Vitalic’s dirty candy…

Ya know, sometimes on a Thursday night, in the early evening — like happy hour early — I want to bring the club home. The girl in the stilettos, too. But more so  bounce hard to some dirty electro at cops knocking on your door volume. Inside my apartment. Who better to hit repeat on than the mayhem instigator orchestrating nocturnal dance music Vitalic.

The strobe light-like pulse and gutter bass rages on “Candy”….

“Newman” wastes no time with its hypnotic bass that swirls round and round, all while a demonic synth hits harder than I want the cops to knock on my door….

Tesla Boy’s taboo fantasy…

While some in Moscow are protesting, others are creating Michael Sembello influenced masterpieces. Moscow’s Tesla Boy concoct Korg heavy pieces that shimmer, radiate funk, and bring the sound of yesterday to today’s cones and woofers. 2012’s “Fantasy”, the lead single from the heavier forthcoming record, paints a tale of lust, one that speaks openly about what most all are thinking; instead of pent-up thoughts and emotions, Tesla Boy unleashes these fantasies via a pulsating sound inciting a riot full of explosiveness, a burst of energy, a jolt of electro-pop so intricately curated, this sound isn’t anyone’s but their own.

Portland’s Typhoon take it to the Chapel…

An EP is easy to return to. Its blessing is the conciseness in it. Rarely is a band including filler in a five track EP. One can trust each track was purposefully placed to make as great of an impact as possible. The EP and its brilliance in brevity and exquisite quality has been well documented: I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness & Home IV featuring Bright Eyes and Britt Daniel are standards in this aural delivery. Typhoon now, too. This act out of Portland may only feature 1/10 of a full-size orchestra, but what they lack in musicians, they makeup in unadulterated musicianship.

Paste magazine’s Ryan Reed turned me onto this 11/12 piece act ‘s A New Kind of House EP in 2011 and also sold me better than I can attempt to sell you:

Music critics throw around adjectives like “orchestral” and “expansive” all the time these days. But here’s a band that actually deserves such labels. Portland’s Typhoon is an indie rock geek’s dream: a dynamic 12-piece with a seemingly unending reservoir of energy, emotive vocals, arpeggiated guitars, horns, multiple drum kits, strings—there are so many sonic details crammed into the five tracks on A New Kind of House, the band’s second official release, that you might need two pairs of headphones to properly connect the dots.—Ryan Reed

2010’s Hunger & Thirst and the aforementioned 2011 A New Kind of House EP are all we have to experience true symphonic rock at its finest. Now, thanks to Fuel Friends blog, we are graced with an intimate live set taken place in a house of worship. Out of these four tracks, three are new; the other, CPR/Claws Pt. 2, is more glorious and captivating than the first celestial experience it sent you on.

Fuel/Friends Chapel Session #17: Typhoon

My Friend Dario and the hand dryer…

Music evokes emotions. It’s also meant to stimulate gay movement, steps and hip swinging that are synonymous with an uplifting and pleasant mood. But music can also incite pandemonium. Vitalic, the French wizard reminiscent of Daft Punk when they’re hard-wired for a dark, edgier than ever evening, composed the highly acclaimed and definitely revered ’round these parts OK Cowboy in 2005. Off that record was “My Friend Dario”, a rager of a track with a throbbing bass line and start and stop explosions of ecstasy meets chaos. The video captured it beautifully in an artistic manner.

This morning I wanted to rev up my metabolism. I ventured over to the gym; before hitting up whatever routine was going to sporadically come to mind, I hit the locker room. Whatever, wherever, my life is usually set to a soundtrack. My “Let’s Get Physical” play list was in motion. The gym tries to cater to all sorts, so the hand dryers are set at different heights. One is to the extreme and the other is to the extreme. One I have to practically bend down to use, and the other, I have to almost jump to grab the net to turn on. I skip around the corner, see a rather large individual, one that’s easily 6’2″ and a good 250 with dark, long hair utilizing the taller dryer. No, not for his hands. His death metal locks need to be wrung out. This 80s ex-hairband bassist is gyrating his head as if he’s envisioning Metallica’s Ride the Lightning performed before him. A demonic like pandemonium came over this fella.  And what’s playing as I’m taking this spectacle in? Vitalic’s “My Friend Dario”.

Chicago’s Caviar…

She got the gold mine; I got the shaft…

This blog is bogus. I proclaim I’m sharing music I truly dig with you. But returning to the archives showcases only a few acts I hope to cheerlead for until my ear drums are blown out. A joke, but there are many acts I’ve held on the highest  pedestal who’ve yet to grace these pages. It’s a jagged peak, one that once is surmounted, opens up all the posts one can generate. Some acts you covet so much you’d hate to butcher their MiS debut.

Caviar, a guitar driven act that gave nods to the modern rock sound of the mid-to late 90s, has never been formally introduced.  Figdish, their predecessor, has been mentioned. What Caviar reincarnated into got a few nods — and they are the best supergroup ever. Caviar’s late 90s’ sound was fresh to me. Yes, they hopped on the electronica sound — without this direction, The Prairie Cartel most likely wouldn’t exist — but used those elements sparingly to channel an amalgamation of the sound of before with a direction that accentuated them well: Multi-layered tracks marinaded in crunchy, hard-hitting guitars with a bright appeal courtesy of keys and perfectly placed samples over witty lyricism.

Take “Goldmine”, an indifferent sounding vocal delivery proclaiming one’s inferiority to an unreachable female prize. With loud, chugging guitar lines, a light sprinkle of piano melody, and a shameless approach to woman and pop music in general, “Goldmine” speaks highly of Caviar’s true character.

Since they left us…

I don’t care if it was released in 2000. Nor that this Melbourne act only has released one record, one so mind bending that you don’t just sample a song; you lose yourself in this journey these masterminds envisioned: A trip of abstract thought meant to keep your mind mesmerized and your body in constant juke fashion. The Avalanches’ forthcoming record has been a long time coming. Pitchfork dropped some facts upon us today in a spread entitled “What We Know” to whet our appetites for this 2012 release.

Pitchfork’s The Avalanches’ New Album: What We Know

This long player from way back is one of the only reasons I unshuffle iTunes. An 18 track experiment  in funk and groove that you might not realize, is one of the strongest dance records radiating out of your speakers.

The Avalanches :: Since I Left You

Symphonic rock at the Bluebird Theater…

Opening up for an act has its many advantages. Hey Rosetta!, the aforementioned sextet my Canadian virtuoso Hawksley Workman cheerleads for, preceded Bombay Bicycle Club on Monday evening. First, you’re playing to a sold-out crowd who more than likely came for the headliner. Bring everything you can and win over new listeners. Second, time is of the essence. Not necessarily a fault for not having the audience you deserve. With the clock ticking down, the act knows there are no songs to include in the set where people begin chatting about Mars, perusing their mother’s Facebook status, or seeing if anyone has visited their OK Cupid’s profile page in the last 25 minutes. Hey Rosetta! not only packed in a set consisting of “New Goodbye” and “Seeds”, amongst other impactful orchestrated movers, they also showcased what a finely tuned outfit can do with minimal time: Captivate a crowd and leave them wanting just one more.

Lose yourself in the sextet’s eruption of intricately pieced together sound.

Picture perfect photography courtesy of Lisa Higginbotham:

Hey Rosetta!

“Today, do you still enjoy going to concerts?”, inquired a friend who’s known me longer than your favorite act has been together. With time my hunger for live music hasn’t diminished. The opposite is the reality. Being in an area where no major cities are within a reasonable distance, acts simply don’t have a reason to roll through. Again, they most certainly do but not with any consistency. When that band, one I play more than others does, I’m psyched and grateful. So, yes, going to a show, one where the act brings the record alive, is something I crave. It best never be something I don’t.

A sweet cacophony has been seeping out of New Foundland for awhile. The recipe consists of a sextet bristling with energy, an explosive aura encapsulates them– the wick is set, it slowly burns, and when ready, or the emotional message behind each number has been conveyed behind light, swaying-like melodies, the song bursts into a vibrant, epic sound. Hey Rosetta!  hold the ability to create mini symphonies amongst their multi-layered sounds drenched in passionate lyricism.

Hey Rosetta! brings this energy to Denver’s Bluebird Theater on Monday. Expectations are set that even if some have outgrown the live experience, I will be there as wide-eyed and anxious as when my club hopping began.

Hey Rosetta! :: Seeds

Hippie Priest Bum-out…

Chicago has a reputation with some that if the audience doesn’t know the music first hand, no one is moving. Yea, Chi don’t dance no more style. And in that great city’s defense, my experience has been your cities don’t move much either. But what happens when you know who’s behind the decks and that maestro is playing his favorite cuts you know nothing of? The controller of the evening can have a massive impact.

Fast forward a year and a half since the demise of LCD Soundsytem and front man James Murphy hasn’t lost his edge: His post-punk meets disco knowledge when applied to the speakers still brings in bodies ready to be juked. In heavy droves. James and his beat keeper Pat Mahoney spun to an almost sold-out, dance filled crowd Thursday night at the Boulder Theater. Their weapons of choice are an eclectic mix of disco stars only James and a few select ears are privy to. More tracks are older than the average 2012 groove fan.”We’re playing some weird tracks”, uttered James as he thanked the beat happy crowd for showing this DJ duo respect by forgetting the weekend has yet to arrive and pulsated with every disco-tinged wax track.

If the flow is right, the tracks all have a theme — energy — and the crowd embraces what the DJ strives for, moving in unison to the beats are inevitable. Does it really matter that the hippest retired rocker is orchestrating the soundtrack to your evening?

Presets Present Youth in Trouble…

Anticipation. It used to be a thing we all knew so well. I’m becoming re-acquainted with it, and I’ve realized it’s been missed. Heavily. Believe it or not, records had and still do, have release dates. Not so long ago, when records were released was irrelevant to me because of snagging the leak. I’ve fought hard, or almost what it must be for junkies needing a fix, to relinquish my thirst for the record before it’s time. On those Tuesday mornings, there is now an extra bounce in my step; I fire up the dashboard and my go-to new releases site to see what the day aurally brings. Waiting is worth it again.

The Presets are back at it — the Aussie, hard hitting. dark electro act.  Thanks to their tinges of disco, nods to Mortal Kombat, and plenty of hard bounce, they continue to bring the club to my apartment. This duo is slowly whetting my appetite for their follow-up to Apocalypso, Pacifco, the new LP out 9/14. A few weeks back their initial single, “Youth in Trouble”, was unleashed upon us. And now, we’re graced with three remixes of the lead single.

Let the builds marinade in pulsating beats while your speakers visually shake and breathe in and out…