Interview//Setlist: Matt Pond, Charleston, SC

Fortunate to have spoken with Matt Pond recently about his new album, the authors that he reads, and how his music relates to his perception. Read the interview at Stereo Subversion, here.

(Matt Pond, The Lives Inside the Lines In Your Hand, 2013)

Matt Pond's new record, The Lives Inside the Lines In Your Hands is out today and is excellent. He played a great set with a full band last Friday, February 1 at The Tin Roof in Charleston, SC. Here's the setlist:

Matt Pond, February 1, 2013: The Tin Roof, Charleston, SC
-From Debris
-Starting
-So Much Trouble
-Let Me Live
-Brooklyn Stars
-Starlet
-Love to Get Used
-KC
-Go Where the Leaves Go
-Closest (Look Out)
-New Hampshire
-Specks
-Halloween
Encore:
-Wild Girl
-Fairlee

Live Review: Jeff Mangum, Charleston Music Hall

If you had no context, no knowledge of the past 15 years of popular music, and you wandered in seemingly unaware of who Jeff Mangum was and why so many people were packed into a concert hall to hear his simple, ethereal songs, then you might not understand. 

But, then again, maybe you would. Maybe Mangum could help you to understand. 

Jeff Mangum is his own gravitational force, both in mythos and in reality. Have any of us ever gotten tired of seeing that lilting cover of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea? Do we get bored when listening to "King of Carrot Flowers" for the 1000th time? Do we still weep when Mangum sings, "how strange it is to be anything at all"? Can Mangum be the man behind this opus? 

Wandering onstage while the house lights were still up, my brother-in-law turned to me and said, "Is that him?" I wasn't a question; more of a proclamation. That was him. He really was here. He was about to play all of our favorite songs. The mere sight of a long-haired, chin-bearded Mangum made the audience rise to their feet; some younger college-goers bowed in a "We are not worthy!" manner. Women and men screamed, "I love you!" Half the crowd could have left after just seeing him come onstage. 

Mangum took his time getting warmed up, dipping his toes in with the deep end with the 8 minute, "Oh Comely," moving   lithely on  to "Two-Headed Boy," then "Song Against Sex" and "Gardenhead/Leave Me Alone," before finally indulging us to sing-along with him on "King of Carrot Flowers." The sold out theatre dipped and hummed trying to keep up with his vocal responses--it felt spiritual, communal, cathartic. Everything felt ok. A longing we kept with us had just been cured, and as long as we got to sing along a little more and maybe hear, "Holland, 1945" and "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea," then we could all get up and make it through the next day. We sang along with Mangum to both songs. People danced, literally, in the aisles. Some wept. Not openly, but quietly, tears gathering at the corner of their eyes.

It was quick evening. Openers The Tall Firs (lovely fellows, by the way) were on by 8:12PM, off by 8:40, Mangum strolled out a little after nine, and we were home by 10:47. But it was all we needed; all we could have asked for. No new material (of course) just Mangum covering most of On Avery Island--including one of my favorites, "Naomi"--and Aeroplane. I heard the usual chatter as we exited: "That was the greatest show I've ever seen," "I'll never be able to see another show in my life," "I can die happily now." Hyperbole, all; but that's what Mangum inspires. And in an era where irony is still very much passed off as credible currency, the evening felt like something genuine.  A small fraction of like-mindedness and unparalleled joy. 

Song Obsession :: Company of Thieves, "Oscar Wilde"

I'm finding my self gravitating more and more to single tracks than entire albums. I think it may be a product of summer or my desire to make mixtapes. Here's a song I've been hitting "Repeat" on for a few weeks. The album is only so-so, but I love this track unabashedly.

Oscar Wilde - Company of Thieves

And the video is pretty great, too. Gotta love a Rushmore reference...



I found out at the last minute that these guys and girl were playing Friday night down the street from me. At the most divey-dive sports bar I've ever been to. The kind where the whores, uh, I mean, servers wear skimpy sports outfits that show the cellulite and bullet holes in their thighs. To the band, I would just like to say, I apologize for that place and I apologize that we could not find another suitable venue for you to perform at. On behalf of Charleston and West Ashley, I am sorry. I doubt you will return, but if you do, I will personally take you all out for steak dinner and wine.

Record Store Week, Day 5: 52.5 Records (Fifty-Two Point Five Records), Charleston, SC

If you're just tuning in, all this week at SIO, I'm profiling some independent record stores that have had an impact on my brief tenure on this bright blue marble. I am NOT ranking these record stores, merely providing anecdotes and/or vignettes of what these specific records stores mean in the context of a decade-plus of throwing money at patchouli-smelling, cooler-than-you hipster types.

I was apprehensive about moving to The Coast of South Carolina. There are about 10,000 reasons to live in ridiculously-hot Charleston; the ocean is a mere 20-30 minutes away from wherever you are, there's more American history and culture in the city than in most Western states, and the scenery is stunning--not everyone crosses two major rivers on their way to work every morning. Still, despite these obvious benefits, I was irrationally apprehensive.

Edisto Island was always a vacation destination for my wife and I. We would venture down to the secluded island with her family for a four to five days every year. Inevitably we would encounter one day where restlessness would set in; rain would appear or sunburn would prohibit another walk to the beach. These days we would venture into downtown Charleston for shopping and sight-seeing. I'm not one for shopping, so I always try to locate a bookstore or record store and spend hours on end in its loving arms.

We had the misfortune of being scheduled to go to Edisto the week of September 11, 2001. On September 11 my wife and I travelled somewhat reluctantly and sullenly down to the island from the Upstate. We were both unsteady, scared, and felt a little guilty for trying to enjoy a vacation in the wake of a national tragedy. That vacation sucked, anyway. Folks were glued to the TV in anger, frustration, and awkwardness, the weather was cloudy and rainy (except for the day we left), and internal political tensions were high. In a last-ditch effort to salvage some semblance of a good time, a few of us travelled downtown to Charleston for our requistite shopping excursion. I quickly located a record store by asking a few folks on the street and secluded myself in the small brick enclave that was 52.5 Records.

52.5 is no longer at the same spot that it was at in 2001. It's got some swanky new digs up the street about five or six blocks. (That seems to be a recurring theme with record stores this week, no?) In additiona to tons of vinyl, they've got a damn good DVD selection and magazine/zine selection. And they actually rent DVDs and offer a lending library for community donated books. They also are combining two of my favorite pasttimes into one stop: beer and records. That's the kind of progressive thinking I want in my record store.

But back to that rainy, bleak day in September. I only bought one item in the two and a half hours I perused the bins at 52.5, but it was a solid purchase: Charles Mingus, Mingus Ah Um. It's a pinnacle in the realm of jazz and in many ways it opened the door to my jazz-listening experiences. It stayed with me all that week and felt like a cool balm on a deep burn and that's mostly how jazz feels to me now. It's also one of the reasons I have such great memories of going to record stores and perusing the shelves; when you find that perfect album, it can alter your mood, perception, your day, your week, or even your life. That sound corny, I know. But I love that feeling and I get it everytime I visit an independent record store.

Have fun out at Record Store Day tomorrow! Support the day with a big purchase. There's gonna be tons of awesome, limited stuff for sale. I'll be down at 52.5 in the morning and then will make my way to Monster Music after that. Thanks for reading this week.

Beer + Records = Genius

Holy crap. Why has someone not thought of this idea before? I've seen bars in record stores, but 52.5 (aka the coolest record store in Charleston) is selling mixed 6 packs of specialty beers. They're featuring a new one every couple of weeks.

So, let me get this straight; I can go buy some used vinyl, the latest Bonnie "Prince" Billy release, and get this beer all at the same time? Genius. Read more here.

Oh, and a happy belated 12th birthday to the peeps at 52.5. Apparently local celebrity Ben Bridwell of some band you may have heard of called Band of Horses, is a supporter of the store, too.

Live Review: Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, North Charleston Performing Arts Center, March 11, 2009

I don't go to many shows at venues that hold more than 500 people. So I already felt out of place at the North Charleston Performing Arts Center the night Ryan Adams and the Cardinals were set to play. The lobby at the 1000+ seat venue was overloaded with trampy sorority girls, bearded folkies, and more than four pregnant women in Ugg boots (?); all were sipping wine and mixed drinks that they paid WAY too much for. (Two Guinness for me and my friend ran a total of $15--you do the math.)

Like everyone else, we heard a rumor that the night before Mr. Adams wed his one-time teenage pop star fiance', Mandy Moore, but I didn't believe it until the woman beside me pulled up the story on MTV.com on her Blackberry. And I don't believe anything until MTV.com confirms it to be true. Taking the stage at 8:45 to shouts of "Congratulations!" and "Where's Mandy?" the band seemed relaxed and official sounding. The guitars were tuned and ringing, and the floor tom had enough bass to it to shake a ribcage loose from it's skin.

Adams stuck to his livelier, more focused albums for the set: Cold Roses, Easy Tiger, and Cardinology, with the occasional tune from Heartbreaker and the Love is Hell series. In one sense it was the most predictable set of songs one could imagine, but with an artist like Adams, sometimes predictability is exactly what you want. After a number of songs, though, Adams announced there were some problems with the in-ear monitors (apparently they were picking up a radio station) and took a short ten minute intermission before returning--only to discover that the problem had not gone away. But Adams promised to "persevere and make this awesome." I took him at his word, even when some of the rhythmic noodle-jams between him and guitarist Neal Casal went on way too long with no direction.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who seemed bored because Adams signaled out a woman about three rows back in a red dress who was less than enthusiastic about the band's show. "We've been rockin' so hard for you!" he pleaded. "And we're sorry we suck so bad." He then proceeded to serenade her with an impromptu song called, "We Suck." If it wasn't the highlight of the night, it was definitely a rare show of humor from an otherwise humorless, unstable artist.

The show crested after that; now we got more guitar noodling, and some safe songs. And I was just getting settled in when Adams announced that the next song was about "Satan and fucking." A thumping version of "Magick" was followed by the end of the show. "Thanks you guys for coming out," and the house lights went up.

I checked my watch: 10:20. Disbelief all around. Surely an encore? Nope. They're taking equipment down onstage. "That's it," my friend said. We headed for the car and listen to folks outside who were visibly seething at the lack of an encore. And I felt the same way; a piano went untouched onstage, almost no songs from Gold, and we got three Neal Casal songs. "I didn't pay to see a Neal Casal show," my friend said, and he dropped me off at home and decided to head to The Pour House to catch Lucero. He'd never seen them before and I tell him that, even if they play the worst show of their life, it's probably still better than the Ryan Adams show we saw.

The Setlist, as I heard it:
Beautiful Sorta
Born Into the Light
Cold Roses
Come Pick Me Up
Everybody Knows
Wonderwall
Neal Casal sings song #1
(brief intermission with house lights while in-ear monitors are fixed)
Fix It
Why Do They Leave?
Neal Casal sings song #2
Goodnight Rose
Shakedown On 9th St
We Suck (impromptu song)
Let It Ride
I See Monsters
Neal Casal sings song #3
Broadway
Mockingbird
Magick

Funniest, yet saddest, conversation overheard at the show:
"Dude, how about him playing Oasis? That was cool, right?"
"Yeah...are you sure that's an Oasis song? You sure it's not one his songs?"
(*note to reader, these two gentlemen were approximately my age, 28-32)
"I don't know man, it could be..."
"I'm pretty sure it is. It's on one of his albums."
"What...you think Oasis covered his song?"
"Yeah, probably. I mean he wrote that song 'Stars Go Blue'..."
"So you think he licensed his song to Oasis?"
"Yeah, definitely."
"That's awesome."

The local paper, Charleston City Paper, has a review that is a little less flattering in it's sentiment and also contains some incorrect information. Read it here.

And here's some shitty cell-phone pics of the stage:




Good luck with the writing career, Mr. Adams. I mean that sincerely.

Live Review :: Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band, North Charleston Coliseum, Charelston, SC

We were told by the North Charleston Coliseum agents and the papers that this was the first time in 30 years Springsteen and the E Street Band had played in Charleston. I suppose I could confirm this with a quick Google search, but I'd rather not. I'd rather just believe what I'm told in this particular instance because there was at least 30 years worth of anticipation ripping through the sold-out crowd Saturday night. And nothing about the night was disappointing. (Well, almost nothing...but I'll get to that in a second.)

The E Street Band jumped onstage at around 8:10PM in the dark and, after all the players had taken their places, a spotlight came down on Springsteen with his larger-than-life companion, Clarence Thomas. (Springsteen announced him as, "the biggest man you've ever seen" during encore introductions.) "We thought we'd start tonight with some beach music," he said at the mic, Telecaster firmly in place. And they proceeded to tear through a version of "Double Shot of My Baby's Love" by The (original) Swingin' Medallions. After that, they rarely came up for air. They played for three hours and fifteen minutes, but we could have easily stayed for three hours more. "You can't take no more!" Springsteen taunted the crowd after a second encore. But we could. And we did. The band came back to play a ten minute version of "Twist and Shout" before leaving for good a 11:20.

Let me just say that every band in America can take lessons from Springsteen and the E Street Band. And I mean every band. Radiohead have nothing to show against them, Coldplay are minuscule in comparison, and U2 can only manage to ape his style with bombastic stage lights. (By my guess those are the biggest bands currently working. The Rolling Stones are good, but I've never seen them live.) Bruce spent most of his time down in front communing with the audience, taking posters with songs requests, giving other folks a chance to sing, and making grown women swoon. For those in the front row, general admission, they may not be able to live August 16, 2008 down.

Highlights from the set included, "Because the Night," "The Rising," "Jungleland," "Streets of Fire," and (of course) "Born to Run." Hell, even "Dancing in the Dark" was fucking awesome to hear live. But really, the greatest moment of the show, for me, was the intense up full-band version of "Atlantic City." Nebraska is holy territory and it's minimalist structure and recording should not be toyed with lightly. But Springsteen knows what he's doing to his songs and the live, full-band version is even better than the recorded version. That's right, better.

And as for the disappointment I mentioned earlier...well, not everyone got to hear every song they wanted to. My brother wanted to hear some tunes of Darkness On the Edge of Town and The Seeger Sessions to no avail. But when you're one of the greatest legends in rock music and American history, and your back catalog of music stretches farther than most bands' eyeliner, you can do like the sign from an audience member in the front row says, "Play Whatever You Want."

Charleston :: Weekend Concerts

If you're going to be in sunny, hot-as-hell Charleston this weekend, the weekend is looking like a good one for live shows.

• Friday, August 8, you're on your own...though I suppose you could go to the Music Farm to see Mike Gordon, bassist for Phish. If that's what you're into.

• Saturday, August 9, Richard Lloyd and the SufiMonkey Trio will be playing at A Dough Re Mi. Lloyd and drummer Billy Ficca were 1/2 of Television. The City Paper has an interview and article on the band here.

• Sunday, August 10, The Hold Steady + The Loved Ones are at the Pour House. I don't need to say any more. The City Paper has an interview and article on the band here.

I'm out for Friday and Saturday, but I'll be out Sunday with my rock shoes on.

Cutting Corners with Our Faces

Matt Pond PA @ The Map Room, Charleston, SC (March 4, 2008)





















There are a few bands that garner more than four CD-sized slots on my music rack. And those slots are usually occupied by “classic” artists (Neil Young, The Beatles, U2) and a few less-than-a decade-old bands (The Pernice Brothers, Modest Mouse, Ryan Adams). Matt Pond PA falls into the latter category, though I often find it difficult to remember why I own six discs (four full lengths and two EPs) of their/his music; that is, until I break one out on long car ride or breathe in deep, wintry air and feel like I must listen to one of his songs. Now.

That MPPA are deeply and almost comprehensively associated with weather, seasons, holidays, etc. is an element that listeners and fans have no doubt come to observe and, most likely, appreciate. It’s fitting then that MPPA’s first trip to Charleston in seven years would come at a time when we were anticipating a violent burst of severe weather. Tornadoes and hail were loudly called for by the weatherpersons; none of it materialized, except for some occasional bursts of wind and a few brief cloud bursts. Nonetheless, with the elements working against us and a heavily anticipated Tuesday night primary in Texas and Ohio, I did not expect a big crowd at The Map Room.

I was totally and utterly wrong.

A crowd of at least 150 packed the stage area and the surrounding bar. (Doesn’t sound like a lot of folks, I know, but The Map Room is not what one would call large.) Fortunately, I managed to aimlessly wander to the front of the stage during tuning/soundcheck and then, as if by surprise, the band started to play. I felt a push against my back and turned to see four, thick rows of people paraded behind me.

The set relied heavily on the latest release, Last Light. Definitely not one of MPPA’s better albums, mostly because it sound as if Matt Pond decided to try to make a half-hearted rock record—a task that does not really fit into his band’s sound. The cello got ditched for this record and for this tour, but the songs still held enough thrust and melody without it to stand on their own. And anyone who's a fan will tell you that MPPA have songs whose melodies and lyrics rattle in your brain for weeks, months, and, for some, years. And everyone has a favorite song—that one song—that makes the daytime that much more bearable and the nighttime that much more glorious.

The momentum of the evening would build and swell with exceptional songs like, “So Much Trouble” and “People Have a Way,” and then crash way down with songs like “Wild Girl” and “New Hampshire.” Matt Pond does not look comfortable onstage, and his dreamy-nature-boy aloofness may be endearing to the ladies, but comes off as painful to some. “Here is a song,” he would say sheepishly before a few numbers. And inevitably someone would holler out a request for some obscure songs off of Measure or The Nature of Maps.

The night felt surreal with the bruising wind outside rattling the windows, Barack Obama slowly losing Texas and Ohio, and the drunk girl beside who kept yelling for “Grave’s Disease” (another obscure song from Emblems). And I felt like someone gave me a shot in the arm after the show ended, but the people refused to leave. “Guys, it’s a Tuesday night and the hurricane is coming,” Matt Pond joked after coming out for a second encore. But no one listened. Some folks had waited seven years for MPPA to come back to this city and they might not be around in another seven years to see them again.

“Thanks for coming!” someone screamed as NBC declared Ohio for Clinton. “Now play ‘Fairlee!”

“Play what you want!” a girl yelled from the back.

I’m with her, I thought. I can always have a new favorite song for tonight.

Damien Jurado - "Texas to Ohio" (mp3)

From Here We Go Deaf

Reportedly, EITS are going on self-imposed hiatus after this tour. Download a live concert here, courtesy of the good folks at NPR.