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August 25, 2006
The Blow Get Four Stars
by Zach Baron
There's legitimate beef to be had with The Blow's violent, the-world-is-yours, all-material-out-is-our-material appropriation of other people's shit. MySpace it: Now playing, The Police, except The Blow call it "Come On Petunia". And see here: Recognize those "Parentheses" handclaps? First five or six seconds of "My Boyfriend's Back", no? That said, said beef is not mine. The Blow detour the Angels' handclaps into "Stars Are Blind" reggae and midi-bass-groove before letting them go, then ride that goofy keyboard funk to the second best lyric in the song: "When you're, holding me/ We make a pair of parentheses." The bridge bottoms out, Khaela Maricich says, "There's something in the deli aisle," and you are sure the next lyric will be, "That makes you smile." But then she says, "That makes you cry." Heartbreaking not-rhyme, and it's all hers.
Posted by kmikeym at 11:28 AM
August 24, 2006
Catch that Beat!
by Garett Strickland
THERE HAVE ALWAYS been certain members of the Portland community who seem practically omnipresent. Jona Bechtolt is one of those dudes. Beatmaster for the Blow, one-half of We Two and the Universe, laptop maestro of YACHT, and co-pilot for the ever-popular UrbanHonking.com, now Bechtolt has yet another title to chalk up on his resume of all things awesome.
On Saturday the 26th through Sunday the 27th of August, Bechtolt will host the third annual Catch that Beat festival in Astoria, OR. Like an espresso shot of NW talent, the fest packs 27 bands into 14 hours, and follows up the next morning with vegan pancakes and more fun to boot.
Posted by kmikeym at 1:38 PM | Comments (1)
August 18, 2006
Jacuzzi-Hot Drone
by Adam Gnade
Fitting somewhere between Jackie-O Motherfucker's great mantric Flags of the Sacred Harp and pure jacuzzi-hot drone, Valet's new record comes in puddles of liquid sound. The Yarnlazer-released Blood is Clean is all long building, spacious jams that span out over five or six (or sometimes eight) minutes and just sigh away. It's mellow taken a step further—just sun-warmed, yellow-gold shimmers. Valet is Honey Owens, who played in Jackie-O when Flags was cut, sang in Nudge, and has trafficked in hardcore free-noise with World and jammed Santanic with Dark Yoga. All were (and are) some of Portland's best of the last few years, and Blood is Clean adds to that legacy with streamers, balloons, and fireworks.
At 45 minutes, Blood is Clean is a roaming trip through sounds unrecognizable. Was that barely there gasp a muffled horn or a train whistle heard from miles away? Is that laptop percussion or Indian hand drums field recorded at a powwow? As we roll through the record's eight tracks, it's best to just give up trying to quantify and compartmentalize and let ourselves be taken down the river. It's all sunny, dreamscape action, minimalist compositions that hush off until there's nothing there but a pulse in the wrist. Others rear up with tribal vibe, and some are nothing more than a breath of vocals and rippling ambient pools.
Tonight Honey collaborates with Ghosting, a like-minded kid named Zachary Reno who is making some of the most uncompromisingly beautiful instrumental drone/noise grooves on Earth. Put together, I can only imagine the real, human, unpackaged, zero bullshit SOUND they're going create. Hope to see you there.
Posted by kmikeym at 5:17 PM
August 10, 2006
Maximum Warriors
by Chas Bowie
We typically don't review art shows that hang in coffee shops, boutiques, or bars. It's not because we think art has to be validated by Pearl District spaces where the employees look at you dirty if you try to peek at what's hanging in the back office. It's only because coffee shops, boutiques, and bars almost never throw exhibitions as fresh and exciting as Maximum Warriors, which hangs all month at Yes, a trendy clothing store on E Burnside.
Someone asked me what Maximum Warriors was like, and the most succinct answer was, "You know what E*Rock's drawings look like? It's eight artists doing work like that." That's a positively reductivist answer, but it's apt, and the curator took flagrant steps to create a show where all the works gel together into one hyperkinetic, psycho-chromatic whole.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. "What do E*Rock's drawings, and by extension, the rest of these drawings look like?" you might be asking. I'm glad you asked. They start with the Magic Marker and end with goopy, dizzying, and faux-juvenile throwbacks to Aerosmith, skulls with bloodshot eyes, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. In between, quasi-amphetaminic obsession takes over the doodle, and tiny mazes, blobs, cloudscapes, and dripping wax buildups are rendered with incredible focus and precision. While all of the drawings revel in lighthearted silliness, most are drafted with hands tuned to the psychedelic and pulsating. There's a level of single-minded tedium in lots of the fine detail here that refers not only to outsider art, but also to loopy, squelchy electronic music.
If the show is a joy to see, it's largely because it looks like such a joy to create. Much of the work in Maximum Warriors appears to have been created for the sheer thrill of putting ink to paper. That's hardly a recipe for success, but here it pays off handily. Spotting this fledgling trend (psychekitschdoodle?) is reminiscent of seeing some of the Mission District renaissance pieces for the first time, or stumbling into the Fresh Up Club's room at the Affair at the Jupiter Hotel a few years ago. This work will be scooped up by "real" art galleries soon enough, but why wait until then to discover it?
Posted by kmikeym at 5:27 PM