The Walkmen and Me, or How ‘You And Me’ turns me into an emo scribe

I suppose I should preface all of this by admitting – I am emo for The Walkmen. By now, I’ve seen them play in every possible scenario: Large Los Angeles concert hall, cramped Austin 6th street bar, alongside the Queen Mary at the All Tomorrows Parties festival, at an all night warehouse rave somewhere in the plains of Texas, various festivals and smoky clubs. I’ve seen them more times than I’ve seen my beloved Radiohead. Hell, I’ve even paid to see them. I have them on I tunes. I have them on CD. I have them on vinyl. I don’t pay for music unless I really, really love them. I love the Walkmen so much I’d marry them (my dowry offer to Ham is ready for review).

Hamilton at All Tomorrow

Coming from a rock chick such as myself, this might surprise you. If you looked at the boys, you wouldn’t even suspect that they can play in a band. No, with their unassuming and sweet looks, you’d think that they work in your office, down the hall in the graphics department; Button down shirts, neatly tucked into jeans and chinos, with a belt of course. Nothing flashier than a simple wedding band or old class ring as bling. No bravado or swagger. But don’t let their prep school appearance fool you. You will be transformed.

Hamilton Leithauser

Long before Vampire weekend or Chester French made preppy chic again, The Walkmen rose from the ashes of two great bands. Hamilton Leithauser, who could be perfectly cast as a‘soc’ in the Outsiders though he has the angst of a greaser, had formed the Recoys in Boston and then joined up with former classmates from the defunct Jonathan Fire Eater. The band members remain close, churning out more than an album’s worth in any recording process, and still finding time for side projects such as recording a cover of Harry Nilsson’s Pussycats, recording a staged reading of Sex And The City (seriously), and co-writing the Great American Novel. Apparently the novel seems to be taking a lot more time than they thought to finish – tell me about it, boys. Tell me about it.

With BOWS AND ARROWS, they had a break out hit with ‘The Rat’, a blistering account of a soul broken by a split. I’ve even heard that it was written about a mutual friend in the Brooklyn indie rock circle, but I decline to name him. Perhaps you can figure it out when you read my forthcoming book (shameless plug).

YOU AND ME, the latest album, unofficially dropped in July in a unique way. With their creative contemporaries such as Radiohead and Trent Reznor offering the music online as a pay what you can scenario, The Walkmen teamed up with Amie Street and offered a download for a $5 donation to Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. So now, if you were going to even think about downloading it illegally, bear in mind that the boys are donating the proceeds to a cancer charity. Even I, who gets her music for free, clicked on paypal for this. An advance of one of the greatest albums of the year – AND I get to help fight cancer? Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

But what exactly is it about The Walkmen that captures my fancy? It’s hard to put a finger on it. Once when posed with the task of describing the sound of The Walkmen, a friend said it sounded like drunken fairy saloon music. I think that is far too passive and sweet a description. It’s more like elfin mad scientists drunk on absinthe turning wooden knobs at a Narnian console.

Their dirge-ish songs alternate in flavor. Sometimes big band, sometimes calypso or country, you are listening to the soundtrack to a weekend in an Irish pub or a stormy Caribbean vacation. Or perhaps this is the music of the underworld that Orfeo’s true love heard when she was stuck on the other side. Lest the sounds get too sweet, the lyrics can be like a thousand little cynical papercuts. “What’s in it for me….I heard you the first time.”, “You’ve got a nerve to be asking a favor…we’ve been through this before.” “I don’t get some people, but I don’t really try.”, and titles like “Revenge wears no wristwatch”, “This job is killing me”, “Everyone who pretended to like me is gone” These reveal a certain callous and unsympathetic look at what once was happy times. I suppose it’s the duality which resonates with me. The inner idealist wrestling with the voice who has seen disappointment – a ‘fuck you’ to over-sentimentality, which by nature is somewhat sentimental.

Ham at SxSW

The show at the Troubadour was all of this and more. The guys, armed with a horn section, took the stage in an un-assuming, modest way, but hit the crowd confidently with a beautiful, ethereal, punk wall of sound. The performance was so startling and arresting, and then lulling and then engaging.

Paul Maroon of The Walkmen

Ham’s voice, an odd yelping cry which wavers between a Bob Dylan call to arms and a raspy Rod Stewart growl is an unique layer a top the swirling Wurlitzer and big band orchestrals. His fist over the mic like an MC, with the cord wrapped tightly around his arm, pulling on it, tourniquet style, he howled and yelped in epileptic fits, accessing and channeling some type of Brando rage.

Hamilton as Brando

There’s a sense of hearkening back when you’re listening in on them. Maybe it’s the vintage gear, or their somewhat formal and almost polite appearance. But one does feel like Hamilton is yearning for a time when people respected each other and did the right thing.

The Walkmen at the Troubadour

Of course nostalgia can be dangerous – looking at the past for those golden moments, and glorifying a time which was most likely the same mix of heaven and hell, is not an enlightened place to start from. But it is the stuff that bar dirges are made of. And old Hollywood movies. And sweeping novels. It is this magical lightning in a bottle, that the Walkmen capture for me. A bit of gilded memory with the somewhat sour taste of the present.

In fact, while listening to their set, this is what the music made me imagine:

The smell of library books. An empty field at twilight. A pork pie hat with a madras plaid band. Mass held at an all boys Catholic boarding school. A black and white Robert Doisneau photograph. The first time reading JD Salinger or Mark Twain. An old Frenchman covering Bob Dylan. A 400 year old pub on the cliffs of Dover. The ignited sugar cube dropped into a glass of illegal absinthe. Dickie Greenleaf in a late night jazz club. A flamenco dance on a honeymoon.

I can only blame The Walkmen and their gorgeous music for making me emoscribe like this. I want to go for a walk in a rainstorm. I want to smoke cloves while watching the sun set. I want to go plant a freaking tree. See? YOU AND ME has turned me into a mushy mess of flowery prose. Who knows? If I keep listening, perhaps I may just finish my Great American Novel.

The Walkmen perform at the Troubadour Friday, August, 22, 2008. Their latest album, You And Me was released on August 19th.

Peanut Butter Wolf’s 888 kicks it at Root Down

It’s not like Peanut Butter Wolf has a lot of time on his hands. The man runs Stones Throw records, in addition to recording, producing, and spinning all over the world. So for Wolf to follow up last year’s 7 days of Heaven with 888: 8 days of music videos at 8 clubs in 8 styles – and no repeats nonetheless – well, god bless him. He’s the Little Prince of scratches.

Thursday night’s set at Root Down at Little Temple Bar in Los Angeles, was to be an hour of hip hop videos. I’ve been Wolf’s little blond shadow this week, following him from club to club. So, I was curious to see what he would break out to wow this crowd of uber hip hop fans. I feared it would be a bit like throwing Wolf to the lions.

With a fervent line snaking around Virgil Avenue, the mood was palpable. These lions wanted beats and wanted them bad. A capacity crowd, which included veteran and legend 9th Wonder, crammed themselves into the tiny room to see what Peanut Butter brought.

As PB stepped up to the mic, the crowd surged forward.

“So far, seven days and I’m here, rocking the same white tee shirt and the same Dodger hat…and I didn’t even know that we got Manny.” A few cheers were heard from fresh Manny Ramirez fans, but the rest of the crowd wanted music.

With a shout out to Dilla to kick things off, Wolf masterfully blended videos new and old, mixing flicks by Snoop Dogg, Wu Tang, and Method Man, with oldies by KRS One and De La Soul. Lest there be neophytes in the audience, he dropped hits by House of Pain, Onyx, and the Beastie Boys, but also broke out MOP, Leaders of the New School, and for the lovers of a high fade, Whistle’s ‘Just Buggin’.

The crowd was brimming with the kind of excitement only seen in kids on Christmas morning…that or the dudes in line at Best Buy the night before the premiere of the new Halo. However, the greatest testament to Wolf’s set was the complete joy on the faces of his peers. 9th Wonder, Jedi and Rhettmatic cheered him on, rapped along and peppered his scratches with shout outs.

Wolf finaled his hour long set with a video by Breakestra, featuring Root Down promoter, and Breakestra founder Music Man Miles. He stopped to mention that though he promised to play all hip hop, Breakestra and DJ Dusk were masterful enough to blend funk, soul, latin and jazz and expand the ears of hip hop fans everywhere. So with that testament and a shout out to Dusk, Dilla and Charizma, Wolf ended with some Ruben Blades.

“Damn, it’s hot in here.” PBW exclaimed as he left the stage. “I think I lost five pounds.” Likewise, the capacity crowd who stayed and sweated to the end, probably lost a combined ton in water weight. But that was just an added bonus to a night of electric sweat on the decks.

Oh and a side note – Wolf wasn’t wearing the actual same white t-shirt for the past 7 days. Just like his week of 888 spinning, Peanut Butter Wolf smells like roses.
Peanut Butter Wolf performs his final night of 888 on Friday. For more details, visit stonesthrow.com

Cassettes Won’t Listen launches a Beat Kanye site – It’s On!

Here’s a throw down for the ages…Cassettes is challenging Mr. West to an internet duel.

We all know how graceful Kanye is under pressure…and since I often enjoy watching egos implode, I highly suggest you log on and help CWL beat Kanye. Plus, it could provoke a “George Bush hates black people” truthiness response…fingers crossed.

Cassettes Won’t Listen Vows To Offer Up Next Album Free If Cassettes Won’t Listen Beats Kanye West

Cassettes Won’t Listen has agreed to to give away his next album for free if he beats Kanye West in the nominations for Best Male Video.  MTV is giving fans the chance to nominate their favorite artists for this year’s Video Music Awards. So far, Cassettes Won’t Listen’s latest video for ‘Paper Float’ is in the running.  So, Cassettes Won’t Listen launched BeatKanye.com, because we know Kanye is a good sport when itcomes to losing awards, so people can cast their vote and help make MTV about great music once again.

And to show he’s serious, Cassettes Won’t Listen is offering his next single for free right now!  Freeze and Explode, which Pop Matters calls “stunning, gorgeous, flawless pop song just explodes off of the speakers, filled with an incredible sense of rising catharsis. It demands your attention, simply because it is one of the best songs that 2008 has produced to date,” will be released in the September with remixes, unreleased b-sides and a brand new video.  But for now, you can download
 
        
Visit BeatKanye.com to view the Paper Float video and
click the ‘VOTE’ link on the left to have your chance at helping beat Kanye West!”

Check out www.beatkanye.com for more info!

DJs and Turntablism – are hipsters and laptops killing the art form?

Hey Mr. DJ, put a record on…no really. I mean a fucking record. you know, those vinyl thingies that old timey people used to play?

While having dinner with Ian last night, the topic of dj culture came up. The electro, hose, nu-rave scene has burst like a serato pinata here in LA, and in NYC as well. Now, I’m always a champion for new music and creative outlets…but it seems to me there is a glut in the market. It’s like that Jack Black joke in the Tenacious D pilot, about aspiring musicians… (paraphrasing) “if you suck, and we ask you to stop, you must stop!” Lately I can’t walk into a bar without screaming FOR THE LOVE OF KRISHNA, PUT THE I POD DOWN!

It seems that with the nightly dance parties in heavy supply, anyone, and I do mean anyone, with a laptop and i tunes is now a DJ. So where does that leave the DJs who have been doing it for years? What does it mean to be a DJ? Is it style? Are you a DJ if you can scratch? Is it substance? Does being a DJ constitute having a good selection and crate digging your heart out? Or can you get by if you get the crowd to dance by playing Thriller and Justice off your Nano? And is it any great feat to get a bunch of kids cracked out on Sparks to sway and slam to a beat? Ugh.

Does a good music producer make for the best DJ? Or is it shiny stickers spelling out your name on the back of your laptop? I’m an on air radio DJ and I spin at some of the local clubs, in between bands. I spin mostly rock and punk, so I don’t get asked to be on the hipster club bills. Does this make me less of a DJ? OK, don’t answer that last question.

Ian mentioned that some of these club promoters/indie label owners/hipsters in American Apparel DJs, have their own booking agent. And big time bookers too. What makes someone pay thousands of dollars to have a specific DJ flown in for a party? Is it name recognition? Does a lot of website party photo ops constitute recognition? Or do you need to be seen walking the red carpet with the Good Charlotte boys? And why do some of these hipster dj duos think that they’re famous?

One unnamed duo, who have recently gotten a bit of local hype, claim that their fame is wearing on them. Heavy is the head that wears the black leather fedora. Woe is the electro boy in a Members Only jacket. Too much fame! How do they get up everyday and lace their free Puma kicks? Now I’m sure you couldn’t pick them out of a line up. Nor are they gracing the covers of any magazines. In fact, if you took them out of the insular LA/NYC scene, no one would know who they are. But they behave that their lazy re-mixes are an art form so great that they should be given the VIP treatment wherever they go. I smile as I wonder how long these ‘famous’ guys would last in a spin off versus someone like Pete Rock.

Which begs the question: Is DJing an art form? What does it take to make something art? By playing someone else’s music, are you then too a musician? How much do you have to change a piece of music to make it your own? How many seconds of a sample can you use in order to patchwork together a song? Is cutting together a track of samples any less artful than editing sound of instruments being played in a studio?

In my moonlighting as a clothing designer for Rock-N-Role, I take vintage cast offs, de-construct them and make them into something new. I consider that designing, but I’m sure the people at Parsons would consider it cheating or whatnot. One of my favorite artists, Banksy, often takes pre-existing works and adds his own cheeky flair. Is that not real art?

If you’re a DJ with your own album out, ala Junkie XL, or Cut Chemist, does that set you apart from the popular kids who speed up a Justice track and call it a new mix? Where does the line get drawn? I believe that the great Steinski is an artist the way he blends together bits and pieces of old movie quotes, Zapruder film audio and beats…but he can’t legally sell The Lessons. So sales and charting can’t be the only measure of a man (or woman).

Someone like Shadow, who can keep a crowd going and has a flair for ‘spinning plates’, certainly earns the respect and worship of many…but is his art form cheapened by an up and comer serato spinner in a hyphy crunk hoodie and neon wayfarers? Or is there room for both?

A lot of the old school dj/turntablists that I’ve interviewed are very careful not to slam serato. “It means I don’t have to carry 80 pounds worth of records on the airplane with me.” said one. But they do say that you can’t polish a turd; meaning if you kill on the decks with 45s, then you’ll be great with serato. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you will still suck. Technology can sink or swim you.

I personally give more respect to the record collectors, or ‘vinyl trekkies’ as Kid Koala calls them. Spending hours and hours at odd hours, digging through dusty crates connotes a certain commitment to the craft, as well as an obvious love for music and sense of musical history. But is any of that important when faced with 200 electro/emo hispters who ‘just wanna dance’? What do you play to those kids…what you like or what they want to hear? And whatever happened to street cred?

I’m just playing hipster’s advocate here, trying to get a discussion going…

…but it seems to me that a lot of these new DJs are in it for fashion…or perhaps because it pays better than working at Urban Outfitters and the hours and drugs are the perks they’re looking for. How many of the new DJS consider what they’re doing an actual craft or career, and how many are just in it to be pimped by Scion or Nylon. If we could send a camera crew to each of their homes, would we find them listening to music in their off hours? I mean really listening to music. Pushing their boundaries and searching for the next sample that will blow our minds.

Speaking of blowing minds, I couldn’t discuss the tables without including this from Kid Koala…he plays a record like it were a violin. And he spins without headphones! If this is an art form, Koala is masterful:

Interviews: A Tribe Called Quest, The Pharcyde, Flogging Molly, Supernatural, DJ Zegon & Squeak E Clean

More interviews, more hot content, more Ali for your eyes to feast on.

A Tribe Called Quest:

The Pharcyde (part one of two):

Supernatural @ Rock The Bells Press Conference:

Flogging Molly (part one of five):

posted with vodpod

Hanging with DJ Zegon and Squeak E Clean at their studio:

Rock The Bells 2008 interviews: The Pharcyde, Murs, A Tribe Called Quest!!!

For whom the rocked bells toll I covered the Rock The Bells press conference yesterday. Legendary line up including the reunion of both De La Soul and A Tribe Called Quest. Look for my interviews with: Pharcyde, A Tribe Called Quest and Murs. Also, I sat down with my new bff, Pete Rock, at his Sessions show. Also spoke to DJ Nu-Mark, Just Blaze and 9th Wonder. Pete is the coolest cat. And Just Blaze is a walking encyclopedia of samples. He has an amazing ear. And you all thought I only knew rock. See you at Coachella… Ali, baller new interview on Urb.com: Three Six Mafia new interviews up on rockremedy.com: Flogging Molly The Cribs Burning Brides State Radio Beat Union Easter Conference Champions Skybombers new interviews up on electromixer.com: Ferry Corsten DJ Nu-Mark Christopher Willits new interviews up on hiphopexclusives.com: (coming soon) Pete Rock DJ Nu-Mark DJ Revolution 9th Wonder Just Blaze Murs Chang Weisman A Tribe Called Quest The Pharcyde

Ali On The Air at SxSw 08 – photo blog

South by So tired!

I attended the SxSw three ring circus, which has expanded to an 8 ring cirque de soleil of hyped hyphy drunk proportions. I took part in the Eastsport media lounge where Vlaze teamed up with Urb magazine, Girlie Action pr, VH-1 Classics and several sponsors. The bands would come in and get some food drink and swag, and then do a sit down interview with yours truly.

Big ups to Jessica and the lovely people at Girlie Action, Josh G. my media mafia partner from Urb Magazine, and Skull Candy who graced my golden head with new pink headphones. I already had a pair of white Skull Candy cans that I use on air at Little Radio, so don’t get all bent out of shape because I have girlish Barbie colored ones now. I can spin vinyl in any color headphones…I’m just that damn talented.

I was so busy working and doing interviews this year, that I unfortunately didn’t get to catch many shows. I have to say, though, that the Body Of War show was amazing. It was the only ‘showcase’ that wasn’t about self promotion, but about a cause. Check out more about the film here.

So I don’t have as many pictures this year, but the ones I do are behind the scenes, side stage or right up front. Quality over quantity, I say.

Hope it helps paint the crazy picture, if you couldn’t go – or remind you of how tired you STILL are, if you did. Thanks to Totally Like Duh and Shadowscene and to all of you who made me laugh.

Interviewing the Von Bondies at the Urb/Vlaze/Eastsport Media Lounge:

Matt Goldman, of Danceright, visits the lounge for some sips and swag

My trusty shooter, Nick, takes a break from filming

The Black Ghosts spin at dusk:

Matt and me at the I Heart Comix party where I interviewed Cut Copy:

The Fluokids from France:

Body Of War show:

American Bang watching at Body Of War:

The guest of honor, Iraq war veteran Tomas Young:

Mason Jennings:

BOW producer Phil Donahue rocking out:

Serj Tankian elects the dead:

I’m now a Ben Harper fan – he was amazing:

Ben is joined by one of my favorite people, Tom Morello:

Scott Igoe from Kimmel & Shirley Halperin at the BOW show:

Billy Bragg stumps for peace:

The Nightwatchman in action. Tom Morello gave me goosebumps:

The flirty UK boys of South at their Bluhammock showcase:

I actually looked forward to time NOT being on camera:

Mingering Mike, Dori Hadar and me at the Ubiquity Records Showcase:

Dori helps Mike set up merch. If you don’t know the amazing story of Mingering Mike, you should!

My personal grail on every road trip – the floaty pen:

Sam and Ze (aka NASA: DJ Squeak E Clean and DJ Zegon) spin at the Urb showcase:

Wale warming up the crowd for GZA at the Urb showcase:

Wale from sidestage:

Food on the road included Sprite with blue and purple cubes of jello in it – I’m suspicious of that kinda fun:

This place was a post office/taxidermist/feed store/bar – but they had an 8×10 of The Donnas hung up:

Travelin’ Cat at a truck stop:

Hopefully he didn’t end up at this truck stop: