Friday, February 18
Matt Duncan
Al’s Bar; 601 N. Limestone. 8:00 P.M.
I Netflixed a documentary about Scott Walker a few weeks ago. I learned that Walker is a recluse who sings with lots of vibrato. He used to sing catchy, melodic pop songs, but now he sings songs that are the compositions of someone who’s lost his mind. Not in that embarrassing Brian Wilson way, but more of a dark, syphilitic Van Gogh thing.
By way of contrast, Matt Duncan sing catchy pop songs, largely vibrato-less, that sound like the compositions of people who once lost their minds, but recognized early enough that in social situations the dark, syphilitic thing can be off-putting to others, and so came back from the brink and rejoined civil society.
Monday, February 21
The Fervor with Cabrew Montage
Cosmic Charlie’s; 388 Woodland. 9:00 P.M.
One of the fun things to do when you’re a music snob and given the opportunity to write your snobby opinions in a blog, or a small publication such as this newspaper, is to denigrate–nay, ridicule–the musical opinions of other snobs writing for other blogs or small publications. And so this passage, from a Cincinnati-area web site:
“Louisville’s The Fervor combines the twilight sway of Velvet Underground’s first album with Classic Rock-informed song arrangements and contemporary Indie Rock sonics for a mesmerizing, emotive sound that creeps and builds like a gathering storm.”
Let’s take this apart. First, “twilight sway”: are we to infer that The Fervor (and VU) play music suitable for swaying in the twilight? Are other musics less suitable for twilight swaying? Do people sway more in twilight than at other times of day? If I like to listen to The Fervor prone, still, and in the late morning, does that make me a freak? It’s a slippery slope, you see.
Next, “Classic-Rock informed song arrangements.” I have in front of me two classic rock records: “Close to the Edge,” by Yes, which features three tracks of 19, ten, and nine minutes that have movements and sub-themes and weird patterns; and Rod Stewart’s “Every Picture Tells a Story,” the title track of which has the structure A-A-A-A-A-B.
Finally, “creeps and builds like a gathering storm.” Fine, but can’t you say the same thing about Wagner? The Fervor sound nothing like Wagner. And why does it always have to be a storm? Why not mix it up? “The Fervor has a sound that creeps and builds like the housing bubble.” Resonates, no?
Point is, you don’t need to spout nonsense to be a music snob. Just write this: I like The Fervor, and since my taste is eminently more refined than your own, you should like them too.
Friday, February 25
The Compromise
Cheapside; 131 Cheapside. 9:00 P.M.
Young, endearingly scruffy, and radio-ready. Since it’s the Cheapside, they’re playing Saturday too.
Sunday, February 27
Coles Whalen
Natasha’s; 112 Esplanade. 8:00 P.M.
It used to be that when you asked somebody if he or she liked country music, you both knew what kind of music you meant: music with twang, steel, heartache, and whiskey. And if you asked that same person about pop music, you meant something else entirely, Ronnie Milsap notwithstanding.
Nowadays this sort of mutual comprehension has passed into…er…the past, for where there once was mainstream country music over here and mainstream pop music over there, now there is just mainstream music. That’s the genre: mainstream; the music of Faith Hill, Shania Twain, Taylor Swift, and other women who are awfully nice to look at and can more or less carry a tune. Men play mainstream too, but I can’t abide the abdication of masculinity involved in that creative process, so I won’t acknowledge any of them here.
Which reminds of me of home improvement warehouses. I don’t know about you, but when I go shopping for lumber and power tools, I don’t want Enrique Iglesias providing the soundtrack. Not saying the store has to pipe in “Twilight of the Thunder God,” although that would be pretty darn cool, but must the endeavor be drained of every last drop of testosterone? Here’s a conversation I had at Home Depot last week, between myself, Jim the hardware & tools clerk, and Nelly Furtado:
Jim: “Well, if you want to go to the two-horsepower, Bosch makes a nice product.”
Nelly: “I’m like a biiiiiird…”
Me: “How’s it compare to the Porter Cable?
Nelly: “I wanna fly awayaaaaay…”
Jim: “I think the Bosch is better made, but I’ve heard no complaints about either of them.”
Nelly: “I don’t know where my soul is…”
Me: “Lemme think about it. Can you talk to me about roundover bits?”
Nelly: “I don’t know where my home is…”
Actually, Nelly, I’ll you where your home is: it’s at the Bed Bath & Beyond, and surely not in this hardware store. And Lowe’s is no better; such is the plight of the American male in 2011.
To sum up: Coles Whalen plays mainstream music, she is pretty good at it, she’s coming to Natasha’s, and you’ll probably even hear her next time you’re looking for drywall tape or whatever.
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