Japandroids: Just Another Reason I'm Proud to be (Partially) Canadian

With all of this bizarre vampire hype going on these days (which I was fortunate enough to avoid), I finally found a type of blood that I was actually interested in. Hint: it is not sucked out of a neck. Any guesses? How about blood from some surfers who aren’t, in fact, surfers? How about now, anything?

Gigantic Ears readers: prepare yourself for the next big thing—Surfer Blood. This five-man band from West Palm Beach, Florida recorded their debut album Astro Coast in a dorm room freshman year at the University of Florida. They are just getting started in the music business and have no intention of stopping, nor should they.

I hadn’t heard of these guys until just a couple days before I saw them open for Japandroids on November 20^th. And, like most of the “indie-esque” concerts I attend, this was at the Billiken Club at Saint Louis University, a free, all-ages venue where your ears’ wildest dreams come true. At least that night they did.

A couple of people I had talked with prior to the show had described Surfer Blood as a younger version of Weezer. I was really looking forward to seeing them play; who doesn’t like a little Weezer from time to time? Going in, my expectations were high, and I was not disappointed. By the time their first song was over, I decided they were less vocally Weezer, more We Are Scientists. However, a tinge of Weezer seemed to always be lingering in the background of their songs, made evident with their guitar style (compare Surfer Blood’s “Harmonix” with Weezer’s “Freak Me Out”), and drumming, with strong downbeats while still maintaining a positive energy.

In addition, Surfer Blood seemed to strike a perfect balance of post-punk guitar riffs, catchy lyrics (see: “Swim” on their new album), and an upbeat rhythm. The majority of their songs seemed to compel my body and others around me to move in a wave-like motion—no connection with the name of the band. The crowd was mesmerized; this may or may not have been the beginning of the crowd’s unexpected raging during Japandroids. At the end of their set, during an instrumental interlude, the guitarist Thomas helped feed the hungry crowd even more, as if their music wasn’t enough. He grabbed a drum, set it in the audience, and then handed two front-row high schoolers some drumsticks and let them pound away. This spontaneity embodied not only remarkable crowd interaction, but also helped carry over appropriate vibes to Japandroids’ set.

Ahh yes, Japandroids. This duo from Vancouver consists of Brian on lead vocals and guitar, and David on backup vocals and drums. One, two, that’s all. But if you closed your eyes and listened, you would never have known that there were only two creating this epitome of garage band rock.

The boys wasted no time in starting up their first song; I made a face. Their music was harder than I normally am drawn to; I usually don’t delve much further than The Mars Volta. However, as their songs went on and I remembered not to judge a band by it’s first couple songs, (or in this case, it's “Darkness on the Edge of Gastown”), I realized I had fallen in love.

First off, they had so much passion! Having only two members in a band alone shows how much work must go into the music, especially when aiming for a larger sound (which they succeeded at). Secondly, their lyrics seem to be sincere. Their song “Young Hearts Spark Fire” states, “we used to dream, now we worry about dying.” Their vulnerability and fear of growing up is apparent, and may actually cause one to feel a pang or two of emotion. (Even you, emotionless Hipster boys!) Finally, this was just an all around amazing performance. Sweating through their shirts almost instantly after jumping onstage, this Canadian twosome hardly took a moment’s breath between each heavy-breathing song. This Billiken Club show was the first time Japandroids had played in America since touring in Europe, and I was loving every minute of it, as were they.

Earlier, in reviewing Surfer Blood, I mentioned the raging done at this show was unexpected. Not because I didn’t expect Japandroids to tear it up, but because I have never witnessed liveliness to this extent at the B-Club before. Whatever the cause, the crowd was feelin’ it. At one point, some kid attempted crowd surfing (there were barely 200 people there, emphasis on attempt), and later, during the song “Heart Sweats”, some dude jumped onstage and screamed along with Brian, “some hearts bleed, our hearts sweat!”

When the show was over, a lightheaded crowd slowly dispersed, and I had my chance to converse a bit with David, the drummer. After a joke about almost running my foot over with a cart and an awkward introduction, I told him about my Canadian roots, an obvious similarity between the two of us. We also were able to chat for short bit about the Maple Leafs, the Red Wings, and how he used to hate the city of Toronto, but has a newfound appreciation for it. Good choice David, good choice. Also, I like your accent.

To all of you who may have the chance to see Surfer Blood and/or Japandroids, go. Seriously, GO. You will not regret it.

Peace, Surfers & Canada,

Pigeon Toed

Death Rides a Horse

or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Heavy Metal
By: sanbasl

In the super-realistic dystopian representation of the year 2027 in 2006’s Children of Men, Theo Faron (Clive Owen) complains of his ears ringing due to a much to close bomb blast. His ex-wife Julian Taylor (Julianne Moore, happy birthday btw) explains that the ringing of eardrums is actually the last time he will hear that frequency and it is a sort of “swan song”. I know your troubles, Theo.

Somewhere along the way of Bon Iver and Andrew Bird records, I nearly forgot something important: metal can be a very real, very powerful and a VERY badass way of expressing oneself. My experience at DC9 last night ripped me headbanging back to that reality. I won tickets from The AV Club DC to Russian Circles and Young Widows and was pretty pumped about it. Ever since witnessing the metalocalypse at The Mirimar Theatre freshman year while simultaneously upstaging my faves Minus the Bear, Russian Circles have always been on my radar. On the record they work ok, but their brand of cataclysmic post-rock is meant to be live, experienced and fucking blasted.

I searched around a bit before the show to find someone to join me, and I wasn’t too surprised that no one bit. By the time I got to the show, I was actually kind of glad none of my DC acquaintances wanted to come, because it would have been pretty awkward. Everyone at the show looked and smelled like Jimmy John’s employees. I ran into five separate smelly dudes with dark graying hair, beards and the same red flannel, that I (of course) was sporting last night. However, it was refreshing to see no one with socks matching their pocket squares, like much of the DC I have experienced. I settled down pretty close to the stage after Phantom Family Halo finished, because I was expecting Russian Circles to be next. I was mistaken. Dudes, who I thought were roadies, began moving monstrous equipment onto the “stage”, which was really just a step up. Two gigantic full-stacks with four amps were quickly set up and switched on. I asked the sandwich artist next to me who they were and he explained it was Young Widows. I had no idea what I was in for.

House lights were dropped, and immediately spotlights that were lodged inside their amps glared with the first thrash of their instruments. The three-piece band began playing what I can only describe as uncontrolled, yet precise cacophony. I was so bewildered and shocked for the first two minutes: then the breakdown came in. I was head banging like the best of them. Young Widows continued to pulverize my eardrums for nearly an hour, and I kept thanking them for it. As I listened closer, I noticed the serious knack for rhythm they had. The bassist literally used his head for a metronome that knocked down on every odd beat they constructed. By the end of their set my ears were crashing, my head was spinning and my neck was aching. But man was I pumped.

I recognized the members of Russian Circles immediately. As Tim Myers pointed out to me, the drummer looks a lot like Justin Long of annoying Apple fame until you look directly at him, and then you’re terrified. He’s like that baby doll in Sid’s room in Toy Story: he’s kinda cute until you realize he’s missing an eye and constructed out of metal (read: drum kit). For their extensive pedal boards and towering amps, the Circles set up really fast. I guess it’s nice when you don’t have to do mic checks (Check 1, Check 2). And they got right down to it.

I forgot how unfairly talented this band is, but they showed me. They moved through their set the way a conquering tank rolls through new land: slowly but powerful and terrifying all the same. Employing looping stations, delay pedals, a shit-ton of reverb and face-melting tapping, Mike Sullivan showed me what it meant to be one with a guitar. Riffs built upon themselves in a deliberate fashion, giving even Phil Spector goose bumps. Forget the Wall of Sound; they were the Iron Curtain of Sound. And the drumming! Dear lord, the drumming! The sounds were so large, I literally thought the floorboards were going to come crashing down, and we would all fall to our rightful deaths. But they didn’t. Last night’s show may be evidence that the world will end in 2012 if officials allow Russian Circles to keep playing the way they do. I could see their show being the catalyst for the End of Days, forcing John Cusack to fly off a disintegrating runway in real life. At the end of the show I was dizzy from the head crushing abuse I gladly inflicted upon myself.

Last night’s show taught me some important things, namely that there are other counter-culture scenes out there that are doing some real things for progress that isn’t indie rock. I was part of a poorly represented but incredibly enthusiastic movement last night, and that feeling really hard to find. I remembered that metal or hardcore or post-rock or what-have-you doesn’t have to be flashy or theatrical or emo-fied or lame or anything other than just some dudes to be blistering and completely enjoyable. You will very rarely find a more talented musician or a more enthused fan outside of that sub-culture. I also learned that I really need ear plugs.

My ears are in complete disarray today. I didn’t hear my alarm and my balance is still thrown off. If a ring is actually the last time that frequency is heard, I’m hearing less a swan song than a swan chorus. I hope Julian Taylor is wrong, but if she’s not, I guess I’m ok with that.