Remember September
One more night: That’s all we have together this month. Don’t know about you, but we’re all for looping a mixtape that has nothing but “Born To Run” and “Livin’ On A Prayer” and cranking that baby ’til October comes.
October always carries the waft of Halloween — the incredible smell that can only be acquired by breathing heavily into a plastic mask — though someone obviously told The Acorn which time of year they could make their most money. Given fall’s coziness — sleeping under flannel sheets with the windows open, checking the crotch of last year’s longjohns to make sure there are no harvestable mushrooms — the band fit right in, not strikingly original (a highly accessible mesh of Califone and Iron & Wine) but fluently executed indie folk that marries well with a crackling fire and bottle of red. No Ghost (Bella Union) takes up where 2007’s Glory Hope Mountain left off, though more indicative of the band’s attitude in a live setting. Serious and even sad on record, “Crossed Wires” stands as the most straightforward example of the energy these guys can bring. (Thursday@Schubas with Basia Bulat.)
Give Glasser all the credit in the world for being brave, or hate her manager for putting her in this position. Young Cameron Mesirow opens for Gayngs on her maiden national tour, which is a collective (including members of Bon Iver, The Rosebuds, and Megafaun) constructed with the sole intent to indulge indie-soul fetishes as they relate to 10cc. This two-dozen-strong band starkly contrasts Glasser, whose electro compositions tread much more closely to Dani Siciliano, Medulla-era Bjork, and El Perro Del Mar. Ring, her True Panther debut, blends a minimalist mindset with a breathy sexuality, altogether more serious than Gayngs at their most sincere. (Thursday@Metro with Gayngs.)
The promise of a music career outside of MTV and Top-40 is blunted somewhat by blog-rock’s tissue-box approach to rifling through bands. It was only three years ago that NME and Spin had grouped Klaxons with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Cold War Kids, etc., in the next wave of next waves. Both CYHSY and CWK’s sophomore efforts are now under-rug-swept, so perhaps it was a patient eye in the Klaxons camp that held them back and made them refine Surfing The Void (Polydor). Only it wasn’t. Fraught with intercessions from their label, which allegedly found the original version too experimental, Klaxons blew through a roster of producers before landing on nu-metal impresario Ross Robinson to guide the finished product. Predictably, Surfing has harder rock edges than the dancy bent that accompanied the debut. If anything, a concert will be the best place to find out how the album was supposed to sound. (Thursday@Lincoln Hall with Baby Monster.)
— Steve Forstneger
Category: Stage Buzz, Weekly
