SHOW REVIEW: Alt-J at Red Rocks (Westword 7/28/2015)

“Maths and Sex”: The Pulse of Alt-J at Red Rocks
by Adam Perry for Westword 7/28/2015

Since debuting with the beautifully eccentric An Awesome Wave in 2012, Alt-J (which has described its songs as being about “maths and sex”) has become a stalwart at major music festivals around the world, sampling — and befriending — Miley Cyrus, picking up a Grammy nomination for last year’s This Is All Yours, and building successful 2013 and 2014 Fillmore gigs into last night’s sold-out headlining slot at Red Rocks.

Music bouncing off the mountains as Denver loomed in the distance, there was an element of Alt-J’s velvety, angular folktronica that transcended the English quartet’s refined romanticism – dipped in funk reminiscent of, though slower than, early ‘80s Talking Heads – to touch on the truly, gloriously ridiculous. Imagine the bleeding-heart lament of the Cure’s Disentegration juxtaposed with more playful, dancable pop and a game of Mad Libs. At times, that pleasing ridiculousness brought to mind the two American guys who racked up over two million views on YouTube in May by aptly poking fun at guitarist/singer Joe Newman’s singular nasal playfulness and the group’s signature vocals-and-synth pulse.

But the young Brits impressively showed the big Red Rocks crowd (whose members are almost exclusively in their twenties and thirties) how lyrics that touch on math, sex with brooms, Japanese deer and references to both Roald Dahl and Maurice Sendak (sung not unlike Adam Sandler regaling a lunch lady) can translate into worldwide rock stardom.

“We’re so glad this night has finally arrived,” unassuming keyboardist/vocalist Gus Unger-Hamilton remarked after the atmospheric opener, “Hunger of the Pine,” from An Awesome Wave. “We’ve been looking forward to this pretty much forever.”

Unique drummer Thom Green, who mixes a gaggle of electronic drums with humble percussion (bongos, tambourine, etc.), shined on the sincerely weird “Fitzpleasure,” a darkly funny funk workout that essentially challenges listeners to pretend they know the lyrics. Newman’s abstract line “Deep greedy and Googling every corner” served as a quick prelude to Alt-J’s marvelous light show, which has expanded since the band played the Fillmore in October, intermittently either reminiscent of the indistinguishable, twinkling city lights far from Red Rocks or lyrically vibrating and changing shape along with the music. Spotlighting each Alt-J member and each song’s nuances (which, notably, are driven at times by guitar, keyboards, drums or simply vocals), Alt-J’s light show was a more focused, tasteful take on the kind of giant, “whoa”-inspiring light show for which Phish has long been famous.

Not that Alt-J is all fat, funky rock and irreverent lyrics supported by a kind of living, breathing stage set. Green, whose underrated, loping style is highlighted by his choice to play without cymbals, is alone worth the price of admission to an Alt-J show if you can get close enough to see how he fluidly moves around the drum kit. Green suffers from Alport syndrome, which has rendered him around 80 percent deaf, and at Red Rocks was effectively Alt-J’s quarterback through subtle dream-works like “Matilda” and oscillating, dance-inducing soundscapes “Dissolve Me” and “Every Other Freckle.”

Surprisingly, the nexus of Alt-J’s one-hour (only one hour?!) Red Rocks set — punctuated with a four-song encore that, like the Fillmore show in October, ended with the twisted sing-along “Breezeblocks” — was Newman and Green’s a cappella duet “The Ripe & Ruin.” The quixotic piece of poetry, which seems like a riddle when you actually read the lyrics, froze many in the 9,500-strong Red Rocks crowd before melting into “Tessellate.” There’s nothing quite like that mid-summer moment when a group of musicians in their prime (treating us to that sweet spot before they’ve written any songs that suck) make a huge, legendary outdoor venue feel impossibly intimate.

THE TEN MOST UNDERRATED DRUMMERS IN ROCK HISTORY (Westword, 1/6/2015)

The Ten Most Underrated Drummers in Rock History
by Adam Perry for Westword, 1/6/2015

With all the real injustice on the streets — and in the courtrooms — of America currently, you might consider it trivial to examine ten drummers who deserve more credit and attention than they’ve received. And you’d be right. But music is, if nothing else, a way to make sense of this wicked world through pure release; ostensibly, music geekdom — enjoying and dissecting — is a meaningful part of that release.

Widely read drum magazines, like their guitar counterparts, focus almost exclusively on musicians who want to stand out, often fatefully above the strength of a song, and who often sound like they’re getting paid by the note. We’re here to instead celebrate originality and overall effectiveness, rather than monster fills and rotating double-bass drumkits. Up for discussion below is a list of extraordinary drummers who are rarely, if ever, mentioned among the greats in rock history.

10. Aynsley Dunbar

Legend has it that Jimi Hendrix decided on Mitch Mitchell as his drummer for the Experience via coin flip; the reason for that flip was Aynsley Dunbar, a twenty-year-old Liverpool kid. Dunbar went on to play in two English institutions: John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and the Jeff Beck Group before kicking all kinds of ass on about a dozen albums by some mad American genius named Frank Zappa. Dunbar’s simultaneously languid and hard-hitting style — most notably heard on well-known Zappa jams like “Transylvania Boogie” and Zappa classical freakouts like “Big Swifty” — is a more precise, intellectual-but-explosive version of Keith Moon, sounding less like the grand-finale of a fireworks show than a captivating lead-up. After starring on a couple of classic early ’70s albums by David Bowie and Lou Reed (Diamond Dogs and Berlin), Dunbar’s talents were somewhat wasted in collaboration with the likes of Sammy Hagar, Whitesnake and Journey; probably for that reason, he is terribly overlooked as one of classic rock’s most exciting and important drummers.

9. Stephanie Bailey (The Black Angels)

The Black Angels emerged out of Austin with a bang when 2006’s Passover was released, and drummer Stephanie Bailey — straight-faced and svelte with long blonde hair, preferring fury over flourish — has been the bold glue keeping the band’s hard-hitting psychedelic grooves together from the start. She plays nary a fill; plays a sparse kit; and leads the Black Angels’ dark, tribal stomps with beats that a friend recently described as having an “economy of language” not unlike Ezra Pound’s poetry. Sometimes being flashy and outgoing doesn’t make the most powerful drummer, and that’s definitely the case with Bailey, whose floor-shaking rhythms on tracks like “First Vietnamese War” and “You On the Run” juxtapose the simplicity of Maureen Tucker with the depth-charge drumming of Dave Grohl circa In Utero.

8. Topper Headon

The darkhorse, as far as musicianship goes, in the first wave of punk was Topper Headon. Before updating his wardrobe and learning to ride his floor tom in order to join the Clash in 1977 — just after the punk legends’ eponymous debut was released — Headon was a jazz-head who played progressive rock and R&B. The impeccable timing and chops Headon brought to the Clash helped them transcend punk with 1979’s diverse rock ‘n’ roll clinic London Calling and then experiment with rap, soul, reggae, calypso and even gospel a year later on the 36-track smorgasbord Sandanista!. Headon, who was sacked by the Clash in 1982 due to drug addiction, even wrote the classic piano hook that drives “Rock the Casbah,” which reached #8 on the U.S. singles chart. While countless other punk bands imploded with no means of evolving, the Clash’s catalog evolved Beatles-like in just five short years; without Headon, one of the most underrated drummers in rock’s history, the Clash’s exceptional musical growth (and continued influence) would not have been possible.

7. Greg Saunier (Deerhoof)

Deerhoof’s gangly, eccentric drummer Greg Saunier — famously called “virtuosic” by the New Yorker — is a veritable powder keg behind the drums. Saunier’s struggles with Tourette syndrome partly fuel his bombastic musicianship, which is captivating in the studio and jaw-dropping in concert, which is where he’s turned heads captaining Deerhoof’s marriage of ambitiously cute and explosively maniacal. Saunier makes a comically small drumkit, often with just one cymbal, sound like an avant-garde orchestra — like Keith Moon jamming with Frank Zappa — and can also get a stuffy indie crowd bopping with funky Deerhoof classics like “Spirit Ditties of No Tone.” Saunier, the driving force behind one of the few truly unique acts in the last two decades of American popular music, deserves a lot more attention in the pantheon of great rock drummers.

6. Thom Green (Alt-J)

When English folktronica act Alt-J sold out the Fillmore in December this past October, its most impressive element was the dynamic drumming of young Thom Green, who got the 4,000-strong Denver crowd bouncing with fervor while having only a tambourine, electronic pads, a couple of real drums, congas and a cowbell at his disposal. Playing a drum kit without cymbals — a revolutionary tactic in a craft that virtually never questions tradition — seems to unlock Green’s playful creativity, and playful creativity defines Alt-J. He deserves attention as one of modern rock ‘n’ roll’s most exciting young musicians.

5. Hal Blaine

One would think that a drummer who played on six consecutive Grammy-winning singles and 50 number-one hits would be consistently hailed as one of the legends of his craft, but Hal Blaine — whose impeccable timekeeping is featured on everything from “Can’t Help Falling in Love” to “Good Vibrations” — is a generally a mere footnote. Known mostly for the unmistakable intro to “Be My Baby” by the Ronettes, Blaine was the veritable drum machine of early rock ‘n’ roll and, in the musically rich ’60s, played on hits by the Byrds, the Mamas and the Papas, Frank Sinatra and a list of other bigtime artists nearly as long as Kerouac’s original scroll of On the Road. Not only underrated, Blaine is underestimated — he’s still alive, at age 85, and deserves any accolade he’s yet to receive.

4. Pete Thomas

Like Hal Blaine, Pete Thomas’ sticks are responsible for some iconic intros that even casual music lovers recognize instantly. The heroically gifted Thomas, however, wrote those iconic intros for songs by just one artist: Elvis Costello. Thomas, as a member of the Attractions and later the Imposters, has lent thunderous, soulful and nimble beats to Costello’s eclectic catalog, and first made his mark with the opening angular-reggae salvo of “Watching the Detectives.” Thomas has collaborated with the likes of John Paul Jones, Elliot Smith and Lucinda Williams, but it’s his longtime musical relationship with Costello, whose best work has been supported and highlighted by Thomas’ decisive and powerful beats, that’s made him one of rock’s most respected, yet rarely lauded, drummers.

3. Tommy Ramone

Born in Budapest to a Holocaust-surviving Jewish mother and father, Erdélyi Tamás was an unlikely candidate to invent punk-rock drumming, but as Tommy Ramone he gave the gift of simple, supercharged drumming from the boredom-filled Queens of the early ’70s to several generations of stick-wielding maniacs. Ramone’s drumming on early Ramones favorites such as “Beat on the Brat” and “I Don’t Want to Walk Around With You” seem like they came screaming out of a musical void to change music forever, and his no-frills performance on It’s Alive (a 1977 London concert that served as Punk 101 for a wave of British copycats) is as impressive, at least, as Keith Moon’s famed work on Live at Leeds.

2. Carlton Barrett

Not many musicians in history have had a greater influence on nearly every genre as Bob Marley, and Carlton Barrett — mellifluous, original, thick and precise — was Marley’s drummer. Without Barrett, the pseudo-Jamaican hythms of bands like Sublime, 311, No Doubt, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Clash, Fishbone and countless others might have no foundation. Funky, smooth and strong, but memorably hazy, as if it was played with two joints, Barrett’s drumming was a relaxed revelation. Unfortunately, he was shot to death at age 36 at his Kingston home.

1. Ringo Starr

In the most famous band of all time, of course Ringo Starr is one of the most famous drummers of all time, but he never seems to be considered a great musician, just a quirky, loveable Liverpool kid who lucked out by getting served a fantastic opportunity. Without Starr, however, the Beatles might have had a hard time transitioning from fun-loving mop-top stars to some of history’s greatest songwriters. Ringo’s breathtaking inventiveness on tracks such as “In My Life,” “Something” and “Paperback Writer” is often overlooked as nothing more than “straightforward,” but Ringo’s Zen-like minimalism with the Beatles — which influenced virtually every quality drummer since him — was deceptively ingenious, inspired and underrated.

THE FEW, THE PROUD, THE MEMORABLE (Boulder Weekly 12/25/2014)

THE FEW, THE PROUD, THE MEMORABLE
A Review of Some of 2014’s Best Music
by Adam Perry for Boulder Weekly, 12/25/2014

Taylor Swift, who says she looks at albums as “sort of statements,” has sold an awful lot of albums this year. The unabashedly pop (as opposed to country-pop, her previous focus)1989 sold more than a million albums in its first week and has spent a total of 29 weeks at #1.

What kind of statement was Swift making with 1989? Well, she “felt like making a pop album.” Not that there’s anything wrong with great pop music, or wrong with you if you enjoy Taylor Swift, who is pretty hard to ignore. But 1989 is what Kurt Cobain would call a “radio-friendly unit shifter.” It’s a carefully calculated business venture by a young woman who was riding her crazy-wealthy family’s ponies while in diapers, successfully lobbied her parents to move to Nashville at 11 so she could become a star, and now gets paid more than $50 million a year to do many things associated with being a mega-famous musical celebrity, one of which is singing.

Point is, a few years from now you’ll be hard-pressed to remember one song from 1989.

In this, my seventh-annual feature for Boulder Weekly on my favorite albums of the year, I aim — as ever — to share with you some essential “statements” you may have missed, whether because they weren’t on the radio or because you don’t have the pleasure — or misfortune — of receiving a hundred press releases a day like I do. In my humble opinion, these are 10 records you’re sure to remember, and maybe cherish. Have fun listening, and debating.

Damon Albarn: ‘Everyday Robots’

At 46 years old, with a well-known career as a pop vocalist in Blur and Gorillaz, few would have predicted the English singer-songwriter Damon Albarn not only releasing his first-ever solo album but making it a profound, spacey treatise on life in the ever-distancing digital world.

Everyday Robots, with its dreamy opening track of the same name, is a much more strippeddown OK Computer in a world where technology has become even more of a worldwide obsession. Gorillaz is known as a “virtual band,” but Everyday Robots, with lyrics like “when you’re lonely, press play” and “it’s hard to be a lover when the TV’s on and nothing’s in your eye” is a mellow, haunting, electro-pop journey through the sadly habitual virtual reality we live in.

Future Islands: ‘Singles’

It’s a fun game, playing the addictive, romantic, live electronica of Future Islands’ brilliant new albumSingles for someone and asking what he or she thinks emotive vocalist Samuel T. Herring looks like. “Very ’80s” was one comment I got. “Something like Flock of Seagulls?” was another. Watching the Baltimore band’s unforgettable performance of “Seasons” on Letterman — it’s been viewed on YouTube 3 million times — is a revelation. Herring, a Southern-born gentleman in neat clothes and short, dark hair, looks like a young Marlon Brando and takes pain and passion to heights rock has seldom seen. He brutally punches himself. He licks his fingers like a madman. He stresses random words with a guttural howl that seems to come from another plane of existence. He dances in crouched, near-fetal position. Somehow, not a moment seems contrived. And yes, the whole album is that good, that inspirational.

First Aid Kit: ‘Stay Gold’

The young Swedish sister act First Aid Kit has come a long way since initially gaining attention by posting a homemade video of a Fleet Foxes cover — recorded in a forest, no less — online as teenagers six years ago. Now an international success, First Aid Kit marked the release of its galloping third album, Stay Gold, with a video for “My Silver Lining” that finds Johanna and Klara Söderberg (now 21 and 24) cruising in a convertible around sunny Los Angeles. Sure, some of the lyrics on Stay Gold, less purely poetic than the stunning Lion’s Roar, can be called “naïve wisdom,” but these baby-faced Swedes can sing and play as wonderfully as Nashville’s finest.

Alt-J: ‘This is All Yours’

The English “folktronica” band Alt-J sold out the Fillmore in Denver back in October, and — in the most awkward, honest terms I can provide — the performance was a phenomenon of unique, slow dance-rock without cymbals. Nary an inch of Fillmore space wasn’t being bounced on as the quartet — playing mesmerizing, eccentric electronic music that, like Future Islands’, is all live — stood as stone-faced as its dreary sophomore LP, This is All Yours, would suggest. Unlike the utterly fun An Awesome Wave (2012), the tranquil “song cycle” that is This is All Yours strangely and silkily takes listeners to and from the ancient Japanese city of Nara, a trip that includes some seriously weird expressions of love (“turn you inside out and lick you like a crisp packet,” etc.). Most of the lyrics, as ever, are incomprehensible, but it’s Alt- J’s beautiful, syncopated group harmonies and aforementioned thick, slow beats without cymbals that justifiably landed This is All Yours at #1 on the U.K. charts and #4 in the States.

Andrew Bird: ‘Things Are Really Great Here, Sort Of…’

Anyone who has attended one of Andrew Bird’s magical performances at the cavernous old Chautauqua Auditorium in Boulder in recent summers has learned that the violinist/guitarist/ vocalist/whistler can do a lot more than juxtapose world-class bursts of musical virtuosity with mindexpanding wordplay. The Chicago genius is as American as W.C. Fields with a dobro, and his new album (it’s a slow year for Bird when he releases only one album) is a tribute to the songs of The Handsome Family, an Albuquerque-via-Chicago husband-and-wife duo that writes songs as quirky and touching as Bird’s but much more narrative, and somewhat gothic.

Lana Del Rey: ‘Ultraviolence’

Something tells me I should hate this album. Lana Del Rey has glorified violence against women, extramarital affairs and suicide. Like Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift, her route to hitting #1 on the Billboard charts was eased by her extremely wealthy roots. Del Rey (born Lizzy Grant in New York City to an entrepreneur and an account executive) was even lampooned for her exceptionally crappySaturday Night Live performance in 2012. But from the opening moments ofUltraviolence, Del Rey’s third LP, I was surprised by what gloriously twisted, lovesick album it reminded me of: Bob Dylan’s classic Time Out of Mind. With the help of Dan Auerbach, the whole “stiff, distant and weird” thing actually works for Del Rey on much ofUltraviolence, especially during the orchestral blues of “Cruel World” and the dark, hilarious satire of “Brooklyn Baby.” The sleek guitar-noir of “West Coast” is also a highlight. This is definitely not an album to ignore on reputation alone.

The War On Drugs: ‘Lost in the Dream’

For a little Indiana label Secretly Canadian, which boasts under-the-radar greats like Luke Temple and Antony Hegarty, to release an album that reached #26 on the Billboard charts might seem like a fluke, but Lost in the Dream’s radiance was no accident. The War On Drugs spent two years making its third, and best, album; it is clearly the result of frontman/songwriter Adam Granduciel’s love of both classic American “layman rock” (Springsteen, the Eagles, Tom Petty) and drugged-out space madness like Spiritualized. Focusing on a tempo and feel eerily “Boys of Summer”-esque, Lost in the Dream is easy to fall in love with. Granduciel italicizes and narrates like Dylan; the whole band is remarkably tight, and clearly having a blast; and the balance between technology and wholesome acoustic rock births something like Pink Floyd with Rick Danko replacing Roger Waters.

Laura Mvula: ‘Laura Mvula with Metropole Orkest conducted by Jules Buckley at Abbey Road Studios’

While Lana Del Rey’s Ultraviolence, with its nightmarish romance and gloomy wit, reminded me at times of Time Out of Mind, Laura Mvula, a 28-yearold English songstress, released an ambitious orchestral album that brought to mind Sketches of Spain. Like Miles Davis’ singular instrumental voice leading a Gil Evans-led orchestra, the rebellious, empowered love songs on Sing to the Moon (Mvula’s 2013 debut), get big, (mostly) tasteful symphonic treatment on this exciting release, and Mvula’s confident, heavenly voice and defiant lyrics are the centerpiece.

Against Me!: ‘Transgender Dysphoria Blues’

There isn’t enough space in an issue of Boulder Weekly to discuss the poignance and importance of Transgender Dysphoria Blues, the powerfully honest album that vaunted Against Me! from respected, successful punks to spokesmen for the international LGBT community. On the five Against Me! albums prior toTransgender — which is full of energetic, well-written power-punk — frontwoman Laura Jane Grace identified herself as a man named Tom Gabel. Now, still married (to the visual artist Heather Hannoura) with a young daughter, Grace is undergoing medical transition, mostly hormones, and considering full sex-reassignment therapy. From the start, the album is fantastic: Fierce as ever as a band, Against Me! now juxtaposes hard-charging punk with heartfelt lyrics such as “you should’ve been a mother / you should’ve been a wife…you should be living a different life.” It’s an inspiration for anyone afraid to be themselves.

Sylvan Esso: ‘Sylvan Esso’

Based in North Carolina, Sylvan Esso’s playful electro-pop is programmed by Nick Sanborn and sung by the exuberant Amelia Meath, who blew away the Boulder Theater a few years ago as a member of the pastoral Vermont vocal group Mountain Man. Sylvan Esso — which transforms Mountain Man’s quirky “Play It Right” into a bass-heavy, uplifting dance number on its eponymous debut — is a pleasant surprise for Mountain Man fans waiting patiently the last four years for a follow-up to the landmark Made the Harbor. The duo played a hypnotic version of “Coffee” with Questlove on Jimmy Fallon in July and — with the vivacious beats and provocative lyrics of Sylvan Esso, which quickly found critical and commercial success — has generally been channeling the Tank Girl fashion and attitude Meath has seemed to be somewhat holding back in Mountain Man.

SHOW REVIEW: Alt-J at the Fillmore, Denver 10/28/2014

SHOW REVIEW:
Alt-J at the Fillmore, Denver
10/28/2014
by Adam Perry for Westword

For an internationally successful pop act like Alt-J to draw a massive audience that was less loud-mouthed bro-downers and screaming teenagers than 20-somethings dancing elegantly on every spare piece of Fillmore floor – and stairway, to security’s dismay – was a pleasant surprise last night. But it was during the rising English “folktronica” quartet’s stunningly original version of the Bill Withers classic “Lovely Day,” the entrance to a four-song encore, that it hit me: slow is cool. Slow is powerful. Slow may even be the new fast.

Forgoing the well-known hook of “Lovely Day,” in which the title is repeatedly quickly, Alt-J – named after the ∆ symbol on a Mac – deepened, and somehow made cinematic, an already almost mythical groove by projecting the feeling of inspirational descent that pervades the group’s music. Watching a sold-out (4,000-plus) Fillmore, full of young (and, I think, more than half female) and enthusiastic concertgoers, bounce, hands in the air like it was a Wiz Khalifa show, to such intellectually entrancing music was somewhat of a revelation.

On its two enjoyable studio albums (the most recent of which hit #1 in the UK) Alt-J – formed in 2007 – sometimes falls short of aspirations that ostensibly include merging the mesmerizing sonic fury of Foals (albeit in half-time) and post-2000 Radiohead with the dreamy atmospherics of Sigur Ros and the whiteboy disco of classless electro jammers like Particle. Part of the problem is Joe Newman’s sometimes-laughable Brett Dennen-esque high-pitched drawl, which is alternately grating and endearing; part is a whiff of surprisingly amateurish engineering, and a lingering sense of pandering. But from the first notes of the Alt-J’s sold-out performance at the Fillmore, something profound seemed to move both band and writhing audience: the aforementioned descending grooves and polyrhythms reminiscent of the widely held belief that James Brown saw every instrument in his band, including vocals, as percussion.

The keyboards, vocals, guitars and drums of Alt-J – its members’ serious onstage attitudes, complimented by a sleek light show, the antithesis of teeny-bopper opening act Lovelife – were just that: disparate instruments used as connected percussion, not unlike the intro to Herbie Hancock’s “Watermelon Man,” to create something so appealing – yet, quixotically, somewhat dolorous – that Fillmore ushers were inspired to move garbage cans out of the way to give revelers more dancing space.

Drummer Thom Green was the glue. For such a huge sound to move such a huge audience without cymbals (or more than a hint of electronic cymbals) was impressive, as was the fact that Green’s drumming garnered such comments around me as “This drummer shreds!” without playing many fills whatsoever. The lack of cymbals let Green and his bandmates get classily funky without Alt-J’s cascading guitars and nasal vocals having to fight for treble over thick, intensely mellow dance beats that, again, propelled the huge Denver audience to jump around like an upbeat hiphop band was on display.

Earlier this year at the Ogden, I was struck by how Talking Heads-like the aerobic stage presence and upbeat, cerebral music of Foals was, but (more in concert than on record) Alt-J also takes a page from Byrne & Co.’s heyday by doing something exceptionally artful with truly accessible music. Closing its encore with the deceptively disturbing “Breezeblocks,” with its “please don’t go / I’ll eat you whole / I love you so” chorus, Alt-J sounded a little like Modest Mouse covering Remain in Light, energizing with descent. As on “Bloodflood, Pt. II,” slow was funky and love was more than a little mad.