Annie Clark’s weapon is her intent. Her grace is a swift punch packed with pointed articulation, and for this she has found the appropriate musical expression (aided by an assortment of gadgets at her feet, including an expressive kick drum, and the coupling of a regular microphone with a distorted one). Her angry, unrestrained outbursts on the electric guitar show off her control over the instrument, but her playing can hardly be classified as flamboyant or subtle. Instead, the power comes from the emotion she keeps sharpened, which results in clarity without being overbearing. Her singing takes on the same quality- it is the intention that provides shape to her voice that otherwise escapes easy categorization, and it’s this skill of Annie’s that makes her shows powerful, with or without a full band.
Denmark’s Under Byen brought back their pensive tunes to New York, this time at the all-age Knitting Factory’s Main Stage. The two drummers fitted themselves at the back of the small space, and cello, saw, violin, pedals, piano, guitar, bass were all in place to twirl around singer Henriette Sennenvaldt’s breathy indulgence. The only thing embarrassing when it comes to music as solemn as this, and performed with no shortcomings at that, is all the chattering you can hear from the audience, especially at a venue so small. There was undivided attention at the end of each song, however, when it came time to applaud and hoot. The band members don’t say a word, of course, and when someone yelled, “You have a beautiful voice!”, Henriette simply lowered her head slowly and rolled it back up.
The set was mostly filled with songs from the latest, Samme Stof Som Stof, though I think their older albums Det Er Mig Der Holder Traeerne Sammen and Kyst are the ones filled with indispensable showcase pieces. “Den Her Sang Handler Om At FÃ¥ Det Bedste Ud Af Det” from the new one, however, is a real winner played live.
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.
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.
