Land of talk
Applause Cheer Boo Hiss
At some point in any movement, the whole shebang jumps the shark. When listening to Montrealers Land of Talk, you can hear why their brand of indie rock's already up and done it. They sound like a watered-down version of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and they'll probably be famous for related reasons: a moderately catchy lead single, a sexually aggressive front-woman, foreignness.*
Especially apparent on the lead single, "Speak to Me Bones," a strictly delineated structure and a ruthless sound technician have given their material a repetitive, danceable beat. Adding a layer of fuzz on top via aimless feedbacking adds the requisite indie credibility. But all that just makes them derivative of recent-vintage British bands like Bloc Party or Franz Ferdinand.
Additionally, they lack a coherent sound. Half the songs are art-punk dance riffs. The rest are mid-tempo crooners for cowboys who went to fashion school. Adding to the oddity is that the strongest track, "All My Friends," is buried at the second-to-last spot, suggesting that the band (or their distributor) are not confident in their own abilities.
Ultimately it's not clear why listeners should care about Applause Cheer Boo Hiss. Anyone listening to music in the last four years has heard this album a dozen times and will hear it a dozen more. Land of Talk's lyrics are mundane and their sound is respectable, but not memorable. The result is the sort of hype-EP that's important to bloggers and no one else.
-Matt Walsh
*The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are actually from New York. They only sound foreign. Much like many New Yorkers.
da Bears
by Ruben Brosbe
Da Bears are nothing if not resourceful. While the rest of us chumps shell out hundreds of dollars for air travel, bassist E.J. Binns and drummer Mike "Curly" Giuliana go dumpster diving for cheaper airfare. Taking advantage of a special promotion at Wendy's, the pair collected enough specially-marked 20 oz and 32 oz cups to earn trips to California and the Bahamas.
It's this same ingenuity that led a group of five college-age friends to found their own music label, Grizzly Records, establish a booking agency, Siren Booking, and plan an independent 45-city nationwide tour. And it's the same inventiveness that led them to describe their sound alternately as "fun rock," "big city rock," "Californian" and "surf-jam art-pop."
What's most surprising about all this is that Da Bears' latest lineup is only two months old. Binns and vocalist Ryan Solomon originally formed the band two years ago in their native San Diego. It was just recently that Solomon took a break from San Diego Mesa College to join Binns in Philadelphia for a serious shot at making it big. Binns, a student at Drexel, already had a lineup in mind.
In a short time, they've established themselves in the West Philly music scene. After playing local house shows and in nearby Trenton and Newark, they anticipate a gig at West Philly's own Danger! Danger! House on May 30.
A January 28th show at World Caf‚ Live gave them "a chance to figure out what's not right for us," according to Binns. "A lot of our music makes people feel like they're a little kid again," Kemp Zablotsky (keys/trumpet) explains, "and it's a lot of fun to see people get up and dance a lot and really enjoy what we're playing rather than just sitting there." Solomon adds, "There's kind of a line between people just sitting and enjoying it and taking it to the next level."
The march hare
by Alex Jacobs
Every Sunday, the March Hare practices in the basement of Zack Guy-Frank's parents' home in Mt. Airy. Set apart from file-boxes and suburban house detritus, the corner practice studio is filled with what look like expensive gadgets. The big table nearby is littered with parts and audio odds and ends. Guy-Frank, lead vocalist and a Penn sophomore, brings together a group whose backgrounds are as diverse as their tastes in music: two have been students at the University of the Arts, one is a classically-trained violinist, another builds custom bass guitars. Last week, the band's five members settled in comfortably for another six-hour practice session. The whole scene has something of That '70s Show to it - for their goofy, self-effacing dynamic as much as their basement hideaway. "Alicia and I were in a band in a past life," jokes Zack. "In the '70s," violinist Alicia Ritter replies.
The band first formed in 2004 after Zack, then a high school junior, posted flyers at University of the Arts. The original lineup - including Jon Hafer (keys/vocals) and drummer Charlie Heim - went on to play, by Jon's account, "almost all the clubs in town," including the Troc Balcony. Performing weekly for almost a year, they earned a reputation for an exciting live show and a reliable fan base. They knew "we [wouldn't] set the club on fire," Zach says by way of explanation. After briefly disbanding in September, they reformed with Alicia Ritter and bassist Ryan Hyde.
The March Hare's sound can be a bit hard to pin down - Alicia eventually stops to ask: "When you heard us, what bands did it remind you of?" Charlie, for one, readily compares Zack's vocals to the hardcore act, The Blood Brothers. But the music can veer to the other extreme, in the more gentle harmonies of tracks like "In the Attic." At other moments, metal basslines come face-to-face with pedal-distorted guitar solos. When writing songs, says Jon, "it's whatever genre of music fits best for the idea we have. Our sound is constantly evolving." They hope to record their latest material - about an album's worth - some time this summer.
Friday's show will be their first with the new lineup. Charlie warns: their live act can be uncompromising. "Either people would be really into us, or we'd play 'Mr. Clean.' People would say, 'That's too crazy,' and they'd leave. There's too much stuff going on, and they can't dig it." Challenging or not, the March Hare are seasoned enough artists to guarantee that every show will be unique. As Zack puts it: "We're big on making it a performance."
Like mindz
by Alex Kwan
"You know that guy who everyone likes to pick on? I'm that guy," explains a fresh-looking Nana Tuffuor, the emcee of Like Mindz. A moment before, his bandmates tease him for arriving late - predictably - for the interview. After only ten minutes with Like Mindz, it's clear how tight-knit they are as a group. It's a harmony that extends to their music.
Tracing their roots back to a misconceived idea of forming a salsa band, Like Mindz has instead become Penn's only hip-hop outfit. The group formed two-and-a-half years ago and has only evolved, drawing on a network of talented friends. Lyricist and emcee Dan Callahan (aka Legion) and bassist Dan Caroff, the only original members, said, "We didn't really hold any auditions. We just kind of assumed that our friends would take the place of the departing members."
Like Mindz fuses elements of neo-soul, jazz and hip-hop. Kris Sock's resonant voice is the heart of their sound. On stage, the band splits its time between original materials and covers. As Tuffuor puts it, "When we perform covers, we inject new lyrics and key modulations to keep the sound novel and our own."
Mindz owe their success to sheer talent and the mutual respect between its members. Sock explains: "We are all independent artists in our own right, but we come together to form an entity that is our escape." Sharing their diverse talents, as drummer Jason Edwards puts it, they "add to something bigger than ourselves."
Tuffuor, Legion and Sock eagerly share the mic. Classically-trained Caroff is known to swap walking bass lines with b-boy dance breaks, while jacks of all trades Hayling Price (keys) and Edwards juggle lyrics, cadences and rim shots. Like Mindz balance formal structure and spontaneity, creating a show at once cohesive and magnetic. As Price puts it, "Before we go on, we pray together because, like some people say, music is their religion. Now I'm a Christian so I don't take it that far. But I can feel them."
Caroff jokes: It's all about, "Money, Hos, and Ninth Chords."
DJs Adonis and Nik
by Leo C. Reilly
Street: Where are you from?
Nik Loumidis: Athens, Greece.
Adonis Ioannou: A small village in Greece named Tolo, lots of clubs nearby and a good scene.
Street: How did you guys start DJ-ing together?
AI: We both sort of had an interest in DJ-ing, so it made sense.
NL: In Greece, everyone who likes music kind of would like to be a DJ, because everyone listens to house music. It is like if you like rock music here, you want to play guitar.
Street: How would you compare the music scene in the States to Greece?
AI: [Europe] is more DJ centric. In America, the DJ is pushed off to the side, but in Europe the DJ is in the middle of the party, on a stage almost. If you like what he is playing you lift your drink to be like, "Yeah this is good." DJs have control of the crowd.
Street: How does that affect how you do parties here, then, where people expect a safer sound?
NL: Actually, Americans don't know the music as well, so they are less critical. They don't know what to expect, so we can try newer songs for parties here.
AI: Yeah, and even for Europeans it is hard to keep up to date here. Americans, though, have an idea of what European music should sound like. They don't want the hard stuff, you know, bass-heavy, almost trance music.
Street: How do you get the party going?
NL: You start up with some less-known, lounge music. You have to hit your peak from one to two.
AI: Two is way too early. In Greece, we can have parties until four, five, even seven [a.m.]. Here you compress your show.
NL: In some ways it is easier for us, but you don't get a cool down after the peak.
Street: Where have you DJ-ed recently at Penn?
NL: We had a party at the SAE house that was big. It was sponsored by Microsoft, with people from Drexel and Temple, too. It was an all-house party, and it seemed like the crowd was really into it.
AI: Yeah we have been doing a lot of house parties. Some work with EuroPenn [a party at Bubble House].
Street: Do you guys use any props when you perform? Drinks? Cigarettes?
NL: Sometimes a cigarette is a must, but no drinking, you need to be able to concentrate. You have to dress like a DJ, no blazer or button-down.
AI: I used to have this sound-activated T-shirt. It had a battery powered equalizer on the front that would light up, but I let my friend wear it to a rave and now it's gone.
Street: What can the crowd expect from you guys on Friday?
NL: They will need to be open to a different type of party than the usual rap and R&B, but we are seeing a good reaction to our stuff, so it should be more of that.
DJ SHUGz
by Rachel Friedman
Hailing from Orange County, California, Penn sophomore Scott Fujii - also known as DJ Shugz - is a familiar DJ to the campus party scene.
Fujii's interest in DJ-ing began about five years ago, when he became frustrated with the limitations of the classical instruments - piano, alto sax, violin - that he was playing in high school. "I would have to play all these old songs with old instruments, but what I heard on TV and on the radio was music being made with computers. So I was just like, 'No more of this old stuff, I just want to do new stuff.'"
Fujii taught himself his DJ skills by listening to the DJs of Los Angeles' well-known radio stations like KISS, KROQ and Power 106. Instead of burning CDs to listen to in the car, Fujii would listen to the radio because he "liked the engaging aspect of the personalities and the music," he says.
Spinning a type of music he calls "hip hop and Top 40 mash-up," Fujii began to perform at high school parties and formals. Freshman year at Penn, Fujii landed himself a weekly spot on WQHS, Penn's radio station.
With all this experience, Fujii eagerly sought performance opportunities, and quickly established a name for himself on Penn's party scene. He is an unofficial resident DJ for campus frats Pi Kapp, SAE, and St. Elmo's. Off campus, he has spun at the Center City venues XO Lounge and Positano Coast.
These days, he performs about twice a week, and soon may become a resident DJ for Marbar, guaranteeing him a permanent weekly gig.
Beyond performing, Fujii is particularly interested in the business side of both music and the media industry as a whole. "I'd like to be in a position down the road where I could start consulting for all the media companies," he says.
He hopes to always keep up his DJ-ing as at least a side career. At Penn, he aims to become "the dominant market share leader," he says. "I want to be distinguished as not the generic guy that shows up at 10 and starts playing, but the guy who's always able to cater to the crowd"
