LIVE PERFORMANCE REVIEWS
PROTOTYPES
Prototypes don’t just seem like they’re from another country; it’s more like they’re from another planet. With an amazing brew of New Wave, techno, hip-hop, and (dare I say it) rockabilly elements, these French exports serve up a delicious full course meal of transcendent dance pop in the span of less than a half hour. The hooks to each of the songs are insanely catchy, injecting an IV into the vein which contains nothing short of pure, unfiltered adrenaline. An impressive quality of Prototypes, aside from the obvious caffeinated joy ride of their sound, is that despite the fact that their music is steeped in electronic synth beats, this group is actually a band. They possess an acute ability to perform live instrumentation, a refreshing variation of the sample-based structure of the studio versions that permeate their song catalog, and the array of instruments utilized through the set (from an harmonica to a tambourine, for example) accentuates that they have the potential to experiment outside the electro pop arena. The music is not the only captivating force en-Rapture-ing the audience. Singer Bubble Star struts the stage like a revamped incarnation of Deborah Harry, and the parallels are obvious. She brings a distinctively feminine sense of style to the rock and roll boys club (that French accent doesn’t hurt her sex appeal either), but at the same time she can get down and dirty and sweat profusely along with her male band mates. Star’s enticing looks and indomitable charisma prove to be the only worthy distraction from her band’s infectious groove. – Justin Thomas
https://www.baeblemusic.com/concert-video/red-7—sxsw/prototypes.html
When first laying eyes on the Films, you may rightfully mistake them for a clone of “garage-pop” band Jet, or a group who similarly apes the recent craze for 70’s rock throwbacks. This assumption will gradually melt away though, as the Films’ set progresses. They are not in fact a generic imitation of an era long since passed, but instead an amalgamation of several sounds and styles spanning rock’s rich history. The first song, “Strange Hands”, produces a curiously in-tune racket with glam rock over tones and a signature Rascals keyboard style, making this band out to be a New York Dolls update that can actually play their instruments. The Films’ sound is derived from the heart of the mid-60s American garage movement (albeit then being molested by the mid-70s roar of New York CBGB’s-era punk), and yet their stage presence evokes flashbacks to British Invasion acts such as the Dave Clark Five or the Kinks. This band rocks with a reckless abandon and oozing confidence which gives the impression that their amps are plugged into the vitality of the Stones during their prime. The chemistry between lead vocalist/guitarist Michael Trent and guitarist Kenneth Harris is akin to the antics of a young Mick and Keith, while the aloof Brian Jones of the band, bassist Jake Sinclair, nods away and looks strangely similar to late ’90s MTV VJ Jesse Camp (yes…remember him?). And at the center of the madness, the steady drumming of percussionist Adam Blake supplies the crucial heartbeat that pumps the band’s eclectic and engaging riffs. All in all, a band to watch out for. – Justin Thomas
DIOS MALOS
This band sounds like a contemporary version of the tripped out mid-60s musings of the Zombies, only after having been married to the distinctive tribal rhythms of early Santana. Each musician in Dios Malos’ line-up plays a distinctive role in elevating the band into the cosmos; keyboardist Jimmy Cabeza DeVaca in particular accentuates the group’s acid-tinged sensibilities. Meanwhile, drummer Jackie Monzon is entertaining and seriously gets into his craft. At times it is hard to distinguish him between parallels to the “Animal” character from The Muppet Show, which is innocent enough, or the more intense comparison to a pre-meltdown performance from Pink Floyd founder Syd Barrett. Perhaps it would just be wiser to christen him Dios’ very own Keith Moon. And then there are lead singers and guitarists Kevin and Joel Morales, whose ear-piercing vocals provide soothing retribution to the ascending musical orgasm which nearly drowns out their harmonizing. The band’s loose, psychedelic arrangements are befitting to the overall feel of their set, which bounces back and forth between acoustic, sunny Beach Boys harmonies to the more longing, heartsick emotion of Thom Yorke and Radiohead. Add all this to the fact that each song flows seamlessly into the next, and you have one enigmatic musical vision. Trippy, indeed. – Justin Thomas
Atmospheric. That is the initial word which springs to mind when witnessing this collective’s magnetic set. At the outset of their appearance, the intensity of the group’s subtle mastery of instrument interplay is almost too much to bear, until the grandiose climax to this torturous build up at long last unleashes onto the unsuspecting crowd an enormous and consuming wall of sound. It’s pretty breathtaking, and this is only the opening song. The chemistry between each musician exercises a dichotomy that gives the illusion that all the instruments are playing in unison, all while each contributing their own unique solo improvisations. It is clear that this is a band which has honed its chords into a sound which is both classical and postmodern (take the feel of Evanescence-minus Amy Lee’s vocals-and pair it with any of Bach or Beethoven’s compositions), and offered it up to the masses with a harmonic delivery which is deliriously all-encompassing. It’s hard not to walk away from this performance without being in a mesmerized trance. – Justin Thomas
Oohlas is an interesting band to behold. Right away, from the set’s opening riffs, the distinction of their inspirations is apparent; in their use of guitar echo, one recalls defining techniques of U2 guitarist the Edge, which evokes memories of the “Joshua Tree” era. Then suddenly, a jolt forward into the early Nineties post-punk alternative scene is thrust upon the audience with the introduction of the group’s rhythm section. A final ingredient, the wounded yet catchy vocals of lead singer Ollie Stone, completes this transformation, a send up of sounds specifically reminiscent of the Riot Grrl movement from the Pacific Northwest. Without question, Stone’s onstage swagger and captivating presence emulates the sentiment of Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill, and yet her band’s overall sound exercises slightly more melodic pop in the vein of mid-90s alt-rockers the Breeders. Ollie’s voice, regardless of the ferocity of her delivery, has a sweetness to it which makes the poisoned pill of her tortured emotion easier to swallow. It is the most intriguing instrument to comprise this band’s sonic canon. – Justin Thomas
SPINTO BAND
The elements incorporated into this band’s sound should not make any sense alongside each other, but they do. Infusing backwoods jangle with electro pop and an overall jam band sensibility, the Spinto Band conjure up a refreshing mix that simultaneously emancipates your body and your soul. In the course of the first two songs alone, one can detect influences ranging from the experimental quirkiness of bands like Primus, to the jagged power chord riffs associated with Nirvana and their punk brethren. During the performance of the song “Needlepoint”, the band’s keyboardist interjects a new wave synth section which is reminiscent of early Eighties staples Blondie. The Spinto Band glides seamlessly through this wide array of arrangements and influences, bobbing their way through their set list with the audience mimicking their onstage euphoria. With such utterly energetic performances such as this, the Spinto Band proves that it is one of the acts from the indie pool that has the prowess to go the distance. – Justin Thomas
ALBUM REVIEWS
DAPHYA: “DO IT YOURSELF” (2010)
Over the past 12 months, in light of the “Monster” success of Nicki Minaj, the pre-eminence of the female MC, long considered to be a dormant facet of urban music and culture, has been resurrected in the hip hop conversation. While all of the hype surrounding this supposed “greatest female who ever done it” (sorry Drake) has enraptured the pop culture masses, behind the scenes there has been an impressive movement of femcees that have been keeping the eternal flame of female rappers burning over the last decade, from Jean Grae and Tiye Phoenix to Invincible and Eternia. However, with the new decade, in the aftermath of this brave new world trail-blazed by the commercial dominance of Minaj, the stage has been set for the perhaps the most talented new female voice in rap to pick up the baton: Daphya.
Daphya strides the line between all of the hallmarks of hip hop music, both past and present. Born in the belly of hip hop’s birthplace, The Bronx, but relocating to New Jersey and spending much of her formative years in the suburbs, she possesses the cut-throat lyricism and sensibility of a young woman who was raised in the inner city, which lends to a traditionally venerable street-credibility; at the same time, she exudes the irreverent spirit and eclectic musings that have lent to the ascendance of a vast array of new school artists such as B.O.B. The result is an interesting palette that is rooted in hardcore rap, but also draws upon the styling of a multitude of genres and sounds. Making her name on the scene as the winner of Eminem’s Vibe “Stan” contest and subsequently being featured on his Shade 45 satellite radio station, Daphya has generated considerable street buzz throughout 2009 and 2010. The release of her mixtape “Do It Yourself” should establish her as a reputable force to be reckoned with in the underground hip hop community, as well as a strong contender for future pop stardom.
Opening the mixtape with a brief but memorable verse over the “Pushin’” instrumental (“I’m hot/not one of these hoes who come and they clothes drop/suckin’ cock like they want the gum in a Blowpop”), the album begins in earnest with the track “Afraid To Dream”, which finds Daphya spinning an inspirational anthem reminiscent of Eminem’s “Not Afraid”, encouraging listeners to never give up on their aspirations and reflecting on a period when she was at a creative low and the process it took for her to once again find her muse. Right away, she lays her impressive talents on display; on top of the verbal dexterity and masterful delivery on the mic that she effortlessly (and often relentlessly) demonstrates, it also becomes overwhelmingly clear that Daphya also has a formidable singing voice, and is capable of crafting catchy and often engrossing hooks that remain on repeat in your head long after first listen.
These attributes are recurring on many of the mixtape’s standout tracks; on the sultry and seductive “Waiting”, Daphya evokes the spirit of the late Aaliyah and coos for an intimate encounter, while “Unthinkable” (which samples Alicia Keys) lays bare a sensitivity and vulnerability that is enticing to both the ear and the imagination. It almost makes one wonder what a Daphya album of singular ballads would sound like; at their best, these songs exhibit an artist in league with Drake when it comes to creating pop and R&B songcraft that seamlessly interweave with the album’s more abrasive rap elements.
That isn’t to say that the hip hop cuts are devoid of ear-catching melody and insatiable hooks; they are in fact just the opposite, as the rap that Daphya engages in is far from generic. “Bad” is steeped in the spirit of ‘80s bubblegum pop, but hits harder than anything Toni Basil or The Waitresses could have mustered in their day. She also anticipates the uphill obstacles that await her during her projected climb to the top of the hip hop elite. “Hatin’ They Life” turns the spotlight away from her (albeit briefly), and onto all of her detractors and wannabe emulators that watch her ascendance from the sidelines with an enviable eye. Meanwhile, the freestyle of “Stained” has this MC geared up in full battle mode, as she anticipates the backlash of established industry artists and acknowledges that today’s rap royalty will be resistant to relinquish their stronghold on the music audience in the face of her inevitable rise.
The best three tracks on the album are saved for last. The album’s lead-off single, “My Image”, is both defiant and self-deprecating. The quirky and purposely disorienting sound of this pummeling instrumental provides an appropriate backdrop for Daphya’s simultaneous vaunting and criticism of herself; “She’s nuts/so clearly off her rocker/chubby Puerto-Rican with her hair like Chaka” she exclaims, poking fun at the fact that she is fully aware that her unconventional persona will not be easily accepted by certain circles within the hip hop community. This sense of inner conflict only broadens her appeal, and it is exemplified even further by the succeeding tracks.
Immediately after the middle finger lyrical assault of “My Image”, Daphya strips off her protective shell and switches gears into the tender sentiment of “Friend Zone”, arguably the best song on the album. This heartfelt and poignant track offers the most honest and revealing glimpse into her struggles with identity and acceptance during her adolescence, and it is this human element, beyond the invincible posturing of her exterior, which make Daphya, like all great performers, so endearing as an artist. This pause for reflection continues with the closing track, “The Last Supper”. “When you got the food, they be all around the table/but when you dyin’ of starvation, no one’s there to save you”, she laments on her final verse of the song. She hasn’t even made her official entry into the behemoth that is the hip hop music industry, and weariness is already showing cracks in her self-proclaimed impenetrable armor. In spite of it all, Daphya is a fighter, and vowing to never look back, she seems determined to shed the disappointments of her past and embrace her future as potentially one of this generation’s great MCs, female or otherwise. Let’s hope that she can weather the storm.
– Justin Thomas
FILM REVIEWS
“GIMMIE SHELTER” (1970) Dir. The Maysles Brothers
In the Maysles brothers’ documentary “Gimme Shelter”, time and space are cleverly manipulated to tell the story of the tragedy at the Altamont concert, but from a different perspective than the traditional, linear “beginning, middle, and end”. This makes for a more interesting sequencing of events, as well as a heightened sense of imminent tragedy, which is one of the factors deemed most crucial to a narrative, according to the prose of Aristotle.
“Gimmie Shelter” opens with the Rolling Stones in their element, performing onstage to the adoration of hundreds of their rabid fans. This seemingly typical music documentary takes a sharp and dramatic turn, however, when the editors cut to a scene where the band members are seated in the editing room, faces sunken in and obviously solemn, listening to reports of the chaos that had ensued at their concert and watching playback footage that the film crew had captured of the melee. From this juncture forward, the viewing audience already is made aware of the dramatic climax of the film before they are made witness to the visual details of what actually happened.
This structural pattern repeats itself throughout the story arc of the film, which bounces back and forth from depicting the development and organization of the ill-fated concert, shots of the band backstage and playing live, of them laying down tracks in a recording studio, and of media coverage of the eagerly anticipated show. This may be misconstrued as being unstructured, but in fact this film is brilliantly constructed because it keeps pulling you back into that editing room, where the band members all sit and gravely review the footage captured by the Maysles brothers. In this regard, the Maysles and their team are not only manipulating time, but they are also manipulating space, because they are transporting the audience to different places, in time, to tie together the various elements that best illustrate the passage of events. The editing room has in fact become the foundation by which the rest of the film’s story can be built on, and it provides the groundwork for the plot’s intense climax.
The Maysles are masters of executing what Henri Cartier Bresson called “The Picture Story”; that is, the images that they capture exemplify the content of any given event “which is in the process of unfolding, and to communicate impressions”. In the instance of “Gimmie Shelter”, this would specifically be referenced to crowd interaction and the various faces and expressions in the audience. As the concert progresses through time, the photographic reportage that is employed by the film crew demonstrates how the mood of the crowd and the overall vibes of the evening eventually mutate into a dark cloud, one which enshrouds what was supposed to be a peaceful gathering and doom it to become a litany of disaster.
The specific frames that stand out to this viewer as perfectly encapsulating the degenerate spirit of this event are captured in both the fanatical actions of the audience (many of them probably spaced out of their minds on acid and other hallucinogens), and the even more disturbing reaction to this mania by the concert’s “security”, the Hell’s Angels. There was a great shot of one of the Hell’s Angels staring with a disturbing intensity at Mick Jagger as he performed; one is not sure whether or not he is keeping an eye on him to protect the singer from deranged fans on the loose, or whether he himself harbors such disdain for the man that he would inflict pain on Jagger himself. Later in the film, from that same viewpoint, a fan standing directly behind the Hell’s Angel with his eye on Jagger, appears to begin having a psychological episode, and once made aware of this, the Hell’s Angel and his fellow bikers remove the man from the stage before he explodes. As the camera pans to the audience right at the foot of the stage, you can see from the grim, bewildered expressions on their faces that this has been a night that has gone terribly wrong (one girl even has tears streaming down her face; it is not known whether the tears are related to the chaos surrounding her or not, but the Maysles have utilized her emotion here to accentuate the paranoia beginning to engulf the audience).
“Gimmie Shelter” is an amazing film, not only because it managed to capture the death of the dream that had defined much of the 1960s, but also because it is a prime example of how space and time can be used in a documentary to dramatic effect.
– Justin Thomas
Just The Artist 