March 1, 2011 · 1:42 am

Recommended local music: Jason Alarm

It ain’t easy being your neighborhood rock-and-roll band.

There’s a fine line that needs to be walked when you’re playing dive bars and keg parties. You can’t take yourself too seriously — you have an obligation to be fun. There’s a time and a place for self-indulgent balalaika noodling (I guess), but Mac’s Bar isn’t it.

That said, fun doesn’t mean dumb. No one likes a novelty band playing novelty songs– at least no one who really appreciates good music.

It’s tough to find the common ground uniting head and hips, but Jason Alarm does it as well as anyone in the area.

This Grand Ledge-based band has a handful of secret weapons. The first is singer Matt Waterman, who attacks each syllable with a hoarse yell like he’s trying to exercise cement from his throat. His voice sounds a little bit like Dave Grohl until the end of each phrasing, when he descends into a wild, Patrick Stickles-esque vibrato. I actually chuckled the first time I heard it, but I’ve come to appreciate its awesomeness.

Second, it sounds like they’ve picked up a few tricks from Weezer and the Rentals, adding New Wave flourishes into their 80s hardcore-influenced rock.  Synth leads bounce around the mix like blasters from Star Wars. And is that a bit of prog-rock I hear, too?

Most importantly, they write pretty good songs. Two of them – “Your Radio” and “Pretty Lips” – are available for download here. You can even name your price – how very Radiohead of them!

I don’t see any upcoming appearances listed on their MySpace page, but it looks like put on a pretty good show, as the Lansing Music TV video below indicates. I’m looking forward them to seeing them around town.

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February 23, 2011 · 3:50 am

The week we got old, again

Hey, have I ever told you about how much I like Radiohead?

Last week began with Arcade Fire – Merge Records loyalists, defenders of the underground, ambassadors of all that is Right and Just in the music business — winning the most mainstream, ridiculous award there is.

It ended with a new Radiohead album to obsess over — a specialty of mine for about 14 (!) years now.

Too much input! Too much input! Ahhh!

Of course, the Grammys are meaningless. I know this, you know this. Arcade Fire’s, uh, peers in the Album of the Year category included Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. Last year’s Album of the Year winner? Taylor Swift. She’s talented enough, but it’s hard to imagine anyone over 17 elevating Fearless to high art.

In fact, the Grammys are so meaningless that I was a bit disturbed that we were in perfect alignment on The Suburbs – my pick for album of the year as well.

What gives, man? Does this mean indie rock has triumphed over the corporate variety? Does it mean that the alternative revolution – which began in earnest nearly 30 years ago – has effectively beheaded the king?

Or does it say more about me, and where I’m at as music fan barreling toward 30?

Mostly, I think it’s just another landmark in the ever-churning media-consumption evolution. There’s a great ongoing series in the Onion’s pop-culture arm, A.V. Club. It’s called “Whatever Happened to Alternative Nation?” and it’s written by the fantastic Steven Hyden. Much like me, he was in the inevitable position of growing up a music snob in a small town. (There were no record stores in Iron Mountain, Mich., population 8,000 or so. Hell, we were excited when we got a Wal-Mart). For me, “Whatever Happened to Alternative Nation” is practically a walk down Penny Lane — his story could be mine.

It wasn’t easy to procure good music back then. There was no iTunes or Pandora. File-sharing was in its infancy. I had to go to Green Bay to get my hands on the latest Sub Pop release.

Like Sam Colt and his revolver, it’s no secret that the Internet has leveled the playing field for musicians. Arcade Fire knows this better than most – an exuberant 2004 Pitchfork Media review of their debut album Funeral was instrumental in their breakthrough.

But at this point, it’s difficult to look at Arcade Fire as an indie band. They’re not on a major label, and they certainly don’t have the fan base of an Eminem or a Justin Bieber. But they’re everywhere – filling up the space in blogs and tweets, licensing their music to Super Bowl commercials (it was for charity, OK?!) and selling out the biggest venues in the world.

If it was released today, would In the Aeroplane Over the Sea win a Grammy? How about Slanted and Enchanted? Probably not, but I don’t think it’s out of the question. They would almost certainly be embraced by a much larger, much more plugged-in fanbase than that which existed in the mid-90s – a support structure that would have marketed their music in efficient and effective ways.

It’s not much different than that DIY spirit that birthed the alternative movement, right? Anyway, I still think The Suburbs is the best album of the year – and like always, Arcade Fire did it the right way.

Speaking of bands that do it the right way, HOLY SHIT RADIOHEAD RELEASED A NEW ALBUM LAST WEEK ;LJKASJLKAS;;SDAJL;FJKLASDJDKFALJK;DF

Radiohead! For me, a new Radiohead album is an event – oddly enough, one that comes with an exploration of past and mortality. This band has so prominently sign-posted my life that it’s impossible not to look back — and to realize that with each new release there’s that much more to consider.

OK Computer? The fascination and terror of late adolescence. My bedroom in my parent’s house. The Internet and all the new horizons it represented. Kid A?  It was released just a few months into my college career, man. Unsuccessfully trying to entice girls into my dorm by blaring “Idioteque” (“Hey baby, wanna see my Thom Yorke dance?”). Listening under the influence. Learning about Charlie Mingus and Can. Amnesiac? Let’s just say it came just in time for my first real long-term adult relationship and all the heavy, heavy shit that brings.

And so on. Each song brings memories real and vivid, often accompanied by that knot in your stomach that says, “These are things that happened in your past; you can’t ever go back.”

I’m 29 now. There’s nothing particularly significant about turning 30 – in fact, I’ve heard lots of people live interesting, productive lives even into their 40s! But it is a time to reflect, to look ahead, and yes – to worry a tiny bit about the future.

For the record, I really like The King of Limbs. I love how ballsy it is. I love the electro-jazz clusterfuck of “Bloom” and “Feral,” the robot-soul of  “Little by Little” and “Lotus Flower,” the Talking Heads-esque “Morning Mr. Magipie” and “Separator,” and the holy-fuck-that’s-beautiful-in-that-way-only-Radiohead-can-do of “Codex” and “Giving up the Ghost.”

I didn’t like it at first, to be honest. But that’s the great thing about being a Radiohead fan – they always drag you in kicking and screaming before soothing you into acceptance. Always moving, always one step ahead.

I’m moving too – with one significant change in the immediate future and others, always, on the horizon. At least I know what I’ll be listening to.

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August 8, 2010 · 10:35 pm

Home recording: Keepin’ it real

Hey, how bout that Arcade Fire album?

Want to know part of the reason why it just sounds so good? According to Win Butler, the band actually cut each song to vinyl before digitizing it. “For every song on the record, there is a 12-inch disk that we played back into the computer,” he told Rolling Stone.  ”It’s like a photograph of the vinyl.”

I’d love to make music like that. But alas, there’s only one of me and about 17 of them. And I’m not nearly as talented as any of them — not even the one dude who looks a little like Napoleon Dynamite. Plus, I don’t have any hurdy-gurdys or pipe organs lying around, so I have to make do with what I have.

“Hashi” is the first song I’ve ever recorded using all software instruments — outside of my (heavily processed) voice, there’s not a “real” sound in the song. It’s a concept I’ve always shied away from. I had my musical coming of age in the early 90s, when bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam strove for recordings that essentially sounded like a live band — none of that overproduced, drum machine-usin’ 80s crap.

While my ears will always gravitate toward records that sound like The Suburbs, I’ve come to appreciate music with a distinctly synthesized sound as well. I mean, come on, “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” is an amazing sounding record, isn’t it? Plus, even if it sounds like Win Butler is singing right into your ear, he’s not. So how is that any realer? Besides, we all know what happens when keepin’ it real goes wrong.

Anyway, “Hashi” is not really a full-fledged song. It’s more of a sonic blueprint for areas of future exploration. And, oh yeah, it’s in Japanese. For a song as synthesized as this, it just made sense to sing it in a language I don’t know. Thank you, Google Translator.

Question for the home recording geeks:  Anyone know why I would get a major loss of volume every time I bounce my tracks over to mp3 in Logic?

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July 28, 2010 · 1:06 am

“This is not ‘Nam!” — the Midnight Rule and other unwritten laws of the karaoke jungle

In Japan, everything is an artform.

Food. Fighting. Showing respect. Praying. Caligraphy. Comic books. Game shows.

Did you know karaoke is a Japanese word? It means “empty orchestra,” which is actually a beautiful way to describe something so often the opposite (it’s also pronounced kah-rah-oh-kay, not karey-okee or ka-ro-kee, but whatevs). Like any artform, there are rules to karaoke; the greatest practitioners respect those rules and then bend them to their will. But that’s advanced technique. For our purposes, we’ll stick to the basics — you wouldn’t go to a ballet and break out the stanky legg, would you? So the next time you stumble up to a mic, why not show the art of karaoke the respect it deserves?

The following four theories have been forged in the fires of karaoke bars throughout the great state of Michigan. Adhere to them, and you will succeed. Ignore them at your own peril.

1.) “I made up my mind, I’m keeping my baby,” or: Choice is everything

Everything begins and ends with the song. Remember, you are simply a vessel for something far greater than yourself, the inheritor of a cosmic force which began generations ago. I could write a book on choosing the right song; there is so much to teach you, yet so little time. I will do my best.

  • The 80s are greaties — You haven’t lived until you’ve led a roomful of drunken ‘tards through “You Give Love a Bad Name.” You have never felt power until you’ve fist-pumped like a champ through “Cum On Feel the Noize.” You’ll never realize what a sexy beast you are until you’ve given your all to “Like a Virgin.” The 80s were made for karaoke — I’m not sure how the practice survived before then. And this is key — you know how toward the end of every 80s song, everything but the drums and the vocals drop out and the lead singer pumps his fists or claps his hands while singing the chorus (see 3:19 in)? Do not miss this opportunity!
  • Old school soul is gold — Motown, Stax, Prince, Stevie Wonder, Jackson Five, Michael Jackson — these are all standards and excellent choices. Sing the parts you can, don’t worry about the ones you can’t. Very important — this does not necessarily extend to neo-soul/modern pop-soul songs, although it may. Beyonce, Alicia Keys and Justin Timberlake are great; D’Angelo, Jill Scott and Erykah Badu, not so much. No human being outside of Andre 3000 can do “Hey Ya” justice; I’ve tried and failed. Told you this shit gets complicated. As a rule, stick with the tried and true.
  • Country: surprisingly successful! — If you’ve going to go country, you need to go universal. “Friends in Low Places” is a great, great choice, one of the best out there. “Fishing in the Dark” brings the house down in the right circumstances, as does “Ring of Fire” and most other Johnny Cash standards. Toby Keith is a d-bag but “Beer for My Horses” is a killer. For the ladies, “Before He Cheats” and “Goodbye Earl”can’t miss. Nothing brings a roomful of women together quicker than songs about killing men.
  • Sorry, hipsters — I’m the biggest Radiohead fan in the world, but anyone who sings “High and Dry” at karaoke deserves to be drawn and quartered with a butter knife. Karaoke is about taking part in a collective celebration, not celebrating your own snobbishness. This goes for all modern indie bands, unfortunately — however, 80s new wave acts (Elvis Costello, Devo, Cars, Talking Heads, etc.) are absolutely acceptable choices. You may think that “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes falls into this category, but you would be very, very wrong.
  • Golden Age of Hip Hop only, plz —  Pretty much anyone can rap “Baby Got Back” (and they do, and they should!). Same goes for “Just a Friend,” “Fight for Your Right (to Party)” and so on. If you can do a mean “Gin and Juice,” I’d love to hear it. But you can’t fake the funk when it comes to karaoke hip-hop, so leave the tougher stuff to the experts.
  • Don’t go slow — So you’re a great singer. Who cares! I still don’t want to hear you sing “My Heart Will Go On.” There is an ebb and flow to every karaoke bar — you can operate within a certain variance, but don’t kill the mood with a snoozer.

2.) “Even through the fire,” or: You gotta commit

Karaoke is like walking down the road: Walk right side safe, walk left side safe; walk middle and sooner or later, squish like grape. Half-ass it and the battle is already lost, man. Don’t stick your hands in your pockets; don’t look at the ground or hide under the bill of your cap. Mick Jagger can’t sing either, but my God, the man can strut. And don’t mumble — belt that shit out! Be like Chaka Khan — through the fire, to the limit, to the wall!

3.) “Time won’t change me, but I can’t change time,” or: Watch the clock!

We’ll call this one the Midnight Rule. Everyone and his grandmother wants to sing “Sweet Caroline.” Sing it at 9 p.m. before the room is properly lubricated and you come off as a amateur; sing it at 1:30 a.m. — when everyone is shitfaced and getting inappropriate with each other as they sing along — you’re a hero! Other songs that fall into this category include “Brown Eyed Girl,” “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” and the Grease medley.

4.) “Wave ‘em like you just don’t care,” or: Participation is key

Remember, a karaoke performance should be a party — so drag some ladies up on stage and command them to get low! If there’s a call-and-response section of the song, stick your mic in someone’s face and demand that they sing along! This may seem like psychotic behavior in any other circumstance, but I assure you, it’s perfectly acceptable in the karaoke jungle.

In summary, karaoke is about community. It’s about tapping into a shared conscious that is not evident on the surface. It’s about singing “Living on a Prayer” and thinking, “Holy shit, I really get this song!” and making everyone else get it too.

So go, young Padawan. Perfect your art. May you become the greatest karaoke Jedi in the universe.

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July 22, 2010 · 9:50 pm

A tale of two cities: Jackson’s Land of NOD Experiment

Waitaminute, Kevin Barnes and of Montreal are going to be playing in Jackson this weekend? The same Kevin Barnes who is known to ride onstage half-naked on a fucking horse and released an album called The Gay Parade?

In Jackson Michigan? Home of NASCAR and NRA? The same Jackson that was so offended by the prospect of dirty Ludacris rapping his dirty, dirty lyrics at their wholesome-as-apple-pie county fair that they rebuked his invitation and told him to take his dirtiness back to the Dirty South?

Tomorrow, the inaugural Land of NOD Experiment – featuring of Montreal, Tokyo Police Club, Kool Keith (as Dr. Octagon!) and much more — kicks off in the self-proclaimed birthplace of the Republican Party.  Uh, weird. But awesome!

The Land of NOD started as a sideshow of New Orleans’ annual Voodoo Experience, according to this article in the Detroit Free Press. The festival curator, who has ties to the area, decided to go solo and is plunking his schizophrenic show down on a 105-acre parcel of land in Leoni Township.

And what a brilliant mess of a show it is! In addition to the aforementioned acts, other headliners include Josh Homme’s (ex-Queens of the Stone Age) Eagles of Death Metal, house DJ Bad Boy Bill and Trombone Shorty, whose name pretty much speaks for itself. For those who dig the visual arts, you even have Sirena Serpentina, a crazy dance troupe of fire-wielding, belly-dancin’ California yoga women.

Single-day tickets go for $37.50 – not bad given the going rate at large-scale music festivals these days. And like so many other festivals that cater to the drum-circle crowd, Land of NOD offers camping opportunities as well. Better hippies than hipsters, I say.

With Rothbury taking 2010 off and its future in doubt, it’s fantastic to see a truly eclectic and brave music festival in mid-Michigan making such a strong first impression. But it’s hard not to contrast Land of NOD with Common Ground, Lansing’s annual hoedown that takes about as many artistic risks as a Meg Ryan romantic comedy.

I don’t mean to hate on Common Ground (not too much, anyway). But one would assume that an area with the 8th largest student body in the country would come out in droves to see a well-respected indie band (that probably wouldn’t even cost much to bring in). I completely understand that the Lansing demographic demands headliners like Bret Michaels and Alice Cooper. But why not bring in a Titus Andronicus or Deerhunter (or of Montreal!) to headline the second stage? It doesn’t have to be a presumed bank-buster like MIA or Arcade Fire.

I really believe that the Greater Lansing area has the capacity to support cutting-edge bands, and Land of NOD is a great opportunity for mid-Michigan music fans to show what they’re made of. I wish Land of NOD the best of luck, and I hope it’s such a smashing success that Common Ground is forced to stand up from its rock-and-roll rocking chair and take notice.

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July 8, 2010 · 12:25 am

Chainsaws, Cadillac grills and roots rock reggae — it’s Common Ground!

Lansing’s Common Ground Music Festival has a long and storied history of sucking. From dino-rock graybeards to mope-metal thumbsuckers to 90s castoffs to OK-who-the-fuck-let-these-guys-on-the-stage?!, Common Ground is typically a fantastic time for anyone who hates music.

But wait! Last year, things seemed to be moving in the right direction. In an inexplicable move, the Roots graced mid-Michigan with their presence. Everyone in Lansing gained at least one cool percentage point just by being within a 10-mile radius of Questlove. Plus, George Clinton was here! Marky Ramone too! Hell, I can even enjoy Jet from time to time — there’s a band that knows it’s stupid and doesn’t care. I can deal with that.

So, how does the 2010 version stack up? Not great, unfortunately. But we do have the opportunity to catch one living legend in the flesh, along with a handful of morbid curiosities. So if you got nothin’ better to do next week, here’s five acts that may be worth checking out.

5.) Jackyl

Jackyl was a very hairy band of Georgians who played the kind of dumbed-down, misogynistic and stereotypical pop-metal that was so big in the 80s, featuring classy, emotionally complex songs like “She Loves My Cock.” Sounds terrible, right?

No! Because there’s only one Jackyl song that matters — that’s right, Jackyl is the band with the chainsaw solo song. “The Lumberjack” is an awful song in almost every way. Terrible singing, ridiculous lyrics, lame blues riffs. But it has a motherfucking chainsaw solo! Can you play a solo on the chainsaw? I didn’t think so.

So yeah. Jackyl. Chainsaw solo. As they said in the 80s, ’nuff said.

8 p.m. on Monday, July 12 at the Capital Region International Airport stage

4.) Ludacris

The Common Ground website describes him thusly: “Hip-hop superstar. Actor. Entrepreneur. Philanthropist. Restaurateur. Pitchman. Online visionary. Columnist. Multiple Grammy Award winner.”

It’s hard to believe Luda is any of those things, but apparently it’s true! All I know is that he once put out “Southern Hospitality.” That’s good enough for me.

9:30 p.m. on Saturday, July 17 at the Capital Region International Airport stage

3.) Adam Lambert

I don’t think I’ve heard one Adam Lambert song. I do know that he’s super gay and made many middle Americans squirm during American Idol. “My God,” screamed middle America. “What has happened to my American Idol? What happened to wholesome family acts like Clay Aiken? Wait … he’s … he’s gay, too? NOOOOOOO!”

Anyway, Lansing is most definitely middle America. And I don’t know about you, but anything that makes bigots uncomfortable is A-OK with me. I’m hoping for some hot guy-on-guy on-stage action, thereby causing the heads of several hundred Jackyl fans to simultaneously explode.

9:45 p.m. on Tuesday, July 13 at the Capital Region International Airport stage

2.) Bret Michaels

Come on, how can you not root for this guy? Dude’s a diabetic with a heart condition who suffers a massive brain hemmorhage and almost dies. And then, just a few weeks later, he stares death and the Donald in the face by going on the final of Celebrity Apprentice — and wins! A few days after that, he visits the American Idol finale! And now, just a few months later, he’s here to rock our worlds! Amazing. He’s like the rock-and-roll Jesus or something — or at least a less-talented Keith Richards.

Bret, I forgive you for “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” and every other musical abomination you forced upon us. It’s cool, man, it’s cool. When the revolution comes, I want you on my side.

9 p.m. on Thursday, July 15 at the Capital Region International Airport stage

1.) Jimmy Cliff

A couple years ago, I rented The Harder They Come, the classic 70s gangster movie starring Jimmy Cliff about … well, I actually have no idea what the hell it was about, because everybody’s Jamaican patois was so thick. Just try watching that clip. I even had to turn the subtitles on!

It didn’t matter — it was still awesome.

If you haven’t heard Jimmy’s They Harder They Come soundtrack, get thee to iTunes and tell me his vocal performance on “Many Rivers to Cross” isn’t up there with the best of Marvin Gaye. Tell me the title track isn’t one of the great all-time pop songs. Actually, don’t even bother telling me. Because you’d be wrong. And dumb. Sorry :)

9:30 p.m. on Wednesday, July 14 at the Pearl Vision stage

So good on ya, Common Ground, for at the very least bringing an all-time great to your stage. This year’s festival may be a step down from last year, but to be honest, it’ll probably be a good time, anyway.

After all, if you can’t enjoy a chainsaw solo now and then, you probably don’t have a rock-and-roll bone in your body.

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June 26, 2010 · 12:28 am

Recommended local music: Mike Mains and the Branches

I approach any song or band even tangentially connected to Christianity with great trepidation. After all, you remember what Christianity did to Dylan, don’t you? From “Tangled Up In Blue” to “Gotta Serve Somebody” in four short years! How about Jars of Clay? No? Actually, I don’t really remember them either. I know you remember Creed – like a pestilence, the scourge of Scott Stapp shall never leave our collective memories.

Not cool, Christians. Not cool.

I don’t know if Owosso’s Mike Mains and the Branches are a capital-C Christian band, but it doesn’t matter. They don’t take themselves too seriously, rarely prosthelytize, and are often pretty great.

I first heard these guys on Impact 89.9′s excellent local music program The Basement and moseyed over to their Myspace page. Standout “Stereo” begins with a familiar, 90s alternative-style appreggio and an “oh oh oh-oh!” chant that would sound pretty homey on a Hold Steady album. It’s an inauspicious beginning until lead singer Mike Mains enters with a nimble melody and the drums slink into a sick lil’ disco backbeat. Mains admonishes his subject (an immature lover? Non-believer?) to “get some courage, kid” as the song lifts off toward a glorious and affecting refrain: “All I ever wanted to be was in your stereo, that kissed your ears in your sleep.”

It’s true that Mains sounds a lot like Connor Oberst. But unlike Oberst, who often gets by on pure emotion alone, Mains has the ability to kick his voice into a higher gear when the need arises. The chorus of “Rush You” soars and charms like early Coldplay (you know, back before they gave their albums subtitles and wrote songs about the fucking French Revolution). Mains and the Branches may over-rely on verse-chorus-verse structures, but “Rush You” is nicely broken up by a ragged bridge that dissolves into some strangled falsetto over a riff that’s more Foghat than R.E.M. It’s kinda weird and kinda awesome, too.

Capital-C Christian or not, all these songs certainly cry out to be viewed through a prism of Christianity. That means that there are Big Issues all over the place – love, family, death and rebirth, and of course, God. They are not always handled artfully, but there is a current of honesty running through these tracks that’s easy to appreciate. Even “Beneath Water,” the only thing here that approaches heavy-handedness, features a sincere, throat-shredding vocal performance and a few killer lines: “We will ask all the painters if they dress in white/to walk around the streets in the dead of the night/dance like guests at a wedding underneath the lights/look at the buildings and say, ‘I touched that.’”

If you think you’ve heard all this before, you probably have. Mike Mains and the Branches are a very tight outfit with an ear for melody and a debt to 90s emo bands like Jimmy Eat World, the Get-Up Kids and the Promise Ring.

But damn, do they know how to write a chorus. And if you know how to write a chorus, how to pull the strings, how to elicit an emotional response in those of us who live for that sort of thing … well shit, all pop sins can be forgiven quite easily, and transcendence can be achieved.

There’s a very odd lyrical detour at the end of “Stereo.” Instead of Mains singing the chorus to somebody else, he becomes the subject; the one who wants to kiss his ears to sleep is God. It’s jarring and probably shouldn’t work, but the pure exuberance on display pushes it over the top. As Mains’ voice reaches toward the heavens (see what I did there?) he strikes the emotional pay-off: “It’s not the cross that saves, it’s the man who came and wore it,” Mains sings, practically bubbling over. “And he wore it well!”

It’s a genuinely special rock-and-roll moment. May the congregation sing along.

Photo taken from myspace.com/mikemainsandthebranches

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