There’s little in Mates of State that can be pin-pointed as lacking. The marriage of lively drums and rich organs is a natural click, and Jason Hammel’s folksy voice provides an earthy texture to Kori Gardner’s smooth. Yet, the band is a hit or miss. Most conversations I overheard seemed to indicate that those holding privileged press passes and special tickets at Mercury Lounge’s “secret show” loved the it, but I found most of the songs kept slipping off, there was little to grab on to. Despite a “fucked up cable” that led to Jason’s microphone problems, I enjoyed the cover of “These Days” the most, clearly because it easily stuck out as a great song among the other fleeting ones. The dusty timbre of his voice gave the cover a nice tone, though the addition of violin and cello overdramatized it. No matter which way you sing it, “These Days” is inherently a sullen song; I’m not a big fan of emphasizing the sadness when it’s already present in the very molecules of the tune. The presence of the two brothers on violin and cello was an enjoyable presence nonetheless, and you probably need to be in a certain state of mind to adore the music of Mates of State.
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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.
Photos after the jump
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.
