Best New Music: Male Bonding

No, this isn't the winning entry for a "caption this photo contest" (although that WOULD be pretty funny) -- but rather a little slice of reality for UK-based Male Bonding, a raucous, surf-punk-inspired threesome liable to send your no-fi-craving-ear-drums into hyperdrive. A DIY-act whose debut LP, Nothing Hurts, caught the attention of SubPop, Male Bonding's raw energy and insatiable songwriting have already won them spots touring with Vivian Girls, Dum Dum Girls, No Age and more--head over to Phrequency.com to see what all the fuss is about.

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Some tunes for this rainy Monday morning...

Here's a new one from San Fran electro pop duo The Frail:

There's something so soothing about wispy synths, juxtaposed with images of running water...it's not a Postal Service reunion, but for now, it's the next best thing!

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Vacationland: in photos!

Ah, Vegas. Friends and family have remarked, in the past, that they find my love of Sin City strange -- imagining it, I suppose, as some sort of perverted hybrid between MTV Spring Break (with fountains! in the desert!) and old folk's variety hour -- some aging, out-of-work actress singing karaoke renditions of Barbra Streisand tunes while dusted grayheads spend hours plugging change into slot machines.

With this, I can't argue. The number of bleached blond Real World wannabes stumbling about in too-large pumps is staggering...and walking through any casino at 2 in the afternoon, you're sure to find row upon row of old folks staring intently at the Keno bubble. But Vegas is also so much more. It's essentially a giant theme park -- for adults! -- where food and attractions beckon at every corner, where shops are plentiful, drinks are strong, and you can even buy a giant 72-oz margarita and wear it around your neck as you walk down the street. (Note: I would never do this. Hurt me if I ever attempt to!)

It's also surprisingly cheap (about $350 a person for flights + 5 nights in a hotel) -- which is the REAL reason we chose the destination. I'd say it was well-worth the money! My 6-day stay was delightful, and I have photos to prove it. Enjoy!

The "BLT Mary." Bacon, lettuce, and tomato in a traditional BM.
Served with a side of toast. Mmmm!

The lobby of our hotel. A great value!

Matt in the "Miracle Mile Shops." Note the giant stripper lady in
the background. Vegas isn't great at subtle.

Outlet for purchasing 72-oz margaritas.

The strip, at dusk.

Giant griffin at the Forum Shops at Caesar's.

I have about 1000 shots of Matt and I in front of fountains. Here's one of them.

Umbrellas in the Venetian lobby. Pretty!

Devouring a baguette at an adorable French bistro. Yummy!

Windblown on top of the "Eiffel Tower"

Paris balloon, at night.

Elevator shaft.

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Best New Music: The School

Like many children whose parents came of age in the '60s and '70s, some of my earliest musical memories include riding in the Bracaglia family station wagon, listening to oldies radio as my mother (never a singer, although quite the enthusiast!) offered impromptu renditions of all her favorite tunes (much to the rest of our chagrin.)

Looking back, there are so many classic songs that lend themselves to novice recreation...although perhaps none as much as those of the great girl groups of the time: bands like The Chiffons, The Ronnettes, The Crystals, and The Shangri-Las. Not only, being an alto, are these easier to sing than say...The Four Seasons (what woman has mastered that famous Frankie V falsetto?)—but they're so much FUN—with their exuberant, lush harmonies, and simple plot lines about boyfriends and parties and motorcycles and weddings.

The Shangri-Las. SO FAB!

These were the tunes of my youth—I heard them so many times that the melodies are forever ingrained in my skull; even now, when I hear “One fine day” or “Mr. Postman” on the radio, I can't stop my feet from tapping. So it's no surprise that I was immediately attracted to the sunny harmonies and retro sounds of Cardiff, Wales's The School, whose debut album, Loveless Unbeliever, takes me back to those magic karaoke moments.

The School!

A 8-piece well-versed in summer pop—with a talent for story-telling and their fair share of flair—The School craft the kind of tunes that make you want to roll down the windows and croon into your flip-flop (does anyone else do this?) while reminiscing about the great pop of the past. Read more—and check out the video for first single “The slip” at (you guessed it!) Phrequency.com. Why can't all school be this much fun?

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Hello, and greetings from Vegas...

...where yours truly has escaped to this past week (thanks, auto-posting!) and where the warm weather and sparkly EVERYTHING were a much-needed change from the City O.B.L. (I love you Philly, I just needed space!)

Unfortunately, Sin City is not exactly known for its tunes (unless you count The Killers [borderline cool at best] and cover-band renditions of "Forever young")--which meant after a few days, I was pretty much starved for tunes. No matter. Friends recommended the Double Down Saloon (a few miles off the strip, near the University of Las Vegas), and there I journeyed, to satiate my music craving, and experience indie rock, West-Coast style.

Once there, I was surprised to find a sticker from local boys The Jukebox
Zeros adorning the walls--I guess I'm not the only Philadelphian
to stumble upon this gem!

Touted on its website as "the Anti-Vegas...a clubhouse for the lunatic fringe" (as well as "Home of the Fabled Ass Juice" and "Bacon Martini" [neither of which I tried]), Double Down's cheap booze, dim lighting, and slightly seedy clientele (mixed in, of course, with a couple of mustachioed hipsters) made me feel like I was back home: at Rex's in West Chester (R.I.P.), or maybe the Khyber.

Matt at Double Down.

Did I mention all shows at Double Down are FREE? It really doesn't get more glorious. And thus, I witnessed the wonders that are Stagnetti's Cock (foul-mouthed garage rock, about sex and beer), and The Black Jetts, a hard-hitting spastic blues-rock foursome, who tore the venue apart with their rowdy antics, bold bass licks, and angst-y, hair-in-face vocals.

The Black Jetts

Did I come to Vegas looking to discover new tunes? Of course not. But sometimes these things sneak up on you when you least expect them, and The Black Jetts were one of those surprising delights. Well-poised to take their place in a long line of awesome "Black" bands (by which I mean: The Black Keys, The Black Lips, Black Mountain) -- The Black Jetts ushered in an evening of slick shreds soooo bad-ass that by the time they finished, not one table remained un-turned, and the floor was wet with sweat and beer. Did I mention all shows at Double Down are free? Rock on, Sin City; rock on.

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Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson

That's a lot of names for just one guy, but you can't help what your parents name you, right? Anyway, this one comes to me via my good friend Mike McC, DC's ONLY ice-dancing music blogger-turned-congressional something-rather (Note: these facts not verified) --who recommended Summer of Fear to me via text message.

album cover. beautiful!

Everyone knows a text message means...this was a spontaneous association...so I decided to give it a try. The result? A visceral, gravelly record which dives deep into the soul of its singer, coming up with jagged guitars, pained, half-hushed vocals and vivid images of gloom and heartbreak (but never in a depressing way!)

An emotive, 20-something from Brooklyn, NY (by way of Portland, OR: 2 hipster enclaves!) -- Robinson did the "tortured artist" thing for a while, allegedly falling into drug addiction and living on the Coney Island park benches (and you wonder why his music is dark?) -- before picking himself up by his bootstraps -- and getting hooked up with Grizzly Bear's Chris Taylor, who produced his self-titled debut. Summer of Fear marks his second, and first on Saddle Creek Records (Bright Eyes, Cursive, Sebastian Grainger.) And while Robinson might wear his influences on his sleeves (hello, Springsteen and Dylan?)--can you blame a guy for wanting to tear apart the fragmented ruins of his heart and lament over them?* After all, they call it heart-BREAK for a reason.

*It turns out: yes. Pitchfork lambasted the album, calling it "a clusterfuck of bad pacing, pretentious lyrics histrionically sung, and overseasoned arrangements boiled to a gray mush" (yikes.) Did these 17 stinging words cause him to loose a following? MBAR thinks maybe. Read this thoughts here.

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Best New Music: The Apples in Stereo

The Apples in Stereo have always seemed to me a near-perfect pop band -- which makes sense, considering front man Robert Schneider practically invented pop. (By which I mean: Elephant Six [practically the same thing.]) Now, nearly 20 years later...he's still at it, with the exceedingly excellent Travellers in Space and Time.

The Apples. (back in the day.)

A spacey, danceable record that imagines earth...in the future!...Travellers borrows extensively from decades past (specifically: the decades of the '70s and '80s), combining vintage grooves with modern bleeps and blips for a catchy record that never has to try too hard. Read more--and catch their sweet vid featuring Elijah Wood (I never said Schneider wasn't well-connected!) at your FAVORITE kick-y local blog, Phrequency.com.

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BBQ: Aftermath

WOW. It's Monday night already and I'm JUST getting around to posting here on BBQ. What a crazy past few days it's been!

DIY "enthusiast" Omar ride the crowd at Pilam's Human BBQ
(Photo Tiff Yoon for Phrequency.com)

Now, as a former Pilam inhabitant, and DEDICATED live music supporter...I've waxed poetic about my love for BBQ many a time (see here, and also here) -- so I'll spare you another mush fest. But the question on everybody's tongues remains: when it comes to supporting local music, how much love is too much love?

My friend Henry, my room in Pilam. Human BBQ 2007.

I ask this question because -- as you've probably heard, if you didn't experience it firsthand -- THIS YEAR, BBQ WAS SHUT DOWN BY THE POLICE. Which is strange, really, if you consider the nature of BBQ -- live music, delicious burgers, maybe some old friends dancing around -- not quite the shitshow you'd think would incite raids!

The Low Budgets at BBQ, 2006.

But the funny thing with Pilam is...it's not just a venue. It's also a frat house, and a Penn frat house at that. And as such, it' s constantly under scrutiny from the university. And EVEN THOUGH (in my humble opinion), Pilam directs a ton of positive energy towards the school...there is a such thing as TOO much press. If university officials are seeing FRONT PAGE NEWSPAPER ARTICLES about Pilam shows (as has happened in the past; thank you Metro!)...well, I don't blame them for being worried! After all, the school's name is on the line too, should anything ever happen.

On the roof. BBQ 2009.

So what's a frat house to do? Well, number 1...keep a low profile. Which they're ALREADY doing, by moving the 1990s et al. show next Friday to Danger Danger Gallery. (1990s lovers: take note!)

Number 2? Well, I guess that would mean ATTEMPTING TO LIMIT PRESS (see number 1). Which as a music blogger makes me a little sad...if only because I want EVERYONE to know about the wonders that are Pilam. But there's certainly something to be said for word-of-mouth, which -- believe me, I know! -- can be tough in this internet age. But the truth is: Pilam is doing nothing wrong by hosting shows. If keeping quiet for the next few months can help preserve a wonderful institution for years to come...well, I don't see how anyone could possibly argue with that. I'm afraid I've said too much already!

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Neighborhood Watch: The city's in bloom!

Wow, it's amazing out! The other day I was nearly 20 minutes late to work because I got so caught up ogling all the beautiful flowers. (Luckily, my company is pretty lenient about this type of thing.)

Here are some shots from my walk: Center City to Old City, 4/7/10.

Whoops, not a flower at all! It was trash day in Center City, and
someone was throwing this mirror out. I spent like 5 minutes looking at it.

Another trash day casualty.

Outside Mixto, 11th and Pine.

Window boxes on Clinton Street.



Scooter farm in Old City.

Please make sure your scooter comes to a full and complete stop.


Little side street.


St. Peter's church




4th Street.


Pine or Lombard, between 2nd and 3rd.






The Positano Coast, 2nd and Walnut.

Pretty!

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Best New Music: Rafter

Like the ceiling beams so far above us (you know, rafters), Robert Rafter will make you feel hiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhh -- which is to say, really -- that his music is a silky, slick ride through jazzy smooth elegance...made just a little bit wacky through special effects and his own eccentric humor. (What did you think I meant by high?)




No, seriously. DOES THIS MAN LOOK LIKE HE'S CAPABLE OF NOT BEING SEXY? Rafter's latest, Animal Feelings, drops April 13 on Asthmatic Kitty--really, it's not soon enough. Want more? Satiate your craving at Phrequency.com.

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