I loved Tune Yard’s opening set–but more on that later. Here’s Beirut:

After covering Serge Gainsburg at last night’s show, Zach Condon of Beirut said, “We played that song more for us than for you, sorry.” That’s probably why it sounded great, and it’s probably why their strongest performances of the night were all covers, which included the final closer,”Brazil”, and a signature tune from A Hawk and the Hacksaw they were really excited about (Zach said “We will play it forever”). It wasn’t that these songs, written by someone else, were necessarily stronger compositions to begin with (though they were solid songs), but it felt like the band sounded best when it was least self-conscious, or least aware of its own fame, because it was distracted away from all of the “I love you Zach’s” by the songs they actually love playing. I guess this is more a criticism of the fame they’ve had to deal with than of the band itself, but last night’s show was not a show you’d want to pay $100 for on Craigslist. The songs felt like they needed to be out on the street again, or at the corner of some small cafe, like they needed to go back where they’d originated, come up for air–they’d lost a little bit of their spirit and a little bit of their love.

Here’s a video of the Hawk and a Hacksaw cover from last night’s show. I’ll post more next week.

If embedding this video please link to this page. Watch in HD.

It wasn’t a bad show by any means though–people couldn’t help smiling and everyone (except for us, I guess?) went home in a blissful state, but I felt like the original point of Beirut was missing just a little bit; that somehow fame had had its irreversible effect. And it’s kind of sad because all of the people who saw them live for the first time last night didn’t even see the best they’ve had to offer, yet went home thinking that they did see it, and what’s worse, totally satisfied with that thought. I maybe overreacting, though–after all, three of their key players were absent: Jason Poranski, Jon Natchez, and Kristin Ferebee. Was it temporary? I don’t know. Drummner Nicholas Petree and accordionist Perrin Cloutier (and I would even add bassist Paul Collins) held the show together, and I have to say that Zach Condon and Kelly Pratt leading the front is not going to be enough. Besides, the horns were sometimes sloppy (and Zach’s horn sounded way too loud compared to the rest).

After playing “Brazil” and before leaving the stage, Zach said, “We’re also available for barmitzvahs and weddings”, which is probably the only sincere thing I’ve ever heard him say at a show, ever, and it’s not because he lacks sincerity, but the spotlight seems to make him somewhat stiff and guarded. He still does his “fake laugh at the microphone” bit, which I wouldn’t even mention if I didn’t think it was a symptom of a larger awkwardness–he seems most relaxed when he’s turned around to face his band mates or when he’s lifted his horn and taken a few steps back to play it. I don’t think this is as much about stage fright as it is about being put out into the world for massive scrutiny (and here I am deploying my own version of such massive scrutiny). But still, I’m saying that I’d have so much more fun if they were playing a barmitzah or a wedding. Where was Jason Poranski?!

Listening to some of the new songs, I thought they were pretty good, and especially worth noting that they’re not really laden with hooks as such, which can sometimes be a sign of someone’s comfort with the process of songwriting. The parts I liked were the ones that seemed pretty close to the traditions they were inspired by. But I’m not sure what happened to the amazing new songs I’d heard at their last-minute show at the same venue back in May of 2008–they either didn’t play any of that or they were edited and played beyond recognition.

Music Hall of Williamsburg,
Brooklyn, New York
Feb 4, 2009

From the start, it was clear that Angel, one of the two brothers to found the band, is an adept drummer; Jorge, despite his dorky enthusiasm, backs it up with skills on the guitar; and though Ms. Lupe Martinez, a fine singer and guitarist, was the last to join the group, she gives the outfit an edge and a memorable face, filling up the void that would’ve been left otherwise. 

After dabbling in several bands and experimenting with several sounds, the brothers have found themselves in Allá, which was once no more than a side project, but Allá has yet to fully find itself, at least live; the body has been identified as have the limbs, but I don’t think it’s quite soaring yet. The very least I expected was a just rendition of the joyous “Una Dia Otra Noche”, which is being pushed as “the single” over the internetz. Instead, we got a muddy, jammy version, which would’ve been fine had they at another point given proof of their ability to play that song with the kind of precision it requires. The thing is, though the percussive elements were strong throughout the show, the composition of the six-piece ensemble was not that interesting: a bass, a keyboard, drums, two guitars and additional percussive instruments like cowbell, tambourine, etc. If you’re going to entice listeners with a song like “Una Dia Otra Noche”, which doesn’t reflect the overall sound of the record, you really have to deliver it live—there should’ve been a violinist there!

A great band to have on the horizon, nonetheless.

All pictures inside

Photos after the jump

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.

All photos and more after the jump

To be fair, I am not disappointed with the new Múm. I really enjoy their newest release Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy, but I regret that with Kria Brekken’s exit, the old is now definitely gone. And this only because every time I saw the old Múm live, the experience felt truly special. Last night after a set filled with songs from Go Go Smear, I was excited (as was everyone else) when they began playing “We Have a Map of The Piano” from Finally We Are No One. But as they got into the song, the overall performance of it was a bit of a mess (this was very symbolic – the old is now gone!, I say).

One of the problems, if you can call it that, is that the new girls, especially Sigurlaug Gísladóttir (aka Mr. Silla), have slick, refined voices. Kria Brekken, when she was still Kristin Anna Valtysdottir, had a strong personality with a distinct whispering, dreamy voice that always seemed to be indulged in pointless, endless, poetic musings. The new girls, on the other hand, are not musing, they are all-out singing. Besides, compared to the gentle personalities of the old girls, these two seem to be the opposite: last time with her boyish hair in platinum blonde and this time her body robed with a chic, drape-y dress, Mr. Silla is all confident and stylish; and as for cellist/singer Hildur Gudnadottir, she’s outrightly nutty. With her constant wide smiles, jokes, winks, and quick, quirky bows in a row, she gives the impression of being a total goof.

But needless to say, when the girls perform songs written for them, from Go Go Smear, especially strong ones like “They Made Frogs Smoke ‘Til They Exploded”, “Blessed Brambles”, “Marmalade Fires” and “Dancing Behind My Eyelids”, they take on a central role, and sound really good too. During these four songs, the performance regained some of the old specialness, albeit of a different color, but the only problem was that the entire set wasn’t as strong by Múm standards, much like the album Go Go Smear.

But it was a very good show, and the opening bands were a great surprise (more on them later). To me, drummer Samuli Kosminen is the most important thread that ties the new band to the old. Whether it’s playing the sides of his head or his orange towel padding the tight skin of his set, the earthy drum sound lives on. He shrugged modestly when at the end of the show band mates pointed to a fan holding a sign that read “Samuli is the Greatest”.

Pictures from last night’s show:

Pictures below were taken last fall at from St. Paul the Apostle church, where Múm performed as part of the Worldess Music Series.

Most of all, I was blown away by the production of the exhibit itself – from the statue in the lobby to the extravagant walls. What I loved the best was the black wall of the area that housed a series of three statues, each depicting a stage in which a female character (I forget her name) transforms into a robot in flight. I suppose it is typical of Murakami that her most private part struts out all the way in the front and forms the nose of the plane… Anyhow, I didn’t care much for the streaks of lightning across the black wall, but the border all along the top, made of round shapes in varying sizes and opacity, was really endearing.

Speaking of private parts forming the nose of a plane, someone is bound to ask what is art and what is not. I personally don’t care for the question (or the answer) at all. I just think it’s probably not bad to walk into a museum and see statues of two anime figures, one of a female with ballooning breasts squirting an orbit of milk around her, and another of a male squirting an orbit of his milk from his you know what. Don’t think that’s bad deal at all, not for $10 bucks anyway.

Some of my favorite paintings were the gigantic ones, most of them in the Beatrice and Samuel A. Seaver Gallery and Donald and Mary P. Oenslager Gallery. The ones I liked tended to deviate in small ways from what is considered his signature style. I’m holding one of them in the left postcard, which by the way was steeply priced at $2.75 a piece. But it wasn’t the postcards that were pimping. There was one counter with a showcase of Murakami-designed YSL accessories, where staff dressed in all white strutted the stuff.