NSFW. Best video of the year, so far.

Our friends over at SixEyes have some great mp3 downloads of Leonard Cohen live in a new performance from February of this year.

Check it out

With a nice little intro from John Cash himself…

Fan-made video highlighting bassist Paul Simonon

A new form of music is emerging in the 21st century. Electronic pop sound or music coupled with electronic effects like in guitars, synthesizers, drums, and a wide range of other musical instruments is hitting the American airwaves by storm. One of the rising artists of this genre is White Williams.

The Cleveland native began his music career in 1999 as a drummer for Ohio area bands and established himself as one the best drummers in Ohio. Implementing the use guitars and synthesizers, Williams recorded Smoke, a compilation of songs that are defined by expressive lyrics and obscure musical arrangements. When I’m not busy playing online poker and Wii,  you can find me in my favorite chair listening to Walt. Click below to hear the interview.

White Williams- New Violence mp3

6.7

I’ve been putting off this review for a couple of weeks now. I was thinking, all of this time, that Jenni would turn out to be bland – another pretty girl with a bad habit of playing guitar. 1.76 songs into The Fourth EP, her debut out on Clickpop Records, Jenni convinced me that she is not talentless or boring. A mere 20 or so years old, Jenni Potts makes music that proves to be much more elegant and sincere than her years display. The Fourth does it all right – it’s pensive and pertinent; it’s slightly ambient, but jagged with rock girl mentality. Jenni has been through a lot, and you feel it in every croon of her voice. It seems as if all her anger, frustration, past tragedies, and depression are the fabric of this heartfelt unveiling.

The first track, “The Fourth”, alludes to the date of her first suicide attempt and the due date of a baby she miscarried. It is clear that she isn’t trying this music thing on for size, but is groping for some clarity and peace, and this music is a product of that. She tells her tales with the power of Neko Case and the sensitivity of Cat Power. Complimented on this EP by pedal steel, vibraphone and cello, among other instruments, Jenni swoops in telling her tales of misery, mistakes and what could have been. Though she is young, her yearning message is universal. Just as Michael Stipe so knowingly said, “Everybody hurts sometimes”. Channeling the sometimes cerebral and always angry Ani Difranco on the second track, “Friends”, Jenni talks about the painful result of a friendship turned relationship, and the ruin that follows. Her voice, and the absolute control she has over it, holds so much promise. The accompanying vibraphone adds a lot to this slow piano-driven track, conjuring a chilly Fiona Apple. “See Home” starts very similarly as “Friends” but is backed by simplistic, and slightly radio-rockish, percussion. This track is just a bit too short, and the shortest on the EP at 2:36. It feels like filler, or like an intro to a song that sounds just like it. Jenni plays an unaccompanied acoustic guitar on “Goodnos”. Her vocals are lilting and sparse, like Chan Marshall, but more authentic in their despair. A sparkling pop sensibility isn’t what Jenni specializes in. She is sad, angry, bitter and she’s showing it. “April” and “Tunnel City” follow in suit, with Michael Harris jumping in duet-style on vocals for “Tunnel City”. Sometimes the poppy drums and tawdry fills make it seem like a fitting favorite on your Mom’s radio station back home, but the intensity in her voice betrays that genre all together. There is more going on here, her heart is breaking in every song. Jenni is definitely consistent in her sound… maybe too consistent. The songs all flow together and her delivery is silky smooth, but in an album of work, even one as short as an EP, you have to have a bit of variety. A high to the low, some sugar and some spice. Through all this Jenni uses her music as a tool to hash things out, and in the process reveals to us what is sometimes the hardest thing to let people see - who we really are. Jenni Potts will have a career in music, just as long as she is still feeling, hurting, searching and singing.

Fall has finally come to D.C. after weeks of the summer heat pussy-footing around in an unwelcome nag. Unfortunately, the brisk breezes and crisp air translate into chilly nights and the 40-minute wait outside the venue during soundcheck wasn’t the most pleasant. During this dead time I was surrounded by a battalion of under-21s flirting by pushing and talking about sex like it was the holy grail. It was clear that the majority there were either college students who didn’t have to get up before 9:00 on Monday or high school kids who simply didn’t give a shit that they had to. After finally being admitted by a ponytailed dude wearing a Hot Topic gauntlet fit for eviscerating lions in the Coliseum, I headed up to the ever-reliable bar.

The opening band took stage shortly after my first drink was ordered, but watching the Sox mop up the Series won my time in a rather foregone conclusion. Manchester Orchestra, the second-billed act that took the stage after the opener (whose name I can’t recall) has been touring with The Annuals since August. I didn’t catch all that much of their thunderous guitar attack, so I can’t comment on the band beyond a cursory appraisal. The rhythms were tight, the energy was high, and the guitarist and bassist looked curiously like Stone Gossard and Mike McCready circa Pearl Jam’s 1992 performance on SNL. After hearing a song that sounded like a crushing, distorted rendition of “The Thin Ice” by Pink Floyd, I opted for giving continued attention to the Boys from Beantown before the main act took the stage.

Finally, The Annuals took their place below the lights. Skin deep, the band is a hodgepodge of glove-fit indie elements. Singer/keyboardist Adam Baker fits the lit-rock bill down to the wire with the 3-week facial hair and suede vest. Pianist/keyboardist Anna Spence, who strikes first impressions as a talented version of Donna from That 70s Show towered over the other male members of the band, while a likely-teenaged Zack Oden flitted between strumming and acting as the band’s second drummer. A young band with a critically-acclaimed debut album, The Annuals are ripe for skyrocketing out of college airwaves and into a wider audience.

Musically, the band is hard to nail down, but what is undeniable is the North Carolina sextet’s energy. Baker frequently flew into wild-eyed frenzies of yowling vocals, looking like a stomped-on cat in plaid. His neck tendon vocal attack on “Carry Arround” flew in and out of Spence’s swoosh of Flaming Lips-esque phaser effects with reckless abandon. In the course of the bubbling jabber of a great song from Be He Me, the band rocked out under Baker’s unlikely rallying call of “I got lots of pills in my pocket.”

From the rollicking circus swells of “Complete or Completing” to the unhinged mix of campfire sing-along and Queen contained in “Dry Clothes,” The Annuals put on a furious parade of sights and sounds. Much of the set had more of a feel of a relay race than a traditional performance, with multiple band members trading instruments either between or during songs. Deftly maneuvering on the stage packed to the floorboards with gear, Baker hammered on a snare in between keyboard lines and two drum sets used to their full and mighty potential.

Flutters of Atari-sounding midi formed the segues between the band’s songs, originating from some curious device on the side of Baker’s keyboard. It could have been an iPod for all I know, but the mysterious object made for some great opening builds in the band’s songs. Preferring to let the songs do the talking, the band had minimal interaction with the crowd, with a few wry interjections here and there. The standout was guitarist Kenny Florence murmuring, “if we can see some movement in the crowd, things gonna get a little honky tonk.” They did indeed.

The band capitalized on the fury of its propulsive songs for the one-hour set, gathering the strength of its members like the Planeteers summoning forth the sum of their powers to fuck up the looters and polluters. The Be He Me single “Brother” dropped an A-bomb of sound after the subdued opening of brooding vocals and chirping synth fanfare that whipped the modest crowd up into headbangs. Andy Hull of Manchester Orchestra took the stage to add ammunition to the already wall-busting furor of four Annuals vocalists.

After ending on a crushing mesh of funk and power chords that rippled through the tiny venue, the night was over. Another satisfying night at the R&R kept my mind occupied on the irritatingly long trek back to the nearest metro station. Keep on rocking, North Carolina.

-MATT WENDUS