All has been pretty quiet on the Fleet Foxes front for a while now, so it was nice to get an update on what's going on. Good on Robin Pecknold for finishing up his degree; it's a huge accomplishment!
Even though I expected the next announcement from these guys to be information on a new album (as hinted by a string of pictures posted back in 2013) I'm happy to see that it still looks like something is in the works.
Your quality of life will be significantly increased if you go see Mac DeMarco live. I promise.
Yesterday, a friend and I made our merry way down to Tulane University in New Orleans for an afternoon of music sponsored by TUCP to see the slacker prince of indie music.
It's barely surprising that DeMarco was asked to play at the university, as he's recently garnered a lot of attention from his latest album, Salad Days and a fair amount of coverage from numerous music media outlets, even landing Pitchfork's cover story prior to the release of said album.
Arriving 30 minutes early, we were able to snag some coveted spots up against the guard rail and listened to DeMarco and co.'s sound check. After all levels were set, DeMarco went behind the stage where fans started to crowd around.
For the duration of the opening band's set (New Orleans-based duo, Caddywhompus) he met with people and posed for pictures. He knelt down, arm wrestled, waved, and received kisses on the cheek from strangers, all in the name of iPhone pics that have no doubt already made their way to Instagram. (Seriously, just go check out how may people hashtagged "#macdemarco" in New Orleans tonight - it's a lot.)
He was good natured, waving and talking to anyone who approached him. I chose to keep my spot up front and wait for him to make his way to the stage. This later benefited me, when DeMarco took his place behind the center microphone, and announced he had a problem with the guard rails. He encouraged everyone to jump them and get comfortable closer to the stage. It took me all of half a second to scoop up my purse, practically launch myself over the rail, and run forward.
But enough about me (for now).
Onstage, DeMarco was as friendly with the crowd as he'd been to the many who had approached him pre-show. Taking fan requests, chatting with the peanut gallery between songs, and generally keeping communication flowing throughout the performance proved he was comfortable on stage and that all that's been written about his goofballish nature is completely true.
When he wasn't making faces and dispensing useless advice, ("You can listen to the next song, but you don't have to. If you don't want to listen, you can just dance. But you don't have to do that either."), he was pretty much nailing the performance like a seasoned professional who still has the heart of a kid playing basement shows. The set flowed effortlessly. DeMarco has a way of combining his upbeat energy with his generally chill songs to create an environment of good vibes.
As my friend put it, "[The music] held you, but didn't hold onto you."
The set included songs from his latest album, Salad Days, as well as songs from 2, and "I'm a Man" off of Rock and Roll Night Club. He was visibly excited as the crowd sang along to every song, and recounted the last time he played New Orleans to a meager crowd of about 5 people.
Way more than 5 people showed up for this show, and had every single person asked for an autograph, picture, or handshake, I'm convinced DeMarco would have obliged. Given his slacker reputation, I was surprised at all of the effort he put into making sure everyone was addressed and given attention. He was invited to parties and bars while accepting sips of beer from fans as he signed his name on everything from drivers' licenses to condoms.
Even slackers like to party, I guess.
But I can't accept that DeMarco actually deserves the persona that precedes him. Despite the lovable goofus that appears in pictures and interviews, his songs are proof of the dedication to his craft, especially apparent on his latest album and in concert. He's admitted that his newest batch of songs are the most personal he's ever written, and personally, I think his songs sound better with a little meaning to them.
Nearing the end of his time on stage, DeMarco removed his cap and approached the ledge that separated his feet from the heads of hundreds of us, eyes skyward in anticipation.
"Permission to surf?" he asked, cracking his infamous gap-toothed grin. His question was, of course, met with a roar of approval and he dove into the crowd, making his round before arriving back on stage, Pabst in hand.
He bid us adieu shortly after his return to the stage, but we cried for one last song.
DeMarco didn't disappoint when he broke into "She Rides a Harley Davidson" by Neil Young, a fellow Canadian he informed us. He commanded everyone - as a sign of respect - to "kneel for Neil." The show ended with everyone belting what lyrics they knew, wishing our wacky prince could stay longer.
(a short video with poor sound quality that shows us all springing up from "kneeling for Neil")
Fortunately, he did hang out a bit longer, at least long enough for me to capture a little bit of his affable charm in a picture to #latergram that night.
Yes, my friends, today is National Record Store Day.
I'm personally a huge fan of the vinyl medium. My parents have a pretty decent collection, mostly inherited from my grandparents. When I was in high school, I started to get into the stacks upon stacks that were hiding in our closet upstairs and decided I wanted a collection of my own.
If I'm not mistaken, my first vinyl purchases were made at my local flea market. For $20 I got a cardboard box of the moth-balliest smelling records my nose had had has the misfortune of sniffing.
Despite the stench, and much to my mother's dismay, I dug through the box and brought in the ones with interesting cover art. (Because that's the most appropriate way to choose new music, of course.)
Among my first stack was the soundtrack to The Decline of Western Civilization, Part II: The Metal Years, Emerson, Lake, and Palmer's Brain Salad Surgery, Diana Ross' Why Do Fools Fall in Love?, Chicago's IX: Greatest Hits '69-'74, and the ever-popular Teach Your Parakeet to Talk.
I rubbed each of the album covers down in a flowery scented dryer sheet and pored over all of the fine print. Who were the artists, who produced the album, who were the guest musicians? I don't remember an of this information now, but at the time it was refreshing to get away from my iPod and still infant collection of mp3s.
Getting back to earlier forms of music can be a real treat, and a great way to connect with the artist. Learn about who you're listening to!
Unfortunately, I didn't have any extra money to spend on records this year, but rest assured, I will be heading back to my local shop next pay day.
Or Spooky Black. I'm not sure which he officially goes by.
Earlier this week, when I arrived home from my 20 day road trip, one of the first things my neighbor told me was, "Oh my god, I have something to show you. You're gonna love this!"
It's not uncommon for me to hear this at least a couple times a week from him, but he knows my musical tastes pretty well, so I made an effort to genuinely listen when, later, we sat on his bed getting ready to marathon all the music videos we'd been waiting to show each other in my absence.
The song was "Without U" and the accompanying music video was...interesting.
See for yourself.
Intrigued by this young, white, maybe-aspiring R&B artist, I did a little research. His name is Corbin Smidzik from St. Paul, Minnesota. His Bandcamp page showed that he has a full album of material ready and waiting for you to buy. With the name your own price option (starting at $1), I couldn't resist and put up $3 to hear what else this kid had up his sleeve. (Apparently I'm late to the game because he released this album on Feb. 28)
Black Silk by Lil Spook is what you get once the file downloads. It's 11 tracks long and it will keep you glued to your seat for the full 38 minutes.
One thing that I like about this album is that it's roomy. His voice echoes out from the depths and while he has multiple layered sounds, none of them are competing - just complementing. Tiny bells, bird chirps, and various other sounds lend themselves to build up a fantasy world around Spook's voice.
I commend him and the noted producers for doing such a wonderful job of creating catchy beats, but allowing the lyrics to play an equally important role. It's easy to have an imbalance, especially on a first album.
This album might work for fans of The Weeknd and James Blake. If you're checking Lil Spook out for the first time, I recommend "Forest Sounds," "Remember You," and "Without U."
Honestly, this is some pretty sexy stuff. I'm not sure if that's a result of Spook's voice or his ability to rock a gold chain, turtleneck, and do rag. Either way, you might want to bring this into the bedroom if you're looking to get lucky soon.
