After the Walkmen ended, I hurried across to catch Owen Pallett's set over at Sennheiser's green stage. When I got there, he was about two songs in, and annoyed. His vocals, or maybe his violin, kept feeding back in the monitors; so much that he finally told the soundman to cut them completely. This might have been a workable situation for most performers, but Pallett's is a live looping show, building a wall of sound by playing over what he has just recorded. Without monitors, he couldn't hear what he'd already played, which made it near-impossible to play over it tightly in one take. I felt for the guy.
I remember getting his 2006 album He Poos Clouds not long after it came out, and being astonished that anyone (let alone any group) would attempt this sort of music live. I've played classical violin since I was four, and that was the first time I'd heard classical licks, dynamics, and instrumentation put into a pop framework. His latest, Heartland, is bigger and louder with synthesizers, guitar, and even a Jesus and Mary Chain-esque drumkit on a few tracks (added to the tympanis and suspended cymbals of the previous record). And once again, it's as easy and as rewarding a listen as this sort of complex instrumentation has ever been.
Most of the songs Pallett played were from the new album, with a couple from an even newer record yet to be released. I imagine he's not one to play the same songs over and over; of course, when you're essentially building the songs in front of people and it takes a minute before the verse can be in full swing, it would make anyone more self conscious about their song choices. The great thing about this sort of approach is that he's painting a picture onstage instead of dragging on an old, dusty canvas.
The disadvantage is that without monitors, this way of playing is virtually impossible. Pallett and his guitarist/percussionist exchanged wry glances throughout the set, and stage banter was curt. "We're not really a festival band," he said, "I don't have a lot of 'he said blah, I said blah' stories." Even if they didn't really seem to be enjoying their set, I sure did. Somehow it was still together, tight; often completely different from the album version, but even more exciting for it. I just laughed when he walked offstage with five or ten minutes left in the set. Sure, they weren't a festival band, but for three quarters of an hour they had managed to make me forget I was at a festival.
2010/08/25
2010/08/06
The Walkmen
Matt Kassel's blog (coldjazz.blogspot.com) has got me thinking that I should return my own blog, which has been pulled in more directions than a compass at a magnet factory over the years, to music writing. I've also just been to Osheaga and I'd like to have my impressions recorded somewhere so I can look over them in a few years after I have forgotten them.
Though the Walkmen came on at one in the afternoon, there was no way I was going to miss them. I remember hearing "The Rat" on a Chocolate Skateboards video several years ago, and I got their singles soon after. Maybe they're tired of that song by now, or maybe they opened with it, but what I heard came mostly from their latest album and the one due out in September. They were surprisingly clean cut, which mirrored the faithful renditions of the album versions with which they bombasted the gathering crowd.
Though Paul Maroon's guitars were drenched in all the reverb his overdriven Fender Twin could muster, the Walkmen's sound worked because their instruments, refreshingly effect-free, sounded good on their own. The same held true for Hamilton Leithauser's vocals, which managed to be both unaffected and affecting, on-key and off-kilter. They held together like only a guitar, bass, B3, and drumkit can: a colour-by-numbers rock band, but an earnest and hardworking one.
No one worked harder than Matt Barrick, the drummer, whose jockey-like stature was only equalled by his jockey-like ability to drive the group forward. He played the drums right-handed, but with his right hand crossed under his left, an unusual playing style which probably came from his tendency to hit the highest toms with it instead of the snare during most of his beats.
That was the most peculiar thing I could discern in the whole of their set. The Walkmen are not a surprising band, but they have unusually good material and a phenomenal sound which speaks to very sober equipment choices and a coherent vision of their sound. The equally sober 1 p.m. crowd seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. It makes me wonder what it'd be like to see them play a late-night set, when all the lights and smoke trained on them would actually be visible. They would probably play "The Rat" then. And it would be raucous.
Though the Walkmen came on at one in the afternoon, there was no way I was going to miss them. I remember hearing "The Rat" on a Chocolate Skateboards video several years ago, and I got their singles soon after. Maybe they're tired of that song by now, or maybe they opened with it, but what I heard came mostly from their latest album and the one due out in September. They were surprisingly clean cut, which mirrored the faithful renditions of the album versions with which they bombasted the gathering crowd.
Though Paul Maroon's guitars were drenched in all the reverb his overdriven Fender Twin could muster, the Walkmen's sound worked because their instruments, refreshingly effect-free, sounded good on their own. The same held true for Hamilton Leithauser's vocals, which managed to be both unaffected and affecting, on-key and off-kilter. They held together like only a guitar, bass, B3, and drumkit can: a colour-by-numbers rock band, but an earnest and hardworking one.
No one worked harder than Matt Barrick, the drummer, whose jockey-like stature was only equalled by his jockey-like ability to drive the group forward. He played the drums right-handed, but with his right hand crossed under his left, an unusual playing style which probably came from his tendency to hit the highest toms with it instead of the snare during most of his beats.
That was the most peculiar thing I could discern in the whole of their set. The Walkmen are not a surprising band, but they have unusually good material and a phenomenal sound which speaks to very sober equipment choices and a coherent vision of their sound. The equally sober 1 p.m. crowd seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. It makes me wonder what it'd be like to see them play a late-night set, when all the lights and smoke trained on them would actually be visible. They would probably play "The Rat" then. And it would be raucous.
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