Addressing "legitimacy" in a live electronic performance: The Knife and Matmos

This post serves as a review of two live shows I attended recently - The Knife at Mezzanine on Friday, 2 November; and, Matmos at the Great American Music Hall on Wednesday, 18 October. But it's also an essay about the idea of "legitimacy" in live performances, especially as relates to electronic artists, and a comparison of how these two artists attempted to navigate it - one more successfully than the other.

I'm sometimes asked by friends who are not as obsessed with music as I, why I go to so many live shows. This is usually after I've expressed some displeasure with a show I saw recently, which they've heard me express before - the sound quality was poor, I couldn't hear instrument X, it was like listening to the album only louder. For me there is something potentially electrifying about seeing the music - seeing how it's made, who the people are that made it. I like to watch the guitarist's hands as she pulls beautiful noise out of six strings and a row of pedals. I like to hear the inevitable cracks and arrhythms of the singer's voice. Rarely (given I mostly listen to indie rock... a genre known for its lack of showmanship), there are stage moves or personalities to enhance the music. All of these likes are related to the idea that the musicians are actually creating the music right there, in front of me.

Almost by definition, a live show by an electronic artist is likely to disappoint on these criteria. The singer might well actually sing... but if the only instrument being played is a laptop, it's damn hard to connect the tiny motions to their results; damn hard to imbue somebody hunched over an LCD screen with a personality. I'm overstating the case, obviously - in fact, I think most electronic artists labor under exactly this fear as they plan their live show, that they'll be dismissed as knob twiddlers or (at best) skilled mixers (in the DJ sense).

Obviously this is all needlessly reductive. I've seen plenty of electronic artists deliver great performances. Improvisation becomes more important in this world. And before a "rockist" claims that the machines do all the work of making sure things are properly timed, go see Jamie Lidell weave dense rhythmic sound structures out of nothing but his voice, never missing a beat as he captures one vocalization in a loop and immediately launches into the next. My point is that although this concern about what constitutes "legitimate" performance hangs over electronic artists' heads, there are plenty of examples where they've addressed it head-on.

Matmos' The Rose has Teeth in the Mouth of a Beast is one of my favorite albums this year, and by a long shot is their best to date. Most of the criticisms of these guys contend that their music isn't enjoyable without the novelty of the sounds they sample (shit, semen, cigarettes burning flesh), and furthermore that the concepts behind the songs are impenetrable or poorly executed. These critics reveal more about themselves and their state of mind going into the album then they do the music itself; I don't have to know who Valerie Solanas was, or ponder whether Matmos are paying her tribute or mocking her stridency, to find "Tract for Valerie Solanas" hilarious and brilliant. However, there is some weight to the criticism that Matmos are theoretical/conceptual almost to a fault, and I was curious how this tendency would play itself out in their live show.

The stage was absolutely full of equipment - a piano with lid open and propped up, all manner of percussion, guitars, keyboards, and Drew Daniel's intimidating stack of metal and plastic. There were no fewer than four laptops on stage. The guys were accompanied by three men who beat on guitars, hammered roses to piles of petals on the drums, played bongos, and otherwise generated whatever sounds a given song required. "Solanas" was the first song, and we were treated to a particularly strident and dramatic reading of more of the text by a woman friend of theirs that only increased my awareness of how ridiculous and limited it is. No way is this song meant to be a tribute! Drew busied himself throughout the show between his keyboards and laptops, while M.C. bounced between a keyboard and the piano.

Matmos worked hard to make the show a "performance." A couple of the pieces were accompanied by M.C. doing/creating "live art." There was a completely impenetrable improv piece that involved burning holes into a pillow that was stuffed into a wooden box and capturing the smoke in a thin glass vaccuum tube. (At least I think this is what they were doing - I wasn't close enough to see and relied on the film of it they were projecting to interpret.) M.C. spent a couple of (again) improv pieces either banging on the piano keys or directly plucking the wires inside. Probably most noteworthy, M.C. duct taped an electric clipper to his microphone, and while Drew cued up the wall of wind-tunnel noise that is "Germs Burn for Darby Crash," we got to listen to the hum of the clipper while M.C. shaved Drew's head down to a floppy mohawk. We were needlessly assured beforehand that "what follows is completely staged."

I admit this was all mildly interesting, but it wasn't necessarily entertaining or (here comes that word again) penetrable. Matmos seemed almost not to trust the beauty of their music in its own right, or maybe they really are more caught up in whatever theretical/conceptual framework they've created around it. Frankly, the three best songs of the night were the ones that involved the least performance. In all three cases, the sheer genius and beauty of Drew's programming were sonically front and center. Nor is he simply a knob twiddler... it took me most of the show to figure out that he had one of his keyboards programmed with a variety of squelches, bangs, squeaks, etc. and he was both expertly and sorta randomly hitting those keys throughout the show to add that unsettling layer of "found sound" that can make Matmos so engaging. "Valerie Solanas" was just as hilarious live as on CD. "Roses and Teeth for Ludwig Wittgenstein" was downright amazing - not only did we get Drew's programming at its best, but the visual accompaniment actually worked for this one as the "extra" musicians pounded dozens of roses into piles of petals while M.C. shook a small rattle containing (we can only presume) teeth. The highlight of the night was a seriously improvised take on "Rag for William S. Burroughs." Gone was the narrative structure of the song (no gunshot); instead they started out with the clattering typewriters from the CD version, which slowly turned into a wall of percussion (both struck and synthesized) that kept shifting and turning and building. Overall, these high points balanced out the long (and frankly, boring - something Matmos should never be!) improv pieces. I wouldn't have missed this show for anything, but I might be hesitant to go see them again.

I'd had my expectations for The Knife's live show raised by Pitchfork's Amy Phillips, who described it as "kinda revelatory" and discussed some of the same "legitimacy" issues that I am here. (http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/page/news/2006/11/2 and scroll down a bit - worth checking out for the pictures if nothing else). Well, I don't know about "revelatory," but the show was damn entertaining. The Knife deal with the issue of "legitimate" live performance by basically ignoring it. Their show was all weird/creepy theatre... glowing orange ski masks (Frank the rabbit from Donnie Darko came immediately to mind; they also resembled walking jack-o-lanterns), abstract/mildly disturbing visuals projected onto screens both behind and in front of them, and a large cloth balloon to the left of the stage onto which they projected strangely distorted faces that kept turning into a grinning skull. Karin actually did sing (and her vocals weren't as multitracked as on the album; this did not prevent "The Captain" or "Silent Shout" from being chilling), but they made no pretense that any of the music was being "played." Instead, Olaf goofily danced in front of a (needless?) bank of equipment, on which he occasionally hammered with two giant glowing orange sticks but again didn't even pretend or attempt to be in beat with the music. And y'know what? It worked. Two weeks later "We Share Our Mother's Health" came up on my playlist and my roommate shouted from his room, "Isn't that the song where he had the big glowing sticks?" Yep, that image is pretty much stuck in my head too.

The more I've thought about it since, the more canny I think all of this was on the part of the Dreijer siblings. Let's not pull punches - musically The Knife aren't that distinctive. The only characteristics that separate them from any other house/trance act are the creepy vaguely-Asian tonality, and especially the way multitracking the shit out of Kerin's vocals can make her sound like a horde of banshees, or a pissed-off demon, or the Scandinavian Ice Goddess. If they had attempted to "play it straight," the show would have been pretty boring. But the visuals enhanced the mood of the music, and gave the audience something on which to focus besides thinking, "man, this sounds just like the CD."

And for what it's worth - it didn't sound just like the CD. The remix of "Marble House" that they played trumps the hell out of the album version; they got rid of that annoying faux-Bavarian bounce in the verses but kept the momentum of the choruses. Hell, I even found myself liking "Forest Families," a song I can barely make it through on the album. Sometimes the projected images were a bit distracting (I can't listen to "Like a Pen" now without seeing that strange lumpen humanoid figure from the video with his pencil), especially when they were even slightly non-abstract. But the rotating and increasingly dense "spider web" from "Silent Shout" and especially the... well, what I can only describe as glowing rain drops slowly sliding down a window (which I think accompanied "From Off to On" but I can't remember now) - these managed to enhance the music without competing with it.

Best of all.... none of it meant anything. It was simply entertaining and occasionally abstractly compelling, an approach from which I think Matmos could have benefitted.

So, ratings for these shows:

Matmos: 3 out of 5

The Knife: 4 out of 5

Album Review: Asobi Seksu - Citrus

Rating: 6 out of 10

I swear I wanted to love this album. I've been obsessively playing "Thursday" ever since I downloaded it from Pitchfork's Infinite Mixtape feature over a month ago - often listening to it two or three times a day. Sure, it's Shoegaze v2(K), but the gorgeous melody of Yuki's breathy vocals and the insistent bassline give it an exuberance to which a lot of Shoegaze v1 never aspired. And the musicians don't sit still on this song, but add in fresh layers of shimmer on each new segment (and cannily don't return to that haunting chorus the last time through - so if you want to hear it again, you'll have to play the song again.) "Thursday" has been known to evoke a tear or two when I'm feeling particularly open to it (or caffeinated)... a strong candidate for my favorite song this year.

Unfortunately, most of Citrus doesn't feel quite as fresh. I wish I could make it through this review without mentioning Kitchens of Distinction, but too many of these songs sound like KOD with a female singer. Of course, KOD were always woefully underappreciated, so it's possible a lot of listeners won't know what the hell I'm talking about, and won't find Citrus tainted by mimicry. The stunning similarities have gotten in the way of my sinking into it, however. "Red Sea" is gorgeously hazy and loud, but play it back-to-back with KOD's "Blue Pedal" (from 1990's The Death of Cool) and tell me how - gender of the singer aside - they're substantially different. Same echoey whole notes (in some cases even the same notes!), same frenetic rhythm section, same dynamic build to an extended wall of noise outro. I'll easily grant that "Red Sea" is the better of the two songs (probably my second favorite on the album), but I still can't shake the comparison.

The other standout song is the opener "Strawberries," which actually sounds completely unlike the rest of the album. Yuki's organ is more upfront, and the overall tone is jaunty rather than dreamy. The choruses have an urgent rush to them, and after the second time through the song breaks down to a pulsing climax that's almost shockingly different from the rest of the song, but still feels organically related.

It's pretty much downhill after the epic centerpiece "Red Sea." Yuki's vocal can't save the plodding pace of "Lions and Tigers", "Nefi + Girly" never quite takes off despite some real momentum in the verses, and closer "Mizu Asobi" is, um, cute.

I'm going to see Asobi Seksu next Wednesday, and perhaps the live show will force a re-evaluation. But for now: I don't hate Citrus, and would even recommend it to people younger than me who missed Shoegaze v1. But I'm not blown away by it, either, "Thursday" aside.

Borat; OR: How Part of Me is Still Back on the Theatre Floor Heaving with Laughter

So friends Luke and Kris invited me to see Borat with them. I've read good reviews but also felt a bit hesitant.... but I too often am busy when Kris calls to invite me to something, so I went. I'm still in utter shock. I tried telling my friend Victor about the movie at the gym afterward, and before I was two sentences into my explanation I was beet red, laughing so hard I was crying (thank God the gym was mostly empty... doubtful that was a pretty sight!) And couldn't STOP laughing, or talking about it in this sort of abortive way: "Oh! There's this scene with a chicken... but I won't ruin it for you." Tears streaming, torso heaving...

I like a movie that evokes a response. The most powerful ones tend to be disturbing... like wanting to take a shower after my first time through Requiem for a Dream, or spending the last ten minutes of Dancer in the Dark sobbing. And I rarely like comedies, because too often I find them insulting of my intelligence, or trite, or reliant on sight gags we've all seen before. Well, I have never laughed so hard in my life at a movie. And when I wasn't laughing, my eyebrows were raised so high up on my forehead in disbelief that it started to hurt. All I could keep thinking (when I was capable of thought): "How did he get away with THAT????"

You can read about the movie elsewhere... I did, and I still wasn't prepared. And yes, I freely admit, a couple of the scenes involve some lame slapstick. But even then, what you'll be laughing at isn't the physical humor but the social context in which it occurs.

And, there is a scene in this movie that my ex-boyfriend, who makes some of the raunchiest and most extreme fetish gay porn in the business, wouldn't touch. How this made it onto a major studio's release schedule is inexplicable.

Finally: the biggest reason I strongly advocate anyone who reads this to go see this film is because it will also SCARE you. During the course of his travels, Barat gets informed by honest Americans who have no clue he's not really from Kazakhstan, that "we should still have slaves in this country." The bulk of a rodeo audience cheers when he expresses the hope that George Bush will drink the blood of every Iraqi man, woman, and child. (In all fairness, some of the folks in the audience are visibly distressed by this.) And in one of the most... words fail me. He's at a social function somewhere in the Deep South that has been arranged by an etiquette coach so he can interact with polite society. The house is on Secession Drive. And before the dessert can be served, the black prostitute that he'd phoned earlier shows up unannounced. The not-so-polite side of the society breaks through the cracks of all the genteel faces sitting around the table. I don't even care if it was staged (I'm suspicious about the scene in the bathroom when one of the matrons of the house is teaching him about toilet paper)... it's some of the most incisive social commentary you'll see this year. And it will make you LAUGH.

"You mean the man who tried to insert the rubber fist into my anus was a homosexual?" Oh, God help me... I've fallen and I can't get back up...

Current rotation - early November

Current heavy rotation on my MP3 PLAYER (cuz iPods are evil).

All of these but the last two are available off Pitchfork Media's "Infinite Mixtape" feature, which I finally got around to downloading.

Giddy Motors - "Panzrama". The wickedest shit I've heard since Liars' debut. Jazz/punk fusion, crazy-fucked up time signatures, and the singer is deranged. And it's about a serial killer. Have I mentioned this song is INSANE? I CANNOT WAIT for the album to come out at the end of this month.

Asobi Seksu - "Thursday". Pure gorgeousness, a kissing cousin to both Kitchens of Distinction and the Cocteau Twins. It actually moved me to tears last week. And I'm SEEING THEM November 22 at the Great American Music Hall.

El Perro del Mar - "Party". By all rights I should hate this... mopey chick trying to talk her boyfriend into spending time with her over fairly standard indie strumming. But the vocal is nuanced and manages to convey both her desperation and her sorta-disgust with herself.

Figurines - "The Wonder." A total kickback to early 80s jangle pop (the Feelies should really sue), but it's catchy and switches gears enough to stay interesting. The nasally singer is amusing.

Oxford Collapse - "Please Visit Your National Parks". Yet another kickback, sorta Dumptruck meets Pavement. But the vocalist is totally in on the joke, singing "Oh-E-Oh-E-OHHHH!" and daring you not to laugh.

Beirut - "Postcards from Italy". I swear I resisted this: too precious, too contrived. It still managed to crawl into my head and take up residence. He's like an indie-rock M.I.A., stealing instruments and musical styles from all over the world (okay, all over Europe).

Matmos - "Tract for Valerie Solanos". A woman stridently reads from a feminist/separatist tract about destroying the male sex. The music mocks her but also eggs her on. The sounds of a cow uterus being manipulated, of shit being thrown on a pile, and various other squelches and mysterious squakws, all feature prominently in the mix. You really have to hear it before you'll believe me that it's FUCKING BRILLIANT, and hilarious, and makes me laugh every single time I hear it. I saw them perform this a couple weeks ago at GAMH, and it was one of the two standouts. Drew Daniel is an amazing programmer; I would totally be his disciple. And they're a gay couple from San Francisco!

The Knife - "We Share Our Mother's Health." The musical equivalent of that jigsaw puzzle you just couldn't stop putting together as a kid, over and over, and always feeling a sense of surprise at how the whole emerges from the parts even though you've seen it (heard it) a million times before. It's that minimal, that basic, and still - every time I hear it I feel utterly hit over the head with how FRESH it is. Caught their show Friday night at Mezzanine, and while I'm not quite as overwhelmed as some other folks on the internet have been, it was still visually engaging and just a bit creepy, and totally entertaining.

An introduction to Muses Thrown

Why the name? A heartfelt tribute to one of my all-time favorite bands, Throwing Muses. And, it just sounds cool!

Why I'm blogging. I love music. And, though I don't see enough of them, I also love movies. Except, when I don't love either of them. The point is, I'm critical, and I'm always walking around composing reviews in my head. So have finally decided to get it out of my head and out where other people can comment on it, tell me they agree, or tell me I'm full of shit and why. Also a place for me to record impressions of live shows I attend.

For whom. I anticipate three different audiences (real or imagined) for this blog. One, the most important, other fans (and critics?) of the same artists and movies that I'll be writing about in here. I don't kid myself there'll be many of you at first (or ever?) but hopefully I'll attract some attention from folks who have googled or searched this blog provider for some of those artist/movie names. Two, obviously, my friends and family. (Not to imply y'all are less important than audience #1, just that I know most of you don't share my taste in music!). and, Three, the occasional gay man from BigMuscle.com who wanders over here via my link on that site to see what I've got to say about tunes.

Content. Some of the posts you can expect to read will include: reviews of every new CD I buy. Over time, reviews of older CDs that I love. End-of-year lists. "All-time favorite" lists. Reviews and other musings about live shows. Reviews of movies, both new and old. And, every now and then, a "current rotation" list of new songs I've been listening to a lot.

Necessary caveats. I don't have the resources to purchase even a third of the music I'd like to. Any opinions about music I express in here are hardly "definitive." You'll never catch me using words like "the best" in my lists, since that would imply I'd sampled the full range available. And I still feel a bit sheepish about the idea of offering up my "favorites", for the same reason - the sample size is already small. If I only bought 20 CDs this year, how much cream am I really skimming off the top to tell you what my favorite 10 were? Regardless, this is all hand-waving - perhaps an obvious answer to question #2 above is that I'm also writing this for myself. But hope some others listen in.