By: David Schultz

A few months ago, The Secret Machines quietly announced that guitarist Ben Curtis would be leaving the band he founded with his brother Brandon and drummer Josh Garza. For a trio that works so well together, Curtis' departure might have sounded a death knell for The Machines, right on the verge of their emergence as one of the freshest and most exciting new groups of the new century. Rather then spiral aimlessly in the face of loss, Brandon Curtis and Garza quickly regrouped and began working on new material focusing on the matter at hand and not what might have been. Having already attracted the ardor of David Bowie upon the release of last year's Ten Silver Drops, the Thin White Duke tabbed The Machines to reveal their new lineup and sound as the closing act of his High Line Festival at the newly opened Highline Ballroom. Technically, the Highline show was The Machines' second in as many nights: Curtis and Garza weren't leaving everything to chance, they played a late-night warm up show with substantially the same setlist the night before at The Annex on the Lower East Side.

In Ben's absence, Garza and Curtis brought on two different guitarists, who also contributed some additional keyboards while Brandon played bass. Neither contributed significantly to the much heavier sound they've adopted. Without Ben's incising guitar work, the Machines now focus on Brandon's sonorous keyboards and Garza's bombastic drums. Instead of building on the crisp modern rock found on No Here Is Nowhere and Ten Silver Drops, Garza and Curtis are moving into the sludgy heaviness akin to "Daddy's In The Doldrums." Unlike past Machines shows, the crowd seemed less enthralled by the new material, which lacked the tight hooks and grooves that fueled their success. The differences between the new material was most pronounced during "Lightning Blue Eyes" and the encore of "Sad And Lonely" and "Nowhere Again," which seemed to possess a more energized spirit. The Highline show may indicate a drastic change in musical direction for The Secret Machines; then again, it may be too early to make such a pronouncement.

Labels: High Line Ballroom, High Line Festival, Live Reviews, The Secret Machines

By: David Schultz

Quite some time ago, my friend and his younger brother, a musician in his own right, went to see Van Morrison at Toad's Place in New Haven, CT. After a baffling night of music in which Morrison reportedly failed to enthrall the crowd, my friend's brother refused to admit that Morrison played a lousy concert. Instead, he came to the conclusion that Van Morrison's genius escaped him. If there's a fine line between clever and stupid, the line between genius and pretension is razor thin. Walking that tightrope, performance artist Laurie Anderson brought her genius to the recently opened Highline Ballroom as part of the inaugural High Line Festival.

To the strains of a recorded bit of atmospheric music, Anderson's set began with a light bulb swinging back and forth into a camera with the image projected on a video screen. For the next two hours, Anderson's mix of music and spoken word pieces struggled to match the attraction of the light bulb pendulum. Anderson brings a wit and intelligence to whatever she works upon and her stories and songs are replete with keen observations. Over the course of her Highline set, Anderson sang about bodies in motion, mice caught in traps and discoursed in a short story about being a whore. On paper, much of this work must look quite poetic and lyrical; on stage, it simply dragged, lacking excitement or prophetic wisdom. "Only An Expert" proved an exception: playing in front of a video bombardment of words and phrases, Anderson's politically sharp and concise criticism of the Republican regime set expectations the rest of the set didn't meet.

After opening with a dissertation on birds and the history of memory, Anderson offered a lethargic series of atmospheric keyboards and strings, her band simply providing ambiance and moody background music. Anderson's Highline Ballroom debut had its moments but failed to attain its overly lofty aspirations. The show wasn't quite thought provoking, wasn't exactly spell binding, wasn't extremely witty and wasn't really all that entertaining. But then again, maybe the genius just escaped me.

Labels: High Line Festival, Laurie Anderson, Live Reviews

By: David Schultz

Idealistically, the United Palace makes an idyllic locale for the Arcade Fire's return to New York City. As they tour the country in support of Neon Bible, their recently released sophomore effort, the Canadian indie-rock sensations have been selectively choosing venues that reflect the album's introspective themes. A converted movie theater that serves as the home of the United Christ Church, the Palace's ornate trappings seem to be a match made in heaven for Win Butler, his wife Regine Chassagne and the rest of the Arcade Fire. Realistically though, the United Palace is Manhattan's third biggest venue and Arcade Fire are one seriously hot band.



Even though it was just three months since Arcade Fire played five sold-out nights at the Judson Memorial Church as a prelude to Neon Bible's release, it seems like eons ago. Since then, the artsy rockers have had the album skyrocket to the top of the charts, destroyed an unsuspecting acoustic guitar on Saturday Night Live and generally begun their trek towards worldwide domination. Once the little Canadian band that could, they are now on the verge of becoming a full-blown rock and roll sensation. It's a milestone they seem quite ready to achieve.

As Arcade Fire's fame grows, so does the size of the venues needed to house their expanding fan base. Expectedly, some growing pains are evident. With intimacy becoming a scarce commodity, the Arcade Fire have put together a visual show that remains true to their nature: high in subtlety and low on spectacle. The same quirks that seem adorable in smaller venues take on a different scale in a larger arena. Instead of getting a modest ovation, some of the more endearing tricks, like Richard Reed Parry and Tim Kingsbury's penchant for singing through a megaphone or grabbing a stray snare drum and heading to the front for a second or two, went primarily unnoticed. The modest horn and string sections aren't getting lost in the mix, but they are sometimes getting lost on the bigger stage. One benefit to having more room is that they can thrash around with the best of them.

The serious multi-tasking of the various band members continues to be an Arcade Fire trademark. At times, a scorecard would be helpful: rarely will Tim Kingsbury, Richard Reed Parry or William Butler play the same instrument twice. The constant reshuffling made for some awkward pauses between the songs which Win Butler did his best to cover for with some limpid banter. The uber-efficiency even carries through to the string section: on "Keep The Car Running," Sarah Neufeld, wearing a set of hot pants that would make Itzhak Perlman blush, played violin, jangled a set of bells and sang backing vocals.

The humble little musicians from Quebec are quickly becoming veritable rock stars. Regine Chassagne may be cute and tiny but she more than holds her own with the band's boys club. Early in the set, Chassagne moved center stage for "Haiti" striking rock star poses and showing a deft aptitude for voguing. Chassagne's voice has a bit of a sassy lilt that carries well and gives the Fire a different dimension from Win Butler. Like any good married couple, they have figured out a way to make the differences work: their contrasting voices and styles tying together the otherwise disjointed "Black Wave/Bad Vibrations."

"Neon Bible" and "Windowsill" avoided the death knell that often greets quieter material in spacious venues. When the band got quiet, so did the audience; a startling rarity for any concert. "Windowsill," which saw Chassagne jump behind the drums, provided the night's most spectacular moment. With the song slowly building to its climax and Butler's vocals becoming increasingly more anxious and emphatic, they not only had the crowd enraptured, they got a few New Yorkers to cheer lyrics about not wanting to live in America any more. When you're inspiring your fans to denounce their nationality, you're laying down some seriously powerful shit.

The most ecstatic reactions were reserved for material from Funeral, the band’s breakthrough debut. Coming out of "(Antichrist Television Blues)," featuring Jeremy Gara's urgent drumming, they finished their main set with a phenomenal romp though "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)" that had frat boys throughout the crowd jumping like excited teenage girls. Showing a knack for arena theatrics, they closed the song with a Sgt. Peppers-esque crescendo which Win Butler led into "Rebellion (Lies)" before it could fade. As the band churned through the Funeral classic, Butler, who seems to be gaining more frontman charisma as time goes on, jumped into the crowd, belting out the majority of the song amidst the crowd in the front of the audience that gleefully chanted along with the chorus. Butler's antics distracted the crowd from one of his bandmates, possibly Kingsbury, attempting to duplicate Nirvana's Krist Novoselic's MTV Awards blunder, nearly braining himself with a boisterously tossed snare drum.

The band's continued commitment to their fans remains impressive: their effort to battle scalpers goes beyond the simple lip service paid by most artists. For the Judson shows earlier this year, no physical tickets were issued, leaving nothing tangible for scalping. At the Palace, tickets could be obtained for all but the first 15 rows. Anyone seated close to the stage was immediately ushered into the arena after claiming their tickets. Going beyond the live attendance, the band announced that a portion of the gate would be donated to Partners In Health to assist with medical treatment in Chassagne's home country of Haiti.

Likely owing to Win Butler's better health, The United Palace show was considerably longer than any of the Judson outings, even without including surefire crowd pleasers like "My Body Is A Cage" or the anthemic "Wake Up." They would perform the two songs the next night, giving security a bad case of deja vu from The Stooges' show last month by bringing the crowd onto the stage for "Wake Up." Like most milestones for the band, they are quickly overshadowed. Arcade Fire's two sold-out United Palace shows were but a prelude to their Wednesday night debut at Radio City Music Hall, where curator David Bowie slotted the band as the opening artist of May's High Line Festival. Having sold out New York City's second and third largest venues in a matter of days, Madison Square Garden looms large on the horizon.

Labels: Arcade Fire, High Line Festival