Cinematic doesn’t cover it; we’re messing with prophecy here, dethroning the earthly gods we made, it’s love, it’s sex, it’s the ever-present linger of death haunting every man that would reign over his fellow man and nature itself, building kingdoms and riches only to find his mortality prevails : as Lana sings, “I feel so alone on a Friday night.” This song outshines her others if only in sheer production value – it’s sleek, shiny and massive, the Cadillac Escalade of quivering strings and sultry devil-may-care delivery.

Being a ruler was never easy, but love was always harder, and when the two collide, empires get shaken and legends die young and lonely; Cleopatra knew it, and Jesus Christ, and Louis XIV in all of his mirrors and gold, and Elvis knew it too, and James Dean, and any eponymous larger-than-life figure who is, at heart, a human just like you and me, and who Lana openly reveres in her music and videos, showing some empathy for men of myth: Sometimes life is not enough / and the road gets tough I don’t know why.

La Dolce Vita / Classic Cars

Lana does here what she does best in the rest of her work: she alludes and reinvents, what film critic Robert Stam calls the ultimate purpose of art, “to be reworked by a boundless context, where the text feeds on and is fed into an infinitely permutating intertext, seen through ever-shifting grids of interpretation.” Did you get that? Infinitely permutating intertext: see also, the founding of America mimics the founding of Rome, marble columns, manifest destiny and boundless ambition included; Lana wears a green flower crown like a laurel wreath, along with a toga dress and protective tiger minions screaming Caesar, who was also blinded with blood on the steps of his greatest achievement; she’s got hair like Anita Ekberg in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, the sweet life, isn’t that the American dream; the “city streets” are regal European gardens but she’s wearing a fringe vest and blue jean cutoffs and only American kids make out on car hoods; her eye makeup is, yes, obviously, recalling Cleopatra, but it’s Elizabeth Taylor’s Cleopatra, now through a silver-screened lens, and sure, Richard Burton wore armor in that film – but what’s American tough-guy armor but inked skin full of tattoos?

The ending is a surprise, a departure, only the good die young, we know that’s a lie; and the flames that lap around are the same that burned Rome to the ground, and Atlanta in Sherman’s march, and London according to the Clash. Well, James Dean, the American, died in a car crash, and the best country singers die in the back of classic cars, except Elvis, who lives; you can ask the Hold Steady how a resurrection really feels. Covered in blood in the final scene, the bodies framed in a crucifixion, the ultimate sacrificial lamb, Lana Del Rey can only pray: I’m hoping at the gates / they’ll tell me that you’re mine.

– Caroline Klibanoff

[1] Circa August of this year, Fiona and I contemplated writing a piece on her last album and failed, along these lines (chopped & excerpted for sense)
me: LANA.
Fiona: i need to seek treatment for addiction
me: im weirded out by how not jealous i am
Fiona: she's so completely different from so much else
me: this is getting ridiculous im obsessed
is she real?
she is simultaneously rich and poor is the best way i can describe it…fur coat/trailer park
all of all worlds
Fiona: gonzo porn star
me: seriously
me: this is crazy
her songs are movies
not songs
Fiona: oh my god
you're right
i SEE the song
Fiona: let's shoot a new music video
me: lets do a writeup for the blog
Fiona: split screen
omg YES necessary
me: wher ewe separately try to put into words WHAT this is
Fiona: holy shit pawn shop
LYRICS
me: RIGHt?!?!?!?!
Fiona: ooooooooomg
but HOW she sings it
WE HAVE TO WRITE OUR REVIEW
me:  10 thigns i would do in order to be LDR / 10 reasons why my skin crawls at htis music / 10 things i feel when i hear this album
Fiona: let's do a 10 list but call them different things
hm now i have to think about my take
me: yeah me too
hard to think when all i can do is listen

First, read this quote from Jack Kerouac’s On the Road:
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!‘”

Now, listen to this song (and read the lyrics for reference):
Katy Perry – Firework

Did this surprise anyone else? Katy Perry, right? Reading a book? Reading THAT book? And then writing a song about it? When it comes to Kerouac I usually get depth overcharge. Grudgingly, however, I’m going to have to say job well done to Miss Perry on this one–she didn’t get it WRONG. She did it right! She did Kerouac right, all things (SO many things) considered. She may have put the song through a strainer and only let the concepts appropriate to a pop song come through, but simplicity sells these days, and she somehow got “Firework” right.

I can’t help but wonder if, by some stroke of fate, Katy Perry had opened On the Road up to a different page whatever fateful morning she stumbled across the book. What if it had been to my favorite quote from the novel? What would the song have been that time? (Something like…”I like things / I get confused / It’s dark out here / Toniiiiight.” In my professional opinion, of course.)

When the four ladies of Dum Dum Girls walked out onto the Black Cat mainstage on Sunday night, what first struck me was their presence—and by that I mean the fact that they had such a strong presence in the first place. I won’t make sweeping generalizations, but many musicians I’ve seen at the same venue tend to look like they were run through a dryer filled with dirt and then put down for a nap right before their show, so they walk out onto stage looking disheveled, rubbing the dust and sleep out of their eyes with what looks like actual surprise—“What are YOU guys all doing here? For me? Really?” Not Dum Dum Girls. Dum Dum Girls own their stage. They dress up for their shows—they actually look GOOD for their shows. Four tiny, serious girls with single stage names and killer matching tights walk out onto the stage and immediately fill the room with an unexpected wall of attitude and sound. Lead singer Dee Dee did not engage the audience with much friendly chatter beyond a hello after strapping her guitar on and got straight to business—which could have made the band seem disengaged and disinterested, but instead played completely into their earnest, minimalist aesthetic: what else were they here for then to play for us? And play for us they did.

The band treated us to most of their full-length I Will Be, getting the crowd moving with the popular favorites “Jail La La” and “Bhang Bhang, I’m A Burnout,” but managing to satisfy even the most die-hard fans by being able to play essentially the entirety of the 28 minute album (including my favorite promise of a song, “I Will Be.”) They also played much of their recently released EP He Gets Me High, including a cover of the Smiths’ “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” that finished off the night as their knock-out encore. I like to judge concerts by the effect they have on the passage of time, and this one went by much too fast for my liking.

Dee Dee leads the group on vocals and guitar, with all three of the other musicians lending backup vocals—Jules on guitar, Sandy on drums, and Bambi on bass. What I liked most about seeing Dum Dum Girls play live was how genuine and complete their act is when they play–these ladies don’t just get into a show when they dress for it, they give their all to the show for its entire duration. Jules and Dee Dee often started songs facing each other, feeding off each other and rocking out for a few moments, and then bounding back to their respective microphones as they rollicked into another noisy, gritty jam. Sandy was a blur of long brown hair in the background throughout the entire show, keeping the infectious beats steady and pulsing.

My favorite band member to watch, however, ended up being Bambi—and don’t let the dulcet name fool you. The surly, pouting bassist looked at the crowd throughout the entire set with such intense disdain I would not have been surprised if she had managed to vaporize all of the first two rows of the audience by the time the band left the stage (I myself felt my fingertips and eyelashes begin to smoke come encore, but managed to escape unscathed). But even this didn’t change my previous assessments of Dum Dum Girls’ commitment to their live shows—isn’t a bassist, technically, supposed to be surly and pout as she sips her whiskey between songs, just as much as a drummer is supposed to be the head-banger? Each band member did indeed play out her role exactly as she was supposed to, and kept us entirely transfixed—at one point during the show, the noise from the stage completely stopped, and the room fell silent. No one in the crowd made a sound for ten seconds, just rapt and waiting for the next song. The entire audience had been pulled into Dum Dum Girls’ spell, wrapped up in warm, fuzzy rock & roll, bundled off to a California beach on a much warmer day than this weekend’s miserable DC weather, happily dancing the night away.

– Fiona Hanly, host of SWEET’n’FLO, Thursdays 8-9am

Just hours before Yellow Ostrich parked their van on 37th and O Street NW, Fiona and I scrambled to find something — anything — for Alex Schaaf, Michael Tapper and Jon Natchez to play. A slight miscommunication had resulted in the band planning to stop by Georgetown to record a plugged-in studio session before their soundcheck at the Black Cat with us waiting on the other end to film an acoustic takeaway show. Easy fix, right? Not quite. They didn’t have the equipment to play acoustic, and we didn’t have the equipment to go electric. Hoping to salvage the afternoon, we rounded up the best instruments we could find, and thankfully, the flexible trio was willing to stretch the definition of both ‘best’ and ‘instruments’ far enough to rework a few cuts from their album The Mistress live on air. Crammed into the tiny studio tucked away in the corner of Hoya Court, Schaaf strummed Fiona’s acoustic guitar, while Tapper kept time on its case, adding in some percussive flourishes with whatever he could bring along after politely declining the toy tambourine we dug up for him. Bassist Jon Natchez broke out the brass instead of the bass on “Hold On” and effortlessly translated the buzzing, electric end of “Mary” to an unplugged setting with some light clarinet.

Later on that night, we were lucky enough to catch Yellow Ostrich’s opening set at the Black Cat and were treated to a whirlwind of sound — vocal loops with reverb, a full drum kit, electric guitar, bass, brass and synths — pumped through large speakers. On what is the band’s first real tour, they played to an impressively full room that shouted requests (if it wasn’t busy being eerily quiet, listening with rapt attention as Schaaf tuned up between numbers) and hung on to every note of favorites like “Whale” and newer, unheard songs like “Charles Lindbergh” alike. And as good as that set was (and it certainly was good), there’s something to be said that these three musicians could pull something equally striking and captivating out of little more than a hastily tuned guitar and the beat of its empty case.

Crew: Fiona Hanly + Catherine DeGennaro
Edits: Catherine DeGennaro

Listen to and download the audio from the session:

Yellow Ostrich: In-Studio with WGTB by WGTB Rotation

1. “White Rabbit” – Jefferson Airplane

Inspired by: Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Musicians LOVE Alice in Wonderland. Seriously, they can’t get enough of this book: from Gwen Stefani to Conor Oberst, everybody is still talking about this crazy 19^th century guy’s drug dreams. Maybe it’s the only book everybody read and connected to in school before we stopped doing class reading and relied exclusively on Sparknotes? In any case, the best Alice-inspired song is hands-down the languid, fuzzy, pulsing, equally druggy Jefferson Airplane jam “White Rabbit.”

Grace Slick, lead singer of the band (and resident coolest person ca. 1967) said in a later interview that the song was intended to send the message of incredulousness to parents who were surprised that their children grew up to take drugs (honestly, why was ANYBODY surprised by drugs at all in the 1960’s) when they had instilled in them a novel like Alice in Wonderland throughout childhood. Slick’s main point of contention is of course that the novel features as its protagonist a child who partakes in several psychadelic drug trips. While this may be the case, and little Gracie was merely indirectly pouting at Momma Slick via song (“GOD MOM you started it”), much of “White Rabbit’s” lyrics actually parallel the significantly more intellectual and even politically relevant metamessage of Alice in Wonderland itself. Even if some references are factually incorrect (it was, in fact, the Queen of Hearts who said “off with her head!”), the story of Alice’s journey of self-determination and struggles with authority and logic come through clearly in the song. In the end, be it by accident or the band’s design, “White Rabbit’s” multi-layered messages did serve at least one solid purpose: getting a song about drugs a whole lot of uncensored radio play. Well done, Gracie & Co. “Feed your head,” indeed.

(preview for next week: Leonard Cohen’s masterpiece in thought-crime and the Bible, “Suzanne.”)

– Fiona Hanly, host of SWEET’n’FLO, Thursdays 8-9am

Lerner’s latest release under said band name, Telekinesis, is 12 Desperate Straight Lines. I’m of the conviction that good albums can teach us something. 12 Desperate Straight Lines teaches us that breaking up sucks (and of course we knoooow), but breaking up doesn’t have to sound like it does. There is no beginning to love, there is no end to love, but there was a moment to love, the moment when it ended, and this moment, well, sucked. The album also teaches its listeners a LOT of things about Lerner’s ex-girlfriend: she’s lazy (“I Cannot Love You”), she’s transparent (“You Turn Clear in the Sun”), she’s a disaster (“Dirty Thing”), she reminds him of summer (uh, every song), she had him hook, line, and sinker (“Palm of Your Hand”). And the list goes on and on and on, and I am just so glad this girl isn’t me, because having the minutiae of our faults known to thousands, even millions of listeners should be terrifying to all of us.

It also has to be said an album this personal in scope runs the risk of just being too much. Who wants to listen to someone’s heartbreak being detailed in all its excruciating detail? Perhaps when it’s countered with upbeat, poppy guitar lines, finger-tapping drum-beats and sugary-sweet harmonies. That’s what makes the difference on 12 Desperate Straight Lines. With a “sounds good, feels bad” approach, Telekinesis moves us to understand Lerner’s plight without pity nor enjoyment, allowing us to enjoy music while musing over why we love who we love when we love them. That was the point, right?

– Fiona Hanly, host of SWEET’n’FLO, Thursdays 8-9am

I always imagined what he would be like, though, because that’s what the normal cool kids do. He would have been kind of dorky, smart, totally hilarious, have bad vision, a beard and be really into music. He and his friends would hang out in his room for days on end, writing music and talking about boy things like dragons and girls and Pink Floyd’s Animals, just geeking out playing bass riffs.

Essentially, my imaginary big brother and his friends would probably have been Akron/Family, so S/T II: The Cosmic Birth and Journey of Shinju TNT would probably have been their fifth (and coincidentally also their best) album.

S/T II is heavily influenced by “Bent Acid Punk Diamond fuzz” (honestly, who knows), underground Japanese noise, and the 70’s drums Akron/Family rebuilt themselves and play with their own sticks. The band is currently pushing and shoving at the frontiers of music as we know it, breathing fresh life into what at times seems like just another karmic cycle of life’s suffering: the music industry. Sometimes, new music is good only due to the fact that it is refreshing and a change—but whatever was attempted is so weird it doesn’t have the potential to last. Akron/Family’s latest album is new, refreshing, and, exceptionally, please, please, please can we have it last, because we could all use so much more like S/T II.

They wrote it in a cabin built into the side of an active volcano in Japan. They recorded it in an abandoned train station in Detroit. They sent a fragmented, stream-of-consciousness letter to their record label explaining everything about it—here’s an excerpt: “Catching the Big Fish. An Eastern European blue van dream up. Follow the 12-foot yellow paper roll from SE Portland. A dream roll of visions and bulldozers organized by Future Librarians unemployed, Intoxicated, Artistic-bent, Roving Aimlessly Free of expectation 100 years later.” (By explaining “everything” I guess I meant “nothing at all.”)

So, after all that, what does S/T II even sound like? “Psych folk” is what people are calling it these days, I just call it a happy-maker. The album is all honey and chirpy and tribal drums and happy harmonies and fuzzy guitars (fans of Edward Sharpe and Animal Collective’s potential love-child, listen UP). Some highlights: “Light Emerges” is a rolling, building stomp-stomp-clap with layers and layers of wide harmonies, “So It Goes” is a happy, gritty jam, “A AAA O A WAY” is just way too good and way too clever for regular folks. I can’t find a song on this album I don’t like. My big brother is so, so cool.

– Fiona Hanly, host of SWEET’n'FLO, Thursdays 8-9am

When it’s time to get to work, those fleeing a chatty roommate or fighting the temptation to curl back up in bed might mistakenly seek refuge in Midnight Mug. Yes, that promised land nestled among the stacks where rivers flow with caffeinated beverages and chocolate chip bagels rain down from the sky at 85¢ a piece—and where you will be greeted by the latest and loudest hits from Girl Talk and Kanye.* But last weekend, we have to admit that it was us disrupting your studies with a performance from the Alexandria-based folk band, The Last Monarchs. After parading past the guard desk, stuffing an upright bass and cello through the doorway, and being led down the stairwell to Lau 2, the acoustic sextet serenaded the blessed souls who actually start doing their homework on Saturday afternoons. For a bit, conversations halted and iTunes libraries were paused as the band played a short three-song set over the drone of the milk steamer complete with a mini-string section, tambourines, harmonicas and handclaps before returning you to your reguarly scheduled jams.

^{*And by lovely employees. Thanks for letting us disrupt business as usual—and for always providing me my Pygmalion fix.}

If you’d like to see the band when you’re not trying to study, you can catch them Feb. 11 at Bangkok Blues in Falls Church, VA or Feb. 16 at the Rock and Roll Hotel down on H Street NE.

Crew: Catherine DeGennaro + Fiona Hanly
Edits: Catherine DeGennaro

by Fiona Hanly

Rating: B (Twilight: Eclipse, as a movie: F–)

I don’t know where to begin on why I hate Twilight so, so much. There’s just too much to hate. But then again, this is not a literary blog, or a vampire blog, or a Teen Korner blog, this is a blog about music. And the Twilight: Eclipse Official Soundtrack makes me forgive Twilight a tiny, almost insignificant bit for making the world so much worse. The Twilight movie saga has set a strange reputation for itself by roping in more and more (previously?) respectable indie bands to create and collaborate on original tracks for the movie soundtracks–a moneymaking scheme, no doubt, but one I finally agree with.

As this is the easiest way to go about a “Various Artists” album, I’ll run through the best and worst tracks artist-by-artist. Metric’s track “Eclipse – All Yours” is decent at best–there’s no denying Emily Haines is a golden god no matter what she attempts, but the song just falls flat. As an aside, who is Sia? Did I miss something? What is that name? Wasn’t there that one song everybody put on their angsty mixtapes for a while? Anyway, “My Love” is utter twee, but movies need those moments just like we do (unless we’re robots). I’d never heard Cee-Lo on his own before (which isn’t a surprise, if you look at his utterly impressive list of collaborations), but “What Part of Forever” made me curious for more.

As for the real highlights–the Black Keys track “Chop and Change” is gritty, gritty gold with epic movie potential (does the beginning remind anyone else of Inception?). Good work on two great tracks from Bombay Bicycle Club (“How Can You Swallow So Much“) and Battles (“The Line“), Twilight producers, you’ve truly upped your ante with some indie heft. There’s a Beck* and Bat for Lashes collaboration–a track I at first thought might turn out like Converse’s first and second round of summer jams (read: really, really high expectations thanks to a dream team collab coupled with a really, really mediocre turnout). “Let’s Get Lost” actually turned out great, to be honest–the two utterly different respective vocal styles melded together perfectly.

Finally–as per usual, I’ve saved the best for last, only because everything else pales in comparison to Florence + the Machine‘s “Heavy in Your Arms.” I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, I get depth overcharge when it comes to this band. “Heavy in Your Arms” is thundering, epic, utterly mind-blowing–and oh, the funniest, cruelest joke, it’s not actually in the movie–it’s not even the first song as the credits roll, to add insult to injury, it’s the second. Which is, I suppose, in a roundabout way best, because if the scene this song was slated for was not the most epic, rousing battle scene in the movie, then it’s probably best it was cut altogether. Because, in the end, the whole movie (Kristen Stewart-the-Worst included) should have been cut as a scene, leaving only this decent soundtrack behind it.

Up next for the Twilight movie soundtracks? One mega-collaboration track with every artist on the album contributing to the same song–a la “We Are The World.”

A (or 2/2 Unnecessary Silent Vowels)

by Fiona Hanly
Before we begin, I have two tasks–first of all, please proceed to Gayngs’ Wikipedia page. Read the first few paragraphs. Now, I dare you not to immediately like this band, based just on those few bits of information. There are so many things to like! 23 musicians (including Justin Vernon (SWOON) and a rapper (classic combination of things?)), check; the entire band dressed as “prom” for their first show, check; the Onion liked it and we’re suddenly taking the Onion seriously (?), check; they not only did a cover song but a cover video (something Take Cover could look into!), check. Check!Now that we’ve got a predisposed bias in favor of the band, we’re ready to face the music. To make things easy, Gayngs takes everything about Justin Vernon that could have made you fall asleep and turns the beat up a few notches and back a few decades–from “smooth and sonorous” to “big, harmonic 80′s boogie.” The album is huge, and lovely, the kind of album that fills a listener up with sound and warmth. This sounds trite, but I’m not kidding, the album is, metaphorically speaking, the

Grand Canyon in an elephant’s ribcage.

The 23 band members surprisingly don’t end up tripping over each other–but their respective influences do shine through in bits and pieces from song to song. “The Walker“–who knew gunshots could, well, fit into a soft rock piece without making me fall out of my office chair? Hats off to Rhymesayers’ influence. “Spanish Platinum” is kind of Twin Sister-esque spacey, no doubt Solid Gold‘s influence. I couldn’t even hate “No Sweat” despite the presence of a saxophone (and I have a vendetta against saxophones and 80′s music in general). I could go on, but I’ll end it here by saying the best thing about the album is that there’s something to like about every song, and that there’s no telling which one will be my favorite on any given day. My favorite game recently has been playing a “Where’s Waldo” of sorts with the list of musicians–can you find the Andrew Bird contributor’s influence shine through in any of the tracks? Anyone? Please, keep the surprises coming, Gayngs.