Britt Lundborg reports: Last night, Northside Festival kids were packed shin to shin for Memory Tapes whose chillwave, glo-fi, [insert bloggy musical trend here] sound grows serious teeth when heard live. On record, Memory Tapes swirl an impressive electro froth with trancey synths and bottled electronic drums. Seeing them on stage, you expect at least half a dozen white apples glowing in the dark and a little head bobbing by the key knob-twiddler. But nope, there the two guys are behind ACTUAL instruments – lead singer and guitarist, Dayve Hawk, and his drummer. And they play the shit out them. All the pieces of Memory Tapes’ incredibly catchy tunes are there, just in a slightly augmented fashion. It’s as though Hawk has emerged from his bedroom recording studio, demanded a six-string and said, “We’re doin’ this big, we’re doin’ this real, nothing from concentrate when we’re on the road.” And it works. It works like a charm. On their LP, Seek Magic, the stand-out track ‘Bicycle’ plucks and plinks until a euphoria-inducing guitar riff sweeps in and the floor fall from your feet. Live, that Hawk extends that riff into an epic squall and the song lasts for a solid 15 minutes where you can’t remember where you are. Truly transportive. Watch ‘Bicycle’ here.

MP3: Tanlines – Real Life (Memory Tapes Mix)

Erica C. Bowman captured some glorious photos from Friday night’s gig!

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Words and photos by our new guest blogger, Erica C. Bowman.

Some of hip-hop’s greatest underground acts gathered last weekend for the Soundset Music Festival held at Canterbury Park in Minneapolis. Crowd favorites like Brother Ali, Atmosphere, Method Man, Murs and Hieroglyphics ripped the mic, but a few lesser known acts such as Dessa and A.R.M proved underground hip-hop is still indeed underground, full of hidden gems.

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Our fabulous guest blogger, Britt Lundborg, shares her thoughts on the brand new album. “Your heart is like a crippled demon’s semen on your clothes”, so sings Quinn Walker on “A Mind I Knew”, a track off Suckers’ Frenchkiss Records debut, Wild Smile. The tune is a clattery, anxious steam-engine that picks up propulsive energy until its hard stop close. Lyrically, Suckers’ songs are populated with mind-testing poetic shorthand. Sometimes it’s obscure (see: crippled demon spunk) and sometimes it’s simple, specific and sad: “Pour out the wine, cardboard underneath our spines. Curled up shoes that keep repeating on the news”. Whether this sort of lyrically imagistic approach is off-putting or endearing is your challenge, not Suckers who sound assured, passionate and barely roped in on their LP. Scattering phrases like seeds on the wind can grate a listener who suspects laziness (bad) or pretension (even worse). But on Wild Smile, a magical coalescence occurs partly because a solid pop foundation underscores every tune. They use their songs as a jumping off point for invention and come at music-making in a scatter-shot, unusual way. Take “Black Sheep”, their lead single, for example. It’s a thumping, dizzying thrill ride built around an addictive little guitar riff and a huge squalling chorus. In the course of three and a half minutes, they change tempos, squeal their wheels and run shrieking the wrong way down a one-way street. It’s chaotic, shambolic and has ju-jus bigger than twenty Brooklyn-based bands combined. I know what you’re thinking: “Cripes, another Brooklyn bo-ho bro group! I can’t take any more whistling, falsetto or campfire harmonizing”. Fair enough, it’s been a tough few years here in the New York music scene and sorting the genuine from the false takes some patience. You will find it here with Suckers.

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Britt Lundborg attended last night’s gig and offers an extensive report! Last night, South London foursome Athlete played the Bowery Ballroom. You probably know their one big hit (“Wires”) since its epic melancholy was inescapable in 2005. I’ll give you a second to Google it. Ear-worms in? Good. Athlete’s a funny outfit – sure handed when piecing together melodies and highly competent live, but perhaps a touch out of step? I mean, they look like indie rockers: the drummer is festooned with ugly eyeglasses and a silly beard, lead singer Joel Pott tones down his super good looks with boring clothes and work boots, the bassist even has a face piercing. Swimming in all these alt signifiers, you’d think it would take, but their sound is Top 40 Radio. Proudly, unabashedly, straight for the middle. Their first LP was nominated for a Mercury Prize and they’ve picked up a highly-coveted Ivor Novello song-writing accolade. So, what’s the problem? Well, backlash for one thing. As typical with music fame in the UK, as soon as the Brits skyrocket your LP up the charts, they loathe you. See: Coldplay. Like Athlete, Coldplay started as a rinky-dink piano/kee-tar group held together with little more Chris Martin’s tears. They made perfectly accessible, square music and got hugely famous. Coldplay occupy Athlete’s space in the charts. Their built-in earnestness is a crucial part of both these bands’ appeal. When you want to soar or when you want to weep, this is the kind of easy-listening music that acts as a low-grade beta-blocker. It calms you down. But don’t get me wrong – the audience last night was rapt, singing along, loving every carefully-constructed moment. Does love flow in when irony’s gone? There were moments – the choral breakdown on “Wild Wolves”, Pott’s strange jaunty dance on the edge of the stage – but the night’s hatches felt fully battened.

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Micah Weisberg attended last night’s gig and provides the following review. Aside from a minor “lump in his throat,” according to singer Barry Hyde, the Futureheads were in top form for their first ever Brooklyn show late Tuesday night. During a taut hour-long set, the band rifled through the hits as well as several choice cuts off their new album, The Chaos, released earlier that day. The crowd was quite receptive, bobbing along to newbies “Heartbeat Song” and the title track before the full-on celebration of “Meantime”, “Decent Days & Nights” and “Beginning Of The Twist.” During “Skip To The End”, Hyde encouraged everyone to do the “bouncy bounce” and thus had the room wrapped around his finger in time for the sublime chants of “Hounds Of Love.” Not bad for a band believed by many to have faded away after a poor-selling sophomore album. Judging by last night’s energetic crowd, the Futureheads are back where they want to be, kicking and clawing their way through a sweaty punk show like their lives depended on it. Until next time!

More photos, the setlist & a Futureheads tune AFTER THE JUMP…

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Britt Lundborg attended Saturday night’s gig and offers an extensive report! “You’re makin’ love to the past…” Free Energy’s frontman, Paul Sprangers, crooned to the audience of Bowery Ballroom last Saturday night. I couldn’t help but think, “Hmm, pot, kettle, black”? The Philadelphia quintet proudly sex the 70s like Kama Sutra masters. Their riffs and sing-along choruses so blatantly reference classic rock they could be dropped right into radio rotation between Thin Lizzy and T Rex. Except these guys look like they use a fake ID to pick up a sixer. But! A band so baby-faced could only pull such a deliberate nostalgia stunt if the talent was present. Scott Wells, lead guitarist, squeals and slides through riff after riff, blowing sunshine open wide. As he plays, a pheasant feather stuck in his guitar’s strings flitters and dances, like a flag screaming, “Attention: HERE”. Dude, you’ve got my attention purely from the magic you’re able to pull from your guitar. Model-skinny lead-singer Sprangers lithely jumps around the stage, like a goofier Jagger. Even if my authenticity alarm was going off, Free Energy won me over. But what do I matter – bullshit sensitive Pitchfork deemed “Dream City”, a track off their James Murphy-produced Stuck On Nothing, Best New Track and gave the album an 8.1. One can’t but help wonder if the ‘Fork’s love of the LCD frontman had anything to do with giving these Philly boys a nicely warmed hand-job. I do have to admit that there’s something about listening to yesteryear’s music live and not have it be played by men who have a host of grandchildren. Rock does belong to the young.

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Our fab guest blogger, Jordon Chiarelli, shares his thoughts on the brand new album. Holy Fuck’s Brian Borcherdt and his bandmate Graham Walsh, have received massive critical success without a concrete line-up since their inception in 2004. But the two may have a good thing going with bassist Matt McQuaid and drummer Matt Schultz (who have been around longer than most), in terms of the band’s third LP, Latin. The returning foursome and their instrumental melodies sound incredibly tight. Holy Fuck’s philosophy of “anything goes” still holds true on their latest release. “Red Lights”, which follows the album’s climactic & ambient opening track, is one of the groovier segments. The strongest tune, “Pigs”, is harder than many other selections on the record, while “Stilettos” & “Positive Ghosts” are definite high points as well. Holy Fuck delivers with an eclectic and stylish affair which should have your skull pulsating with the proper headphones. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke.

We’re giving away tix to catch Holy Fuck in NYC!

Watch ‘Latin America’ here.

Visit Holy Fuck on MySpace.

MP3: Holy Fuck – Latin America

Greg Jacquin attended last week’s gig and shares the following photos & review. Dr. Dog played host to a packed crowd at New York’s Terminal 5. That’s a big deal! Not just because the band has a new album out called Shame Shame. Not just because the guys had family in the crowd to share their glorious moment but also because this is a little more proof that Dr. Dog is one of the best live acts around today. Guitarist/vocalist Scott McMicken, bassist/vocalist Toby Leaman, guitarist Frank McElroy, keyboardist Zack Miller and new drummer Erik Slick performed live with passion and energy. Before launching into ‘Shadow People’, McMicken told the crowd “This is the last night on this tour” and “This is the biggest show we’ve ever played”. They finished the set with ‘Shame Shame’ and after a short break, McMicken was back on stage addressing us like a group of his buddies. “I saw my parents out there, I spotted them. Hi Mom!” before breaking into the encore, ‘Jackie Wants A Black Eye’. The evening concluded with the band storming through Architecture In Helsinki’s ‘Heart It Races’ and finishing with ‘My Friend’.

More shots, the setlist & a Dr. Dog selection AFTER THE JUMP…

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Britt Lundborg attended yesterday’s gig and offers an extensive report! Last night, Local Natives and Suckers played to a sold-out house at Bowery Ballroom. French Kiss Records is smart to pair these guys together for a road-tour, since the bands complement one another without treading toes. Brooklyn-based foursome Suckers play melodic, yet shouty campfire anthems and LA-bred Local Natives make guitar-plinking sing-alongs.

Neither band is hard to look at either, which always helps.

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