A lot of love came Dan Deacon’s way at McCarren Pool. People offered him hugs, someone his sunglasses and another a bag of ice to keep cool (the first he warmly accepted, the last two politely declined). Most impressively, fans offered the kind of devotion that comes from being well-versed in all Deaconian traditions involving sing-alongs, chants and co-ordinated finger waves with stretched arms (whatever is the technical term for this particular move). I’m guessing it’s official: Dan Deacon is a movement!
While I was taking photos, Borchers was down in the pit:
As a 3rd tier opener for Octopus Project, Dan Deacon’s set was a fraction of what it usually is. But at about 5 feet from his signature, crowd-level table (equipped with his colorful gadgets), Deacon might as well have been a headlining act. The set was filled out by opener OCDJ, friend and fellow Baltimorite.
Even after The Books started touring as a duo, they’ve always been good at delivering their experimental songs live. Nick has an understated, calm voice faithful to the recordings while Paul’s cello serves to add improvisational fluidity. Ever since their collection of found-video collages began to take shape, however, the structure of their recent shows has been somewhat standardized. It was a great delight, then, to be surprised during the encore with a rarely performed “Getting the Job Done” from 2002’s Thought for Food. Perhaps it was the addition of opener Todd Reynolds on the violin that allowed it to happen. They referred to the shortened version as a “half” song, an amazing one at that, and Nick can really sing that fast.
If you’re at South Street Seaport for the music, you’ve really got to move upfront. From afar it may have seemed like British trio Fujiya & Miyagi was vaguely happening, but closer to the stage they had their seductive groove on. At the receiving end of matching moves, rolling R’s, guitar scratches and stiff faces was an enthusiastic audience. Next week is Menomena with Beat the Devil, and the free festival has just added Suicide for a July 27 show.
Benni Hemm Hemm’s music might be a wistful exploration of the understated, but it requires quite a bit of horn players. At Mercury Lounge there were five of them (switching between at least two trumpets, two trombones, a French horn and a sousaphone). As they waited by the steps leading to the tiny stage, they felt no less than men readying for war. Except, there was no war: as Benni explained some of his Icelandic songs to an English-speaking audience, they were mostly about snow, hills and things they intend to never do, such as (1) make a promise and (2) betray. This the American audience found funny, and Benni smiled along.
Playing before them were Casiotone for the Painfully Alone. When I got there, singer Owen Ashworth was huddled over his electronics, singing heartbreaking tunes by himself. His four-piece band (drums, bass, guitar, keyboards) joined for the rest, though they were barely able to pollute the melancholy in Owen’s raspy voice. His personality (translated superbly into a band name) leads to the kind of songwriting that feels quintessentially American. To top it off, there was an excellent cover of Paul Simon’s Graceland.
My favorite is the kind of music I imagine to have been created by hooligans. This includes an imagery, heavily influenced by the movie Underground, of irreparable, drunken devotion to music through an otherwise quiet night. Here the musicians boast of decent talent, but it’s gushing passion that boldens them. Led by roaming spirits to drink their money (and homes) away, of course, their heads and hearts simply can’t be rooted. It encompasses what Zach Condon called a “ramshackle orchestra” he first witnessed in Paris (and later re-created in Brooklyn). Man Man are such gypsies at heart, and that’s why I love them. Their show at McCarren Pool was the best I’ve seen all this summer. From the way they were physically set up on stage to the way the songs are written, arranged and performed, the group is very organic, and each member a gift. Albums are a bonus, but Man Man must simply be seen live. Besides, they’re how a “rock and roll” band should be: at once, talented and clumsy, serious and unserious, intellectual and anti-intellectual; but rebellious at all times by simply being all they care to be.
Three bands from Montreal - Malajube, Sam Roberts Band and The Stills - played Prospect Park’s Celebrate Brooklyn series on the occassion of Canada Day. Out of all outdoor venues this summer, Prospect Park’s Bandhsell is perhaps the classiest (as reflected by the bill, which includes fine orchestras and jazz acts). Enclosed by lush trees, there’s plenty of shade, but most worth noting is the superior quality of sound. Rows and rows of chairs, however, (and a half-empty “members only” area in front of the stage) can seem awkward when a band like Malajube is playing- sitting and Malajube just don’t go together. But the patch of cool grass at the back is quite spacious, and by the time the Stills came on and evening turned into night, there was more getting up and dancing.
hooves on the turf is a mostly-music blog based out of brooklyn. i can be reached at hoovesontheturf [at] gmail [dot] com - please send me your lovely music as an attached mp3 or an mp3 link. if i like what you send, i'll be sure to ask for more.
