Nick Broomfield’s documentary-style film weaves a 360-degree story around the Haditha killings of November 2005 in Iraq. He’s put together a great cast of non-actors, mostly featuring former US Marines and Iraqi refugees in Jordan, where the movie was shot on location. Not referring to the explicit language, I found the conversations to be blunt and lacking subtleties, but you’ll find plenty of nuances in the complicated folds of the story itself. Besides, it seems Broomfield was going for rawness (there was a lot of improvisation involved), and through the events surrounding one incident, the jab is at a bigger truth. Bigger truths just happen to make perfect stories, but I suppose you’ve got to compress the lines if you’re going to get anywhere near?
Former US Marine ElliotRuiz gives an incredible performance. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay for the QA with him and Broomfield (can you believe it)! Film Forum is showing the movie through May 20.
It all sounded the same during an early Fiery Furnaces show at Southpaw, but I can’t say it wasn’t intended to, and not that any of it wasn’t good. Two sets of keyboards laid the foundation for the jams, and Eleanor Friedberger sang coolly with radiant eyes, whether the topic was a lost dog, husbands, or sons of bitches. Stories after stories her voice never faltered, while the cut of her face to the jerks of her movement all matched the aesthetic of the music. She cannot not be the face of the sound, an incarnation of a summer at least four decades old. Her brother Matthew warmed the stage with grinding keys, goofy smiles, forgotten lyrics and an ocassional cheer for Kyle Hollingsworth from String Cheese Incident who took on the second set of keys. While he and the drummer took a beer break backstage, Eleanor played drums while Mathew sang with missing lyrics.
Last night was my second time watching Múm since they formed a new line-up. At St. Paul the Apostle Church last year (pictures at the end of this post) I found the band’s Wordless performance to be lacking. They’d said they’d written up a special set list to complement the very special venue, but what appeared to be a toning-down of their whimsical, percussive sound, especially the drumming, seemed like the wrong choice to me. I thought the opening trio Torngat (more on them later) outdid Múm in making a truly awesome use of the venue’s awesome presence. But last night at Brooklyn Masonic Temple, with no special setlist, I felt the same void in the new Múm. The performance was very good, and at times straight-up great, but with the new members, or I should say with the absence of Kria Brekken, Múm is a different band.
The thing is, standing in front of a perfectly smooth swathe of solid paint can leave you feeling completely nourished, and being in the midst of craftsmanship can really get you excited. So of course Murkami’s show at Brooklyn Museum was inspiring. It was brilliant. But I’m not a big fan of Murakami’s style. I appreciate his full submission to the power of colors and the drama of simple shapes, his unwavering tribute to aesthetics, and I appreciate more than anything his commitment to perfection, but I’m not in any way blown away by his vision. From a friend of a friend who worked for him (many of the pieces she worked on were up), I know that an outrageous amount of work from various people have gone into the show, which is only evident.
How tempting is it to hear that Regina Spektor is playing Soundfix for free? Very tempting. But I’ve decided not to go. I really want to see the cherries blossom, and I really want to have brunch with friends at Tom’s Diner, I’m not super-stoked about Murakami, but sure I’ll check him out. But I don’t want to wait in the line for hours to see an intimate show. Because then it’s really not intimate anymore. For the experience to be intimate, you need to stroll in with a few friends to buy a record and suddenly realize that a girl is playing on the piano inside, and you decide, let’s pull up a chair guys, let’s get a drink and check this woman out. So for now I’ll just accept Regina’s now a superstar and I’ll try to pay a superstar price to get front row tickets when she plays the next time. How about that.
Before Man Man took stage, Yeasayer played. I’d been pretty frustrated with Coyote’s opening set, I hadn’t enjoyed it at all, so when Yeasayer finally started, it was no less than hills awash with sun beams. I love how this band is devoid of any nonsense, how the four work so well together despite appearing to have very different personalities (especially their sense of fashion). It was a completely cohesive sound, and there was no trace of disconnect. The singing is filled with great details, both on stage and off. And I’m not sure if the effect was heightened by not enjoying Coyote’s songwriting, but what shines in Yeasayer for me is the determination to do nothing less than push the form we call music to uncertain boundaries, where beautiful things eventually happen. Sun beams
I can’t imagine Man Man not kicking ass, so needless to say, the show kicked ass. More importantly: before they went on stage and while they set up, Beach Boys’ “Kokomo” played on repeat for about a hundred times, but it was followed by Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”, which outdid “Kokomo” by roughly a million more repeats. Funniest was the irresistibility of both tunes: there wasn’t a single person setting up the stage that wasn’t singing along, and of course there were sing-along’s amongst the audience as well. But more convincing were the groans every time the song started fresh after a brief silence. The crowd was wild during Man Man’s set. I’m not sure how I feel about the venue.
If I hadn’t already got Man Man tickets for tomorrow, I’d be certain to go see Christine Fellows at Music Hall of Williamsburg. I’m hoping the city will lure the Canadian at another time. The thickly-layered songs from her 2007’s Nevertheless (especially the opening “Let Us Have Done With The Umbrella Of Our Contagion”) and the rich classical/theatrical roots in her music spell, “We make for a great live show, some see us”.
I didn’t get around to the album when it first came out, or else my November would’ve been that much warmer. Joanna Newsom comparisons are inevitable, but Christine definitely leans towards the more traditional. The two voices roam the same woods, but in the end they leave different impressions. After all, one is an elf and the other simply can’t pass for one. A difference of cosmos.
There is a fresh pop collective on the horizon, from Portland no less, for warmer days that await us. The preview track from Au’s summer record, Verbs, is so tinged with the colors of sand, grass, the sun, parades, and crisp rolling waves, that it can only mean one thing: Behold! Summer Marches Towards Us. The group has announced some tour dates, but these don’t include the east coast yet. However, the album comes out June 26th, so I’m sure we’ll be getting our share of the feast: Verbs was recorded over three days with Luke Wyland pulling in nearly thirty collaborators from the area. Listen to “RR vs. D” — it’s an absolute blast.
There’s bound to be a lot of talk about Vancouver’s No Kids this year. At Mercury Lounge I was certain the stage seemed too modest for the trio, and what the room was witnessing was sure to pale as “humble beginnings” in no time. They played with two sets of keyboards (one Nord Electro, two Yamahas) and a drum set. For such an onslaught of jangly key tones, and by jangly I mean nightmarish purple infused with rainbow swirls, the band packs quite a load of funk. And despite the innocence the big glass rims convey on singer Nick Krgovich’s face, he packs his own brand of tude. I found his dance moves to be a secret door to the music: every flick of his feet and every little angle of twist and lean his upper body made (he didn’t miss a beat) was a complete impression of the music’s imprints. In his moves you could visualize the negative space of the sounds they were creating; yes, if he were a block, you’d slather him with ink and press him against paper to decode the odd songs. It’s hard to tell if they’re being humorous about the R&B/soul/hip-hop flavor or if they’re simply digging it.
