Midnight Poutine Podcast Guestspot

Montreal has officially entered into syrupy heat, as full summer descends on us like a hot, moist blanket. The city (famously) uses this opportunity to expose its skin, and in recognition of that, a brief note to say that I'm part of this week's Midnight Poutine podcast, where we discuss local shows, upcoming events, and the wearing of shorts and flip flops.

This is the 43rd edition of the Midnight Poutine podcast, and I'm pleased to be a part of its charming dorkdom, ably moderated by Jeremy Morris and John MacFarlane. You can have a listen here, and the podcast will give you a chance to hear everything from bluegrass and folkrock to experimental noise, synthpop and alt-riff-rock, all from bands playing in Montreal in the coming days. Remember to leave a comment if you listen in.

Enjoy the weirds! Don't forget the socks under the sandals. So cool, even today.

Tarwater - Spider Smile

Tarwater
Spider Smile
Morr, 2007

Years ago, during a brief "bulking up" period, I regularly went to the gym to work out. I would trundle down to the YMCA and set up on a cross-training machine, which is essentially a Stairmaster-type of device that also works your arms (hence, "cross-training"). I'd put on the discman, punch in my weight, height and age, and try to get my heart-rate up to 180 bpm for 20-30 minutes. Getting the heart-rate up was never a problem, not dying in the process sometimes was.

Even though I was in a major city and living in a scenester part of town, I was surprised that I was the only indierock type of guy in the gym. All around me were brawny, waxy guys in spindly tank tops on weight benches, and packs of women with nine-pack abs looking at each other with pure hate across the constantly occupied running machines. I am certain I was the only person in the gym listening to the type of music that could really only strengthen your chin-scratching muscles.

Case in point, my favourite "workout" album at the time was Tarwater's Silur. Following the now-familiar Tarwater formula of strangely translated English vocals, sing-spoken over fractured digital percussion and half-realized guitar lines, the album was one of the few that could engage me enough to distract me from the burning in my lungs, legs, and tingling in most of my left side. While cross-training my flab away I wanted to announce aloud with the singer:

"I like,
To yell,
When it's snowing."

Now back with their tenth release (2nd full-length album on the formidable Morr Music label), Tarwater present Spider Smile - probably their strongest release since 2000's Animals, Suns & Atoms. Given how popular the electronic-indierock hybrid has become, either in bands such as Postal Service and Rogue Wave, or in European post-rock such as the Notwist, Lali Puna or Ms John Soda, I am always surprised by how little attention Tarwater receive. The German duo is more known for one member's involvement in To Roccoco Rot than their own output, particularly here in North America, despite Tarwater's consistency and unique voice.

Spider Smile is a specifically post-9/11 album, capturing some of the anxiety and resignation that society now feels, and setting these themes against hooky but damaged synth lines. The songs are propelled forward by snapping cuts and clicks, and everything is held together by sparse arrangements, an austere aesthetic and the usually forgotten sounds from guitar and bass (for instance, the streaking sound between notes, knocking on an instrument's body, or electrical hum all sometimes feature more prominently than traditionally played notes). Spider Smile is infectious and another engaging release from one of Europe's most consistent and consistently overlooked post-rock bands.

Spider Smile is available via the Morr Music website.

Leafcutter John - The Forest and the Sea

Leafcutter John
The Forest and the Sea
Staubgold, 2007

Regular readers of my music writing will know of my love for the micro-genre, where already obscure music differentiates itself from its roots by an emphasis on singular elements or unique combinations of sound. I always think of mid-90s electronic music as the zenith of this, where albums and songs themselves were parsed out as "genres" unto themselves. Dizzying and ridiculous, this technique has the advantage of consistently allowing artists to reinvent themselves and avoid being typecast as creators of a certain type of music.

To me, a micro-genre that deserves greater attention than it receives is "laptop folk". Essentially predicated on the idea that "folk music" is that beardy stuff from the 60s and 70s that you don't tell your friends you listen to, laptop folk takes the familiar, organic elements of folk, and squeezes them through the electronic recording and processing equipment that has changed modern recording. This type of music captures the zeitgeist in an interesting way, as so much of our lives are mediated by technology (even 24bit, digitally remastered folk classics). Why music such as Leafcutter John is considered laptop folk and not simply the modern version of folk music I have no idea. Maybe its all those militant folkies pulling the world's strings and hiding their weed from us. This machine kills fascists, indeed. Bastards!

Taking cues from Christian Fennesz's thick fuzz-scapes and influenced by glitchy electronic pioneers such as Pole and arguably Mouse on Mars, Leafcutter John have sculpted a very moving and sophisticated album. The Forest and the Sea hybrids delicate fingerstyle guitar and multipart vocal harmonies with unpredictable electronic experimentation, using cut-ups of traditional folk instruments (strings, accordians, what sounds like dulcimers) and found sound to create an all-enveloping universe. It usually feels odd to discuss emotional attachment to something so influenced by digital processing, but the technology in Leafcutter John is used so orginally, and remains so intrinsic to the atmosphere they create, that it is impossible to think of the laptop as anything except a traditional folk instrument in their hands. Blended with the acoustic instruments in trad folk, these electronic phrases and twists offer a Brechtian push-pull effect, and offer a texture that gives the music a staying power.

As an added incentive to allow yourself to be completely immersed in Leafcutter John's music, The Forest and the Sea is a concept album, loosely telling the story of a couple that falls asleep in the deepening forest night, only to awake on a clifftop surrounded by the sea. The album pulls you along with them, in a somnambulant haze. I cannot recommend this album enough, especially to those who like their experimental music to still occasionally veer back toward melody and structure, or to those who need more grit in the gears to really engage with acoustic instruments and folk music. Leafcutter John's The Forest and the Sea is available via something called iTunes.

Reactable - Possibly the Best Musical Instrument Ever

Like many musicians, when I finally made my peace with technology and its relationship to the music I was trying to make (initially with coal-fired 4-tracks, then 2-bit hardware and finally HAL-esque computers and tabletop devices), I became interested in exactly how far the technology could go. Many musicians and scholars have written about the liberating potential of music technology, and in many cases I agree with their positions. However, I've also seen enough "laptop shows" to recognize that sometimes the machine can trump the man, and become a screen that disguises a lack of originality or, at its worst, a lack of musicianship.

So you can understand my excitement and trepidation at seeing Reactable - an interactive tabletop that uses light and physical devices to generate synthesis and sound. Watch this video to see the action - it seems to be the kind of instrument that you could play by simply moving devices around until you found something pleasing (or not!), but unlike other music technology it seems that the more understanding you have with regard to synthesis and sound generation, the more interesting the work could be.

In an ever-accelerating world where the human-and-technology inter-relationship becomes more fluid, I actually welcome intruments such as the Reactable, as it is the first device I have seen that offers a truly intuitive hardware/software interface, and breaks the mold of what an instrument should look like.

On the down-side, you pretty much have to have your own museum or be a billionaire (or both) to own one.