Thursday, October 11, 2007
THE DEADLY SYNDROME REVIEW ON PITCHFORK!
The Deadly Syndrome
The Ortolan
[Dim Mak; 2007]
Rating: 7.4
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Download it from Emusic
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The Deadly Syndrome are worth keeping an eye on. They've blown through their Silver Lake apprenticeship with a velocity suggesting that Steve Aoki might just be passing them the baton before they go on to even bigger things. On the other hand, it might be too soon for them to come out this strong without raising suspicion; the band came together in 2006 and sound like they spent the previous year absorbing and possibly memorizing mp3 blogs and best-of lists. After two or so years of swallowing variously noxious cocktails of "L.A. has a scene!" hype and internet mythmaking (just the words "Cold War Kids" can clear rooms quicker than that band's vocals), it's probably healthy to say "when" and go back to your usual inability to care about the city.
The Ortolan is a solid defense against associated guilt, but it doesn't always make things easy for your inner cynic. As Chris Richard promises natural sanctity in between the xylophone tapping and rousing chorale that bookend "Eucalyptus", one could choose to see it as a mushy mash note to the past three years of Montreal indie. Certainly it takes a few listens before it establishes itself as the band's wide-ranging vision, as opposed to a match game of conspicuous touchstones. "I Hope I Become A Ghost" plays like a CliffsNotes version of Apologies To The Queen Mary, but it's hard to deny how it ratchets up from a gypsy stalk to barely controlled instrumental speed tests as Richard hovers over the proceedings like the avenger he wishes himself to be.
Besides wielding the now-standard indie instrumentation (squeezebox, glockenspiels, drum machines), the Deadly Syndrome channel their influences by working within a schematic that allows for heavy meditations on mortality and failure to cloak themselves in something caffeinated and keyboard-heavy enough to show off at a house party. It takes a lot of restraint to build a song around an accordion without resorting to seafaring cliché, but "Creature, Creature" is a late-album highlight that does so with the band's typical lack of affectation and memorable riffs. "Emily Paints" has the dots and dashes of techno-free dance rock, but all the while Richards is yelling "Something ain't right!" until his brain scrambles. The same searching quality applies when Richards adopts a broad croon for the crooked rain guitar drizzles of "I Release You" and "Winter In You".
The weak spots come when the band tries to wholly approximate their name-making live performances with codas of stale blues boxing and e-bow sustain; most songs run closer to five minutes than three and a couple of paisley-splattered folk songs make this feel a little too generous for a debut. "Animals Wearing Clothes" is the big mid-album account of the sad human condition, but it's also evidence of how six-minute elephant waltzes built on lyrics like "Die a little every day/ Most of us die that way" are a big part of that very sadness.
The Deadly Syndrome might be more fully-formed than fully-realized, but there's promise in a sense of humor that's often hinted at, notably in the title track which ends the record. After the weighty strums of "This Old Home" comes a Casio dance instrumental that feels more like an introduction to their real-life personality than a capper to an album that's both meditative and a little bombastic. At some point, L.A. might produce its own Funeral or what-have-you, and Deadly Syndrome might be the band to make it, but at the very least they sound like the band that'll have the most fun trying.
The Ortolan
[Dim Mak; 2007]
Rating: 7.4
Buy it from Insound
Download it from Emusic
Digg this article
Add to del.icio.us
The Deadly Syndrome are worth keeping an eye on. They've blown through their Silver Lake apprenticeship with a velocity suggesting that Steve Aoki might just be passing them the baton before they go on to even bigger things. On the other hand, it might be too soon for them to come out this strong without raising suspicion; the band came together in 2006 and sound like they spent the previous year absorbing and possibly memorizing mp3 blogs and best-of lists. After two or so years of swallowing variously noxious cocktails of "L.A. has a scene!" hype and internet mythmaking (just the words "Cold War Kids" can clear rooms quicker than that band's vocals), it's probably healthy to say "when" and go back to your usual inability to care about the city.
The Ortolan is a solid defense against associated guilt, but it doesn't always make things easy for your inner cynic. As Chris Richard promises natural sanctity in between the xylophone tapping and rousing chorale that bookend "Eucalyptus", one could choose to see it as a mushy mash note to the past three years of Montreal indie. Certainly it takes a few listens before it establishes itself as the band's wide-ranging vision, as opposed to a match game of conspicuous touchstones. "I Hope I Become A Ghost" plays like a CliffsNotes version of Apologies To The Queen Mary, but it's hard to deny how it ratchets up from a gypsy stalk to barely controlled instrumental speed tests as Richard hovers over the proceedings like the avenger he wishes himself to be.
Besides wielding the now-standard indie instrumentation (squeezebox, glockenspiels, drum machines), the Deadly Syndrome channel their influences by working within a schematic that allows for heavy meditations on mortality and failure to cloak themselves in something caffeinated and keyboard-heavy enough to show off at a house party. It takes a lot of restraint to build a song around an accordion without resorting to seafaring cliché, but "Creature, Creature" is a late-album highlight that does so with the band's typical lack of affectation and memorable riffs. "Emily Paints" has the dots and dashes of techno-free dance rock, but all the while Richards is yelling "Something ain't right!" until his brain scrambles. The same searching quality applies when Richards adopts a broad croon for the crooked rain guitar drizzles of "I Release You" and "Winter In You".
The weak spots come when the band tries to wholly approximate their name-making live performances with codas of stale blues boxing and e-bow sustain; most songs run closer to five minutes than three and a couple of paisley-splattered folk songs make this feel a little too generous for a debut. "Animals Wearing Clothes" is the big mid-album account of the sad human condition, but it's also evidence of how six-minute elephant waltzes built on lyrics like "Die a little every day/ Most of us die that way" are a big part of that very sadness.
The Deadly Syndrome might be more fully-formed than fully-realized, but there's promise in a sense of humor that's often hinted at, notably in the title track which ends the record. After the weighty strums of "This Old Home" comes a Casio dance instrumental that feels more like an introduction to their real-life personality than a capper to an album that's both meditative and a little bombastic. At some point, L.A. might produce its own Funeral or what-have-you, and Deadly Syndrome might be the band to make it, but at the very least they sound like the band that'll have the most fun trying.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
HALLOWEEN RULES, SLUTS DONT!
There is no reason for a girl to dress up as a sexy ghost because ghosts are dead, bloody, and disgusting (all thats great about Halloween!) Hmmm.. actually, i guess there could be a stripper/hooker ghost. Hmm.. im proving myself wrong here. Uh oh..
Well, anyways you get the point.
Well, anyways you get the point.
i think im starting to write a short story. just dabbling so dont judge.
The rain falls hard onto the black, sticky audience floor. The crew quickly grabs the drum set and keyboards, while water drips down from the velvet, stained curtains that line the stage. The band has quit playing now, the music is silent, the crowd dispersed, but Natalie stands sadly, staring at the skeleton of what was left of the bands presence. Her short, golden hair falls heavy into her blue eyes as she moves to the edge of the stage stepping over concert tickets, beer bottles, and burnt-out cigarettes. She looks cool and mysterious in her black skinny jeans and French beret,but he is not here to see her.
“Music is love in search of a word.” -- Sidonie Gabrielle
What I like at the Moment:
1. The Deadly Syndrome -- The Ortolan
2. Okkervil River -- The Stage Names
3. The Blow -- Paper Television
1. The Deadly Syndrome -- The Ortolan
2. Okkervil River -- The Stage Names
3. The Blow -- Paper Television
One day at a time
I have never really understood the point of blogs. I thought for the longest time that people who wrote blogs were nothing but egotistical assholes (I think that stems from reading Cory Kennedy's blog and others who will not be named). However, after reading and seeing my friends blogs' I realized they are made for good and not malevolence. Yes, I wrote malevolence. I am working on my vocabulary.
*SIDE NOTE I am a bit of a rambler, so if at any time you start to feel dizzy or nauseated from reading this blog, please take a moment to gather your own thoughts because I tend to do that to people.
SO LET THE FUN BEGIN! YEAH!
*SIDE NOTE I am a bit of a rambler, so if at any time you start to feel dizzy or nauseated from reading this blog, please take a moment to gather your own thoughts because I tend to do that to people.
SO LET THE FUN BEGIN! YEAH!
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