In the Bedroom (with Bradford Cox)

I’m not sure why I’m only just getting wind of this (and this, this, and this). Apparently, Bradford Cox has had some time on his hands this fall.

At last night’s show at the Bell House, he said:

I got off tour with Deerhunter, I got home, and I didn’t have anything to do.  I started feeling wild – like Cabin Fever, you know? I watched two seasons of Law and Order: Criminal Intent… in like 52 hours. I wasn’t returning phone calls, and it was dark. So I get out my little recording machine and I made some recordings.

Except, well he was underselling himself a bit by his choice of words. In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, he posted four – yes four – Atlas Sound albums on his site – available to download for free! That’s 49 songs, if you’re counting.

Cover art for Bedroom Databank, Vol. 4

Initially, the release of his Bedroom Databank was met with some controversy from Sony.

The day after he had finished posting all four volumes, Cox apparently received several copyright-infringement e-mails from Sony Music, ordering him to delete the download links to volumes 2, 3 and 4 due to:

Unauthorized reproduction and distribution of copyrighted sound recordings owned or exclusively distributed by Sony Music

This is of course odd given the fact that neither Deerhunter (4AD) nor Atlas Sound (Kranky) are signed to Sony. The only possible infringement was the small handful of cover songs (Bob Dylan/The Band, Kurt Vile, and Royal Trux).

Cox responded to the email by voicing his frustrations on his site:

Apparently Sony Music owns my bedroom. Feel free to call or email and let them know what you think. I can understand them requesting for me to remove a cover but the only one I can imagine that happening with is Dylan. Which was on Vol. 1. Which was not deleted.

Sony has since claimed that the whole thing was some kind of weird misunderstanding.

So get to it, kids. After hearing a number of the new songs previewed last night and sampling some of the recordings, I am eager to hear more. With its brief instrumental interludes, warm lo-fi recording quality, and intimately revealing lyrics, Cox’s Bedroom Databank collection has much in common with (dare I say it?) what is perhaps my favorite album – The Microphone’s The Glow, pt. 2. Good stuff indeed for the cold, dark, wet, and windy days to come.

[A full review of last night's show will soon be available on Brooklyn Vegan. I just have to write it...]

The sound of the city

Patrick Watson + Doveman – Bell House – May 6

I walked into Doveman’s show, mid set – and in the middle of a depressing string of songs. This one’s about an ex-girlfriend drinking alone in her room in college, admitted front man Thomas Bartlett by way of introducing “Drinking.” It’s got a lot of discordant notes. He leaned far over the piano as if dwelling on memories (or perhaps just concentrating hard on the notes). Doveman features a wide array of musicians, but tonight Bartlett was joined by a trumpet, upright bass, and drums. Sadly, Sam Amidon was not present though the two Vermonters (Vermontians?) have collaborated a fair amount in the past.

Thomas Bartlett of Doveman

For every song, Bartlett had some sort of pithy intro. So You know when you’ve been drinking too much red wine and you get that stain on your lips? Well this song is about that.

And then a lesson about whiskey followed by So I invite you all to get a shot from the bar and start drinking for “The Angels Share.” And a story about playing at a Christian school. They asked me to replace every mention of ‘honey’ with ‘Jesus.’ I think you’ll find it highly entertaining if you think ‘Jesus’ every time you hear ‘honey’ in the song.

The set was very laid back, but the music was also very deliberate. The drums actually had texture and complexity. And, for once, I didn’t even take my earplugs out of their case. Instead of the usual wide open space, a handful of tables and chairs were spread out on the floor, and people sat, respectfully, sipping beer by candle light. With a number of other promising shows happening concurrently (Beach House at Webster Hall and Local Natives at Bowery Ballroom), I suppose that the people at the Bell House really wanted to be there.

There are currently 10 songs up on the Doveman myspace page. Go nuts.

As the special lighting got rigged up in between sets, people sat Indian style on the floor, but once Patrick Watson had started his set with “Firewood,” most rose to their seat.

Watson’s music may be absolutely beautiful and melodic, but it is also quite raucous at times. Soon, the reason for all the special attention to the lighting was made clear. The small flood light attached to one of the amps at the front of the stage periodically lit up, illuminating everyone on stage – if only briefly. Throughout the show, the lighting played an important role in establishing the mood. For some songs, the lights flickered on and off, furiously.

Patrick Watson

At times, Patrick Watson’s music is downright creepy  - especially “Traveling Salesman,” which sounds almost carnivalesque, as if made by a maladjusted and melancholic clown. The dimly flickering lights on stage just add to the unsettling effect.

For much of the set, Patrick Watson shared the stage with as many as seven other people who played the violin, viola, cello, guitar, drums/percussion, bass, guitar, etc. The percussionist in particular, was quite good. He knew when to rock out, he had a lot of different toys to pick from (wooden blocks, overturned ceramics, and much more), and he knew when to sit back and let the melodies take over.

Ever song sounded epic. Every song sounded worthy of being the grand finale… or at least I thought so until I actually saw the double encore performance.

For the first song of the encore, Watson walked off the stage, saying So we built a fun contraption. Just give us two seconds while we put it on. And then he emerged in the crowd wearing this:

Yes, those are megaphones strapped into a backpack that has five inputs and knobs in the back to tinker with the sound. Oh yeah, and those megaphones all have light bulbs coming out of them. So we built this thing so we could play in the audience and have some fun, Watson continued. He proceeded to walk to the middle of the pit with his band, and they played two songs from there. As always, the use of the saw was quite welcome (especially in the audience!).

This is the music for after the zombie apocalypse, said the guy behind me.

The pack on Watson’s back was cool, but presumably, it was also quite heavy. This was a terrible idea, he admitted as he took it off and set it on the ground for the second song, “Man Under the Sea.” Now unencumbered by the pack, Watson led the crowd in a sing along that was so enthralling that I didn’t even notice his band mates slip away and walk back on stage, where they played out the last bit of the song in full force once again.

I think the band intended to stop playing then, but they came back for just one more. Watson took suggestions from the crowd and settled on the ad-libbed title “Where’s My Pajamas.” For the final song, all eight people played this new song, making it up on the spot as they went alone. My bones are getting cold now. I want to put you on, Watson sang softly. He frantically directed his band mates for this dramatic conclusion.

From what I could tell, here’s the set list (feel free to correct it if you know better):

Fireweed
Tracy’s Waters
Beijing
Big Bird in a Small Cage
Traveling Salesman
Intro
Man Like You
Luscious Life
Where the Wild Things Are
Sit Down Beside Me

Encore
Hearts in the Park
Man Under the Sea

Double Encore
Where’s my pajamas?

Charlotte Gainsbourg at the Bell House – January 19

After spending a decent amount of time with her sophomore album thanks to the exclusive first listen series over at NPR Music, I was pretty pumped at the prospect of seeing Charlotte Gainsbourg in concert. (1) As previously blogged, her song with Beck “Heaven Can Wait” is absolutely fantastic, and you must watch the video if you haven’t already.

I missed the opening band, Dinosaur Feathers, but two separate people said I “didn’t miss much,” so no biggie. Then came Charlotte. She was clearly nervous… to the extent that she kind of resembled a wind-up doll or a marionette animated by some external force. She’d stand there, unassuming, in the spotlight, open her mouth a bit, and then not sing right away.  Despite her hesitance, she was clearly trying and the audience was more than forgiving. Over and over, they yelled things like, “You’re beautiful, Charlotte! I love you!” or “You’re amazing. I love your hair” to which she’d  smile demurely or no her head. With time, that deer-in-the-headlights look mellowed a bit, and her act got tighter. In particular, her performance for the last couple of songs (“Operation” and “Trick Pony”) was energetic and more confident.

I have to say – based on what I had heard on her album, I was mildly disappointed. She was not the powerful, seductive, and alluring chanteuse I was expecting. No, she was certainly no François Hardy or Lykke Li. As I walked away from the Bell House, I tried to gage other peoples’ reactions. Here, I’m afraid was another example of people coming to the show largely based on who she is and not the music she makes. (2) I admit that was part of the reason I went. I was expecting a show, an act to get fully sucked into. But people seemed more alive mingling and head bobbing along to the music in between sets than they did to Charlotte Gainsbourg save for a few notable songs. On the way out, one girl said, “Well it may be genetic, but she still does have a little bit of the magic. I’ll still pay to watch her.”

In a recent phone interview with the New York Times, Gainsbourg states the following:

“Just because my father was such a genius with his songwriting, his lyrics, his music — that doesn’t mean I have any gift. I don’t believe in that. I have my own path. But the comparisons are constant. And the comparisons are heavy to wear.”

Indeed. No one said it would be easy.

For a limited time, you can steam the entirety of IRM via NPR Music. Be sure to take advantage of this while you can. Despite my take on her show last night, I still found myself buying a copy of her upcoming album on the way out. After all… it was produced by Beck.

(1) Luckily, I was not scarred by her ball-busting performance in Lars von Trier’s Antichrist since I have not yet seen it.

(2) Charlotte, of course, is the daughter of the famous French pop star Serge Gainsbourg.