It all sounded the same during an early Fiery Furnaces show at Southpaw, but I can’t say it wasn’t intended to, and not that any of it wasn’t good. Two sets of keyboards laid the foundation for the jams, and Eleanor Friedberger sang coolly with radiant eyes, whether the topic was a lost dog, husbands, or sons of bitches. Stories after stories her voice never faltered, while the cut of her face to the jerks of her movement all matched the aesthetic of the music. She cannot not be the face of the sound, an incarnation of a summer at least four decades old. Her brother Matthew warmed the stage with grinding keys, goofy smiles, forgotten lyrics and an ocassional cheer for Kyle Hollingsworth from String Cheese Incident who took on the second set of keys. While he and the drummer took a beer break backstage, Eleanor played drums while Mathew sang with missing lyrics.
Last night was my second time watching Múm since they formed a new line-up. At St. Paul the Apostle Church last year (pictures at the end of this post) I found the band’s Wordless performance to be lacking. They’d said they’d written up a special set list to complement the very special venue, but what appeared to be a toning-down of their whimsical percussive sound, especially the drumming, seemed like the wrong choice to me. I thought the opening trio Torngat (more on them later) outdid Múm in making a truly awesome use of the venue’s awesome presence. But last night at Brooklyn Masonic Temple, with no special setlist, I felt the same void in the new Múm. The performance was very good, and at times straight-up great, but with the new members, or I should say with the absence of Kria Brekken, Múm is a different band.
The thing is, standing in front of a perfectly smooth swathe of solid paint can leave you feeling completely nourished, and being in the midst of craftsmanship can really get you excited. So of course Murkami’s show at Brooklyn Museum was inspiring. It was brilliant. But I’m not a big fan of Murakami’s style. I appreciate his full submission to the power of colors and the drama of simple shapes, his unwavering tribute to aesthetics, and I appreciate more than anything his commitment to perfection, but I’m not in any way blown away by his vision. From a friend of a friend who worked for him (many of the pieces she worked on were up), I know that an outrageous amount of work from various people have gone into the show, which is only evident.
How tempting is it to hear that Regina Spektor is playing Soundfix for free? Very tempting. But I’ve decided not to go. I really want to see the cherries blossom, and I really want to have brunch with friends at Tom’s Diner, I’m not super-stoked about Murakami, but sure I’ll check him out. But I don’t want to wait in the line for hours to see an intimate show. Because then it’s really not intimate anymore. For the experience to be intimate, you need to stroll in with a few friends to buy a record and suddenly realize that a girl is playing on the piano inside, and you decide, let’s pull up a chair guys, let’s get a drink and check this woman out. So for now I’ll just accept Regina’s now a superstar and I’ll try to pay a superstar price to get front row tickets when she plays the next time. How about that.
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Download “Sunrise”| Download “2080″| Before Man Man took stage, Yeasayer played. I’d been pretty frustrated with Coyote’s opening set, I hadn’t enjoyed it at all, so when Yeasayer finally started, it was no less than hills awash with sun beams. I love how this band is devoid of any nonsense, how the four work so well together despite appearing to have very different personalities (especially their sense of fashion). It was a completely cohesive sound, and there was no trace of disconnect. The singing is filled with great details, both on stage and off. And I’m not sure if the effect was heightened by not enjoying Coyote’s songwriting, but what shines in Yeasayer for me is the determination to do nothing less than push the form we call music to uncertain boundaries, where beautiful things eventually happen. Sun beams
I can’t imagine Man Man not kicking ass, so needless to say, the show kicked ass. More importantly: before they went on stage and while they set up, Beach Boys’ “Kokomo” played on repeat for about a hundred times, but it was followed by Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”, which outdid “Kokomo” by roughly a million more repeats. Funniest was the irresistibility of both tunes: there wasn’t a single person setting up the stage that wasn’t singing along, and of course there were sing-along’s amongst the audience as well. But more convincing were the groans every time the song started fresh after a brief silence. The crowd was wild during Man Man’s set. I’m not sure how I feel about the venue.
