Patrick Sisson - Writer, Journalist, Cultural Documentarian, Music Lover

Portfolio


Music Review
XLR8R
June 2009
Link
7.0

Exercise_One_In-Cars_We_Rust

Retrofitting the results of jam sessions and distilling them into bracing minimal beats, Marco Freivogel and Ingo Gansera create lively, long-form riffs on techno. In Cars We Rust doesn’t meddle with jazz or big beat, instead trafficking in cold, metallic shades of sound and crisp percussion. “It’s Happening Again” grinds through build-ups and breakdowns, a buzzing melody creeps across the slightly dissociative “Drunken Tinman,” and “1994” contains a downtempo shuffle and bubbly synths that almost recall a sedated take on “Rez.” The live studio concept allows the duo to quickly pivot within songs or play around with rhythms, making a convincing case that these producers need to be seen live.

Music Review
XLR8R
May 2009
Link
9.0

alex-nut-rinse-mix

The term of the moment is “wonky,” but when it comes to Alexander Nut’s superb blend of urban beats, it’s all about soul, swing, and a distinctly contemporary kind of swagger. The mix starts off in the sunshine poolside, glowing under the warm rays exuded by tracks like Marco Polo’s “Relax.” But the reflection in the infinity pool gets more refracted and strange as the album progresses, leisurely shifting between raw, slightly disorienting electro beats from hip-hop’s razor edge and oversized U.K. basslines distilled from dub’s massive echoes. Nut never wavers, and seems to find new potential in the thick, unwieldy basslines he strings together. Terms don’t matter when the sum is greater than it’s already impressive parts.

Music Review
XLR8R
July 2009
Link
7.5

R-1808471-1244679825.jpeg

Stephen Wilkinson’s latest Bibio disc blends together many of the disparate strands that now comprise Warp Records, so it’s fitting that he’d drop it on the label’s 20th anniversary. It’s even more impressive that his production sounds fresh despite fitting squarely within a style—dope beats, funky samples, warm textures—that’s bulky and bloated with cut-rate copies. Perhaps it’s because his electro-acoustic tracks are eclectic without being scattershot, ably switching from the glitchy backbeats of “Fire Ant” to the smooth, summery groove of “Lovers’ Carvings.” And poignant tracks like “Abrasion” and “The Palm of Your Wave” show he’s not just flirting with folk. Wilkinson has taken a sonic palette that’s been muddled by many and created a quiet gem.

Music Review
Pitchfork
September 2009
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5.6

solo-electric-bass-1-cover

Getting called a virtuoso or mad scientist comes with some heavy baggage for a musician, so it says a lot about Tom Jenkinson, who records as Squarepusher, that he’s been repeatedly labeled as both. Getting tagged with these contradictory stereotypes– a classically trained workhorse mastering the canon versus an improvisational, intemperate tinkerer dismantling the rules– goes a long way toward describing the Warp mainstay’s musical output. He can sound technically brilliant and wickedly provocative at times, whether it’s with restless, distended breakbeat patterns, buoyant bass-heavy fusion excursions, or airy combinations of these and other styles. And on his new album, in a gesture that could be a challenge in both senses of the word, he merely plugs in his bass and lets his playing speak for itself.

And bass, unaltered and without digital delay or effects, it definitely all you’ll hear, whether it’s delicate melodic progressions, arpeggiated chords or spitfire runs up the fretboard. While Jenkinson’s skillful playing, the vital pulse of tracks like “Cooper’s World” from Hard Normal Daddy or “Circlewave 2” from Hello Everything, has earned serious plaudits and a shout-out from Flea, it may be slightly surprisingly to hear how classically oriented some of the songs on Solo Electric Bass 1 are. Granted, he claims to have taught himself classical guitar at age 10, but the elegant, breakneck playing on tracks like “S.E.B. 6” resembles that of a Spanish guitarist, and “S.E.B. 5” is a rubbery, staccato splatter of notes that belies the thickness of bass strings. Hyperactive “S.E.B. 8” showcases Jenkinson’s antsy side, bouncing between slap-happy antics and more slow and soulful passages. As the naming convention and out-of-order tracks suggest, the songs blend into each other. It creates an album weighed toward showcasing masterful execution that leaves a pretty muted general impression. Unless you’re predisposed toward technical prowess and solo bass recordings, it’s probably going to come off as more of a clinic than a collection of great songs.

In a 2006 XLR8R interview with Pitchfork contributor Mark Pytlik, Jenkinson spoke of avoiding the “music for musicians” tag. A limited-edition solo bass album recorded live at a Paris theater– just one musician, one amp, and a six-string– might appear pretty musician-friendly, leaning heavily toward virtuosic self-satisfaction. A large part of Jenkinson’s fanbase isn’t going to rush out to purchase uncut and unfiltered bass noodling, unless they were hoping for some intriguing digital manipulation or that the Loveless-esque cover was meant as a strong visual clue. But don’t start with the simplistic slap bass/”Seinfeld” theme jokes without considering what these tracks say about Jenkinson’s process and procedure. There’s a reason the audience gets enthusiastic during this 12-song set. Jenkinson is technically one hell of a bass player. Perhaps by playing it straight, he’s playing with people’s definitions of what does and doesn’t constitute musical skill in a digital world or merely showing off his own ridiculous abilities. For an artist known for restlessness and provocations, this may be a “mature” way to fuck with expectations.

Music Review
Pitchfork
August 2009
Link
5.0

esser

Modern life can be rubbish. Or so says Esser, an English electro-pop troubadour who sports a flattop that’s vintage mod (or exaggerated Jordan Knight). Despite a nonchalant delivery and mostly sunny melodies, he seems down. On opener “Leaving Town”, he says, “It feels like I’m drowning, so I threw my mobile in the sea.” On the cartoonish chorus of the title track, he suggests putting on a brave face when the morning comes, and if that little affirmation doesn’t see you through the day, attach a brick to your legs and jump into a lake. By track three, he doesn’t mince words: “I’ve got a problem, it’s called living.”

With a musical bent towards bouncy melodies and eclectic instrumentation, Ben Esser’s debut album of fractured pop is still more muddled than sharp. The dark undercurrents in some of his songs make sense. He’s often namechecking 1960s British producer Joe Meek, a skilled yet paranoid artist known for both his tragic demise, a shotgun murder/suicide in 1967, and his ramshackle audio experimentation on hit singles such as “Telstar”. Esser seems to aspire to create conceptual pop– not sure if his matching good and bad neck tattoos are commentary on the duality of man or just fashionable ink. But where Meek literally experimented with found sounds and production gear, Esser plays with established techniques and toys to no singular effect.

Pop singers certainly don’t need to reinvent music production to be gripping, but Esser’s debut doesn’t strain or stretch creative boundaries or hit that perfect balance between playful and experimental in the same way that contemporaries like Micachu and the Shapes do. “Leaving Town” and the title track coast by pleasantly enough, with horns or synth flourishes dressing up run of the mill beats. “Stop Dancing” is a Streets-like meditation on getting fucked up in the club, and single “Headlock” rolls by with bulbous beats and warped synths before ending in a pool of squeaks and sound effects. While he shows some skill at the kitchen-sink approach to pop experimentation, perfecting it is far from simple.

Esser’s lyrics, often delivered in a sub-Damon Albarn style, swing towards self-deprication, though they can sound ham-fisted and ring hollow. Take a track like “I Love You”, where love can be dangerous like a fire in your kitchen– a grease fire of passion? He even adds that “love is no excuse for bad art,” a line no singer should ever serve up with a straight face. “Satisfied” sways with staccato piano and stock phrases like, “You know it’s hard to please a woman/ She’ll put you on your knees and make you cry,” and originals like, “You know a man can never win/ Even if you buy her all the shoes.” Esser needs to tweak the formula a bit, though Cee-Lo has reportedly enlisted him to do production on his solo album, so he’ll get plenty of opportunities. Esser has also said artists don’t do their best work until three albums in. Time to buckle down, book some studio time, and put on that brave face.

Interview
Chicago Magazine
August 2009
Link

JoePug

He hasn’t swung a hammer since last summer, but Joe Pug, a carpenter turned folk rocker, still gets philosophical about construction. “There are traditional ways, and there are shortcuts,” says Pug. “But the good guys learn a new way with every job. You have to do the same thing with songs.”

Reviewers have compared the 25-year-old Chicagoan to Bob Dylan for his earthy, politically conscious lyrics and rich, slightly weathered delivery. This summer he’ll play Lollapalooza (August 8th at 3 p.m.) and open for Steve Earle, events that are sure to help boost his profile. But it’s equally impressive how Pug (born Joe Pugliese) arrived at this point. He’s toured constantly and self-released music with a slightly old-fashioned twist—e-mail nationofheat@gmail.com with your street address and a promotional CD will soon arrive in the mail. He’s done it all without the support of a label. “What they’re asking for is worth a lot more than they’re offering,” he says.

It not only sounds like one of his lyrics—“The more I buy, the more I’m bought / And the more I’m bought, the less I cost” from “Hymn #101”—but also speaks to Pug’s determination. Feeling disenchanted while studying to be a playwright at the University of North Carolina, he left during his senior year and moved to Chicago. While framing and building walls, Pug decided to pick up the guitar again, a talent he hadn’t pursued since high school. A friend persuaded him to record and sneaked him into Chicago’s Rax Trax Recording studio in between other bands’ sessions. His first release, 2008’s EP Nation of Heat, grew out of ideas he developed while writing a play about two guys building an addition to a house.

Pug spends his downtime in Logan Square, and his upcoming and as-yet-untitled album, due out this fall, might include character sketches drawn from time spent in his favorite neighborhood haunts, Ta-queria Moran and the Cozy Corner Diner. It’s fitting, the Dylanesque way he writes ballads about real people he observes. “There’s a core group of people who respond to sincerity,” he says. “That’s who I write for.”

Article
Chicago Magazine
July 2009
Link

In summer, festival season reaches a fever pitch. To help us navigate the scene, we drafted four insiders—working musicians who see more than their fair share of shows—and asked them to handicap the summer music calendar. Here, their recommendations

[ * RECOMMENDS ** PICK OF THE SEASON ]

MIKE REED
This composer, drummer, and music presenter will help organize dozens of concerts this year, including the Pitchfork Music Festival.
CATCH HIM: One of Reed’s jazz ensembles, People, Places & Things, plays at the Museum of Contemporary Art (220 E. Chicago Ave.; mcachicago.org) on Aug. 4th and the Hideout on Aug. 5th.
* The World Music Festival (Sept. 19-25, cityofchicago.org/worldmusic). “It’s all over the city and presents a different take on pop and traditional music. I’m also looking forward to seeing the Flaming Lips at Pitchfork” (July 17-19, pitchforkmusicfestival.com).
** The Hideout Block Party (no date at presstime; hideoutchicago.com). “It’s pretty down-home—the same vibe as the venue during the year.”

LISA KAPLAN
She’s the pianist for Eighth Blackbird, a contemporary classical sextet in residence at the University of Chicago and the University of Richmond.
CATCH HER: Eighth Blackbird plays the Great Lakes Chamber Music Festival June 16-17 and 19-21 at various cities in Michigan.
*Andrew Bird at Lollapalooza (Aug. 7-9, Grant Park, lollapalooza.com). “I think he’s very creative and talented.” Also: her friend Jonathan Biss, a classical pianist, at Ravinia (Aug. 6, ravinia.org). “He’s an amazing classical interpreter and is doing pieces by Haydn and Kurtag.”
** The classical music series at Grant Park (through mid-August, grantparkmusicfestival.com). “It is more diverse and interesting than Ravinia. They’re having the premiere of Plans by Michael Torke (June 19-20) and works by a lot of U.S. composers.”

NATHANIEL BRADDOCK
He’s the guitar player for the Chicago-based Afro-pop band Occidental Brothers Dance Band International.
CATCH HIM: Occidental Brothers Dance Band International plays the Taste of River North (Kingsbury Street, between Ontario and Erie streets) on July 18th.
* Two neighborhood festivals: the Clark Street Festival (July 26, Clark Street from Morse Avenue to Estes Avenue, rogerspark.com) in Rogers Park and the Folk & Roots Festival organized by the Old Town School of Folk Music (July 11-12, Welles Park, chicagofolkandroots.org). “It’s a crossroads of traditional American music and world music that brings in top-notch musicians and focuses on putting music making in everyone’s hand, which is the vibe of the school.”
** The African Festival of the Arts (Sept. 4-7, africanfestivalchicago.com) in Washington Park. “You can see highflying African guitar groups, hip-hop, even old-school soul.”

SEAN MOELLER
He’s the founder of Daytrotter.com, a website that posts free sets recorded by touring indie bands in a studio in Rock Island.
* The Avett Brothers (June 28, House of Blues, theavettbrothers.com). “They’re one of my favorites now. I’ve never actually seen them ‘live’ live, but we did a session with them at Big Orange Studios (in Austin, Texas) that was pretty spectacular. They’re fiery and so dynamic for just a couple guys without a dedicated drummer. Seeing Billy Joel and Elton John at Wrigley would be cool (July 21, Wrigley Field, livenation.com), but I’m not sure how a show at Wrigley would work. And Booker T. playing the Taste of Chicago (July 4, Petrillo Music Shell, tasteofchicago.us) should be great. I saw him sitting in with the Roots on Late Night for a few nights and that was pretty cool.”
** The Hideout Block Par

Music Review
Pitchfork
June 2009
Link
6.4

blood

Franz Ferdinand singer Alex Kapranos’ vocals are often wry snapshots of hedonistic nights spent with mysterious, mercurial women. It’s an example, perhaps, of a globetrotting pop star singing about what he knows (his food writing doesn’t translate into three-minute singles quite as well). But the band isn’t nearly as risky, uninhibited, and freewheeling when it comes to its own music. The group’s sophomore album sounded like a heavyweight repressing from the same post-punk revival mold used to make its debut, and the recent Tonight came off as a tease, flirting with synthesizers and a few new directions, not to mention a rotating cast of producers. Though, to its credit, the band endured numerous false starts in an attempt to get it right– the making-of saga even boasts a human bone-as-percussion studio story– Tonight hinted at opportunity without fully seizing it.

Blood, an album-length dub version of Tonight, arrives as an experimental spin on the band’s music at a time when they’re already toying with their formula. Though it was previously included as part of a deluxe box set and released in limited quantities for Record Store Day, Blood isn’t merely a collectible or curiosity. Described as “Franz through Dan’s filter”– a reference to producer Dan Carey, the former Mad Professor apprentice who was the last person to fill the producer’s chair during the making of Tonight— it’s filled with relaxed recalibrations of the source material. While groups like Easy Star have made a cottage industry out of recording new dub covers, Blood goes the traditional route by rearranging and remixing elements of the original music.

Carey may have spent time recently working with Lily Allen and Kylie, but he hasn’t lost his feel for reggae. “Feel the Envy”, which unspools the slippery bass line and bubbling synths of “Send Him Away” and submerges the song in reverberations, and “Feeling Kind of Anxious”, where Kapranos’ words cycle and careen off the walls of an echo chamber, are prime examples. “Backwards on My Face”, a slack remix of “Twilight Omens”, wallows in a low groove, springy but crisp snare beats, and vocoded croaks that used to be Kapranos’ lyrics. Many of the album’s best moments recast parts of the original songs in ways that underline their melodic strength, especially the bass lines of Bob Hardy. “Katherine Hit Me”, a reworking of “No You Girls”, glides by on the original track’s tight, funky bass line, a solid frame that stands up to the shift towards a half-time tempo and meandering effects. Carey’s work calls to mind Echo Dek, Adrian Sherwood’s deft reworking of the master tapes of Primal Scream’s Vanishing Point, including the slightly darker, paranoid bent. Despite the album’s anxiety-prone songs titles, Franz sound relaxed and just as cocksure on these remixes, rarely forced.

While the songs are well-constructed, Blood is intriguing to a certain point but lacking the jolt necessary to transcend the concept. Perhaps that’s putting unfair expectation on what is a well-executed one-off exercise, but some tracks feel a bit winded-down as opposed to re-imagined. For every channel-shifting echo effect on the album, there are moments, like the pulsating synths on “Die on the Floor” or stretches where Kapranos’ vocals are looped, that call to mind standard dance remixes, standard being the key word. It’s arguable how “dub” a few of these tracks are– much like Tonight, they don’t fully commit. Franz’s music is usually as crisp and tight as its constructivist cover art, and though reformatted, stretched out, and slowed down on Blood, it still maintains a strong pulse. Hopefully this playful detour leads to more easygoing experimentation when Franz Ferdinand start cracking skulls together for the next full length.

Music Review
Pitchfork
May 2009
Link
6.1

comingfromreality

“I’ve played every kind of gig there is to play now,” intones Sixto Rodriguez on the track “A Most Disgusting Song”. “I’ve played faggot bars, hooker bars, motorcycle funerals… in opera houses, concert halls, halfway houses.” Not sure where opening up for Animal Collective in Chicago this past January ranks on that list, but it’s a safe bet his booking agent has a bit more pull these days. The once-obscure Detroit singer-songwriter is enjoying a reissue-fueled second chapter in his career– third, if you count his cult status in Australia and South Africa– and is finally receiving critical reception a few decades after the fact. Not bad for someone once billed under the silly pseudonym Rod Riguez because a producer/label owner “didn’t want to take a chance” that his artist would be pigeonholed by the public.

A big part of his appeal is his urban poet-style social observations, frank lyrics laid bluntly over folk-rock strumming, funky riffs, and intriguing instrumentation. Coming From Reality, originally released in 1971 and the follow-up to Cold Fact, loses some of the grittiness and directness of his debut, never striking the same balance of eclectic arrangements, reverb-heavy vocals and flourishes achieved while working with the production team of Detroit vets Dennis Coffey and Mike Theodore. Washed out a bit by soft, sometimes airy strings and lacking a killer single like the drug dealer-themed “Sugar Man”, it doesn’t hit quite as hard. But it’s a decent addition to the singer’s relatively scant output.

Recorded in London with producer Steve Rowland, a former Hollywood actor who would later discover and sign the Cure, Coming From Reality suffered from the change in studio and scenery. Opener “Climb Up on My Music” is a mellow, organ-heavy Steppenwolf/Santana jam with a screaming guitar riff and “Halfway Up the Stairs” exudes a sweet, cheesy 70s soft rock vibe. Rodriguez still delivers some pointed observations on tracks like “Street Boy”, one of a trio of solid bonus cuts recorded in 1972-1973 with Coffey and Theodore, and “A Most Disgusting Song”, a droll, overly long country-tinged narration told from the vantage point of a dive bar. But they’re thinned out by songs like “It Started Out So Nice”, a string-laden tale filled with some obscure myth-like references, and “Heikki’s Suburbia Bus Tour”, a rip on suburban life with an awkward chorus and a tired dig on lawn care. On the plaintive “I Think of You”, his voice leans too much towards James Taylor softness, and lyrics like “Baby I ain’t joking/ And it’s not what I’m smoking/ But I really think you’re nice” from “Silver Words?” which sounds like a tired Seth Rogen come-on, are a bit weak. When Rodriguez’s pastiche of styles coalesces, the music occupies an interesting niche at the crossroads of late-60s/early-70s music. But the second trip to the archives is a case of diminishing returns.

Interview
Pitchfork
May 2009
Link

jrboys452

When the Canadian electronic duo Junior Boys began work on the music that would become Begone Dull Care, vocalist and co-producer Jeremy Greenspan analyzed his artistic process. While scrutinizing the methodology behind the intricately crafted and occasionally icy pop music he makes with Matt Didemus, he came upon an unlikely metaphor, the cartoons of Canadian artist Norman McLaren. Combining his interest in music and animation, McLaren’s films are a dazzling blend of color and sound, both painstakingly assembled and beautifully designed. Greenspan saw something in McLaren’s approach that resonated and named the album after one of his short films. Greenspan spoke about McLaren’s influence, harnessing electricity like Neil Young, and the advantages to padding your résumé with Brian Eno references.

Pitchfork: When you were a teenager, you smooth-talked your way into a studio job. How did that happen?
Jeremy Greenspan: When I was about 16, maybe 17, I lived in Birmingham, England. My sister was going to school there. She had some friends who worked at the snack store at a studio complex. I think I’d given them the impression I was into recording and music, so they told me there was an opening for a job. We put together a really phony resume. I figured they’re never going to call my contacts to find out all the Brian Eno records I said I produced [laughs]. And luckily, at the time, I looked a lot like I do now. I basically landed myself a job in this studio that made Muzak, literally music for elevators. I was the engineer for bands who would come off the street. You have 10 hours, you need to record and mix three songs and give them a demo at the end of the day. It was the cream of the crop. We had one band, I remember, that came in and wanted to do Eagles covers. It was a highly stressful job that I wasn’t prepared for, but luckily I had this assistant who was supposed to sort of work off me. I was supposed to be his mentor, because I had all this experience.

Pitchfork: So you played along.
JG: He was dumb enough that I could say, how would you do this? How would you set up these drums? I learned the basic elements of recording from this guy.

Pitchfork: This guy must have felt really good about himself because you agreed with him 99% of the time.
JG: Exactly. He was quite good, actually. He had no business being an underling to someone like me.

Pitchfork: I remember reading that you came out with an early single with Johnny Dark, an original member of Junior Boys, around 1995. It seemed like there was a big gap between that and Last Exit.
JG: Well, we didn’t release anything [as] Junior Boys in 1995. In the 90s, Matt and I released some bad drum’n’bass songs, bad house tracks, stuff like that. I was a teenager at that point, so the period between that and starting Junior Boys was general growing up stuff. I started Junior Boys while I was at university with John. That was just pissing around. We’d post stuff on MP3.com. It was kind of like MySpace back then. It was basically through my experience in England that we got everything cooking with Junior Boys. I lived with a guy who now runs the label Hyperdub, which puts out Burial. He goes by the name Kode9. We were roommates in England, and it was through him and a lot of his connections that we were able to release stuff and get heard. The first couple of songs the Junior Boys ever did in 2001 were posted on his Hyperdub website, which at that point wasn’t a label, just a website. That’s basically how journalists heard us at first. We didn’t really plan on being a band or playing music for a living.

Pitchfork: Those are some serious dubstep credentials.
JG: Yeah, right.
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