Everything You Say Is Fire

Mainstream enough for clubs, yes. Odd enough for hipsters, yes.

The real question is not who is The Naked And Famous? but how did these artists come together to create The Naked And Famous? What set of circumstances trapped this energy in one room before this set of individuals realized they were golden?

TNAF were a recipe for success from the start, with mellow male vocals trading off for electric female vocals, all the while backed by vibrating synth and a steady drumbeat. They bring a polished, computerized effect hipster band Black Kids could never quite pull off. Not to mention the most important ingredient here was style.

[Notes on their debut Passive Me, Aggressive You]

Punching In A Dream callously skips through a waterfall, in a private rainforest rave. This music makes you tap your fingers and tingle with a distant happiness. Almost as if you just know there’s a TNAF rave taking place somewhere.

Girls Like You sounds like the offbeat version of a song that would have backed an end-scene to an 80′s movie. Only this time, there would not be a cliche drive-off-into-the-sunset-in-my-boyfriend’s-car ending. Maybe kill the boyfriend, take the car.

Or perhaps this mix of darling and sinister…

That’s just it. Something is a bit off-putting with this band. It may sound like bubble gum techno-pop but it’s a bit more twisted. You wouldn’t exactly trust them to pet sit. Their twisted nature is captured on tracks like The Ends and The Sun.

The Naked And Famous seem to rack up cool points left and right. They’re from New Zealand. Their stage psuedonyms are Thom Powers and Alisa Xayalith. Maybe they are dangerously close to being considered a gimmick; ”Ooh, wow, watch the indie girl 

pull a rabbit out of her hat.”         

Maybe they are a summer love that leaves with the sun. Maybe they’re a seductive desert mirage. But most times it begins with a song, simple as that.

[Presenting Young Blood, a reincarnated Time To Pretend-esque song for the kids]

Mimi

The Heres & Theres Of TV – Fall 2011

Recently on GOSSIP GIRL the writers put on their big person pants and described Dan Humphrey’s novel as “a memoir masquerading his fiction like a reverse James Frey.” Speaking of course of the unlikely best-selling author who writes about his real life near-death drug abuse littered with f-bombs and colorful expletives. Up and over 85% of the viewers’ recognition. Ain’t it a shame that you set your average material to meet a lower mental capacity and therefore must stick to simple pop culture jokes, Gossip Girl?

Meanwhile, on THE LYING GAME, they have displayed illegal underage gambling as the setting was Nevada and we’re supposed to believe that, of course, all high schoolers gamble in Nevada. Also remarkably, a handful of sixteen year old girls are very much in love with their boyfriends of the minute. If we’re actually supposed to buy their feelings, they’re even worse actresses than I first thought. In addition, they crammed in the song American Slang by rock-Americana band The Gaslight Anthem this past week and few songs could have fit the mood less. Nevertheless, in a positive spin, we may have successfully killed off the selfish twin on the show.

 

And for the unfortunately-timed CW‘s new drama RINGER the possibly impressive plotline only seemed like a sad rehashing of The Lying Game. Nobody likes a copycat - even if they might like the 90s-actress’-career-revival of Sarah Michelle Gellar. I bet only one of these Olsen twin switch-ups will be back for more.

On THE JERSEY SHORE the roommates had been *twinning* for a while until Old Man Situation had to go and ruin it for everyone. First, he ran into a wall and basically wore an injured dog cone. Talked smack about Snooki. Tried to break up Snooki and her meatball-proportioned boyfriend. Fought invisible foes. Cried. Started fights with teenagers in clubs. Talked more smack about Snooki. And last but not least decided to be Jersey Shore’s villain. I’m sorry, is that a role? Like how JWOWW’s the mom and Deena’s the bi-curious, misunderstood Cindy Brady? The best new relationship is between Pauly and Deena. The one where she says, “I love Pauly” and Pauly says “Deena fell down! This is the best day of my life.” In all seriousness, Pauly and Vinny have a newly-strengthened emotional/sexual relationship since divorcing the M of MVP. Nevertheless, the season has pulled to a close and the cast has said “sayonara” to Italy.

On the new Charlie Sheen-cleansed and increasingly awkwardly-titled season of TWO AND A HALF MEN the maid has inherited more lines, the half man is hardly ever present and Jon Cryer is getting even campier. To the point the end of every episode is a deep sigh/head shaking moment at something completely cheesy stick-in-the-mud Alan just did. Ashton Kutcher’s character, Walden, is winning but perhaps just not winning enough.

 

And on the topic of overdoing it, PAN AM seems to be the lead in the school play who’s only the lead because she talks the loudest, can sing in two different languages, and makes eye contact with audience members. I have two main issues with this show. My first issue is with the spy flight attendants. Talking about being a spy does not make you a very effective spy. None of your spy duties are that impressive just as none of you skills are that crafty - you’re just gloating over a game you haven’t won, spy chick. My second issue lies with the extremely dashing, extremely young pilot, played by Mike Vogel. Does that happen anywhere but Hollywood? More importantly, since he’s obviously not experienced enough and probably spends too much time gazing into the eyes of a flight attendant, how safe do the passengers feel? Planes are already unreliable enough in this age! What’s that? There’s a handy-dandy spy on board? OK, feeling much safer.

Mimi

Is There a Following For This Cult?

Cults: Cults

Retro duo Cults bring us a sound that seems to be revived every thirty years. A sound rumbling from 50s diner jukeboxes and stereos in the 80s and now from our iPods/Touches/Pads and more. But one thing is for certain - New York Native bandmates Madeline Follin and Brian Oblivion are definitely trying to make a name for themselves.

They share vocals; she takes the high road, he takes the low. On Bumper Oblivion sounds remarkably reminiscent of David Bowie as Follin’s voice is often a throwback to Cyndi Lauper’s. Surely, no one would hold this stunning similarity against them.

With the inside language of You Know What I Mean (no, not really?) and the eyes closed/thrashing chosen for even their quietest burble of a tune, Cults seem to want to be just that – a cult. But all cults need a following to truly exist.

If this duo is soon able to pinpoint their angst, under the spotlight on the number Never Heal Myself (i.e. I could never heal myself enough for you), into something relatable, only then will they be adult enough to call themselves a cult. Their target audience is hipster kids who want a message to sing out or an anthem to believe in; it’s Follin and Oblivion’s job to deliver.

Don’t take it personally, guys. At least you aren’t calling your fans “little monsters”, cross-dressing with no direction, and making the world hate the word “glory” faster than any other word in the English dictionary. You’ve got time for all that.

Mimi

Small Town, Big Stretch

The CW’s Hart of Dixie is one of the saddest attempts that has come about since Wildfire, ABC Family’s show about a horse-loving girl. Starring the dull and uninspiring Rachel Bilson, it is a fish-out-of-water story about a young city slicker doctor thrown into a country bumpkin town.

Factors that add up to failure:

1. Her nemesis’ name is Lemon.

2. Multiple men are alreay falling for her.

3. There has been a parade with themed floats and, now, a gumbo cook-off. That is the excitement.

4. “Zoey” is so not a doctor.

Rachel Bilson is not, in this universe or the next, easily considered a doctor. Or a brainiac. We’re not buying it. She stutters two-syllables words and whines at the Jumper kid because she is in a permanent state of confusion. The citizens of whatever town this is should NOT trust Rachel Bilson with their lives. We side with them, thank you. Go back to high school.

Mimi

Brian Fallon, I Was Just About To Miss You

The debut Elsie from side project band The Horrible Crowes is a strong beginning and confident stride for the duo of Brian Fallon and friend Ian Perkins. Indie label Side One Dummy immediately backed The Gaslight Anthem‘s Fallon’s creative roadtrip; and what a masterpiece he’s stitched up and presented.

Brian Fallon is a hardened old soul with a story and the mean accompanying songwriting chops to drive his point home. On I Witnessed a Crime he croons “And this heart I had, you never sympathize,” finishing up by telling himself, “It’s just a little bit of blood in your eyes, so boy stop all your crying.”

Brian pushes his limits going harder on tracks like Mary Ann and Go Tell Everybody than he has with Gaslight. And the gentle, honest songs remind us of his last debut, on 2007′s Sink or Swim. Any song of his that reminds me of Red At Night is a winner.

Nevertheless, you ask for a lover or a fighter and Brian will give you both. He’s working class and he’s got some troubles and repentance. He’ll put you in an old car and take you for a spin, even if he was, “some fella that just said the right thing.” But no matter what, in a songwriting world of ambiguity, Brian is your companion who will tell it to you straight. 

Mimi

I’m Going Back Down South

Kings of Leon, a band that climbed a steep staircase to stardom in the past two years, has been unstable for quiet some time and the image they have built up in the limelight is just now crumbling.

Not long after lead singer Caleb Followill walked offstage in the middle a Dallas show Friday night, the band has announced that they are cancelling the rest of their U.S. tour. Going strong since 2009, with the unexpected popularity of the 3-minute-long song Sex On Fire, it seems that the Followill boys have been running nonstop; playing festivals and selling out arenas…and maybe just plain selling out along the way.  

As some may or may not know, the band has been around since 1999 and, skepticism aside, most bands don’t last a decade. Even considering their run, it is apparent that this group was not ready for overnight superstardom.

Recently, the three brothers released a documentary, Talahina Sky, about their dysfunctional family and childhoods, for which they blame their drug and alcohol abuse. Living with a Pentecostal preacher for a father who spoke out saying his sons would burn in hell, in regards to their rockstar lifestyle, surely couldn’t have been easy. Then again, it is not something to be broadcast to the rest of the world without some sense of either the brothers’ masochism or self-indulgence.

Sure, this band is more than just power chords and brooding. Recently they have opened their closet full of skeletons – now it’s just a matter of keeping their beloved audience’s curiosity. Coming full circle with lyrics from 2003′s Youth & Young Manhood‘s most honest song:

Everybody says this place is beautiful / and you’d be so crazy to say goodbye / but everything I see in this town is pitiful / and I’ll be getting out / as soon as I can fly / Life goes by / on a Talahina Sky / And all the boys are lookin’ for their trouble

to the opening track of 2010′s Come Around Sundown:

I wanna be the one to give ‘em all the world / and give ‘em all the feeling of it / just a little taste of it / this could be the end.

But their sound has, in fact, changed over the years; the words becoming more and more inward, angry, and passive-aggressive; like the freeing line from Come Around Sundown‘s No Money:

And we’re all just pissing around / cut loose in this f***ing town / I ain’t  coming back 

Only time will tell…

Mimi

We’re Gonna Lay Her Down In The Sands Of Time

U.S. Royalty. July 29th. 9:30 Club.

John Thornley appears onstage, glinting in the dark lighting, in his sequined top, mink stole and trademark snakeskin boots. He commands attention, he dominates any stage. All eyes are on him and he’s completely at ease. He is about to blow the roof off the club and the crowd knows it. A Jesus of sorts, John has arrived to chant with his people and shut out the less-vibrant outside world for a good hour.

The dull throb of cheers and the buzz of excitement are disorienting as the band members silently get situated and figuratively load their weapons. And…sha.

To the right, Paul, on lead guitar confidently screams into Hollywood Hollows and the audience certainly can comiserate with long, hot nights in the heat of the summer. This 100+-degree day in late July snugly tucked away in America’s capital city is the perfect setting for this show; for these hometown boys.

U.S. Royalty tear through songs off their debut full-length album, Mirrors, and nod to previous tunes like an old favorite Every Summer; the melody seemingly committed to Paul’s muscle memory and their favorite cover, Stevie Nicks’ Wild Heart. The performance of Vacation Vacation is a rest from the violent, thrashing dominant tracks, one within which everyone feels transported to a distant starlit canyon.

Which brings us to the most powerful track on Mirrors. John knew this song needed a special performance and that is exactly what he gave. Heightening the excitement and amusement to a whole new level of sensation, the band broke into a 10-minute-long dramatic stage performance of The Desert Won’t Save You. We were all there, stranded in the desert. The guitar was wailing, taunting us, and the bass was thrumming until we could feel it in our toes. The rolling rhythm of Luke’s drums made our hearts race. John’s slow croon made our skin crawl. Blood was dripping through our hands. Vultures were circling the dead and we could see our fate from the third person. We would be next. There was no redemption in the sweltering, judgemental desert. The desert won’t save you.

The show ended on the high note of jangly, upbeat Equestrian, reminding us that it’s high time we reached our shore; our place of peace, serenity, and reprieve. This song has the ability to bring everyone together in the simple arrangement of five notes, which happen to be bellowed from the rafters. Those four walls held us in, seperating us from a hot night, just a bunch of cool kids living like the good times never end, with our faithful leader, as he collapsed on the stage floor, overcome by the fierce nature of the desert.

Mimi

“Rabbits” Falls Flat

Vanessa Carlton, of A Thousand Miles fame, released her long overdue fourth album today, Rabbits On The Run, with many fans’ expectations exceeding the quality of the album. Of course, this was the collection of songs merely keeping her music career alive (during the writing process she hid away in England and nearly threw in the towel altogether); without bringing anything fresh to the table.

 

On Rabbits , Vanessa can’t pick an octave she likes on the majority of the songs, warbling like the kid pushed to the back of the choir, and even worn-out references from past work; “I don’t need a house on a hill” fail at the attempt to keep her listeners’ attention. Mentions of jasmine, lavender, and dandelions paint a sickly-sweet picture while the constant mentions of both wine and London make this album unrelatable. Many of the songs sound fit to have been Alice in Wonderland‘s soundtrack but, again, missing the deadline on that oppurtunity.

London is forgettable, at the words “don’t need no golden ring” I Don’t Want To Be a Bride becomes sour and grating, and Dear California is promising until a jester in the Carlton Fairytale materializes with annoying shakers. Yet the worst above all is Fairweather Friend, the most confused piece of songwriting on this 10-track trainwreck: “If you didn’t mean to do it / So I don’t have to believe it / If you didn’t  really mean it / Then magical thinking gets us by.”

The highlights in this long-drawn-out disappointment are Get Good, In The End, and the first 90 seconds of I Don’t Want To Be A Bride. By no means do these tracks measure up to the likes of Rinse, C’est La Vie, or Nolita Fairytale.

Maybe I am missing the real point of this experiment, one on which Vanessa has teamed with yet another new indie label, a children’s choir, and the creative direction of Peter Gabriel, Stevie Nicks and KT Tunstall. Instead of following her dark, twisted, melodic path through vampire-inhabited woods long before any Twilight influence, she has softened her sound to a daydream suitable for math class. Lacking vital signs.

Although, one lyric rings true about this album:

“I don’t wanna have expectations ’cause you could be the end of me”

The Tale/Tail of Rabbits On The Run reaches its final page with the haunting, climactic battle scene song In The End, and after two minutes and fifty-two seconds of booming minor chords, still leaves us feeling empty and betrayed. If only we could turn back the clock of this fairytale and revisit the last one.

Mimi

Oh My God That Britney’s Famous (Still)

A whistling baby, whistling dogs, and Brit flashing a little kid. I’m left wondering what she’s on and why I kind of want some.

I Wanna Go is her third single off Femme Fatale and the most promising of her 12-song comeback. The style of the song (techno/autotune) regretfully fits seamlessly into today’s music and Britney knows just which strings to pull. Almost as if she’s returned to her middle school playground to reclaim her turf.

The line “be a little inappropriate / ’cause you know that everybody’s thinking it” is showing her need to break free. Again. Overdone, with some sort of Thriller zombie twist, the video is a bit baffling. Britney has already explained her want to escape, through and through. Piece of Me? If U Seek Amy? (You Drive Me) Crazy? I guess she just happens to have the angsty/wild/tortured formula down.

Yes, it’s bizarre. Yes, it’s pointless. But it’s Britney, b*tch. It will still make its way onto video charts and millions of viewers will agree that the guy in the plastic crown is “cool.”

Nevertheless, with 3.3 million views in just one day, this reigning Pop Princess is doing something right.

Mimi

Surfing, Houdini, and Whatever Happened Last Friday Night

The perfect Summer soundtrack must consist of light, happy tunes with a high octave and an infectious beat. Major chords, tamborine, and plenty of guitar hooks. It’s not the season to be deep and brooding, it’s not the time to unload a series of emotional baggage. Save your Black Keys and put away your Adele. It’s summertime.

A glass of lemonade and a beach pop-style album will get you far this summer, whether your preference is The Drums, with infectious songs like Let’s Go Surfing or Foster The People with Pumped Up Kicks, which has already been downloaded 300,000 times on iTunes off their brand-new album. Another good choice would be Everybody Else, a trio of pretty stoner Cali boys with jams like Born To Do and Rich Girls, Poor Girls [ You got the money that I want so bad / I like the rich girls / You got the lovin' that I never had / I like them poor girls ].

Sticking with the carefree bottom line, some other good choices are relative unkown Jarrod Gorbel‘s song Each Breath and Bruno Mars‘ Runaway Baby, the most eligible future single off his debut Doo-Wops & Hooligans. How can you go wrong with Bruno Mars, honestly?

In my book, reggae music can do no evil. Don’t rule it out; it just may be the quick fix of the destressor you can’t afford. And in a world of artists battling it out with Bob Marley, my personal favorite is Beduoin Soundclash. Listen to Until We Burn In The Sun (The Kids Just Want a Love Song) and you’ll find it difficult to resist this harder side of reggae.

But if these bands’ sounds aren’t sweet enough to fit your summer, turn to those you can trust. Britney Spears has made a comeback of the century with her new album Femme Fatale. Giving off a Black Eyed Peas techno vibe, this album is packed with hits like Till The World Ends, I Wanna Go, and with help from Will.i.am, the provacative Big Fat Bass.

Katy Perry. This trusty wingwoman who would fetch you a margarita and make sure to get you laid by the end of the night, is still managing to keep her sophomore album, Teenage Dream, fresh. With her 80s-inspired, 8-minute-long video to Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F), starring her nerdy teenage alter ego, Kathy Beth Terry, she has worked her magic again. The video features music and TV celebs, like Rebecca Black and my talented/amazing Hanson. Reaching out to thirteen-year-olds and weird, indie kids? Way to go, Kathy.

Mimi