Having taken stock of the general tone of my music reviews, I've been waiting for the other shoe to fall. After all, it should only be a matter of time before I find myself at a terrible show, or at least one that I find mediocre. Perhaps I don't give myself enough credit. Maybe I consistently attend good shows because I have consistently good taste in music? To my chagrin, I don't get paid to wax poetic (though Google technically owes me $2.30 for the copious advertising revenue I've generated with this blog). As such, I'm pretty discerning. I don't have the money or the desire to go to shows I THINK I might like. Perhaps this best explains the consistently rave reviews.
In 2003 a good friend of mine turned me on to The Office. Not the American version starring Steve Carell, its British predecessor and inspiration starring Ricky Gervais. Having since come to enjoy the American The Office, I think these two pop phenomena likely reinforce some cultural differences between Americans and our across the pond neighbors. For some reason, Americans need happy endings and silver linings. The most obvious example of this is Pam and Jim's burgeoning engagement. The British, by comparison, are realists, content with ongoing irresolution. For a manifestation of this, look no further than Pam and Jim's British character parallels, perpetually star crossed and ill-fated. Further examples abound, I hope I've made my half baked point.
Rock critics like to dub various bands the American Radiohead. My Morning Jacket and Grizzly Bear have each been curiously given the moniker. In both instances, I just don't hear it. I think TV On The Radio is a more apt American Radiohead, and in much the same way the American The Office is the American The Office. Americans like a silver lining. Call it optimism. Call it ignorance. Call it escapism. They all work on some level. There are also musical similarities, like the heavy utilization of atmospherics and walls of sound, and loose experimentation. These similarities make the most compelling comparison their differences in orientation.
I was extremely pleased with myself right off the bat as we settled into our seats 15 minutes before TVOR took to the stage. Seated in the second row of the balcony, I bet David Sitek could actually smell my breath. Poor guy. With a wall of sound often setting the backdrop, dirge and hopefulness loosely interwoven and punctuated by Tunde Adebimpe's left forearm twittering about like a ceiling fan without an axis, they opened up appropriately with "Halfway Home", the first track off their newest album Dear Science, and closed with "Staring at the Sun", my favorite song from Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes.
To say TV On The Radio has their own sound may potentially qualify as the understatement of the year. Equal parts afrobeat ambient noise post-punk free jazz funk, one is only able to extricate one part from the other when overly preoccupied with doing so. And sonically I think this band is meant to be taken as the sum of its parts. To be sure, the sum of its parts sounds is pretty strange.
The epicentre of TVOR's sound is an atmospheric grandeur similar to their Oxford cousins. When Kyp Malone wasn't thrashing about with only a vague regard for the time keeping of Jaleel Bunton, he would twitter about from within the breathe of his bandmates' output, adding at times happy details. Then, a song later, he would take to the center without calling attention to himself or his playing. Equally important, and more conspicuous, Tunde Adebimpe's songwriting and daft stage presence contribute to the live experience.
In 2003 a good friend of mine turned me on to The Office. Not the American version starring Steve Carell, its British predecessor and inspiration starring Ricky Gervais. Having since come to enjoy the American The Office, I think these two pop phenomena likely reinforce some cultural differences between Americans and our across the pond neighbors. For some reason, Americans need happy endings and silver linings. The most obvious example of this is Pam and Jim's burgeoning engagement. The British, by comparison, are realists, content with ongoing irresolution. For a manifestation of this, look no further than Pam and Jim's British character parallels, perpetually star crossed and ill-fated. Further examples abound, I hope I've made my half baked point.
Rock critics like to dub various bands the American Radiohead. My Morning Jacket and Grizzly Bear have each been curiously given the moniker. In both instances, I just don't hear it. I think TV On The Radio is a more apt American Radiohead, and in much the same way the American The Office is the American The Office. Americans like a silver lining. Call it optimism. Call it ignorance. Call it escapism. They all work on some level. There are also musical similarities, like the heavy utilization of atmospherics and walls of sound, and loose experimentation. These similarities make the most compelling comparison their differences in orientation.
I was extremely pleased with myself right off the bat as we settled into our seats 15 minutes before TVOR took to the stage. Seated in the second row of the balcony, I bet David Sitek could actually smell my breath. Poor guy. With a wall of sound often setting the backdrop, dirge and hopefulness loosely interwoven and punctuated by Tunde Adebimpe's left forearm twittering about like a ceiling fan without an axis, they opened up appropriately with "Halfway Home", the first track off their newest album Dear Science, and closed with "Staring at the Sun", my favorite song from Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes.
To say TV On The Radio has their own sound may potentially qualify as the understatement of the year. Equal parts afrobeat ambient noise post-punk free jazz funk, one is only able to extricate one part from the other when overly preoccupied with doing so. And sonically I think this band is meant to be taken as the sum of its parts. To be sure, the sum of its parts sounds is pretty strange.
The epicentre of TVOR's sound is an atmospheric grandeur similar to their Oxford cousins. When Kyp Malone wasn't thrashing about with only a vague regard for the time keeping of Jaleel Bunton, he would twitter about from within the breathe of his bandmates' output, adding at times happy details. Then, a song later, he would take to the center without calling attention to himself or his playing. Equally important, and more conspicuous, Tunde Adebimpe's songwriting and daft stage presence contribute to the live experience.
So, armed with a vague optimism, I suppose I'll look for my other shoe before I go to see Broken Social Scene on Sunday.
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