Dean & Britta: 13 Most Beautiful... Songs for Andy Warhol's Screen Tests

There certainly hasn’t been a lack of programming associated with the Wexner Center’s “Andy Warhol: Other Voices, Other Rooms” exhibition, especially of the musical variety. And for good reason, considering Warhol’s inseparability from the Velvet Underground.

There was the Robert Forster event, at which the former Go-Between covered the Velvets; in February, Times New Viking will do the same. And last Thursday, Dean & Britta gave a performance that combined with Andy Warhol visuals to create a captivating hour of mixed media.

“Dean” refers to Dean Wareham, former frontman of genre-shapers Galaxie 500 and its successful follow-up, Luna, of which Britta Phillips eventually became a member. For this show, Dean & Britta performed (mostly) new music to complement 13 of Warhol’s famous “screen tests,” also throwing in a Bob Dylan cover (“I’ll Keep It With Mine”) and a Velvet Underground tune (“Not a Young Man Anymore”).

Warhol made around 500 of these screen tests at his studio, the Factory, each of them being shot with a 16 mm camera on 100-foot rolls of silent, black and white film. The films normally would have lasted 2¾ minutes apiece, but they were projected so that they ended up as 4-minute films, the slight slow-motion effect elongating and exaggerating any movements.

Some of the subjects seen in the featured screen tests were well known. A young Dennis Hopper cycled through several emotions, looking fierce, confused, amused and contemplative. Velvet Underground vocalist Nico, someone who was undoubtedly used to cameras, seemed bored and slightly annoyed. Lou Reed drank a bottle of Coke, making art of a mass-produced item—a concept made famous by Warhol.

Between a few of the songs, Wareham gave a little commentary on the video portraits. Sometimes the background was a nice addition, and other times I wished I had plugged my ears, because the story and emotions I was projecting onto the images were more interesting than the reality.

Take the screen test of Ann Buchanan. While Dean & Britta played a song called “Singer Sing,” the dark-haired, dark-eyed Buchanan gazed unfalteringly at the camera as tears began to well up in her eyes and eventually cascade down her face one at a time. It had me wondering what could be causing so much sadness in her life. Or was it something Warhol was saying in the background of the silent film that we, the viewers, weren’t privy to? And how did she remain so stone-faced with such internal grief?

Perhaps if I’d been more observant, I would have noticed that the tears were merely a result of not blinking for nearly three minutes, as Wareham noted after the song. That explains the stone face and lack of any visible grief other than the tears. Still, I like my version better.

Wareham’s comments about Freddie Herko, on the other hand, were a welcome—if a bit disturbing—confirmation of suspicions I already had. Herko appeared shifty and angry in his screen test, at times looking downright menacing. Something was not right with him, like a man searching for peace but finding the opposite. The band accompanied the portrait with a repetitive instrumental melody that built to an intense climax toward the end of the film.

Turns out Herko, a dancer, committed suicide soon after the screen test. At 29, he leapt out the window of a friend’s apartment. He also was a speed freak, which would account for some of the shiftiness, too.

During the performance, the musicians often faced the video screen, undoubtedly taking cues from the larger-than-life projections. The Velvets cover, appropriately played during Reed’s test, was the only real rocker of the night. Most songs were marked by Dean & Britta’s dream-pop vibe, a nice companion to the portraits.

Wareham’s voice oozed his usual indolent cool, and Phillips’s silky-sweet singing was almost as gorgeous as her runway-model looks. I couldn’t help thinking how well she would have fit in with screen-tested Factory starlets like “Baby Jane” Holzer and Ingrid Superstar.

Adding music to such an iconic project is a daunting and risky proposition, even for someone with as much cred as Wareham. But Dean & Britta’s pop and Andy Warhol’s art melded to make a most beautiful evening, indeed.

Also at The Other Paper

A Very Rosie Christmas

I'm a bit of a grinch about Christmas music before Thanksgiving. To me, it feels like the result of retailers forcing the holidays upon us earlier and earlier each year. So it ends up sounding more like a dentist's drill than wassailing.

But once Thanksgiving hits, I'm ready. Full steam ahead. Get out the egg nog and bring on the Christmas tunes. (Well, at least the good ones. I'm not a "Santa Baby" kind of guy.)

Rosie Thomas just released A Very Rosie Christmas, and I think it's going to become a holiday staple at my house. Thomas's sweet, lovely voice and overall gosh-darn-cute presence on record make her the perfect artist to release a Christmas album. Her version of hymns like "O Come O Come Emmanuel" and "Silent Night" are gorgeous, and her take on Joni Mitchell's "River" is surprisingly new and refreshing.

I'm can also be a humbug about new Christmas tunes, just because they never seem to measure up to the classics. But Rosie proves me wrong on her originals, especially "Why Can't It Be Christmastime All Year." I may even listen to it before Thanksgiving next year...

Local roundup

Reviews of recent (and not so recent) Columbus albums:

The Lost Revival - Homemade Confetti
Let me first say that I'm way late on this one. The Lost Revival released its debut, Homemade Confetti, earlier this year, but it somehow passed me by. That band wasn’t hiding under a rock, either. The seven-piece multi-instrumentalists have become known for their intense live shows, earning them a spot opening CD101’s Summerfest this year.

Homemade Confetti, which was apparently recorded in one weekend, doesn’t sound the least bit like a rush job. It’s a big record, with lots of atmospheric layering in the background, providing a thick blanket in which to wrap Kevin Collins’s throaty vocals--like a less lackadaisical, sea-urchin-swallowing version of the Black Swans’ Jerry DeCicca.

Collins must be a Bob Dylan devotee, given some of his phrasing, harmonica style and religious imagery. (Not to mention the intro guitar riff to “Jailbait” sounds just like “Hurricane,” and “Thin Man’s Mile” is probably not a coincidental allusion to “Ballad of a Thin Man.”) But with all those instruments and dark overtones, any sort of “Americana” tag would be misleading--especially on a song like “A Bird on a Chain,” the best on the album. The Lost Revival has a sound entirely its known, and a good one.

Karate Coyote - Move EP
Just the name Karate Coyote exudes playfulness, so it’s no surprise this up-and-coming band’s debut EP, Move, is filled with hand claps and a friskiness that brings to similar-minded acts like Los Campesinos!.

Playful is cool with me, especially when it’s done this well. “Move yourself to dance,” instructs Karate Coyote on the bouncy leadoff track, “Move Yourself,” and if no one’s looking, you’ll no doubt find yourself heeding the advice. Surprises abound on this little EP, like the bluesy guitar solo on “Easy” and the synth outro on “Incogneat-o.”

KC is a new band, so there’s room to grow, of course. I could use more of the back-and-forth guy-girl vocals, and I think the singers in general are buried too deep too often on these tracks. They’re good enough to be front and center--a position Karate Coyote should get used to if it continues down its current path.

mp3: Karate Coyote - Move Yourself

Melty Melty - Rise of the Birdmen
A few weeks ago I told you about the whole debacle Melty Melty went through while recording Rise of the Birdmen, i.e. losing the entire album to a computer crash and having to start from scratch. It makes for a good story, but good stories only matter if the record follows suit. This one is so good you won’t really care how it came to fruition.

Like Sean Gardner’s other projects (Bookmobile, Winter Makes Sailors), Melty Melty continues his pattern of making highly accessible but no less artful indie rock, this time with an unmistakable deference to Pinback--a comparison I wouldn’t make lightly.

Rise of the Birdmen is polished and spacious. “Walls” is built around a simple, repeating guitar bend, and “Killing Time” is Melty Melty at its dreamiest, Gardner and former Kopaz compadre Kevin Davison making tasteful use of analog synths, eerie guitar and found sounds. “Same Situation” would be the obvious first single, if singles still mattered. Gardner’s instantly recognizable tenor has a tendency to wander too far into whiny land, but it usually anchors the songs nicely; his inventive vocal melodies provide the majority of the album’s hooks.

Nothing against the band’s label, We Want Action, but Melty Melty deserves something bigger, and with this debut, the band just might get it.

This week's Other Paper

In this week's paper, you can check out my review of the seven-year anniversary concert at Skully's featuring seven local bands: the Whiles, Two Cow Garage, Deathly Fighter, Good Company, Bush League All-Stars, Psychedelic Horseshit and Unholy Two.

I also wrote a feature about all the behind-the-scenes turmoil accompanying this year's Hate Michigan Rally with the very much alive Dead Schembechlers, Watershed, and, oddly, the All American Rejects. For some reason that one isn't online yet, but I'll put a link up when it (hopefully) goes live. UPDATE: Here we go.

Oh, and preview blurbs for Marnie Stern and AC/DC, also not online. Yay web presence!

Blitzen Trapper, Horse Feathers - Skully's

Blitzen Trapper is on track to become The Next Big Thing. Not a here-today-gone-tomorrow buzz band (remember Black Kids?)--a mainstay.

Here’s proof. First, the Portland band released Wild Mountain Nation last year to moderate acclaim. It’s a good record, if a bit uneven, with a hefty dose of messy slacker rock amid crispy bits of countrified rock. It was Blitzen Trapper’s most widely heard album yet, leading to a deal with Sub Pop and this year’s Furr. Furr is a terrific album of Dylan-inspired tunes that find the band maturing without growing dull--a tough feat. Expect to hear more about this record as the audience grows.

And so all that’s left to solidify Blitzen Trapper as a force to be reckoned with is its live show, and the six-piece proved Tuesday night at Skully’s that it’s more than capable of winning hearts and minds from the stage.

In the big scheme of things, bandleader Eric Earley’s chiseled good looks probably won’t hurt Blitzen Trapper’s coming ascension, either. Earley is the band’s songwriter, usually writing songs on his own and recording/producing lots of them himself in the studio. But Blitzen Trapper doesn’t feel the least bit like a solo project. On stage the band is a tight, finely tuned machine, and each part is integral in making the gears turn.

There were only a few Pavement moments Tuesday night, “Love U” being one of them. Most other songs mixed the band’s fuzzy past with its furry present. “Gold for Bread” was one of the best examples of how well Blitzen Trapper mixes the old with the new, taking an energetic rocker and giving it an unmistakable Western vibe.

The full room responded most to “Furr,” the superbly written centerpiece of the band’s new album. The acoustic-based tune is a songwriting exemplar that uses Dylan as inspiration, yet still manages to feel original. The creative, more electric live arrangement brought spontaneous, simultaneous cheers from the crowd at certain points. (See? A finely crafted song can even get hipsters all worked up.)

There’s no reason for the band to ditch older songs like “Country Caravan” or “Wild Mountain Nation,” either. It allows the Oregonians to unleash a more playful side. That side came out during the encore, especially on “Miss Spiritual Tramp” (“It was a drive-by/ Columbian necktie”) and a cover of Dolly Parton’s “The Last Thing on My Mind.”

Tour mate and fellow Portlander Horse Feathers, on the other hand, wasn’t playful in the least. The guitar-violin-cello trio played quiet, folky songs you’d expect to hear coming from inside the snowy, wintry barn on the cover of the band’s most recent record, House with No Home.

It was a strange juxtaposition to have a such a hushed, lulling band bathed in Skully’s pink lighting underneath a disco ball, but eventually everyone caught on to the vibe and quieted down, allowing singer Justin Ringle’s tenor to carry. Ringle’s voice is soothing, and he has a calm presence to match it. He also happens to look a lot like Ron Howard--the bearded, director version of Ron Howard, not Opie or Richie Cunningham.

The live performance offered more dynamic range than House with No Home, which suffers from a bit of sameness. But the strings provided plenty of interest Tuesday night, even when Ringle’s singing began to sound a bit repetitive.

“Working Poor” featured a violin riff that hung in the air long after it was gone. The violinist also played the saw for a tune called “Heathen’s Kiss.” Maybe it’s a gimmick, but I give extra points to any band that successfully employs a cutting tool in its songs.

mp3: Blitzen Trapper - Furr
mp3: Horse Feathers - Curs in the Weeds

Melty Melty

For some reason the Other Paper never got the Melty Melty preview I wrote up on the website, so here it is, even though the release show was last weekend. Of all the local releases this year, Rise of the Birdmen is one I highly recommend picking up.

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On Melty Melty’s debut album, Rise of the Birdmen, singer Sean Gardner sounds like a man who has come to grips with technology’s aggravating tendency to implode. “Machines can tumble on over, it doesn’t even matter to me/ Machines can burn out their motors, it doesn’t even matter to me,” he sings on “Same Situation,” the leadoff track.

Gardner learned to roll with the punches the hard way. He and bandmate Kevin Davison had just about finished recording the album with their engineer/drummer Mark Himmel (The Slide Machine) when Himmel’s hard drive crashed. They lost everything.

“It was awful,” Gardner said. “We looked at companies that could recover hard drives, and it was way too much money and they couldn’t guarantee it. We got programs to try, spent countless hours at the Mac store, but it was just a lost cause. And then we all invested in external hard drives.”

It took a couple of months to gear up and start over, and once they did, the record began to take on a whole new feel. The first time through the songs had a raw, home-recorded sound, but Rise of the Birdmen is “a lot more polished than we expected and a lot more produced,” Gardner said. “We love it. I’m really, really proud of it, but it’s definitely a lot different than the beginning.”

The real beginning of Melty Melty goes back even further, to the days when Gardner and Davison were in Kopaz, a Columbus band that garnered some major label attention and then promptly called it quits. So the two began focusing on the direction Kopaz had started to take--slower, spacey, poppy and simple, taking cues from Pinback and German duo Tarwater. (On Rise of the Birdmen, the Pinback influence is impossible to miss.)

At first the pair tried to tour on their own, looping live drums with Gardner behind the kit. “It was a really cool idea but it didn’t always work,” he says. “Every song kinda started out the same and it wasn’t as fun to perform. And sometimes you’d get a bad sound guy who didn’t know what we were trying to do.”

Eventually Himmel came on board and Melty Melty did some touring, but he has since been replaced by Brian Moore, drummer for Brainbow and formerly of Tiara. Bookmobile’s Antonio Garza occasionally fills in as well, and the plan for this Saturday’s record release show at Ruby Tuesday is to have all three drummers playing simultaneously at certain points. It’s super-trendy these days for indie-rock bands to have two drummers, Gardner says, but three? “We’re treading new ground,” he joked.

Like Gardner’s other projects--Bookmobile, Winter Makes Sailors--Melty Melty doesn’t shy away from a hook. But Gardner said the different bands occupy a different space in his head when it comes to songwriting. Slower songs tend to become Winter Makes Sailors tunes; catchy, fun songs usually go Melty Melty’s way, and when writing for Bookmobile, Gardner said there’s “beer in the air and jump-kicking, the fun rock and roll side.”

Oh, and then there’s the Kyle Sowashes, but Gardner admitted not much sweat goes into his role there. “All I have to do is write a sweet tambourine part.”

Chairlift w/ Moon High - Wexner Center, 11-3

You gotta hand it to the folks at Apple. They’re pretty good at finding just the right songs to soundtrack all those boldly colored iPod TV ads. The most recent commercial for the Nano is no exception. While watching those new gadgets bleed their vivacious colors, you’ll hear Caroline Polachek of the band Chairlift singing about handstand attempts over the bounciest bass line allowed by law. The song is called “Bruises,“ and it’s playful, catchy, hummable, vaguely familiar--all the things Apple is going for in hopes that those Nanos will fly off the shelves, economic crisis be damned.

But Feist has no need to worry. She won’t be relinquishing the iPod-commercial crown to Chairlift anytime soon. For many, “1234” served as a jumping-off point for discovering other gems in the Feist catalog, but judging from Chairlift’s sparsely attended show at the Wexner Center’s Black Box on the Mershon stage, an exploration instigated by “Bruises” turns up a lot of filler from a band still searching for an identity.

That’s not to say that this Brooklyn three-piece doesn’t have some stuff worth hearing, namely the songs where Polachek showcases her tremendous pipes. “Make Your Mind Up” was the most impressive of Monday night’s very brief set, as Polachek’s soulfulness spilled over the levee, revealing a beautiful vocal tone and an uncommonly high range. The song made her slightly bothersome theatrical gestures (draping herself over the keyboard, etc.) seem more justified.

“Bruises” came off just as it should have, and the short-and-sweet “Evident Utensil” was nice and danceable, despite some rhymes that felt a little forced. But the rest of the set was spotty as Chairlift attempted U2 (“Deer Hunt”), French pop and some industrial-inspired stuff.

“Planet Health,” the closer, mentioned something about a food pyramid, puberty and saying no to drugs, with a chorus of, “I’m feeling great tonight.” It’s a snoozer till the the song’s resilient outro (“Stop, drop and roll”), but by that time it was a little late, and I was still befuddled about this planet Polachek was attempting to describe.

Until Chairlift learns to consistently harness Polachek’s voice, sharpen its focus stylistically and mature a bit lyrically, it’s probably not worth filling up that Nano with more than a couple Chairlift tracks.

Moon High, on the other hand, has created and fully embraced a unique identity. The local band’s ultra-mellow, organic folk--an odd contrast with Chairlift’s synth-heavy sounds--is unlike any other band in Columbus, and you’d have trouble finding an equivalent outside of Ohio, too. People like to lump Moon High in with freak-folk bands, and David Fowler and Ryan Wells may take some inspiration from that scene, but reducing the band to that label does it a disservice.

Fowler and Wells shared lead vocal duties and switched between various acoustic guitars, banjo and cello throughout the set, accompanied by flute and violin at times from the two female background singers. Moon High completes its aesthetic visually with a couple of large, foot-switchable, white globe lights that I find more warm and peaceful than gimmicky.

Just about all of the band’s songs have a mournful vibe, and that consistency does come with a small price. If you head to a Moon High show with some sleep debt, the tranquility of “Lying Here, Dying Here,” “Where You Go” and other songs can become a bit drowsy. But these guys aren’t trying to shake the rafters, so I have a feeling that if you kicked back and closed your eyes at a show, they might take it more as a compliment than an insult.