Results tagged “troubadour”

The sound of Melody Gardot's voice feels like a swath of dramatic black and white, evoking images of film noir and mint juleps. In describing her demeanor and jazz-tinged music, words such as vamp, moxie, sass, and verve can't help but emerge. However, Gardot's easy delivery has been hard won. Six years ago, when her involvement with music was more of a flirtation, she was struck by a Jeep Cherokee while riding her bike.

Elvis Perkins is back with a brand new sophomore album, Elvis Perkins in Dearland and this time he's ditching the solo act and bringing his band with him. The result is this delightfully eloquent collection of songs about live, love, and death is inspired by the New Orleans tradition of having a raucous band follow a funeral march. We sat down with Perkins before his show at the Troubadour and asked him a few questions about his new EP Doomsday and the end of the world.

       

I feel like I can't help but use a phrase from the lyrics to Brooklyn-based Chairlift's most well-known song to describe how I feel in putting together a write-up of their show this Wednesday night at the Troubadour: "I tried to do handstands for you."

You know that giant, gaping hole in your heart where the new Arcade Fire album should be? Might I suggest filling some of it with Fanfarlo's debut disk Reservoirs. The British six piece outfit stuffs their tunes to the brim with horns, glockenspiels, chimes, violins, guitars, bass, drums, and Balthazar's lovely, haunting vocals. Lyrically the album is all about mysterious misfortunes inspired by ghosts, Howard Hughes, and UFOs, weaving stories that are as intricate as the melodies behind them. We chatted with Simon Balthazar last weekend about the new disk. Here is some of what was said.

The deaths of James Brown or the Wicked Wilson Pickett left a huge gaping hole in the soul universe, but all is not lost Black Joe Lewis is picking up where they left off. Bursting out of Austin with a eight piece set up, Black Joe Lewis and his Honeybears have been drawing fans like flies to a honey jar with their saucy dirty, blues. The songs of their debut album,Tell 'Em What Your Name Is! get to the meat of what life is all about when you're young: being broke ("I'm Broke"), one night stands ("Sugarfoot"), amour ("Bitch, I Love You") and getting down ("Boogie"). Black Joe Lewis was kind enough to talk with us before his show at the Troubadour. Here is some of what was said.

              

The Thermals fit into this bizarre nebulous world that exists between rock and punk. They're a little too brash and uncut for rock and a little too soft for punk . I mean they've got a swan on their drum set for Pete's sake. (On their website their music is described as post-pop-punk, but God knows what that even means.) I would describe it as punk that people can get excited about without fear of a mosh pit or being clocked on the back of the head by a crowd surfer's shoe. Or alternatively, punk that parents would approve of. Sure their lyrics are dark and nihilistic , but hot dang those hooks are catchy.

Holy Jesus and the Mary Chain, Batman! Crocodiles are coming to the Troubadour tonight supporting their two month old, brand spanking new, debut disk, Summer of Hate(Fat Possum). Toting loud fuzzed out guitars, electric drums, and sneering lyrics that knock you breath back, Crocodiles have created a pulsing spaced out noise that will vibrate through your skull for days...in a good way. Brandon Welchez was kind enough to speak with us yesterday by phone. Here is some of what was said.

Calling me from an In n' Out Burger somewhere in Northern California, Lexy Benaim is happy. He's on tour with fellow Brooklynite up and comers Passion Pit, his band has been listed as one of the bands to watch by Paste magazine, and most importantly he's got his hands on some animal fries. Life is pretty good. Harlem Shakes' debut disk, Technicolor Health, is brimming with sunshine and catchy pop hooks without being overly sweet. It's the kind of album you would want on a bike ride along Venice Beach or on a picnic in Griffith Park. Between mouthfuls of fries, Lexy was kind enough to answer some of our probing questions. Harlem Shakes - Sunlight

              

Earlier this month, LA-Underground co-presented a showcase, with KXLU and Manimal Vinyl, at The Smell in Downtown LA, featuring Alexandra Hope, VOICEsVOICEs, EXITMUSIC, and Warpaint.

If you were on an adventure with Indiana Jones, and were in desperate need of a sunny, happy pop album that discusses the dangers of cannibals, dinosaurs, octopi, and volcanoes, the Miniature Tigers' new album might be the one to choose. (Obviously this would be in your down time. It's not the soundtrack you would want for when you were fighting Nazis or sneaking around in tombs.) However, Tell It To The Volcano which was released on Modern Art Records in February might just do the trick for when you were having lunch or getting from one cave to another. Which is not surprising considering the founding members, Charlie Brand and Rick Schaier, cite the jungle imagery in Lost and Indiana Jones as some of their influences when writing this record. Honestly it is surprising there aren't more cannibal ditties out there considering the popularity of both of these cultural icons. Or maybe a few mysterious pop songs about "others"? Just a thought.

Several months ago, rock 'n' roll photographer, Christopher Wray-McCann, had an idea. What would happen if he got some of his musician friends to drop their cell phones, their laptops, and their lives and hole up in Maui in tree houses for a month to record an album? Taking all the equipment they could carry, various members of Maroon 5, Gomez, Phantom Planet and a few other bands agreed and descended upon their new jungle home. Fourteen members of what was now known as, Operation Aloha, created a light, breezy tropical album, which was created captured the spirit of Hawaii without the usual constraints of songwriting and recording.

       

Full disclosure: when I was twelve, I was a hardcore, die-hard Hanson fan. I knew all the lyrics to their debut album, Middle of Nowhere, and so did millions and millions of other prepubescent girls around the nation. Hanson was perfect for twelve year olds. They were young, cute, never sung about anything offensive, and most important of all they wrote and played their own instruments. Unlike the other schlock that was being marketed towards my undeveloped brain like Britney Spears, the Backstreet Boys, and NSYNC, these kids actually had some modicum of authenticity.

       

Looking like a rockabilly dandy with James Dean hair and a Clark Gable mustache, The Tallest Man on Earth otherwise known as Kristian Matsson took the stage last Thursday night looking like the most American Swede I had ever seen. With his neatly rolled up sleeves, tight jeans, and old fashioned shoes, Matsson dressed the part of a troubadour from the early 1960s reminiscent of a young Johnny Cash. So much so that at one point someone yelled out Cash's name for no apparent reason to which Matsson smiled and said, "I think he's dead, sir."

Walking in at the Troubadour that night was like walking into a magic forest glade. I half expected to see sparkling nymphs in gauzy outfits leaping around from behind the concert goers, cackling merrily as they played tag. Perhaps if there had been any absinthe in the place that would be exactly what I saw. Brooklyn's electro pop piece Bell was on stage spreading their musical glitter all over the Troubadour making it sparkle and shine.

              

Rock from the great cold Canadian north conquered the Troubadour Wednesday night, starting off with Vancouver's finest Mother Mother, who took the stage fronted not by one person or even two, but three lead singers.The most obvious of the three was the lead guitarist who looked like a cross between Billy Idol and a storm trooper (and I mean that in a good way) was also dressed in black with a red vest. He was flanked on either side by two women, played the keyboards and synthesizer respectively, looked terrific in their little black dresses.

       

If recently you have had the misfortune of having your heart ripped out and stomped on the floor into little bitty pieces by someone you love, boy have I got an album for you. The young songwriter, Jessica Lea Mayfield and her band played at the Troubadour on Thursday, and man alive, does she ever feel your pain. In a dark purple dress, that matched the vibe of her music, Ms. Mayfield launched into her catalog of woe. False lovers, bad breakups, and the discombobulation one feels when emerging from a long relationship are all covered by Ms. Mayfield in all their gory details. This is an album to listen to when your desolate in your room, watching the rain pour down your window, smoking your fifteenth cigarette, and wondering what the fuck happened. You don't even have to know the lyrics. Ms. Mayfield's mumbling alto is perfect for moaning and holding your head. No enunciation necessary.

I will never forget the strange way in which I discovered the music of Lisa Hannigan. Last summer, I was sitting at work trading listening ideas with a friend over IM. I don't remember which one of us suggested Damien Rice, but his name came up and I typed it into my favorite website of the moment (the now lamentably defunct www.mixwit.com). I remember pinging my friend to ask who the female back-up singer was on the song, but she didn't know so I typed it into Google. The answer -- Lisa Hannigan -- came back quickly, as did a link to her MySpace page which I quickly pasted into my browser.

         

Tonight the Annuals are headlining the Troubadour. Although this North Carolina-based indie/folk/pop six-piece outfit has played some high-profile shows (at Coachella last year, and they've already appeared on Conan twice) they've never headlined a gig here in LA. However, they've been through here a couple times before as a supporting act, most recently in November when they played The Fonda with Minus The Bear. LAist was there and had a chance to get in a few questions with 22 year old lead singer Adam Baker, as well as a couple of the Annuals' biggest fans: Baker's mother (who flew in from North Carolina) and celebrity alt-comic Zach Galifianakis...

       

I went to the Troubadour on Tuesday night on a mission. I was going to try and solve once and for all one of rock n' roll's great mysteries. Why is Razorlight so huge in Europe? Razorlight first emerged on the scene in 2004 with their debut album Up All Night. That album reached number three in the charts in the UK and barely cracked them here despite good reviews. So while in Europe, Razorlight sells out stadiums, in Los Angeles they can still play at the Troubadour.

       

Wednesday night, around 10:30pm Pacific Standard Time, one of the fundamental truths that I had held to be self-evident came crashing down. It is a well-known fact that disco and rock are mortal enemies. Even now Staying Alive and Won't Get Fooled Again cannot be played at the same party, or, if they are, they need at least three songs in between them as a buffer. Throughout the '70s and into the '80s people divided themselves into polyester-clad and the cotton t-shirt-wearing teams. Both sides looked at each other with great disdain and loathing. And what do I find at the Troubadour in 2008, but disco and rock making sweet sweet love to one another on stage taking the form of the bands Hockey and the Virgins? It was heavy, dude.

               

Riding high on a tidal wave of media hype, Little Joy (otherwise known as Fabrizio Moretti's new band or Fab's Band) played for a sold out crowd on Sunday night. Being hailed by critics as the next great rock band and blogged to death as the best thing since sliced bread by Strokes fans, who are biding their time while the band is on hiatus, Little Joy had a lot to live up to. Their self titled debut has even appeared on some pretty fancy Best Album of the Year lists. And did they live up to the hype? No, not even close.

This young moose...er man who is being shot by his band mate is none other than Justin Kennedy the lead singer of Army Navy. Kennedy's history begins in Seattle where he co-lead the band Pinwheel with Ben Gibbard (of Death Cab for Cutie fame.) When Pinwheel came apart, Kennedy headed south to begin again in Los Angeles. Here he put together one of the best brop (brainy pop) outfits in the Southland. His infectious melodies will stick themselves in your head like super glue. They are playing tonight at the Troubadour in support of their stunning debut self-titled album,which was released in October. Mr. Kennedy was kind enough to talk to us yesterday from San Francisco.

       

Who fans in major cities have been trained to keep their ears very close to the ground when the band goes on tour these days, as Pete Townshend’s partner, singer-songwriter Rachel Fuller, has found a unique way to keep herself occupied while tagging along: a live web program called In The Attic, in which Townshend and Fuller’s invited guests get together for spontaneous acoustic jam collaborations, often involving someone’s favorite rarely-performed Who song. They revived the program at the Troubadour on Friday, to promote the forthcoming In The Attic DVD release from Best Buy, and a handful of lucky fans got to witness a truly unique evening.

Photo: Lucy Hamblin

Friday night at The Troubadour featured long-time local favorites Earlimart and UK indie pop/rock group The Wedding Present. And, unexpectedly, Keanu Reeves, sitting up in the VIP session, rocking out to the latter. Earlimart went on right at 9 o'clock, with bright, hypnotic images projected on the wall behind them, which included forests, fields, and underwater sequences. An original Ship Collective band whose offshoots/former members include Great Northern and Silversun Pickups, Earlimart are currently back to the basics: talented founders Aaron Espinoza and Ariana Murray, with a touring drummer. The set included music from their two recent albums Mentor Tormentor and Hymn and Her (Majordomo in Japan), as well as from some oldies like 2004's Trebel and Tremble. Murray is fascinating in her effortless switching from a Christmas-light-strewn keyboard to a low-slung bass guitar, and her mellow vocals are the perfect accompaniment to Espinoza's higher, whispery voice. The combination of Murray's synthesized string sounds and Espinoza's hard-driving guitar are very effective; the dynamics between harder rocking songs like the infectious "Nevermind the Phone Calls" and the pretty "Happy Alone" (reminiscent of Headlights' Kill Them With Kindness) kept the show at a good pace, and is part of what keeps Earlimart interesting and continuously on the radar for indie rock fans, regardless of their lack of a label in the U.S. Steadfast good songwriting refuses to be ignored. Espinoza told the crowd, "You are the reason I live here", and bands like this are the reason many of us live in L.A. (Take that, Pitchfork and Airborne Toxic Event.) Needless to say, it was a very enjoyable set.

          

Written by Shawn Holt

          

The Black Angels area a very serious rock band. They play serious music, they don't smile on stage and they for damn sure do not look like they are having a good time. It's not that they seem bored on stage, it's that they -- either intentionally or unintentionally -- exude cool. It drips from their pulsating rhythms, from their drawn out songs, from their I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck-What-You-Think, I'm-Just-Here-To-Play-'Cause-I-Love-Music look. They aren't the best musicians, they don't put on the greatest show in music but without a doubt, the Black Angels are the coolest band in music today.

British musician Newton Faulkner has been compared with everyone from Eddie Vedder to Jack Johnson, but I think Rolling Stone said it best when they declared, “If Prince was an English hippie who was obsessed with Bobby McFerrin-esque percussion and had long cinnamon dreadlocks, you'd have Faulkner.”

It won’t be apparent when she takes the stage tonight at the Troubadour, but the last time Tift Merritt was on the road, a rigorous year supporting her vibrant 2004 album, Tambourine, it left her so worn out that she fled to Paris to get lost. With no intentions of working but simply to take in the solitude of being a stranger in a country not her own, she nonetheless found herself plucking away melodies on a piano in her rented flat. When she least expected it, Merritt was inspired and songs that would ultimately wind up on her newest release, the intimate and hopeful Another Country, began taking shape. The album's title not only alludes to James Baldwin and Merritt's wish to lose herself in a foreign land, but it also suggests a transcendence of musical genre. In Another Country, Merritt finds freedom both artistic and personal.