Wolf Parade

At Mount Zoomer
(Sub Pop)

Remember 2005, when everyone was all about Canada for a minute? Every interesting new band suddenly seemed to be from Montreal, and The New York Times couldn’t send enough reporters to cover every aspect of the, for once, actually great Great White North. Well, that passed, eh?

Which isn’t to say that Wolf Parade’s second album isn’t pretty good. It is pretty good. Is it $9.99 good? Not really, it’s more like $6.99 good, but iTunes hasn’t made its inevitable devolution into Sam Goody yet. If you happen to be a reasonably hip, upper-middle-class 22-year-old girl, this will probably be the soundtrack of your summer.



The shame is that a band that has spent most of the past years on interesting side projects (Sunset Rubdown, Handsome Furs, etc.) has made a somewhat safe, at times bland, pop album that, at its best, is reminiscent of Weezer, Spoon or an Elephant 6 band, but it lacks the finest spark of any of those. Unique moments pop up for, well, moments, but like a burp during a meal, don’t dominate or last. This is a group who could emerge as extra special a couple of records down the line, or it could remain in the bargain bin.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly

The Watson Twins

Fire Songs
(Vanguard)

Once Louisville’s own Tegan and Sara, the twins have decamped for Los Angeles, where people’s idea of what acoustic, folk and/or that quaint country music is a little different from ours. Indeed, the “Grey’s Anatomy” producers who like this variation on our regional music must be thrilled that, not only are The Watsons easy to look at, but also that their record came out so slick, easily digested and NPR- and SUV-friendly.



I know many of you dear readers went to school with them; they’re probably nice gals, and I was certainly hoping to enjoy their disc. Throughout music history, sibling harmonies have a long and solid track record. Their band, led by fellow native Louisvillian Russ Pollard (Everest, Sebadoh, Out.), is skilled and tasteful (if, perhaps, restrained to the level of a benzo). Indeed, like Scarlett Johansson’s recent debut, the beasts help the beauty get it done.

C. 2008 LEO Weekly

Alejandro Escovedo

"Don't want your approval/It's 1978", begins "Nun’s Song," one of too many street-walkin' raps about how badass Al and his boys were back in the day. That's pretty much how this concept album goes.

Escovedo and his songwriting collaborator here, Chuck Prophet (also an '80s rocker turned '90s Baby Boomer singer-songwriter turned 21st-century NPR regular whom no one else cares about), were "Sensitive Boys" who were "Real as an Animal."



They were so enamored with "poets" like Lou Reed and Jim Carroll while dreaming of being rock stars like Iggy and Bowie (even hiring Ziggy Stardust producer Tony Visconti here) that they lived out their lives (being now 50-ish) without stopping to realize that, talent-wise, lots of guys can lead one of the best bar bands in town (have you seen Eddie and the Cruisers lately?), but there can only be one Bruce Springsteen.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly

Silver Jews

Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea
(Drag City)

This is just terrible, just inexcusable. This is not good as indie rock, alt-country or even as an ironic Ween kinda tribute (and Ween did their suck-city/isn’t-Nashville-hilarious record years ago... and look at them now).

Band-leading lyricist David Berman (I won’t say who writes the music; I don’t want to be too insulting) fancies himself some sort of a poet, apparently, and his "character study" lyrics about people who are big losers are Carver-esque in a college sophomore way. "Sarcastic hair" and "candy jail" aren’t entertaining or relevant. Maybe at Bonnaroo...



Even worse, though, are the vocals: His are flatter than Joe Don Baker’s movie career, and the ladies’ backing vocals are sub-middle-school talent show. It’s not the early ’70s anymore, you’re not an outlaw, you’re not Bob Dylan, and you’re not ironically funny, so please stop making horrible records.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly

Terra watch list

There are 39 acts coming to Terrastock. We gave Peter Berkowitz the enviable task of handicapping the field. Here's his report.

THURSDAY

The Photographic

7 p.m.

The Louisville instrumental duo opens the festival, using only drums and guitars, with loops employed to broaden the minimalist sound options. Silent films are screened above the band to keep people (hot chicks, ideally) even more entertained -- and bless them for thinking of our every sensory need. I

Parlour

8 p.m.

Festival schedulers have clearly thought this through: Here's another group of locals, who probably have similar influences to the preceding act, but are older, wiser and, as an ever-evolving ensemble, can always be counted on to explore new textures based in Krautrock, minimalism, free jazz and modern classical sounds. I

Elephant Micah

9 p.m.

A late replacement for Marissa Nadler, this Hoosier music collective is fronted by lo-fi virtuoso Joe O'Connell. Local fans of the whole basement wave likely remember a scattering of gigs here in recent years. I

Dead Maids

10 p.m.

Formerly known as Monster Bastard Project, this English band owes a small debt to Slint. They would've been good slotted between the Photographic and Parlour, if one wanted to hear long, intense instrumentals for hours without a break. I

Hush Arbors

11 p.m.

Keith Woods, the man behind the band, plays '60s-style psychedelic and Southern-flavored folk that is very pretty and soulful. Either solo or with accompaniment, he is a modern troubadour who should not be missed. I



FRIDAY

United Bible Studies

Noon

From the improbably named Atlantis, Ireland, these Celtic folks met some Eastern Bloc ragas and jazz improv they liked and decided to meld the forms into a stew of something so far beyond "jam band" that the Black Crowes gave up and shaved again. O

Sharon Krauss

12:50 p.m.

"Dark folk music for the new millennium," sayeth her website. Sure, the millenium happened a while ago, but when you're slaying dragons with your music, who has time to update the website? Am I right, people? (EDITOR'S NOTE: Peter will be the only person at the festival with a sense of humor.) Kidding aside, this is a lady who can really sing, so be there. O

Ignatz

1:40 p.m.

This Belgian group has a song called "Look at Your Hand." Wanna bet what they were smoking when they came up with the lyrics? Imagine Nico in a Guy Maddin movie. Now imagine that it's not very enjoyable. Y'all can pass the pipe; I'm going to pass on this group. I

Antietam

2:30 p.m.

The mighty Antietam! Like you don't know! Louisville natives Tara Key and Tim Harris moved to NYC some 20 years ago, met a local, started a band and have been criminally under-appreciated ever since. O

Black Forest/Black Sea

3:20 p.m.

Now living in Pittsburgh after five years in Providence, this duo plucks at strings and percusses when necessary, with mixed results. If you get seasick, take medication before experiencing them -- they might make you woozy. I

Sleeping Pill

4:10 p.m.

Although this "special guest" has been officially declared not to be Yo La Tengo, Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley are part of Sleeping Pill. If it involves members of Yo La Tengo playing non-YLT songs, that would be entertaining, hmmm? O

Tanakh

6 p.m.

Here's a treat from Italy, one of the hundreds of countries one doesn't expect to hear subtle, lovely pop music of the British Isles sort. I still expect them to pack Speedos for our glorious American beaches, though. I

Plastic Crimewave Sound

6:55 p.m.

From our true sister city, Chicago, the second Real Rock Band of the fest combines the best aspects of the late '60's Detroit bands, early '70s downtown New York bands and mid-'80s Seattle bands. Expect a heavily male turnout for this set. O

The Linus Pauling Quartet

7:50 p.m.

From Texas, home of Butthole Surfers, 13th Floor Elevators, George W. Bush, etc., is a band with songs like "Alien Abduction" and "La Tapatia." Oddly, they only use three guitars (because "anything worth doing is worth overdoing!" -- their words, not mine) when they could be using four. I

Major Stars

8:45 p.m.

Here are some vets who know all about the rock and how to twist it. Wayne Rogers and Kate Biggar have led other bands (Crystalized Movements, Magic Hour) and a label/store (Twisted Village -- look 'em up online) but they live very much in the now, baby! If you're a rock guitar nerd, this is one to catch. O

Damon & Naomi

9:40 p.m.

After Galaxie 500 ended, rhythm section D&N joined Wayne and Kate in Magic Hour, who melted heads for not long enuff. These days, they continue to make beautiful music together, oft paired with the Japanese psychedelic group Ghost. Can we hope for some Major Magic to happen tonight? I

Helena Espvall

& Masaki Batoh

10:35 p.m.

Touring this month with Damon & Naomi, H&M are, respectively, the Swedish cellist in influential Philadelphia indie folk group Espers and the guitarist of the aforementioned Ghost. (It's a very incestuous scene, as all scenes are.) Sexier than a Benetton ad and more genuine than an Obama/Clinton ticket, this should be truly special. I



SATURDAY

Oneida

Noon

Weirdo rock from Brooklyn. It's like the Pitchfork website in 2002 finally coming to Louisville … in 2008! I

Wooden Shjips

12:55 p.m.

If there was one band that I would expect to be here this weekend, this is it. (F.Y.I.: the "j" is silent.) They'll hit a groove and run it into the ground, leaving you staring at your shoes. You'll suddenly realize, "Wait, this band rocks, but they've been rockin' the same notes for 12 minutes now. And it's all right." O

Tara Jane O'Neil

1:50 p.m.

Another Louisville ex-pat named Tara, this one flies solo with moody folk moods and ambient textures. You might remember her from Rodan, but she's almost middle-aged now. How old does that make you? I

Kinski

2:25 p.m.

These Seattle alt-rockers have toured with Mission of Burma, Silkworm and, uh, Tool. Movie nerds won't be surprised to hear that they've also performed as "Herzog." One of the more conventional bands of the weekend. O

MV + EE with the Golden Road

3:40 p.m.

Farmers in New England's fertile experimental music field, Matt Valentine, Erika Elder and friends suggest a cross between Royal Trux and Mazzy Star, minus the heroin and insanity. They might rock, they might lull, but either way, they will space out, man. I

Bardo Pond

5:30 p.m.

Have I mentioned space rock yet? It's hard to come up with two dozen new ways to call bands new variations on that, but these guys are a rock band and they get, really, uhh, ahh, far out, ya. They're from Philadelphia and Sun Ra lived there for many years -- that's something not coincidental, ra ra right? O

Grails

6:25 p.m.

It's the first Terrastock band to describe itself on its MySpace profile as simply a "jam band." Should you skip it? Yes. Just kidding. Kirk Hammett of Metallica is one of their top friends, and they're down with Om and Neurosis, so just hate them for not being proud of how awesomely metal they are. (Pajo, please don't jam with them.) O

Motorpsycho

7:30 p.m.

One of the most highly anticipated bands of the fest, they are 20-year veterans from Norway who took their name from a Russ Meyer movie. It's a rock band, in the sense that all that you can say about AC/DC or the Rolling Stones is that they are a rock band. O

Sapat

8:30 p.m.

An always intriguing bunch of locals; one never quite knows what one's going to get with the Sapat brand. Will it be a dozen people improvising on a variety of instruments? Will there be rock songs? How many beards will be in the band on this night? I

Mono

9:25 p.m.

This increasingly legendary Japanese group takes riffs from Heaven -- if there is one -- and makes them heavy in a delightfully light and orgasmic revolution. If the Boston Pops were Jimi Hendrix's underwear, they would sound like this. O

Kohoutek

10:35 p.m.

In Washington, D.C., not all music is Ian MacKaye-approved: "Improvised psych with noise tendencies and abstraction." Well said. Does that sound like a fun date to you? I

SUNDAY

Team Brick

Noon

From the ominous-sounding Dunshelm Castle in the U.K. comes this eerie, ambient wave of music that can explode into hardcoreish rock. Mike Patton, please call the white courtesy phone. O

Rob Sharples

12:55 p.m.

From London, a very lovely acoustic singer/songwriter a la Elliott Smith who will appeal more to normals, than to the fest obsessives who will prefer to sit in a corner blogging about how much they hate my descriptions of these 800 bands and how much they hate me for not being perfect. I

Thee American Revolution

1:45 p.m.

Robert Schneider of pop favorites Apples in Stereo leads this ensemble, which also includes "an anonymous psychedelic rock legend from the '60s." A lot of that goin' round this weekend. O

Insect Factory

2:40 p.m.

From Silver Spring, Md., it's "lo-fi homespun fuzz sculpting" music to put your organically-raised kids to bed to. So ambient that you'll wake up and realize that the band is asleep, too. (Wha?) I

Simply Saucer

3:35 p.m.

Better than Rush? OMG yes. Unknown legends of the '70s (sounds like a Sid & Marty Krofft show, eh?) making a most welcome appearance in Louisville. They're coming a long way (Hamilton, Ontario) and across many decades, so, maybe you can go to Kroger on Monday evening instead? O

Pelt

4:30 p.m.

Long-ass guitar raga dreamy drones, finger pickin' and psychedelia. Prepare thyself for a skulldrill love affair and light the candelabras for Papaw. I

Jack Rose and the Black Twig Pickers

6:30 p.m.

I'm pretty sure you just saw Jack Rose play during Pelt's set. Well, lucky us. I guess they call this the blues? Only instead of Ralph Macchio, Jack Rose met the devil (or John Fahey) down at the "crossroads" and what happened came out sounding like ----. I

The Entrance Band

7:10 p.m.

From L.A., Guy Blakeslee and his friends are … well, I hear that they're very good live. Local connection: Their bassist, Paz Lenchantin, used to play with David Pajo in Papa M and Zwan. I

Windy & Carl

8:05 p.m.

From Dearborn, Mich., a 30-something couple who are veterans of every single Terrastock and float away on subtle clouds of sweet, airy tunes that are just barely there but manage to hang in the air long after they end. I

Paik

9 p.m.

From Detroit, two dudes who throw down shoegaze grooves without those fey British vocals. Paik is "an old English word meaning a powerful blow to the body, or to pummel," as they share in their bio. O

Makoto Kawabata

10 p.m.

Kawataba plays guitar for Acid Mothers Temple, one of the most intense, exciting, spiritually fulfilling musical groups I've ever encountered. The whole group can't make it here from Japan, but Kawabata is a force unto himself. Odds are good that you will be bowing down to him as he peels back your ears and pours tea into them with his guitar. (How does he do that?) I

O = Outside on the lawn stage

I = Inside the Mellwood Center

c. 2008 Velocity Weekly

Supergrass

Diamond Hoo Ha
(Astralwerks)

OK, first there's the title. I don't want to say "hoo ha" in front of my mother, even though she has one. It's certainly not something that 30-something men who wear suits should be sporting on their business cards.

Next, there's the cover photo. I mean, just look at this: Supergrass look like Hanson, for goodness' sake, and I don't mean Hanson today, I mean, that's right, “Mmm Bop”-era Hanson. By all rights, this record should be called Diamond Airbrushing. These guys now look like creatures that that interchangeable Kate Hudson/Kate Moss/Liv Tyler monster would sleep with.



So why is it actually a good record?

I shouldn't be too surprised — Supergrass has always been a decent Britpop band. And poppy they remain, more Blur than T. Rex, but they still retain their dignity, even while making a damn fine pop album that wouldn’t sound out of place in the background in an episode of "I Got Crabs with Tila Tequila" or some such MTV hit.

While they're no Radiohead, they even manage to throw in a somewhat avante-garde horn in "The Return of..." and an entire circus groove in "Whiskey & Green Tea" that made my morning. I think one of the songs was about war being bad and even referenced Dylan, but that's why one shouldn’t listen too closely to pop lyrics. Everybody cut footloose.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly

Bonnie "Prince" Billy

Lie Down in the Light
(Drag City)

If Billy had been around when he sounds like he was around — the late ’60s and early ’70s — today he would be even more rich, famous and legendary than Bob Dylan or Neil Young. He is even more prolific but more consistent. While he might not hit the highs of either of those grandfathers, the warmth and depth of his songs and his voice ensure that he will last many lifetimes. If he only had the promotional budget of a 3 Doors Down or a One Republic, he could probably be even more popular than Mariah Carey naked in Times Square just by singing us a song.



Clever is the man who hides odes to naughty sex under gentle, folksy melodies, but the man who once sang about "Your finger in my behind" has very 2 Live Crew-esque ideas embedded in "So Everyone." Mostly, the man has many notions about family and friends, life and death, love and love, and I continue to be mystified by the non-bathing Bonnaroo-jammers who waste their time on Michael Franti or Jack Johnson when they could be enjoying some true beauty.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly

Aimee Mann

@#%&*! Smilers
(SuperEgo)

Being the most clever person in the room is rarely fun.

As a music critic, it’s usually a fringe benefit, sure, but when you work with people who actually follow the news, like at LEO, you’re never the cleverest person in that room — and they never have any fun! Our current president has 99 problems, and being clever isn’t even one of them. Pity poor Aimee Mann, then, who always has to be the cleverest person in the room.



In the ’80s, she was too clever to be the enjoyable Cyndi Lauper or the wretched Edie Brickell. In the ’90s, she was too clever to be fun like Liz Phair or morbid like Lisa Germano. She had a pair of lively records in the ’90s, helped in no small part by collaborator Jon Brion, but Mann has run out of steam in the Bush era. Even the carnival-esque keyboard flourishes that help raise her music above that of Sarah MacLachlan’s can’t do enough to elevate her whines about the housewives of Orange County and other old-people problems. She’s turned into Margaret Dumont let loose in a West Hollywood recording studio.

If you’re still interested in the by-now all-too-predictable Aimee, go back to her '90s records and relive her slightly more enjoyable peak.

c. 2008 LEO Weekly