Los Campesinos!--The Black Cat, Washington, DC

Of all the multi-sex Welsh septets that I listen to, Los Campesinos! is probably my favorite. They’re young, brash, and bratty. They (Aleksandra, Ellen, Gareth, Harriet, Neil, Ollie, and Tom) have all adopted the last name “Campesinos!”. They have a penchant for putrid album art. And, their debut LP Hold On Now, Youngster…is damn good.

Even though the album sounds great, Los Campesinos! had me thinking they could just be a big, convoluted mess in a live setting, and this curiosity drove me to the Black Cat this past weekend to see what they were made of. I arrived a bit late so I missed first opening act Pash. I was kind of bummed because they’re local to DC and I like to become acquainted with all the neighbors. But if they’re not going to put forth a serious effort to name their band, I can hardly be expected of putting forth the effort to arrive at the venue before 10.

Next up was another local act, the Aquarium from Arlington. They’re a girl/guy duo signed to Dischord. Think of a trippy 70’s rock version of Matt & Kim only with better drumming and without the charm. During their set I went up to the bar to grab a drink, and while I was waiting, some kid who didn’t look much older than my shoe size asked me if I would buy him a beer. Hold on now, youngster. I did not buy him a beer. But this was the youngest crowd I have seen at a concert in a long, long time…maybe since the legendary Fig Dish show at the Madison in Peoria in 1995…when I was one of them. Ah, the good old days. A lot of people my age complain about all-ages show, but not me. The kids are alright. And they need their rock music as much as anyone.

Los Campesinos!—and that’s the last time I’m typing that inessential exclamation point—invaded the stage just before 11:30. The drummer in a true punk rock fashion immediately took off his shirt and took a seat. I don’t know for sure, but I doubt he would score very high on this test. A simultaneous shout of “One TWO three FOUR, one TWO three FOUR, one TWO three FOUR, one TWO three FOUR!” obnoxiously proclaimed the set was beginning with frantic dance number “Broken Heartbeats Sound Like Breakbeats.” Good call. They followed that up with “Don’t Tell Me to do the Math(s)” which was perfect for all the 16 year-olds jacked up on Coke without any rum. Despite a scant few limitations, a sometimes lack of heterogeneous music being one, Los Campesinos can get a crowd (myself included) to buy what they’re selling almost immediately. They combine the schoolboy fun of Art Brut with a sloppy garage sound of the Strokes and it works. More importantly, even with the stage at near capacity, no one seemed inconsequential. The guy from Maroon 5 on guitar is good. Lead singer Gareth is a fantastic frontman. Why, even Harriet on the violin seemed to be serving a discernible purpose!

(Thinking of Gareth, reminds me of something. Halfway through the show I realized he was wearing a Times New Viking t-shirt. This Times New Viking stuff…this is an elaborate hoax, right? No one actually enjoys listening to these unlistenable clowns of rock-bottom-fi, do they? If you claim that you do, this is what I’m going to need:

1. A statement of 75 words or less explaining why you like Times New Viking.

2. Two signed affidavits from people who have witnessed you listening to (and enjoying) their album.

These can be emailed to NQL at quitelike.nothing@gmail.com. Thank you.)

Gareth really is greath (anagram!), though. His style is rather preening and confrontational, but it’s much more fun than dumb. However, the true luminary of Los Campesinos is keyboardist Aleksandra, who shares vocal duties with Gareth. Whenever they were on stage and started to get a bit too sloppy, she was dependably there with melodic vocals that often times cleaned up any mess that was about to happen on stage.

Momentum and excitement levels climaxed when they played album favorite “You! Me! Dancing!”. I was shocked they didn’t open or close with this song, but who cares! That song is going to be the cause of impromptu dance parties all over the lower 48 at countless music festivals this summer. Other songs that stuck out included Pavement cover “Frontwards” and “Death to Los Campesinos!”. They played a majority of their album and their excellent EP, Sticking Fingers Into Sockets, and, after a quick encore, the evening wrapped up with not much more than an hour gone. Why only an hour, you ask? Because they only have about an hour worth of material to choose from and the kids in the crowd need to go home and get to bed. But that’s a good band, right there. I had a great time. And, they left me plenty of time to wander over to the belly of the beast of Adams Morgan on 18th and hit up one of those pizza-by-the-slice places. That is, if you can call that pizza. I found the only way to handle such thin and sloppy pizza was to roll it into a ball and eat it like an apple. And then it was delicious. There's a metaphor in there somewhere; albeit a very bad one.

--Alex

Destroyer--The Black Cat, Washington, DC

Never bereft of a muse, Dan Bejar, and his band Destroyer were in town this past weekend. As I headed over to the Black Cat I saw dueling cyclones jackknifing in the street. Talk about a coincidence. A few people I know who used to live in DC have asked if I've had any run-ins with a somewhat legendary vagrant, who used to spend his days in front of the venue shouting, "Black Cat, Black Cat, Black Cat, little change for the homeless?, Black Cat." In my two visits I have yet to see this guy. Sadly, he may have passed.

I have to say, the staff that mans the door at the Black Cat are extremely nice and accommodating. What a nice change of pace from those quasi-Outfit hoodlums that check IDs at the Metro.

Canadian musician Andre Ethier was opening the show. I clarify "musician" because there is an outfielder for the Los Angeles Dodgers that shares the same name. Ethier was the lead singer for the Canadian indie band the Deadly Snakes but also has a couple solo albums under his belt. He was okay. He played very vocal-heavy folk songs that seemed pretty appropriate for a Destroyer-opener. I didn't pay as much attention to him as I should have; I spent most of the time by the right-side bar having drinks and conversation. Over the course of his set, I heard people compare him both glowingly and despairingly to Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Bill Callahan, and even Pete Yorn. He reminded me of Raul Mondesi.

(While this Andre Ethier was trying to keep everyone's attention, the other Andre Ethier was going 1-4, with an RBI and walk, in the Dodgers' 8-7 win over the Colorado Rockies. Not too shabby. However, he did leave four people on base. Thought you'd want to know.)

Everyone always wants to compare to Dan Bejar to some iconic performer of years past. So without further ado: Dan Bejar...he's almost a modern day Lou Reed, with a little bit of Bowie and Bozo the Clown mixed in. Like others, I was a bit late to the party and began to see the Destroyer light not long after Destroyer's Rubies came out in early 2006. I saw a few pictures from his Chicago performance at Logan Square Auditorium last week and he really reigned in the hair for the DC crowd. He was also wearing a flannel shirt that I used to own during my high school days when I was rather superunknown. The band opened with "Rubies" from the aforementioned 2006 release which was great, but sadly, shut the door on Rubies for the evening. The band mostly focused on their latest album Trouble in Dreams. Little known fact about Trouble in Dreams, I was supposed to review it last month for this site. And I was all set to give it a "Good" rating but when it came down to transcribing that to an actual review, I was completely dumbstruck. How does anyone review a Destroyer record? The lyrics (and music) are completely undecipherable. Juxtapose that with Bejar's distinctive voice and you're usually left with something organic and completely unclassifiable--which is why I think I love Destroyer in the first place. (I actually did turn in a final review of the album and I simply stated that I thought it was good and then just proceeded to list a bunch of things in my apartment. Needless to say, the review was never posted.)

First up off the new album was "Dark Leaves Form a Thread" which is most notable for a funky piano solo that's straight from an old Peanuts cartoon. Next came "Rivers" which might be my favorite track on Trouble in Dreams. Right before I moved to DC, we had a bit of a going away get-together for my last weekend in Chicago. My only caveat for the party was that I got to make the playlist (good news for me, trouble for everyone else.) After some blood, sweat, and tears I finally had the perfect playlist...it came in at 17.5 hours. Convinced that was excessive, I decided to cut it back the best I could and leave only the essentials. I eventually whittled it down to 16.8 hours of carefully selected tunes. That was the final cut, nothing else could possible be eliminated. So why am I telling you this? Because "Rivers" was the very last song to get the axe. This was not an easy decision. After seeing Destroyer play it live (they absolutely shredded it), I really wish I had left it on there. The lyrics could have served for a great conversation piece. (Even without "Rivers" the playlist was incredible. People in Chicago are still talking about it.)

Destroyer ended up playing nearly 75% of the new album, although to my recollection, they inexplicably did not play "Blue Flower/Blue Flame". Scattered into the set was a song about peacocks, a few "la, la, la's", plenty of "na na na na na's" and even a couple "la la la-la-la's". There were also some snaps, claps, whistles, and rattles thrown in for good measure. They bid farewell to the 3/4 filled Black Cat with "Hey, Snow White" from This Night. If anything was disappointing, it was that they only played for about an hour and 20 minutes. For someone with such a large catalog, you would think they could have squeezed out a few more songs. Dan probably wanted to finish up early so he could go backstage and pen an album. That's not to say anything about the night was a letdown. Bejar was fantastic, the band was fantastic, and I was left with a fantastic feeling of wanting more.

Off subject, but the very next day I finally ventured out to find a record store. Up the beaten path on 18th Street is a fantastic place called Crooked Beat Records. Any respectable DC denizen probably already knows this establishment but I wanted to aptly stress my satisfaction. They have a great selection of CD's and vinyl. They really support the local bands, as they're all lumped together in their own "DC" section. The two guys that happened to be working were extremely nice and helpful. When I told one of them I recently moved from Chicago, he mentioned that Chicago and San Francisco are the two places that still really support independent record stores in the digital torrent age. First off, this made me proud of Chicago. Second of all, I was reminded of the slow extinction of independent record stores. I am no martyr...I have burned, ripped, and downloaded my fair share of music. But I also do my best to fight the good fight and trek over to the mom and pops to purchase music on a more than frequent basis. I know a lot of people listening to "indie" music are young and can't afford to buy every single album that is constantly being shoved down their throats by the respective peddlers. I understand and respect that. I've been there. Wait, I am there. And I do think it's better to download or burn an album without paying than to not listen at all. I truly believe that. But if I really love an album, having its contents on my computer alone doesn't provide me with the intimate connection that everyone has with their favorite records. I need something tangible and fixed, and I prefer to have it in the manner intended by the artist. I bristle at the thought of our generation growing old and passing off their music collection to their offspring by handing down their hard drive. So if time and finances are remotely plentiful, head over to Crooked Beat or Reckless or Groovin' High or whatever neighborhood store is nearby and explore some music. If you haven't already, perhaps give Rubies a try, maybe even catch a Destroyer concert, and hold your head high as you tell all your friends you think Dan Bejar is our generation's Bob Dylan.

--Alex

Les Savy Fav--The Black Cat, Washington, DC

Walking solo to a club to check out a band I think is the mark of official citizenry, so one and half weeks into my DC tenure I finally feel like a resident. Red Carino's Spaghetti Slingers' shirt in tow, my immigration took me over to the Black Cat to check out Les Savy Fav. The Black Cat is an almost straight shot up 14th Street from where I live so it was a quick 15 minute walk. (To give you a bit of a visual of my new neighborhood, there is a Whole Foods on nearby P Street. I've noticed west of the Whole Foods are upscale restaurants and bars. On the east side there, uhhh, aren't. I, of course, live on the east side of the great gentrifier.) The Black Cat opened in 1993 and Dave Grohl is one of the founders. They have coat check, although I didn't get a price. And that's mostly because I was scared away by the woman behind the counter who didn't like my needling questions since I didn't even have a coat. (It was over 60 degrees.) Attached to the venue is the Red Room which has a cafe that serves primarily vegetarian food. Oh, brother. I'm not in Chicago anymore. I can hear the 3lb. meatloaf at Schubas' Harmony Grill laughing at me.

Awesome show! I'm a bit drunk! Who's up for a carrot?!

Inside the venue is rather awesome. It's dark and mangy and reminds me a lot of the Double Door. And there are two long bars that line each side of the club. I grabbed a seat along the bar on the right side and was pretty close to the stage to check out the Dodos of San Francisco who were the first opening act. I just heard of these guys pretty recently but I was very impressed. I wish I knew the name of their songs because whatever tune they opened with was fantastic. They're a duo (although every once in awhile some third dude would jump on stage and play something) and they play pretty long-winded, psychedelic pop songs. But it's really good. And by really good, I mean today I considered walking around to find a record store to pick up their album Visiter. (Is there a good record store near Logan Circle? Someone help me out here.) I think these guys are going to be big soon. Or maybe they already are big. Who the hell even knows anymore.

Being a bartender at the Black Cat would be a pretty great job if you like live music. They're pretty close to the stage instead of being shoved in the back like at most music venues. In fact, we were so close I needed some earplugs. I ordered a Budweiser ($4 in a bottle) and asked about earplugs. The bartender directed me to go downstairs to some old machine that he said only took quarters. Hey, this sounds interesting, follow me!

On the way downstairs I was checking out the crowd and it was about 80% male and 20% was of the caliber that nearly made me wish it was 100% male. Yeah, not good. Memo to cute girls in DC (if you even exist): You're allowed to like rock music. And you're allowed to go to rock shows. Keep that in mind.

I found the earplug machine downstairs and it was one of those old school candy machines that takes a quarter, requires a turn of the knob, and a prize comes out of some rusty slide. It was next to some rip off Runts and Spree machines. I thought this was great except the machine didn't work. It would not take my quarters, but what it would do is make me look like a complete jackass while I tried to play with it for 15 minutes. I finally conceeded and bought some of the rip off Runts and luckily got two bananas that I could stick in my ears. (If anyone else had this problem, and you're experiencing any sort of tinnitus, please contact me. I'm thinking of some sort of class action lawsuit against the Black Cat.) I went upstairs to the bar on the opposite side and the woman behind the bar was nice enough to hook me up with some ear plugs. However, now the place was packed and I was pushed so far back from the stage I didn't even need them anymore. I love irony even when it screws me.

The Big Sleep (also of French Kiss Records, just like the Dodos and Les Savy Fav) of Brooklyn were up next. I loved that movie when I saw it 8 years ago in film as art class so I was expecting big things. They're a long-haired trio that employs a very classic rock/dream pop sound with big guitars and very few vocals. Either James Iha or a girl was handling bass duties...I'm pretty sure it was the latter, but remember, I was pretty far away at this point and in no position to make the call. (In fact, a google image search demonstrates that she doesn't even remotely look like James Iha. Apologies to both...I really need to start getting closer to the stage.) It's safe to say that I really like this band in the same way that I like a band like Black Mountain. More intelligent and bearable than just some bland stoner rock, their songs keep your attention even when in the midst of a repeated chorus or long guitar solo. Give their track "Pinkies" a listen to see what I mean. Why don't we go ahead and chisel in the faces of Danny Barria, Sonya Balchandani, and Gabe Rhodes alongside Raymond Chandler and Humphrey Bogart in the Mount Rushmore of big sleepers.

For those that read our 2007 year in review (and most of you did, as it won several Pulitzers) you may remember Les Savy Fav's latest record Let's Stay Friends popping up frequently in our contributors' top records of the year. It was more than well deserved as I have yet to grow tired of it. But more importantly, I had yet to see these guys live and that's the whole point of Les Savy Fav, isn't it? That's what I've always heard. I also knew hanging out in a section of the Black Cat that allowed me to confuse an earlier performer with an early 90s alt-rock hero of a different sex was unacceptable. Time to move to the front. This was much easier than I thought it would be. I made my way down the right side of the room and found a place right by the stage (and right by the stage-right speakers...the once unneeded courtesy earplugs turned out to be a huge score. Thank you Black Cat staff, I will call off the class-action suit.)

Before I knew the band was even on stage I heard some odd, slightly incoherent yammering coming from the speakers. There I saw incomparable lead singer Tim Harrington sitting on the stage droning into the microphone about space ships, presidential assassinations, the Shirt Tales, and god knows what else. Before I knew it the rest of the band was on stage and they thrashed into "The Equestrian" from the aforementioned Let's Stay Friends. If that song is not your idea of a good time please kindly leave this site and don't return. And, yes, the rumors are true...Harrington is an absolute maniac! He was all over the place, running around in the crowd, screaming into the microphone, etc. I can tell this already good night is going to morph into a fantastic one. And I would be remiss to not mention Harrington's legendary attire which at first featured jeans and a very innocuous sweater but was converted into a shirt-bra within 30 seconds. (I just, to no avail, scoured through countless images of women in bras looking for a good shirt-bra picture to help out with the visual. I will look again for another couples of hours, but you all know what I mean by shirt-bra, right?) For a majority of the show the top-heavy lead singer was running around without a shirt on. It reminded me of that classic SNL skit with Chris Farley and Patrick Swayze trying out for Chippendales...with Harrington obviously playing the part of Farley. And I am right now picturing a great re-enactment of this skit. We already found the part of Farley. How about Kevin Barnes for the Swayze role? Perfect! Hey PitchforkTV, give me a call...we'll make this happen!

Latest album favorite "Patty Lee" (here is a pretty good video that captures both the song and Harrington in all his glory) was hit up next, followed by "What Would Wolves Do?" The band then settled into a lot of oldies but goodies from Inches and Go Forth. Each song was usually proceeded by an often hilarious apocalyptic monologue by Harrington. His other antics continued and the band was with him every step of the way. Harrison Haynes' drumming was the show I expected it to be, and bassist Syd Butler seemed to bring some sanity to the evening when he would speak into the microphone and actually make sense. If my memory isn't betraying me, I recall especially enjoying "Reprobate's Resume" and "Raging in the Plague Age" which were played towards the end of the evening. The Black Cat crowd was great, too. I was left with the sense that most in attendance have been with the band going back to the 3/5 days. Everyone did a good job of reciprocating the overflowing energy that was emanating from the stage. And to help Harrington with his constant wardrobe changes, people were more than willing to offer up a hat, flip-flop, and even a pair of glasses.

I don't really remember any of the encores just that they were loud (I was still standing right by the speaker) and abrasive. When they finally left the stage, I gathered up my equilibrium from the floor and headed downstairs to the Red Room for some drinks. Let me just say this about the Black Cat...it's an incredible venue and I really look forward to returning. I have a date with the 9:30 Club very soon so I'll be able to compare and contrast what seem to be the two big spots in town, but so far, DC is off to a good start.

If any of you wonder what it's like going to shows by yourself (in Chicago I lived near plenty of venues that fed my appetite so I'm an old hand at this) it's not as bad as you would think. Sometimes I would get bored and leave early if the band on stage wasn't keeping my attention. But most times I would get adopted by another group of people or find someone to chat up. And by the time I left Chicago, if I was at a show and wasn't in the company of friends I would typically see familiar faces, be it other concert goers or venue staff, that I never even thought twice about it. I have forgotten more of the shows than I vividly remember, but I do know that some of the best nights of my life have been spent at some dark and sweaty rock club with some band on stage that would usually only register with 1% of the general population. That's family, that's camaraderie, that's everything. I feel like I'm starting over now in DC but I think that can be a good thing. So let me end with a quick message to the District: I am here, this is going to be fun, let us do this.

--Alex