American Music Club & Lisa Papineau, Vienna WUK, 13 March 2008

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Mark Eitzel keeps getting better and better. Last Thursday’s concert by his group American Music Club was a blissful revelation, filled with the kind of emotionally acute and musically rich songwriting at which he excels. While there were many more people in the audience than attended his last solo appearance in Vienna, the WUK was by no means full, which is a sad state of affairs but also a fair reflection of Eitzel’s approach to his music – worldly, defiant and helplessly uncommercial.

An endearing and occasionally shambolic live performer, Eitzel was in fine mood, prefacing many of the songs with little spoken tableaux and revelling in musical exchanges with guitarist Vudi (whose own extempore blues number, delivered while Eitzel was attending to an unco-operative guitar, was a joy). Vudi’s playing was shimmering and potent, but Eitzel is no slouch on guitar either, and the two men’s vivid sparring was crucial to the sustaining of the wide-screen AMC sound. Nowhere was this filmic quality more apparent than on the emotional highwire of ‘Johnny Mathis’s Feet’, where Eitzel’s rich and dark voice gave epic weight to the lyric’s tortured self-questioning.

It was wonderful to see Eitzel so obviously touched by the extent and warmth of the audience’s appreciation, which generated three richly deserved encores. The final acoustic reading of ‘Firefly’, delivered in generous response to a deranged fan’s pleading (it was me, I confess), was as gleaming and evanescent as the fireflies themselves: “They don’t live too long, just a flash and then they’re gone…”

Those who arrived early had the pleasure of seeing a fine support set from American singer and musician Lisa Papineau and her band. Papineau’s songs are like miniature expressionist dramas, delivered via winning electronic textures and a percussive attack that perfectly holds the line between intricacy and clout. Strikingly attired in a stylish black dress, Papineau has a strong bluesy voice and a compelling onstage presence. Stabbing insistently away at her keyboard, she performed jerky dance moves that mirrored the spiky, uncompromising nature of her songs. “I’m not a very good dancer,” she told the audience ruefully, but there was something twisted and melancholy about her movements that gripped the attention utterly. Partway through the set, Eitzel joined her for a rich, sensitive duet, their voices entwined in seductive interplay. Here’s hoping she returns to Vienna for a show of her own soon.

Nina Nastasia, Vienna Fluc Wanne, 3 March 2008

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A somewhat frustrating concert last night by Nina Nastasia in the pleasantly distressed surroundings of the Fluc Wanne. I spoke to some people who hadn’t been there before and who told me they had been wandering around the entire Praterstern area for over an hour looking for the place. I like the fact that it doesn’t draw attention to itself, to the extent of not even having a sign with its name. And even if you manage to find the Fluc itself, it’s very easy to miss the basement part.

Nastasia is a gifted singer, songwriter and guitarist, but as a performer she’s hard to love. Her songs are brittle and intimate; although she sits alone on stage with an acoustic guitar, she is not by any stretch a folk singer. Her voice is chillingly precise, her guitar playing fluid and sparkling; while her lyrics speak evocatively of night-time, ghosts and blood on the road.

The problem, to these ears, is that many of her songs are simply too short. They sound like fleeting sketches; just when they sound like they are about to take flight, they fizzle out. Nastasia frequently misses the opportunity to instil drama into a song through insistence and repetition. She clearly realises that “This Is What It Is” is her best song, since she saves it to the end of the set; yet this was one of the few songs where the music and words were given the space and openness they merited.

Secondly, her performance last night was annoyingly diffident. She didn’t speak to the audience at all at first, and when she did, it was to discuss a piece of graffiti she’d seen on a toilet wall. She took a request – fine, but then she just shrugged at the audience as if to say “any more?” And when she extemporised “this is a sucky version of this song” during “A Dog’s Life”, it was as though she’d given up on the idea of capturing the audience’s attention through authoritative performance.

I’ve always believed that artists have certain obligations to their live audiences to put on a memorable performance; that basically amounts to not much more than putting in a reasonable amount of effort. The greatest live performers I’ve seen – Hammill, Gira, Springsteen – understand this instinctively. For all her undoubted talents, I don’t think Nina Nastasia does.

hello

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I felt like making a website where I could put all the things I’ve written about music in one place. So here it is.

Most of the album reviews I’ve written (mostly for The Sound Projector) are on the site. There’s also previews (not much use, I know) of past live concerts in Vienna, taken from my monthly column for Ether, live reviews and a few letters to the press.

By the way, don’t expect too many updates to this site. I’m not going to be posting album reviews here regularly. The site is more like an archive, really. Still, I hope you find something of interest. Let me know what you think, please.

Ether column, February 2008

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Regular readers of this column will know that I hardly ever recommend upcoming concerts by big name artists, on the grounds that they get quite enough publicity as it is without me adding to it. I’m happy to make an exception, however, in the case of Neil Young, who comes to Vienna this month as part of a very rare European tour. Young is a brave, stubborn and dauntingly creative individual who has been making music for over 40 years. Although he is Canadian by birth, his songs build into a mythic form of Americana, tapping effortlessly into both acoustic folk and electric rock forms. There are few more exciting sounds in rock than Young’s incendiary electric guitar playing, while as an acoustic guitarist and singer he catches a perfect note of desolate yearning. On this tour, Young promises to play two full sets, one acoustic and one electric, a combination which will showcase both sides of his awesome talent.

Two further concerts this month bring contrasting aspects of contemporary American rock to Vienna. Earth are a doomy guitar outfit led by Dylan Carlson, who was a close friend of Kurt Cobain and bought the shotgun with which the Nirvana singer killed himself. Their signature sound is best described as a slowed-down, drone-based form of Metal, although on their 2005 album Hex Carlson’s guitar style became markedly lighter and more countrified. Earth were last seen in Vienna in 2006, when they found themselves in the strange position of playing support to a band who were formed in tribute to them (the even more droney and Metallic Sunn O)))). This time, they deservedly take the stage as headliners, and their own support act is well worth catching – experimental guitarist and former member of Sun City Girls, Richard Bishop.

Finally, there’s an intriguing event at the Arena this month, the Maximum Black Festival. The story of how it came about is a good one. The Wiener Stadtwerke (the parent company of Wien Energie and Wiener Linien) wanted to use a piece of music by Canadian singer and violinist Owen Pallett, who records and performs under the name Final Fantasy, in an advertisement. When Pallett refused, the company went ahead and used an unauthorised cover version anyway. Naturally, Pallett was fuming, but he was placated by a remarkable offer from the WS – they would finance a day-long festival curated by him. And here it is – not only Pallett, but also juddering trio Deerhoof, idiosyncratic alt-rockers Frog Eyes, lo-fi noiseniks Dirty Projectors and, best of all, the pulsating guitar-driven mandalas of Six Organs of Admittance. Think about it – where else in the world would you find a public works company sponsoring a line-up like that?

Earth & Richard Bishop, Vienna Szene Wien, 24 February 2008

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A very strong concert at the Szene Wien last night by American drone-metallers Earth. The music unfolded at a slow, rigidly controlled pace and barely deviated from it throughout, shaped by the funereal pulse of the drums and the colossal hum of Dylan Carlson’s guitar. Carlson spoke little except to introduce the songs, but he was an impressive onstage figure, looking like he’d walked in from a Tarantino film with his long moustache and slicked back hair. As a guitarist he was a picture of concentration, holding the neck high and gazing fixedly at the strings while playing with a surprising delicacy and finesse.

The group were clearly making an attempt to lighten their sound with the inclusion of keyboard and trombone patterns. Others may disagree, but I could easily have done without these embellishments; they were an unnecessary and unwelcome distraction from the group’s perversely inspiring core sound. I also found myself wishing for slightly more thump from the drums. These reservations notwithstanding, Earth proved themselves to be an uncannily potent force.

Early birds had the good fortune to witness former Sun City Girl Richard Bishop on solo electric guitar. He’s an awesomely talented player, and it was great to see that his mighty technique never descended into empty-headed twiddling. Instead, the music swarmed hectically around the hall, with clouds of notes emerging and resolving into beautifully complex configurations.

Falling slowly: Once gets an Academy Award

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Three cheers to Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova for winning the Academy Award for best original song for “Falling Slowly” from the film Once. Never was an honour more richly deserved. I saw the film during its brief theatrical release in British cinemas last year and was overwhelmed by its charm, humour and romantic allure. Not to mention the heart-melting soundtrack of songs at its core, of which “Falling Slowly” is perhaps the most sublimely affecting.

Neil Young, Austria Center Vienna, 22 February 2008

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A storming three-hour show last night by Neil Young in the unlikely surroundings of the Austria Center. (In fact the sound was better than expected, although the sightlines were predictably poor.)

The first set saw Young deliver a set of lovely solo acoustic songs, switching between guitar and piano (with one song on banjo). I enjoyed watching him wander among his guitars before each song, seemingly trying to decide which of his old friends to hold a conversation with. It’s wonderful the way these songs take the everyday and quotidian and invest them with such mystical, charged significance. And after all these years, his voice is still a thing of beauty. “After the Gold Rush” was just spellbinding. A great shame he didn’t speak at all between songs, though – the fact that he never addressed the audience made the set feel considerably less intimate (insofar as any gig in a conference centre could ever be called intimate) and gave it the air of a formal recital.

For the second part of the evening, though, no talking was required; Young’s electric guitar spoke more eloquently than any words could have done. When “Hey Hey My My” kicked in the hall just erupted, and there was even an announcement from Young at the song’s end (which presumably he had had relayed to him from the side of the stage), to the effect that the venue management were concerned about the resilience of the floor to too much jumping up and down. (The hall is on the first floor of the centre.) The electric storm didn’t subside until almost two hours later. “Powderfinger” was massive, “Cinnamon Girl” wild, but the undoubted highlight was a song I hadn’t heard before, “No Hidden Path”. This monster proceeded for what must have been at least 20 minutes, with Young spitting molten fire from his guitar every second. Just… immense.

It wasn’t until someone pointed it out to me that I noticed that there was a bloke in a cowboy hat onstage, painting on canvas during the whole of the first set. It was some kind of picture of two birds in a field. At the start of each song during the second set, a painting depicting that song was placed on an easel at stage left. The bird painting, evidently finished by then, made its appearance during the song “Winterlong”, which Young dedicated to his late band member Danny Whitten. This primitivist multimedia presentation seemed to reinforce my overriding impression of Young’s music – wholehearted, slightly ramshackle and formidably evocative.

Carla Bruni, Quelqu’un ma dit

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I read today – OK, I’m slow on the uptake – that the French singer Carla Bruni has finally married President Sarkozy after a short romance. With this news, her public profile continues to increase. She is someone I’ve admired for several years; I went to Paris in July 2003, trying to get my head straight after the death of my dear mother, and through a friend’s recommendation discovered her first album, Quelqu’un ma dit. It’s an album that has never been far from my mind since then, due to the lingering effects of Bruni’s wistful voice, romantic lyrics and fluid guitar. I very much enjoyed the fact that, because she sang in French, she hadn’t been through the British media circus. Until her relationship with Sarkozy began, Bruni was little known outside France, and to the best of my knowledge had played few concerts elsewhere. It was as though she didn’t much care for widespread British and American acceptance, and I loved that. Although the album was no doubt massively popular in continental Europe, I still felt like it was “my” album.

I had high hopes of the follow-up, No Promises, but sadly have been a little disappointed by it. In the first place, it’s sung in English. No doubt Bruni doesn’t need much help with her public profile any more, but I hope the decision to sing in English wasn’t made out of a desire to engage with the UK and US “markets”. And secondly, it’s not an album of original songs but a collection of settings of poems. I can’t fault the selection – Yeats, Auden, Dickinson – but still I can’t help wishing that Bruni had penned another set of lyrics to sit alongside the peerless romanticism of the first album.

Anyway, what with Valentine’s Day coming up and all, here’s a rough-and-ready English translation of Carla Bruni’s best song, the lorn and lovely “Quelqu’un ma dit”:

Someone told me our lives aren’t worth much
They pass in a moment, like a dying rose
Someone told me time is a bastard
making an overcoat of our sorrows
Someone told me
that you still loved me
Could it be true?

Someone told me destiny mocks us
it promises everything and gives us nothing
it seems that happiness is within our reach
so we hold out our hands and we find ourselves mad
Someone told me
that you still loved me
Could it be true?

But who was it that told me you still loved me?
I don’t recall, it was late at night
I can still hear the voice, but I can’t see the face
“he loves you, it’s a secret, don’t tell him I told you”
you see, someone told me
someone really did tell me
that you still loved me
Could it be true?

This translation © Richard Rees Jones 2008.

Birgit Denk, Vienna, 2 February 2008

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Saw my first concert of 2008 on Saturday night – an “ausgsteckt” (unplugged) performance by Austrian singer Birgit Denk and her band. This was an unusual one for me, partly because it was much poppier fare than I’m used to, but more importantly because Birgit Denk sings only in German, and therefore I had no idea what she was singing about. I knew this before going, of course, but what I hadn’t expected was that she’s also something of a stand-up comedian, punctuating the songs with lengthy and, judging by the audience’s hearty reactions, highly comic monologues.

The impassable language barrier didn’t, however, impede my enjoyment of the gig at all. In fact, it added a distinct zest to the evening. As far as I can tell, Denk sings in a heavily accented Viennese dialect, which might make understanding her songs challenging even to a non-Viennese or standard German speaker. There was a sense of being in a cultural setting made seductive by its strangeness – a feeling of comfort and familiarity (the music wasn’t anything that would frighten the horses) mixed with the intriguingly different. Plus, this city has been my home for the past two years and I welcome anything that enhances my understanding and appreciation of its cultural heartbeat.

Anyway, the concert was great. An engaging and natural performer, Denk delivered tremulous ballads, grandstanding show tunes and rollicking footstompers with equal verve and passion. Her accomplished band framed her warm and unaffected voice with infectious sounds – deft guitar work, splashes of bouzouki and mandolin, jazzy keyboard and accordion interludes. I came away at the end of the two-hour set feeling thoroughly entertained, buoyed up with good cheer and – despite my almost complete lack of linguistic understanding – just a little bit more Viennese.

Ether column, January 2008

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Who can resist a band with a name like Fuckhead? Not me, that’s for sure. And the fact that they are Austrian makes the prospect of an evening with them all the more appealing. Active since 1988, Fuckhead are a fusion of Industrial metal, intelligent dance music and Viennese Actionist performance art. The four-piece from Linz are notable for their confrontational live shows, which for a while earned them the distinction of being banned by the Austrian authorities. More often than not, a Fuckhead concert consists of the heavily tattooed (and all-male, sadly) group writhing on stage clad only in their underwear, or naked but for some strategically placed gaffer tape, eating sausages and simulating sex acts, with the entire spectacle soundtracked by punishing Metal textures. If that sounds like the sort of thing you would enjoy – and I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be – then be sure to be at the Chelsea on 31 January.

For those wishing for a more considered start to their 2008 gig-going, there’s always Iron & Wine. Lurking behind the group alias is US singer-songwriter Sam Beam, who has released three albums of folky, countrified alt-rock and is currently on tour promoting the most recent of these, The Shepherd’s Dog. Beam is a quietly inspired musician whose craftsmanlike approach to songcraft has drawn comparisons with stellar names such as Nick Drake, Paul Simon and Neil Young. Moving away from the scratchy, lo-fi sound of his earliest recordings, the new album sees Beam surrounding himself with a large cast of supporting musicians and building up an arsenal of lush instrumentation as a result. But the songs retain an air of melancholy and southern Gothic atmospheres that makes them utterly beguiling.

Meanwhile, Porgy & Bess starts 2008 as it no doubt means to go on with a series of intriguing jazz and world music concerts. The pick of these could well be the visit of the Czech singer and violinist Iva Bittova, performing as a duo with American bassist and saxophonist George Mraz. Bittova is a virtuoso performer whose work blends elements of Anglo-American rock and eastern European folk. Frequently confounding audience expectations, she plays the violin with various found objects and deploys a variety of vocal utterances ranging from straight ahead singing to childlike babbling and full-throated ululations. In Bittova’s practised hands, however, this range of approaches never descends into mere gimmickry. Instead, it seems like a natural outgrowth of the melodies and rhythms inherent in her self-composed music.