Results tagged “concertpreview”

For a little while there it seemed Built to Spill was fading into the background, that the mountain of awesomeness that was their 90s output had become but a memory of a fonder and more Clinton-esque era, and that the dog days of the aughts had put a damper on the six string noodling of the exceptionally liberal and ever-modest Doug Martsch. And then, when the expectations had reached a valley unlike any the band had seen since flannel shirts were all the rage, they dropped on us, seemingly out of nowhere, There Is No Enemy, quite possibly the best BTS release of the decade. This album, from top to bottom, feels like a resurgence of hope for the most famous band from Idaho (Idaho?), and the catchiness and energy of new tunes such as "Good Ol' Boredom" and "Aisle 13" means that it won't just be the old songs getting the crowd fired up. Basically, the show this Saturday night at Stubb's is not one to pass up, even if you've seen the bearded Martsch work his tenor before.

Most people are aware of the work of Dan Auerbach, even if they don't know his name: his much-loved bluesy two-piece, The Black Keys, has played a couple ACLs and been a force in supreme guitar god awesomeness for almost the entirety of this decade. But now, for the first time, Auerbach has recorded an excellent minus-drummer-Patrick-Carney homage to old style rock and soul with Keep It Hid, and though the goin' by his own name thing may imply a solo endeavor, he packs with him the punch of a five-piece outfit, The Fast Five. Truth be told, they are sure to rock out with a seriousness.

The Mohawk offers up a hell of a future-look tonight, as even if the bands on this docket aren't familiar to you yet, give it time: they will be. With a trifold bill featuring not one, but two bands whose debut albums garnered the much sought-after Best New Music designation from the loved or loathed pillar of tastemaking, Pitchfork Media, this is one of those lovely opportunities to go to a show and later brag about it to all the fools who were a step behind. For example, if you saw MGMT at Fun Fun Fun Fest two years ago, when there were about one hundred people in the daytime audience. Surely, a bunch of those people have had ample opportunity for smugness since then, yes? Well, this time, it's The Pains of Being Pure at Heart and Cymbals Eat Guitars with the sky-high post-Vivian Girls raw-sound superpotential, with the promising 8-bit plus band The Depreciation Guild as an added bonus.

Dirty Projectors' new album, Bitte Orca, is a multi-faceted dream of a work: sometimes it feels like a rock album ripped straight from 1974, sometimes it’s an elegant string-supported beauty, sometimes it’s a pop album practically ready for the sweetness of radio, and still even other times it’s an oblique dash through counterintuitive song structures and harmonization. Often, it’s all of those things at once, as for the first time the wizard vision of lead man Dave Longstreth has graduated from mere experimental chops and into full-fledged songs. Put all that together and it gains Dirty Projectors entry into what's been a recent hit parade through Austin, joining such 2009 über-luminaries as Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear, and Bill Callahan at our local venues. While the instrumentation, led by Longstreth’s singular guitar work, is flawless and captivating in its execution, the big draw that makes the Dirty Projectors stand out is the astounding vocal interplay between Amber Coffman and Angel Deradoorian, whose tangling of voices in shocking yet artful ways will be on full display tonight at Red 7.

Anyone who's ever seen Sunset Rubdown live knows that Spencer Krug (Wolf Parade, Swan Lake, every other band you've ever heard of) and crew's mythological, circuitous, and, hell, even byzantine, song structures and brain-busting neuroses play in concert pretty damn well. The last time the Canadian crew did the Mohawk was at an ACL aftershow, and the stoic professionalism and understatement of the band's between-songs approach made all the more stirring the precision execution of their songs, which, in any form, classify as nearly literary in their depth...pretty much, these people are a hair on the smart side, but you wouldn't know it when watching the intensity they pump into their performance. Toss in the fact that they are supporting the newly-released Dragon Slayer, a raw and complex (though less complex than its predecessor, the brutally excellent Random Spirit Lover) peak into one of music's most stunning minds, and Saturday's set at the Mohawk looks to be a standout in what has been an excellent week for concert-goers.

Oh, St. Vincent, how much more talented you seem to be with every passing month. As if your debut album, Marry Me, weren't enough to elicit the swooning of every pasty-faced hipster boy this great nation has to offer, you had to bust loose and break it down with Actor, an album that is harder, more damaged, more demanding, and just plain more rocking than what we'd ever expect. So here's our chance to show our appreciation: tonight, when you'll be ripping your guitar to pieces and embodying a slew of made-up characters all public-style at the Mohawk, where the crowd is sure to be attentive and engaged, and where you'll surely continue building your case as one of music's true up-and-coming dynamos, we can display our gratitude. We mean, what better way to end this American tour, right in Texas where you grew up? There, we can even wish you good luck for your next gig: your NETWORK TELEVISION DEBUT on Letterman this coming Wednesday.

The doe-eyed foursome of Ed Droste, Daniel Rossen, Christopher Bear, and Chris Taylor, better known as Grizzly Bear, have been on nothing less than a carnivorous rampage (haha, get it, BEARS) ever since their sophomore album, 2006's Yellow House, slowly but surely worked its way onto a bevy of best-o'-year lists. And when the band made the ballsy move of debuting an as-yet-unheard "Two Weeks" on Letterman last July, the anticipation for a third album reached absolutely fawning proportions.

Let us put it plainly: this is 2009's 'I saw them when' show. We suspect that in a few years, both of tonight's acts at The Parish Room will be turning up again at Stubb's or the Austin Music Hall, and many will kick themselves for missing the opportunity to catch this double bill of pretty and intelligent pop and Americana.

Anyone who's been to a Dan Deacon show knows that it ain't just any old party. It's a veritable showcase for lunacy in which the undeniably eclectic Deacon buries himself in the crowd and inspires snaking arm tunnels and circular dance routines through the audience, all the while increasing musical tension to a fever pitch. The Baltimore music maven (he has a graduate degree in electro-acoustic and computer music composition) is making tunes unlike anyone else, and despite what sometimes makes for a lack of traditional instrumentation, he's a whirlwind force of repetition and cartoonish weirdness that is impossible not to watch.

Okay, Deerhunter, Deerhunter, Deerhunter. Where oh where do we begin to discuss such a spectacular, unclassifiable, confounding, excellent, inexplicable act? Do we begin with Bradford Cox, the impossibly lanky (read: lanky like crazy lanky) frontman? The frontman who maintains what quite likely is music's most accidentally inflammatory blog, and who puts his ever-honest foot into his mouth on a regular basis? The frontman who has been known to wear sundresses while performing, and is prone to bouts of both joy and breakdown? The frontman who is amazingly generous to his fans, and who is so prolific that he wrote three whole albums this year? Or do we begin with those albums themselves, two of which were released under the Deerhunter name? That Microcastle is practically unquestionable in its quality, and seems likely to find itself near the top of many best-of lists? Or that its companion album, Weird Era Cont., a supposed toss-in, is pretty fine itself? Or do we discuss the very good band, beyond its idiosyncratic lead singer? Or should we just cut the questions altogether and just say we circled this date on the calendar three months ago?

Gang Gang Dance Gang Gang Dance Gang Gang Dance Gang Gang Dance. We mean, when you can say something over and over like that and it seems like the kind of game that is both fun to play and incredibly (incredibly) annoying for anyone else within listening range, how can you possibly not be a part of the party?

We must admit we're impatient and almost painfully curious to see what the fabulous Jersey-nutsos Danielson whip up at the Mohawk this evening. After all, the act has always leaned towards the cultish side, what with everyone taking the last name of lead singer (preacher?) Daniel Smith, whether related to him or not, their regularly matching uniforms, their Sunday school-esque sing-alongs, their in-your-face religiosity, the glassy-eyed what's-in-the-punch joy of it all...when you put all it together, along with the fact that they just released Trying Hartz, a two disc compendium of their back catalog—music that predates their stunning 2006 real world breakthrough album, Ships—it seems like a spectacle far too entrancing to miss, and all of it starting bright and early with doors at 7. Just make sure to bundle up, because it's outside and, if you haven't noticed, outside isn't Texas anymore.

Once upon a time there was but an act named Songs: Ohia, and it was good. Led by midwest mystic and comforting debbie-downer Jason Molina, Songs: Ohia built a legion of dedicated fans on a foundation of archetypal imagery (think factories, trees, seas, night, birds, the color blue, etc.) and painstakingly heartfelt performance. Really, it's hard not to miss the earnest approach of the act, but a few years back Molina—an older and wiser Molina, perhaps worn out on so often being a solo musician, and worn out from writing music on the spare, sorrowful side—decided to retire the Songs: Ohia moniker and embrace a full band of country-ish bohemians under the Magnolia Electric Company nameplate. The result has been an often-rocking, often-joyful, often-classic-rock-y approach to songcraft. All that plus a bunch more awaits the eager beaver this Thursday night at the Mohawk, as Magnolia Electric Company headline a stellar three-deep lineup.

For those of you lucky enough to catch The Magnetic Fields at the Paramount last week, you know there's no doubt the old theatre can hold its own with any of Austin's excellent concert venues. And while it lends itself to a ritzier crowd, to be sure, there's a reason why our fair town has such venues: because without them we may not be able to get acts such as Ray LaMontagne to drop by for a set. The twenty-first century folk icon, known for his raspy and considered vocals and the vigor of his beard, will be the beginning, middle, and end of a show this Saturday night, and chances are it'll be a pretty solid bunch of mid-tempo precision.

So, in case you haven't heard, there's this little performance going on tonight at Emo's. This little sold out show by some mish-masher called Girl Talk. And say you were one of the unfortunate many who slept on buying tickets, and now you're locked out of one of the hottest Monday nights in months. Well, there's no need to fret or weep or pity yourself into your pillow, because you should know there's another option tonight, and it's not sold out, and as a matter of convenience, it's actually in the same venue as the night's "pretty big deal." So, without further ado, your official "next best thing" (or "best thing," if you're one of those who think Girl Talk's a hack, and we know you're out there): Canada's Born Ruffians, with support from fellow countrymen Plants and Animals, will be bringing the sound to Emo's Inside, and, actually, both of these bands are pretty darn swell, even if they do suffer from making their own music on true-to-life instruments.

Wow, we sure have been through a lot, haven't we Cat Power? We were desperate to see your always-impressively-unpredictable behavior way back in April, but then you came down with those vocal chord issues.

WaMu's seven-band Friday lineup is one to be reckoned with, or, if you prefer, it certainly is one with which to reckon. So it is with the fantastic three-headed monster of headliners the stage offers on Day One of Austin City Limits, as tearing up the evening is the widely-acclaimed M. Ward, the widely-eyed Jenny Lewis, and the widely-awesome Antibalas. Of those three, it's difficult to tell which would be the primo attraction, but Antibalas draws the night-ending time slot, and with good reason. The New York ensemble incorporates African rhythms into their horn-driven attack, and their most recent album, last year's Security, is a solid wonder, with track "Beaten Metal" sure to be a much sought-after sound to hear as dusk turns to night. Without a doubt, the energy they are sure to fuel is the ideal way to close off the stage, and at a thoroughly reasonable time of 8:15, thus leaving plenty of time either to wander over to Friday's big-name headliners, or to get the heck out before the Zilker Park exodus becomes too utterly ridiculous.

So this business is going to be LOUD. Let's get that off our chests, and then we'll be able to talk about this show in nice, reasonable voices, like grown adults who aren't going to push each other down on the playground. You know, if that's even possible, given the fact that talking about Mogwai—Scotland's renowned post-rock trendsetters and masters of the indomitable loud-soft dynamic—almost begs a person to scream and shout and knock shit around. Toss in the possibility that they are the less torrential of the two acts on this bill, and you should probably consider earplugs and a flak jacket. But really, that's just how much fun you're going to have, because people on MoPac are going to be able to hear this night at Stubb's.

You've gotta love a kickass show on a Monday night—you know you're actually going to be able to find parking, it won't be disgustingly overcrowded, and you may actually be able to get close to the stage without being a total jerk or setting up camp in the middle of the afternoon. And tonight provides us with quite the little gem: Oakland's Why?, a band whose maturation has resulted in one of the best albums so far in 2008, and Mt. Eerie, a Phil Elverum (of Microphones fame) project now featuring the added talents of Julie Doiron and Fred Squire. Yes, yes, it's going to be quite the evening, and for the embarrassingly economical cost of eight bucks.

Shearwater sure has built themselves a little sea swell of fanhood and critical approval these past few months, and it's no surprise. Since frontman Jonathan Meiburg—the man with the super-big voice—made the executive decision that his days in established local faves Okkervil River had to end, the added focus on Shearwater has allowed the band to release a widely-praised LP, Rooks, not to mention tour the country like bandits. By making music that is not even remotely afraid of the dramatic, Meiburg, along with Kimberly Burke and the Austin ever-present personality Thor Harris, has drawn fawning comparisons to eighties pillars of profundity Talk Talk, and have made sure that they are a band to be reckoned with, not only on album but with their big-sound live shows.

Every now and then there's a secret prize attached to a headliner, and you've got to dig a little bit to find it. And so it is with this show, as opening act Love as Laughter make this concert a must-see opportunity to pay homage to one of the last fifteen years' most consistently satisfying—not to mention influential—independent acts.

It's always a sad thing when an old friend stops hanging out. And that's the sentiment sure to be held this Thursday night as Brazos, one of Austin's most solid acts the past few years, hangs up their skins and axes for good. But let's not be too sad for them—the reason for their untimely departure from the Austin scene is that the drummer got into Harvard. Harvard! But really, their nearly flawless approach to pop-folk-rock (the band has existed for only a few years, but they play together like seasoned veterans) will be missed. But don't lose too much sleep—though the drummer will be departing for cooler climes, the rest of the band is sticking around, and new homes surely will be found for the tunes the remaining members write.

One of Austin's most dynamic acts, Black Joe Lewis has been blazing a trail for local blues artists these past few years, and we're lucky enough to get another shot at seeing him live tomorrow night at the Parish Room, one of Sixth Street's cozier and more acoustically friendly venues. Lewis and his band, The Honeybears, use lyrics such as "You can make a Black Joe blue," not to mention a palpable passion and awareness of how they fit into the history of blues and soul music, to make themselves a consistently entertaining ticket. On top of all that, our friend Lewis is endorsed by Barack Obama.

Last time Thao Nguyen was in town, she was the opening act for Xiu Xiu, and it couldn't seem like a stranger pairing. Thao, with her bubbling, strumming, child-like pop, offered about as startling a juxtaposition as possible to Xiu Xiu's fitfully emotional and generally traumatized approach—in a way, it was like all of the good childhood memories gone terribly, horribly awry. Since then, Thao and her band have solidified their presence in the minds of music fans, as their most recent album, We Brave Bee Stings and All, has managed to stand up to the test of a little time. So on this visit to Austin, Thao, who has graduated to "unquestioned headliner," has a more sensible tour partner in Horse Feathers, and the two stunning acts will be making Wednesday night at Emo's about at satisfying as possible.

When you wake up in the morning and decide it's time for a nice, warm dose of clever bandname wordplay, look no further than indie poppers Dear and the Headlights to find your fix. The Arizonan quintet have been building a steady stream of slow-building momentum this past year, and their very Okkervil Riverian sound will discover a wider audience with the release of their new LP—the aptly-named Drunk Like Bible Times—this September 30th. But, before that ultimate date, they'll be showing off some of their new wares, and knocking over tables in the temple, at Stubb's tonight.

Oh, we see—you didn't know Billy Bob had a band. You were probably more familiar with his turns in film, you know, that little flick he had called Sling Blade? It won some awards, right? And what about Bandits, or Monster's Ball? Maybe even Bad Santa rings a bell? But, regardless of whether you remember that particular piece of filmic glory or not, surely you recall his star turn aside Angelina Jolie, the one where he played Angelina Jolie's husband. There was word about them wearing vials of each other's blood around their necks, and the adoption of a child from Cambodia—an act which ostensibly set running the trend of Hollywood child-collecting. There also was an epidemic of questions such as "Angelina Jolie is married to him?" BUT ALL THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT. Tonight, at Stubb's, we get to hear Thornton's musical side, as he and his band The Boxmasters lay down some tunes.

It's quite the shame that this is Maneja Beto's last live show of 2008, but everyone should be grateful they let us know so we don't have to miss it. The always-enjoyable quintet sure has carved themselves quite a nice little niche in the Austin music scene, and their dignified and eclectic presence—they have been delighting crowds since way back in 2002—makes them one of the few local bands which appeals to most all of Austin's diverse population. Their indie-en-español arrives with no shortage of energy, and they use everything from organs to cello to craft an intriguing mix of modern pop and Tejano. The quintet's music has matured over the years, but their live show is still a bonafide ticket to an fun evening, so make sure not to miss out, because it may be awhile before you get another chance.

By now it should be apparent that we at the Austinist think that Fleet Foxes are absolutely, 100% badass. After all, in the last three months we've touted the excellence of not only their eponymous debut LP, but also have we waxed eloquent on their Sun Giant EP—reading those reviews makes it pretty clear that this is a band whose return to Austin falls into the highly-anticipated category. Simply said, preceding this quintet is a reputation as a throwback to kinder, less electronic musical times, and they have garnered critical acclaim far and wide not only for their studio work, but also for their consistently-satisfying live show. The modest northwesterners use cascades of vocal harmonizing, led by talented frontman Robin Pecknold, and well-arranged instrumentation to make them a group more than worthy of Mohawk's hump day headline.

Los Angeles, for all its immensity, is one of the few American cities which can truly be said to have its own, isolated identity. And we'll be able to get a nice taste of that tonight, as The City of Angels attacks Austin with a couple of the best bands that freakishly large city has to offer. Headlining is No Age, whose recently released sophomore LP, Nouns, has been lauded far and wide as one of the year's top albums. No Age is the brainchild of dynamic duo Randy Randall and Dean Allen Spunt, who use their exceptional names to craft churning lo-fidelity punk music that inspires critical analysis rather than mere dancefloor spasmosis—consider this the thinking person's punk rock.

It's always nice when the opportunity to catch a little stand-up comedy with your tunes presents itself, and, with a revamped format for Bonnaroo, as well as our very own Fun Fun Fun Fest, the idea of pairing these two very different but equally awesome forms of entertainment is becoming more common. Tonight we see this new era of show-going in action as The Fuck Yeah Tour, more politely known as the F Yeah Tour, rumbles into the Mohawk with an intriguing mix of music, spoken word, and comedy.