LOCAL EXPOSURE: But wouldn't it be cool if we spelled it with a K *and* an X?

(And after she methodically broke Tynan's fingers one by one, he never played "Seven Nation Army" ever again. © 2008 Benjamin Luk.)

It must get annoying having to spell their band name out every time someone asks them about their MySpace. Anyway.

The Karmacanix are a local seven-piece ska punk group that has no delusions about where they stand in the music world, being comprised mostly of good-for-nothing youngsters who grew up in the troubled 90’s. They can probably attest to the fact that teens from that decade with more developed tastes usually found solace from pop in grunge, shoegaze or electronica tracks. Those rare few who both had taste in music and who also didn’t care to be a moody little piece of shit all the time – let’s face it, Nirvana CDs get left playing in a lot of rooms where kids are left swinging from the ceiling fan – ended up at ska shows.



In many ways, I really didn’t want to like The Karmacanix when I saw them at the Plaza Club on the 24th. Like most 90’s brats, they sing about getting drunk and breaking up, and they’re also sort of full of themselves. (They have a song called “We Are the God Damn Karmacanix”, worth listening to for the politically-incorrect amputee humour alone.) But their redeeming qualities include live shows with more energy than an incontinent meth addict, and a full horn section tighter than a prom date.

With the pop sensibilities of Save Ferris and the technical execution of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, The Karmacanix are a trip back in time to high school. And for once, it’s not a trip that I mind taking.

LIVE WIRE: Mm... tasty chaos...

(Zacky Vengeance of A7X would like to remind you all that you just can't be cool in middle school without wearing sunglasses indoors. © 2008 Kaleena Marie.)

'Cuz Ben's not the only one who can write concert reviews...

... [“A Little Piece of Heaven”] is something that can be classified as an epic. The song, which runs a total of 8 minutes and 1 second, includes a full orchestra and a twelve-piece choir. Although the orchestra and the choir were played from recordings, this song really suited the grandeur of the show. Towards the end, a machine had begun to lay confetti out over the crowd, and the pyrotechnics were out in full force ...

Read the rest of my coverage on Avenged Sevenfold rocking Taste of Chaos at my blog here.

LIVE WIRE: "There's certainly a devil, and he knows my name..."

(In case you were wondering, he slept like a baby. © 2008 Benjamin Luk.)

The devil may know his name, but if you don't know the name of Daniel Johnston, you probably deserve to be drug out into the street and shot. More popular now than ever before thanks to the 2005 documentary film The Devil and Daniel Johnston (which documents the man's entire life and career, from his rise to stardom to his fall from grace as a result of drug abuse and rampant manic depression), Daniel has finally come out of hiding since his troubled years in the 90's and is now touring, living his childhood dream of becoming a rock star and the stuff of folk legend.

At first, I had a hard time placing why Daniel was touring. As far as I knew, Daniel hadn't recorded anything new since 2005, so why tour now? And what would he play? New material or classics from his halcyon days? Once I took the time to revisit his documentary after the concert however, it became painfully obvious. The vast majority of what he played at his Vancouver show on April 19th, 2008 at Richard's on Richards were songs featured very prominently in the film. In other words -- though I'd hate to simplify things to such an extent -- Daniel Johnston was there to capitalize on the success of the film, and he did that by treating the documentary soundtrack as a new album of sorts, promoting it as any other performer would promote the release of a new LP in an effort to gain new fans. And I'd be lying if I said it didn't work.

The tragicomic, almost-Faustian tale of Daniel Johnston is one that certainly helps to contextualize his Vancouver performance. I could sense the initial unease of the room when Dan first appeared and wobbled his way to the mic, shaking head to toe like someone with an advanced case of Parkinson's. Lovingly, he placed a songbook of his lyrics on the music stand in front of him, handling it like a classical composer about to perform his magnum opus. With the help of his acoustic guitarist, we were then treated to samples of his more approachable early work, including "Life in Vain", "Living Life", "Silly Love" and "The Beatles". He then crooned along to a cover of The Beatles' "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away", which everyone naturally sang along to -- "FINALLY, SOMETHING WE KNOW!!!" said the kids -- before announcing that he would be taking a short break. I can't possibly imagine what that break was for. I also can't imagine how anyone could go through four bottles of water in just half an hour.

When Dan came back, he came back with a band. Which sounds good on paper but in reality, was a bit like spiking Bailey's with beer. The absolutely soulless backing band may as well have been doing cover songs at Happy Hour in some equally soulless pub where the lonely go to drink and the drunks go to brood. Heck, they even went so far as to bring the beardo guitarist in the fedora. You know, the one who's in every fucking pub band ever?!? Actually, I'm not being fair to the beardo. He was probably the most talented one there, peppering Daniel's music with the occasional warbling solo that would later turn "Rock & Roll / EGA" into the pounding, foot-stomping finale it was. By the way, for all those who were wondering, the 'EGA' bit in the song title means nothing more significant than the E-G-A chord progression in the last half of the song. Special thanks to Your Subculture Soundtrack for straightening that out.

Daniel's encore consisted of his usual closing anthem: "True Love Will Find You in the End". A particularly brilliant and soulful song, it appears that Daniel's taken some note of the many covers of this tune since its initial recording in 1984 on Retired Boxer, and made an effort to tone down the enthusiastic strumming that I personally felt to be a weakness of his original. (I have a soft spot for the Matthew Good version myself.) Finally, as another staple of Daniel's live show, he got the crowd to sing along with him a cappella to "Devil Town".

Overall, this was a show that seemed shorter than what we should've gotten for the $30 ticket price, but to many, you just can't put a price on seeing a living legend on what could very well be one of his last tours.

LIVE WIRE: A one-woman show that blows.

(No one seemed particularly concerned that Khaela would intermittently pet her imaginary unicorn friend between songs. © 2008 Benjamin Luk.)

The Blow is Portland, Oregon-based electro-pop artist Khaela Maricich; or at the very least, it was when I saw her at St. James Hall last Thursday. Back in 2006 when Paper Television was being recorded, Khaela had the musical mixmaster expertise of Jona Bechtolt of YACHT behind her, ensuring that the deceptively simple hey-boy, why-you-didn't-call-me lovey-doveyness of her choruses didn't end up sounding like so much other teeniebopper shit on the airwaves. Instead of the formulaic cookie-cutter melodies we've come to associate with choruses like Khaela's, Bechtolt was able to inseminate her words with a glitch-hop punch, allowing each song to mutate into a musical genre bastard child that could just as easily find its way onto a 13-year-old girl's iPod as a European hipster dance floor. It's also worth mentioning that Khaela actually puts effort into her lyrics, even though that gets overshadowed somewhat by Bechtolt's contributions to the album. Some of her lines are sheer poetry: "Your depths made a pressure that punctured my works / And all your fluids couldn't tolerate the force of my thirst / I love the place where we shared our tiny grace / But because it's real doesn't mean it's gonna work". The Blow sounds simple, but there's a very literate, very intelligent sense of whimsy hovering just below the surface.

Khaela's live show is something to behold as well. Before Paper Television, The Blow was very much a solo project, and thanks to years and years of having to perform solo, Khaela's as comfortable alone onstage as a pig in poop, despite Bechtolt being long gone. Looking a bit like a down-on-her-luck soccer mom prone to pounding back the cooking sherry, she wandered out onto a bare stage following a particularly troubled Secret Mommy set and, into the silence, began an a cappella rendition of "The Big U". The backing track kicked in shortly after, pounding and echoing off the walls of what was normally a spare chapel and with that, we readied ourselves for a highly-energetic one-woman show. 

Everyone's seen Napoleon Dynamite, right? You know that scene at the end when Napoleon feels the need to prove his worth and figures that there's no better way of doing that than by flailing around like a ballet dancer getting an enema? That's sort of like what was going on here. During the instrumental breakdowns of crowd pleasers like "Pile of Gold" and "Pardon Me", Khaela's drunken-white-girl brand of uncoordinated thrusting had the audience laughing as much as grooving. Finishing on "Parentheses" and "True Affection", she toned down the wackiness and for once, let her music speak for itself, which may just be what she'd needed to do all along.

Ultimately though, I've been listening to too much of this indie-pop dancey crap lately. For those of you who are thinking about checking out The Blow, be forewarned: Like real blow, The Blow is a drug best taken in small doses.

General update #2.

(Just when the boys of Empire Alley thought things couldn't get any more awkward, lead singer Sonny suddenly became very aroused. © 2008 Benjamin Luk.)

Holy crap, has it ever been a crazy month. All of us here in the office have been busy slaving away on other projects and haven't quite had the time to go to any shows as of late. Sadly, we thought we were a shoo-in for the Cat Power show at the Vogue Theatre, but because we're still, in the eyes of upper level management, a small-time blog, we were unceremoniously denied access and because of that, all we've got is a review of Cat Power's latest album Jukebox, penned by local musician Pearce Donnelly, below. At the very least, it's a pretty good fucking review. I apologize for the lack of content lately, but if you're willing to stay with us, we promise nothing short of excellence within a few short months.

A lot's happened within the past little while. Local pop-rock stallions Empire Alley are all set to release their first full-length album (and had commissioned yours truly to help in shooting their promo materials), and if all goes according to plan, we've got live reviews of The Blow, Daniel Johnston and The Last Scene coming up in our near future. As always, we're doing it for you guys, the fans. After all, we all have jobs where we spend eight hours a day shitting money. We do what we do for the love of it, so call us up if you want to cuddle. Especially if you're hot.

Anyway, this is just so you all know we're not dead or dying in any way, shape or form. We're just hibernating for the time being, so we can scare the shit out of the pilgrims when we wake and feed on the blood of the living. So fuck procrastination and fuck you guys all buggering off to some other site. We're back, and we're here to stay.

Empire Alley play their CD release party with Broken Condom Babies and Calcutta Crime Spree tomorrow night, April 12th, 2008 at the Cambrian Hall on Main and 17th. Doors at 8 pm.

See you all in a week.

OFF THE RECORD: Cat Power - Jukebox

(Courtesy of Matador Records.)

I first came across Cat Power a little over a year ago. I was having one of those awful toss-and-turn nights and ended up flipping on the TV to find the highlights of the Austin City Limits Festival playing. Chan Marshall, better known as Cat Power, was singing a beautiful and desperately sad song called “The Greatest” in a thin, smoky voice that seemed in danger of floating off into the ether. I went back to bed and bought the album the next day. It’s now one of my favourite albums of all time.

Jukebox, however, is a different affair altogether. Whilst The Greatest saw Ms. Marshall surrounded by a veritable sea of musicians, Jukebox sees Chan backed by the four-piece Dirty Delta Blues, augmented with the odd guest musician here and there. And it’s a covers album.

But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The first five songs kick off the album in high gear. Cat Power’s re-imagining of “New York” is short and soulful, while “Ramblin' (Wo)man” takes the dark lyrics of the Hank Williams original and deftly evokes the loneliness within them. “Metal Heart”, a Cat Power original that first appeared on 1998’s Moon Pix, builds to a heady climax, as does “Aretha, Sing One For Me”, while “Silver Stallion” makes the most out of the Blues’ folksy small band dynamic, bringing to mind images of burnt-out cigarettes and riding off into the sunset.

Disappointingly, after the bravura opener, the album loses its way. “Lost Someone” just limps out of the speakers with none of the swagger of the James Brown version, and “Lord, Help the Poor and Needy” is the epitome of filler. Thankfully, Jukebox gets back on track with a soulful cover of Bob Dylan’s gospel era “I Believe in You”. The band sounds tight and focused, recording engineer Stuart Sikes pulls a magnificent 70’s classic rock crispness out of Jim White’s drum track, and Chan lets her love of the classic Dylan song shine through, sounding alive and energized. The only problem is that it fades out just as the band starts to let loose.

Following that is another one of the album’s highlights, “Song to Bobby”, which is essentially a love letter from Cat Power to Bob Dylan set to music. But after that touching homage, Jukebox slides off the map for good. “Don’t Explain” drags, “Women Left Lonely” is background music to wash the dishes to, and while Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” is a great song, as the closer on Jukebox, it leaves something to be desired.

It’s not The Greatest, but for an album mostly made up of covers, it succeeds surprisingly often.