why are your shoulders like that of a tired old woman

This blog has been quiet lately for many reasons, but mostly because I'm trying to save money for a major vacation next month. But a friend of a friend of a friend came through with an extra ticket for this sold-out gig, and I peeled off a few dollars to catch the stellar double bill of Neil Finn and Midlake.

Neil Finn/Midlake, Palace of Fine Arts, April 1, 2014: My concert decisions are determined by a tricky algorithm of price, venue, and the ultimate X factor: my levels of mania for the artist in question. On two counts, the Neil Finn/Midlake gig was a bust, but oh, how that last element nagged at me. Neil, as this blog will bear out, is a longtime favorite, and Midlake made one of my most beloved albums of the last 10 years. Before an extra ticket popped up, I was ready to brush off this gig, perhaps in tears.

Luckily, I saved the salt for another day, with an unexpected bonus. The seat turned out to be fantastic: 3rd row center, with a great view of Midlake (more on that later). I have a habit of being lulled to sleep at the Palace of Fine Arts, which is amazingly womblike in its embrace, but I'm starting to suspect it helps to be in a good spot. Honestly, I don't see it happening again anytime soon.



Probably the first thing I noticed about the show was Neil's backing band: six members in all, not including himself. Building on Pajama Club, Sharon Finn took the bass and more than held her own. Neil and Sharon were joined by four other musicians, most of whom looked impossibly young and maybe reminded some of us a little too acutely of how long we've been listening to this man.

Full disclosure: I don't own the new Neil Finn record yet, but as Neil mentioned early on, he now had to the freedom to play songs from his entire discography (or "inventory," as one on-air radio personality said to him earlier that week) -- and he did, though the new songs took up a good chunk of the set. There's no way for me to describe the new songs in a short, sweet sentence, but as you can imagine, they're catchy and effortless, and you can hear the Antipodean rhythms that Neil sometimes explores. I'd forgotten that Dave Fridmann produced the album, and that somewhat psychedelic influence showed as well -- and may have influenced the swirly stage backdrop.

Among the new songs, one tune name-dropped "Game of Thrones" and may have also simply thanked us for coming out tonight. "Dizzy Heights" -- aka the "single" -- was another perfect pop package that deserves to be heard, if it weren't for the travesty that passes for commercial radio programming in the States.

Let's face it, though: When you've recorded nearly 30 years of music, we want to hear the classics, and Neil delivered. He went as far back as "One Step Ahead" and "I Got You" -- as I mentioned to friends, both of which are almost old enough to be Neil's guitarist's parents. I loved hearing "Distant Sun" and "Only Talking Sense," although the former doesn't seem complete without Jon Brion's guitar these days. Neil did nicely on the piano for "Message to My Girl" and "Don't Dream It's Over," and I believe the latter featured lovely backing vocals from Lisa and Jesse. For our part, we tried, but I don't think we did a very good job with "Fall at Your Feet." On that count, I will blame the room. More helpful, the audience pitched in when Neil couldn't remember the second verse of "Try Whistling This," which was a late decision anyway.



Neil being Neil, he let the chit chat flow, commenting on last fall's America's Cup race (clearly, it was a big deal to the Kiwis), engaging with the Mojo photographer snapping away, and bringing in his father, who was Skyping in to the show. As it was still his birthday (92 years old!) in the States, we got to sing to him too, and Neil dedicated "Wherever You Are" to him.

If the show were merely Neil and I had missed it, I probably would've been OK, but it was the announcement of Midlake as the opener that killed me. I don't know why I like Midlake so much compared to, say, Fleet Foxes and the current crop of Beardy Harmonizers™, but hey, the ears want what the ears want.



I've gushed about Midlake in previous posts, and though I wasn't in love with the last record, I've really wanted to check out the latest album (which is great) in performance. Unfortunately, the band has mostly opened for artists I don't care for, and I was out of town when they played their one headlining gig. Their three-year layoff and band drama didn't help either.

About the band drama: Certainly the former lead singer was a huge presence and force in the band, but they've regrouped well, with the second (?) in command stepping up. Singer/guitarist Eric Pulido's presence on vocals and guitar has sure come in handy, to the point you almost don't notice the shift.

Generally, an opening slot wouldn't satisfy, but this wasn't your ordinary warm-up. For one, Neil Finn was the follow-up, and second, we saw Midlake's rare three-person acoustic arrangement -- two treats in all. Talk about win-win!

The room was maybe 25 percent full for Midlake, and even among those gathered, the band's recognition was low. Fortunately, they turned it into an inside joke, repeating their marketing spiel after every song and charming the newbies -- or at least the ones willing to give them a try. Honestly, Midlake is major Mojo/Word/Q fodder and deserves a listen.

The set felt short, even by my greedy standards, perhaps five or six songs in all. They opened with "Young Bride" and came back to "Head Home" later in the set. In between, they did "Antiphon," and at least two more from the new record -- maybe "It's Going Down" and another? Finally, they closed with "I Shall Be Released." I expected "Young Bride," which still bewitches me on a regular basis, but "Head Home" was a surprise. Alas, no "Roscoe," though I think that pops up from time to time at other shows.

Their voices sounded great in the hushed, respectful hall, especially on the new songs built around these specific harmonies. Since I haven't seen their latest electric incarnation, I can't compare this performance to the full-band treatment, except to say I'm even more raring to watch them play again.

Thank you, Neil Finn, for never disappointing and, this time, for bringing along a stellar opening act. Midlake, please come back and play your own gig. New fans might even show up next time.

See also:
» i can teach you, but i have to charge
» you can tell that i'm not lying
» wherever there is comfort, there is pain
» too consumed with this world

due for a change or two

Last month, I promised some eventual variation in the blog. You got it: Midlake's return to the Great American Music Hall in support of their new record The Courage of Others--if, that is, your definition of "new blood" encompasses a band touring behind their third album. If you're just happy that I'm writing about someone other than the usual names, thanks for slogging through, and check back in mid-April for the rundown (I hope) on someone who's a bit of a stranger to these parts.

Midlake, Great American Music Hall, March 4, 2010: I know he isn't reading this, but to the newbie who had no prior knowledge of Midlake but bought a ticket to the concert as part of a friend's birthday celebration: I apologize for snapping at your Jethro Tull comparison. I couldn't have been more insufferable, but you were cool enough to laugh it off. Truthfully, I was just as surprised by the flutes and woodwind instruments as you were by, well, probably the whole gig. Also, if the band turned out not to be your cup of tea, I hope you moved the party to Mitchell Brothers, as suggested.

For those of you who are familiar with the band, please join me in thinking of all the '70s touchstones that apply to Midlake. Got 'em? Now, I'd like to suggest another one: ch-ch-ch-changes. No, I'm not talking about eyeliner, sexual ambiguity, or Mick Ronson; I mean that in the general sense, evidenced by the bushier beards, the longer locks, the two new faces in the lineup, and the huge reproduction of the band's new album cover draped across the back of the stage. (You may recall that the band retired its art films a while ago.) Finally, add to that list one more item: the new sound they're promoting.

As someone who, for a long time, barely listened to any music issued before 1977, I wouldn't have pegged The Trials of Van Occupanther as a potential favorite when it was released, but I fell deeply in love with it, especially its mid-decade groove and ornate arrangements. In fact, if I'd bothered to issue a decade-end retrospective, Van Occupanther surely would've numbered among my dozen or so favorite albums of the past 10 years.

That's a high bar to set, and The Courage of Others has proved more challenging, as the band has reached further back into the era and plumbed more obscure depths. Certainly, I've listened to other groups that have waved the flag for the likes of Fairport Convention and Pentangle (see also: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks), but Midlake may wear those influences more prominently than anyone else in my record collection.

I've been trying to wrap my head around this realignment, but the band threw me for another loop when these pastoral leanings, in their live translations, became almost fully blown prog rock. They didn't shy from it either; the flute was the first instrument we heard, and we even got a couple of duets. Additionally, the electric piano imparted a suspiciously harpsichord-like effect at times. Thankfully, they spared us those other hallmarks of the prog persuasion: lutes, lyres, and overlong drum solos. Whew!



I won't lie: This isn't my favorite musical epoch, and I'm not entirely sold on this direction (see also: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks), but at times, the alchemy of the live show kicked in. From the new album, "Fortune," for example, combined a touch of flute, multiple harmonies, delicate guitar notes, and an ascendant melody in a sweet, succinct tune, and "The Horn" provided a rawking interlude in a set dominated by low-key, measured treatments.



Mixed reactions aside, it was clear to me that this change-up has allowed Midlake to grow in ambition and ability. Their technical mastery has never been in question, even going as far back as their show at Bottom of the Hill, but if you had any complaints about the band's skills, it'd be harder to sustain such gripes in light of their sheer musicality. This was especially evident in the transformation of the old "hits," each of which they graced with reworked intros that revealed themselves slowly and unexpectedly.

For instance, several jolts of electric guitar shot through "Young Bride" before the band hit the song's seductive sway and loping gait, and the entire assemblage worked up "Roscoe" with a wall of--be still my beating heart--five guitars in the prelude to those killer chords. Finally, "Branches" bloomed with an extended bridge in which their new guitarist channeled a young Clapton--in both sound and appearance. At this point, it's anyone's guess where their songs will end up in their next life, but I'll be back to find out.

Also hailing from Denton, Matthew and the Arrogant Sea opened the show with a sound steeped in several influences and inspirations you could probably pick out, but to their credit, their songs were instantly likable and nicely crafted. Texas is hardly lacking in celebrated music cities, but as long as it keeps nurturing the likes of Midlake and Matthew and the Arrogant Sea, Denton could very well join that hallowed list.

See also:
» too consumed with this world
» we like the newness, the newness of all
» top 5 albums of 2006

too consumed with this world

I can't tell you why I gravitate toward certain bands and performers time and time again, and why I'm perfectly content experiencing other artists exactly once (if that), with nary an urge to relive the moment. Of course, it comes down to personal taste--and, likely, my elevated threshold for repetition. But until science weighs in on this affliction, all I know is that Midlake can make another three go-rounds in San Francisco to support The Trials of Van Occupanther (my second-favorite album of 2006), and I'd still line up for each one.

Midlake, Great American Music Hall, September 27, 2007: Though I was born in the '70s, my musical knowledge of the decade doesn't extend much further than the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, a Carpenters album, and the ubiquitous, nauseating radio hits of the time. I chalk that up to the fact that my family and I didn't arrive in the States until 1975, and the cultural acclimation and mastery of language were far from immediate. Sorry to go all Hung Huynh on you there--but woo, Top Chef!

So though Midlake's sound has undeniable roots in that era, it's fairly fresh to my ears. I actually give them some credit for showing me that music of the '70s is, at the least, tolerable and even inspiring.

The influences game, however, has been played to death, so let's move on to more interesting topics. Fans of the band's multimedia show will be disappointed to learn that the mini movies aren't traveling with them this time; I think I read somewhere that the setup was broken. Also, Julie lamented the absence of the papier-mache cougar head, but fortunately, the band's music is strong enough to sustain these losses.

In place of those props, we enjoyed some musical surprises, which are always preferable in my book. In addition to thoroughly traversing the most recent album, they turned their attention to earlier releases, including the self-released debut EP that some (drunk) guy in the audience claimed to have. Bamnan and Slivercork got its due with "The Jungler" and "Balloon Maker," the first featuring an insistent, primal beat worthy of its name.



As with their Bottom of the Hill show, Midlake reprised "Children of the Ground," which sounded a lot more developed six-plus months on. The song list also included "The Pills Won't Help You Now," lead singer Tim Smith's collaboration with the Chemical Brothers. At the Great American, Midlake imparted the tune with a typically bucolic touch and made the song their own in an interpretation that complements the original composition nicely.

But it was the Van Occupanther tracks that we wanted to hear, and the band delivered, even injecting some new arrangements into the mix. "Van Occupanther" and "Bandits" bookended the show, two fine examples of the album's pastoral, unhurried feel. But in between, we got such crowd-pleasers as "Head Home" (requested by some women standing near me, but as it happened, already on the setlist), "We Gathered in Spring," "Roscoe," and my absolute favorite, "Young Bride."

I'm ridiculously suggestible and transparent after a good show, but following this gig, my trigger finger has cued up "Young Bride" at an alarming rate. I singled out the song in my report from Midlake's show in March, but at the Great American, previously unheard aspects jumped out. Of course, that slinky bass line remains the element to beat, but the entire rhythm section distinguished itself at this show.

In fact, this gig reminded me why the Great American Music Hall is my favorite club in the city, even before Eric Pauldino (who Julie thinks looks like Jimi Goodwin, while I prefer to cite his resemblance to Ewan McGregor in Revenge of the Sith) of the band shared his appreciation of the room, even at the expanse of the rooms in Denton, Texas, that had nurtured the group. Bands coming to San Francisco usually aspire to playing the Fillmore, and I can't fault them for that. But as a concert-goer, I look to the Great American Music Hall for the best shows. The sound, the sight lines, the size, the ambiance, even the ticket prices--the Great American has it all. Take any of my preferred bands (Wilco, Arcade Fire, and Beulah, to name just three), and odds are my favorite show I've seen them play was at the Great American.

In Midlake's case, this meant that every nuance of their lush sound came through. For example, they had never struck me as much of a guitar band, but for the first time, I heard charging power chords cutting through the layers of keyboards. At the same time, ephemeral yet essential details, such as those divine harmonies, remained intact. But I'm just being an insufferable nerd; simply, they sounded great.



In addition, I need to mention that the band thanked San Francisco for the support we've lent them. I know the "we love this city" talk is a concert cliche, but as this was the third consecutive show I've attended in the Bay Area where I've heard the same sentiment, I can't help but swell with a little pride.

Maria Taylor and her band opened the show, and the respect and camaraderie flowed between Midlake and her crew, each praising the other from the stage. I saw her former band Azure Ray once and was not impressed at all. In the interim, her work with Crooked Fingers has raised her standing in my book. I wasn't looking forward to her latest incarnation as a solo performer, but she and her crew were, in a word, terrific. Her songs were confident and infectious, and her voice was lovely. The crowd held more then a few fangirls attending expressly to see her, and you could easily figure out why.



See also:
» we like the newness, the newness of all
» top 5 albums of 2006
» in fact, you're fanatical

we like the newness, the newness of all

Noise Pop is an institution in San Francisco, and though I'm not its biggest booster these days, I try to make it to a show or two each year. This time round, Midlake lured me away from my usual musical obsessions and reminded me why I need to check out gigs by up-and-coming bands in the first place.

Midlake, Bottom of the Hill, March 4, 2007: Chief among the likely culprits for my estrangement with Noise Pop: the exhausting roster of opening bands. If I were a reasonable person, I'd show up much later and save myself the trouble of rickety knees, potentially bleeding eardrums, and a compromised attention span. But as anyone who's followed these concert dispatches can tell you, I simply can't do that. Besides, Noise Pop has exposed me to some terrific opening bands I may have otherwise missed, including Beulah (sharing a bill with Guided by Voices) and the band of the hour, Midlake, who dropped by last year with the Flaming Lips.

For me at least, Midlake came out of nowhere that night at Bimbo's. There were no preconceived notions to bat aside; there was no hipster buzz to consider. We concerned ourselves with only the music and the show, and in those regards, they delivered. Though the music bore major references to sounds that came before, it definitely wasn't trying to be the flavor of the day. Instead, they incorporated the timeless qualities that more often than not win me over: a wealth of both melody and harmony, strong musicianship, and artful arrangements, with a healthy dollop of earnestness and longing thrown in.

In turn, these tunes seemed well matched to the movies running in the background; perhaps the songs' lack of irony kept the films from coming across as pretentious or laughable. Regardless, I clearly felt that we were getting the whole package. It certainly didn't feel like Midlake intended to be a flash in the pan.

Cut to a year later, and Midlake has released its second album, earned glowing reviews all over the blogosphere as well as in the U.K. music press, and toured Europe at least twice, with another round of Continental dates scheduled for this spring. Lucky for us, they finally managed to swing by their native States as well. In San Francisco at least, they were rewarded with a sold-out show at Bottom of the Hill.

Unlike last year, I obviously had some expectations before the show began. For one, I've spent a good deal of time with The Trials of Van Occupanther, and I had some context for the songs now. And naturally, I was just curious to see how they handled their success.

The short answer: they seemed to take it on pretty well. Success in the indie rock world is such a relative term; no one in the band's buying Bentleys and grillz just yet. This being Bottom of the Hill, they still set up their own equipment--no biggie there.

They opened with a slow build of "We Gathered in Spring" and proceeded to hit nearly every song from The Trials of Van Occupanther, including the "hits"--well, the anthems: "Roscoe" and "Young Bride," the latter riding on a bass line that made for an especially sultry and hypnotic effect. We got a couple tracks from the first album ("Balloon Maker" and "Some of Them Are Superstitious") and a new tune ("Children of the Ground"), still in progress. The new song showed traces of the influences I cite far too often when it comes to Midlake, so I thank Julie for pointing out the tinge of the Allman Brothers in the sound too.

They played with a quiet confidence, betraying no sign of nerves, and as befits a band who's been touring so extensively for the last year, they sounded completely in sync with one another. I don't think they made any major missteps, despite the potential disaster awaiting them in their numerous instrument swaps. The only halfway noteworthy malfunction was the projector; alas, we were deprived of the video component of their performance. Overall, though, I was left thinking that I definitely want to watch this band's development in the years to come.

Opening this afternoon were (in chronological order) Minmae, Ester Drang, and Minipop. They were all actually pretty good, though they got progressively better as we proceeded up the bill. Minipop, especially, lived up to its name with the kind of jangly guitars and pure pop vocals I could really cozy up to.

Update: Hey, look, someone recorded the show!



See also:
» in fact, you're fanatical
» top 5 albums of 2006

in fact, you're fanatical

I'm finding stray bits of confetti in my bag, my clothes, my apartment, and my cousin's car--and I couldn't be happier. The explanation follows.

The Flaming Lips, Bimbo's 365 Club, March 27, 2006: Back in 1998, the Flaming Lips conducted one of their first Boombox Experiments as part of the Noise Pop Festival at Bimbo's. I recall wanting so badly to go and no one taking up my offer. That gig haunts me to this day. But even if it weren't for those regrets, attending this show was a complete no-brainer.

If you've checked out the Lips in concert at least once since 1999, you kinda know the schtick: fake blood, hand puppets, confetti, balloons, mayhem. And if you were less than enamored with their music, you might not care for the spectacle.

I've seen the Flaming Lips a number of times now, and I'm not one of those people. I've loved the last few albums, the energy of their performances, and maybe those crinkly laugh lines around Wayne Coyne's eyes. Heh. Of course, on the last occasion, I was in my pajamas and surrounded by a gaggle of some of my favorite people at Madison Square Garden. It would be a tough act to follow.

Bimbo's holds about 800 people, and its stage can support a good crowd. For example, it fit all of the New Pornographers and at least another 7 or 8 audience members who had been invited onstage to play air instruments. Thus, I was surprised that the Flaming Lips chose to use only the front 1/4 of the stage, squeezing in not only their equipment but all their accessories as well. In fact, they almost misplaced the nun hand puppet that accompanies Wayne at the end of "Yoshimi." But more on that later.

Before the music began, Wayne welcomed the Noise Pop organizers and an official from the mayor's office, who asked him to read an official proclamation for Noise Pop Week in San Francisco. From there, it was on to the favored Lips opening: "Race for the Prize," complete with all the usual goodies. The balloons, confetti, and streamers rained down on us, and I could only see smiling faces around the room.

They played most of the hits (I could've used more Soft Bulletin, to be honest), a few new songs, and their cover of "War Pigs." We also saw Wayne conducting a jerry-rigged Speak and Spell-like item on which he played the cow and the duck. "Do You Realize" doesn't make me cry anymore, but that doesn't mean I love the song any less. In between tunes, Wayne talked a lot about politics, taking a didactic approach at turns, though I never got the feeling he was speaking down to us.

The Lips are so big these days, and it's been a long time since I've seen them at such close range. But for those of us who like to think that their favorite rock stars are really just normal people, it was pretty cool to watch them not only setting up their own equipment but also checking in with each other between songs.

We took a spot right in front of Steve Drozd, and it became quickly apparent that he is the musical maestro in the band, switching between instruments and adding backing vocals. Steve and Wayne have great chemistry, looking to each other for cues and encouragement. I hope they were having as much fun as we were.

As is the case with most Noise Pop shows, we got three openers. The first was a local DJ. The second was Stardeath and the White Dwarfs, notable for the fact that their singer is Wayne's nephew. Let's just say they wear their lineage proudly. And after them was a band out of Denton, Texas, called Midlake who were truly excellent. They played against a backdrop of film clips, some of them taken from older movies and some of which seemed to be created especially for them. They made the wait for the big headliner very enjoyable.