Highlights
Two Lone Swordsmen
Thurs., Aug. 5
If blip-hop is too facile for you and laptop-pop too fussy, may I suggest Two Lone Swordsmen. Producer/spinners/players Andrew Weatherall and Keith Tenniswood are not new to the house/techno-dub world, having made interesting records by Beth Orton and Spiritualized. What they do best is make their own mechanical funk-a harsh liquid noise populated by spongy bass lines and cretinous, twitchingly contagious grooves. For references, see the dynamic spin-cycle that is their Peppered with Spastic Magic compilation; something majestic in the morass of multi-artist mixes.
Yet the duo's new CD From the Double Gone Chapel is a darkly funny, grand and stirring electro post-punk album that taps in to the Manchester-psychedelic mind-set of 24 Hour Party People without a hint of nostalgia. Muck-thick bubbles of bass and slapped-back drum machines with processed voices trickle by in various states of death and dying. Somewhere within this mix, there are shale-and-iron guitars that'd bring Ian Curtis back from the grave.
APT, 419 W. 13th St. (betw. Washington St. & 9th Ave.), 212-414-4245, 10, $10.
A.D. Amorosi
The Real Heroes
Fri., Aug. 6
The Real Heroes are, in fact, true martyrs to rock 'n' roll. Just consider how two members-frontman Benjamin Hotchkiss and guitar/synth player Kyle Crusham-are speaking from their jobs at Austin, TX's Tequila Mockingbird studios, home to plenty of sad alt-country acts. ("No comment," says Kyle.) Greetings from Russia is an impressive sophomore record from a band that's clearly dreaming of Los Angeles gutter rock. To their credit, The Real Heroes' East Coast fixations lean more toward the Long Island environs of Blue Oyster Cult. That's why they won't sound nearly so tired while playing Pete's Candy Store this Friday.
This is really a bad time to record a strong rock album with traces of glam, punk and new wave.
Ben: You mean because there's a lot of that sort of thing going around? Yeah, there is, but it's kind of hard to turn back from what we've been doing all this time. We didn't know there would be any kind of an explosion.
Kyle: The Austin scene is still geared toward singer/songwriter types. There's a bit of a mafia going on. That's where the money is here, too. I imagine once we head out, we'll start running into more people like ourselves. In Austin, we're still kind of an oddity.
I've never understood why a band would want to be part of a scene, anyway.
Kyle: There is no scene where we are. I know about the rock 'n' roll hipster scene in New York, but I have no interest in all that. All of our favorite bands were never part of any scene. They were making the trends. We'd hate to end up labeled as being part of that scene where it's all about making sure that your songs have enough shouts of "Yeah!"
The only authentic pose for a band like the Real Heroes is resignation.
Ben: I used to be one of those smart, intellectual types a long time ago. It's easy to get lost in that world and overthink everything. I had to take a break to even remember why I liked music. Now we're definitely operating in that vein. You just have to hope for the best.
Pete's Candy Store, 709 Lorimer St. (betw. Frost & Richardson Sts.), Williamsburg, 718-302-3770, 9, free.
J.R. TAYLOR
Ivan Lins
Fri., Aug. 6
In 1985, Brazilian piano man Ivan Lins was at a crossroads in his career. Although he had been an established singer/songwriter since the early 70s (having given the late Elis Regina the hit "Madalena"), his albums (deemed too sophisticated for the taste of the general public) were not selling well enough. As a consequence his label was dropping him from their roster. As many of his predecessors in the bossa nova movement (Astrud Gilberto, Carlos Lyra) had done before, he successfully took his career to greener pastures abroad.
He soon built a solid reputation in the world-jazz scene and today is one of Brazil's most widely recorded songwriters, having written for Sarah Vaughan, George Benson (with whom he performed at the first Rock and Rio Festival) and the Manhattan Transfer.
Back home in Brazil, he resumed and reestablished his national career by writing and performing romantic ballads while playing more jazz-inspired tunes when touring abroad. In 1990 he began his own record label (Velas) alongside songwriting partner Vitor Martins.The label has been responsible for the emergence of many new names, including Chico César and Belô Veloso (Caetano's niece) and includes in its roster the Jobim-Morelembaum Quartet.
One of his latest projects was an album dedicated to the memory of Rio de Janeiro composer Noel Rosa, who died at age 26 in 1937 after a short but prolific career. At his Aug. 6 performance at Palacio Europa in Newark (home to a growing Luso-Brazilian community), you should expect more of his Brazilian side to emerge with songs such as "Novo Tempo," "Madalena" and "Dinorah."
Palacio Europa, 280 New York Ave. (betw. Van Buren St. & Pulaski St.), Newark, 973-589-8999, 9, $40.
Ernest Barteldes
Dub Trio & Alloy
Fri., Aug 6
Whether you've spent evenings in the back of the Reggae Lounge, purchased your lion's share of Augustus Pablo reissues or watched Lee "Scratch" Perry and Mad Professor in "action" at the Wetlands, dub is probably still a dread mystery to you. It can be an unending black hole of squiggly spaciousness and skull-rattling reverb mixes thicker than genuine Jamaican patois.
The Dub Trio are here to make it easier for you; they're a more palpable, living-instrument experience akin to what, say, the Roots do with hiphop. Like a Sly & Robbie of the tri-state area, Joe Tomino and Stu Brooks approximate the organic, producers-only realm of sound-system soul-the heart of dub's brusquer, hungrier moments. These deep-space vibes are made twitchy and ragga by trio guitarist DP Holmes across a series of original tunes that will wind up on their ROIR-label debut, Exploring the Dangers of the Dub Trio. That their quivering sound comes from recording "live" dub in real time-direct to tape with few overdubs-guarantees an honesty that's also sonically horrific.
The show's headliner is eerie avant-bop trumpeter Dave Douglas-himself a bit of a mysterioso, as Monk would call it, with his own radical song craft that blares forth in solo or group speak. He teams with free-flugelhornist Baikida Carroll and post-bop trumpeter Roy Campbell for a triple-threaten trumpet score, Alloy. Now that silver-toned brass jester Lester Bowie is gone, only Douglas can hope to take a shadow of his place. And only Campbell and Carroll can stop him.
Tonic, 107 Norfolk St. (betw. Delancey & Rivington Sts.), 212-358-7501, 8 & 10, $15.
A.D. Amorosi
Tres Chicas
Sat., Aug. 7
"We were all gung ho about trying to shop this project," says Caitlin Cary of Tres Chicas, "but then life intervened." There was a lot of life to intervene during the three years between the start of Tres Chicas and their debut release of Sweetwater. Cary's been busy with an acclaimed solo career that should've buried her past as a member of Whiskeytown. Lynn Blakey's always putting out records as a member of the fine Glory Fountain. Tonya Lamm is a new mother who's still constantly touring as a member of Hazeldine. They could've thrown together another generic trad-country album, but Sweetwater is actually a compelling collection of original folk-rock tunes (and a few reliable covers). This league of frontwomen tops the bill at Joe's Pub on Saturday, Aug. 7, as Cary was surprised to learn while talking from her North Carolina home.
Tres Chicas must be doing pretty well, since you're already headlining at Joe's Pub.
Are you sure about that? I don't know if we're headlining. I don't even know if we're making a living, exactly. We're spending other people's money pretty freely. For a while, I tried to trick myself into thinking I'd arrived and didn't need a job. Then I couldn't pay the light bill, so now I'm working again-but it's a good flexible job that lets me come and go. It's working out. The Tres Chicas thing is really just fun. It's a lot easier than Whiskeytown. The whole Whiskeytown thing was always about making a record and getting on the road. It's still a challenge to share in the burden of making all this happen, and relying on other people, but I'm finding it to be very exciting.
Was it difficult to just not slip into becoming another glossy hillbilly act?
Yes, and I love you for saying that. We tried really hard to not fall back on things like?well, everything being in three-part harmonies. It's not always as beautiful as it could be. We don't all have pretty voices. Maybe that's a liability sometimes, but we're always thinking about how to keep things from rising to the next level of saccharine. Lynn's songs are pretty much rock songs, anyway. They're pretty, but they're edgy, too. I'm happy if you can hear our effort there. I won't say that we try not to be country. I never think about that. I can't distinguish country songs from rock songs anymore.
Do you ever feel self-conscious being in a supergroup?
We're all fine with being in a supergroup-but around here, we're better known as the people who go to the grocery store in our pajamas.
Joe's Pub, 425 Lafayette St. (betw. E. 4th St. & Astor Pl.), 212-539-8778, 9:30, $15.
J.R. TAYLOR
Xiu Xiu
Saturday, aug 7
Despite lyrics like "cremate me when you come on my lips," Xiu Xiu don't go down easy. Disturbing and sexually provocative, this is one of our favorite bands whose name we can't quite pronounce. Ultra-emotive former vocalist Jamie Stewart channels Morrissey at his gayest and Ian Curtis at his alivest while the rest of the band moans and plinks away at various non-guitar-shaped instruments. Stewart's unflinching compositions sounds like a personal risk. With On! Air! Library! And This Sojng is a Mess.
Knitting Factory 74 Leonard St. (betw. B'way & Church St.), 212-219-3006, time tk, price tk., $10.
Ilya Malinksy
2004 Vans Warped Tour
Sat., Aug. 7
Back In The mid-90s, package tours ruled the summer landscape. Building on the success of the early Lollapaloozas, these tours went from town to town with their demographic-specific line-ups, offering the sensitive college girls a day at the Lilith Fair or the hippie a chance to jam at H.O.R.D.E. One by one, most perished. Even Morrissey and Sonic Youth couldn't save Lollapalooza, as plans for its 2004 jaunt were scrapped earlier this summer.
From the class of 1995, the Warped Tour prevailed. Combining the appeal of extreme sports with the then-new commercial appeal of "punk," the tour has been packing in disaffected young people, skaters, high school hipsters and poseurs from the country's most affluent suburbs for 10 years. This week, it returns to Randall's Island, its longtime New York City home.
What keeps the kids flocking back to the Warped Tour, while the other summer sideshows have run their course? Even at the outset, adaptability has been the event's strong point. Originally slated as "The Bomb," things shifted away from the explosive tip when Timothy McVeigh's own bomb went off in Oklahoma City on the day of the tour's announcement. The promoters quickly paired up with Warp magazine, a now-defunct Transworld rag mixing skateboarding, surfing and snowboarding with music, and threw up a half-pipe in between the stages.
That first year's line-up was heavily influenced by the New York City punk scene and featured acts like CIV, Sick of It All, Orange 9mm and Quicksand. This soon gave way to the brief third-wave ska revival and bands like the Mighty, Mighty Bosstones and Hepcat, plus also-rans like the Mad Caddies and Buck-O-Nine. Those early summers offered an eclectic show with old-school acts like Fishbone, Social Distortion and the Vandals rubbing shoulders with younger bands that came off as little more than second-, third- or fourth-generation photocopies. Eventually, the tour settled into a pattern, with a handful of established bands, including Rancid and NOFX, anchoring the line-up year after year, supported by a number of flavor-of-the-month and up-and-coming support acts.
For the average mall punk, the Warped Tour is still a steal. The mohawked youngster gets a ton of bands on several stages-eight at the New York show-a bargain for the $32 ticket price. If hardcore taught the promoters anything, it's that quantity is most important. The Warped Tour adheres to the VFW hall rules and keeps the kids happy-and coming back.
But, then again, this is the business of popular music, and the Warped Tour's product placement is little more than the logical extension of Sam Philip's studio in Memphis and Malcolm McLaren's dream of a great rock 'n' roll swindle. Over the past 10 years, they've found one answer to the age-old pop question: How do you separate the kids from their money?
Randall's Island, Sunken Meadow (Under Triborough Bridge), 212-307-7171, 12 p.m., $32.75.
Aaron Lovell
Sonny Rollins
Tues., Aug 10
Among the many pictures of jazz music legends, few are as compelling as the image of Sonny Rollins practicing alone on the Williamsburg Bridge walkway late at night during one of several periods of self-imposed hiatus (1959 to 1961), the lonely sound of his saxophone carrying over the East River. In Ken Burns' documentary, Jazz, Wynton Marsalis describes Rollins as "the type of musician who's always questioning himself." As jazz analyst Gary Giddins observes, also in Burns' film, the same intense self-doubt and restless searching that led Rollins to the bridge has been known to rear its head during performances. Even by jazz standards, Rollins is quintessentially an in-the-moment player, which means audiences are faced with the challenge of staying by his side as he pursues a kind of total union between fluidity and sophistication. Though never formally trained, he and his siblings were heavily encouraged to study music by their parents. Hailed for his powers of improvisation-and for the musical intellect he can marshall on the spot, Rollins, in his disdain and mistrust for recording, was already something of an anachronism by the 1950s. Though he has amassed a large body of recorded work that spans several key periods in jazz, including the bebop and free-jazz revolutions, the concert stage is where it's at for Rollins. Unsurprisingly, he recently told Jazz Weekly that he finds it "excruciating" to listen to his own albums, but on the other hand just simply loves to play-and is perfectly content doing so in his own den. In fact, he claims to get physically sick if he goes even two days without practicing. One of the last remaining household-name elder statesmen of jazz, Rollins seldom performs live. Catch him while you can-he may always decide to stop appearing in public again and stay home for a few years.
Lincoln Center Out of Doors, Damrosch Park Bandshell, 62nd St. (Amsterdam Ave.), 212-875-5000, 8, free.
Saby Reyes-Kulkarni
Lost Innocence Found
Through Aug. 27
What is innocence in art-an ironic facade or pure imagination? That question, posed by curators John Nickle and Rick Davidman, became the inspiration for their show "Innocence Found," now at DFN Gallery through Aug. 27.
Depicting families and childhood, oceans and animals, naked youth and God, the artwork presented is uneven, but seen together the focused exhibition works well, allowing us to consider innocence in its various forms from goodness to duplicity to kitsch.
Like good postmodernists, we start our investigation of the art by searching for perverse subtext. We see corporations dominate a toddler's gender identity as she plays beneath a fashion poster; landscapes hint at mayhem; and the photo of a beloved dog becomes a symbol of irrational violence.
Some works are clearly dark and satirical-for example, the autobiographical paintings of Eric White, which consider the effects of divorce on children. On a small circular canvas White has painted a dreamy Hollywood kiss. White asked six-year-old Casey Gallagher to finish the work, so the painting is covered in a frustrated red scribble of the boy's broken family.
Julie Heffernan's Self Portrait as Gorgeous Tumor features an ethereal nude holding a bounty of fruit, which falls away into the mouths of colorful birds. Behind this Renaissance-like scene of beauty, the darkened background bubbles with cancerous visions of monsters and torment.
Mark Ryden's Santa Worm slithers across the frame with happy, adorable elves riding on its back, but should we accept joy so easily, or should we ask if the grinning Santa worm has found his dinner?
The curators chose a variety of styles including Outsider art, fiber art, photography, drawings and paintings. Several artists created new works to specifically express their views on innocence. Though the gallery's layout is typical-brightly lit with white walls and a partition down the middle-the decision to mix styles in thematic clusters creates a narrative flow through the room.
At the end of the first wall we come to Jock Sturges' silver gelatin prints of two lovely nude teenage girls, posing on a beach. By this point we have already passed two other pretty young female nudes. So a new question arises-who draws the line between innocent art and pornography?
Exploiting kitsch, Jana Duda's Good Deer is a photo of a faux faun, a scratched-up plastic garden ornament with Bambi eyes. We know this object is ridiculous, nothing but tacky schlock, yet deep inside a muffled voice coos, "Cute."
Across the room we find the amusing work of several well-known Outsider artists. These pieces produce another question-is innocence a state of mind?
The show finishes with a large, vertically hung painting by Bo Bartlett called Dancer. Dressed in a long white ballet skirt, the dancer, with her proud Manet-like face, stands firmly on a smooth gray rock, shrouded in fog, alone on the stony edge of an unseen precipice: Innocence lost in a hostile world.
DFN Gallery, 176 Franklin St. (betw. Greenwich & Hudson Sts.), 212-334-3400, 11-7, free.
Julia Morton
Tim Burton drawings
Through november
"I think best when I'm drawing," says film director Tim Burton. Using his art to communicate, Burton's simple yet expressive sketches become the visual and conceptual foundation of his multimillion-dollar films. On display through November at the American Museum of the Moving Image are 27 framed images chosen by Burton from his personal collection. The pictures take us into the creative process of filmmaking and give us a feel for the director's inner life.
The museum is currently showing Behind the Screen, an amazing carnival of collected soundtracks, movie clips, interactive displays, special effects, costumes, props, even famous telegrams from irate directors to irate producers.
And there in the middle of all this filmmaking stuff are Burton's inspirational pen and watercolor drawings, the first step in his moviemaking process. Taken from 12 films, they show his wide-eyed characters conveying their inner turmoil, the creation of a film's foreboding atmosphere from a few scratchy lines or the suggestion of a comic plot, as in the painting of a Martian getting a snapshot of his friends in front of the burning Taj Mahal.
Born in a pre-film age, Burton might have gone on to become an allegorical painter of epic battles between good and evil. Instead he was born in 1958 in the cookie-cutter suburbs of Burbank, CA, not far from Disney Studios.
Growing up, Burton's dark, antisocial nature found a refuge from the area's sporty lifestyle in tv cartoons, gothic horror and science fiction. Influenced by earlier artists and authors Edward Gorey and Charles Adams, and time spent working for Disney Studios, Burton's ghoulish blend of pixie dust and tinsel gives his characters their tormented relevance.
Though a small show, the trip to Queens is worth the effort. In addition to the Burton artwork, the museum is also hosting the interactive online exhibition The Living Room Candidate: Presidential Campaign Commercials 1952-2004. While fully presented on the museum's website (movingimage.us), the show can also be explored at the museum. Looking back on former presidential battles with all their forgotten faces and past hysterics adds some balance to this year's heated competition.
American Museum of the Moving Image, 35th Ave. (36th St.), Astoria, 718-784-4520, call for times, $10, $7.50 st.
Julia Morton