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Read and Produced by Lachlan Fletcher.

Stories written by David Adelman and Lachlan Fletcher.

Adam Green is greater than, not equal to, the Moldy Peaches (also, how Kimya Dawson ruined music)

Adam Green is legitimately weird. After seeing him perform with the Dead Trees at Petit Campus last Monday, I can’t tell if he’s been snorting too much blowcaine for the past 5 years or if he just actually reverts to his psychotic, 6 year old self on a sugar high when on stage. In either case, I can safely say Green is an incredibly libidinous artist. And yes, this article is basically the extent to which I can make use of my sociology minor in the real world.  It is now time for a staple preface that suggests I’m a very self-involved writer. 

As I have definitely mentioned in past articles, I watched a lot of Muchmusic’s The Wedge in my early adolescence, but this nightly blur of alternative music videos only really left me with a few distinct memories I have of the program today. One of these memories involves the Raveonettes, a band I was lucky enough to review earlier this year. A second memory involves Adam Green’s video for his single “Jessica”, which I found to be very strange at the time. Why would he be singing about Jessica Simpson? Who is this guy anyway? While this song remained stuck in my head for the next 6 or 7 years, I never really bothered to investigate his music further. This was, of course, until Kimya Dawson, Green’s musical partner in The Moldy Peaches single-handedly ruined popular culture with her bullshit contributions to Diablo Cody’s cutesy Juno soundtrack. 

I feel it is essential to discuss the absolutely terrible music of Kimya Dawson before continuing with the review in order to demonstrate just how unexpected Green’s performance was on April 19th. So, here it goes: Kimya Dawson’s music makes me wanna barf. Her shtick, her lyrics, almost everything about her makes me resent the fact I was born a woman, as well as the fact I’m a female who digs ‘alternative’ music. Of course it’s great that female artists are infiltrating the world of alternative music more and more with every passing year, but I find a lot of these popular artists in this ‘post Juno’ era are cashing in on Dawson’s formula; these female artists are basically profiting from self infantilization and intellectual regression. Seriously, lyrics about how much you love riding your bicycle, or eating ice cream, or doing handstands or whatever makes me want to, as my roommate Chelsea so eloquently put it, “slit my wrists and die”. As an individual so full of hate for everything Kimya Dawson touches, you can guess I had relatively low expectations for Adam Green’s set, half expecting her to tag along for a couple of duets. Thank the Lord almighty, this was not at all the case. 

On my way to Petit Campus, I wonder what kind of people will populate the venue. Answer: young girls who look like Ellen Page. I have a bad feeling about this. The show starts at 8pm and I show up more promptly than usual, only 10 minutes late. By 8:13, the first band is done. This seems absolutely ridiculous, and I was kind of looking forward to checking out openers the Dead Trees live. At about 8:30, the next band comes on. I figure this is Adam Green with a backing band. His voice sounds less deep and distinct than I remembered, but it still sounds great. In fact, in my notes I claimed he had the ‘perfect’ voice. He is also far more attractive than I recall, and the music sounds more like Abbey Road era Beatles than weird indie pop. After the first few songs, he says “We’re the Dead Trees from (I think) California” and everything makes sense. Apparently a third band, Construction Worker Blues, had tagged along with Green and the Dead Trees, playing their first-ever show in Montreal. Their set lasted about 10 minutes. The Dead Trees, I decided, were basically the Beatles, had the group been based in California. They looked kind of like the Beatles, made upbeat, jangly garage pop music with the occasional heavy, psychedelic breakdown and play incredibly well live, sounding much better than the few recordings I had heard on the internet. Apparently, they are asking fans for straight up cash donations in order to make the greatest album of all time, which seems weird and kind of wrong, but I think it’s quite possible for them to record an incredible album (basically their White Album) with a bit more experience.

When it came time for Adam Green’s set, I discover his back-up band will be the Dead Trees, and I’m kind of already sold. Bonus: he is wearing a sweet studded leather jacket and a sailor’s cap, the wonderful antithesis of Kimya Dawson’s staple bunny costume. He is wild-eyed, potentially hopped up on amphetamines and looks way too young for 28; Green is basically Andy Warhol’s wet dream. His voice is strange and incredibly deep, but super engaging and overwhelming, a likeable lounge singer voice that has been applied to much better music. He runs around the stage like a maniac and dances like the whitest man on the face of the planet (kind of like a K Tel Mini Pop on DXM). He also ends up making out with most of the chicks up by the stage. Basically, he’s way more rock and roll than expected. I’m also surprised his voice holds up while he’s jumping all around the stage. The music itself seems to cover a wide range of musical genres, from the weirdly jazzy “Drugs”, a song about how much he enjoys abusing substances (no shit) to the folk tinged “Mozzarella Swastikas”, which discusses his appreciation for hairy women and fellatio (which he seems to occasionally receive “under the rainbow”). The majority of the audience seems incredibly familiar with his repertoire, managing to sing the lyrics to almost every song he performs. I’m super psyched when he closes with “Jessica”, and within a few minutes of leaving the stage he returns for one last song, “Baby’s Gonna Die Tonight”, which I am convinced is a Misfits cover (I later found out it’s an original, which is still cool). 

In summary: The Dead Trees will probably make the White Album of the 21st century, or at the very least our generation’s Sgt. Pepper’s. Adam Green is definitely worth seeing live. He’s a super high energy performer (possibly due to excessive drug use) with a really great voice and weird ass stage presence that you can’t help but love. Anyone who hates Adam Green essentially hates fun. Kimya Dawson makes me barf. The Moldy Peaches are unremarkable. The end.

On April 15^th, Califfornia’s own sound of the sixties, The Morning Benders, kept the Sala Rosa in stiches for the better part of an amazing evening. 

It came on a positive night for Montrealers, as the Montreal Canadians just managed a come from behind victory against Alexander Ovechkin and the favoured-to-win Capitals, and post-season hockey victories mark the beginning of a memorable night for most Montrealers. News of this victory quickly circulated throughout the youthful, college-aged crowd, and as if by clockwork the concert began immediately following the hockey game's conclusion.  

The four fresh-faced band members took to the stage, brimming over with musical potential as well as inexperience, and they began to wow the crowd. The ayout of those attending was predominantly female at the front of the venue with a more mixed crowd sitting and in the back, but all attendees seemed to be in or close to a college demographic. Originally hailing from Berlkley California, the band has recently moved to New York where they wrote their most recent album, Big Echo, an album they played in its entirety during the show.

Upon this announcement I realized I’d probably have the pleasure of taking in most of their repertoire in one show. Big Echo, their second studio album was co-produced by lead vocalist Chris Chu and Chris Taylor of the band Grizzly Bear and contains elements similar to Coldplay, Hayden (see the song "Excuses"), and a variety of sixties pop rock. Now I haven’t heard much Grizzly Bear, who are a band categorized as psychedelic pop, but their sounds are fairly different than that of the Morning Benders. The real similarity or gift that Chris Taylor has brought to the Morning Benders sound is their vocal harmonies. Beautiful, well-timed vocal harmonies that prompt me to make comparisons between these bands and the Beatles. It definitely rings true with that sixties sound. 

When I found out I was covering the Morning Benders over a month ago I wasn’t especially enthusiastic, their concert was fourth on my shortlist behind the likes of Air, RJD2 and Sia. Looking back, and now unable to stop the Morning Benders song "Promises" from looping endlessly in my head, I feel quite fortunate to have seen this talented young band at such an early stage in what could potentially be a great musical career. It’s the kin of concert any true fan will envy my having been their in the years to come, and will even squawk if they discover I went somewhat reluctantly. Are they this kind of band? This remains to be seen. 

Definetly check out their new album, Big Echo, or just check out their Myspace for the songs "Excuses" and "Promises".

It's hard to imagine a more bewildering sensation for a relatively new musician than arriving in a country you've never even visited before and have people greet you like a big deal, especially when you're a young songwriter touring behind your second record of songs you recorded by yourself with sub-par equipment. That was precisely the case when Kristian Mattson, AKA The Tallest Man on Earth, came to Petit Campus to play for a sold-out crowd, in support of the stellar The Wild Hunt.

A few words on that subject first. Mattson's first record, Shallow Grave, was certainly no slouch, with some of its songs (particularly "I Won't Be Found," "The Gardner" and the hypnotic "Where Will My Bluebirds Fly") resonating long after your first listen. Mattson possesses a powerful wail not unlike a younger Dylan with a sense of pitch, and it's immediately striking. But Grave, as it turned out, was just a practice run for The Wild Hunt, on which Mattson proves himself to be superior to practically all of his contemporaries. With no band, and an almost unwavering one-man one-guitar setup (he switched to piano for the grand Springsteenian howl "Kids on the Run"), he has proven his credentials as a songwriter of rare wit and emotional investment.

Mattson was also blessed on this particular evening with a striking support act from his labelmates, Portland, OR trio Nurses, whose 25-minute set reminded me very much of Yeasayer's pre-blowup live arrangement. Their debut full-length, Apple's Acre, isn't out till August, but I'm already hoping their current sound has been successfully captured, since Yeasayer's recordings have been mostly disappointing. The comparison mostly arises from both acts' combinations of earthy and synthetic elements, particularly in blending live and sampled drum sounds. They also share an upbeat sensibility reminiscent of rock bands of a different era. It should be said, though, that Nurses' brief time onstage featured an impressive amount of instrument-swapping and changeups, indicating their willingness to toy around with what could have been a straightforward psych-pop set. Very intrigued to see what happens to these fellows.

Back to Mattson. Thanks to the brevity of the opening set and the ease with which one can set up a stage for a single performer, His set started early, which one can surmise probably suited Mattson, who appeared thoroughly blinkered, though grateful to be facing a packed audience. In person, Mattson is endearingly twitchy and awkward, never standing quite still, constantly altering his orientation to suit each song's melodic turns as it suits him. Opening with The Wild Hunt's beguiling title track, Mattson never hit a false note or a missed lyric despite the often intricate fingerpicking patterns required to pull off the eleven tunes that made up his main set, nearly all of which was culled from his latest release. A word of warning: being as they are principally songs of love sung by a Scandinavian fellow, Mattson's work tends to bring out the amorous factions of the audience; in other words, if you find PDA offputting, plan to stick close to the bar for the duration of his set.

And that was it - one man, one guitar, no surprises beyond the insane turnout (possibly inspired by Pitchfork's rave review of his record several days previous.) While some fireworks might have been nice, it was satisfying to be able to put a human face and presence behind some of the best songs to have come down the pike over the last few years. Sometimes it's nice to know what you're in for.