Khonnor

Every so often I freak out about some new music I've found. Looks like this is the latest...

Labels like Morr Music and Playgroup have been - for a while now - throwing us artists who make attempts to reference the early 90's shoegazer movement (sometimes indirectly, and other times blatantly). While there have been some interesting songs to come out of this semi-revival, nothing has stood out as particularly moving for me -- until now.

A little while ago I picked up an album by Radio Dept., a Swedish group who have succeeded in recreating the more uplifting rock'n'roll moments of the genre. I've been listening to their album constantly -- but yesterday I stopped. I was sent some MP3s by this kid out of Vermont, going under the name Khonnor, and I was blown away.

I'm not one to believe too deeply in the soul, re-incarnation, or intense spirituality, but Khonnor seems to be channeling the essence of Slowdive through a mid-80s PC speaker. Using primarily digital editing tools and some antiquated electronics, layered with electrofolk acoustics, the sound he's achieved is both familiar and unique. It's tough to pin down, but it's the closest thing I've heard to a new sound in this realm of music in years.

So while guys like Lali Puna recycle the tried-and-true, and M83, Colder, and Circlesquare attempt to apply the techniques - or the sentiments - of Kevin Shields to modern electronic production, Connor Kirby-Long out-does them all by crafting an ode to Neil Halstead that presents itself as beautifully naive in it's originality.

Did I mention that he was 17-years-old when he started producing this music?

http://www.khonnor.com/
http://www.pleasedosomething.com/r/pls001/
http://www.typerecords.com/artists/full.php?id=24

Payback Time (Georgia Straight)

My payback mail was published in the last Georgia Straight. They edited my original version down to 150 words:

Dear Payback Time: I have read a number of Martin Turenne's reviews, and--occasionally--agreed with the sentiment but not the delivery. Adrienne, lead singer of the No No Spots, recently brought his Chromeo concert review to my attention, and we had a good long talk about the state of indie rock in this pretty city of Rollerbladers and glass apartment boxes. Turenne's reviews typify the mindset which seems to pervade a very vocal, jaded minority of music listeners and concertgoers here. It works something like this: is it from Vancouver? Well, it probably sucks. Do the "scenesters/hipsters/cool kids" like it? Well, then it definitely sucks. Is it obscure and almost unlistenable, sonically boring but full of artistic pretences, or experimental to the point of being annoying? Well, then it's probably great, and the rest of you kids just don't get it. Read between the lines of Turenne's name-dropping and genre-checking and you can sense a palpable distaste for those of us who aim to build a scene--a subculture, maybe--that revolves around a like-minded view of art, music, and style. No No Spots are well aware of their shortcomings. But they do have hooks. And they do have a fan base and a group of friends who will support them as they grow. It would be nice if those with a voice in this city did the same. Hopefully, Turenne didn't spend too much time sulking in a corner of the bar while the rest of us had fun.

Greg Ipp



Martin Turenne replies: Dearest Greg--It sounds like you're the sort of person who shields himself from challenging music by simply dismissing it as boring; if that's true, that's too bad. As for me, whether or not the music is made by locals doesn't matter at all. You might think that's foolish, but I'd say it's necessary. Should I be more generous to Vancouver bands than to acts from, say, Seattle? If yes, should I be nicer to East Van artists than to those from the West Side? My gut says no; saying yes means I'd have to start lying to everyone who reads this stuff. As for my distaste for hipster-approved bands, the Brickyard show proved once again that these people don't actually care about music for music's sake. Was anyone at that show even listening to the sets? Not by my count.

The problem with these local "scenes" that you're talking about--whether they're centred on music, fashion, the visual arts, or some combination of the three--is that the folks involved in them seem to spend more time partying than toiling at their craft. (If you've ever been to the Emily Carr grad show, you know what I mean.) As a result, the art coming out of those scenes is inevitably shallow and superfluous, mere background for the next round of "candid" Polaroid shots and celebratory coke rails. If the rest of you kids can't see how lame that is, it's only because you're not working hard enough.

Chromeo vs No No Spots vs neon lights vs Georgia Straight

I wrote this in response to a review of the Chromeo/No No Spots show in Vancouver. My friend Adrienne is in the No No Spots, and took issue with what the reviewer (who is generally on the I-hate-it-all side of things) said. So did I...

Published in the Georgia Straight - November 18 2004

Martin,

I have read a number of your reviews, and - occasionally - agreed with the sentiment but not the delivery. Adrienne, lead singer of the No No Spots, recently brought your Chromeo concert review to my attention, and we had a good long talk about the state of indie rock in this pretty city of rollerbladers and glass apartment boxes.

Your reviews typify the mindset which seems to pervade a very vocal, jaded minority of music listeners and concert goers here. It works something like this: Is it from Vancouver? Well it probably sucks. Do the "scenesters/hipsters/cool-kids" like it? Well then it definitely sucks. Is it obscure and almost unlistenable, sonically boring but full of artistic pretenses, or experimental to the point of being annoying? Well then it's probably great, and the rest of you kids just don't get it.

Now, I said a very vocal minority, because the voice of dissent-towards-the-locals is well heard around this city. Read between the lines of your name dropping and genre checking, and you can sense a palpable distaste for those of us who aim to build a scene - a sub-culture maybe - that revolves around a like-minded view of art, music and style.

When I left Toronto ten years ago, to come to Vancouver, one of the reasons was because of the lack of local support and sense of community in the indie scene over there. It was fragmented and non-existent in the post-rave comedown. Now I find myself leaving Vancouver to return to Toronto for similar reasons. Go there, and you will find a swell of support for the indie locals, and an attitude which doesn't take itself too seriously. We have none of that here, for the most part. What we have are a bunch of people who are too cool to enjoy themselves when it comes to hearing good - if derivative - music played by their peers in their own city (for the record, Elizabeth are a great band to watch).

No No Spots are well aware of their short-comings. But they do have hooks. And they do have a fanbase and a group of friends who will support them as they grow. It would be nice if those with a voice inthis city did the same. Chromeo are a novelty act; unfortunately, since one of them is hip-hop editor at Vice, they will probably spend quite a bit of time in the minds (if not the hearts) of that magazine's readership. That other band with the neon stuff... I went outside and stood in the rain for a while when they were playing. Some of my friends were out there making vaguely witty references to things which I laughed at, responded to, and had fun thinking about. Hopefully you didn't spend too much time sulking in a corner of the bar while the rest of us had fun.

Greg Ipp
No Format / Color Magazine / Terminal City

Here we go

Transferring my entire blog over from Myspace.

I will be in Toronto from November 15th to the 21st, with Lana.

I will be moving to Toronto around December 3rd.

TV On The Radio - Terminal City

Published in Terminal City - November 4 2004

Used to be when someone said “Brooklyn,” you thought, “Globe Trotters” -- although I’m told that was Harlem. Maybe Larry Bird? Well, one of the guys in TV On The Radio has an amazing afro, and the band has gained a lot of attention over the last year for this. Having members of The Liars (Aaron Hemphill) and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Nick Zinner and Brian Chase) play on their debut “Young Liars” EP, didn’t hurt either, and helped TVOTR garner the scene cred necessary to become darlings of the indie music press. To back it up, the music was stunning; different, but no so much as to be inaccessible. Combining doo-wop vocals with churning rhythms and steady, feedback-heavy guitars, they were heralded as the new heroes of New York’s indie music underground.

With their subsequent album, “Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes,” released on Touch and Go records, the band were able to impress the fans enough to bring a sellout crowd to the Pic Pub on their last tour. Switching things up for their live show, TVOTR are still based around Tunde Adebimpe, Andrew Sitek, and Kyp Malone (owner of the famous afro), but add drummer Jaleel Bunton and Gerard Smith on bass. Where the album washes over you, the live experience propels you, with Bunton’s rhythms brought up in the mix, and Adebimpe generating enough energy to move just about any pair of Chuck Taylors (he was a famous basketball player, all Globe Trotter-like).

Recently, TV On The Radio released a new single, “New Health Rock.” Not content to stick to any sort of formula, the title track gathers some inspiration from the live dynamic the band creates, and punches things up with a steady beat and pulsating bass. You can’t call it dancerock, but you can probably dance to it. The single's b-side, their predominantly accepella cover of The Yeah Yeah Yeahs Modern Romance, drops things down considerably, and sticks faithfully to the outline set out by the original. We’ll have to wait and see if this one has snuck it’s way into their live set.

Some of the most bizarre material to be found from TVOTR can be read via their online journal (http://youngliars.blogspot.com/). Essentially the existential, metaphorical, and straight up weird thoughts of Andrew Sitek, the blog is sometimes updated while the band is on the road – last time I saw, through a cool wireless handheld device. I’m not sure if this is still the case, since Sitek had been using the thing, delivered from their label, without checking up to see how much it was costing him. The stream-of-consciousness writing makes you think, if nothing else (about what, I’m not sure).

If last years performance – and the reports from elsewhere around the continent – are anything to go by, this will be a show you don’t want to miss. Enjoy the album, but recognize that TV On The Radio know how to entertain an audience, and while “Desperate Youth…” is subtle and ethereal, their stage presence is demanding and exciting.

The Deserters

(Inspired by The Occasion's The Deserters and my life)

The damp cold seeped through the glass of the car window against which she pressed her hand, eyes fixed, staring at me -- or something beyond me. I kneeled in the dirt, my hands freezing, my nails blunted by stones as I dug the graves. The ground was wet. I glanced back at her; noticed the condensation leaving trails as drops of water inched down the window. Now I could see only the base of her palm and the tips of her fingers and a vague silhouette.

I thought about my promise. I promised that I’d never leave.

The feel of cold, dead skin as I dragged the bodies from the woods and across the field. I peeled back the lids and looked in their eyes; tried to find some life in there. I still have the dreams. My childhood. As my parents drove along hedged-in roads through the early morning -- the fog made the hills look like islands and I rested my forehead against the cold window, let my suede jacket brush against my cheek, focused on my reflection and then again on the green and gray as it crawled past us.

I thought about my promise. I ran.

Through the forest and into a ravine where I could hear the sound of a river and leaves and her voice calling my name. She could never catch me. I doubled back and lost her as her cries faded into the fog and I found the fort my friends had made under a fallen tree.

I am shooting beer bottles with a pellet gun – they’re balanced on a tree stump. I killed a bird yesterday. I watched it fall through the trees to the ground, and I ran to see how badly I’d hit it. It’s blood was deep red and it clung to the leaves like honey; I put a hole through it’s neck.