The vocal track is buried so far down into the mix that I honestly have no idea what any song is about other than “Gallon of Gin,” which is presumably about drinking a metric fuckton, “Can’t Get A Line” is (I guess) about not being able to reach someone on the telephone or not being able to find a connection (can’t really tell which; I just assume they do massive amounts of coke), and “Metal Mandy” (my favorite) is most likely about a girl whom the singer(s) wants the attention of.

There’s just enough country-rock in this album to make me hate it, but there is so much organ and drums that I just can’t resist making jerky motions that could be mistaken for dancing in some parts of society. I guess my rating would have to be maybe 3/5? Or whatever arbitrary rating system one is supposed to use in music reviews right now. Either way, despite the “bad things” that I say about them, I will keep them in my music library as I do like listening to their music and will be keeping my eye on the local venues for a show of theirs sometime.

http://www.myspace.com/wheelsonfire

Though I was entranced with having such a close encounter with the music after “Brainy” was performed, I still glanced over to notice a T-Rex of a bouncer tread down the aisle.  We scampered out of this special place and returned to the herd out of fear from the strict repercussions of Tabernacle policy.  So I paced the floor of the venue, ferociously fumbling over feet to find a drink while shooting glances at the stage during “Slow Show”. I settled down to listen more intently, elated by the fact that I had won a free drink after delving into a broken conversation with a gay bartender.  The band played most of their set from “Boxer”, but still pulled earlier songs from “Alligator” first performed modestly. That was about to change.

I decided to strike up a candid conversation with a bouncer.  His name was Cory and he apparently “…enjoyed the instrumentation, but not the arrangements.” I secretly disagreed with him, but confirmed his observation vocally for a reason that would be ultimately useful.  I rambled back to the bar with whiskey brain and beer in hand to indulge in the last song which was the favored “Fake Empire”.  The happy herd of the crowd banged their heads and mouthed the words, as was the case for most of the set. What ensued after was a roaring applause to bring The National back on stage for the longest encore performance I’ve seen in a very long time. The most notable song performed, “Squalor Victoria”, was sublime.  The drummer could have held the opening beat for hours and the lead guitarist, Aaron, caressed the strings of his guitar with a violin bow.  It was as if Matt had been bottling his energy throughout the first set.  He was a pot of emotions that had been slowly brought to a boil and for me, everything came together when he began screaming the chorus: “..squalor victoria, squalor victoria.” They then performed in that boiling energy with a wonderful rendition of “Ada” and “Abel” which was performed in a rambunctious style.  At that point I knew things had picked up just when they were about to end.

The night seemed to fly around in an elegant whirlwind and ended on the same note. The room emptied out and Matt stayed around to talk with some mingling fans. I talked to him shortly about New York and music.  The time had come to head backstage and the aforementioned friendly Cory waved me along even though my badge had “After Show” blocked out with a Sharpie.  And it was a real backstage.  The rooms were set up like a miniature Ritz-Carlton.  Everyone socialized in the pool room, but not over a glass bowl of cocaine or personal bottles of Jack Daniels. We drank a few Coronas accompanied with chips and salsa. We talked about classical music and the beauty of the venue. We played pool.  I held a long conversation about Kurt Vonnegut with one member of the band.  Another of the band members described me as “Leonardo Dicaprio in ‘Catch Me if You Can.’” I responded by informing them who my usual look-a-like is: Keira Knightley. That encouraged some laughs, since I’m somewhat of an androgynous-looking boy.

It was hard to pinpoint who was in the band since they were all infinitely modest. You could pass by Bryce, the lead guitarist, and not even know his talent. For me, and I imagine for most people reading, it is inexplicably delightful to know that the musicians we idolize are immediately approachable and as personable as a friend at the bar. You could have a good conversation with any of the band members and leave it as just that.  And I did.  So it goes.

I made my way to the front of the concert, slipping my lanky frame through the crowd to find a good vantage point from which to capture as much of the show as I could. I found myself surrounded by Man Man fans, painted in a fashion reminiscent of something between the MGMT videos and the grown-up lost boys from “Hook”. Either these are simply very organized, yet rowdy, Atlanta late teen fans, or this is the equivalent of some sort of unspoken fraternity in the tradition of groups like The Grateful Dead, Phish, and then later bands like Insane Clown Posse and Peelander Z. Either way it was clear from the chatter surrounding me that though Man Man wasn’t billed on top, they were inspiring and exciting more people than your average second- tier band.

Describing the music is difficult, because anything written can be taken to mean the opposite of what the band genuinely sounds like. The psychedelic cartoonish-ness of their music has a physical manifestation in a tradition that could equally impress Frank Zappa Iggy pop and Chuck Berry. The show was complete with costume changes, rubber snakes, and Elton John style piano jumps. There were prompted key jingling accompaniments from the audience, and the band even revealed that they themselves were painted in the style of my younger peers. This has to be one of the hardest working bands on the road to date.

The measure of a successful concert by most critics’ standards tends to depend on two criteria: How accurately did the band play their recorded material? How well did they entertain? Unless the rules changed while I wasn’t looking, Man Man has succeeded wildly. A note to headliners: When half the crowd leaves after your second opener, it’s time to find another tour mate.

Dark riffs bang relentlessly around catchy melodies while quieter moments are interspersed as calming deep breaths before the next outburst. The members of Manchester have perfected the loud to soft dynamic and aren’t afraid to over use it. The lyrics match this spirit, bursting with epiphanies that capture the neediness and urgency of insecurity. Still, there’s enough self-awareness to know the object of affection is just a temporary fix.

For example, lead singer Andy Hull screams, “Oh God, I need it!” at the crescendo of the album’s last song, “The River.” When the music calms down, Hull collects himself and, resigned to his true instincts, sings “I’m gonna leave you the first chance I get.” Hypocritical? Yes. Immature? Yes. But more importantly, it’s painfully honest and powerfully cathartic.

Outer South is a transitional record for Oberst. The expected elements are there. Acoustic strumming periodically beefed up with an assortment of amplified noises remain his bread and butter. There are also some unexpected turns, such as a dirty organ leading a funk inspired jam(“Roosevelt Room”), a keytar snarl (“Air Mattress”), and most jarring upon first listen, band mates singing lead on almost half the album’s tracks.

While Outer South captures the joy of making music with friends, Oberst is losing his self absorbed tendencies. This would normally be a positive sign of maturation. For Oberst, it means less impassioned responses, both critical and adoring.

Probably. That’s how it goes, I think. Some of the best elements of life certainly seem to pop out of nowhere and leave you, months down the road, wondering how you could have possibly lived without them. Or perhaps you’re a less drastic character than I, and they simply leave you wondering how you could have not appreciated them earlier. Either way, it’s a familiar experience, the gradual falling for a person, place, or thing, yes?

The first time I saw Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun, I didn’t think much beyond, “What an odd and slightly cumbersome name for a band” and “that little blond girl is so cute when she dances” and “hmm, this music is pleasant.” I was at the Fish Market, a warehouse in West End that serves as something between a home, gymnasium, and music venue, and I was joining in the celebration of haveyouheard.net’s birthday party. By the time the band went on, I was ready to go home, having had a long day at work and feeling slightly overwhelmed by the trapezes and unicycles surrounding me. I stayed for a while, enjoyed them mildly, and drove back across I-20 to my comfortable bed. Months later, when I was interviewing the band directly, they laughed after I told them that was my first experience seeing them live: “I think we all had West Nile flu or something that night. Bad night to see us for the first time,” the guitarist said jokingly.

I didn’t see Today the Moon perform again for a couple of weeks after that. The next time was at Star Bar, and they had a larger, more involved audience, and a much tighter sense of unity. I had invited an old friend, sensing that theirs was the kind of music she would enjoy, and I was ecstatic when she started joining in with the dancing crowd. This time, I paid more attention to what the band was doing – noticing their idiosyncrasies as well as what seemed must be intentional stage movement. They knew how to move the crowd, certainly, and it was an exciting show.

During our interview – which felt much more like a group of friends sitting around enjoying themselves, incidentally – I mentioned the band’s unique stage presence, their ability to move the audience, and their excellently timed interactions. I was met with delighted surprise on all four of their faces as I tried to question how they planned that sort of stage movement. Jeremy, the drummer and easily the most excitable of the group, blurted out, “We’ve never talked about anything we do on stage! Well, the music, sure! But that’s really it!” So it’s all organic. Pure musical enjoyment. We live in far too suspicious of an age to swallow that, don’t we? Cregg, who is the band’s lead guitarist and has by far the most ‘rock star’ stage moves of the group, described a recent show in Alabama in which he spontaneously ran barefoot across the venue’s bar simply to get people up and moving. “We just want people to enjoy themselves,” he explained.

I certainly never questioned that the members of Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun enjoyed themselves while performing. My third time seeing them perform live was at 529, and my interest in the band had grown exponentially over the months. They sealed the deal on my admiration with that particular show. 529 in East Atlanta is a relatively new venue that is quickly, and deservedly, becoming a hot spot in town. They also have an extremely small stage, and a 79 person capacity. Today the Moon was set in an excellent lineup with Atlanta bands Tealights and This Piano Plays Itself. The place was packed out. I made sure to shuffle my way to the front before Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun went on and I danced and experienced the kind of ‘concert high’ I hadn’t experienced since I was 18 at an Incubus concert (don’t judge me). Concert euphoria doesn’t possess me very often since I attend so many shows around town and this, probably beyond anything else, confirmed my suspicions – that this was a band worth not only seeing, but talking about, getting excited about, and getting to know.

After their set, I took off for the ladies’ room, quickly followed by Micah, the band’s bass player. “Go ahead, you’ve been on stage,” I told her. “Are you sure? I owe you one!” she responded. Well, I thought, perhaps she’ll give me an interview. (Fortunately, I never had to bring up the bathroom queue. The band brightly agreed to sit and chat when I asked the following week – without any weird persuasion on my part.)

I fought my way back through the crowd into the main room to find Lauren – cute little dancing blond girl, AKA lead vocals and keys – conversing with the group of friends I had arrived with. I introduced myself and felt like a teenybopper as I gushed over how great their performance had been. Lauren was receptive and personable and told us about their next show at The Earl.

The show at 529 was a perfect opportunity to see the band interacting on stage. Due to its size, you can see every nod and shake of head, every wince or grin. I made a game out of watching each of the band members in turn and found that they performed in a way that reminded me of a well-blocked Broadway play. There was always something going on, always something to watch, and each band member seemed to almost cue the next to draw the crowd’s eyes. During breaks in vocals, the two girls would dance together, Cregg would pull up his guitar neck and slide to his knees, Jeremy’s facial expressions while drumming are almost cartoonish. They have a delightful charisma onstage, and I felt certain from watching them that night that they were as close-knit a group as could be. Sure enough, discussing their relationships with each other was my favorite part of our interview. The girls are best friends, the boys are best friends, Lauren and Cregg are married, they all just seriously like each other a whole lot. “We have a really good time together – especially when we’re performing,” Lauren confirmed. I asked how they all met and was fondly reminded of my usual response when people ask me and my friends that question. A string of outside relationships and circumstances led them all to find each other and start playing together: Lauren and Jeremy went to high school together, Cregg was in a band with Jeremy, Cregg and Lauren started dating, Micah came to show that Cregg and Jeremy were playing in which Lauren was running tech, Micah was playing in a band with another girl and they approached Lauren to see if she was also a musician, Lauren and Micah started playing together in Avenge Vegas, one thing turned to the next, and by 2006, the four formed a band of their own. That’s an exhausting sentence, but it’s exciting to know that the band came together as organically as their stage performance has.

When I saw Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun at the Earl the week after the 529 show, I went prepared with my business partner to review the concert. Bradley crouched and tiptoed along every angle of the stage with his camera and I took notes on how the show went. It was the best I had seen them yet. Concert euphoria was at an all-time high and even my prudish roommate I had brought with me couldn’t help but dance a little.

Fast forward to three nights later, and we’re all sitting together at a round table in Manuel’s Tavern (“Just call me Lancelot,” Jeremy quipped as we sat down). Dave, our head photographer, is snapping photos a mile a minute. Micah is sharing her hummus with the table and Lauren is cheerfully mixing her macaroni & cheese with mashed potatoes (“Macky-mash!” she dubbed it). I ask about their plans and find out that the band is as ambitious as I had been hoping. They’re embarking on 15-20 day tours this summer. They’ll also record a new album in July, to be released in August. And they recently released a video for the song “Like it or Not” which can be seen on their MySpace page.

If you take a look at Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun’s MySpace page, you’ll notice that, rather than the kind of exploiting, braggy paragraphs so often found under the ‘About Me’ section, they have written a simple statement describing their balanced and creative approach to their music as well as life:

“Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun is about the collaborative. It’s about the connections between sound and people. It’s about the heart and the head. It’s for mistakes and triumphs, and against arrogance and underconfidence. Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun is about sharing the ideas that are created by four friends in Atlanta, Georgia. It’s all for sharing much further than there, penniless or plentiful.”

This struck a delightful cord in me, and so I made sure to ask them to expand on the statement. Lauren explained that their project has no specific leader, that they all contribute equal parts, and that they try their hardest to make sure that everyone involved is happy with everything they do – at least with the end results. None of them tries to pretend that the inherent squabbling that occurs within any close-knit team like theirs doesn’t exist, but they make it clear that they value each other’s opinions and feedback on every detail of their plans. Cregg emphasizes that the creative process is built as a unit, never as one person’s sole idea. They all contribute to songwriting, though it seems that Lauren, as the lead singer, has more of a say-so in that particular aspect. “It’s Lauren’s voice, it ought to be her words,”Micah sums up in her incredibly soothing tone. “But ‘Plantlife’ is a new song that Micah wrote, and it [probably contains] my favorite lyrics,” Lauren counters. Jeremy interjects at this point, with enthusiastic gesturing, “The songs build on themselves – Micah will bring an idea, say, and then Cregg will have a part to add, then Lauren, then me, etc.”

Mostly, they’re excited about touring, and pushing themselves as far as possible in order to follow their dreams. Lauren explained that one main goal for each of the band’s members is to be able to say that this was one dream they followed as far as they could. When I asked about their curious band name, I was treated to a great story. One late night/morning in the studio, giddy from recording one of their first demos, they started flipping through a spoof article in a magazine about Neil Armstrong’s first step on the moon. The writer of the article had come up with ideas for what other countries’ words would be had they landed first – what would Poland’s version of “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” translate to? The satirist came up with, “Today the moon, tomorrow the sun!” and the band loved the phrase. For a while, it didn’t provide them with anything more than a Pollock joke they had all shared, but it grew into something more meaningful. “This is where we are today, tomorrow who knows?” Jeremy sums up.

Micah sold her house to make the tour possible. Everyone involved in the project is taking preliminary steps in their lives to enable themselves to commit fully to moving their music forward. All members of Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun agree that you have to have a certain amount of reckless abandon to really go for it and make your dreams realize themselves, and they seem more than ready to take the plunge.

The Drones (who never exactly drone) are taking some very heady cues from Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison and the 13th Floor Elevators. Where the Drones suffer, interestingly enough, are their songs that rock. Cranking up the volume surely increases the intensity, but often pushes the songs close to insincere, melodramatic territory–which is the case in “Nail It Down”. When they slow down and move into folk territory, as they do in “Careful As You Go” and “Cold and Sober”, they evoke desolate winter campfires. Stunning stuff that gets under the skin and stays. Too much of vocalist Garreth Liddiard can become grating; however, when he belts, he sounds eerily like an Australian Aaron Neville.

Havilah is a sometimes draining, but also a fascinating listen that showcases a band on the verge of breaking out. The Drones are solidifying expert songwriting chops as they ramble on, and soon may make a bold, genre-defining album, but for now reside sort of in that middling, good-but-not-great range.

Take Two by Elaina Lonidier

It might take a minute—or more—but the droning of this band based out of Melbourne, Australia will grow on you. For anyone that has had to overcome the voices of Joanna Newsome or Tom Waits you know what I’m trying to say. Havilah is loaded with dissonant bridges and strong dynamic solos. Their music will heave itself upon you when you least suspect it and the politically driven lyrics from the school of Nick Cave or Neil Young will demand your attention—just like the latter. If you happen to be in Europe (lucky you), they are on tour now and scheduled to play Barcelona, Spain on May 29th. This is bound to be a good show if you like it loud, raw and dark.

Schleusolz (decidedly pronounced SHLOO-soltz) is the product of a modern-day musical Dr. Frankenstein, chopping and mixing equal parts bad German synth techno pop, cheesy lounge music, the soundtrack to a broken carnival ride, the bonus level of a Sega Genesis game, and something you might hear in the waiting room for an S&M torture chamber.

The art on the cover of Running Out of Time led me to believe that I was getting into some 1960’s beach party music, but I found myself in a 2020’s juke bar instead. As a fan of beach party music, this was a disappointment. But as a fan of the uniquely bizarre, I felt right at home nonetheless. I quickly became immersed in quirkiness. Disoriented, I nodded my head and smiled. I liked it.

The album introduces itself as purely instrumental, using dozens of synthesizer voices throughout the first couple of tracks. “I Came To Marry A Blond Girl,” the sixth track, surprises the listener with unintelligible vocals (my German’s a little rusty) which are scattered throughout the rest of the album.

“Chivalry” is the film-noir elevator jam of 2009. “I Want It And I Need It” boasts an Eastern sitar battling Nordic metal guitars and a double-time drum beat. “The River of Love” is a well-crafted score to a Western that was never made. “White Sharks” delivers an uptempo, good-times pop melody consistent with the bikini girls on the cover. While the musical style is all over the place, the music’s ability to instill an image within the listener is constant throughout the album.

While it is not the pinnacle of man’s musical achievement, and it seems to have been produced primarily out of boredom, Schleusolz is definitely worth listening to. And for those who don’t care for the aurally adventurous, this is avante-garde that’s easy to swallow. You just might learn something.

Take Two by Sara Crawford

Sometimes when I find myself sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room, on hold with some company on the phone, or randomly watching the Weather Channel, I pause during the ridiculous synthesized “easy listening” music that is playing and think, “Did someone really write this? Are they serious about it?” That was my first thought when I listened to Running Out of Time by Schleusolz. (Try saying that band name five times fast.)

But when I played the album a few times, I had to re-evaluate the way I write music reviews. Certainly, this is an innovative album. From the title track, “Running Out of Time,” which sounds like you’re in a 1992 Super Nintendo Game (in the level where you have to rush through before you literally run out of time), to the trippy “Karoshi Dancing” that will make you think you’re a robot on acid, to “The River of Love,” which almost sounds like the soundtrack to some sort of animated Western, I really hadn’t heard anything like this before.

Are these songs interesting, unique, and well-written? Sure. Was there a good deal of talent that went into making this album? Definitely. Will there ever be a situation in which I would pop this CD in? Um…probably not. However, it left me scratching my head and going “hmm.” And I think that’s worth something.