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Swedish Extraterrestrials Descend on Music Hall of Williamsburg

April 24th, 2013

Goat – Music Hall of Williamsburg – April 23, 2013

The backstory on Goat is that they’re from some isolated region of Sweden, but after watching the great cosmic freak-out that is their live show Tuesday night at Music Hall of Williamsburg, I’m not so sure that isn’t some sort of elaborate cover story for actually being a bunch of extraterrestrials here to rearrange our brains. The band, their music and the buzz surrounding them seemed to all appear at once in some kind of spontaneous combustion some time last year adding to my conspiracy theory. The coup de grâce, though, was how the entire group appeared onstage with masks on, fully dressed for some psychedelic costume party, hiding something.

Once they started playing, though, each instrument jumping in one at a time, the sold-out crowd wasn’t too concerned with Goat’s origins. The music was largely from last year’s World Music album, which is an apt title: Their show was like these aliens had swallowed the planet whole—the people, their music, their clothing, their cultures—and then regurgitated it in mind-numbing musical form. The result was Indian raga crossed with Afrobeat and Native American tribal rhythms through some sort of Black Sabbath-meets-the-Grateful-Dead rock and roll lens. In a word: Whoa!

The set was 60 minutes of relentless activity, the crowd alternating between funk-night boogie, arms-raised raging and eyes-closed beatification. Most pieces opened into an extended instrumental jam, guitars, bass, drums and congas reaching some interplanetary spot. As awe-inspiring as these forays were, the keys to the operation, surprisingly, were the two ladies up front who sang, undulated, danced and maraca-ed their way across the stage in constant motion. Their voices brought form to the songs, their percussive flourishes were the imported finery the music was draped in, their movement rooted the audience to terra firma, lest our bodies join our minds on the mother ship, to be taken back to that spot in Scandinavia, or whatever planet Goat call home. —A. Stein

Tags: Black Sabbath, Goat, Grateful Dead, Music Hall of Williamsburg, Review, World Music
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After Midnight, We’re Gonna Let It All Hang Down

December 31st, 2012

Alex Bleeker and the Freaks/Prince Rupert’s Drops – Mercury Lounge – December 29, 2012

Alex Bleeker and the Freaks

There’s an old “Your father used to tell you” saying: “Nothing good happens after midnight.” But I think we can all agree that’s demonstrably false. Take Saturday’s late-night after-party double bill at Mercury Lounge put on by Dog Gone Blog for those coming from earlier shows. This one was an extrasensory delight with old school projector and Day-Glo liquid light show and some deep, mind-altering psychedelic music. First up, Prince Rupert’s Drops played music from their excellent debut album, Run Slow. The pulsing colors behind the band nicely matched the music, strong candy-coated pop one moment—like the single-ready “Almond Man”—and then stretched out taffy-like, with jams like the title track lasting the better part of 10 minutes, the next.

Finishing the night, Alex Bleeker and the Freaks played a decidedly open-ended set with perfectly pitched ambient late-night groove instrumentals mixing with some crowd-pleasing covers. The wee morning suited Bleeker and Co. well: It was as good as I’ve seen them play, nailing a rocking “Sweet Virginia” and a great “Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo.” But the highlight was a cover of Phish’s “Bathtub Gin,” which launched a long, coherent space jam that went beyond Phish or Dead territory to the after-midnight place where maybe nothing good ever does happen. Just don’t tell your pop. —A. Stein

Tags: Alex Bleeker and the Freaks, Dog Gone Blog, Grateful Dead, Mercury Lounge, Phish, Prince Rupert’s Drops, Review, Run Slow
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Learning to Love of Montreal

December 12th, 2012

Of Montreal – Webster Hall – December 11, 2012

Despite my friends’ urging, I could never fully get into of Montreal. I’m no stranger to music with a heavy dose of drug culture—a quick check of my dresser in high school would have revealed the most glorious tie-dye shirts from the Grateful Dead, Phish and a plethora of lesser known jam bands. Despite of Montreal frontman Kevin Barnes’s knack for catchy pop lines (to which I am completely endeared) and even my own brief obsession with “The Party’s Crashing Us,” the group resided just a bit left of center for me. However, I couldn’t continue to ignore the incredible reputation their live show has built. So last night, I decided to take the plunge at Webster Hall.

And what a terribly deep descent into weirdness it was. From the very beginning of the night, of Montreal confirmed my deepest fears. In the first minute, four people in fat suits and skeleton masks ran onstage and danced around. As it turned out, these dancers became the focal point of the stage show. Each of their costumes was more elaborate and bizarre than the previous, and each song on which they appeared was more intricately choreographed than the one before. At one point, they fed the crowd a solid stream of balloon tubes, as if to dare everyone in the audience to make their own balloon animals. Later, we were treated to a saga involving the murder of a rat by an owl, with subsequent desecration of the carcass by an ant. All the while, trippy and colorful animations were projected all over the stage. Phish’s light show couldn’t hold a candle to this stuff.

But this immense spectacle never took away from of Montreal’s music. While the band couldn’t possibly replicate the energy of their multitracked studio recordings, they kept the set tight and spunky. Barnes sounded absolutely stunning vocally, and he also didn’t allow himself to be outdone by his own show. He crowd surfed, made a few costume changes of his own and even joined in on the fun by sitting on the shoulders of the dancers, appearing like Andre the Giant in The Princess Bride. I’ve never seen anything like it. And just like that, I began to love of Montreal. —Alex Kapelman

Tags: Grateful Dead, Kevin Barnes, Of Montreal, Phish, Review, Webster Hall
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A Trippy First Night of Animal Collective

December 5th, 2012

Animal Collective – Terminal 5 – December 4, 2012

Back in early October, if you listened very closely, you could almost hear entire parts of Brooklyn collectively sighing upon hearing the news that Animal Collective’s Williamsburg Waterfront show was cancelled. All right, so maybe that’s not entirely true, but luckily for fans, the band is back in New York City to make good on their earlier reservation, playing two nights at Terminal 5 with a healthy Avey Tare and an extra month of touring behind them.

Last night Animal Collective performed before a setting of ever-changing Day-Glo colors, in what looked something like a live-action interpretation of the cover of their latest album, Centipede Hz. Although the band sampled heavily from the new LP, a few Merriweather Post Pavilion favorites also found their way into the set. Moments between tracks were filled with lengthy improvisational segues. At times it felt like their songs sprouted organically from the band tinkering away at the instruments. The audience lost it when a few yelps from the beginning of “Brother Sport” weaseled into the drawn-out ending of “Monkey Riches,” teasing fans that a favorite was on its way. “Brother Sport” has evolved substantially since its recorded version, becoming much more drawn out live. By the time it hit its repetitious catchy hook in the middle of the song, the bass became extra heavy, as if to ensure the hypnotic hook was drilled deep into the listeners’ subconscious.

And even with all the crazy multicolored projections barraging the senses, it was still plenty entertaining to watch psych spelunker Geologist, with his signature headlamp, rocking out onstage—with the severity of his head-banging serving as the best indicator of the music’s intensity. Animal Collective grew up huge fans of the Grateful Dead, and without going overboard with the comparisons, there’s plenty the two bands have in common: From a superdevoted fan base to the improvised nature of their live shows, history might look back at Animal Collective as a continuation of many Deadhead traditions. We’ll just have to wait to see how the rest of their career unfolds, but what a long strange trip it’s been so far. —Dan Rickershauser