NEW MUSIC FOR OLDS #65
Subliminality Achieved
Happy Saturday, dear reader.
Apologies that this week’s NMFO is coming to you nine hours late. I’ve been battling a vicious case of didn’t-feel-like-it. Thankfully, I’ve pulled it together long enough to bring you three groovy new tunes and something resembling a concert review.
On tonight’s docket:
That song from the Olympics!
Breezy morbidity!
Lilith Fair tour bus vibes!
And, glimpses of what the fuck rock and roll is supposed to be about.
Shall we? Yes, we shall.
GOOD STUFF
Here’s that Glossary of Terms you were looking for.
Gojira, w/ Marina Viotti & Victor Le Masne, “Mea Culpa (Ah! Ça ira!)”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: Mea Culpa (Ah! Ça ira!) (Single)
Nutshell: Olympian metal
Voltage: 8
Thoughts: If you watched last month’s Olympic opening ceremony, you already saw this being blasted from the balconies of the Conciergerie, where Marie Antoinette was imprisoned and tried. It was a genuinely cool moment, not just for the spectacle, but that legit heavy rock was getting a global showcase. Metalheads were beaming with pride! I own (and enjoy) a couple of Gojira albums, but they’ve often struck me as a bit one-note. Thankfully, the demands of this particular gig may have helped the band think outside its own box. I’m officially requesting an orchestral Gojira album. Anybody got their email?
Pairing Suggestion: Libertė, egalité, etc.
Laurie Anderson (Feat. ANOHNI), “India And On Down to Australia”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: Amelia (out now)
Nutshell: Atmospheric avant garde
Voltage: 3
Thoughts: Laurie Anderson embodies that niche strain of arthouse cool that lured me to New York City once upon a time—her and John Zorn and Kronos Quartet and the original Knitting Factory…aw man, I’m getting lost in reverie. But if I’m being totally honest, I’ve always appreciated the idea of Anderson more than her recorded output. Sure, I owned Big Science, and “O Superman” was my wedding song1. But I’d hardly say she’s in my regular listening rotation. So I’m a surprised by how much I’m enjoying Amelia, her breezy meditation on the final voyage of Amelia Earhart, using snippets of the doomed aviator’s journal. It’s been my go-to “lying in bed” album these past couple of weeks.
Pairing Suggestion: Lucid dreaming
The Softies, “23rd Birthday”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: The Bed I Made (out now)
Nutshell: Twee bedroom pop
Voltage: 3
Thoughts: The Bed I Made is the first album in 24 years by Northwestern indie pop duo The Softies, but it may as well be a debut, cuz I ain’t ever heard of em! Regardless, I’m smitten with this charmingly slight batch of songs, all of which sound like they were written at 3am on the Lilith Fair tour bus. You’ll likely notice is that one of the guitars on “23rd Birthday” is glaringly out of tune. I’m not sure what went into the decision to not take a another pass, but I’ve come to hear this off-ness as a feature, not a bug. The dissonance gives the tune a woozy quality that balances out the pristine vocal harmonies. The Softies aren’t going to change your life, or even your week. But as a lovely come-down at the end of a rough day? Now we’re talking.
Pairing Suggestion: A warm cup of mint tea on a dreary afternoon
Make ready your clickin’ finger.
NOTE Sat 4/14: I fucked up and accidentally deleted the poll responses. I suck!
Also, I’m thinking of a number. What is it?
(Comments on this week’s songs are also acceptable.)
SOME BULLSHIT
I don’t go to as many live shows as I used to, and fewer still that would qualify as “special”. So I feel very fortunate to have seen Jack White at White Eagle Hall in NJ this past Monday.
I say “fortunate” because White Eagle Hall has a capacity of 800, a fraction of Radio City Music Hall, where I watched White from (extremely) afar in 2012. Also, White’s not doing a traditional “tour” to support this album, just a few scattered club gigs announced days in advance. Luckily, my pal (and QED bartender extraordinaire) Erik is the kind of weirdo to spend hours digitally camped out in a ticket queue. Thanks, sucka!
My historical opinion of Jack White has been all over the map. As recently as four weeks ago, I sung his praises in this very newsletter! But I was never a White Stripes fanatic and he’s elicited a great many eyerolls over the years. I believe the phrase I used in NMFO #63 was “fussy try-hard energy”. But I put this latest album up with anything he’s ever done. Yeah, the guy strikes out from time to time, but when he makes contact, you’re reminded what the fuck rock and roll is supposed to be about.
As you might imagine, the setlist leaned heavily on No Name, which was fine by me. How often can you say that? He also played a Raconteurs song (fussy), a Muddy Waters cover (try-hard) and, a few White Stripes classics during the encore.
I can’t quite describe the feeling that swept across me when the band launched into “Seven Nation Army”. First of all, I didn’t know it was allowed—I assumed the song’s rights had been sold to Soccer Hooligans International, or whatever. As the entire crowd burst into the now-ubiquitous “whoaa-oh-OH-oh-oh-ohhhh-oh”, it occurred to me that it may now be the most widely-known musical phrase in the world2. Not the best, not the most loved—just talking sheer numbers. People may not know the band, they probably don’t know the title, but they know those seven notes.
Seriously, what beats it? Something religious, maybe? Not a national anthem, that’s for sure. The chorus to “Thriller”, in its heyday? I’m asking, here!
“Seven Nation Army” has left the mortal realm and achieved the ultimate artistic distinction: subliminality. And here, fifty feet in front of me, is this guy—just some puny mortal and his faceless band—galavanting through this sacred text, as if he wrote it! Freaky, man.
It was a genuinely transcendent concert moment and I barely even like that song.
At the end-end of the gig, White handed out vinyl copies of No Name from the stage. He lightly tossed the first few to the throng up front. To reach folks further back, he threw the records frisbee-style, transforming them into 180-gram Chinese throwing stars. Maybe it was the THC talking, but I was fully convinced I was about to witness a tragedy. “WHOA NOOOO,” I bellowed instinctively. “SOMEONE IS GOING TO LOSE AN EYE!!”
No one heard me, thank the gods. But trust me when I say that I’ve never felt like a bigger loser.
It was a perfect evening, except for the unfor one undeniable realization: I am officially old and fat and frail and wholly incapable of standing upright for more than three hours. Time to get you home, grandpa!
Also, the dickwad stationed directly in front of me brushed my nose with his stupid spiky hair. Twice.
Not cool, Jack White.
That’s all for today. As always, I thank you for your support!
This joke only works if you click the link.
The so-called “western” part, at least.
Haha great music and I love your Jack White round-up. You're not alone when it comes to being a grandpa at gigs. If the band are still playing close to curfew, I can't help but think of my diminishing bed time.
Aww, seeing The Softies comes up makes my mid-90s tweecore heart sing (softly). If you're not familiar, Rose Melberg's other bands, particularly Tiger Trap and Go Sailor offer a similar vibe with a higher voltage.