SHOW REVIEW: School of Seven Bells

Tuesday night School of Seven Bells played the first of two sold-out shows at the Mercury Lounge, and thanks to the miracle of Craigslist, the AudioFemme editors were in attendance. The date was of particular significance to the band, as it coincided with the release of their phenomenal third album, Ghostory.  

The year between Ghostory’s release and that of 2010’s Disconnect From Desire was fraught with change for SVIIB, seeing the somewhat mysterious departure of Claudia Deheza.  For a band whose sound and image hinged on the dual vocals and dramatic image of twins Alejandra and Claudia, the parting of ways carried with it many unanswered questions, and is still a sensitive topic that the band does not like to broach.  As longtime fans of SVIIB, we at AudioFemme were interested to see how the band would evolve and adapt. With little idea what to expect from the new album or subsequent live performances in support of it, we're happy to report that on both fronts, all is well.

L: It had been a while since I’d seen SVIIB, the last time being at a CMJ showcase in 2008 at Le Poisson Rouge.  At that time, Alpinisms was coming out or had just been released and I was obsessed with it.  I begged my way into the showcase for discounted admission and was treated to one of the loudest, most psychedelic live experiences I’d had to that point.  It was my first CMJ and I remember feeling so alive and thankful to be in NYC, and nothing embodied that feeling more than SVIIB’s intoxicating set.  It is crazy to think of how many years have passed since then, and even more baffling that I’ve somehow missed every other date they’ve played in the city.

Seeing them at Mercury Lounge was a real reminder of what I’d been missing.  They’re such a solid live band.  It was about halfway through the set, after a particularly rousing tune from the new album, that Ben said “Let’s get this party started” and even though the audience was a bit reluctant to do so (it was an early show, after all) all of the set list was dance-worthy.  Their performances are imbued with this sort of mystical element.  Alley has this shamanistic sort of presence, which her style definitely lends itself to - for last night’s show she was decked in silver chains and shimmery white eye-makeup.  But it’s not just a costume. Her face and voice are so expressive, pleading, and powerful.  The songs become incantations, invitations to let everything go.  They played a nice mix of old and new jams, but it all blended together seamlessly, which speaks volumes not just about strength of the music but also the ability of the band to grow and change and transcend any challenges or hardships or confusion that may have occurred in dealing with Claudia’s absence.  Adeptly filling her shoes was keyboardist Allie Alvarado, a D.C. - based performer who has released solo material under the moniker Painted Face and has played guitar with Brooklyn-based electronica outfit Telepathe. Even on their iconic dual-vocaled hit, “Half Asleep” she stepped up to the challenge beautifully and enthusiastically. Video for the track is below, followed by Annie's ruminations on the set.

A: Holy shit. I was truly floored by this performance. I don’t know exactly what’s changed so significantly about them in the interim months since last I saw them live (I’ve probably been to the bulk of their New York shows since Disconnect came out two years ago), but I have my suspicions. And though I’ve always loved going to see them play, there was something particularly arresting about the way they sounded last night. Perhaps it was their post album-release ebullience--especially considering Ghostory’s ubiquitously positive (fanatically positive, even?) reception in the blogosphere and beyond; perhaps it was the terrific sound mix at what is an otherwise hit-or-miss venue. Perhaps it was the addition of a keyboardist/co-vocalist, or the amazing drummer who played along like a human metronome to such rhythmically complex tunes. Perhaps performing new songs invariably re-energizes any group dynamic. I imagine it’s an amalgam of all those things.

But there was something else too. Something more difficult to pin down; but something also more indelible. What immediately comes to mind is Beethoven’s Eroica - his momentous 3rd Symphony -the two opening chords of which signify, to many, the end of the Classical era in music. You’re probably so damn confused right now, thinking “What the hell is this woman talking about? Why must she bring Beethoven into this? Why???”

Let me explain: The Eroica symphony is one of revolt and upheaval, evident in the first ten seconds of score. Beethoven defies, even flouts symphonic convention by refusing to offer up any thematic indicators in that famous first phrase, and instead opts for two sharp, abrasive, a-tonal chords in an E-flat major that hits you over the head. They sound like someone wiping their hands clean (of the Classical era?), and I imagine these few measures had the very first audience members as equally confused as they were captivated. Anyway, a ton could be said about the historical context for this gambit (Ludwig was rumored to be a big fan of Napoleon), but in terms of its musical significance, I feel it was more of a move on Beethoven's part to begin paving his own way in the larger scheme of his creative life, not to mention the musical zeitgeist in which he lived; it seems he wished to leave the past in its proverbial dustbin, and instead look onto the unfathomable horizons that lay outstretched before him. Indeed, he dove in, and subsequently shaped for the world a whole new era that would turn out to be (in my own opinion) the antecedent to nearly every genre that you love, that you can name. Classical gave way to Romantic, which gave way to everything.

So anyway, back to SVIIB and how my Beethoven tangent is in any way relevant to this show: The opening interlude to their set was so different from what one might normally hear from them. It lasted about 30 seconds. It was loud and cohesive and joyous, rather than dreamy and introverted and (intentionally) disjointed sounding in that shoegaze-ish kind of way. And everything that followed, followed suit. It almost seemed like they were trying to send us the message that we should just put to rest our expectations and conceits about who they are and what they mean as a group. And it seemed they wanted to surprise us, too. To frame it in terms of a shameless cliche, they actually seemed, right in that moment, to have ‘arrived’, in a way.  

In any case, they played plenty of old songs, but they were all infused with a totally different kind of energy and a noticeable lack of self-consciousness. Their new songs were wonderful and made me look forward to listening more closely to Ghostory. This is a band whose longevity in this industry (whatever the “industry” really is, at this point--beats me) is as assured as their talent is obvious. But they are trailblazing as well. Toward what? I don’t know. But I can’t wait to find out.


SVIIB play their second show tonight at Mercury Lounge, followed by a brief stint in Europe and tour throughout the US in April and May.  Ghostory is available now via Vagrant Records/Ghostly International.

SHOW REVIEW: Cate le Bon w/ Pigeons

There is something irresistibly intriguing about Cate le Bon.

Cate le Bon

Though released in 2009, I came across her debut album Me Oh My just last year and immediately became obsessed with it.  Truthfully, I wasn't really listening to anything else like it at the time. Her unique brand of psych-tinged folk pop seemed out of place in my last.fm queue, but nevertheless it made me reminiscent of the time I went to France and in the course of exploring Brittany spent an afternoon traipsing through the labyrinthian grounds of a sprawling Chateau where footpaths overgrown with roses overlooked a lush river valley and springtime seemed eternal.

Cate's newest offering, Cyrk, delves even further into the psychedelic wanderings on Me Oh My; none of the songs would have been out of place on my Electric Lemonade Acid Test comps, or in a circus sideshow where both audience and performers are on hallucinogens. Cate's vocals are theatrical and haunting without being over-the-top. She seems at once mournful, chiding, dreamy, furious, and yearning. And again I am transported, wishing I could time warp to the streets of 1960's London, where I'd run around in a brightly colored velvet frock, platform boots, and a floppy hat. This is a desire that I probably haven't had since I watched Velvet Goldmine for the first time at the tender age of sixteen.

When I heard the Welsh singer would be making her way to Mercury Lounge to kick off her stateside tour in support of the album, I was filled with an overwhelming sense that if I went to the show, these flights of fancy would somehow be laid bare, that I could better understand their point of origin and in so doing clear my head of such visions. The voice would spring from between my ears to stage and become reality instead of myth. Either that, or rainbows would spring from Cate's fingertips and she'd give birth to a full-grown unicorn before our eyes.  

Pigeons

The show began insanely early. I arrived not long after seven and had already missed half of the set from openers Pigeons. Pigeons are another band that is difficult to... well, pigeon-hole. The first recordings I'd heard of the band featured songs sung in French, but apparently they hail from the Bronx. Lead singer Wednesday Knudsen (which sounds like a name only Jonathan Lethem would think up) is extremely tall and too skinny even to be a model, and her shoulders curl slightly over her guitar like a Madonna over Baby Jesus in a Mannerist painting. I caught Pigeons as a two piece at a CMJ showcase last October, but here the band played with their full live lineup. For fans of psych folk, I would definitely recommend catching one of their laid-back but beautiful sets. I would also recommend doing some kind of drugs beforehand.  

Cate took the stage just before eight o'clock, shrouded in a floral smock, her perfect auburn bob silhouetted by blue lights, bangs bluntly cut just above her smokey eyes. Her clarion voice was in top form as she tore through the set, and I was extremely impressed by the way she handled her guitar, at turns culling somber tones from the instrument and then wailing high notes at the next. She belted out the lyrics in measured breaths, swaying with each beat but focused intensely on playing rather than posturing. She implored the audience to come to the show in Hoboken the following night – with emphasis on the second syllable of Hoboken rather than the first, yet was gently teasing in explaining how to properly pronounce the title of the record – SURK, not KIRK. Her backing band was as instrumentally versatile as she, rotating keys and guitars comfortably through renditions of “Put To Work”, “Falcon Eyes”, “Me Oh My”, “Julia”, “Cyrk”, “Fold The Cloth” and others. Cate and Co. closed the set with both parts of “Ploughing Out” before she dramatically smashed her guitar into her bassist's, snarling the strings and leading astonished fans to believe there would be no encore, though it was not yet nine o'clock. However, after a brief absence, Cate returned for one more tune, this time at the keyboard. A video of the encore can be seen below.

NewVillager takes Manhattan

I know next to nothing about NewVillager, and I am not the only one.

I came across the video for “Lighthouse” while curating a design blog and was blown away by the elaborate costumes and energetic posturing. When their self-titled debut album was released, it was hard not to fall in love with the infectious melodies and pop-inspired grooves. But who were NewVillager? They seemed to have anywhere between two and twenty members, depending on whether one decides to count dancers, living sculptures, hand-clappers, and videographers, all of whom seem to have been beamed down from another dimension beyond our own plane.

drummer Collin Palmer bestowing fan with mask

NewVillager are most certainly building a mythology around their work, which is equal parts musical and visual. A gallery installation in Tribeca last month and a video for second single “Rich Doors” have introduced a conceptual game that apparently has to be experienced to be understood, and even then all bets are off. Last week I decided to see for myself what all the fuss was about, knowing that even if the set-up was less elaborate than what I'd seen on YouTube, I'd still hear some great tunes.

Ross Simonini

I was dismayed upon arrival to find a line down the block. My friend and I went to a bar around the corner for drinks, but even after we'd downed some cheap PBR and returned to Mercury Lounge there was still a line. The crowd was baffling. Had Mercury Lounge run a Groupon? That's the only explanation I had as to how the folks in front of us had wound up here.  I'm not trying to be judgmental, but none of them seemed the type that would be into the possibility of this becoming some insane piece of performance art.  Slowly but surely, we filtered through the door and the narrow bar to the show space inside. We didn't have to wait long before three musicians took the stage, which was adorned with bizarre props.

Ben Bromley makes faces, and music

The set was perfectly executed and seemed extremely well-rehearsed. Be-scarfed singer Ben Bromley's facial expressions were particularly animated as he manned the keyboard, prompting my friend to aptly dub him “the white Bobby McFerrin”. Ross Simonini chimed in with additional vocals and apparently prefers to play guitar barefoot. Drummer Collin Palmer did double-duty as hype man, stepping out from behind his kit a few times to get the crowd pumped.  Halfway through the set a dancer completely obscured by a hood with with a grin that literally went from ear to ear came from out of nowhere, wriggling off the stage and through the audience, handing out masks. One particularly ornate mask was bestowed upon a lucky observer who was invited to dance (albeit poorly) on stage. She was later joined by two friends, one of whom exuberantly proclaimed “It's my birthday!” but I'm almost positive this was not part of the NewVillager myth.

Not actually a member of NewVillager

Meanwhile, on stage right, another performer had situated himself or herself or itself inside a giant inflatable statue. A grey-and-white striped column pranced through the crowd as well. The culmination of these activities was, of course, “Rich Doors”, performed as an encore though encores are always a slightly perplexing endeavor at Mercury Lounge, where there's no place for the band to hide. When I say they played “Rich Doors” as an encore, I also mean that they played Fleetwood Mac's “Dreams”. You can watch a video I shot of the revelry below.

I went to Mercury Lounge expecting indie rock's answer to Gwar, and in all honesty I was more weirded out by the audience than the performance. What I got was definitely more random than the almost Jodorowsky-esque set-up promised in the “Lighthouse” video, but was still a little charming. Even with all the fanfare it was the songs themselves that stood out most. Well-constructed in the first place, their live translation was sublime. With regards to the mythology behind NewVillager, all I can say is that it would be nice if these artists let their fans in on the secret.