crappy cell phone pic by me

Going into last night's Best Coast show, I was thinking how hard it must be for a hyped artist to be touring behind a sophomore album that most everyone agrees is a brick. How do you balance playing the new songs with playing the old ones that the crowd wants to hear? Best Coast balanced their set list by playing 24 songs--which is, like, all of them, but which also only takes an hour because every song is only 2:30 minutes long. And if Bethany Cosentino and band were bothered by the largely lukewarm response to the (admittedly pretty weak) Jon Brion-produced The Only Place, they didn't show it last night. They were friendly and enthusiastic, cracking jokes and praising the Seattle crowd, which was pretty goddamn excited about Best Coast in return.

Cosentino not only praised the Seattle crowd, for its enthusiasm and for its crowd-surfing ("we don't get those"), she told them how much more fun we were than Portland, who she imitated by crossing her arms and standing still, pouting. (Huge cheers here.) Bruno spoke up to share the sentiment--"you guys are like the sweetest crowd ever"--and Cosentino teased that he, like, never talks. Later, she asked if they'd be selling cream cheese dogs out front, because Bruno would eat like 14 of them. Making fun of Portland? Seattle dogs? This was no "Hello, Shelbyville" schtick, these guys had done their research. Hats off.

Between the banter, though, there were the songs.

On record, the defining feature of British experimental electronics duo Demdike Stare is absence--or space. Occasionally, a beat will clatter around their tracks, or a sample echo through, but mostly their songs are full of dark empty spaces, distant ambient sounds, or mild, wind-blowing white noise. Going into seeing them at Black Lodge as part of Second Sight's Psychic Circle festival, the question was: how would they translate their sound to a live room. Would they maintain that sense of space and subtlety? Would they amplify everything into noise?

This was the Demdike Stare's first time playing a "DIY" style venue in the US (the acronym has other connotations int the UK--they'd probably just call it a squat) according to Second Sight/Actual Pain's Thomas Cowgill--with roots in the electronic world, they're apparently more accustomed to playing proper electronic-oriented clubs in Europe--and there was a last-minute problem with some blown tweeters in the PA, which then had to be scrambled and re-rigged. So it's possible that Demdike Stare's show on Saturday was uncommonly loud, ad-hoc, and noisy--or it's possible that the best way they've found to give their music some impact live is to turn it all the way up. Suffice to say, what defined their sound at Black Lodge was sheer physical presence: you didn't feel space in that room, you felt sound smothering you.

Dave Lake

Let me start by saying that if you haven't seen the Seattle Rock Orchestra perform, you really should. It's a unique project that is always impressive and it's populated with some of the best musicians in Seattle. Their latest performance, which played Saturday night and Sunday afternoon at The Moore, was a pair of albums from The Beatles. The one downside to taking on The Beatles is that their catalog is (a) already heavily orchestrated thanks to the genius work of producer George Martin, and (b) there have been a lot of similar orchestral projects over the years. Whereas The Arcade Fire and Radiohead don't translate to a 50-piece orchestra as easily as the Fab Four, that's also part of the reason those SRO performances work so well. The orchestra brought out new dimensions in those bands -- and the same can't be said from hearing The Beatles done similarly.

Dave Lake

Don't feel bad for the Dead Milkmen. Even if They Might Be Giants have had a longer career (what do you want, there's only two of them that have to get along) and even if King Missile's "Detachable Penis" was a bigger hit than "Bitchin' Camaro," the Philly four-piece couldn't have seemed happier to be out on the road playing again, with their sold out Seattle show Friday night at El Corazon being one of just three on the west coast and their first time playing in this city since the mid-'90s.

Cozell Wilson

Meshuggah frontman Jens Kidman

A case could certainly be made for a few other bands, say, Slayer, Mastodon, Slipknot, or a handful of other, slightly less mainstream metal mainstays, but from my--somewhat casual--metal fan standpoint, Meshuggah embodies everything that I've ever hoped a metal band would: their playing is highly technical, but accessible enough to get drawn in to; they don't ruin their sets (or albums) with an overbearing lyrical presence; and they are loud...as hell. The Swedish five piece played seamlessly together last night, sounding every bit as clean as they do on record, and looking every bit as badass as one would hope. If you only got to see one metal show in your lifetime, I'd hope Meshuggah was on that bill. Here's how it went down:

Black Moth Super Rainbow played at Neumos on Tuesday, May 8th. Photo by Greg Franklin.

Black Moth Super Rainbow
Lumerians
Neumos
Tuesday, May 8th, 2012

Sometimes a little mystery goes a long way. Enigmatic almost to a fault, Black Moth Super Rainbow exist in a very unique space that they've created and that they control. The band has performed in masks, crouched and obscured from crowd view, and purposefully avoided interviews and general limelight. Their sound is something of an old science film soundtrack (at least if you were born in the 70's; I have no idea how much science film soundtracks changed in the past couple decades) strained at times through dreamy or creepy elements. Walls of analog keyboards and singer Tobacco's constantly vocoder-ed out vocals are the foundation of the Black Moth Super Rainbow sound.

Live, the band has the capacity to be incredibly enlightening or slightly frustrating. I've seen the band open up for the Flaming Lips and translate incredibly concisely to a stadium crowd, using the natural reverb of a room to make their sound even more spaced out and massive but still remaining tightly focused. I've also seen them play smaller rooms like an art school house party, with folks toking up beside me and the band smiling and feeding off the energy of a smaller room.

Bingo Karaoke Night
Greenwood Senior Center
Friday, April 27

When I heard about Greenwood Senior Center's Bingo Karaoke,notions of cringe-worthy Thanksgivings and awkward family reunions ran wild in my mind. In fact, the event has become a magnet for what we'll call the hipster-bingo set, and become a multi-generational happening in which participants take a break from their number-stamping only to belt out sing-a-long classics. With glitter-happy costumes, Rat Pack loving attendees, beer from Hale's Ales, Polish dogs, and money (gambling for charity-- an irresistible form of altruism), the night proved my qualms completely wrong.

Upon arriving, a volunteer asked if I was "a bingo virgin." Yes, I was indeed a virgin, to Greenwood's Karaoke Bingo. She told me to get ready for bingo-on-steroids.

Inside a packed room evenly made up of grandparents, 50 somethings, and 20 somethings, people are sitting at tables with their drinks, catching up, getting ready for the hilarity of the night to begin. They tell me there's a break from the bingo about every twenty minutes, and people head on stage to pursue their karaoke-needs. I'm now a believer that bingo and karaoke were meant to be wedded--each protects the other from an overdose of embarrassment or boredom.

Dave Lake

At 16, Ben Kweller and his band Radish released their major label debut. Though it failed to catch fire commercially, their alt-rock hit "Little Pink Stars" was catchy and of the moment, and no less a Nirvana rip than anything Bush or Stone Temple Pilots were up to. And besides, Kweller was still in high school. How trailblazing were your high school art projects?

Northern California's Lil B had a lot to live up to last night at Neumos: he's made what seems like hundreds of Youtube videos that capture his "coolness"; he's won the praises of critics across the country; and hey, he just lectured at NYU. For the Based God himself, though, expectations are simply an invitation to act weird--which is to be himself--and as it turns out, he's damn good at it.

That human-shaped white blur in the middle is the sax guy. Trust me.

Last time M83 played Seattle--two back-to-back shows at the now improbably small seeming Neumos--there was one minor but significant thing missing: the saxophone. The saxophone solo on "Midnight City" is without a doubt the most audacious and triumphant moment on all of latest album Hurry Up, We're Dreaming, a bit of glorious cheese that seals the album's tone of unrepentant '80s soundtrack bliss. Live, I wanted to see it played by, like, a three-way chorus of Timmy Cappello, Clarence Clemons (RIP), and Lisa Simpson--which is literally impossible--but there was no sax at all, just a few little added synthesizer blips on that part instead. So even though I felt like Charlie Brown running at the football, I couldn't help but wonder: hitting a bigger venue on the heels of two Coachella performances, would they have expanded the live show? Would there be sax?

Short answer: Yes.