crane sings, finding himself on the fast track to adulthood. Boat tours come in handy. “Interstate 5, come on, take me out of this mess,” Crane sings. Distortion bubbles up, barely hiding the sound of a soda can popping open.

Whether Boat likes it or not, Setting the Paces showcases an incredible amount of growth on the band’s behalf. Where the band’s previous discs—2006’s Songs That You Might Not Like and 2007’s Let’s Drag Our Feet—felt uneven, Setting the Paces plays beautifully from front to back. It actually manages to be more thoughtful and fun than either of the band’s solid previous releases, with earnest singalong jams like “Lately” and “Reverie” standing out as some of the finest pop tunes to come around this year.

Late in the disc, Crane has made great strides in coping with adulthood’s encroachment, realizing he doesn’t need to return to his childhood, he just needs a break every once in a while, singing, “In the apple tree behind my old house/ Was a little place where I would hide out/ Looking for a new place now that it’s gone/ One that I can go to whenever I want.” Sometimes you find profundity in strange of places—“Jack and Diane,” or even a Boat song called “(Do the) Magic Centipede.”

SEE IT: Boat plays Thursday, Nov. 5, at the Woods with Brothers Young. 9 pm. $7. 21+.

Related posts:

1. Neal Morgan, “Birch Bark Boat in Space,” To The Breathing World (Self-released) The cut of
2. Ah Holly Fam’ly Thursday, Oct. 15 A Portland
3. The Taxpayers, Thursday, Jan. 22 Portland p

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Loch Lomond Night Bats

(Hush)

[FABLES OF THE RECONSTRUCTION] If local chamber-folk outfit Loch Lomond can be accused of anything, it’s being too nice. The band’s songs, which take singer Ritchie Young’s quivering voice—one that often switches from a deep register to an androgynous falsetto in the same verse—and surround it with layers of baroque instrumentation, have always been pretty. Direct? Not so much. That is, until you hear the band’s lovely new EP.

Night Bats strives to separate Loch Lomond from the folk tag that’s clouded the band since the release of its last album, 2007’s Paper the Walls. From the beginning, things are clearly different: First track “Ghost of an Earthworm,” with its chiming guitars and tapped rhythms, resembles early R.E.M. Instead of embellishing its already lavish arrangements, the band strips its sound down, relying more on guitar and voice than on the accents hinted at in the past.

Nowhere is that more evident than on “Spine (MMIX),” a bright and clean interpretation of one of Young’s best songs to date. While the old “Spine” was slow and lilting, the new version bops along at a quick tempo, complete with marching drums and an irresistible bass line. More muscular than anything in the band’s back catalog, “Spine” is the one track that documents the influence of recent tourmates Blitzen Trapper and the Decemberists.

Like the Decemberists’ Colin Meloy, Young performs best when things are kept simple, like on Loch Lomond’s delicate rendering of the Bee Gees’ “Holiday.” It still isn’t a pop band, but Loch Lomond is inching closer with each release. MICHAEL MANNHEIMER.

Brothers Young The Sun Says He’s God

(Emeritus)

[FOLK FAMILY] When Brothers Young—then named Fourever Young—released Young Family Sitcom in 2007, it was hard to figure out where the shtick ended and the music began. But Young Family Sitcom was a more serious endeavor than the act’s name implied. Though their album was peppered with ambient interludes and laced with beats, the group’s namesake brothers—Ritchie, Michael, Dustin and Dillon Young—showed a strong grounding in folk tradition and a knack for singing lovely, unusual harmonies. If anything, the debut’s weakness was the understatement inherent in its production.

Two years and one less Young later (Ritchie has his hands full with Loch Lomond), the rechristened group has hit its stride. There’s a newfound focus to the disc The Sun Says He’s God that makes it clear: Brothers Young is a real band, and a fine one at that.

Though all three Youngs make vocal contributions to the disc, Michael’s laser-sharp pipes—which have the same commanding quality as Wolf Parade’s Dan Boeckner—lead the charge. Michael’s dominance gives a linear thread to wandering tracks like the brooding, Modest Mouse-esque “Waterman” and the lazy, jammy “Planet Earth.” But it’s the disc’s crisp production—which puts less emphasis on beats and puts Michael’s vocals up front—that gives The Sun its personality (as evidenced by two rerecorded and reinvigorated tracks from the last disc, “Birthdays” and “Would You Land?”).

My only complaint here is that there’s not enough of the creepy three-part harmonies that shine on “Us Lights” and “Tall Shadow.” That said, a little shtick goes a long way. CASEY JARMAN.

SEE IT: Brothers Young releases The Sun Thursday, Nov. 5, at the Woods. 9 pm. $7. 21+. Loch Lomond releases Night Bats on Tuesday, Nov. 10, at the Woods. 9 pm. $10 advance, $12 day of show. 21+.

Related posts:

1. Loch Lomond Gets Fancy at the Ace Hotel Behind all
2. Hush Records Releases Loch Lomond Digital Sampler EP Last Frida
3. Loch Lomond, “Wax and Wire,” Night Bats EP (Hush Records) To say it

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

[BLANK SLATE] David Bazan doesn’t know what to tell you about God. After nine Pedro the Lion releases, a decade as indie rock’s scholastic defender of Christianity, and hosting theological QA sessions at every show—followed by a very public loss of faith, a couple years of blackout binge drinking and an album that buries, mourns and rages at everything he believed—Bazan has run out of answers.

“It’s like losing a lifelong imaginary companion,” the Seattle-based singer-songwriter says, then corrects himself. “That’s not even it. I thought God and I had a pretty cool thing going. It’s a companion that had the added feature of providing safety, and was going to be the one to right worldwide wrongs. I grew up believing that the poor and downtrodden had this cosmic advocate, and I no longer do. So that’s not awesome.”

Curse Your Branches, Bazan’s first LP under his own name, is a record of that disappointment—and the sudden vulnerability of shedding a label and discovering that you are naked. As Pedro the Lion, Bazan was an acoustic defense attorney for God, using song cycles like Winners Never Quit and Control to prosecute pious hypocrites and advocate for prodigal sons. But now he has himself become a prodigal, with no intention of returning. “I swung my tassel to the left side of my cap,” he sings in “Hard to Be,” the new album’s opener, “knowing after graduation there would be no going back.” Curse Your Branches is a breakup album where the songwriter doesn’t know if he’s the dumper or predestined to be dumped—or if the person he loved even existed. It is a uniquely honest document of apostasy, with wild fluctuations between freedom and grief. Also, it’s the loveliest piece of pop Bazan has ever recorded.

“I’ve been trying to not have such a rigid idea of what instruments are appropriate,” Bazan says on a Halloween drive between Lawrence, Kan., and Omaha, Neb. (Curse Your Branches opens with synths, then expands past the traditional Pedro drone to include pedal steel, tambourine and group crooning.) “Whatever needs to be there is going to go on there. It’s more fun not to limit myself.”

The casting off of Christianity was far more painful. Bazan hit the bottle hard—“I wanted to drink until I physically couldn’t drink anymore”—and wrote grooving kiss-offs to his former creator. “The toothpaste isn’t going back inside the tube on this one,” he thought. But even in the album’s final song—where Bazan’s father, a Presbyterian choir director, plays piano—he admits, “The crew has killed the captain, but they still can hear his voice.” Bazan retains that longing for God. “I can’t tell which it is: perceiving that something exists, or missing the conviction that something exists. I just don’t know.”

Admitting what he doesn’t know has become Bazan’s daily answer. “The discipline of reserving judgment, I don’t think it comes as naturally for me, and I don’t think it comes naturally for a lot of people. Just feel each conviction as strongly as it comes, write it down, and then move on to the next conviction. Or to lunch, or whatever.” AARON MESH

SEE IT: David Bazan plays Mississippi Studios Friday, Nov. 6, with Say Hi. 9 pm. $12. 21+.

Related posts:

1. The Don Of Division Street Friday, Aug. 7 Matt Caden
2. Hello Loneliness!, Friday, Mar. 6 The shambl
3. Let’s Go Outside Friday, Dec. 5 Steve Schi

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

1. Owl City, “Fireflies”

Holy shit, everything about this rips off the Postal Service. But it’s really, really awful. Is there a lawsuit Ben Gibbard can file? Do we blame him for this shit?

2. Jason DeRulo, “Whatcha Say”

OK, this is pretty catchy, I guess. The Auto-Tune still makes me puke a little, but that T.I.-style beat ’n’ synth sounds pretty epic. Nothing groundbreaking, but at least I can see why people like this.

3. Jay Sean feat. Lil’ Wayne, “Down”

Terrible lyrics. Terrible hook. Zero heart. Just terrible in every way imaginable.

4. Miley Cyrus, “Party In the U.S.A.”

I guess I can’t blame a test-tube baby for soaking up shitty influences like a sponge, but jeez. I hope she wrote this herself! OK, I checked. She didn’t. Kill me.

5. Jay-Z, Rihanna Kanye West, “Run This Town”

This slays everything else on the list so hard I’m amazed it made the charts. Cool, raw-sounding beat! Rihanna can sing! Jay’s still got it! How can Americans be smart about this and so stupid in general? Can I blame the schools? I’ll blame the schools.

Related posts:

1. Casey Neill Casey Neil

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.