The New Guard ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Sometimes, we do more than just go to concerts. Sometimes, we go to concerts that also happen to be one of the most delicious meals we’ve ever eaten, a thought provoking art installment and a dinner table full of delightful conversation. Such was the case last Wednesday, when we attended our first (but certainly not our last) New Guard event. Curated by Whitney Ricketts, Sarah Jurado and Joey Veltkamp The New Guard is a celebration of the delightful and up-and-coming. It features one local artist, one local musician and one local chef at a rotating venue for an intimate, once-in-a-lifetime evening with some of Seattle’s most fascinating foodies, artists and musicians as guests.

Our introduction to The New Guard was hosted at a South End wine distribution warehouse and featured a proper East Coast clambake cooked by Sitka & Spruce’s Cormac Mahoney, art by Kat Larson and a solo set by Justin Ripley (of Salmon Thrasher). It was a meal and an evening we’ll dream of for months to come, a fleeting fête that we wished could last forever.

Cormac Mahoney of Sitka & Spruce ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

New Guard Clambake ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Justin Ripley and The New Guard ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

See more mouth-watering photos from The New Guard on our Flickr

One of our favorite parts of Capitol Hill Block Party is the Vera Project’s dunk tank. Last year we stumbled on Murder City Devil’s frontman Spencer Moody getting dunked for the kids. This year, we walked past just as Sound on the Sound favorites The Head and The Heart were dunking one of their own.

We’ll let the photo series show you what happened.

Kenny Gets Ready to Throw as Jon, Josiah and Charity Cheer Him On:

The Throw

Success! The Splash

Zasche Emerges from the Dunk Tank

All photos by Abbey Simmons

Carissa’s Wierd ::: photo by Josh Lovseth

Mat Brooke: “This is so much different than playing house parties and basements.”
Jen Ghetto: “You can’t even believe it.”

Some bands, no matter how gifted the musicians are or how beautiful the songs they write, are best suited for basements, small clubs and the intimacy of headphones. And having seen the rapturous whisper that is Carissa’s Wierd barely able to compete with a chatty crowd of a thousand at The Showbox last Friday, I’m positive when I say that they are such a band.

Last Friday, the lauded and long-missed Seattle band took the stage for the first time in seven years in front of the largest crowd they had ever played at a nearly sold-out Showbox. Seeing them take the stage with looks of disbelief and trepidation, trying to fathom that the crowd was there for them and their repeated heartfelt thank yous, was by my estimation, an unmissable moment in Seattle music history. Unfortunately the din of conversation that challenged the delicacy of Carissa’s Wierd and a back bar full of people hell bent on proving Seattle will talk through anything, didn’t seem to agree with the momentousness of the occasion or the reverence it deserved.

It wasn’t all conversation that was challenging the band on stage, all over the Showbox there were people shrieking with unabashed ecstasy and making sounds usually not heard outside of the bedroom. And throughout the Showbox, which I traversed trying to find the best spot to actually hear Jen, Mat and Sera harmonize, games of “Who’s the Biggest Cariss’a Wierd Fan Here?” were being played. It’s a game jam band fans are most familiar with, the one where people yell out “Oh I know it!” or “Oh my God its _____” at the first note they recognize. They then proceed to sing along at the top of their lungs to further prove their devotion to and archival knowledge of the band. 30-somethings around me giggled about how seeing Aveo and Carissa’s Wierd made them feel like they were in college again and everywhere I looked there were wide grins and lots of happily tear stained cheeks.

Those sounds, as well as Mat’s emphatic thank yous to the crowd (including the telling “thank you so much, this is the biggest show we’ve ever played”), didn’t distract from the show as much as the conversation; rather they punctuated and reminded that what was happening at the moment was special, a once-in-a-lifetime event. The songs that got the biggest reactions from the crowd were the few songs like “Blanket Stare” and “Alphabet on the Manhole” that didn’t make Hardly Art’s retrospective, where knowing and singing along was a mark of true, original fandom.

Had I been such an original fan, and this wasn’t the lone time I had the chance to breathe with the band’s sighing songs, perhaps the chattiness wouldn’t have bothered me so much. But I wasn’t. I just discovered Carissa’s Wierd this year, courtesy of Kevin Cole’s afternoon show on KEXP and have spent the majority of this year listening to their albums on repeat and kicking myself for having never seen them. When Hardly Art announced they would be reissuing the band’s records, including a “Best Of” and that Carissa’s Wierd would be performing once again, I actually yelped with joy and sent an ALL CAPS thank you to my friendly Hardly Art press person. I didn’t care that I’d paid a lot of money for copies of the original releases on Amazon, I just relished in the fact that I would be able to hear these songs that have lived in my heart and headphones all year, live and against all odds. The world was a wonderful, giving, redeeming place and from the moment the show was announced, I counted down the days with giddy anticipation.

And, as long as you could hear them and appreciate the perfectly mixed sound that night, the band delivered upon the heart-aching promise of their albums. The emotion of songs like “You Should Be Hated Here” and “So You Wanna Be a Superhero” hit you square in the chin, which was inevitably quivering. Jen Ghetto sings in a sighing whisper that you find yourself craning towards even when listening on your headphones, thin on forcefulness, but thick with longing and sad-knowing. Mat Brooke’s voice haunts like the ghosts of loss that many of Carissa’s Wierd’s songs center around. And at times, the strains of Sarah Standard’s violin felt as if they were being played upon my spine. There were moments of magic, where with your eyes closed, the songs felt like long forgotten lullabies being sung just for you. That is to say, exactly how they sound on their albums and how I imagine they sounded in those basements and house parties a decade ago.

Even with the largest crowd of their life, Carissa’s Wierd stayed true to their original incarnation, as that band that thrived in the intimacy of small shows, sticking to the softest and slower part of their canon and refusing to sing louder or faster to match the size of the show. And just as Carissa’s Wierd wouldn’t change for their one-night reunion, it would seem Seattle hadn’t changed for Carissa’s Wierd. The faithful fans were there early and they stood rapt, hanging on every word, hands raised towards the stage in blissful praise. Meanwhile, the disinterested or less knowledgeable arrived late, chatted away mindlessly and once again completely missed the beauty and subtle brilliance in their presence. I for one am grateful that the Carrisa’s Wierd reunion show only lasted an hour and a half, but that the band and their songs get to live forever in my headphones, just where they sound the best.

Carissa’s Wierd ::: photo by Josh Lovseth

See the full set-list and more photos from the show, after the jump

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Sallie Ford at Noise for the Needy ::: photo by Josh Lovseth

While we don’t have the total amount earned for Teen Feed just yet, last week’s Noise for the Needy was by all other measures, a huge success. Sound on the Sound was out for all five nights of the festival and every venue we dropped in at was buzzing with happy donors and volunteers and of course, with great bands on stage.

There will be more detailed reviews coming for a couple of the Noise for the Needy shows we attended, but we wanted to share a few of our favorite photos from the festivities now.

Lastly, if you haven’t seen Virgin Islands yet you should remedy that ASAP. The local punk outfit was my favorite discovery of the fest and I’m ashamed I haven’t been in the front row for every single one of their shows. I’ll be remedying that from here on out. There’s been a distinct lack of brazen rock’n'roll in my life lately and Virgin Islands delivered in furious fashion. You can catch the band at The Sunset next weekend on June 26th as part of the Sunset 10 Year Anniversary Celebration.

Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside at Noise for the Needy ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Goldfinch at Noise for the Needy ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Friday Mile at Noise for the Needy ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Magic Mirrors at Noise for the Needy ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Hallways at Noise for the Needy::: photo by Josh Lovseth

Virgin Islands at Noise for the Needy::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Karl Blau at Noise for the Needy::: photo by Josh Lovseth

Flickr: Check out all our photos from Noise for the Needy

Born Ruffians ::: photo by Brittney Bush Bollay

Seattleites of all ages took a delightful Canadian double punch Monday night when Ontario’s Born Ruffians and Young Rival rolled into the Vera Project.

Taking the stage first was Young Rival, whose surf-tinged garage rock is a timeless treat. Live, Young Rival comes across as simultaneously more surfy and more garage-y than on record. They seem to be a band whose truest essence is revealed only on stage — which is always preferable to the reverse.

The crowd seemed slightly lukewarm to Young Rival at first, but began to change their mind when confronted with frontman Aron D’Alesio’s prodigious guitar skills. Every song saw him ripping through fast, complicated surf riffs with impressive dexterity, and the audience was appreciative. In return, the band seemed to steadily warm up to the crowd. Though they remained miles away from flamboyancy, the boys visibly loosened up over the course of their set.

By the time Young Rival launched into psychedelic toe-tapper “The Ocean,” the audience was more than happy to answer the band’s call to clap along. And once they started clapping, they couldn’t be stopped, carrying on for the full length of the song. “That’s the longest we’ve had anybody keep clapping,” the band marveled. After the hands, whole bodies began to succumb to the beat, and by the set’s closing notes, enthusiastic dancers had begun to appear in the crowd.

If the kids grew to like Young Rival, they LOVED Born Ruffians. From first word to last, they sang along with gusto, chiming in especially on old songs, but also on tracks from the brand-new record, only out a week.

The Ruffians’ set was an hour-long journey through sixty years of musical sounds. With his curly pompadour, cuffed jeans, and a guitar roughly the size of his body, singer Luke LaLonde looks like a rock and roll hero of the 1950s. Much of the music also carries that era’s tone, with plenty of stomping, clapping, and gospel-esque call-and-response structures.

Other times the band has a very modern sound, with many tracks (particularly new single “What To Say”) calling to mind current superstars Vampire Weekend. At worst, these songs sound timely; at best, Born Ruffians build on the contemporary aesthetic and give us glimpses of the future. Most interesting are their uses of challenging rhythms and other jazz-based elements, which bring a delightful intellectualism to the music without the need for heavy-handed lyrics.

To the Vera crowd, though, brains were less important than bodies: these kids just wanted to dance. The energy in the room built and built, finally exploding during the encore with the fantastic, swingy “I Need a Life.” “The sun is shining but we stay inside / Oh but we go out at night.” Bouncing, clapping, and singing along, the crowds at Vera made the most of their night out.

Young Rival ::: photo by Brittney Bush Bollay

Lots more great photos after the jump
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Girls ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

It wasn’t the early bird who got the worm when it came to Sasquatch. No, the Sasquatch early birds got 8-hour traffic back-ups, while people like me, who made our way east on Sunday morning, got to The Gorge in record time.  It was one of the many counter-intuitive surprises that marked Sunday at Sasquatch: the buzz bands lived up to their hype, intimate electronic songs worked beautifully in the wide-open space and the Tallest Man on Earth turned out to be just about my height.

It came as no surprise to me that The Local Natives, who ended up being the first act on the Bigfoot Stage,  played to a packed and appreciative crowd. Just over a year ago I saw the band play to 20 people or so, but even then it was easy to predict that the band would be playing to a Sasquatch sized-crowd soon. Packing every grassy nook available and well-versed in the Los Angeles’ bands songs, a crowd of thousands joined me in an early afternoon sing-along that had me beaming.

I expected the crowd to clear out for the mellower stylings of Swedish folk troubadour The Tallest Man on Earth, but the crowd crushed forward against the barrier as they strained and struggled to be closer to Kristian Matsson. If you want to know what the kids are surprisingly going crazy for these days, it is for this petite Swede. Matsson does Dylan the same way Dylan did Guthrie — with reverent fetishism. Clad in tight blue jeans and with a cigarette smoking cowboy emblazoned on his leather guitar strap, Matsson enraptured the crowd doing Dylan better than Dylan does these days and much more succinctly. The fervor of his crowd and the way he filled the festival stage with just his lyrics and his guitar, was certainly one of Sasquatch’s biggest surprises. His cover of Paul Simon’s “Graceland” was one of my favorite musical moments of the entire weekend. 

The surprises and solid covers continued as the day went along: a new Long Winters line-up showed off a full-grilled John Roderick and they ended their set with the Grateful Dead’s “Touch of Grey.”  Sub Pop’s Avi Buffalo offered an elastic, complex and catchy set which belied the bands youth and showed great promise. They’re definitely a band to watch as they inch towards the legal drinking age. After the rock roller-coaster Avi Buffalo treated us to, Freelance Whales seemed like nothing more than pleasant afternoon filler. Admittedly, despite their sweet stage banter, the band couldn’t keep my interest for longer than the first few songs.

Happily, fellow blog buzz band The xx fared better than the Freelance Whales when it came to impressing and living up to the hype.  As out of place the black-clad British trio looked in the wide open and neu-hippie crowd of Sasquatch, the band’s dreamy and throbbing sounds translated much better than expected (or feared). Despite the almost infinite expanse of the Gorge, The xx’s songs retained the intimacy that made them so pleasing in the first place. Despite the crowd of thousands, it still felt as if the band was whispering the song in your ear. For the most part, the band was all business and no banter on stage, but their aloofness came across as endearing and shy, though on stage they clearly know what they are doing. As I have always been with this band, I was ready to be disappointed by The xx, to pass them off as a blog blip, unworthy of the hype, but the band yet again pleasantly surprised me.

My surprise took a much less pleasant turn when it came to the attendance for San Francisco’s Girls. Their set was the most disappointingly under-attended of Sasquatch, as seemingly 95% of the crowd enjoyed LCD Soundsystem at sunset on the mainstage. Those of us who stayed behind, a lucky handful of hundreds, enjoyed the coming dusk backed by the sad and sunny eccentricities of Girls’ cascading retro hooks. With a twitchy intensity Christopher Owens, clad in high-waisted pleated khakis and a Dwight Yokam tour shirt, took little notice of the crowd (whatever size it was) and performed the hell out of some of 2009’s best songs including “Lust for Life,” “Laura” and the plodding “Hellhole Ratrace.” The band may have been better suited for the smaller stage or an earlier time slot, when they wouldn’t have been challenged by the dance-thems of LCD Soundsystem, but those of us who stayed behind for Girls didn’t regret the decision.

The fastidious Dirty Projectors fared better in terms of attendance and as you’ve hopefully already read, their golden hour set made me a believer in this Brooklyn band. Unfortunately, the night peaked with the Dirty Projectors for me as the final big name acts I caught that night: Pavement and Public Enemy were plagued by technical issues beyond their control. While the false starts and sudden stops added to the sloppy charm of what one would expect from a Pavement show, the technical issues completely derailed the momentum of Public Enemy’s set. For a call and response rap to work, the audience has to be able to hear you calling … after about six moments of sudden silence during the Public Enemy set and having already screamed “Flava Flaaaave” at the top of my lungs, I called it a night on what turned out to be a surprising Sunday at Sasquatch.

The xx ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

The Tallest Man on Earth ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

The Gorge at Dusk ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

More photos after the jump…

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Dirty Projectors ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

I’ve never said it here on the blog, for fear you’d revoke my music writer credentials, but until this weekend I just didn’t get the Dirty Projectors. After being inundated with cries of “the best thing EVER” (since Animal Collective) by every music blog from Brooklyn to Portland, there was no way the band was going to meet the impossible sonic expectations that had been placed on them, and despite repeated listens to Bitte Orca and David Byrne’s stamp of approval, they never did. Until Sasquatch, that is.

Part of my long held concern with Dirty Projectors was the seeming impossibility of recreating the layered intricacies of their sound in a live setting without five minute stops before every song to get the loops just right, but the band did so with aplomb — even in the open air of Sasquatch and with no Memory Man’s to be found. The intricacies of the band’s sound comes not from technology, but near super-human musicianship amidst six people who play as a single finely tuned machine. Playing during dusk, with the light of the Gorge’s golden hour illuminating them, the golden-tongued praise for Dirty Projectors made perfect sense.

They’re still not the best thing EVER, but as far as Sasquatch was concerned, they were pretty damn close.

Just take it from the conversation I overheard while waiting for the band to begin from two teenagers in the front row:

“Dude, we have the best spot EVER.”
“Yeah, unless lightning strikes.”
“If lightning strikes, we’re toast.”
“If lightning strikes [during Dirty Projectors] at least I’ll die happy.”
“Unless it happens right now.”

And they were right. It would be a shame for lightning or over-hyping to keep you  from appreciating the Dirty Projectors.

Dirty Projectors ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Dirty Projectors ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Post Harbor ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Last night’s four band bill at Neumos was a glimpse into how the Northwest rock scene is being remade circa 2010. Celebrating the release of Post Harbor’s new album They Can’t Hurt You if You Don’t Believe in Them (out on Burning Building Recordings February 23rd) was of course Post Harbor themselves in the headlining spot, and in support were label-mates Daniel G. Harmann & the Trouble Starts and the Oregon Donor, and The Soft Hills, a stacked local “indie+post rock” bill if there ever was one. Conclusion: More bands need to incorporate bow’s into their guitar playing.

And the Oregon Donor! I’ll admit that their record from last year didn’t catch my attention, but last night they did just that. I tweeted:

The oregon donor is rad. Like muse remaking ‘the bends.’ I love ‘the bends.’

Hard to go wrong with that review I’d say.

The Oregon Donor ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

The Oregon Donor ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

The Soft Hills ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Daniel G. Harmann & The Trouble Starts ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Post Harbor ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Post Harbor ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Flickr: Post Harbor, Daniel G. Harmann & The Trouble Starts, The Soft Hills, and The Oregon Donor at Neumos

D. Black ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Last Saturday KEXP hosted an eclectic line-up of local bands at the Sunset for their monthly Audioasis benefit. In a completely guitar-less night, three great genre crossing artists took the stage: the confessional piano pop of People Eating People, the dangerous rock swagger of Blood Red Dancers, and the conscious hip hop of D. Black.  As bizarre as the bill might have seemed to some, I was delighted. Such genre-crossing bills expose audience members  to artists they might not otherwise hear of and only serve to highlight the diverse riches of the local music scene. These are a few of my favorite photos from the evening.

People Eating People ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

People Eating People ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Blood Red Dancers ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Blood Red Dancers ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

D. Black and Spaceman ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

See More Photos from KEXP’s Audioasis on our Flickr

Do Make Say Think ::: Photo courtesy of Keith Rutowski

Our contest winner Keith offered to ply his journalistic wares at the Do Make Say Think show he won tickets for. I must say he captured some great images. Thanks Keith!

Do Make Say Think ::: Photo courtesy of Keith Rutowski

Do Make Say Think ::: Photo courtesy of Keith Rutowski

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