Last year at this time, a talentless music blogger named Jeff Weiss from L.A. wrote about Deerhunter being the worst live band he’s ever seen:
Deerhunter’s live show reminds me of the first scene in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, where Bill and Ted awkwardly flail at their instruments while bitching elliptically about the necessity of making a triumphant video to get Eddie Van Halen to teach them how to play guitar. Nowadays, you don’t even need a triumphant video, you just need a good Pitchfork review, which is what the Atlanta noise-rock outfit Deerhunter got earlier this year. Suddenly, in an Emperor’s New Clothing–esque turn, a group whose biggest discernible talent is its knack for self-promotion became one of the biggest buzz bands in indie rock. Let’s hope that, in the span between now and the Fuck Yeah Fest, George Carlin can drop down to Earth in a phone booth and teach them how to no longer be bogus.
Mr. Weiss represents the only reason Fishpork exists. Sure, it’s a great place to keep a journal of all the great shows and records I listen to. However, music is subjective and ALL reviews are ultimately meaningless. The only thing that interests me is writing about things I enjoy. For those bloggers who choose to write about how bad they think a band sucks, I feel bad for your shallow personalities and outlook on the world. Music can heal you. And if you were part of the crowd on Friday night at the Music Hall of Williamsburg in Brooklyn, you experienced this first hand. I recently read a review of Deerhunter that stated the band can only be listened to in a state of intoxication (with your drug of choice). This statement is rather offensive to me. Deerhunter makes music that replaces your drug of choice. Their songs, especially when played live, are a revelation and are changing the way I perceive music.
Peter and I arrived at the Music Hall of Williamsburg in Brooklyn toward the end of New Times Viking’s opening set. They sounded great, but we were experiencing too much anticipation to fully comprehend. As the set ended and the techs began to set up for the headlining act, we made our way to the front of the stage. This was a completely different experience than the previous night at the NIN show at the House of Blues in Atlantic City. At that show, we were in the midst of the most obnoxious crowd of all-time. Nine Inch Nails’ fans are notorious for booing opening acts, and this was no different. It was a shame that a very good live band like Health had to deal with a crowd (only there to hear “Closer”) with absolutely no taste in music. Fortunately, Trent Reznor’s knack for choosing opening acts has been a major source of discovery for me, including TV on the Radio, Autolux, Saul Williams, Crystal Castles, and most recently Deerhunter on the first leg of his current tour. Enough about how much NIN fans suck.
Before Friday night I suspected that Deerhunter was less about Bradford Cox than I originally imagined. That inclination was squashed immediately after the ubiquitous frontman took the stage. Cox has been known to occasionally wear dresses on stage, a habit he admits was picked up from Kurt Cobain. “Krist Novoselic and Kurt Cobain kissed, and Kurt wore dresses. There’s no way to overestimate the influence Nirvana had on me,” he admits. The Deerhunter frontman was the center of attention, not because of his extroverted personality, but because of his play on his heavily reverbed and distorted lead guitar, xylophone, and drowned out vocals. Cox even sang the lyrics and played lead guitar on “Agoraphobia,” which features guitarist and Cox’s best friend, Locket Pundt, on vocals on the album.
The show included an epic performance of new fan favorite “Nothing Ever Happened,” which included a mind-numbing guitar solo from Cox and impeccable attention to detail by the rest of the players. The three guitar arrangement on many of the songs creates a sound that relies on noisy, droning textures and borrows from bands like My Bloody Valentine and Liars. But Deerhunter avoids what has already been done and creates their own sound. The soundscapes they create contain other elements not present in those bands.
As good as Deerhunter are and as inspired as they are to release meaningful music, it’s important to keep in mind how young they are (Cox is 26). That youthful exhuberence showed Friday as Cox joked all night, especially with new guitarist and old high school friend, Whitney Petty. Cox asked the audience if they’d rather see Whitney play the blues on her guitar or do a hand stand (Petty was a cheerleader in high school and has been known to wear her uniform during shows). Before the crowd could respond, she was in the middle of the stage on her hands. Petty then snuck up behind Cox and played a blues riff on his guitar. The antics hit their climax when Petty proceeded to lift the lanky Cox on her shoulders, as the crowd stood by and admired.
A highlight included Cox taking two song requests to end the show. The band played the first song shouted from the crowd, which was “Heatherwood,” from their second album Cryptograms. Kudos to the tech crew and sound mixers at the Music Hall of Williamsburg. The sound was perfect, and the band sounded as close to the album as one could hope. Cox’s lyrics were completely distinguishable from the guitar twangs and light percussion, as he repeated the song’s chorus, “was not seen again.” The band was not actually planning on taking another request, but Cox coaxed his band mates into it. At one point, he approached drummer Moses Archuleta and practically begged him to play another song. The second request came from a guy standing right next to me, and he must have been reading my mind. After a false start, Cox admitted the band was unprepared to play the song but soon began an amazing rendition of “Operation.” Cox spit out the agonizingly dark lyrics, “Cover your ears, you’re not gonna like what you’re gonna hear, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
Deerhunter’s show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg in Brooklyn on Friday night was the best concert I’ve attended in my lifetime. Although I probably go to upwards of twenty shows a year, I honestly don’t think anything else has come close to that musical experience. Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs was quoted as saying Deerhunter’s live show borders on “a religious experience,” and I agree. Doesn’t this speak volumes about how music is a personal experience?
Mr. Cox responded to Mr. Weiss’ blog post with an exchange that was too priceless not to include here:
it’s bradford! from deerhunter! i was just wondering if maybe you
could give us some quick EMERGENCY lessons on our instruments
before our set sunday. we are kind of nervous… you know L.A. = big
city = could be our big break. we don’t want to look stupid so if you
could just teach the guitar players some basic power chords or
something it would really help us out. i’ll be busy giving blowjobs to other
more talented (notable) music journalists so as to keep those good reviews
rolling in.look forward to seeing you this weekend
your pal,
brad
The entire exchange is worth your time and can be read here. Although he’s freaked out by dissonant hipsters in the front row of shows, Bradford Cox is inspired by kindness and doesn’t care what you think about his music. “I don’t give a fuck what they say about me, because I’m a white-trash queer who might live to be 30 if I’m lucky,” says Cox. Although Cox’s lyrics are often used as therapy for an ostracized childhood, some of the motivation behind the music is physical healing (see Fishpork review of Microcastle/Weird Era Cont.). He makes music for fans who need a soundtrack to cope and is just trying to make as much of it as he can while he’s still alive. This is good news for the music world!
Rolling Stone has uploaded an exclusive acoustic performance of Bradford Cox singing “Never Stops” outside of a convenience store in Brooklyn hours before the show: http://www.rollingstone.com/videos/video/24261318/breaking_deerhunter.
http://deerhuntertheband.blogspot.com
http://myspace.com/deerhunter
When I first listened to TV On The Radio’s latest album, Dear Science, it didn’t hit me. I was in the middle of a huge Of Montreal infatuation and just wasn’t ready to digest it yet. One week later, I was blown away by the textures and the contours of the Dear Science landscape. Knowing I had a ticket to their Philly show made me one happy man.
Producer and guitarist David Andrew Sitek’s commanding guitar playing set the mood of the show with intricate rhythms that blended perfectly with Malone’s “Golden Age” funk riffs and his slick lead on “Halfway Home.” The show also featured a live horn section which slithered beneath the mix artfully. Jaleel Bunton’s drums were tight, and he often looked to Malone to sync up when adding some impromptu drum fills.
After the band opened the encore with the melodic and seductive “Love Dog,” each band member put down their guitars and picked up a different type of persussion instrument to bang on, much like their set two years before. With Malone on wood block, Sitek on water-tom drum and Adeblimpe on one-handed symbol, the band went into the Return to Cookie Mountain track “A Method.” As the song winded down, Sitek pounded on his drum, lighting up the stage with a liquid fireworks display before the band went into ”Staring At The Sun” concluding a brilliant evening of musical foreplay.
