By: David Schultz
Photos: Jason Fuiman


Willett. Russell, bassist Matt Maust and drummer Matt Aveiro may not be entirely house trained once the house lights dim but they no longer prowl the stage like untamed feral beasts. (Not that Aveiro ever did from behind his drum kit). While this may be a symptom of them having more room on the bigger stages, it’s also illustrative of their maturity. Making fine use of the space, the larger set allows them to incorporate elements of Maust’s artwork, a significant component of their image, with video screens showing images derivative of the bassist’s photography. They also manage to work in some new sounds, most notably the Beck sounding fuzzy organ tones on “Audience,” one of the fine tracks off Behave Yourself, their recently released EP.


Fully rounded bass and surgically incisive guitar licks notwithstanding, the increasingly confident lead vocals of Willett, who sings his unguarded, literate lyrics with an urgency and passion matched by few, may be the most compelling aspect of the band. An idiosyncratic group, their covers are usually rare and often quite diverse, spanning from remarkably adept Sam Cooke adaptations to slight appropriations of Tom Waits. With the help of an impromptu horn section made up of Elvis Perkins In Dearland’s Nick Kinsey and Wyndham Boylan-Garnett (at least that’s who it seemed to be), they offered up a powerful version of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Long As I Can See The Light” that saw Willett wring every bit of the song’s yearning. Of course, as long as there were guests on stage capable of making some noise, they careened into a raucous version of “St. John,” the prison gang chant that typically brings down the house.

Labels: Cold War Kids

The Langerado Music Festival is upping its game. While it has been a significant festival the last several years, this year's line up seems more diverse and an attempt to push Langerado into the upper festival echelon. Modest Mouse is the latest addition to the annual Florida gathering joining Snoop Dogg, Death Cab for Cutie, Ryan Adams and The Cardinals as some of the marquee names.

The rest of the line-up isn't too shabby either. Highlights include Broken Social Scene (great with or without Feist), Cold War Kids, Flogging Molly, Mute Math, Gym Class Heroes, The Pogues and Matisyahu. The Zach Brown band will also bring their anthem "Chicken Fried" to represent the country set while rubbing shoulders alongside festival mainstays like Umprey's McGee, Robert Randolph and the Family Band, Michael Franti and Steel Pulse.

Besides some new names, there is also a new location. This year Langerado moves to Bicentennial Park in Miami on March 6, 7 and 8th. Tickets are on sale now.

Labels: Broken Social Scene, Cold War Kids, Death Cab, Festival News, Gym Class Heroes, Modest Mouse, Robert Randolph, Ryan Adams, Slightly Stoopid, Umphrey's McGee

By: Rinjo Njori

A surprise "last minute" show this past Wednesday at the Mercury Lounge taught me two things about the Cold War Kids and the opener, Kuroma. Hank Sullivant, Kuroma’s front man, does the best glam Bowie/Bolan impersonation I have ever seen and the female fan base of the Cold War Kids are a tough and loyal bunch. The Cold War Kids announced this show a few weeks ago in advance of their Australian tour and subsequent April 3rd New York City date at Terminal 5. More accustomed to playing larger venues, they stressed more than a few times that they were glad they could put together this small show.

Opening the night was former Whig bassist and MGMT touring guitarist Hank Sullivant's Kuroma . The Athens based Kuroma’s style ranges from the late 80s sound of Mother Love Bone to the more accessible blues elements of Mark Lanegan. Kuroma’s supporting cast was a pretty interesting bunch but, unless you knew the band, unknown. In addition to some zippy keys, including the lead on "I Was A Rat", the keyboard player handled double duty, assisting Sullivant with tuning his guitar in between songs. The bassist seemed to have a Rickenbacker almost as big as himself but was lock step with the drummer whose cymbal kept tipping to the crowd. The two most notable songs were the fairly straightforward "Alexander Martin" which featured the best vocals of the night.

As engaging as Kuroma was for their 30 minute plus set, nothing could prepare the crowd for “I Was The Rat.” On the last song, Sullivant dropped his guitar, peeled off his jacket and morphed into what can be best described as the bastard son of David Bowie, Freddie Mercury and Marc Bolan. Sullivant bounced around the stage in his skin tight jeans and tank top to the piano and drum driven song. His red hair bouncing around as he pointed at his eyes, the audience and busted out an array of dance moves. If the audience hadn't paid attention during the previous 30 minutes, they definitely paid attention now. I am still stunned by the performance and can't decide whether it was brilliance or just a flash of insanity. At least it gave the audience something to ponder for the next 15 minutes until the Cold War Kids appeared.

Just before the Cold War Kids took the stage there was definitely a different vibe, a certain amount of tension in the room. A majority of that bad vibe and attitude was coming from the better half. Luckily the Cold War Kids were able to soothe the situation with their unique brand of R&B meets rock meets alternative. Not a minute after they their first song started, the crowd literally came under the bands spell and loosened up. Their recent release, Loyalty to Loyalty, might not have met garnered the same universal praise as Robbers & Cowards but it was clear that even in this small New York City venue that this Fullerton foursome has an adoring and rabid fan base. “We Used to Vacation” drew the most inspired audience reaction/participation as everyone who knew the lyrics ceased lip syncing and joined Nathan Willet on the chorus. Johnnie Russell and Matt Maust were quite literally the centerpiece of the show. The guitarist and bassist were quite literally rams locking horns or drifting from their side of the stage into each other as the music dictated. Russell traded a pair of guitars when Willet could tear himself away from the pair of keyboards that flanked the band on either side of the stage. The band ran through “Hang Me Up to Dry,” “Saint John” and “Tell Me In The Morning". At one point, not too far into the set, the audience was screaming for "Saint John" due to the singalong friendly chorus but the Cold War Kids had a plan and stuck to it. Like “We Used To Vacation,” the audience was quick to make the entire evening a group effort. For close to an hour the band had this small crowd in the palm of their hand with the only lack of attention occurring when people checked their cell phones to see if their picture came out. The only notable track from Loyalty to Loyalty was “Something Is Not Right With Me” which garnered a boost from HBO's Entourage last fall. The short song garnered the most enthusiastic reaction from the crowd other than the Robbers & Cowards tracks. The whole set was pretty economical since it clocked in at under an hour, give or take a few minutes. The band though didn’t waste a minute of that time with needless side conversations amongst themselves or random audience members. They played and delivered what this clearly eager crowd came to see.

Labels: Cold War Kids, Kuroma, Live Reviews

By: David Schultz

It wasn’t that long ago that a multitude of people jumped on the Cold War Kids bandwagon with even more climbing on after the release of Robbers & Cowards, which culled the best of the band’s past EPs onto one brilliant release. On the aptly named Loyalty To Loyalty, the Kids are separating the wheat of their true fans from the chaff of the fair weather variety. The Kids surely aren’t abandoning their idiosyncratic artsy-Bauhaus, saloon hall style, but for significant stretches of Loyalty, most notably on “Avalanche In B,” Nathan Willett’s unguarded vocals sound too much like an aging Bavarian whore moaning about the past in a decrepit cabaret. It’s enough to draw concern that there may be more to “Something Is Not Right With Me” than meets the eye. Fear not though: as they proved last week at New York City’s Webster Hall and Brooklyn’s Music Hall of Williamsburg, there’s nothing wrong. In fact, to borrow an overused phrase, the Cold War Kids are quite alright.

Working off the same set list at both shows, Willett, guitarist Jonnie Russell, bassist Matt Maust and drummer Matt Aveiro reestablished themselves as a fantastic live act throwing themselves into each song with an unparalleled level of commitment. Leaving the hausfrau dirges out of the set, Willett opened the show banging out the boozy piano riffs of “Every Valley Is Not A Lake” and “We Used To Vacation” before getting to his feet for Loyalty tracks most reminiscent of Robbers & Cowards, “Mexican Dogs” and “Something Is Not Right With Me.” Kinetically and purposefully striding and dancing around the stage, Russell and Maust cranked out the Kids’ menacing and desolate, back alley melodies with a committed seriousness. Their peripatetic style of prowling the stage, bouncing and rebounding off each other only serves to enhance the mood. Without ever cracking a smile, they convey intense joy. They also have a sense for the theatrical, shutting off the house lights for “Robbers” and using flashlights to illuminate the audience from the darkness of the stage.

The Velvet Underground fringes of “Quiet Please” have evolved over time and “St. John” with its modified prison chain gang chanting has transformed into the ultimate finale. Otherwise, the biggest changes to longtime staples concern the reaction they receive. The crowd pops wildly upon hearing Maust play the pulsing bass line that opens “Hang Me Up To Dry” and the opening piano chords of “We Used To Vacation” prompts the same rallying welcome. Plus, the crowd sings along with every word.

Southern singer-songwriter AA Bondy opened both shows and at Webster Hall had the unenviable task of playing to a crowd more interested in themselves than the fine music emanating from the stage. A true shame; from the opening harmonica blast of “Witness Blues,” Bondy cast the pearls of his American Hearts album before proverbial swine. That a crowd purportedly knowledgeable enough to be at a Cold War Kids show couldn’t be bothered to collectively stifle themselves for Bondy’s set belied the poseur culture that permeates all too many shows. Counteracting the talkative crowd, Bondy incorporated drums and an extra guitar to add muscle and sinew to the framework of songs like “Vice Rag” and “American Hearts” before tearing through a potent version of “I Killed Myself When I Was Young.”

On paper, the two weekday gigs seemed quite similar. However the Williamsburg show had an electricity to it that was a direct result of the enthusiastic Brooklyn crowd. The New York City audience seemed to be there because they heard the Cold War Kids show might be a cool place to be; the Brooklyn crowd was there because they knew it was the cool place to be. It’s the difference between being amidst a crowd too selfish and egotistic to recognize and respect the music being played for them and being in one that can prioritize for the hour and a half that the band they came to see is on stage. After the Brooklyn crowd spent the encore break engaging in a rowdy soccer cheer – which didn’t escape the band’s attention – it became evident that New York City may no longer be the real Mecca of East Coast rock and roll and the best audiences may be located a few miles to the South. As a New Yorker who likes to look down his nose at that other borough, this revelation is quite disconcerting. Given that the Kids dragged out the ending of “St. John,” seemingly enjoying the moment too much to end the show, they might have sensed this shift as well.

Labels: AA Bondy, Cold War Kids

By: David Schultz
Photo Credit: "Joy and Misery"

From the time they released their first EP, Cold War Kids have found themselves warmly embraced by the ever-critical network of music blogs that are always on the hunt for the next big thing. You would be hard pressed to find a band that would willingly thumb their nose at the effusive praise the blogosphere can generate but while the benefits can be tremendous, lurking underneath is a knotty conundrum. In the new wired community, a band can, and often does, amass a fervent and outspoken fan base long before the mainstream catches on. What’s a band to do while waiting for the rest of the world to get on board? If they continue on with the same songs and stage show that originally got them noticed, they risk incurring the wrath of their current fans who will grumble about the band getting stale and, if they have short attention spans, abruptly move on. On the other hand, if they evolve too quickly, newer fans never get exposed to the experience that generated the buzz in the first place and are left wondering what the big fuss was ever about.

A cerebral and thoughtful band, the Cold War Kids have created the blueprint on how to traverse this relatively uncharted territory. About a year and a half ago, I was turned on to the CWK by a friend (who will love this acknowledgment of his role and likely never let me forget it now that it’s in print) and first saw them in the summer of 2006 when they opened a Tapes ‘n Tapes headlined indie-rock bill at the Bowery Ballroom. Cramming two hours worth of energy into a half hour set, bassist Matt Maust and guitarist Jonnie Russell prowled the stage like angry bulls and drummer Matt Aviero pounded everything within his reach all while lead singer Nathan Willett channeled Joe Cocker’s singing style. Since that initial exposure to Biola University’s most rockin’ if not most identifiable alumni, they’ve made New York City home to a dual coast winter residency, turned in a “destination” set at SXSW, returned to the Bowery Ballroom as a headliner for three sold-out shows over a long Easter weekend and made their Madison Square Garden debut opening for Muse. Each time I’ve seen them, I’ve been struck with how they’ve matured as a band and grown as performers without losing one iota of the earnest zeal that make their exciting live shows so fulfilling.

Having outgrown the Bowery Ballroom, the Cold War Kids moved into the roomier Webster Hall for a pair of shows this past weekend. The grander stage afforded them the ability to spread out and resulted in drummer Matt Aviero sitting perched upon a raised drum kit set back a bit from the action. In an effort to counteract the loss of intimacy unavoidable in larger rooms, the Kids played the majority of their show with muted lighting, preferring to let the music, not their personas, fill the space. With recorded chatter playing over the speakers, they walked onto the stage in complete darkness, easing into “Pregnant.” The lights slowly brightened as the languid and dreamy version of the song unfolded. For “Robbers,” they once again worked in the dark, using only three flashlights for illumination. In directing the high powered beams into the audience they created a spectral mood that perfectly captured the song’s uneasy noirish undercurrent. Poet Derrick Brown also lent a hand: his cadence and wordplay a natural and seamless extension of the Cold War Kids’ literate leanings.

Playing before a gigantic banner incorporating Matt Maust’s collage-style artwork, the Kids delivered patient and unhurried versions of “We Used To Vacation,” “Passing The Hat” and “Hospital Beds.” Their measured performance lacked the manic randomness that normally accompanies their shows. Noticeably, Maust and Russell seemed to reign themselves in. They didn’t lose any of their passion. However, they weren’t engaging in their customary headlong reckless romps across the stage. Rather than a sign of laziness, I think it demonstrates a growing maturity and a desire to focus on the music.

Speaking of music, as they always do, the Cold War Kids delivered. Keeping things fresh, they went well beyond Robbers & Cowards, their spectacular debut release and their ninety minute set breezed by all too quickly. They tipped their hat to their past by touching on “Don’t Let Your Love Grow Away From Me,” acknowledged the present with the soulful “Every Valley Is Not A Lake” and offered a glimpse of the future with a number of new songs that ranged from the U2 sounding “Dreams Old Men Dream” and “Look Out For Love” to the set-closing Velvet Underground tinged “Something Is Wrong With Me.” Willett, who can channel Randy Newman’s drawl, Sam Cooke’s soul and, in a less gruff manner, Tom Waits’ matter-of-fact whiskey-soaked piano troubadour, added Bono style crooning to his list of accomplishments.

The Cold War Kids are walking the tightrope between their old and new fans with the grace and skill of a Flying Wallenda, rapidly moving forward without forgetting what got them to this point. Whether it be Russell wailing away with a maraca on a solitary cymbal placed on a wooden table through “We Used To Vacation,” Maust sending the audience into a frenzy with the opening bass line of “Hang Me Out To Dry” or the now traditional emptying of the backstage area for a calamitous run through “Saint John,” the Cold War Kids are perpetuating their own mythology at the same rate at which they’re creating it.

Labels: Cold War Kids, Live Reviews

If Jack and Meg White weren't an intriguing enough pairing of musicians, The White Stripes have made a valiant effort to try to and up the interest factor for their upcoming tour in support of their soon-to-be-released Icky Thump. Hot on the heels of the announcement that the Cold War Kids would support the Stripes on the west coast and Midwest legs of their fall tour comes the news that Grinderman, Nick Cave's latest project, will join Porter Wagoner in opening up for the Whites when their make their headlining debut at Madison Square Garden.

Labels: Cold War Kids, Grinderman, Porter Wagoner, White Stripes

By: David Schultz
Photo via CWK MySpace Page.

The Easter holiday celebrates rebirth and a renewal of faith. In line with the holiday, Cold War Kids' three-night sold-out run of shows at New York City's Bowery Ballroom spanning Good Friday through Easter Monday served to restore anyone's flagging faith in rock and roll, providing a veritable feast for any soul starved for substantial musical sustenance. Before their sets, the physically unimposing Cold War Kids easily blended with the crowd, attracting very little attention while they mingled with friends. Once on stage though, they change identities, shedding their relatively mild-mannered, unassuming personas and transforming into possessed supermen.

It's hard to imagine this band playing with more passion or conviction. They are as serious as a heart attack. Over a weekend's worth of shows, not once did any one of the Kids crack a smile on stage. Whether he's ripping off guitar riffs, banging away at a stray cymbal or howling some manic backing vocals, Jonnie Russell continuously wreaks havoc on the stage. Bassist Matt Maust matches his intensity and the two tirelessly prowl the stage in an effort to prove the concept of perpetual motion. When Nathan Willett breaks free from the mike or the piano and joins them in bounding frenetically about the stage, their fervor infects the crowd. If Matt Aviero weren't anchored to the drum kit, often using a maraca and anything else at his disposal as a drumstick, he would surely be moshing with them as well.



When Willett takes to the piano, he brings a combination of raucous cabaret and Randy Newman style storytelling. Relating hard-luck tales of vagabonds and scoundrels from their appropriately titled debut album Robbers and Cowards, CWK offered a pair of relatively new songs which they previewed during this winter's New York residency. In introducing "Every Valley Is Not A Lake" and "Golden Gate Jumpers," Willett gave a little insight into the stories or scenarios underlying the songs. If Green Day can move from a self-flagellating ode like "Longview" to a conceptual classic like American Idiot in ten years, look for Cold War Kids to craft a thematically-tied, modern-day masterpiece to sit alongside Who classics like Tommy and Quadrophenia.

The maturation of the band has been illuminating to watch as they are developing genuine concert set pieces. Maust's opening bass line from "Hang Me Up To Dry" gets instant recognition and a rowdy response and Willett gets a lot of help voicing the words of his apologetic alcoholic in "We Used To Vacation." Tom Waits' mournful "Dirt In The Ground" has become a poignant lead-in to the hopeless antipathy underscoring "Hospital Beds" In contrast to the understated backing on lap steel on restrained numbers like "Robbers" and "Pregnant," the members of Delta Spirit and Tokyo Police Club helped close the weekend shows with anarchistic glee. Returning to the stage with drums, bottles, cookie sheets and anything else they could grab, the opening acts provided the rowdy chain-gang percussion for "St. John." The chaotic backing gave new purpose to the vocals: Willett barking out the white-boy rap verses with fierce precision and Russell, straining at the confines of playing piano, hitting the high-pitched background vocals with impassioned zeal.

Cold War Kids' Bowery Ballroom shows were a pure blessing for all who could get their hands on the rapidly disappearing tickets. As some bands grow and play larger rooms, their effect gets lost in the spacious venues. As their SXSW set at La Zona Rosa proved, CWK are more than ready for bigger rooms. Heaven help the band brave enough to slot Cold War Kids as their opening act on a stadium tour, they are going to have a hard act to follow.

Labels: Cold War Kids, Live Reviews

By: David Schultz

A March tradition that could rival St. Patrick's Day and the NCAA Tournament for alcohol fueled excitement, the South By Southwest festival once again attracted every facet of the music industry to downtown Austin, Texas. For those in the business, a portion of SXSW is just that: panel discussions and trade shows abound and this year featured keynote addresses by the likes of Pete Townshend and David Byrne. Technically an industry conference, the 5 day, 4 night festival is so much more than a boondoggle; it attracts press, fans and most importantly, musicians from all over the country.

Billing itself as the music industry's largest gathering, SXSW brings more than 1,300 artists to play at hundreds of official and unofficial parties and showcases. The SXSW sanctioned showcases take place at night, with each invited act getting at least one official chance to ply their craft. For every official appearance made over the week, each artist will give many more performances at the various parties and unofficially sponsored showcases which magnificently inundate SXSW. Wherever there was room, someone put on a show. For the 2007 SXSW, Earvolution joined the fray, sponsoring what will ideally be the first annual Earvolution.com showcase at Emo's (IV) Lounge on the corner of Sixth Street and Red River Street.

While fun and games for those in the audience, much work goes into getting singers and bands onto these stages. Managers fight hard to secure slots for their acts, signed or unsigned, on as many showcases as possible, there being a premium on being seen, being heard and generating as much as buzz as you can. For the musicians, the stakes can be large: potential managers, publicists and labels use the occasion to gauge interest in the band not only by the fans but also by their competitors. Killing at SXSW can create ripples that emanate loudly throughout the biz. The typical showcase set runs about 40-45 minutes, leaving little time for building up a rapport with the crowd. As a result, most acts get right down to business, putting everything they have into the limited time they're given. Making it at SXSW shows that you can play, but the larger question raised after SXSW is can you sell?

Given the large industry presence, it's easy to look at SXSW, (or "South By" as one badge wearer could be overheard instructing another), with a cynical eye. Quickly though, it becomes obvious that with so many quality musicians playing that week than physically possible to see and hear, to remain skeptical and suspicious just makes yourself your own worst enemy. Amongst the many things I learned at my first South By – besides picking up the lingo – comfortable shoes are a necessity, especially if you plan to take in full days of music. A game plan for the day, whether you follow it or not, also helps.

Tuesday, March 13

Our SXSW contingent consists of myself and Earvolution founder Jeff Davidson and we arrive on Tuesday evening. Our landlord for the duration, local filmmaker and Austin native Mike Mann, offers to take us into the downtown area to scout out Emo's and give us the lay of the land. The Emo's complex is staggering both in size and efficiency, with four separate stages, an open courtyard and live music emanating everywhere. In New York City, such a facility would be simply unfathomable: getting past the space restrictions, a Manhattan version would charge at least a $20 cover charge regardless of the bands on stage. At Emo's, when there is a cover, it goes straight to the band and many nights simply being old enough to enter gives you access to at least a dozen bands . . . and this is just one of a couple dozen venues that populate the Sixth Street downtown area. No wonder the Austin music scene thrives.

With our guide Mann pointing out such local tidbits like the bouncer being the lead singer of The Crackpipes. We also caught part of set by Ume, a trashy little power trio. Ume's heavy sound may be a bit standard but their guitarist, the remarkable Lauren Larson, is not your typical riot grrrl. Petite and ladylike, Larson simply shredded her guitar with a skill and proficiency you wouldn't expect from a lovely blonde, especially one sharing the stage with her husband on bass. After tearing through a dozen or so of dead-on punk rock guitar riffs with her long locks swinging wildly in front of her face, she daintily picked up her purse and walked demurely off the stage. In briefly speaking with her after her set, I prepared for a coarse Courtney Love like demeanor only to have my stereotype shattered by Larson's Southern-style hospitality.

Only hours in, I'm already hooked on the Austin music scene. We stay at Emo's a bit longer for the Good Times Crisis Band before heading over to another stage for Brothers & Sisters, a Sixties-style outfit fronted by a hefty Gregg Allman look-alike, who wore a muumuu (possibly a poncho) while leading the band through some traditional classic rock style compositions before a packed room.

We leave Emo's and amble around Sixth Street for a bit and it becomes clear why Austin is considered one of the preeminent cities for live music. Unlike Manhattan, where the music remains barricaded behind close doors, Austin's venues entice you by letting you hear what's going on inside. As a result, a walk down Sixth Street exposes you to the multitude of blues, country, metal and rock that keep the Austin machine well oiled. With an abundance of BBQ and beer and a cornucopia of music ahead, Austin will not only be the epicenter of the music world for the rest of the week, it will be sensory and auditory nirvana.

Wednesday, March 14

Wednesday afternoon marks Earvolution's introductory foray into SXSW at Emo's Lounge. Like everyone who descends on Austin for the festival, Earvolution had a slightly self-interested motivation for hosting a day of music: generating awareness and interest in Pawnshop Roses, an old-school, classic-rock inspired quartet from Philadelphia, PA cut from the mold of bands like the Black Crowes and Exile On Main Street era Rolling Stones. They also happen to be the first artist signed to Earvolution Records.

The couple hours leading up to Joshua James' just after noon-time opening set are a bit daunting. In a form of opening night jitters, we frankly worry that no one will show. Fears of an empty house are quickly allayed: throughout the day we are joined by Justin Ward of the Live Music Blog; local, music-loving Austinites (possibly Austinians), a good number of laminate-bearing industry types and someone who looks conspicuously like Rolling Stone's David Fricke. James and Wes Hutchinson give different variations of the singer-songwriter motif, showing how much can be done with just an acoustic guitar. After his set, Hutchinson accomplished the not inconsiderable task of meeting nearly everyone who came to hear his set, making new fans with his personality as well as his music.

Our friends from Brooklyn, The States, woke everyone up with an early afternoon set heavy on material from The Path Of Least Resistance, their upcoming album which is in the final re-mastering process. At the close of the set, a father approached Chris Snyder, the States’ lead singer and guitarist, with his two young children in tow. Explaining that his kids really loved The States' set, he asks for autographs while his son and daughter shyly loiter close by. Even though the scene is way too precious, I go off in search of some promo cards while a sweaty but always affable Snyder, clearly flattered by the praise, chats with the family. When I return, he signs autographs for the beaming children, making them fans of The States for life.

Pawnshop Roses deliver a set that pulled in a good number of interested people off the street and I notice an individual who looks conspicuously like the ageless David Fricke. While fellow Philadelphians Jealousy Curve entertained a growing crowd, I learn that the gentleman in the sunglasses is not Fricke covering our showcase for Rolling Stone but rather is here in support of the two Philadelphia bands. I learn later that the Fricke look-a-like is Roger Hale, father of Halestorm's Lzzy and Arejay Hale. A band I would seemingly see just about everywhere during my stay in Austin.

After Toledo's We Are The Fury cap off the inaugural Earvolution SXSW showcase with a tight set of glam-rock in the mode of the New York Dolls, Live Music Blog's Justin joins us in a celebratory Jameson toast and we hang with Pawnshop Roses' Kevin Bentley talking music and basking in the glow of the successful showcase. While we wax philosophic on all things musical (i.e. discussing who we've seen live lately), the BBQ buffet for the Sub Pop party taking place that evening gets going. Curious as to who will be on the Sub Pop showcase, we grab one of the time sheets and discover that Emo's has made a glorious mistake: they designate the night's entertainment as the "SXSW Earvolution Party." Oh yes, I do love this town.

Next I was off to one of the official SXSW "badge events." The badge itself is an interesting object. More than just an entry pass, the badge, bearing the wearer's photo and company information, gives you a sense of security; for all intents and purposes, the festival is your oyster. The laminate, which costs upwards of $500, turns out to be the de rigueur accoutrement for SXSW. For some reason, it is required that anyone in possession of a laminate prominently display it around their neck. Even if optional, I sense that no one would choose to hide their badge as "access" plays a not-so-insignificant role in this business. On the first night of the festival, the failure to laminate ourselves, or acquire its cheaper, lower-access equivalent, a $175 wristband more suitable for those with no interest in attending any of the panels, frustrates our attempt to see The Rapture at the Free Yrself showcase at La Zona Rosa.

Not tarrying outside La Zona Rosa any longer than necessary - there are too many other showcases not requiring a badge and other bands playing for free to fret over missing one - we ambled back down 4th Street pondering the importance of the badge. Initially, I debated whether I was envious of the privileged laminate-owning masses or whether I was committing a truly indie-level, rebellious act and by remaining "unlaminated" I was doing my part to fight the power. Rationalization can be quite fun. I will experience moments of laminate-envy over the next four nights, but they are relatively brief. As it turns out, with some shrewd foresight and a little cash (much less than the cost of a laminate and a little less than a wristband), you can pretty much see any act you wanted to catch.

Jeff and I decide to check out the Fado Irish Pub, where Pawnshop Roses will be playing tomorrow afternoon as part of the Industry of Music showcase. A traditional Irish pub, Fado has an outdoor stage area reminiscent of a backyard patio and I quickly recognize "not-David Fricke" amidst the crowd. As I brood over being followed around, albeit preemptively, we bump into Roses' lead singer Paul Keen, who explains the complex Lost-style connections between the various Philadelphia bands down in Texas this week. As one of the Philly bands turns out to be Halestorm, the presence of "not-David Fricke" at Fado now makes sense.

Fortunate enough to come all the way from New York to catch an uninspiring set from Brooklyn's Locksley, we decide to scout out the potential of getting into the Beauty Bar to catch Illinois as part of the Ace Fu showcase. Our motivation disappears after hearing the dual guitar assault of Paul Ritchie and Dave Rosen and the Robert Plant quality wail of Mark Melicia of New Jersey's Parlor Mob, who follow the same Seventies-style Sabbath-driven heavy metal vision as Wolfmother. After an hour of energetic Zeppelin-ized blues, Halestorm takes the stage with Lzzy Hale leading the hard-rock quartet on to the stage with an a capella burst of vocal theatrics comparable to Melicia's.

As the final act reflects a "very special guest," we make the mistake of sticking around in case something exciting happens. Even though there are rumors abounding of a Rage Against The Machine reunion somewhere in Austin this night, we are not delusional that we are in its presence. Before the "special guests" appear, we sit through an interminable set from the Gore Gore Girls, who seemingly played the same song for a half hour straight. The song titles changed and one had a harmonica break, but the three chord drone remained constant. After toughing out the set, hopes were dashed as we learned that "special" is a term that can be thrown around rather indiscriminately: the mystery artist is revealed as Amsterband. In wandering back down 4th Street, we become enthralled with the Spazmatics playing outdoors at the Cedar Street Courtyard. Dressed as...well...spazzes, the geeked-out band-o-nerds had a full house rocking with a Violent Femmes medley. With nearly every other band in Austin making an effort to stand out with their original music, the Spazmatics looked backwards with their ultimate New Wave 80's Show, showing off their style or rather, lack of it, by closing the night with a cover of Bon Jovi's "Livin' On A Prayer."

Thursday, March 15

With landlord Mike Mann leading the way, Thursday begins with a noble SXSW goal: finding free lunch. With the allure of "free BBQ, free beer and free metal," we head to the Soho Lounge on Sixth Street only to find out that it's a laminate-only event. Though sparsely filled, we are denied entry, but since we weren't married much to the "free metal" idea, we don’t put up a huge fight. As we regather to formulate a plan, I learn that there’s more to SXSW than simply official and unofficial parties, there are also invitation-only private parties. The laminates might have been the most common skeleton key but they by no means opened every door; the private parties ratchet up the exclusivity level. Most of the invitations for the private parties are a little bit bigger than index cards; like the laminates they are designed to be worn around like necklaces. Anyone with private invites proudly wore them in addition to their laminate like Mr. T baring his chains. I imagine that whoever got the most invite cards around their neck wins SXSW.

Calling a quick audible, we make it to the Fontana Distribution party at The Lava Lounge in time for some Iron Works barbecue and Ian Moore. Basking in the sun of the outdoor patio, we quaff some local brews while Canadian Ron Sexsmith ran through an extremely short set before turning the stage over to Kiefer Sutherland's favorite guitarist and co-star of I Trust You To Kill Me, Rocco Deluca. With his backing band The Burden, Deluca was one of the many artists running themselves ragged this week playing numerous showcases. Deluca' afternoon set came with no frills: accompanied by Ryan Carman perched upon the nifty drum box he used to provide the beat, Deluca played a dazzling set on his Dobro steel guitar allowing him to focus more on his Jeff Buckley like vocals.

Once Deluca finished his set, we made a quick scamper to the outskirts of Austin for Peter And The Wolf's set at The Peacock Lounge, one of the more contrived concert spaces in the Austin area. A cozy little space with a small outdoor deck and a comfortable collegiate style living room area, the venue was far from ideal for a SXSW showcase, much less one for the modestly sized band fronted by local musician Red Hunter. Using every bit of the available space, Hunter and a choir led by Dana Falconberry loped through a relaxing 20 minute set of lo-fi, atmospheric, Grizzly Bear styled folk better suited for a late evening than a sunny Texas afternoon.

On the way back downtown to catch Rachel Fuller's and Pete Townshend's Attic Jam at La Zona Rosa, I learn that the music scene's saturation of Austin life even permeates the transportation industry: our cab driver was extremely fluent in all forms of music and knew the city's clubs and their denizens quite well. Getting to La Zona Rosa at the same time as the Attic Jam was scheduled to begin, we encountered a short line to get in. The venue dropping the price of the show once Townshend played turns out to be a bit of a mixed blessing. While we wait unnecessarily in line, Townshend opens the show with an acoustic version of "Drowned." The cashier dutifully dropped the price while cheerfully making sure everyone knew that Townshend would be coming on and off for the next 2 1/2 hours. Further reason to keep calm: when Townshend is in the building for an Attic Jam, there is but one closing act.

Hosting a bill that caused her to blurt she was so excited "she could pee herself," Fuller welcomed Alexi Murdoch, Willy Mason, Martha Wainwright and Joe Purdy with lavish introductions. Each performer played a song before Townshend and Fuller would join them on stage. Without exception, each musician had a look on their face that expressed their amazement that they were not only on stage with the legendary guitarist but that Townshend was accompanying them on their material. Purdy opted for one of Townshend's songs and their acoustic duet of "Let My Love Open The Door" transformed the song from a cocky demand to a yearning plea. Ever the comic, Townshend kept the mood light, good-naturedly letting the various singer-songwriters shine while letting his star provide the glow. Due to running late, Townshend's closing set may have been cut short and although possibly historic, proved slightly disappointing. Accompanied by Fuller, Townshend sang "In The Ether," the weakest effort off of The Who's recent Endless Wire before picking up the guitar and closing the show with what he believed to be the first ever public performance of "I Can't Reach You" from The Who Sell Out. Given the wealth of material at his disposal, the performance of an obscure track from 40 years ago felt a tad anticlimactic.

The Attic Jam abutted nicely with an evening showcase anchored by the Cold War Kids. Even though they have reached a level of success that makes their appearance at SXSW seem gratuitous, Cold War Kids put on a simply astounding performance that blew away everyone in attendance. Having been eminently impressed with the California foursome on a couple other occasions, their forty-five minutes at SXSW left me speechless. The comfortably filled La Zona Rosa that existed during Elvis Perkins' stellar opening set slowly hit maximum capacity during the break. By the time the Kids took the stage and launched into "We Used To Vacation," there was hardly any room to breathe much less move in the 1,200 capacity hall as it felt like the entire festival crowd packed themselves into the spacious warehouse.

As opposed to many of the other sets throughout the week where experienced crowds showed appreciation but never real excitement, Cold War Kids brought out everyone’s inner music fan. When the opening bass line of "Hang Me Up To Dry" echoed throughout the cavernous room, the hall erupted. Going off the board a little bit, Elvis Perkins and his band returned to the stage and the two groups collaborated on a cover of Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come," during which Nathan Willets' emotionally fragile voice turned the soulful tune into a Cold War classic. With Perkins and friends providing the percussion and horn blasts that make up the auditory chaos underlying the chain-gang chant of "St. John," the set closed with one of those "Oh My God" moments that keep people attending shows night after night. The unrestrained, unapologetic and decidedly unindustry response was phenomenal . . . and quite cool. Equally as impressive: once the Cold War Kids left the stage, so did a great number of people. The Cold War Kids were clearly a destination event.

Returning to Fado, where Pawnshop Roses played an early afternoon set, I catch The Gay Blades, an East coast guitar and drums duo that is a pair of double Ds short of The White Stripes. The Blades tore through a fun set notable for Clark Westfield's rifling guitar, quick wit, an impulsive announcement to give away everything at the merch table to anyone in the industry using the honor system and an unintended contribution by Sam Bey, Parlor Mob's drummer, that scored big numbers on the unintentional comedy scale. Grabbing a cowbell, an overly inebriated Bey continuously staggered on stage without bothering to take off his bulky backpack to lend additional percussion while provoking wagers on whether he would fall off the stage or tumble into the drum kit. Bets were taken off the board when the tambourine he kicked off the stage hit the bouncer in the head resulting in his prompt escort from the premises.

Hoots & Hellmouth, a raucous acoustic string band overcame the difficulties inherent in following the previous calamities with an upbeat set that seemed torn from a mountainous backwoods. Opening with a romp through the Grateful Dead's "Samson And Delilah," the foursome led a genuine hootenanny. Substituting foot stomps and energy for a rhythm section, Hoots & Hellmouth generated one of the rare instances of actual dancing at an SXSW event. The mostly hirsute Philadelphia quartet finished their hillbilly run through Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" by walking amongst the people, stomping, clapping and exhorting everyone to join along like crazed hippie camp counselors.

The evening concluded at the Cedar Street Courtyard with Grace Potter & The Nocturnals warming the slight evening chill by previewing selections from their upcoming album This Is Something. The winsome Potter, fast on her way to becoming the sexiest, hippie goddess in rock, led the Nocturnals through a rootsy, soulful set punctuated by guitarist Scott Tournet's increasingly killer guitar solos, Brian Dondero's finely honed bass and Matt Burr's straightforward, powerful drums. Rather than try to put into words the extent that the Vermont natives conquered SXSW, let this tale suffice. In the 21 years that I have been attending concerts the one thing that I have always ached to see, but never have, is a true encore. Without fail, once the planned encore ends, every crowd immediately shuffles off like lemmings, leaving the very intoxicated and consciousness-expanded few to scream fruitlessly for more. When Potter and the Nocturnals finished their set, few left the Courtyard. Even though the curfew had passed, the band upstairs and the power turned off, the crowd howled for more. Potter came back to the stage, seemingly questioning whether they could heed the request for "one more song" only to be told no. Over the protests of the venue's staff, Tournet came running down the stairs with an acoustic guitar and he had Potter played a brief but rollicking "Mystery Train." With Potter spilling her whiskey while she bopped and sang next to Tournet, the two played what has to be every musician's dream – a true encore. In talking with Matt Burr after the show, he said that it's every band's desire to kill at SXSW. Well, Potter & The Nocturnals didn't kill at SXSW – they devastated it.

Friday – March 16

Running from show to show, it can become easy to lose the forest for the trees so Friday was spent making an effort to soak up the SXSW atmosphere. Starting the day by catching our friends The States making some new fans at Darwin's Pub on Sixth Street, we lingered to catch the Tyrone Vaughan Band. The son or nephew of Stevie Ray Vaughan, which also implicates Fabulous Thunderbird Jimmy Vaughan's genes, Tyrone showed the power of good breeding, leading his foursome through some nice Texas style blues-rock.

Possessing vague directions to Antone's, Jeff and I progressed to our only intended destination for the day, the EMI Publishing party featuring Robert Randolph & The Family Band. Given Randolph's stature and our perception of where he was playing, we imagined the "Hendrix of the pedal steel" to be playing an outdoor locale. Arriving at the cozy confines of Antone's, we were overjoyed to merge with the excited crowd bopping along to Randolph's funkified gospel and soul. Remaining firmly entrenched behind his pedal steel, the low stage allowed Randolph to play inches from the front of the crowd. The intimate surroundings also allowed the personable Randolph to play around a bit: during an instrumental version of Michael Jackson's "Wanna Be Startin' Something," he invited people from the audience to handle lead guitar and he made sure that a group of young kids right up front not only had a fun but also had a memorable afternoon. Due to the unexpected absence of Marcus Randolph, The Family Band welcomed Vinnie Amici of moe. who sat in with the band on short notice. As SXSW provides such a limited opportunity to present each band's skills, Amici's inclusion into the Family Band brought a bit of the communal, lets-see-what-happens spirit more commonly found at jamband festivals than SXSW. While the musicians are all enormously supportive of each other, once on the stage, the artists have to sink or swim on their own at SXSW.

Later that evening over at Stubbs Ampitheater, Tom Morello stole the show and 99% of the crowd in attendance never knew it occurred. Starting on Stubbs' interior basement stage within seconds of Badly Drawn Boy closing his set on the main stage with Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’,” Morello, formerly of Audioslave and past and presently of Rage Against The Machine, played an impassioned half-hour acoustic set chilling in its political acuity and directness. Making reference to the appearance of Slash at his set at The Parish the night before, Morello immediately informed the intimate assemblage that this evening it would be just be him, The Nightwatchman, before tearing into his six song set. Like an even more pissed off Johnny Cash, Morello previewed songs from his upcoming album, One Man Revolution, and resurrected "Guerilla Radio” for those who won't be able to "scale the walls at Coachella." In song, Morello gave voice to the economically disadvantaged and politically disenfranchised with lyrics calling for the President to drown the next time a Southern levee breaks. Pity George Bush that his leadership has awakened the slumbering beast that is Rage Against The Machine. If Morello's performance at Stubbs is any indication of the fire fueling the upcoming reunion, Rage Against The Machine are about to become the most dangerous band on the planet.

Morello's performance was tucked between sets of a Friday showcase that featured Perry Farrell's Satellite Party, Andrew Bird, Pete & the Pirates, Badly Drawn Boy and his fellow British brethren The Good, The Bad & The Queen. Farrell's latest project, featuring former Extreme guitarist Nuno Bettencourt, pieced together a nicely varied set that flaunted the mocking tone that greeted the project's recent album. Farrell's voice and image have matured over the years but one thing hasn’t changed: he still imagines himself one sexy beast.

Gorgeously playing traditional violin as much as treating the delicate instrument like a guitar, the multi-talented Andrew Bird, whose band included another multi-instrumental talent, Martin Dosh, drew waves of appreciation for his quirky, ambient repertoire. Before diving into every 80s music fans wet dream of a finale, Badly Drawn Boy pulled a couple Ryan Adams diva stoppages and showed a feisty edge that you wouldn't imagine from his music.

The night's headliner, The Good, The Bad & The Queen came across as the most polished arena-friendly act but over the course of their hour on stage, nothing seemed to take hold. Damon Albarn's latest "supergroup" never seemed to do anything really super. Damon Albarn moved between the keyboards and center stage but never seemed to captivate the crowd. The efforts of Clash bassist Paul Simonon, Verve guitarist Simon Tong and drummer Tony Allen can't be faulted but given the firepower at their disposal, their performance came off mundane.

Saturday – March 17

I tiredly and ruefully make my way out of Austin on a midday flight back to New York City. As I relaxed before my flight with a cup of coffee and a breakfast taco (no McMuffins, 8 places selling breakfast tacos: go figure), the scope of the SXSW Festival hit me like Pete Townshend's guitar nailing an unsuspecting amp: even the airport had a showcase.

All total, I caught roughly 30 of the 1300 bands that played here over my 3 1/2 days in Austin ...and not once did I hear anyone cover "Crazy." There is hope for us all.

Labels: Cold War Kids, Grace Potter and The Nocturnals, Robert Randolph, SXSW, The States, Tom Morello

By: David Schultz

The Cold War Kids have reached a truly surreal level of fame. Surpassing the strata of "are they good," they have become so universally adored and beloved that anyone failing to proclaim their greatness seems to make news simply by failing to recognize the genius of the earthy, literary band from California. Having received accolades from nearly every Internet and print publication, Pitchfork's review criticizing not fellating the uber-buzzy Cold War Kid's debut album Robbers & Cowards, became a newsworthy event in and of itself, thrusting the Cold War Kids smack dab in the middle of a debate over Pitchfork's editorial scruples. If the Cold War Kids even care about such an argument, they are opting to make their bullet points from the stage.

This past Wednesday, the Cold War Kids returned to Pianos on New York City's Lower East Side for the first of three shows that will constitute the NYC leg of the band's dual coast residency. In playing the cozy venue, the Kids are giving their fans one last opportunity to see them in an intimate space. Symbolic of their growth, the logistics of Pianos' stage no longer works entirely to the band's advantage. With the piano so prominent in songs like "We Used To Vacation" and "Hospital Beds" set up along the far side of the stage, Willets played nearly half the show to the adjacent wall. Although it didn't diminish Willets' energy or ability to connect with the audience, the sight of him banging away on the piano just outside of the stage lights provided a weird visual.

The Cold War Kids play with seemingly limitless reserves of passion, rarely standing still for more than a moment. Though they may appear ragged, there's nothing uncontrolled about their performance. Even when it seems like they have spiraled astray, they are in complete control, able to tightly snap right back into a hook or a riff. Guitarist Jonnie Russell and bassist Matt Maust confidently throw off complimentary riffs, much like the later version of the Velvet Underground when Doug Yule and Sterling Morrison did the same. Unlike the Velvets, Maust and Russell are prone to occasionally charging head long at each other like rampaging bulls. Maust and drummer Matt Aveiro don't provide your standard rhythm: Maust's bass lines loom large in the mix, his opening salvo of "Hang Me Up To Dry" fast on its way to becoming the band's most immediately recognizable hook. Sometimes fluently, sometimes jerkily, Aveiro moves with perpetual motion, making more of an effort to lightly brush the drums than wailing away.

At the start of the show, the Kids encountered a small logistical delay. In wading their way to the stage through the sea of fans, the band forgot to bring a bottle to provide the proper accompaniment to "Saint John." After Willets asked if anyone had an empty bottle, the air became filled with upturned beers as a handful of fans started to down their drinks, passing their empties up front. Once able to get the proper chain-gang clank, the Kids kicked off an hour long set featuring a healthy number of songs from Robbers & Cowards. A good number of the songs come from the points of view of various downtrodden, beleaguered or tortured souls and Willets' voice conveys their tales with unwavering naked emotion. Pianos' sound system didn't do the Kids justice, rendering some of Willets' words unintelligible.

Hundreds, possibly thousands, of bands come through New York City each year, playing hour long sets at clubs like the Mercury Lounge, the Knitting Factory and Pianos. If you see enough of them, you will see a number of bands that will catch your fancy and even a few that will stir your soul. However, many times while spreading the word of our latest fascination, we know deep down that the chances of the band breaking through on a widespread, Madison Square Garden headlining level will never happen. Such lingering doubts aren't present here. The Cold War Kids have that right mix of musicianship and showmanship that can, should and undoubtedly will find a huge audience. Once signing with the exclusive Downtown Records, the band rerecorded a selection of songs from their prior EPs, essentially making Robbers & Cowards, a best-of compilation. At Pianos, the Kids showed that their creative input hasn't ceased. In offering up two new songs, "Golden Gate Jumpers" and "Every Valley Is Not A Lake," they gave every indication that their output to date may only be the tip of the iceberg. In the greater Metropolitan area, that journey will begin in April when the Kids headline a pair of shows at The Bowery Ballroom.

The Pianos gig is part of Cold War Kids' dual coast residency. Instead of spreading their magic throughout the heartland (that will happen in March after a European jaunt with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah ), the Kids are hopping between Los Angeles and New York City over the next three weeks, returning to Brooklyn's Union Hall on January 17 and the Mercury Lounge (with unsigned sensation Illinois) on January 24. The New York legs will also consist of a January 18 open art gallery showing of Maust's collages at Headquarters Studio, 385 Broadway and Willets performing a January 25 acoustic set at The Knitting Factory.

Labels: Cold War Kids

The Cold War Kids spent the last few years as one of the best indie acts in the country. Now, they take their game to a bigger stage with their fist full length release on Downtown Records (Gnarls Barkely, Art Brut), with V2 handling Europe.

This is one of those bands that deserves the hype and buzz. "Passing the Hat", a new song that did not appear on prior EPs is streaming on their MySpace page, as well as older favorites "Hospital Beds", "Robbers" and "Hange Me Up To Dry". This has been a big year for the Kids, and 2007 should be even bigger.

Labels: Cold War Kids

By: David Schultz

When listening to a new band, it's tempting and often necessary to explain their sound by comparing them to other more popular bands. Given the auditory limitations of the written word, such an exercise often becomes obligatory when describing a new band's attractiveness (or lack thereof). Tapes 'n Tapes, a Minnesota band currently reaping the benefits of being an indie-rock darling (but who recently signed with XL Records), defy such pithy classification. In fact, when describing them, it's probably appropriate to say that Tapes 'n Tapes simply sounds like Tapes 'n Tapes.

Like their name suggests, Tapes 'n Tapes keep it simple. In an era of compact discs, digital downloads and Arctic Monkeys, there's something pleasantly nostalgic about a band naming themselves after near-archaic technology. However, the name seems to have nothing to do with establishing a connection to old-school recording.

Like The Ramones, Tapes 'n Tapes have created a fictional biography, each adopting the surname Tapes or 'n: singer and guitarist Josh Grier and drummer Jeremy Hanson are the Tapes brothers (Tapes 1 and Tapes 2) and keyboardist Mark Kretzman, who recently returned the band is the original "'n." The other "'n," bassist Shawn Neary recently left the band. Erik Applelwick, who produced the band's refreshingly brisk The Loon, is sitting in on bass for the band's summer tour.

Their tour came through New York City this past week; the indie-rock vibe remaining palpable within the Bowery Ballroom for their two sold-out shows with Cold War Kids and The Figurines. Their astonishingly short headlining set contained practically every song off The Loon. Even with the encore break, the Minnesotans needed only forty-five minutes to complete their sweet and to the point set. The performance didn't lack for energy; however, it seemed like they had more to offer than they gave the New York audience. Kretzman's performance provided the most visceral interest as he rarely seemed to be doing the same thing for long. Over the course of the night, Kretzman provided keyboard accompaniment, programmed the recorded drum loops, injected sporadic sousaphone solos and seemed to be having a blast during their encore closing "Insistor," bashing his tambourine off of Hanson's cymbals as well as Grier's back.

Tapes played with the same varied style permeating The Loon, their gift for airy melodies and ability to update a sixties style of playing for the 21st century right at the forefront. At times, like on "Buckle" and "Insistor" they come across as a less antagonistic Animal Collective (see, it's near impossible to not draw comparisons to another band). Kretzman and Appelwick also borrow Animal Collective's penchant for wandering over the drums to join in with a cymbal crash or two. On "Crazy Eights," Grier got a chance to show off his ability to provide a solid, rumbling Link Wray worthy guitar riff while offering sold vocals. When Jason Hanson isn't giving people a glimpse of what Harry Potter might look like when he becomes a man, he provided some intricate drumbeats. However, as Tapes 'n Tapes makes use of programmed percussion loops, it became difficult to determine what beats were coming directly from Hanson.

Sandwiched between Tapes and the uber-buzzy Cold War Kids, The Figurines, hailing from Copenhagen, Denmark, played the longest set of the evening. However, the shortcomings of their more traditional rock leanings were quite pronounced when compared to the more innovative bands on the bill. Cold War Kids make ideal tour mates for Tapes 'n Tapes as the two bands take similar approaches to their music. While Tapes 'n Tapes may have the more polished stage presence, Cold War Kids get an added boost by embracing, rather than hiding, their rough edges.

The unsigned Cold War Kids have been generating much interest amongst record labels, having recently completed a three night stay at Piano's, that surely had the record labels salivating over the Californian foursome. The band's reputation is swiftly spreading; those downstairs in the Bowery Ballroom's comfortable lounge rapidly filled up the concert hall by the time the Kids finished their first song.

The scruffy quartet brings an extraordinary amount of energy to the stage, randomly flitting around like free-range chickens hopped up on speed. The kinetic energy provided by bassist Matt Maust and guitarist Jonnie Russell spreads throughout the band; during "Heavy Boots" an over-excited Matt Aveiro played with such fervor he inadvertently toppled the right side of his drum set. Lead singer Nathan Willett also provides some interesting visuals: never touching the mike, he approaches it with a slightly hunched posture and sings with the body language of a less spastic Joe Cocker.

While CWK may run around the stage in a frenzied state, the music is carefully arranged. Russell's guitar solos are quick, sharp and focused and Willett gives yearning voice to the band's songs of pathos and ennui. They are not a band that's found one distinctive sound and then remain content to offer endless variations on a singular theme, turning out bass-heavy rumbling rockers like "Hang Me Up To Dry" as well as upbeat, chain gang spirituals.

Cold War Kids pack a lot into their set, imaginatively creating backing music out of anything available: Maust and Russell took turns playing a glass water bottle with a spare drum stick; Russell borrowed one of Aveiro's cymbals for "We Used To Vacation," placed it on a stool and added additional percussion until the contraption failed under his heavy pounding. Of course, the handclaps underlying Willet's mournful wail on "Heavy Boots" contagiously spread though the audience. Willett and Russell each jumped behind the piano, Willett accompanying himself on "We Used To Vacation" and Russell making his way over to add an occasional piano furl or ruffle.

The spirit of the Velvet Underground hovered majestically over this evening of indie-rock, making its presence felt throughout the Lower East Side club. Slyly acknowledging the connection, Jeremy Hanson's bass drum bore the Andy Warhol designed banana sticker from The Velvet Underground and Nico. While not embodying the Velvet's laid-back, laissez-faire detached emotion, Tapes and CWK do possess their ability and desire to craft artistic, masterful songs out of simple instrumentation. Forgoing traditional song structures and avoiding virtuosic soloing, both bands ambitiously follow their own muse, playing with a highly individualistic, energetic and intriguing mix that shows the lasting influence of the heady New York band.

The Tapes 'N Tapes and Cold War Kids tour continues through the end of June and hits Stubbs in Austin tonight.

Labels: Cold War Kids, Tapes 'n Tapes