Watershed in Columbus Monthly, part II

I mentioned previously that I wrote a profile of Columbus band Watershed for Columbus Monthly, but it was only available in the print issue. Never fear. If you aren't a subscriber or didn't pick up the January issue on the newsstand, for a limited time only the feature is online for your digital-reading pleasure. Act now!

Times New Viking - Wexner Center, 1-25

Times New Viking will most likely be the most polarizing band of 2008. Previously, the Columbus noise-pop/garage-punk trio were able to stay on the fringes, garnering mostly praise from its dedicated followers. Fans of Times New Viking’s lower-than-lo-fi sound gobbled up previous releases on Siltbreeze, but as respected as the resurrected label is in some circles, its reputation and influence pales in comparison to the band’s new label, Matador--considered by many to be the pinnacle of the indie rock world.

So while TNV wasn’t exactly hard to avoid before, it’s firmly planted at the forefront for the time being, and on the heels of an 8.4 rating by Pitchfork, people are listening. The reactions, though, are not even-keeled. Scanning through some recent emusic.com user reviews of the band’s Matador debut, Rip It Off, you’ll see “I like the noisy, lo-fi thing” and “This band actually is quite good” alongside comments like “Distorted, irritating, poorly recorded garbage” and “Listen to this if you want to blow your brains out from the stress this will cause.”

I guess I’m in the minority, because before Friday night’s record release show at the Wexner Center, I didn’t love or loathe Times New Viking. What I found appealing in the band’s fun, super-catchy pop songs was always undermined by fuzzy layers of pretension. The busted quality of the recordings wasn’t an impenetrable barrier aurally, but I couldn’t help thinking that all that messiness was affected and overblown--DIY gone too far.

On Friday night, however, all that perceived pretension melted away to reveal a band that was just plain fun. Times New Viking made a believer out of me.

The band played what it professed to be its longest show ever, which made for a whole bunch of manic, noisy pop songs that usually hovered around the two-minute mark. Early on in the set, drummer/vocalist Adam Elliot introduced one song as “the only dance song we have,” but that was entirely untrue. In fact, there was a sizable group up front that danced and moshed to the entire set. A few times I had to look around and make sure I was still at the Wexner Center. (It also should be noted that a local band headlining a Wex concert is a rare feat, and the room was packed.)

Times New Viking’s love for Guided By Voices is even more apparent live as each no-frills tune was playfully and expertly deconstructed to its bare essentials. The best songs featured keyboardist/vocalist Beth Murphy prominently, particularly “My Head,” “Devo & Wine,” “Faces on Fire” and “DROP-OUT”--a song the band screwed up, then reluctantly (but fortunately) restarted. Most of the reluctance came from guitarist Jared Phillips, but skipping the song entirely would have been the height of live-show laziness; as someone in the crowd noted, the song is only a minute long.

Everything TNV does, from the fuzz to the minimalist drum kit, is intentional, yet the band’s laid-back approach and rough-around-the-edges musicianship gave the set a feeling of playful spontaneity. That mood also lightened up dark lyrics such as “Everything that you know has been an accident” and “I don’t want to die in the city alone.” The band describes its lyrical approach as “romantic nihilism.” Perhaps that’s why Elliot dedicated to several songs to dead rock stars and Heath Ledger.

And, I’ll have to say, it was nice being able to hear the vocals rise above the clutter and the drums really carry the beat of the punky tunes. On TNV’s albums the snare tends to sound more like someone tapping tin foil with a twig.

If you’ve yet to see Times New Viking, the romantic nihilists will probably be in your hometown before too long, and you just might love them. If not, you’ll hate them.

More photos.

mp3: Times New Viking - DROP-OUT
mp3: Times New Viking - (My Head)

Plug for Studio 35

I finally saw I'm Not There last night, the impetus being that it was playing at Studio 35, an old independent theater here in Clintonville. I liked the movie, but what I liked more was being in a one-screen historic theater while surrounded by film buffs (judging by the conversations I eavesdropped on). I liked the crumbling paint and the crackling film. And as I slouched further and further into my seat, I really liked the Bell's Double Cream Stout, on tap. All that for less than $10.

Studio 35 has changed hands a couple of times, and sometime within the last year there was an employee walk-out. People chose sides, and supposedly some folks temporarily boycotted the place. But none of that matters much to me. I'm just glad it's still in business. If you're here in Columbus and you've never been, go check it out. And if you're not local but you're lucky enough to have a similar restored or semi-restored independent theater, go support it. Your ears might not rattle during the "DTS" demonstration, but I'm sure you'll find other things to appreciate.

Cold season

Vampire Weekend

At this point in Vampire Weekend’s early career, the four boys from Columbia University are known for a few things. One, the sweater-clad, Ivy League crew looks the part. Two, the band injects Afropop influences into its indie pop tunes, garnering multiple comparisons to Paul Simon’s Graceland before VW’s eponymous full-length has even debuted. And three, in the era of here-today-hated-tomorrow buzz bands, the fledgling foursome is known just for being known.

To be sure, Vampire Weekend’s world music influences shouldn’t be overlooked. The band’s signature song, “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa,” which refers to Congolese soukous music, could also double as a style the band has created--though the band prefers “Upper West Side Soweto.” In the tune, singer/guitarist Ezra Koenig’s playfully heady lyrics rhyme “Louis Vitton” with “reggaeton” and “Colors of Bennetton.” The song isn’t technically kwassa kwassa, but it and other tracks do elicit plenty of comparisons to Afrobeat and even calypso, especially rhythmically.

While the intentional multicultural touchstones are impressive, the band’s real talent lies in how seamlessly the foursome integrates these globe-trotting styles into what is essentially indie rock and New Wave pop. “A-Punk” uses a guitar lick similar to the intro of Bloc Party’s “Helicopter,” but Koenig has taken the angular guitar and tediously smoothed it out with a padded mallet. It’s as if each short and snappy track on the album has been dipped in paraffin to soften any sharp edges. The bass lines bubble underneath bouncy drumbeats, and keys, organ, harpsichord, strings and flute add some more cushion. Koenig usually employs a collegiate croon, but he bleats about on “One (Blake’s Got a New Face)” and apes Sting, complete with faux-British overtones, on “The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance.” Where Yeasayer’s ’07 album, All Hour Cymbals, used world music to create trippy concoctions, Vampire Weekend takes similar influences to produce expertly crafted pop songs with stamina.

I’ve yet to see Vampire Weekend live--though the Wexner Center is bringing the boys to town Feb. 14--but I imagine Koenig singing with a smirk on his face. “Oxford Comma” references the debate over whether to include that last comma in a list of three items: “Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma? I've seen those English dramas, too. They're cruel.” (The fact that keyboardist Rostam Batmanglij interned at the Oxford English Dictionary one summer adds another layer of meaning.) Then later, in the same song, Koenig name-drops the king of crunk: “Why would you lie about anything at all? First the window, then it's to the wall. Lil' Jon, he always tells the truth.” The band also reveals its inner prepster love of patterned fabric on “M79”: “No excuse to be so callous. Dress yourself in bleeding madras. Charm your way across the Khyber Pass.”

It’s probably no coincidence that “The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance” is the album’s last song--a clever inward jab at the ephemeral quality of bands-of-the-moment like Vampire Weekend. But with tunes catchy enough to snag the sweater these Cape Cod vacationers inspired you to drag out of the closet, the band just may stick around.

mp3: Vampire Weekend - Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa
mp3: Download the Daytrotter session here

David Bazan

When clicking through my iPod, I routinely scroll right past artists that I genuinely enjoy, but for some reason the name just doesn't stick out anymore. I don't know if this is just the nature of having a chock-full iPod, because I probably used to do the same thing when scanning through stacks of CDs, but every so often I'm reminded of a band that I stopped listening to for no good reason. (Well, other than constantly having to listen to and review other albums and shows.)

I've been reading Body Piercing Saved My Life by Andrew Beaujon, a longtime Spin contributor, and it's a fascinating look at Christian rock and bands who play rock music and also happen to be Christians. Beaujon makes it clear he's not a Bible believer himself, which makes the book more intriguing to me. Anyhow, one of the best chapters so far is Beaujon's interview with David Bazan, formerly of Pedro the Lion (and electronic side project, Headphones).

Bazan's an opinionated, conflicted and endlessly interesting artist to me. He allows a time for questions at each of his shows, and someone inevitably asks him if he's a Christian, which he always responds to in the negative. Why? Beaujon quotes Bazan as saying, "I'm not equating myself with Martin Luther by any stretch--but him and people that were part of his movements just stopped calling themselves 'Catholics.' I'd rather there just be a misunderstanding--'The guy's flipped out and totally abandoned his faith'--because it's not necessary for strangers to know exactly how I feel."

Fortunately for us, that inner struggle makes for great songs. For a sampling, head here to download a solo set Bazan played back in November. I'll be listening to it, as well as rediscovering the tunes my iPod has been hiding from me right in front of my eyes.

And for some lyrics to squirm by, here's "Discretion" from Achilles Heel (whenever I hear this song now, I picture Chigurh, the killer from No Country For Old Men):

Having no idea that his youngest son was dead,
The farmer and his sweet young wife slept soundly in his bed.
In the shadow of the mountain, as the cattle hung their heads.

Grazing only feet from where the broken body lay.
It would lay undiscovered for another several days,
When the farmer would find vultures at their banquet in the hay.

The killer traveled eastbound in a golden brown sedan,
Weighing his most recent deviation from the plan.
Counting down the hours till the sun came up again.

Hired to hit the farmer, but the farmer's asshole son
Had not yet decided between poison or a gun.
Suddenly he realized he would not use either one.

Watershed w/ The Receiver, LC Pavilion, 1-11-08

Before Friday, it had been quiet on the Watershed front for quite a while. Even though the band released the live album Three Chords and a Cloud of Dust II in September, the last time the much-loved local rockers played their hometown was in August 2007, and that was the only show of the year. The two principal songwriters have been conspicuously absent: Singer/guitarist Colin Gawel has been managing Colin’s Coffee in Upper Arlington (though he occasionally can be found playing with his side project, the League Bowlers), and singer/bassist Joe Oestreich has been teaching at a college in Washington while doing some writing for literary journals and Esquire.

For a band that majors in loud, messy, catchy rock-and-roll and has been known to hit the road for long stretches, one show in 365 days is a distinct change of pace. So Friday night at the LC was a comeback of sorts, a chance for the band to reacquaint itself with hometown fans who have been (im)patiently waiting for a triumphant return. But the question that seemed to be on everyone’s minds, the elephant in the room, so to speak, was: After almost 20 years, does Watershed still have it, or is the band finally past its prime?

Fortunately, the time off has only reinvigorated the band, because the seasoned professionals sound as good as ever. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but Watershed doesn’t really aim for perfection. The band thrives on spontaneity, and there’s a certain amount of sloppiness that comes along with that. There were some flubbed chords and missed notes--Gawel’s voice in particular seemed to be going towards the end of the night--but Watershed’s contagious energy and onstage charisma made the dents and scratches all seem like part of the show. I’ll take some minor infractions in exchange for an invigorated performance.

There’s nothing sloppy about Watershed’s songwriting, though. Taking lessons from Cheap Trick, the Kinks and the Replacements, the band doesn’t write a song that you can’t sing along to by the second chorus. But what separates Watershed from the power-pop herd is that Gawel and Oestreich actually write good lyrics to go along with those choruses. Neither are afraid to write with sincerity but perform with playfulness.

The two singers use the dual vocal attack successfully and sound their best when both are contributing. Oestreich showed his impressive range and clarity on “5th of July” and “Anniversary,” especially during the latter’s refrain: “She's telling me now/This thing has run its course/Eight years for what/A shotgun divorce.” “Suckerpunch” and “Mercurochrome,” both fist-pumping rock songs, sounded particularly fresh and vital.

Watershed drew a respectable crowd, especially for a Columbus band, but at a venue like the LC, it still felt sparse. A smaller venue might have suited the band’s return better.

Opener The Receiver was at the complete opposite end of the spectrum from Watershed, sonically and in its performance philosophy, which made for a bizarre pairing. While Watershed’s specialty is off-the-cuff rock, the Receiver’s show was entirely programmed, utilizing computers playing looped instrumentation. Singer/multi-instrumentalist Casey Cooper stayed on bass most of the night while his brother, Jesse Cooper, manned the drum kit, so the rhythm section ruled the night. The band played droney, Radiohead-inspired tunes with a thick, liquid sound. I liked it.

The Cooper brothers aren’t ones to rush into a song. Most of the tunes had some sort of instrumental prologue to introduce the song’s personality and set the tone. Every song in the set had a distinct ebb and flow to it, with minor tones throughout; even the cathartic sections had somber overtones as Casey slid around them in a delicate timbre.

The band had its set videotaped, and the cameras were inordinately intrusive on multiple occasions, which will probably make for a good video but was really annoying live. I also prefer my rock a little more free-form, not so precisely orchestrated, but the brothers Cooper impressed nonetheless. I’ll be looking to hear more from the pair.