Pitchfork Vs. Pelican

I bought "Australasia", Pelican's first full length, on a visit to Boise to see my brother. I spent the rest of the afternoon aimlessly driving around Idaho roads, blasting the CD in his '82 Cherokee. It was fitting: arid and dry, like the Idaho hills, punctuated by inviting vistas of deep, deep lakes. In this case, these were lakes of GUITAR, dude (queue the devil's horns). Not mind-blowing, but definitely the kind of post-rock I can groove on. A few weeks later I saw them play at the Knitting Factory, on the wings of their second album and in the throes of "buzz-worthiness". So the place was filled with geeks, crowded and shitty. The band played well, but the sea of Nigel hipsters was over-whelming.

Speaking of Nigel hipsters, Pelican just released a new album called "City of Echoes". You can stream it, in its entirety, on their website. Whether you or I like it or not, the folks over at Pitchfork, arguably the most influential music website on the internet today, and the guys who coined the term "nigel hipster" (referring to the character from "Spinal Tap", and any hipster who has an ironic love for Slayer and black metal.), gave the new album a rating of 4.4. A 4.4!!! This band is going to summer school! This band is getting evaluated for an IEP! (IEP= short bus). But it's not the 4.4 that bothers me; I never agree with any of their ratings. What bothers me is that they gave it a 4.4 because of the fucking drummer!

I'm a class A dork. I usually read a lot of reviews before I purchase an album, buy a book or see a movie. But I've never read a review of a band before that lashed out so viciously at one person in the band. That's it, the review begins. Fire the drummer. The reviewer then spends five more paragraphs specifically skewering the drummer. It's vicious and it sucks.

The reason it sucks is because, first of all, the guy isn't a bad drummer. He's not a great one in a genre that is prototypically heavy in the awesome drummer department, but he does his job. But the other reason is because this isn't Brad Pitt or George Clooney. This isn't Bono or Mick Jagger. This is a kid from Chicago making rock and roll and, most likely, working a shitty job to pay the bills to support himself between tours. As important as Pitchfork is, I'm sure the band is cognizant of the reviews being written about "City of Echoes". It seems unfair that a website that sings the praise of non-musicians such as Peter Bjorn and John or Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, would lash out so nastily at the musicianship of a drummer. And dis the entire album because of it.

I was a musician who played in bands that nobody liked. I could accept the fact that my bands, in most cases, were perenially opening up for more popular bands on the weekends because we couldn't draw enough people to justify our own show. It didn't matter to me that someone didn't like our music, because I liked it. So a bad review or a remark along the lines of "You can't dance to it" wouldn't bother me. But I always had the respect of my fellow musicians for my talents as a singer and a guitar player, and I was thankful for that. It kept me going. An attack on my abilities as a musician would have had me chasing someone down Colley Avenue, wielding my guitar like an axe.

As bloated and self-righteous as Pitchfork can be, they are pretty thorough in their reviews and I've found some good stuff because of them (Amon Tobin, DJ Shadow). But with this review, I feel they've hit a new low. Directing a critique at the dubious skills of the drummer is a blow to the balls. I hope "City of Echoes" sells hundreds of thousands and the drummer inspires millions of teenagers to slip in and out of the beat.

Loney, Dear @ Union Hall, Brooklyn, NY 06/10/07

Plot Synopsis: Loney, Dear is the one-man band of Emil Svanängen from Sweden. He recorded several albums in the basement of his mother's house, pressing the recordings on to CD-R and selling a few thousand by word of mouth. Sub Pop recently signed him and his last two records- "Sologne" and "Loney,Noir"- were released by the Seattle label. His music is pure, unadulterated Swedish pop music, both joyous and morose.

My Two Cents: The performance space at Union Hall is in the basement, which seems apt for a guy who recorded most of music in a place very similar. It is small and intimate, maybe holding a hundred people. One thing about shows in New York City- and I don't ever see this elsewhere- is this flippant attitude that some of the fans have. I don't know if this is because they are jaded by the sheer volume of performers that pass through, or if their free tickets render them cool, yet uninterested. Regardless, some of the worst concert-going experiences I have ever had have been in this great city. This is not the fault of the bands. It's the inexplicable fault of the fans who will dish out fourty something bucks to see, say, Wilco, and talk, at full volume, the entire show. This doesn't matter if it's Wilco's brand of lazy southern rock or a Norwegian black metal show. It always happens.

It is a testament to the crowd at Union Hall Sunday night, that when Emil entered the stage with his acoustic guitar and asked the crowd to hum a one-note sustained "HMMMMMM" as he gently finger-strummed some open chords, the couple from Virginia next to my wife and I, were quickly shushed. I know they were from Virginia because they were trying to talk over the music. LEAVE, already! GO UPSTAIRS TO THE BAR! This will never, ever make sense to me. But forget all that: by the second song, Loney,Dear had everyone in that place enraptured.

His band- a female backup singer, a keyboardist, drummer and bass player- all hailed from Sweden and were playing their last show in the U.S. before heading back. They had been touring extensively for the past three months and this experience showed in spades. The band didn't miss a beat. The songs are simple and build around Loney, Dear's vocals, often building up and swirling around the melodies into something explosive and beautiful. On the flip side, Emil can often stun with his falsetto, ending the show with just his guitar and voice, stepping away from the microphone even. After the second encore, the backup singer was teary-eyed. It was their last show in the U.S. after all. Emil's mother- he mentioned this mid-set- was going to pick him up at the airport the next day.

I see a lot of bands. Very few leave me with any emotional impact, especially now that I am old and curmudgeonly. But Loney, Dear showed that some talent just deserves to be heard. Go to his MySpace page NOW and listen to these songs, before he blows up.

My Grade: A