The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players

Off and On Broadway DVD

Sarathan

originally published August 23, 2006

Filmed in New York and Seattle, this hilariously adorable DVD opens with a grateful John Waters describing the Trachtenburg experience as “Lawrence Welk gone insane.” This indie-vaudeville-art-rock-slideshow trio has been touring the comedy underground, playing 150 shows a year since 2000 when drummer/ daughter Rachel was a mere six years old.

Off and On Broadway chronicles their wanderings between the two cities, fusing live footage, fan commentary, and archival reference to flesh out the history and mechanics of this uniquely conceptual family act. What started out as a talent show bit combining quirky narrative over found slideshow projections with a six-year-old drummer quickly became hipster cult revelry. With appearances by David Cross, Eugene Mirman, Regina Spektor and Nellie McKay, the Trachtenburgs evoke a wholesome cross-genre appeal that is as undeniably approachable as it is downright funny.

A dry, close look at the piece reveals a few contrived moments, though, particularly when interviewees seem overzealous and the praise a bit too lathery. Small fault though, because there really isn’t anything bad to say about The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. Their idea is brilliant: It pokes fun at the man, it makes you laugh, they have outfits, the art is egoless, they make a living at it, and they're family! Ingenious, precious hilarity.

Coy King The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players are playing at the 40 Watt Club on Thursday, Aug. 24.

Coy King

The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players are playing at the 40 Watt Club on Thursday, Aug. 24.

Uzeda

Stella

Touch & Go

originally published August 23, 2006

The world that Italian quartet Uzeda inhabits is a world of metallic grays marked by the dull browns of rust. Chugging along at a locomotive pace, the grim, distinctly Old Europe feel of Stella is inexorably linked to a very American indie rock tradition: Steve Albini. The fact that Uzeda displays many characteristics that would imply an enthusiastic plunge into the grab-bag of Albini tricks - shards of aluminum foil guitar, booming, monolithic drums - shouldn’t implicate the band in imitation. Uzeda formed in the late '80s and was therefore a peer of the brainy, thoughtful misery-peddlers of its day, bands that held the dark banner of labels such as Touch & Go and Amphetamine Reptile high above their unwashed heads. The fact that Albini produces (excuse me, “records”) his longtime companions is only appropriate, as his time-honored touch of rawness behind the boards is complementary to Uzeda’s tempered aggression.

Returning after its brief excursion with doomed side project Bellini (which met its demise when inhuman percussionist/ noted louse Damon Che decided to literally abandon the group in our own humble city), Uzeda hinges upon the tightly coiled, disarming guitars and unsettling keen of Agostino Tilotta and Giovanna Cacciola, respectively. Those seeking hooks, melodies or typical pop-rock song structure may fare better turning to Harp Magazine and adjusting their Amazon.com wish lists accordingly - our Sicilian expats have little time for such trifling elements. Uzeda trades exclusively in bludgeoning post-punk, with Cacciola contributing her trademark speak-singing with a glazed-over, distant sort of calm and the occasional primal shriek. The songs lumber with 800-lb.-gorilla menace, but benefit from subtle, uncluttered arrangements. This is a very serious band playing deeply humorless music - certainly not music for breezy picnicking. However, on humid summer days with overcast skies, Uzeda reigns supreme.

Jeff Tobias Uzeda is playing at the 40 Watt Club on Monday, Aug. 28.

Jeff Tobias

Uzeda is playing at the 40 Watt Club on Monday, Aug. 28.

Hot Mute

Hot Mute

Independent Release

originally published August 23, 2006

Something about the presence of Mark Pistel (Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, Meat Beat Manifesto) both behind the boards and on guitar and keyboards on this debut adds a layer of reassurance to this whole thing. Not that it needs it. Within seconds of opener “She’s the Medicine,” I swore I was hearing a found third Jellyfish album. Except it’s a better album than Jellyfish ever made.

For the record, Hot Mute, the quartet’s debut, is neither Pistel’s brainchild nor a band to which he doesn’t creatively contribute (he shares writing credits on three of the record’s 14 cuts). It’s ’70s power pop, pure and unfiltered, and it sounds just like the shag carpeting in your childhood home felt. “Kiss the Girls” has that kind of pulsating, start-stop piano line that makes a play off “Bennie and the Jets” but inevitably fades into synth-ville. “Anything is Possible” has primitive, boxy riffing that sounds like early hi-fi stereo, no matter how expensive your iPod headphones are.

This is clearly the balance between synth and guitar distortion that OK Go has flubbed at twice - it would make Ric Ocasek proud. The record is nothing short of a pop aficionado’s playground. It’s a shame we probably can’t get a station low on the AM dial to play it.

Andy Stokes

Andy Stokes

Jennifer O'Connor

Over the Mountain, Across the Valley and Back to the Stars

Matador

originally published August 23, 2006

It’s tough work, making it all the way through an engaged listen to O’Connor’s Matador debut without two things: first, a prerequisite appreciation for the likes of Kathleen Edwards and solo Kristin Hersh seems almost vital. O’Connor has that same post-coffeehouse/ pre-roadhouse faux-grittiness, sparse and wandering arrangements and dense poetry that peppers the work of her contemporaries. Okay, so O’Connor’s sound treads safely within a well-worn path, and admittedly so.

Moving on. That second requirement for making it through these dozen tracks is a suspicion for just what made Matador sign O’Connor in the first place, that singular rarity like Bob Pollard’s conveyor belt-like songwriting ability or Chan Marshall’s pastoral glow. Nope, none here. Just some mildly calming but ultimately forgettable blather from a singer-songwriter who sounds as if neither is really her specialty.

Highlights are sparse and not without spells of cruise control songwriting to wade through, but they include: a tasteful underpinning of electric piano, along with O’Connor actually finding the groove on “Dirty City Blues," a lovely, all-baring moment on “Today” which finds O’Connor alone with an acoustic; and “Tonight We Ride,” which wouldn’t be a bad moper to pound your third beer to. But it’s that voice, the one that O’Connor has probably ridden past countless baristas to this point, that ironically does this disc in. I’ve walked out of Borders to a worse sounds coming from the café on a Friday night, but I never bought a Lilith Fair ticket, either.

Andy Stokes

Andy Stokes

Ratatat

Classics

Beggars

originally published August 23, 2006

When Ratatat released a mixtape a few years back, setting its productions under hip hop a cappellas, it shouldn't have been surprising how well it worked. After all, the songs on the group's first album had lots of room, but when they hit, they hit hard, which is roughly the model for modern hip hop production. (Change the modality on Timbaland's production for Xzibit's "Hey Now" and you've basically got a Ratatat song.)

On new album Classics, the Brooklyn duo of Mike Stroud and Evan Mast have filled in the gaps, and the results are… different. On the best songs, like "Wildcat" and "Loud Pipes," they come off as tuneful and well-arranged as the Scissor Sisters, but without the swing, something that could be remedied by (gulp) a little bit of vocals; Ratatat songs are so relentlessly on the beat that they have a hard time rocking, as they seem to want to do here occasionally. Other times, the textures draw you in and show you lovely sights, as on the pretty "Montanita."

But on at least half the songs, the textures just aren't that interesting, and with more layers, it's hard to hear what the individual parts are doing, which was one of the first album's signal pleasures. Ratatat crafted a distinctive sound there, and by moving away from that (this album uses way more "live" parts), the duo has started to sound like just any other band. Of course, in the end, this album really has roughly the same hit-to-miss ratio as the pair's debut; it's just a bit less striking. Maybe the fickle indie market will stick with 'em to enjoy it. We'll see.

Michael Barthel

Michael Barthel

The Knife

Silent Shout

Rabid / Mute

originally published August 23, 2006

Silent Shout contains two of the year's best songs: "Silent Shout," a minor masterpiece of moody tension-and-release filter manipulation that takes house's ethos of repetition and squashes it into a closet; and "We Share Our Mother's Health," a collection of utterly unlikely elements, bounces and squeaks and burps, somehow cohering into a euphoric, danceable whole. It also contains nine other songs that run the gamut from promising trifle to utter shit.

If this stems from something, it's probably the fact that every track is basically the same song, just with different buttons pressed on the sequencer and the vocal FX unit. A distinctive element is introduced that at some point joins the greater fabric of the song, which consists of one synth loop, a simple bassline, and a clattering drum part, with occasional flourishes. Treated vocals go over the top. These elements then repeat until the song is over. There is never more than one melody. This would all be forgivable if the formula worked more reliably, but it's pretty painful overall.

The Knife's previous album Deep Cuts contained one of the decade's best songs, "Heartbeats." They members have said they didn't want to make another pop album, and indeed they haven't. But Deep Cuts was arguably far weirder than Silent Shout - it didn't have squeaky robo-voices, but its songs could go in any direction and threw curveball elements in at every turn. You can call this one minimalist or you can call it lazy, but either way, it's not very good.

Michael Barthel

Michael Barthel