Music Monday

Last week, one of my favorite bands, Copenhagen's Efterklang, announced the new album they've been working on will be released on 4AD February, 2010. Efterklang truly produces some of the most unique, beautiful music I've heard in my recent years, so I'm obviously very excited. And, to add to the excitement and tide us all over for the next few months, they paired the announcement with the free release of a track from the forthcoming album—this week's Song of the Week, Modern Drift. Now, having such a unique sound, you might think that the band would be one that morph or grow too much from disk to disk, but Efterklang has actually made significant strides in development with each release, starting out with charismatically glitchy electronic sounds and, more recently, bringing their unconventional song writing and structure to very conventional instruments—horns, acoustic stringed instruments and the like. With this tiny glimpse into their future, the first thing that strikes me is a much more mainstream sound. The structure is still edgy and, at times, unpredictable, but the voice and starting piano sounds almost Billy Joel-like. Okay, it's not THAT mainstream, but, given the far from mainstream career this band has led to date, it's surprising. That said, the song is an absolute gem—a shimmering, shifting reflection of autumn that's made me smile every time I've listened to it. Check it out. Album cover by design studio, Hvass & Hannibal.

The Find

It's that time of year again. NYC-based clothing designer Steven Alan is holding his legendary, bi-annual sample sale this week, and we're ready to do our part to contribute to the revitalization of the economy. With his beautifully-made button-ups in myriad fabrics and ever-growing womenswear line, Steven Alan has become a staple of the American design world. And his sample sales are glorious circuses of discounted chaos. So we've figured out our spending limits, done our sample sale push-ups and sit-ups so we're in peak rack searching condition, and we've even pulled out our old elbow pads, just in case things get a little rough in Tribecca. In addition to checking out the ground-level floor—full of massively discounted Steven Alan brand pieces for men and women—be sure to check out the basement too, where they keep the other designers' merchandise. And be prepared to wait in line a bit outside as things tend to get pretty crowded. But trust us, it's worth the crowds and worth the wait. Sale starts Thursday and runs through this Sunday, at which we assume you'll be able to choose from a pair of argile socks and a XXXL sports jacket.

Music Monday

You might not know it looking at her EP's scarily reminiscent of 2 Live Crew cover, but Lissy Trullie can write a damn good song. The cover shot is actually taken from a risque '70s magazine—who doesn't love retro porn?—and Lissy Trullie is actually Elizabeth McChesney, a DC kid who moved on up to NYC, and dabbled in graphic design and modeling before she and her band—also called Lissy Trullie—recorded the EP, Self-Taught Lerner at the beginning of this year. With the EP now re-released with four new songs and a new contract with Downtown Records, the band's currently working on a full-length with Bernard Butler producing. But while you're waiting for that one to hit the stores, check out her blissfully catchy Don't to Do, this week's song of the week. And no, I have no idea what that song title means. Kids these days...

Track courtesy of Downtown Records.

Music Monday

Sifting through the myriad new music that washed ashore in the wake of the CMJ Marathon, we came across this drum/vocal + guitar/keys duo from Amsterdam, The Moi Non Plus. First listen lumps them in with the art noise scene out of LA—Health, No Age, those kids. But I'm liking The Moi's energy and obnoxiously endearing vocals, especially on this week's Song of the Week, Ha Ha Ha. Plus ya gotta like a band that can make that much noise with just two dudes. Check 'em. Photo and track courtesy of Subbacultcha.

From the Nest

Rent Right Now
When I was a kid and first started to play music, my friend, Brian Rickabaugh, told me something. He said that his piano teacher confided in him that listening to music was no longer enjoyable for him because he was constantly analyzing and deconstructing it—worrying over things like time signatures or instrumentation involved or keys or tempo changes. And I remember thinking: That is a terribly sad thing. I understand becoming enamored with or fascinated by something so much that you start to eat and breathe that thing—you have to get closer to it, understand it and be a part of it. But then to be taken over so much by that phenomenon that you lose the desire that got you there in the first place seems to completely miss the point. It seems like it becomes the difference between critic and connoisseur. Or maybe even just blissful audience member.

With that thought in mind, I come to The Brothers Bloom, a movie we recently rented on somewhat of a whim because it seemed like it might be pretty alright. I had vaguely remembered the movie being released, not because I saw any promotion of it, but just because we happened to walk by a theatre in the city that was playing it last year.

In short, it's awesome. Like, in the more literal meaning of the word, where it left me filled with awe. Awe of the beautiful writing and directing by newcomer, Rian Johnson; awe of the scenery and beautifully-shot cinematography; awe of the impressive, honest acting by Adrien Brody, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel Weisz, and the surprisingly funny Rinko Kikuchi (the quiet one in Babel); and just awe of how coolly the whole narrative was laid out in front of me, the viewer. I'm no movie critic, but, honestly, it's one of the best films I have seen in a long, long time.

Which brings me back to Brian Rickabaugh's piano teacher. I'm sure that, were I more embedded in the world of film or television or writing or whathaveyou, I might have seen this movie's style as cliché, or maybe I would have seen the twists in the plot coming from miles away, or maybe I would have been thoroughly un-endeared to Rachel Weisz and her so, so, s very endearing acting, but then I wouldn't have been able to sit back and watch one of my new favorite movies ever. I, for one, am happily not Brian Rickabaugh's piano teacher. And, therefore, I must strongly, strongly recommend this very overlooked film. Check it out if you haven't already. For serious.

Poster art by Zachary Johnson.

Terribly Late Tuesday

We must start with an apology, follow with a list of excuses, and then finish with some lovely music.

First off, we are sorry, Internet. We have been terribly neglectful of you. We hope you have been able to keep yourself busy—kicking the ball around the yard, playing Solitaire, having imaginary tea parties—but we apologize sincerely nonetheless.

We would like you to know, however, we have many good reasons for totally ignoring you. They are as follows:

1. In the real world, we have moved our home, saying 'hello' to quite possibly the most lovely neighborhood in the world. We thank you for your congratulations. That's very big of you, given the circumstances.

2. Again, in the real world, our design company has moved to a new studio space. Again, thank you for the congratulations. We still need a few things—desks, at least one million dollars worth of things from the Apple store, maybe a nice throw rug—but we're getting there and are super-psyched about the new space.

3. Our very kind, but rather large cat sat on one of our computers for a prolonged period of time with his giant, furry butt. Which, apparently, is not good for computers (we didn't see it anywhere in the manual). We are not angry at him, but it did destroy said computer, and, thus, contributed to your neglect, we must admit.

4. We were busy making Halloween costumes—Edgar Allan Poe + the Raven. Yes, we are a bit obsessed with those birds, we suppose.

So, with all that in mind, and our added apologies regarding the fact that we missed not one, but two Music Mondays, we would at least like to preset to you a Song of the Week by the folksy-yet-tightly-wound bay area band, Port O'Brien. With the roots of their songwriting and sound in the sea, PO'B paints a deep picture of sincerity and emotion with their music. We've been fans of them for a bit now and are excited about the new release, available at Insound, iTunes, and, likely, a record store near you. Song, courtesy TBD Records.

And we promise to do better, Internet. Really.