If you're thinking it has something to do with feminism and music, you'd be correct. An excerpt:

Everyone else calls it no wave, or new wave, or post-punk, but my clit calls it “Yes!” and “Please!” and “Oh God, give me more!”

It connects – we connect – and the music is ours and everything makes sense. Who cares what Ian Curtis wails underneath the sparse riffs of “Warsaw?” When it’s just me, and my clit, it’s just the music – guttural, torrential, exquisite.

Glamorous punks the Long Blondes won't "drive you home"

May 24, 2008, at Logan Square Auditorium

In case you missed it...

Cut Copy @ the Abbey Pub 

You didn't think I was done talking about Beach House did you?

The night was rapturous from the start.

In a different scenario, I could, perhaps, say exactly what I feel: in relationships, in opinions, in my writing.

I'm thinking about this for a number of scenarios, but what is running through my mind right now, as I sit hunched over at my desk is the experience that was Beach House at Schubas.

I must say that until recently, my knowledge of Beach House was limited as well. I knew they made glorious, dreamy pop music but that was it. I certainly hadn't heard any of it, and so, when I constantly read reviews that were infatuated with the record, the only thing I could do is turn the page or exit the screen.

That being said, I became unnaturally obsessed within the last couple of weeks or so. I promised to review the concert (and that should be up soon) but my familiarity was limited and like any good reporter, I needed to at least somewhat immerse myself in the subject for which I would be reporting.

And immerse I did.

The strangely addictive chorus of "Master of None" has run repeatedly through my head. I find myself humming it on the train, in the shower, while I'm cleaning. As well, I also find myself upset when I don't hear it.

The sweet closing melody of "Home Again" and the sing-song seduction of "D.A.R.L.I.N.G." is perfect, quiet, serene.

And then there's "Heart of Chambers" which to me seems like a strange choice for the lead-off single of their second album. It's beautiful, yes and haunting, yes. But is it too beautiful? Too haunting? Too heavy?

In any event, the night closed as the first notes of "Heart of Chambers" began and the only thought running through my mind was, "Is that it?" I think that now I've come to a point of strange connection with my music, so much so, that I expect everything everywhere all the time, especially regarding concerts and that, perhaps, even if the show is perfect, I still want more.

I can't complain. Only Beach House, it seems, can crack a smile on this face. 

 
What could have easily turned into musical trappings — heavy, game-oriented riffs, indecipherable lyrics, and vocalist Alice Glass’ piercing screams — transformed into the experimental electronic gem that is Crystal Castles’ self-titled debut. After immeasurable buzz on the blogosphere over earlier EPs and singles like the complicated, studio session-born “Alice Practice” or the delightfully spirited “Air War," the group effectively delivers an album without room for comparisons to other artists in the ever-growing electronica genre.

READ THE REST HERE 

Okay, I admit it, I like Vampire Weekend. I'm admitting this right before the backlash (or has it already begun?). I suppose that's okay for me since I wholeheartedly didn't like them for the following reasons: they wore really annoying, upper West side  OLD SKOOL PREPSTER clothing, they went to Columbia, they classified their music as "Upper West Side Soweto", their name is Vampire Weekend, everyone else liked them. Except, like maybe I kinda love them? And their lead singer (far right) is kinda (definitely!) cute (which is strange cause fakeprep or not, that's not my type AT ALL)?  And like, he also reminds me of this guy I went to high school with, but I'm definitely not gonna say who since people I went to high school with read this blog? And then they'll think I had a crush on [random guy I went to high school with], and yeah, that's kinda true? Even though, I'm SURE, if they think about it, they could figure it out, and maybe I will have to delete this entry? Seriously though, the lead singer (someone, anyone, tell me his name) has a really, really nice voice. It goes down smooth like milk chocolate Ovaltine, which I think the guys in Vampire Weekend drink un-ironically.

I don't really know what's going on anymore, self-wise. Last week, I downloaded Night Drive by Chromatics and I have been listening, obsessively. The group has a wonderfully surreal and serene quality to their music.

Some background info.

I joined Alla in the middle of the concert last weekend. HEALTH had already taken to the stage and for a few moments, I leaned against the railing for the upstairs lounge, transfixed. Finally making my way upstairs, I sat along the edge of a table she occupied with a brand new Chicago transplant. A group of people (two guys, one girl) eventually joined us as well, although neither of us knew them. One of the guys was that same blog guy and so, after trying, unsuccessfully to end the conversation, he still continued with trite anecdotes and, I can recognize it within myself some times, a self-consciousness so unbearable, I felt embarrassed.

In the beginning of the quarter, I purchased a package of moleskine notebooks. My total number is gross, and I'd rather not share, but I reasoned the purchase because they were so small, and so inconsequential and my money was my money. Of course, I did not know that my money would eventually turn into NO money, but that's besides the point.

During concerts, the ones where I can breathe and collect my thoughts, I keep a black moleskine notebook and BIC pencil on hand to take notes. It seemed silly, contrite at first, but then I recognized it was much more important to capture the mood when the mood was present, when I was most excited, immediately after a song when I can finally catch my breath and just savor the choice. That night, I scribbled incessantly. There was too much to say and perhaps not enough. Trying to avoid the unwelcome advances turned into an activity, a project. How many times could I use the word "animalistic" to describe HEALTH? How many times could I write "fierce" when trying to capture essence of Alice "My New Music Idol" Glass?

Apparently a lot.

"So, do you listen to Chromatics or Glass Candy?" he asked.

I sighed.

"Um, I've heard of them, but I'm not really familiar with their music," I said.

"Well, you should try them out," he replied.

I put the pen down in the middle of my notebook, turned slowly, and took a couple of seconds to test his nerves, and my own gall.

"Really." I said, more deadpan than a question, really.

I thought about it though, for the next couple of days. When reviewing my notes, at the top of the page I wrote "Chromatics" and "Glass Candy" and was confused. When did that happen? When did I LET that happen, more importantly?

On Friday evening, I downloaded the album. On Saturday morning, sitting underneath the dryer at a beauty shop on the West side of Chicago, my tiredness caught up to me. The night before was long, not nearly as long as my 5AM the week before, but long all the same. Chromatics, with their illuminating lyrics and harmonies, kept me at ease, with peace.

On Monday night I rode the train back to Lincoln Park and listened to Chromatics. The train car was relatively empty because I narrowly escaped the rush of students from night classes. The lighting seemed extra severe and I felt prompted to look down, to focus my attention on the lines and creases of my hands, the wrinkles in my black and gray dress, and the waxed train floor.

In the window seat, the vantage point is either picturesque or depressing. Still, on the redline, in the tunnel, I took my place and watched as the lights above flickered through each mile in the city. "Running Up That Hill" came on and I barely caught myself. I began to mouth the words, the song a favorite.

In the window, my reflection was a little less empty than other late night train rides. I locked eyes with a young man leaning against a pole. 

Someone caught me.

Perhaps not as devastating as an afternoon with Daft Punk, there was still a level of embarrassment that could easily be had. I looked back up again. I shrugged my shoulders. And then, he nodded.  

Even from my initial vantage point of the second floor balcony at the Abbey, I felt enamored with Glass. The strobe-like lighting and Glass’ bouncing and writhing on the stage made the young singer reminiscent of a young Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The scene was dark and moody, yet somehow energetic. Like a severe goth rave, Glass and Kath took command, letting the emotional screams and synths of each song speak to the audience.

READ THE REST HERE 

I love Yeasayer, but perhaps only in concert. A lot of times, artists don't translate on to the stage, and I suppose Yeasayer is the same. Except, listening to their album and then seeing them perform live, as I did for Venus Zine, you realize that the translation is in fact a good thing. What is on the cd is very much like and wonderfully unlike what you see on stage. I don't remember being so enraptured by a concert. My attention was completely devoted to the four boys from Brooklyn and with good reason. They didn't fail to disappoint.

I love the Kills, perhaps obsessively so. I always appreciated the Kills in the past and listened to their music on occasion. I never really understood the comparisons to the White Stripes (I suppose they were only built around the fact that they are a minimalist boy-girl duo) because they always reminded me of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or PJ Harvey. Anyway, I downloaded their new album about two weeks ago and it quickly became one of the most played records on my iTunes. This is not a joke. I have almost all of the lyrics memorized. There were days in class in which I clamored for the session to end, just so I can put my headphones on and listen to "Black Balloon" or "U.R.A. Fever" or "Tape Song". It's addictive, and it is because of this FACT that Pitchfork will skewer it.

I love Robyn, yes that Robyn, from the late 1990s. Thinking about it now, Robyn was a pre-cursor to Britney Spears, which only makes me feel old, and I am only 20 years old. With that said, Robyn has embraced an electro-pop spirit that suits her well and she has, effortlessly, created the sort of dreamy, enchanting pop songs that the Swedes seem to do produce naturally. "With Every Heartbeat" is beautiful, true and true.

Free Blood makes me excited and I can't believe that they have been around for so long and not released an album. Featuring former !!! member John Pugh, they sound like the perfect combination of !!!, Celebration and Gang Gang Dance. It's dancey, but not really. It's not what one would consider traditionally dance oriented but there's always an addictive beat, especially in "The Royal Family". I'm pretty surprised that they haven't had more hype, especially with their pedigree, but I guess you can never predict what the climate of popular indie music will be. It seems as though most blogs are still getting off on Vampire Weekend so perhaps Free Blood will just have to continue to fly under the radar that flies under the radar and make those emotive, animalistic songs that I love.

Crystal Castles is so hard to classify that I'm not even going to attempt it. They are so futuristic and ahead of their times and complicated that it blows my mind but it's no surprise that they have become so popular, especially with the more electro and dance oriented indie set because their music is challenging and it challenges you to think outside of the box and question what is good taste, and even, truly, what is good music. I'm (hopefully!) reviewing Crystal Castles in concert this Wednesday for the magazine.