
Photos courtesy of Greg Notch | photography.notch.org/music


CONTEST ALERT! Win special prizes from the Meat Puppets. We’ll be giving away an amazingly cool autographed poster featuring the LP cover for Meat Puppets II to two lucky winners. Two other winners will receive an autographed CD of the new Meat Puppets LP, Sewn Together, and all of the winners will get a private meet and greet with the Meat Puppets. All you have to do is purchase your ticket for the band’s show at The Bowery Ballroom on Wednesday, November 25th, ONLINE through Ticketmaster.com, and you’ll be entered for a chance to win. The winners will NEED to be at the show to receive their prizes. Existing ticket purchasers will automatically be entered in the drawing. All winners will be notified via e-mail by 6 p.m. next Monday. Good luck.
Eddie Argos of Art Brut is not kidding. That is the first thing to know: He is not kidding. At all. He is a new style of frontman in a new-style rock band, all aimed at being able to kill hype, crush backlash and traffic in an irony so deep that it finds pay-dirt seriousness. On Art Brut’s first record, the appropriately titled Bang Bang Rock & Roll, released in 2005, Argos waxed philosophical about this new approach: “And yes, this is my singing voice/ It’s not irony/ It’s not rock and roll/ We’re just talking to the kids.”
It wasn’t quite Will Ferrell’s Burgundy-isms (“Milk was a bad choice.”)—true statements that end up being funny. Argos was more in the market of convincing us that serious statements could actually be serious again. It was a challenge, how to take potentially ironic lyrics like “Modern art makes me/ Want to rock out” seriously, but anyone who has seen the band live already knows Argos is very much not kidding. Even when he is being funny, taking on the absurd rise of Kings of Leon, you get the sense that his goal is to do something more difficult: Acknowledge the absurdity of rock and roll without sneering at the kids he wants to move. All this manages to make the world safe for humor and straight faces each, but at no point is it a laughing matter. It’s just talking to the kids. —Geoff Nelson
(Art Brut plays Brooklyn Bowl tonight and The Bowery Ballroom on Sunday. See them, above, playing “DC Comics and Chocolate Milkshake,” off their newest disc, Art Brut vs. Satan, in studio for Seattle’s KEXP.)

(Photo: Mina K)
The XX show that sold out Mercury Lounge last night, and then subsequently The Bowery Ballroom, was one for the pretty people. It was a scene, but it was all the better thanks to the eye candy! Pretty people have good taste in music, too. Anyhow, Jon Hopkins, the opener, definitely deserves a mention because his fantastic mixing of melodies and crazy beats was unassuming, yet it totally entranced the jaded hipsters (some of whom even danced!) waiting for the headliners.
It was my first time seeing the XX live, in spite of the number of shows they have played in NYC over the last few months. At the start of their set I thought they sounded a bit forced, almost metronomic, and I kept wanting them to slip up. This distance, however, seems to be a calculated effort. Their seductive vocals are perfectly counterbalanced by the bass and synth beats, so seeing them live is, in the words of a friend, much like a first date—the initial impression is great, but the future potential is all in your imagination. This dynamic creates a very interesting energetic suspension, particularly on songs like “Basic Space,” and their closer, “Stars.” Listeners are drawn to the songs but slightly rebuffed before they can get inside them. Overall, the appeal of a band like the XX is much like the promise of a kiss (or more) at the end of the night—always something to look forward to, whether or not it actually happens. —Anna Loosli
(Jon Hopkins opens for the Asteroids Galaxy Tour tonight at Mercury Lounge.)
Twins Ryan (vocals and guitar) and Gary (bass and vocals) Jarman and their younger brother, Ross (drums), have been playing music together since they were kids in the late ’80s. But they’ve been doing it officially as the Cribs since 2001—although the lineup changed several years later when Gary, a Smiths fan, and Johnny Marr (formerly of the Smiths and currently of Modest Mouse), a Cribs fan, met and decided to collaborate. Eventually Marr, a talented multi-instrumentalist and songwriter, joined the band as a guitarist.
The Cribs’ first album as a foursome, Ignore the Ignorant, came out yesterday, and they’re playing two shows here before heading back to Europe. These lo-fi English rockers have toured heavily since releasing The Cribs five years ago, and their loud and rowdy shows have earned them a bit of a cult following and a loyal fan base, which is probably why Friday’s show is already sold out. But you’re in luck because there are still some tickets available to see the Cribs tomorrow at The Bowery Ballroom.
(Above, the Cribs play “Cheat on Me” in studio for BBC Radio 1.)

Expectations invariably follow Girls. From their emergence on the indie-music scene, San Francisco natives Christopher Owens and JR White have captured imagination and awe. Perhaps it is Owens’s tortured lyrics paired with Girls’ ’60s pop-rock sound, an enigmatic combination to outsiders, but a magnetic force for fans. Or perhaps it is the steady stream of media plaudits for the group’s debut album, Album. Regardless, on Friday at The Bowery Ballroom, a sold-out crowd teemed around the stage to witness the band behind the story.
Real Estate, out of Ridgewood, N.J., opened the show. The quartet delivered washed-out guitar riffs with a cool, breezy feel. Songs like “Black Lake” highlighted the band’s use of muffled melodies to communicate laid-back ease. For their brief yet highly danceable tune “Green River,” Girls’ Owens lent a hand on tambourine. Real Estate has yet to release an LP, but their music is available on two 7-inch records, Fake Blues and Suburban Beverage.
As Girls took to the stage, the crowd immediately requested songs. “Lust for Life!” someone near me shouted. While this kind of heckling may throw off some bands, Owens and Girls never appeared fazed. The band played most of Album’s singles, including a mellowed-out version of “Hellhole Ratrace,” “Lauren Marie” and, yes, even “Lust for Life.” Owens switched between a vintage-style Rickenbacker electric guitar and an acoustic one throughout the show. White, solid and steady on the bass, and the rest of the newly revamped touring band ably backed Owens. Girls gave a solid performance for arguably the most-hyped band around. Owens, in somewhat of an acknowledgement to this fact, responded to an audience member asking, “Are you cold?” with: “I’m smoking hot.” —Jared Levy
Photos courtesy of Jared Levy

The Unicorns were a surprising mix of indie-pop experimentation. They broke all kinds of rules, all while crafting funny, ridiculous, hypertwee adolescent pop. Their first album was a critical success, so they immediately disbanded to reform as th’ Corn Gangg, briefly playing hip-hop covers of Unicorns songs. Following another break up, they returned as Islands, which, as Nick Thorburn constantly reminds interviewers, are forever. Two members remain at the core of all of these projects: Thorburn and Jamie Thompson, whose tumultuous relationship has spawned some of the most endearing and innovative pop songs over the past 10 years.
Islands, known for their onstage theatrics, didn’t disappoint. Dressed in all white, almost Greek-influenced robes with head wreaths, Thorburn headed the forum with a James Brown-inspired, diamond-studded cape. Comfortable onstage, all through “Vapours” he stared down at fans, baptizing them with a push of his hand, swiping their beer or even picking up a notebook left on the edge of the stage and writing the owner a note. There’s an inherent sense of humor to their music that still comes from that experimental place of unorthodox instrumentation and clever lyrics. Who else could passionately deliver “Uncross my arms/To disarm the car bomb/It’s taking too long/Something must be wrong”? Islands are taking their playful formula further and further with each album, becoming more polished, and reintroducing synth and dance rhythms in pursuit of that perfect pop sound. Saving the best for last, they indulged the crowd with “Rough Gem,” which launched the Bowery crowd into a final frenzy of indie-rock proportions. —Jason Dean
Photos courtesy of Mina K
From Baltimore, the place that brought you Omar Little and “The Star Spangled Banner,” comes singer-songwriter Cass McCombs, whose calling card is his distinctive voice, both lyrically and aurally. Prior to actually releasing any music, his dark, funny stories earned him a slot touring with Palace (a Will Oldham—of Bonnie Prince Billy fame—band) and the Oxes, which eventually led to McCombs putting out his debut EP, Not the Way, in 2002. Two LPs followed before he found himself on the road with Modest Mouse. But since releasing his fourth full-length album, Catacombs, in July, McCombs has been the headliner. He’s off to Europe at the end of the month, but before that, he’s playing one last U.S. show, with Acrylics and the Bad Girlfriends, on Monday at The Bowery Ballroom.
(Above, Cass McCombs plays “That’s That” live in studio at KCRW.)

(Photo: Shervin Lainez)
The cover of Thao with the Get Down Stay Down’s newest album features frontwoman Thao hitting a piñata with a cheering crowd behind her (including the rest of the band). Never mind that the piñata is actually an oversize human heart and that there’s blood streaming out where the candy should be. It’s a perfect image for their music, a put-a-smile-on-your-face party. The tone of their Bowery Ballroom show was set before they even hit the stage when the album’s opening 30-second track, “The Clap,” played over the P.A. This was a directive to the crowd: You will clap. Sure enough, the rest of the night was a clap-along, sing-along, fun-filled Festivus.
The key word here is fun, and how could you not have fun with a band name like that? The music was deceptively light and bubbly, riding on a bouncy bass. Thao had a twitchy, kinetic energy with a slight rasp to her voice that was irresistible: It was clear that almost everyone in The Bowery, man and woman, had a crush on the woman and on the music. There is an indistinct ethnicity to the songs, a sort of Euro-Afro-Caribbean combo. This is sexy, flirty music, way groovy without getting too thick.
Before “When We Swam,” Thao explained that the lyric was “Oh, bring your hips” not “open your hips” and had her bandmates demonstrate a hip-centric dance move (“If you do it, you’re gonna get laid!”), then proceeded to flirt, PG-13 style, with her music, tickling her guitar and getting a giggly groove out of it. For the encore, they nearly recreated the album cover with nine people on stage, including members of the stellar opening act, the Portland Cello Project. It was a party, through and through. —A. Stein
San Francisco’s Girls have a well-received new album, Album, out and they’re playing a sold-out show this Friday at The Bowery Ballroom. If you’ve got a thing for these ethereal rockers but weren’t able to get tickets, you’ll be happy to know you can try to Grow a Pair from The House List. Just fill out the form below, listing your name, e-mail address, which show you’re trying to win tickets to (Girls, 11/6) and a brief message telling us why you deserve to spend the night with these Girls. Eddie Bruiser, who’d just like to spend the night with somebody, will notify the winner by noon on Friday, November 6th. Good luck.

Boo!
Halloween is about tricks or treats, but why settle for just one when The Bowery Presents is offering a night filled with plenty of both? Deer Tick is playing the songs of the Sex Pistols at Brooklyn Bowl. And if you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing this band live, you already know that with their three-pronged guitar attack and frontman Jon McCauley snarling Johnny Rotten’s vocals that this will be “Anarchy in the BK” done right.
If the Sex Pistols aren’t your thing, but you still want some classic rock—and who could blame you?—then head to Music Hall of Williamsburg to see Lez Zeppelin. Their tagline is All Girls. All Zeppelin. And these girls are fierce (especially Leesa Squyres as John Bonham)! If you still want covers, but are looking to get down, Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe will be doing a tribute to Michael Jackson at The Bowery Ballroom. And if you like a dance party with a slight political bent, then shake it all night at Terminal 5 with D.C.’s Thievery Corporation.
Of course, there are also other options. If you’re looking for some catchy-and-contemplative music, we’ve got that too: Tegan and Sara at Town Hall. And if good old-fashioned storytelling is your thing, hightail it to The Wellmont Theatre to see the engaging Robert Earl Keen and Todd Snider. And, finally, if you’re looking to check out several bands with some “high-octane punk rock with swagger” then check out Mercury Lounge’s lineup, led by Black Taxi. (Plus, there’s even a costume contest.) Do what you like, but do see some music on Halloween!

Watching Florence Welch sing is like watching any number of acts, absurd in their direction, scope and control. She is a dunk from the foul line, a release of water held furtively behind a dam, the climactic scene of Scent of a Woman. She is mind-blowing. In fact, she may directly oppose every visual metaphor in this paragraph. She is like the Grand Canyon: You’ve either seen it up close, or you haven’t.
Dressed in flowing white, Welch spilled to the stage with her black-clad band, the Machine. Opening with “Two Lungs,” Welch exploded into the chorus. She didn’t need all of the considerable orchestra, including the harp, to vibrate the floor of a completely packed Bowery Ballroom. With the Island Records crew stuffed into the balcony, Welch flitted around the stage, pushing her elbows back and popping her chest out like some mechanical and delicate bird. She repeatedly pointed at us, directly, to emphasize elements of her story, only to cover a smile with her hand. She is emphatic and wilting, if these two things are possible at once.
Welch referring to herself as “Flo,” sang almost every song on her album, Lungs. “Drumming Song” was predictably tribal and elevating, making you think this is the 20-years-later incarnation of Kate Bush. “Cosmic Love” was the best song of the night and closed the set before the encore. Her voice pushed us back in our seats, grabbing the visual to zoom and pan. As much as you try, she is not like anything else. —Geoff Nelson

(Photo: Dan Gillan)
What began as a side project for singer-keyboardist Casey Crescenzo to use as an outlet for music that didn’t quite fit in with his then band, the Receiving End of Sirens, turned into a full-time gig with the more experimental and progressive group the Dear Hunter. Their second full-length studio album, Act III: Life and Death, came out in June, and they’ve been touring ever since. The Dear Hunter plays The Bowery Ballroom tomorrow night, and last week The House List got Crescenzo on the phone so he could answer five questions.
Who are your inspirations outside of the music world?
Terry Gilliam, who’s a director. I grew up on Monty Python. One of my, like, favorite childhood stories is that my dad got to play chess with John Cleese. And he has an awesome joke that I forgot. But, yeah, I mean Monty Python, I loved. I love Terry Gilliam, from movies like Brazil. Brazil’s my favorite movie. Film directors like David Fincher. Who else? Chuck Palahniuk.
What’s the best part of playing New York City?
I don’t know if it’s because getting in and out is such a bitch, but when you actually get there, the audience is very happy, very responsive. The audience is the best part. But also, I think for us, all of our, like, business end of things—our booking agent, our manager, our label—are all in New York. So we get to see them and hang out with them, and that’s a rarity. And that’s also a lot of fun. So the audience, but also seeing all our friends.
What’s your favorite place in New York City to hang out? And do you ever feel like you could live here?
I don’t think I could ever live there. I have such anxiety getting in there. It’s not until we’re parked and inside a venue that I feel even close to stress free. And I walk around and I feel very much like an outsider, like everybody knows that I’m not from there, so I’m not part of the club…. But I really like the area around The Bowery Ballroom.
Do you have to be depressed to write a sad song? Do you have to be in love to write a love song? Is a song better when it really happened to you?
I don’t think you have to be depressed when you’re writing it, but if you haven’t felt depression and you’re writing a sad song, or you’ve never been in love and you’re writing a love song, you’re just estimating. And unless you’re writing about a search for love, it definitely is better when you’ve lived it because otherwise you’re sort of just a stenographer. And I think it’s pretty transparent…. When any emotion is genuine and it’s coming through in music, it’s infinitely more powerful than something contrived.
It’s 4 a.m. and last call has come and gone. What’s your next move?
Last-call drink, I guess it depends: If it’s at that point where you need something to sort of seal the deal, then you have to order some sort of bomb. But if you’re just enjoying the night and you wanna have your one last drink, for me it’s definitely gin and tonic with Bombay or Hendrick’s. But the next move for me, if I’m not already asleep, it’s probably just sleepin’. I’m a really boring guy. —R. Zizmor

Last night’s Bowery Ballroom show boasted an impressive lineup: Thursday, Far and Midnight Masses. The latter is known as a collective of musicians from bands like …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead and Santogold, while Far is known for its highly influential sound and cult following that formed in the ’90s. But the band of the night was definitely Thursday, out of New Brunswick, N.J.
When Thursday played The Bowery just a month ago, they announced that last night’s show would have them playing their entire 2001 Victory Records debut, Full Collapse, the album that took them from playing dingy basements to headlining large tours. From the first chords of the disc’s opener—and unexpected hit single—“Understanding in a Car Crash,” The Bowery Ballroom’s floor was alive with action from the fans. Onstage, singer Geoff Rickly danced around, arms flailing in his perfectly calculated and characteristic way. While it’s a spectacular genre-defining album in its own right, it’s only when played live that the band’s fury is really showcased. “Autobiography of a Nation” and “Cross Out the Eyes” contained blood-curdling yelps and screams that starkly contrasted with the smooth tones of Rickly’s singing voice.
After completing the 42-minute Full Collapse and leaving the stage, Thursday returned to play a handful of songs, including “The Other Side of the Crash/Over and Out (Of Control),” off 2006’s A City by the Light Divided, and “Friends in Armed Forces,” from their most recent release, this year’s Common Existence. Thursday finished by releasing a dozen large black balloons into the air and playing fan favorite “Jet Black New Year.” —Kirsten Housel
(Far plays tonight at Mercury Lounge.)
Photos courtesy of Kirsten Housel

(Photo: Emily Ibarra)
Following a set of ebullient guitar rock by the Temper Trap, the oddly punctuated Portugal. The Man took the stage as Friday’s headliner at The Bowery Ballroom. The band is led by perhaps the second most well known denizen of Wasilla, Alaska, John Gourley, who plays a big-bodied guitar and sings in a high-pitched voice that could be the love child of Neil Young’s pipes and those of Jamiroquai singer Jay Kay.
Sometimes Miles Davis would perform with his back to the audience. And like a lazy Miles Davis, frontman Gourley oddly spent most of the show with his side to the crowd. Fortunately, like with Davis, it didn’t affect his performance in the slightest. Portugal. The Man’s albums all have different sounds, but their fourth studio effort, The Satanic Satanist, out last July, has earned the band plenty of well-deserved attention. So it was no surprise that much of their set highlighted songs from that disc, including “People Say” (with the crowd singing along), “The Sun,” “Do You” and “Mornings.”
Portugal. The Man—at times accompanied by Judy the fiddler— played plenty of upbeat songs, but they can just as easily go darker. Backed by trippy lights, the band turned jammy and ethereal, with their instrumentals delving into the wide psychedelic swath between the Doors’ moodiness and the liveliness of Santana. They seem like the kind of band you could see two nights in a row and it wouldn’t feel like the same show. And that’s a good thing. —R. Zizmor

One of These Guys Is Not in the Band
Not to be confused with Deerhoof, Deerhunter or the Dear Hunter, Deer Tick, led by the ferociously talented, no-longer-mustachioed John McCauley, is a band rooted in Providence, R.I., with a sound rooted somewhere safely below the Mason Dixon Line. They’ve put out two excellent albums—War Elephant is more subdued than its livelier follow-up, Born on Flag Day. But when heard live, the recorded material, like a fine wine, opens up into something bigger. McCauley has an engaging—if not drunken—stage presence, and with his vivid songwriting and lived-in vocals, even when things go off the rails, it’s still raw and real and never manufactured. It’s a refreshing change. And more than that, it’s a lot of fun.
Headlining a CMJ Music Marathon show on Thursday at The Bowery Ballroom, Deer Tick, wearing Jason Vorhees-style goalie masks, finally took the stage at 12:15 and opened with a soulful, a cappella “Dirty Dishes.” “How you doin’ tonight?” asked McCauley, greeting the sold-out crowd. “Yo, tonight rules!” From then on, the band played nearly two hours of original material dotted with plenty of stage banter, a hard-driving version of Bo Diddley’s “Who Do You Love?,” a sped-up, guitar-driven take on Chuck Berry’s “Maybelline” and possibly the first ever appearance of “Air Force Porn,” when a fleet of paper airplanes made from porno-magazine pages descended upon the audience.
Onstage, they guys in Deer Tick smoke, drink and carry on—they even threw glitter and shot Silly String into the crowd. That party atmosphere was infectious—the good kind—which carried over to the concertgoers, who stomped, sang, danced and clapped along. Late in the set, when McCauley invited “everyone who wants to come onstage to come onstage,” the band was joined by at least 30 people who were drunk enough or needy enough to do so. As Deer Tick played “City of Sin” and the rollicking love song “These Old Shoes,” several girls draped themselves across the frontman, who didn’t seem to mind.
After clearing the stage (“I need some alone time”), McCauley performed several songs accompanied by just his guitar and harmonica. When the full band eventually joined him, many in what was left of the crowd pogoed up and down with sparklers held aloft to the strains of Deer Tick’s traditional closer, a cover of “La Bamba.” And then the house lights came on, revealing a floor littered with cups, glitter and porn. —R. Zizmor
(Deer Tick plays the songs of the Sex Pistols on Halloween at Brooklyn Bowl.)
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