The Killers at Paramount Studios, New Years Eve 2006

Yeah, they went from Las Vegas’ answer to Duran Duran on the verge of making their Rio to earnest Americana-chasing banditos stranded somewhere out on Highway 9 in search of the last exit to Born to Run (with Earl J. Hickey on drums, no less). Still, Sam’s Town is no slouch, especially when soaring songs such as “When You Were Young” sound so sweet cranked up to 11 cruising down PCH like the last two seasons of The OC never happened. It’s only fitting that they headline this New Year’s Eve blowout on the “New York Street” lot of Paramount Studios, outfitted as “Times Square West,” complete with a midnight ball drop and the perpetually comely Carmen Electra serving as your hostess with the most. They don’t call it Hollywood for nothing. Cheers.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

Bright Light Fever at Safari Sam’s, December 26

Meet the latest contenders in the scruffy but pop-positive rock sweepstakes, NoCal’s Bright Light Fever. Their brief but bombastic tracks go straight to the heart of the matter, piling sticky melodies on top of hard-charging drums, reminiscent of what the little girls have been swooning over lately (Panic at the Barbershop, for one), minus that whole wuss factor. Their debut, The Evening Owl (Stolen Transmission), finds our young charges doing their best not to get lumped in with such pabulum by digging deeper into their bag of musical tricks, exemplified by the Radiohead-y guitars of “Good Day, Good Day” and the gleefully maudlin piano-powered ballad “Crowded Street in May.” (“A Deeper Blue” just rocks.) Singer Evan Ferro can over-emote with the best of them, so watch out. They’re a good Warped Tour away from being bigger than Fall Out Boy.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

Quetzal at the Echo, December 23

This fiercely Chicano outfit from East Los Angeles have been honing their decidedly nontraditional mix of urgent cultural pride and political activism for more than a decade, but, four albums later, it still sounds brand new. The band’s latest, Die Cowboy Die (Quetzal Music), finds them in a transitional mode, from lineup changes (new vocalist-keyboardist Quincy McCrary brings a soulful edge) to vibrant vocalist Martha Gonzalez’s meditation on impending motherhood, “Breast Pump Waltz.” What hasn’t changed is their fiery political voice, be it the perpetual debate over the U.S./Mexican border on “Migra” or an unflinching shot at America’s colonization power trip on the simple but effective title track, which wears a strong Morrissey influence in both Gonzalez’s vocal inflection and the sardonic lyricism: “The killing of millions of people/Now you must die/Genocide missions no longer justified.” Ain’t that the truth.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

Ozomatli at House of Blues Sunset, December 22

It’s always a celebration when this quintessentially Angeleno peace mob hits the stage with its multiculti mélange of everything intended to make you dance, from south of the border beats to the defiant stomp of inner-city streets. They never stop searching out more flavors for their uplifting polyglot, most recently getting with Middle Eastern melodies and reggaeton rhythms (and a take on the theme to Showtime’s pot-tastic series Weeds). It’s been a couple of years since they’ve produced a fresh full-length (although they did appease fans with last year’s Live at the Fillmore), but that’s about to change in the new year when they drop Don’t Mess With the Dragon in March, born from an installation at L.A.’s Tropico de Nopal gallery. Expect plenty of pre-release previews.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

West Indian Girl at the Troubadour, December 15

These high-flying L.A. love children are ready to ease you into the approaching season of stress with a soothing swirl of velveteen melodies and the power of positive thinking. West Indian Girl (WIG to their friends) is notoriously named after a particularly potent strain of acid in the early ’60s, and it shows. Evoking memories from both Summers of Love (’67 and ’88), the band marries Woodstock-era uplift with the anything-goes ethos of the underground rave scene to create electronic-tinged psychedelia somewhere between classic Pink Floyd and Primal Scream when they were still taking Ecstasy. It all comes together on their signature single, the dreamy, slow-motion anthem “What Are You Afraid Of?” (Other than tripping too hard on the visuals, not much, friend.) The War Tapes and Test Your Reflex open the show.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

L.A. MUSIC ’06: IMA ROBOT

After years of madly pogo-partying all over the local circuit, L.A. hipster faves Ima Robot have connected with the rest of the world big time on their second L.P. (and first for Virgin Records), the archly titled Monument to the Masses. Led by the anthemic Devo-goes-emo thrash of single “Creeps Me Out,” the band’s Technicolor splatter of skittish synths and Casio box-beats has even landed them an opening slot for by-the-numbers “modern” rockers All-American Rejects. All the easier for them to poach a new legion of slavishly devoted fans, I suppose. MTV and your kid sister’s bedroom wall can’t be far behind.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

L.A. MUSIC ’06: PIGEON JOHN

Does anybody remember laughter? Exhibit A: Pigeon John. He makes hip-hop that’s fun (and funny) but full of substance, a gentle juxtaposition of tragedy and comedy that would make Wes Anderson proud. His 2006 album Pigeon John and the Summertime Pool Party was just that, a sunny amalgam of easy beats and everyman witticisms that cross-pollinated the Pixies with thoughtful raps without missing a step. He beat Jay-Z to the hip-hop–for-adults punch (“Growin’ Old”), proving that rocking the mike can be grown folks’ business too. More Beck than Lloyd Banks, Pigeon John is the Fresh Prince of L.A. Dec. 29 at the El Rey, with Blackalicious, Tre and Phatlip.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

L.A. MUSIC ’06: BUSDRIVER

Hip-hop doesn’t get much more indie than this. Project Blowed alum Busdriver is as likely to kick it with Pitchfork approved acts like Islands and Coco Rosie as he is alongside fellow nonfigurative word manipulators such as Subtitle and Abstract Rude. But really it’s a jazz thing, as Busdriver jump-cuts across genres (and thesauri) with a quickness, making sure that even the kids way in the back understand that this is not your daddy’s boom-bap (in case the inside-out productions from folks like Thavius Beck and Daedelus didn’t make it clear enough). Oh, and naming his new album Roadkillovercoat. Party time!

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

L.A. MUSIC ’06: THE GREY KID

Just what them cool kids have been waiting for: the hipster Justin Timberlake you don’t have to feel guilty for loving. Like a prettier Mickey Avalon run through Girl Talk’s post-everything sonic blender, he’s already paid homage to Timberlake with his heavily YouTubed parody “Paxilback,” but this ain’t just fun and games. Kid can get all earnest with that falsetto, as evidenced on the Interpol-gone-pop strum of “Lonely Love,” found on his surprisingly solid debut 5, 6, 7, 8. Check his hip-hop heart on the free mixtape The Pilgrimage, which finds him greying up the Clipse and Jay-Z. Stardom’s inevitable. Jan. 13 at the Echo, with Girl Talk.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

L.A. MUSIC ’06: THE BLOOD ARM

Yeah, Franz Ferdinand loves ’em. But why wouldn’t they? The Blood Arm’s no frills lotsa thrills brand of catchy classic rawk shoots right between the eyes with sticky melodies and dramatic delivery. Live, they take audience participation to a whole other level, with singer Nathaniel Fregoso spending as much time climbing on the crowd’s heads as he does flinging himself spastically across the stage. Strokes comparisons are close but no cigar, evidenced by TBA’s recently released Lie Lover Lie (City Rockers), a grimy collection of inner-city blues that digs much deeper than that to reveal big, bleeding hearts that are pure Los Angeles.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

Peaches @ Avalon, December 13-14

Peaches is a lot like George Clinton reimagined as a sexually charged extreme feminist from planet Amazon: Free your vagina, and your mind will follow. She espouses that liberation of all kinds can be found between the legs, exemplified in orgiastic anthems like “Fuck the Pain Away” set to her signature electro-metal maelstrom. She’s downright civic-minded on her latest CD, Impeach My Bush, using sex as a political weapon (“I’d rather fuck who I want/than kill who I am told to”), bolstered by even brasher beats and new buds like Joan Jett and Josh Homme. Live, she’s backed by her new band, the Herms (as in Peaches & Herms — cute, right?), which boasts Le Tigre’s JD Samson and former Hole tub-thumper Samantha Maloney. Electro-shocked U.K. indie act Whitey and local glam-slammed tranny Jeffree Starr set it off.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

Spank Rock, Debonair Samir @ Safari Sam's, December 12

It’s hip-hop on 45, rapid-fire raps over aggressively futuristic beats and pieces as equally informed by videogame soundtracks as they are by U.K. garage. Spank Rock are on some other shit — all jittery, coked-up dance tracks superglued to casually misogynistic lyrics that scream “Look at me!” while swinging a private-school tie overhead. It’s a Philly by way of Baltimore party thing, finding common ground between Hollertronix’s dance-or-die ethos, Too Short and your nephew’s PSP. These junior-mint pimps are showing indie bed-heads how to live, talking trash, clocking cash and slapping ho’s like nobody’s business. Don’t think, just shake that ass. Do your drugs early enough to arrive in time to get an education in Baltimore club music from opener Debonair Samir. Hollywood’s DJ C_Town will make sure the hipsters are in check. Somebody say hi to Cory Kennedy for me.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 12/06)

Amy Millan at the Troubadour, December 7

Already familiar to the indie nation for her presence in Broken Social Scene and Stars, Amy Millan takes a solo turn on Honey From the Tombs (Arts & Crafts), which meanders into far folksier, alt-country territory. Songs like “Baby I” and “Losin’ You” are stark, plaintive confessionals that should come complete with a shot and a beer. Lyrical images of dirt roads after dark, front-porch swings and hard-luck lovers wondering where it all went wrong come alive in her music, with echoes of Mojave Three and the mellower side of Mazzy Star. Oddly enough, one of the album’s standouts is the gorgeously lush “Skinny Boy,” a jangle-heavy shoegazing rock jam that turns up the noise and finds hope (however fleeting) in “lips I could spend a day with.” Sweet emotion indeed.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

Imogen Heap at the Wiltern, December 1

Frou Frou’s eponymous 2002 album was just another sadly overlooked CD clogging the used bins at Amoeba until Zach Braff’s ex-girlfriend suggested their song “Let Go” for his movie Garden State. The tune’s ornate blend of baroque and beats perfectly encapsulated the film’s precious approach to growing up, an apt centerpiece for the soundtrack’s ad-hoc Big Chill for the iPod-generation sentiment. Singer Imogen Heap’s flair for the dramatic carries over to her solo work, an electrified juxtaposition of emotive introspection and digital manipulation that’s decidedly cinematic. (Her version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” played as Marissa died in Ryan’s arms on The O.C., the series that helped catapult her song “Hide & Seek.”) She shares the stage here with beat-box phenomenon Kid Beyond and acoustic troubadour Levi Weaver.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

Talib Kweli @ House of Blues Sunset, Sunday November 26

When Jay-Z big-upped Brooklyn’s perennial indie-rap hero Talib Kweli on “Moment of Clarity” (“If skills sold/truth be told/I’d probably be/lyrically/Talib Kweli”), it was a watershed moment. The king of bling and braggadocio acknowledging the people’s champion with such a bold proclamation was like a sledgehammer to the Berlin Wall between the underground and commercial sides of the hip-hop nation. Kweli’s been bashing away at it ever since. He’s adopted Jigga’s business acumen, establishing the Blacksmith Music label, snatching up fire-spitting rapstress Jean Grae. In the downtime until his upcoming album, Ear Drum, drops, Kweli’s MySpace page is burning with bomb tracks like “Funny Money,” alongside Madlib from their anticipated Liberation collaboration, and “Country Cousins,” which finds T.K. trading verses with Southern dons Bun B and Pimp C. Yo, Nas: Hip-hop is so not dead. Black Moon’s Buckshot opens.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

Kevin Federline at House of Blues Sunset/Jay-Z on Jimmy Kimmel, November 22

I imagine Britney buzzed on Red Bull and licking Cheetos dust off her fingers, furiously flipping through an Us Weekly story about Whitney leaving Bobby. Suddenly, she has a moment of clarity. “Hey!” Britney exclaims to her ever-expanding brood and the day’s random manny. “Replace the crack with Starbucks, and it’s me and Kevin in 15 years. That’s not cool, y’all!” It’s hard not to appreciate Kevin Federline’s relentless opportunism just a little. From Britney to CSI to sucker-punching wrestler John Cena on WWE Raw, Holmes is repping Fresno pretty hard. Then there’s the music. From the faux Brazilian favela funk of “Popozao” to the equally facetious gangster rap of the wryly titled “America’s Most Hated,” this is about as ridiculous as it gets. Which, of course, is the point.

In contrast, on this very same evening Hovito (AKA Jay-Z) along with his new friends at Budweiser and The Jimmy Kimmel Show, shut down Hollywood Blvd to honor the release of Hov's Kingdom Come album. Regardless where you fall on the hater/fan spectrum, you can't deny there is no one working even half as hard as Jay right now. I mean damn. Is it me, or is he really everywhere at once right now? Today's edition of 106 & Jay on BET was live as hell. Just Blaze, Skateboard P, UGK, Timbo and Mephis Bleek riding shotgun while Jay-Z rolled out ten hits from his past 10 years in the game. On point and hopefully on Youtube by now. Me, I'm not mad at Kingdom Come at all. Disappointed maybe, but not mad...

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06. Most of it, anyway)

The Rapture, The Presets at Henry Fonda Theater, November 20

There’s always been more to Brooklyn-based band the Rapture than they’ve been given credit for. Because they’ve been overshadowed by their affiliation with indie dancehall crashers the DFA and deeply mired in the disco-punk shuffle of 2005, it would’ve been easy to chalk them up as a one-underground-hit wonder, thanks to the 2002 hipster anthem “House of Jealous Lovers,” which still sounds as furiously vital today as it did then. Their underappreciated debut, Echoes, found the band successfully experimenting with earnest ballads, moody techno and dramatic post-punk discordance. Now they’re back with Pieces of the People We Love, streamlining their sound into taut blasts of brainy, pop-tastic dance-rock for highbrow booty-shakers. With saxophones! The ’80s never sounded so good. Australian electro-twins the Presets get confrontationally digital like an irreverent, lo-fi version of the Knife.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

Clipse, Luckyiam.PSC at House of Blues Sunset, November 13

Last year, rapper Young Jeezy scared parents and teachers alike with the ubiquitous urban logo of a scowling Frosty, a wry reference to dealing “snow” that showed up on scads of suburban teen t-shirts. But he’s got nothing on Virginia Beach snowmen the Clipse. Brothers Pusha T and Malice have rocked their way to the upper echelons of hip-hop society with true tales of inner-city street economics, their appropriately nasal flow married to the bouncy, futuristic productions of the Neptunes. They were discovered by the Ice Cream Man himself, Pharrell Williams. Protracted label drama has kept their relentlessly bootlegged sophomore LP, Hell Hath No Fury, from official release, but it’s already being touted as an instant rap classic. Tonight they share the stage with Living Legend Luckyiam.PSC representing the home team.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

Lupe Fiasco at the Key Club, November 10

In a real-life hip-hop remake of Revenge of the Nerds, Chicago mic manipulator Lupe Fiasco brings back an organic appreciation of all things geek-chic: comic books, obscure Japanese clothing labels, sneakers (Reebok sells one of his designs) and, of course, skateboarding, with his swimming-pool-smooth single “Kick, Push” the nicest beat you’ll hear on televised skate competitions. Mentored by none other than rap’s Jedi master, Jay-Z, Fiasco showcases his levelheaded perspective, Islamic faith and admiration of Nas (F&L is modeled after Nas’ It Was Written CD) on his debut, Food & Liquor. Boasting tracks from the likes of Kanye West, the Neptunes and his own 1st & 15th crew, Fiasco’s album righteously bridges the gap between indie-friendly and radio-ready. The jury’s still out on the live show, so tonight’s the night.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

Lee “Scratch” Perry at House of Blues Sunset, November 7

Like a smoked-out James Brown from way-outer space, reggae icon Lee “Scratch” Perry is one of modern music’s most profound and influential characters to whom countless artists are massively indebted. From his own genre-creating productions of the ’60s and ’70s that defined the dub aesthetic to work with everyone from Bob Marley to the Clash, this genuine genius/madman’s legendary status is long established. On his latest CD, Panic in Babylon (Narnack), the 70-year-old Perry has wandered back from the wilderness to produce his strongest full-length in years, despite the nonsensical narrations (“Have a Perry salad/for this is a Perry ballad”). It’s bolstered by remixes from disciples like DJ Spooky and TV on the Radio’s David Sitek, who remixes the title track with breathtaking aplomb. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

Love is All at The Echo, November 3

It’s time to get happy in indie land when this smiley-faced band of Swedes hits the spot. Gaining furious momentum across the blogosphere, these poppy post-punks charm with a delightfully unselfconscious joy, barreling through exuberant tunes like a teenager behind the wheel of his first car. Rife with bleating saxophones and melancholy melodies somewhere around early Psychedelic Furs and classic Romeo Void, their music can also rev it up with the best of them, like a sweeter version of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Love is All’s aptly titled album Nine Times That Same Song (What’s Your Rupture?) riffs all over the highs and lows of l-o-v-e both simply and effectively. Singer Josephine Olausson’s high-pitched yelp (Björk O?) overflows with childlike glee against scrappy guitars and highly danceable beats. Pogo party tonight!

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 11/06)

The Roots at Avalon, October 30, 31

Please, enough of this notion that the Roots are the best live band in hip-hop. Given the outrageous chops Philly’s finest have honed over 10-plus years running the road like rap’s Grateful Dead, they can take on pretty much any act out there, genre be damned. Black Thought, Questlove and the crew are deep in the zone right now, evidenced by recent red-hot performances and the sonically adventurous new album, Game Theory, their first on the Jay-Z–helmed Def Jam label. The defiantly paranoid “Livin’ in a New World” strolls campus with an indie-rock vibe like Pavement gone boom-bap, while “Long Time” touches upon TV on the Radio territory, for starters. The Roots are turning L.A. Halloween shows into something of a tradition, and one well worth celebrating.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 10/06)

The Secret Machines at Avalon, Monday, October 23

If pops won’t shut up about Roger Waters’ recent shows at the Bowl, you’d do well to introduce him to these new kids on the epic-rock block. This pulverizing power trio’s massive monuments of sound blend the druggy psychedelia of Pink Floyd with the stage-strutting bombast of Led Zeppelin (drummer Josh Garza assaults his kit like he’s possessed by the spirit of John Bonham). Layered with the hypnotic drone of Krautrock and touches of moody shoe-gazer blues, it’s an intoxicating mix that’s not just for stoners anymore. Expounding on their cinematic debut, Now Here Is Nowhere, with the wide-open spaces of the dreamier follow-up, Ten Silver Drops, the Secret Machines keep it classic by jamming in the round for an especially intense sonic experience. Prog on, people. And at Union Station, Tues. (Scott T. Sterling)

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 10/06)

Lily Allen, Mark Ronson & Aaron LaCrate @ The Troubadour, 10/14

How much super-fun can you pack into one night? Headliner Lily Allen is an effortlessly charming U.K. pop explosion who sounds as if she nicked all the right records (like the Specials and Saint Etienne) from her older sisters’ collection. Allen’s sunny but smart blend of estrogen-charged ska-hop will have Gwen Stefani green with envy, and don’t even get me started on Fergie. Li’l Lily is this year’s model for real, and if America doesn’t rightfully swoon, it’s our loss. To keep the party on jam, she’s got two banging DJs in tow, New York socialite/production powerhouse Mark Ronson (stop hating!) and Baltimore club evangelist Aaron LaCrate dropping his patented gutter tracks. This one’s so sold out, I’m shamelessly begging in print — can a brother get a ticket? Dang!

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 10/06)

Adult. at The Troubadour, Oct. 6

Detroit death-not-disco duo Adult. are all about extremes. They’ve embraced Heraclitus’ adage that change is the only constant, evolving from the sleek, post-electro pulse of their early work to the abrasive chainsaw massacres that mark their more recent releases, especially 2005’s Gimme Trouble (Thrill Jockey). Consisting of husband-wife team Adam Lee Miller and Nicola Kuperus, Adult. often alienate even their fans with their chronic evolution, which seems to suit the band just fine. Kuperus’ vocals are akin to Siouxsie Sioux strangling Lene Lovich into submission over Miller’s discordant noise bursts and beats. Their live show is an exercise in confrontation and possibly the best representation of what Detroit’s really like this side of getting jumped in the Cass Corridor. Motown freak-rock expats Hard Place and L.A. synth experimentalists the Bubonic Plague set it off.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 10/06)

Del Tha Funkee Homosapien, Mike Realm, Motion Man, Bukue One, A-Plus at Knitting Factory 9/29/06

Self-respecting b-boys/girls should need little prompting to shuffle their backpacks into the Knit for this veritable cornucopia of hip-hop heroics. Tonight’s headliner is the original indie rapper, Del Tha Funkee Homosapien of the eternal Hieroglyphics crew. Dropping underground classics ever since his seminal 1991 debut, I Wish My Brother George Was Here, Del belies his deceptively laid-back style with stiletto-sharp wit and future-shocked forays into sci-fi fantasia (see Deltron 3030, Gorillaz). DJ phenomenon Mike Realm scratches everything he can get his hands on into an exhaustive multimedia pop-culture explosion sure to leave skid marks on your mind. Kool Keith affiliate Motion Man will keep it freaky, Bukue One brings his skater style from the Bay area, and A-Plus righteously reps the Souls of Mischief. Now where my heads at?

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 09/06)

SUPERSYSTEM, ZOMBI @ THE ECHO, 9/29/06

Are we still talking dance-punk in 2006? You bet your sweet ass we are, and ex-Dischord punks gone dedicated dance commandos Supersystem are doing their damndest to give it a good name (or at least tack on a “post” prefix). Existing somewhere between the politicized polemics of Radio 4 and the new-wave pulse of the Faint (maybe it’s all those pseudo-British accents), Supersystem set themselves apart by having the audacity to incorporate world-music influences, particularly in Rafael Cohen’s fluid guitar lines. Their new album, A Million Microphones (Touch and Go), takes things even further into the global stratosphere (harps are involved), all the while keeping bed-heads bobbing. Pittsburgh’s Zombi recalls the glory days of analog electronics with a swirling sea of soothing synthesizers. Jean Michel Jarre rules!

(Originally published in LA Weekly, 9/06)

TV ON THE RADIO: LOVE IN THE TIME OF XANAX

“I’m surprised that I’m not still working at Kinko’s, especially making our weirdo music,” deadpans TV on the Radio guitarist-producer David Sitek in his Brooklyn studio. He’s working on a remix for an upcoming Beck single at the moment, but in just a few days, TV on the Radio will be leaving to tour behind their major-label debut, Return to Cookie Mountain. “Artists like Brian Eno and John Coltrane were on major labels. It’s not that case anymore, so I definitely think that we are the wild card. It’s kind of Dada,” he ponders, referencing the anti-art cultural movement that emerged in protest of World War I. “I can see someone saying, ‘Well, if TV on the Radio can get on Interscope, maybe I can fly.’ ”

No shit, considering how unlikely it is for a band as iconoclastic as TV on the Radio to be sharing a label with the Pussycat Dolls and Black Eyed Peas. It’s been a surreal ride for the group from the moment they first dazzled the indie underground with their ’03 Young Liars EP (Touch & Go). Mirroring the shaky mood of a post-9/11 New York City, the five-song collection of post-indie art rock (including an a cappella take on the Pixies’ “Mr. Grieves” — equal parts gospel reverence and barbershop quartet) sounded like nothing but itself. While it pulsed with dense swaths of orchestral guitar noise, majestic samples and sublime electronic beats, it was the voices that really commanded attention. Lead singer Tunde Adebimpe’s aggressive, heartfelt croon — intertwined with guitarist Kyp Malone’s soaring falsetto — put an indelible stamp on the sonic liturgy. Sad and mournful, yet full of hope and possibility, their sound perfectly captured the sense of uncertainty that blanketed the country at the time. The repercussions were felt far and wide. Discriminating DJs such as Diplo even produced white-label remixes of the single “Staring at the Sun” to take that feeling to the pretty young things on the dance floor.

Their L.A. debut was a packed, sweaty affair at the Silverlake Lounge, surprising fans with stripped-down arrangements and an unexpected torrent of aggression. “We had no choice,” Sitek recalls. “Our sampler got crushed in the luggage hold of an airplane coming back from Europe. So we just turned the guitars up and called it ‘The Rock Tour.’ ” Still, the band’s grandiose heart shone through, particularly the passionate delivery of Adebimpe, whose live-wire presence sparkled with a new romantic spirituality like an interstellar Sam Cooke.

To me, TV on the Radio were a revelation. Somehow, they juxtaposed shards of My Bloody Valentine’s slow-motion guitar shimmer with echoes of the Beach Boys’ teenage symphonies to God, and the ghostly, brokenhearted dream-pop of post-rock pioneers A.R. Kane. Still, they were completely original. A band hadn’t stirred my wide-eyed eternal-adolescent hunger for something so decidedly other since the early ’80s, when I used to covertly tape Detroit DJ Mike Halloran as he played then-burgeoning acts like Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Smiths, and Echo and the Bunnymen for the first time.

I wasn’t their only evangelist: David Bowie was also a huge fan, eventually becoming a band confidant and ad hoc adviser (and quietly contributing background vocals to “Province” on the new album). It’s appropriate, as their melodically discordant transmissions could be blood-related to the Thin White Duke’s fertile Lodger/Scary Monsters era.

“[Bowie] didn’t break down our star signs or anything, but he’s been an open ear to us,” laughs Sitek. “He made his feelings about our music known pretty early in the game. Right after Young Liars came out is when we first heard from him. He’s been very encouraging. He’s a remarkable man with an incredible wealth of experience and probably one of the few people I’ll actually listen to on this Earth.”

Following Young Liars with the equally outstanding Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes (replacing drum machines with the flesh-and-blood rhythm section of Jaleel Bunton and Gerard Smith), TV on the Radio proved to be more than a fluke or moment in time, but a force worthy of my (and Bowie’s) reckless admiration.

Now they’ve taken the precarious leap to the murky major-label world to release the ambitiously beautiful Return to Cookie Mountain, which finds the quintet flying even closer to the sun, shimmering with disembodied samples anchored by treated acoustic sources and those captivating harmonies. Combining the atmospheric majesty of the first EP with the grittier buzz of Desperate Youth, the new album hums with an experimental fervor. The manic “Wolf Like Me” is all machine-gun tempos and psychosexual allusions as eerie as the video, which features werewolves and America’s Next Top Model Cycle 4 winner Naima Mora
(“. . . When the moon is round and full/Gonna teach you tricks that’ll blow your mongrel mind”).

“This record was a lot more time-consuming and complicated than the others,” sighs Sitek. “I guess you could say there was a lot more addition at the beginning, followed by a lot more subtraction,” he adds somewhat cryptically. “We recorded every possible way and on every medium you can imagine. Every member of the band took ownership of different parts. We’re chronic overdoers.”

When Sitek brushes off the idea of the band’s being upset by the rampant Internet leak of Cookie Mountain earlier this year (“We just knew right then and there that we could make a big deal out of something we had no control over, or we could just get some pizza. We chose the pizza”), it’s obvious that music is not foremost in his mind these days.

“In the grand scheme of things,” he muses, “given situations like Katrina and wars overseas, we’re way more concerned about other, far more important things. We didn’t set out to make a political record. We were just trying to cover all aspects of what it’s like to be a human being right now. It was just impossible to ignore what’s going on in the world.”

That’s obvious, from the new album’s opening line (“I was a lover/before this war”) to songs like last year’s free-download single “Dry Drunk Emperor,” which harshly criticized the Bush administration’s handling of the Katrina situation.

“I’m not surprised, but definitely disappointed [by the lack of more message-driven music]. I do think that it’s happening, it’s just not supported by the music industry,” says Sitek. “I’m more surprised about the lack of Abbie Hoffmans than the lack of Bob Dylans at this point anyway. Huxley would say that the government doesn’t have to bother controlling what people can read, since most people will just take Soma and not be interested in reading anyway. I’d say what we’re experiencing right now is a combination of fear and Prozac.

“I’m obsessed with the idea that there are billions of people without clean drinking water. It’s really fucking with me. It’s kind of hard to be talking about music and simultaneously thinking about that fact,” he says. “I’m really into the work of Dr. [Masaru] Emoto, who wrote The Hidden Messages in Water” — which postulates that water can absorb and transmit human emotion. “I read that and The Secret Life of Plants in the same month, so now I’m really sensitive to the idea that as a human species, we’re all connected, and how our thoughts can affect outcome and physical properties. What kind of overwhelmingly positive experience can occur in the world to drown out the sound of doubt and fear that’s so prevalent right now?” he asks.

TV on the Radio’s music poses the same question — and answers itself with itself. Modesty aside, Sitek knows there’s no need to belittle its value. Music is not a luxury.

“Instead of focusing on the world falling apart, we should be thinking that something beautiful and possible could explode right in front of us,” Sitek continues, animated. “Music is an immediate way to break a cycle. You can blast the speakers and overwhelm yourself. With this record, we really wanted to contribute to the positive power of that feeling.”

Can I get a witness?

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 09/06)

DJ SHADOW: FULL BLAST

What are the makings of a legend? Throughout the history of contemporary recorded music, precious few bands and artists have faced the seemingly insurmountable task of following up a certified masterpiece — a musical milestone that comes to define its time and is beloved by legions of fans as the soundtrack to a particularly golden moment in life. For DJ Shadow, that moment came with the release of his debut album, 1996's Endtroducing… (Mo'Wax). Built entirely on an infinite universe of samples (Guinness World Records casts it as the first LP composed completely from sampled sounds), it was the album that introduced the rest of the world to the vinyl-obsessed world of the bedroom DJ/producer, forever searching for long-lost memories and melodies to recombine into something brand new, vital and ultimately timeless. Its intricate arrangements and decidedly hip-hop approach to making mood-driven, emotional music all but defines a major portion of the 1990s, bridging the gaps between the beat-driven pulses of inner-city streets to the choicest of high-end boutiques. Put it on today, and Endtroducing… still sounds shockingly relevant, as if countless producers and artists haven't spent the last decade desperately trying to replicate its magic.

By the time DJ Shadow himself reemerged with the always-precarious second album, 2002's The Private Press (MCA), the landscape had more than changed; it had exploded into a million tiny subgenres that found everything from trashy indie rock to glossy hip-hop, spinning new sonic landscapes for a far shrewder and infinitely more astute audience. When The Private Press played more like a postmodern mixtape than Endtroducing… part two, fans and critics wondered what happened to their instrumental hip-hop golden child. And don't think he didn't notice, especially when it came time to create his wildly eclectic and exceedingly confident third album, The Outsider (Universal Motown, 2006).

“With this new album,” Shadow says from his Bay Area home base during a break from tour rehearsals, “it was a case of me sitting down in my studio and going, ‘Okay, what do I like?’ and ‘What do I want to say right now?’ After The Private Press, I felt like I didn't really have a whole lot more to say in that vein right now. And when I say ‘that vein,’ I mean the sound that most people associate with me, which is a cinematic, kind of emotional and instrumental-type vibe.

“I was a little bit disappointed with how The Private Press performed,” he admits. “When you're in a business, you don't want to go down, down, down; you want to go up, up, up. I didn't feel very encouraged to head down that direction again, particularly after how that record was received. I also think that in the spirit of being realistic, for me to put out an instrumental record, be it now or 50 years from now, people will always have a knee-jerk reaction and automatically compare it to Entroducing…. I just didn't feel like dealing with that either,” he adds wearily.

If there was a pigeonhole mold left for DJ Shadow (aka Josh Davis) to shatter, he blows it to bits with the party-time “hyphy” hip-hop meets introspective, Radiohead-ish contemplation that marks the aptly titled new album. “When I was working on that album, I didn't have anybody to try to please, any fan base to satiate,” Shadow says. “I was just making the record I wanted to hear at that time. When I sit down on the rare occasion that I have the time to make a compilation CD of things that are around me, it sounds a lot like The Outsider. The sound of different types of music smashed right up against each other doesn't bother me. I think in this current iTunes, mixtape world, people are ready for this type of record.”


When you were first coming up as a producer, did you hear any important advice from your mentors about making music?

Dan The Automator was pretty important. When I first started working with him back in 1992, he was just a local hip-hop producer, and I devoured any record that he would put out. I don't think he had ever met anybody as gung-ho about talking to him about his own work before me. He's about six or seven years older than me and was definitely something of a mentor. He gave me a lot of advice. I can't say enough about the things he helped me with along the way, especially during the process of making Endtroducing…. There would be times when I would just need a pep talk, and he was really good for stuff like that. I remember one particular day, when I had one of those awful challenges in the studio and was just wasting time, and I was getting despondent about a track. He got me out of the studio, and we talked about it over dinner. When we got back, I was able to nail the track with his guidance. Just for that alone, I'll always feel kind of indebted to him.

When you start creating a beat, finding a sample or writing a part, how and when do you know which direction it's going to go?

Lots of times I sit down intending to do one thing, and by the end of the night, I quickly realize that it's heading in another direction. If that's a direction that I haven't gone in before, then it's exciting for me. If, for whatever reason — whether it's the mood I'm in or just a sequence of decisions that I make — I end up with a weaker version of what I set out to do, then I just let it go.

The Outsider is so diverse, from venturing into the Bay Area — based hyphy scene to more cinematic, funky, rocky or folky sounds. When do you decide if you're going to want a thuggish kind of rap, an ethereal vocal or whatever?

Every time I put out a record, I try not to repeat myself. I think that's one of the reasons I found it more fun and rewarding artistically to make tracks that don't sound like what I'm normally associated with. This is my 15th year making records. Most artists that I respect and have a long-term career don't just sit in one place. They evolve. With a song like “3 Freaks,” I set out to make what in hyphy terms is called a “slapper” [characterized by teeth-rattling bass lines]. As unorthodox as it is, I felt really strong about it. It came fairly quickly and hit all of the buttons I wanted to push. But for every track like that, there are three or four that didn't go very far.

Last time Remix talked to you when you were working on The Outsider, you said the album would be a mix of samples and live instruments. How did that play out?

I didn't constrict myself to using only vinyl. I was buying vinyl before I made music, and I'll be buying vinyl long after this quote-unquote “crate-digging scene.” Vinyl will always be a tool, but it's nice to sit down and write music, too.

Still, there has to be something — be it a synthesizer sound or a sample — that I feel is worthy of building upon; that's where I start with most tracks. On a song like “Erase You” [featuring singer Chris James], I just wanted to tweak the beat, which is fairly well known in the funk world, into something new. With that beat in particular, I had the intention of it being the beat centerpiece of the album, the one where my programming really comes out. Then I sat down with a keyboard and worked out the melody lines.

With the song “What Have I Done” [with singer Christina Carter], which is one of my favorites on this record, there's not a single live instrument on there, even though to me it sounds like it. I played a lot of Mellotron, and there's a lot of complicated sample work going on. Another one without any live instrumentation would be “Backstage Girl” [featuring rapper Phonte Coleman]. But then there are songs that are all live. Using musicians was just another medium that I wanted to explore. “You Made It” [with Chris James] would be a good example of a song that combines the best of both worlds, live and sampled.

In addition to mixing live parts and samples, you've gotten more into working with MIDI. How did that help your process?

After The Private Press tour, the first thing I did when I came back was to move my studio out of my house into a separate space in the city, so that I was commuting to and from work every day. I told myself that I didn't want to make music on the MPC anymore. It took me a good year of making noise on Pro Tools 7 that didn't sound very good before work on the record started. [Shadow and engineer Count ended up sticking with version 6.9.2.] MIDI is one of those things that can seem very simple once you get it. It's nice when it gets to a point where all of these different technologies aren't mysterious or daunting but instead are conduits for the artistic impulses in the moment. But it takes a long time to get to those places.

You use Native Instruments Battery, Kontakt and Reaktor. In what way did using soft synths and samplers change your music?

One of the things that I like about Battery is the concept of injecting a live feel by having the trigger points randomized a little bit. For example, I would randomize the volume and attack of the hi-hats within a certain small parameter. Subconsciously, it begins to feel less robotic. I think that works on songs where you want the drums to sound live.

It also took me a little while to figure out how to place a sample on the computer screen grid to correspond to my MPC. In other words, when I hit the keypad in the lower left corner on the MPC, I wanted the sample in the lower left corner on the screen to play. It might sound simple, but it took days to figure out. Native Instruments stuff isn't always the user-friendliest gear in the world, although I recently heard they just came out with a new tactile device [Kore] that tames all of the different plug-ins into a universal tool. That sounds good to me, since I found that with every different Native Instruments plug-in, the rules were totally different. I'd hit one shortcut key on the keyboard, and it would do one thing with one plug-in and something totally different with another. That's the kind of stuff that I think is daunting to people. I remember talking to producer Droop-E, who did a remix of “3 Freaks,” about Battery, and he said he had to send it back because it was too complicated. I totally sympathize. But that's why I gave myself a good year to wrap my head around all of this technology I was using before I started getting serious about The Outsider.

Did you have any challenges constructing the more sample-centric tracks on the album?

With the song “The Tiger,” just getting that polyrhythmic effect with all of the different percussive samples that are in there was just grueling. It took two weeks to get all of those sounds to work together. Throughout the album, there's a lot of weird time-signature stuff going on. I found “The Tiger” to be rhythmically really exciting, and I didn't want to let that down. “Backstage Girl” was another real hard one, as I set out for it to be the sample showcase on the record. That's for the people who enjoy my ability to combine different samples into one coherent idea, so they could know that I've still got it. [Laughs.] There were just so many tracks on that one. If you listen closely, you can hear that the song speeds up gradually, but I'm still using the same samples. When you're working on a grid, doing that can be a real trick.

When you're working with guest singers or rappers, how do you help bring the best out of them?

An example of someone that was totally malleable and willing to go in whatever direction would be Phonte Coleman [of the hip-hop trio Little Brother] on the song “Backstage Girl.” He flew here from North Carolina right in the middle of a lot of family stuff. He came in, put his head down and went to work. No matter what I threw at him, he was ready to give it a try. It was a truly easy and effortless experience. Everything that he did, he kind of nailed on the first try. That's an example of a dream experience. Then you have people who take a little bit of direction, and then what they end up doing may or may not be anything like you had in mind. I think one of the challenges for me when that happens is figuring out how to make the track my own again. That's why when I give people tracks to write to, I only finish them halfway. I know there's no point in finishing it before they've added their part. I like to see what people bring to the table, so I can wrap the track around what they wrote.

When a song just isn't working for you, how do you tackle trying to get it back on track?

That's the great struggle. When I finish a day of work, and I feel really shitty about it, that's when I just strip everything back and basically start over. The older I get, it just feels like I have a lot less time to do what I have to do than I used to. I find myself having to deal with a lot more shit I'd rather not deal with than I did when I was 21 and in college. You just don't care at that age, and you're willing to work for 12 hours straight. I find that really hard to do now.

[Nowadays], there seems to be pressure to get more stuff done when you have that time set aside specifically to work. I hate those days. The song “Enuff” [featuring Lateef the Truth Speaker and Q-Tip], was one that at a certain point I was really struggling with. I'd gotten the music quite far along compared to a lot of demos that I do, but it still wasn't coming together. It's like looking at a Rubik's Cube and thinking you'll never fucking figure the damn thing out. But then you make that one twist, and suddenly it starts to make sense. A few twists later, and there you have it. Although I never did figure out how to solve a Rubik's Cube, so perhaps that's not the best analogy. When those things happen and you make all the right decisions, it feels really good and is the most rewarding. I think that's the reason why I'm uncharacteristically vocal about how much I love this album. The Outsider has the highest ratio of successes to failures as far as seeing songs through to the end in the way that I originally envisioned them.

Do you have a song junkyard that you visit to resurrect certain songs parts from?

The song “Six Days” from The Private Press is the best example of that. Back in 1994, I'd intended to do an EP with the [rapper] Gift of Gab, and even though the music at the time was some of my best work, for whatever reason, we couldn't get it together. So those tracks were just always languishing in the archives. By the time I was working on The Private Press, I ended up going back to the original record where I'd mined the main loop of one of those old songs and totally rethinking the way I used and treated it. The more I listened to it, the more I realized that I needed to finish the track. “Six Days” will always be one of my personal favorites. That song, along with “You Can't Go Home Again,” really hit the spot as far as what I was trying to do with that album.

At what point do you abandon a grandiose idea or sample combination to save the song?

Even when I spend two weeks on something, I feel like I have a pretty good internal monitor to let me know if I'm doing something good or just wasting time. At the time I was working on “The Tiger,” I felt like it was worth investing the time. It provided a really unique element to the album that I just didn't want to fuck up. I recently saw the movie Dig! There are a lot of scenes where Antone Newcombe, the main guy from the Brian Jonestown Massacre, seems to be just spinning his wheels in the studio. I've seen that throughout my whole career and even felt it at various times. I think that the biggest mistake any artist can do is to not release their effort at some point. I've seen so many friends of mine do great albums and then spend the next three months just second-guessing the whole project and not putting it out. That's just a real shame, I think. For me, when the time you've given yourself to record is up, just put it out, good or bad.

That's why I think I'm so hard on myself in the studio because I don't want to confront failure. Although I have had to deal with it, like on the UNKLE album [the 1998 Psyence Fiction record Shadow made with Mo'Wax founder James Lavelle, which corralled guest vocalists such as Radiohead's Thom Yorke, The Verve's Richard Ashcroft and Beastie Boy Mike D]. When we were mastering it, I knew in my heart that it was missing a song or two. I was really conflicted about the nominal segues between the songs because I thought they were just a waste and not helping the album. But you never know that until you get to sequencing. That's the day of reckoning. With Endtroducing…, sequencing was really effortless. With the UNKLE record, I think there are great songs there, some among my best work. But as an album, it doesn't really hold together. With The Outsider, I felt good during sequencing. I wasn't intimidated by the different nature of the various songs, and it came together in the end as a complete album.

(Originally published as the cover story of REMIX Magazine, Sept. 06)

Party Time in Bear City!

*Meet Sweden’s newest black-metallers-turned-pop-tarts, the Teddybears*

Few can crank out the guilty/not guilty pop pleasures like the Scandinavians: ABBA, Roxette, Ace of Base, teen-pop impresario Max Martin, Junior Senior. The Scandy-pop tribes simply have an uncanny knack for sating the world’s musical sweet tooth. The latest in a proud tradition: The Teddybears, a former hard-rock band — called Skull! — from Sweden, now making dancy indie rock-pop-dancehall-electronic fluff. Their debut album, Soft Machine (Big Beat/Atlantic), is an unabashed and better-than-expected good time.

The Teddybears wear huge bear heads, but their identities are not a secret. You may remember Teddybear Joakim Ahlund from his other other band, Caesars. No? How about “Jerk It Out,” Caesars’ catchy-cool garage rocker that sounded like Franz Ferdinand doing Smash Mouth, heard on those flailing-silhouette iPod commercials last year? Yeah, I thought so.

That song was overexposed to the point of ubiquity; now, the Teddybears are reaping the benefits of that (literally) commercial success. Ahlund has reinvented Teddybears into a jumpy dance-pop outfit somewhere between DFA, Fatboy Slim and a semi-ironic Hollywood hipster party (like there’s any other kind). And since we hook-hungry consumers can’t get enough of scarily catchy tunes in adverts, their hand-clappy raga-charged single “Cobrastyle” has been making the rounds in spots for Tab Energy drink and, most effectively, a break-dancing Heineken ad worth finding on YouTube. (Note: “Cobrastyle” refers to guest vocalist Mad Cobra.)

The disc has plenty of sweaty dance tracks à la “Cobrastyle,” including “Throw Your Hands Up” (with dancehall hero Elephant Man on the mike), but keep your ears open for two particular standouts. “Yours to Keep” is a sunny, top-down anthem featuring the original Kelis (that would be Neneh Cherry) on vocals, with new school Swedish pop queen Annie cooing behind her. A close second is “Punkrocker,” featuring the king of them all, Iggy Pop, barking to the guitar-powered beat. So: While Soft Machine may not exactly be a work of substance, that’s pretty much the point. In short, don’t think — just dance.



THE TEDDYBEARS | Soft Machine | Big Beat/Atlantic

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 9/06)

Favourite Sons, Sea Wolf at Spaceland, 9/18

The multinational coalition Favourite Sons trade in what the Waterboys’ Mike Scott would call “The Big Music,” a grand, anthemic sound that soars on emotion and muscular musicianship. Singer-songwriter Ken Griffin fronted ’90s Irish shoegazers Rollerskate Skinny, while his cohorts paid their dues in Philly psychedelics Aspera before crashing together in New York City during 2004. Rabid blogerati have already anointed them serious contenders for the Next Big Thing of 2006 for songs like the hard-charging “Hang on Girl,” eagerly spewing superlatives all over their debut, Down Beside Your Beauty, possibly the most genuinely earnest record ever released on the Vice label. Recalling Doves channeling Ocean Rain–era Echo & the Bunnymen fronted by a civilized Iggy Pop, their refined sincerity is a welcome relief. Promising L.A. atmospheric folkies Sea Wolf share the bill.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, 9/06)

EVERYBODY DO THE PIGEON!

*Underground L.A. rapper Pigeon John can’t help it — he’s weird*

Pigeon John looks almost nervous. But not for long. A slight guy dressed simply in jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, the longtime L.A. rapper steps to the microphone on a balmy summer night. The venue, Safari Sam’s, is a converted strip club, and it kind of shows: Red velvet lines the walls, and the remnant of a stripper pole stands in a darkened corner. The setting is oddly appropriate — the exotic dancers of yore replaced by a mob of aspiring microphone fiends on the maiden Scribble Jam Tour. From far and wide, rappers have descended on Sam’s with a vengeance, talking shop and slinging CDs in the parking lot between turns onstage before the all-out rap battle that concludes each event.

The crowd curiously eyes Pigeon John’s band — an unassuming bunch including a drummer, a guitarist/keyboardist and a DJ. But the curiosity turns to involvement; soon John’s self-effacing sense of humor and catchy, melodic tunes, mostly from his new Pigeon John and the Summertime Pool Party on Quannum, have pulled people in from the parking lot and closer to the stage. The draw is partly the stage electricity, partly the songs, with their deft juxtapositions of the funny and the poignant.

John’s not afraid to make light of hard times and bleak situations. “This one,” he explains cheerfully, “is about the time I woke up to find an eviction notice on my front door!” He tosses a curve ball: “This next one is for all of the gay brothers in the house. Put your hands up!” (He’s straight, recently married to his longtime girlfriend.) The audience just look at him, not sure if they should laugh, boo or throw something. He introduces “Do the Pigeon” as a new dance he made up that morning in the shower, then launches his body into a spastic whirlwind of clapping arms and bugged-out eyes, like the cartoon character Ren of Ren & Stimpy come to life — hip-hop in Technicolor. One vignette features a booming voice-over demanding he get off the stage. “What am I doing here?” he laments. “No one wants to hear from a 43-year-old rapper.” Everyone’s laughing now, including fellow L.A. underground rapper Busdriver and Beat Junkies DJ Rhettmatic. “That was good, but a little disturbing,” says one friend at set’s end. “He’s funny, but the songs are kind of... heavy.”

Told of my friend’s response, Pigeon John throws his head back and laughs. “I love that. Going back to my early days, the only way I really stood out and got people’s attention was to encompass my music in a happy vibe, even though there are deeper meanings to the songs,” he says, sitting on the front patio of downtown’s Standard Hotel, smoking a cigarette and sporting a tiny pin emblazoned with an image of Hank Williams. “I like contradictions. I love really happy songs that are terrifying. Simon and Garfunkel are great at it, and the Beach Boys are the best. I’m a big fan of movies as well, and Wes Anderson is phenomenal at doing that. On the surface, his films like The Royal Tenenbaums seem like comedy, but then there’s suicide, divorce and stuff. He finds a way to case it in a candy-coated shell. That’s the way I do rap music. The kind of hip-hop I’m most into is hardcore like early Mobb Deep. But when I try to make straight-ahead hardcore rap, it comes out totally different and kind of weird. It’s not really my purpose, but I just can’t help it,” he shrugs.


Contradiction comes fast and furious for this happily conflicted rapper. When he was a mixed-race kid in an all-white area of the Midwest, his mother was young, maybe too young, and dealing with demons of her own.

“I was born in Omaha, and then moved to L.A. in, like, kindergarten. There was a lot of moving,” he remembers. “My mom was only 23, and we never stayed in one place for too long. I was very used to having her wake my brother, sister and me up in the middle of the night; we’d lay a sheet down in the living room, throw all of our clothes in there, tie it up and go. We didn’t realize it was to skip rent and stuff like that.

“Being in Nebraska in the ’80s, there weren’t a lot of black people,” he sighs. “I had a couple of friends, but it was mostly an onslaught of the N word, very terrible things for a kid to deal with. When I moved to Inglewood, it was the total opposite. I was the sore thumb once again. But that’s when I really discovered music, particularly rap.”

Going from being the only black kid in Nebraska to the lightest in predominantly black Inglewood, young Pigeon John escaped to the same refuge so many other tortured souls seek out in desperate times: the radio. “All of that turmoil eventually had a lot of influence on my music, which was filtered through listening to the original KDAY as a child. They played UTFO, Run-DMC and the Beastie Boys, but they also played Madonna, Human League, Oingo Boingo — it was the bomb,” he smiles wistfully. “In that era, everything was mixed together. So when I started writing music, what came out sounded very ’80s. I can’t escape melodies and harmonies. I even get a little annoyed at myself, like, ‘Why can’t you just rap?’”

First getting on at L.A.’s legendary Good Life Café in the early ’90s, John busted his ass to find his own voice. “The first time I got onstage, I thought I was fresh,” he laughs, “and there was no reaction whatsoever. I went back every week for three years just to get people to pay attention, let alone be impressed.”

Now he’s toured across the country more times than he can count, releasing well-received independent albums (like the affecting emo-hop of Pigeon John Is Dating Your Sister) and creating an audience for his genuinely colorblind brand of boom-bap. He’s now signed with the influential heavyweight indie label Quannum, which will take his show to Europe and Australia after an American tour alongside Busdriver.

“It’s been a sloppy, slow process,” he muses with a grin. “But looking back, it all seems very natural.”

For his new album, John uses that lifetime of experience to create arguably his best work. The rugged “One for the Money” finds him holding his own on the microphone alongside the awesome Rhymesayers rapper Brother Ali (no small feat), but those insistent pop hooks are never far from the fore; Mr. Hansen would be happy to pen something as peppy as “Brand New Day,” while “Money Back Guarantee” taps a sample of the Pixies’ “Hey” to ignite the chorus.

“I listen to all music through a hip-hop mind; everything is loops. But I’ve always loved the Pixies and wanted to do something with that song. My hope,” John stresses, “is to go back to where there are no lines, where it’s just music. Someone like Beck is amazing at it. What he makes is just good music that everybody can enjoy. That’s my goal.”

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, September 2006)

DANNY MASTERSON: HEATSEEKER

Yeah, he knows you know who he is. His friends know what you think about him. But they’re still having the best time ever. Spend a night on the town with one of Hollywood’s most conspicuous party people...

The night started innocently enough. It was a serene poolside scene at Hollywood’s legendary (and now notorious, thanks to Amanda Demme) Roosevelt Hotel, tonight playing host to a splashy Xbox party to celebrate the 2006 E3 Convention in Los Angeles, best described as a Winter Music Conference for tech-heads and extreme game enthusiasts. As leggy models dispense top-shelf liquor at a series of open bars, celebrities like Matthew Perry and Michael Vartan maintain their cool while being shamelessly gawked at by out-of-town video execs and pretty much everyone else. The shimmering pool is dramatically lit and surrounded by massive TV sets that are hooked up to game consoles for partygoers to easily experience the latest Xbox offerings. It’s not long before the area is teeming in a frothy crush of industry power players, recognizable working actors and enough inside chatter to keep gossip sites like Defamer.com on fire for weeks.

Controlling the sound in the eye of this celeb-reality storm is a particular working actor, tonight still using the stage moniker DJ Donkey Punch. Most under the age of 40 would easily recognize him as Danny Masterson, AKA TV bad boy “Hyde” from popular and omnipresent sitcom That ’70s Show. Having recently finished the series’ impressive eight season run on the Fox network, Masterson and friends are ready to have a good time. A full bottle of Patron is summoned from the bar, and he starts pouring drinks for his posse, which tonight includes his brother Chris, best friend Luke and girlfriend Bijou as in Phillips, the striking actress/tabloid fave best known for edgy cinematic fare like Black & White and Havoc. She throws her arms around Masterson’s neck. “I’m in a fashion show tomorrow night,” she purrs. “I’m walking for Cavalli. And yes, you have to be there.” He just smiles, surely thanking the gods for his good fortune.

Still, Masterson’s TV star status and relaxed demeanor doesn’t make him immune from the same problems most other DJs suffer at gigs, and tonight it’s all about the volume — or lack thereof. Because of the Roosevelt Hotel’s close proximity to old-school Hollywood neighborhoods full of people that work for a living, music spun by the pool after dark has to be kept well lower than Masterson or the partygoers would prefer.

Masterson soldiers on. Using a Sertato digital DJ system, he spins a tasteful blend of alterna-classics from the Smiths next to current favorites Bloc Party amidst more obscure choices, like atmospheric British band Electrelane. It’s a fun, lively mix that alleviates some of the tension that’s inevitable at such high-profile events.

“Yeah, this kind of sucks,” he laments at the restricted sound system that’s fighting a losing battle with the din of conversation rising from the crush of people packed around the pool, now hosting a troupe of scantily-clad beauties splashing through a choreographed interpretive dance. “So let’s just have our own party.” More Patron is poured, and Masterson cues up a particularly raucous tune from Nashville teen punks Be Your Own PET. “Let’s see what they make of this,” he laughs. An explosion of buzz saw guitars and punk girl shrieks pierce the air. A couple of hipster kids in striped tees and asymmetrical haircuts stop by the tables to give Masterson props. Soon he’s whipped up a gaggle of bodies shaking it in the DJ area. By the time I’ve met actor James DeBello (Detroit Rock City, Swimfan) and teased Bijou Phillips about the brilliant way she says the word “library” in Black & White, Masterson’s got a serious party going on, with Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” inspiring more dancers into the fray.

“I know what people think,” admits Masterson’s self-described “BFF” Luke, who also works behind the scenes on Ashton Kutcher’s MTV show Punk’d. “They see Danny spinning and automatically assume he’s just another ‘celebrity DJ,’ but it’s not like that. We started spinning as a team. That first summer we lived in record stores, collecting over 3,000 records. It was just about good songs, mostly classic hip-hop. We weren’t mixing or anything,” he admits. “But Danny took it further, and really learned how to beat-match and mix. I’d suggest a couple of songs that I thought would sound good together, and he could actually make it happen,” he smiles admiringly. “People are always shocked when they see him play. He just did a gig at Ice in Las Vegas and had the whole place rocking.”

“Hey, what are you doing later?” I look to see that Danny’s talking to me. “You should come to Cinespace with us. Pony Up is playing, and they’re awesome!”

WE’RE ON TWO WHEELS, BABY!
“I first started spinning with my boy Jimmy Boyle at the Three of Clubs. That’s when I began buying records, which was like eight or nine years ago,” Masterson remembers a couple of weeks later from the set of his latest acting gig, “heist movie gone wrong” comedy Capers. “DJ AM showed me how to mix the beats, and then Luke and I would go and do our friends’ parties. We’d play really fun hair-metal and random, weird ’80s hip-hop tracks. We’d mix in bad ’80s hits, like Foreigner and Phil Collins. It was hysterical. People didn’t know what was going on.”

It was a joke that turned quite serious when he started getting calls to play at brand-name clubs and parties. Soon, Masterson was a regular on the celebrity DJ circuit, spinning exclusive industry events from Los Angeles to New York. He’s understandably uncomfortable with the “celebrity DJ” tag, but is quick to remind that he does know what the hell he’s doing up there.

“Every once in a while I’ll train-wreck a transition, that’s for sure,” he confesses. “But I understand the role of a DJ. You have to keep the girlies dancing and make sure everyone’s having a good time. The best way to do that is to never have a break in the music, so I learned how to mix well enough to keep it smooth.

“We all started with jail terms, like DJ Tossed Salad and DJ Prison Bitch,” he says about his recently retired moniker DJ Donkey Punch. “When Puff Daddy became P Diddy, I changed mine up to DJ Donkey Pizzle. Now I’ve changed it again. Donkey Pizzle is officially retired, and my new name is DJ Mom Jeans. You heard it first!”

Masterson laughs at the absurdity of it all, but that’s exactly the point.

“Me being a DJ almost became too serious, and that’s the last thing I want. So having crazy names helps keep it fun,” he explains. “I do a lot of parties, and I want it to just be fun. My friends are real DJs, guys like AM, Mark Ronson and Stretch Armstrong. Those are all my boys. I’m just an actor that loves music. Back when I started, there weren’t so many good DJs that could mix all different styles of music. That’s what I wanted to do. Now you’ve got guys like Steve Aoki and DJ Vice that can really rock a party that way. Celebrity DJs are everywhere. Now, I wouldn’t even start DJing. But since I’ve been doing it for so long and it’s still fun, I don’t feel like I have to retire myself.”


RADIO ASYLUM
When Danny Masterson calls himself a DJ, it’s not just in the wheels of steel sense. He’s also one-half of the duo behind radio show “Feel My Heat,” which is broadcast on Los Angeles’ wildly popular FM station Indie 103.1-FM every Monday night. Best known for “Jonesy’s Jukebox,” the weekday lunchtime slot featuring Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones, Indie has become the local bastion of current new rock upstarts next to old-school alternative heroes. On “Feel My Heat,” Masterson and local promoter Brent Bolthouse play whatever they hell they feel like, bolstered with a healthy dose of “color commentary” from Danny. A recent episode boasted a panorama of music ranging from Cold War Kids to the Rakes to Blonde Redhead.

“Brent manages the band Camp Freddy, and he made a deal with Indie to get them on the station,” Masterson recalls of the show’s infancy. “While he was talking to (program director) Michael Steele, Brent jokingly asked for his own slot. Michael said sure. So when it came time for (Bolthouse) to do his first show, he asked me to stop by and hang out with him on the air. I went, and it was fun. For the second week, he asked me to come back and bring my own records to play. I played like five or six songs that next week, and started talking mad shit on the air, really funny stuff. After the third week he said he didn’t want to do the show without me. Brent’s got his style of music, and I’m out searching high and low for all types of hot new music, whatever’s awesome. With Brent, it’s more of a conversation and telling a story, while I just rip on everybody, including myself” he says with an evil giggle. “Nothing’s sacred.”

A highlight of “Feel My Heat” is the “Ode to Silverlake” segment, which is a musical middle finger directed towards the cooler-than-you hipsters that populate LA’s famously hyper-trendy Silverlake neighborhood.

“We were playing a Weezer song on one of the first shows, and this hipster kid from (Silverlake) calls up complaining, ‘you shouldn’t be playing fucking Weezer, man. That’s not indie.’ I couldn’t believe it. I was like, ‘Where do you think you got your haircut, your clothes and your whole style?’” Masterson seethes. “Weezer is like your godfather, you stupid motherfucker! So just to mess with him, we played something like “Come Sail Way” by Styx, and that turned into something we do on every show now. It’s directed at all of the hipsters that go to Star Shoes, Beauty Bar and Cinespace,” he adds, naming just a few of LA’s current hotspots. “We’ll play songs like White Lion’s ‘When The Childern Cry’ just for them. Last week we played ‘Pac-Man Fever’ by Buckner & Garcia.” The irony that these cheesy nuggets are being spun on the city’s premier outlet of what’s perennially fashionable is not lost on Materson. “We do it because we can,” he chuckles. “It’s all in good fun.”


PARTY ON
Wisely, I accept Masterson’s aforementioned offer to accompany him to the Pony Up gig at Cinespace. Leaving the now-sloppy last dirges of the Xbox party, Masterson, Bijou Phillips and Luke pile into a chauffeured SUV. Maneuvering through thick traffic up Hollywood Boulevard, it only takes a few minutes to arrive at the club, where people that you’ve surely seen populating the pages of Cobrasnake.com are milling out front when Masterson rolls to the door. Leaping up the red-carpeted stairs into Cinespace, those very same hipsters he likes to tease are clearly happy to see him. He gets an endless sea of pounds, smiles and “what’s up’s?” through the crammed dance-floor where a DJ is blasting Robert Palmer. By the time his crew gets to the main room, Pony Up has already started their set.

“They sound so much better than the last time I saw them,” Masterson explains of the Montreal band’s ear-ticklish blend of smart girl vocals and guitar-driven beatitudes before heading to the bar to buy the first round of drinks. When he gets back, fellow celeb DJ Steve Aoki is in tow, bouncing around with his usual surplus of energy. The Cobrasnake himself stops by and snaps a few photos. Masterson holds court on anything and everything. Topics range from his adoration of actor Sean Penn (“The greatest of our generation”) and Pearl Jam singer Eddie Vedder (“They’re the only two people out here that I have too much respect for to even meet,” he admits) to the uselessness of psychiatrists (“All they want to do is get you on drugs,” he muses).

“Hey man, I get it,” he says at the end of the night back in the SUV on his way home. “I got lucky, and on a sitcom at that. People can say what they want, but we were on for eight years. It was a successful show, and that’s the reason I can do what I do. Now that I’m here, I want to make more good things happen, have success in other places.” Given his investments in popular LA restaurant Dolce to the immense buzz around his jazz night Kid’s Cotton Club at Hollywood spot Guy’s (“I want to recreate the original jazz joints of Harlem”), it’s apparent that he’s doing more than simply supplying tabloids with fresh fodder. “We’re not just dumb kids anymore.”

GIRLTALK: RIPPIN' & DIPPIN'

Move over, mashups! Now there’s somethin’ meatier: DJ Girl Talk’s Night Ripper

In 2006, everyone’s a DJ — even you! — thanks to MP3s and the iTunes playlist function. But nobody celebrates sonic egalitarianism, or takes it to such frantic extremes, as does DJ Girl Talk (a.k.a. Pittsburgh DJ Greg Gillis), whose highly actionable new mashup CD Night Ripper (Illegal Art) is all the rage on the underground.

Bordering on a new-school Paul’s Boutique for the pop-culture-obsessed ADHD set, Night Ripper salutes as much of the past 30 years of contemporary music as possible in as short a time span as possible. Where most mashups simply juxtapose a few tracks with similar BPMs or chord progressions, Girl Talk piles a decadent number of songs on top of each other to create a manic variation on Name That Tune — or a digital twist on ’80s mixmasters Stars On 45.

A routine like “Bounce That” finds the Purple Ribbon All-Stars rapping over a perpetually morphing series of beats from the Emotions, LCD Soundsystem, the Breeders, Laura Branigan and Britney Spears (just to name a few) in just two minutes. “Hold Up” features James Taylor crooning over a Mariah Carey loop before the Pixies’ “Where Is My Mind” sets the stage for Nas to rock the mic before pitting Weezer against a Chicago ghetto-tech rhythm. In all, there are more than 150 samples (each credited in the liner notes) that fuel the party-hearty dance mix.

Incredibly, this potential litigation orgy is not something you have to hunt down, but can be easily purchased at regular retailers like Amazon. Of course, the blogoheads are hot and bothered over Girl Talk: Some hail him as the new DJ messiah, while others consider him no better than musical fast food. With a live show notorious for “seminudity” and audience participation, the buzz should be deafening by the time he sets a date here in Los Angeles. But now that everyone from MTV to The New Yorker is onto him, he knows the clock is ticking. As he put it on his MySpace page recently, “I’m now a hyped band — get ready to hate me in approximately one year.” In his case, make that six months.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, August 2006)

Justin Timberlake Live @ House of Blues Sunset, 8/11

Measured by the celebrities in attendance at this crazy exclusive club date, Justin Timberlake is one of pop’s brightest lights — Ellen DeGeneres, the Hilton sisters, Tyra Banks and Pharrell Williams were some of the fan favorites eliciting shrieks from below whenever they peered over the VIP balcony. But once the former ’N Sync-er took the stage, it became obvious why everyone was there.

Lifting off with a bombastic version of his revenge fantasy “Cry Me a River” (take that, Britney!), Timberlake then led his tight all-black band through an exuberant take on the rollicking juke-joint number “Señorita,” with the capacity crowd singing louder than Timberlake himself. But the new songs were the true test, and for the most part they passed. “My Love” (which got a five-star review from Pitchfork’s terminal hipsters) is another top-flight Timbaland collaboration, riding an easy Southern hip-hop groove and falsetto melody. Will.I.Am showed up to guest on his collabo “Damn Girl,” an upbeat pop romp screaming for radio play. The lilting ballad “Until the End of Time” showcased Timberlake’s knack for sticky melodies and sugary sentiment. “Like I Love You” became a live mashup, slipping the riff to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” underneath the chorus. The party ramped up when Timbaland and the Three 6 Mafia busted onstage; even the band seemed bemused by Timberlake’s delight at performing alongside such hip-hop heavyweights. And the rousing closer, the ambitiously bizarre new single “SexyBack,” drew the loudest ovation of the night from the partisan crowd. If Timberlake’s upcoming FutureSex/LoveSounds shows this kind of breadth and bump, it could be the hottest pop album since, well, Justified.

Timberlake has carved an enviable niche in the pop-cultural landscape, with a pansexual identity that excites both gay boys and the decidedly female TRL massive. Musically, he enjoys a credibility that’s as much about his own undeniable talents as about the company he keeps. It’s like Prince and Madonna really did have a baby in the ’80s.

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, August 2006)

JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE @ HOUSE OF BLUES SUNSET, 8/11 (Preview)

Who’s laughing now? While the teen pop bubble may have burst, ’NSync refugee Justin Timberlake fashioned a golden parachute from the fabric of music’s most pervasive beat bosses, specifically the Neptunes and Timbaland. His resulting solo debut, Justified (Jive) exploded with hooks and hits, effectively catapulting him from teeny-bop pretty boy to number one contender for the king of pop crown (Usher? Puh-leeze!). Now he’s ready to take his next shot at the top spot with the forthcoming Futuresex/Lovesounds (Jive), led by the four-on-the-floor robo-funk of freaky first single “Sexyback,” an ambitious blast of club flash that bumps like something by idiosyncratic Chicago house pioneer Green Velvet (get thee to Wikipedia!), courtesy of ’06 production MVP Timbaland. Dress to sweat — there won’t be a dry body in the house.
(Originally published in the LA Weekly, August ’06)

MR LIF w/CAGE @ KNITTING FACTORY, LA (Preview)

Two of indie hip-hop’s most compelling characters team up Wonder Twins style to activate this dynamic double-bill. Boston’s Mr. Lif is cruising in on the back of his fully realized new release, Mo’ Mega (Def Jux), which tempers his trademark high-minded microphone mediations with some of his most personal ruminations to date. Updating the Public Enemy manifesto of self-empowerment through boombastic beats, Lif’s lyrical dexterity is truly a wonder to behold. Def Jux labelmate Cage comes to the table with an unbelievably brutal back-story that powers tough-talking bomb tracks. From stories of childhood abuse to his own twisted tales of drugs, drama and violence, Hell’s Winter, the latest release from this self-described “recovering mental patient” is the sonic equivalent of a particularly heinous Harvey Keitel film as sound-tracked by El-P. Get ready to rumble, y’all.

(originally posted in the LA Weekly, July 2006. The pic of Mr. Lif ripping it up live is from his Myspace page. Word.)

EARLY MAN at the Whiskey, LA (Preview)

If you want blood, classic Midwest metal-heads Early Man bring it by the bucketful. This Ohio-bred duo of Mike Conte (vocals, guitars) and Adam Bennati (drums) invoke a gleefully evil heavy metal thunder that recalls the glory years of Iron Maiden, Mercyful Fate and Metallica when they still mattered. Sharpening their battleaxes in New York City, Early Man landed on major indie label Matador, releasing a self-titled EP and the skull-crushing full-length, Closing In (both feature their signature song, stoner feel-good anthem “Death is The Answer”). EM’s unpretentious, denim and concert t-shirt-clad rawk is a demolition derby of blistering riffs and Conte’s maniacal, young Ozzy howl. Fleshing out the live show with a bassist and second guitarist, EM is sure to do major damage in the intimate confines of the Whiskey. Wolf who?

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, July 2006)

RADIOHEAD @ The Greek, Los Angeles, June 29, 2006 Pt. 1

Section A, Row K seat 46. Two rows behind Slash, three seats to the right of Steven Bauer. Oh, starry night. The Big Dipper looms overhead...

The band sounds phenomenal. The new songs are strikingly brilliant: "Videotape," "All I Need," "Arpeggi" (which comes with a rapid-fire sub-rhythm somewhere between Aphex Twin and Timbaland), and stunner "Bangers and Mash," featuring our hero Thom Yorke on a drum kit which he summarily destroys by set's end. All welcome additions to the Radiohead canon. "Idiotique" rages with the energy of Underworld's entire catalog, which Yorke's conducts like his own private rave. "Everything in its Right Place" stands as one of their most timeless monuments, truly classic rock, no less evocative than "Baba O'Reilley." Yorke playfully chastises a fan for requesting "Creep," later muttering "'Creep' my ass," during the encore towards the persistent request maker, instead launching into the soulful new ballad "House of Cards." When they revisit "Pablo Honey," the hordes go customarily berserk. Flashbulbs pepper the crowd during a particularly grand performance of "Paranoid Android." They swagger and sway, jerk, sputter and flail. Radiohead have tapped into a particularly 21st century kind of anxiety, and in the process come to define more than just a moment in time. New iconic giants are go.

HAVE FUN, FUCK SHIT UP

Youth is not wasted on teen punks Be Your Own Pet
By SCOTT T. STERLING

Wednesday, June 21, 2006 - 3:01 pm


The No. 1 enemy to any teenager in the world is boredom. Kids will do anything to avoid the B word, from wanton sex to trading prescription pharmaceuticals to forming a rock band (for the luckier parents out there). And despite what Chuck Klosterman may say in the June issue of Esquire, teenagers are alive and well in 2006. Exhibit A: new teen-punk heroes Be Your Own Pet, who are the polar opposite of boring.

These bona fide adolescents (all under 20), who formed BYOP at the progressive Nashville School of the Arts in 2002, seek to incite a white-hot riot of teen fury, their songs rushing by in a cacophonous flash (many clock in at 90 seconds), with the band — Nathan Vasquez (bass, afro), Jonas Stein (guitar) and Jamin Orrall (drums) — playing so fast they seem to race each other to the next tune (think Bad Brains beating the crap out of the Ramones). Much like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, to whom they’re most often compared, deep inside these seething whippets of nervy energy lies a real sense of tunefulness and song craft that belies their age, and apparent ADD. The band’s writing skills shine brightest on “October, First Account,” which could very easily play as BYOP’s “Maps” (to really beat the YYY comparison to death). Somewhere between Cat Power gone electric and the Blake Babies’ younger siblings, BYOP even have the audacity (and capability) to toss a disco-reggae break into the song like some sort of mutant Blondie 2.0 without breaking a sweat. In case you haven’t been paying attention, this lot can really play, which is not something one can say about many of their teen-punk contemporaries.

They’re also fronted by this year’s most reluctant indie sex symbol, Jemina Pearl, whose almost embarrassingly fine profile is an obvious point of contention (at one point in our interview she mentions the proliferation of “creepy older guys” at their shows). You’ll be hard pressed to find a photo of the band where she’s even looking up, unless you count their conspicuous presence on the latest cover of trendy fashion monthly Nylon.

“Yeah, we’re on the cover of that magazine,” Pearl deadpans about the splashy spread. “It’s cool, I don’t know. They dressed us up in all of these stupid-looking clothes. I look ridiculous, I think. All of us do, really. It doesn’t even look like us. Whatever.”

They’ve already got the U.K. eating out of their hands: When the band took the stage at a massive U.K. festival last summer and nerves forced Pearl to vomit into a towel, fans begged for it (ew). She obliged by throwing it into the crowd, watching incredulously as they fought over its rancid contents (double ew). They also melted what seemed like a million hearts at this year’s SXSW fest — the hysteria mostly generated from their MySpace page, which had only been set up six weeks prior. In sum, BYOP — who cribbed their moniker from a song by Infinity Cat band Art Circus — have quickly become a pop phenomenon of genuine note.

When I track down Pearl and the rest of the band, it’s over the phone from Detroit, on the much-heralded 6/6/06 — the same day their eponymous debut album on Thurston Moore’s Ecstatic Peace! imprint hit American streets. Pearl is polite, but a young woman of few words. Or maybe I’m just boring.

“It’s no big deal,” she replies when asked if she’s seen the album on record-store shelves yet. “We were just down in Columbus, and a couple of stores had it out already. It was more exciting when it first came out in the U.K.,” she says nonchalantly — “but yeah, I’m excited that it’s out in America now too. It’s pretty cool.”

A far cry from the in-your-face exhibitionist that screams dogmatic teen slogans all over BYOP’s recordings (e.g., “I’m an independent motherfucker/And I’m here to take your money/I’m wicked rad/And I’m here to steal away your virginity” — “Bunk Trunk Skunk”) and whips audiences to hysteria at their notoriously short live shows. But she knows better. The members of BYOP were born into musical legacies. Pearl started singing in a church choir; her father is musician/artist Jimmy Abegg, while drummer Jamin’s father is noted songwriter Robert Ellis Orrall. These youngsters are wise in the ways of the industry, even one that’s heaped such hype on them it would be easy to crack (from profiles in Rolling Stone to a gushing review on Pitchfork).

Asked about her switch from the hymns to devil’s music, Pearl sneers, “Well, I’m not a Christian and don’t go to church, so it wouldn’t make sense for me to sing in a choir.” She adds, endearingly, “You don’t have to actually be good at singing to be in a rock band, you know?” But she can sing: Pearl’s clear vibrato and melodic fluency evoke a more operatic Debbie Harry.

“I love this band,” raves L.A. hipster guru Steve Aoki, an early BYOP fan. “Even at Coachella (this year), they only played a 15-minute set, sprayed shaving cream all over the place and jumped in the crowd. And it was just over. Awesome!”

“People don’t know us as well as they do overseas, so the shows aren’t, like, insane crazy,” Pearl surmises of their current American trek. “But having to win people over is part of the fun. We’re having a good time, and that’s all that really matters.”

You could say the medium is the message for these kids. Asked about the band’s manifesto, Pearl admits, “We’re not trying to put too much across. We’re just happy to be in a band, trying to have fun with it.” In other words, as young as BYOP may be, they’re aware of just how brilliant, beautiful and brief that time can be, and have chosen to honor it with loud, fast and vicious teen anthems. Sure beats the hell out of high school.

“We’ve gotten so many opportunities. So many bands don’t get the chance [to make records], which is unfortunate. But we’ve gotten that chance, so we’re trying to enjoy it.” She pauses, then adds, “Mostly, we’re just trying to find a way to buy beer.”

(Originally published in the LA Weekly, June 2006)