But in actuality, this and the other various brushes with death that occurred throughout the trip went unrecorded. In fact, we ended up filming a band. Hope I didn’t spoil the surprise.

On October 25, The Corin Tucker Band, as part of the tour promoting their record 1,000 Years, played the Paradise Rock Club. Let me tell you, this club possesses excellent columns. They appear to be made of some fine stone not unlike marble, covered with an attractive metal mesh. I couldn’t have asked for a better inanimate object to lean against through the opening acts as I gathered myself to claim a spot at the stage the moment the main act appeared.

Which reminds me: the first opening act deserves what I might call an honorable mention. I initially gave Mrs. Danvers a rating of “pretty okay,” giving extra credit for having broken a string and played half their set with no guitar, and still sounding good. It was the next day that I realized their song was still stuck in my head and decided I needed to hear it again. I’ve listened to it many times since and I’ll present it to you here, just so you can have the full “listening to a band I’ve never heard of and wondering where the main act is” live show experience.

Mrs. Danvers — “What Did I Do (You Always Looked Good In the Morning)”

The Corin Tucker Band consists of Corin Tucker (Sleater-Kinney), Sara Lund (Unwound, Hungry Ghost), and Seth Lorinczi (The Golden Bears). They were joined on stage by Mike Clark (Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks) and Lorca Wood (also of Hungry Ghost). I wish to note that Mike Clark presented a frightening visage: a strangely intense man in a tie who gave me the impression that someone had hired a lawyer to play bass. Although most of the focus was of course on Corin Tucker, the whole band played excellently.

The Corin Tucker Band — “Half a World Away”

I’ve read a lot of comments online complaining that this band isn’t Sleater-Kinney. First of all, tell me that “Half a World Away” doesn’t sound like Sleater-Kinney. I can almost hear Carrie Brownstein. But no, of course it’s not Sleater-Kinney. In an oft-quoted statement, Corin Tucker called this album “a middle-aged mom record” and yeah, you can definitely hear that. A lot of the songs don’t have much of an “edge,” and I guess anybody who was expecting a really rockin’ record might be disappointed. But none of that is important. Take the band on its own and it’s clear that they’ve put together a great album that does exactly what it set out to do.

The Corin Tucker Band — “Doubt”

That’s not to say the record doesn’t have its louder bits. “Doubt” is a great track and hearing it played live was completely amazing. That’s really about all I can say about it.

It’s tough to find live music when you live two to four hours away from anything. To travel that far for one band involves a careful balance of spontaneity and meticulous planning. “Leave nothing to chance!” was my constant refrain as we prepared for the trip. “Leave nothing to chance,” I said, as I plotted every inch of the route with Google Maps. “Leave nothing to chance,” I said, as I reminded my friend to bring his ID and, because it might get cold, his jacket. “Leave nothing to chance,” I said, as we cheerfully left my car in the parking garage and walked for a good twenty minutes before I remembered that I hadn’t grabbed the tickets. I recall freezing suddenly at that moment, patting my pockets awkwardly, then beginning, “So, uh…” Turns out something always gets left to chance, but at least I remembered them before we tried to enter the club. This moderately embarrassing anecdote, by the way, was the payment my friend required before he would send the photos to me. Thanks, Troy.

Mrs. Danvers is a local Boston band and they exist primarily on their MySpace page. Their EP, What Did I Do, is on iTunes!

The Corin Tucker Band is on the good ol’ Kill Rock Stars label, and you can buy the new album, 1,000 Years, on the website. Unfortunately, the band’s touring seems to pretty much be over for now, unless you’re reading this in Japan, but keep an eye out in case they go for another round. The show is amazing.

And now, I’ll leave you with a Girlpants world exclusive: Corin Tucker performing “Miles Away” at the Paradise Rock Club in Boston on October 25, again courtesy of Troy. Enjoy!

(*pictured here, a stage set for an absent audience, replete with basic instruments and mood*)

THE BOYS WHO CRIED WOLVES

I had no expectations for Peter Wolf Crier. Actually, I was half-expecting Rogue Wave, given some misinformation on the bill and a slip-up regarding the date (they’re both playing Royale in Boston tomorrow night), so you could say I had a complete deficiency in expectation. On a stage crowded with Midlake’s psych-folk paraphernalia, Peter

Pisano and Brian Moen sat perched on drum stools, bent over their respective instruments: for Brian, a small white drumkit, for Peter, a ratty sunburst acoustic and Roland PK-5 floor controller. Then they played, and they absolutely ruled. Peter has a peculiar voice, like it’s half Adam Levine and half Robin Pecknold, and his guitar is something somewhere like Scout Niblett’s own fowl howl (tons and tons and tons of feedback, no empty space). He operates that Roland floor controller with two spry feet keeping a warm tone under each chord while using what appeared to be a Memory Boy to pile up his vocal melodies.

Meanwhile, Brian killed two pairs of sticks, a piece of which I saved from the floor. He also did that thing that drummers sometimes do, mouthing each hit and contorting his face at the choruses.

Definitely download/purchase Inter-Be, and check them out on their first real tour. They seem to have a rare magic that’s consumed in bands all too early, so I hope those spirits continue to ride high well into a good, long career.

Buy Peter Wolf Crier — Inter-Be [Jagjaguwar]

THOSE LONESOME HERMIT-TYPES

I’m one of those people you see on the forums sayin’ how the latest Midlake album is awesome and underrated and defending them against all those jerks who just like “Roscoe” or “Home” (please people they have many many more songs about the 1800s and being a scientific pantherman). Maybe I’m getting prematurely defensive, but I want Midlake to keep making music; I’d hate to see them get discouraged from a few mediocre reviews. It’s tough to top something like The Trials of Van Occupanther, and I was pleasantly-surprised to find last January that the new record found them venturing elsewhere rather than working on a follow-up. Midlake played great; as expected, with an elaborate set (four guitarists, two flutists, [is that a term?], tambourines, chimes), spot-on harmonies, and cool inter-song jamming.

I spoke to Eric (Van Occupanther himself) about the “new” direction the band is taking, that earnest folk (part playing a genre, part humble submission) with some psych excursions, and it sounds like something the next album will pursue even further. And for the small turnout, the show was all the more intimate; Eric spoke about how draining the headlining spot can be (they’re playing right now at the Royale in Boston), and revealed that this particular gig was a last-minute diversion on a hectic grand-tour (hence no Rogue Wave).  

If you haven’t heard it already, check out The Courage of Others, and if you’ve managed to avoid The Trials of Van Occupanther, you have some serious work to do this evening on your personality. Midlake has a few more stops before an excursion to Europe and a much needed respite in December, so catch them before they retire into the core of nature once again.

Buy Midlake — The Courage of Others [Bella Union]
 

I don’t wanna make this a thing, but I’m seeing The Tallest Man on Earth this Thursday, and if that shows goes anything like this one (it might, the venue is real remote and I can’t find much info on it), expect another post from me soonish.

Mangum’s publicist commented that the show did not signal the beginning of a comeback, but was rather a move to aid an old friend in a time of crisis. No matter what the reason is, though, Mangum’s presence on the bill no doubt but fueled the furious philanthropy that sold the show out in twenty minutes flat on Kickstarter (I know this because I too was there, obsessively refreshing the page, to bring Ghastlypants the scoop) (and to buy myself a ticket) (yes I am going) (OMG). At last glance, the show brought in over forty grand, all of which will go to benefit Knox and help him in his recovery. To ensure this, the organizers are taking a firm stance against scalpers, electing to revoke ticket privileges from those who attempt publicly to sell their slots.

Finn Family — “It’s Love”

The track above is off the compilation. Even though it has nothing to do with most of what I said above, I am posting it because it made me smile. You can (and should) buy the album here.  And, although the show is sold out now, you can still track the donations and contribute here at Kickstarter.

Joe’s Pub is part dinner theatre, part dark nightclub, part music venue, and (unlike most New York venues), they like to keep things on the clock. There was no opening act, and Kate got onstage promptly at 7:30 with her guitarist (and, mixing business and pleasure, her husband) Kier Nuttall. Awash with the gorgeous lighting of the venue and clearly stoked about the receptive crowd, the pair opened with “Politics in Space.” This song is agreeably percussive and funny and a great opener. Listen here:

Kate Miller-Heidke — “Politics in Space”

It is true that Miller-Heidke is quirky and deserves the comparisons to famous alien pop lady weirdos (cheap comparisons I’ll save for other blogs, really). But she also has her own peculiarities: her voice changes pitch and octave in unpredictable and interesting ways, and she’s really used to using it as an instrument (like on her single “Can’t Shake It”). She also gets downright gritty sometimes, banging feverishly on the piano keys and roaring like a demon, or unleashing operatic notes as her tambourine breaks on her hip. These moments are when I like Miller-Heidke best (but everyone who knows me knows that I have always been one for Vegas-lounge-queen-grade melodrama). This is why it surprised me whenever she showcased one of her more traditionally written songs – predictably progressing piano ballads with emotional lyrics, lovely but somewhat too Lilith Fair (songs like “Caught in the Crowd” and the platinum-going “Last Day On Earth”, both tidy and nice but not for me).

But I don’t want to quibble. The set was clever, well played, interesting, and great fun to listen to. Miller-Heidke’s stage banter (something that I usually cringe about *cough* TORIAMOS *cough*) is absolutely endearing and won’t pander to anyone, including the audience or the venue – at one point she stopped and proclaimed that she had never before played anywhere that smelled of “such pungent fish,” referring to the food a patron in front was enjoying. And we got to hear her excellent Britney Spears cover, complete with the aforementioned opera flourishes. Really, if you like music with personality (and clearly you do or you wouldn’t be here at Grizzlypants), and you are lucky enough to be in one of the towns Miller-Heidke and Nuttall will be hitting on their tour, you should go hear out their rather incomparable pop brand.

Finally, for some topical humor (as opposed to the “tropical humor” of the malaria-related practical joke Mike tried to play on the office after one of his Africa jaunts), hear out this little ditty:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Richard McGraw — “Hurting Heart”

1. The beginning verse — sung with an endearingly breaking voice — acknowledges the wrongness of the narrator’s love situation (you’re with someone else now), and makes a self-conscious reference to the song itself (“so I wrote you this song”).
2. 45 seconds in, McGraw introduces the man-versus-himself theme (common in country, bluegrass, and all other types of classic songwriting) of wishing to overcome personal bias in order to become a better man.  In this case, better-mandom involves bearing the love interest’s ring at her wedding; enter the devastating emotional crux of this song.
3. He follows this revelation with the wordless relief of an infinitely sing-along-able “La la la” refrain.  Note this refrain; it will proudly reappear in Point 6.
4. McGraw then introduces a tinge of wry humor that both acknowledges the desperate predicament and dismisses the new partner as inferior and even gimmicky (“I could teach you how not to let go / But why you wanna learn that girl I don’t know / Your bohemian friend has got you tied up now / And I don’t think that you’ll ever come down”).
5. Then, enter the chorus twice, to set up for the final crescendo: 
6. The second layer of singalong chorus: “I know it’s all wrong, I know it’s all wrong” layered WITH “La la la” — a genius sticky songwriting move ensuring you’ll be singing this song for days. 
7. A clean outro reminiscent of the beginning of the song, but also invoking the tidy way that the narrator decides to disengage with the situation.

Bingo, Richard McGraw.  You’ve hit the nail of heartache square on the head without hammering that shit to death.  You understand subtlety; this much I know from your MySpace, which proclaims you’ve never used the words “California” or “LA” in a song.  Brilliant movez all around.

Now, if any of you Greatpants readers reside in New York the way that I do, you should know: McGraw will be performing on Friday March 5th at the American Folk Art Museum, as part of the Free Fridays, along with readers from the Underwater New York project.