Pages tagged “midlake”

Texas quintet Midlake’s full-length debut, 2004’s Bamnan and Slivercork, established it as the sort of band that must, by ancient law and venerated tradition, be referred to as “quirky,” “off-kilter” or at the very least “out of left field.” The music—which earned Midlake comparisons aplenty to similarly afflicted bands like The Flaming Lips, Grandaddy and Mercury Rev—was essentially ’60s psych-pop revivalism dressed up with enough synthesizers, sense of humor and modern lo-? sensibility to keep it from feeling overly retro. But the band’s fans may be surprised to find that on its second release, The Trials of Van Occupanther, it has pulled up stakes, abandoned its late-’60s fairground, and moved a scant few years forward to the perhaps not quite as fertile, but certainly far less comprehensively trod-upon terrain of the early ’70s.

The album explodes with “Roscoe,” a forceful, assured song, unmistakably the product of countless hours listening to Neil Young, but polished to a fine Fleetwood Mac sheen the Grizzled One would never approach. Next comes the treacly soft-folk production of “Bandits,” a Nick Drake rip with a twist: singer Tim Smith makes no attempt to evoke the iconic and oft-copied wispy vocals of “Pink Moon.” Any lingering doubt as to whether Midlake is serious about this whole ’70s trip is erased with “Head Home,” which—after a lovely synthesizer intro—reveals itself as the progeny of Blue Öyster Cult. Channeling Nick Drake and Neil Young is an accepted and understandable practice, but pulling out BÖC (and Fleetwood Mac for that matter) can only mean that you have an unaccountable and perhaps self-?agellating desire to revisit even the most dead facets of the already unfashionable ’70s. Except “Head Home” is one of the best songs on the record, with a subtly catchy chorus and exhilarating layers of rich, vivid harmony; it suggests that being chained to a less anxiety-inducingly-great influence allows Midlake to sneak more of what makes it special into the song.

As the album continues, the more obvious references start to melt into a pleasant mélange—CSN harmonies coexist peacefully with orchestral piano-pop flourishes and Midlake’s synthesized elaborations, all measured out and stirred together with perfectionist precision. Van Occupanther feels like a contrarian response to so many bands copping from ’60s psych-pop and ’80s New Wave while leaving out everything in between. And it also feels like the group is rescuing this music from the patchouli-stained clutches of the jamband circuit, a laudable public service.

But the album’s best moment is also its most original, not tied to the ’70s or any other particular decade: “Young Bride” is an essentially unplaceable blend of guitar fingerpicking, Chinese-inflected violin and a tight, dancey drum beat. Reminiscent of The Beta Band’s best material, the song is brilliant and fresh without being quirky. It’s evidence that if Midlake lets all its influences percolate a little longer, and stirs them together a little more vigorously, it will be a mighty force indeed.

Most college towns are hotbeds for thriving music scenes, and Denton, Texas, home to the University of North Texas and Texas Woman’s University, is no exception. The city of 146,000—42,000 of which are college students—is overflowing with talent and a Mecca for skillful musicians forming successful groups, as evidenced by breakout bands such as Bowling for Soup, Centro-matic, The Drams, and the reason we’re here at Hailey’s in Denton tonight, Midlake.

For close to 10 years, the quintet (Tim Smith, vocals/guitar/keys; McKenzie Smith, drums; Paul Alexander, bass; Eric Nichelson, keys; Eric Pulido, guitar) has been kicking around Denton in various musical forms and gaining a steady following. Those fans, and everyone else who can fit into the 350-capacity club, are snaking around the outside of the venue when we arrive.

Upon entering, we’re greeted by a rep from Good Records who informs us that Midlake’s new album, The Trials of Van Occupanther, is available for purchase (three days before official drop) at a table in the back if we’re interested. We are. Makes sense that the album would be made first available at Hailey’s, as the venue is located just off Denton’s downtown square and a few streets away from the studio where the band recorded the CD they’re celebrating tonight.

Taking the riser in front of a pressed-against-the-stage audience, frontman Smith settled in behind a keyboard and welcomed the crowd before launching into “Balloon Maker” with his bandmates, while an accompanying video ran on a screen set up at the side of the stage.

Where the fivesome’s debut release, Bamnan and Slivercork, was heavy on the Radiohead-esque electronics, Van Occupanther explores more of an acoustic-guitar based 1970s-rock edge, and a big dose of that new album is performed tonight. Somewhat astonishingly, the multi-layered sound quality from the recorded versions of their songs translates well in a live setting, with Smith switching from behind the keys to acoustic and electric guitar, all while the group’s abundant harmonies offer spot-on support.

Based on the group’s sometimes quiet and introspective songs, we didn’t know what to expect in the way of banter—and if there would, in fact, be any. But Smith warmed to the audiences’ enthusiastic responses by commenting playfully on hecklers; informing everyone that they were filming “some stuff”; and setting up the evening by telling the crowd that, “this is, like, the longest set we’ve ever played.”

What turned out to be a 15-song, hour-and-20-minute show, covered both old (“King Fish Pies,” “Some of Them Were Superstitious”) and new (“You Never Arrived,” “In This Camp”) material, with “Roscoe” and “Bandits” from Van Occupanther proving to be a back-to-back highlight. The non-stop set ended quietly as Smith and lead guitarist Pulido strummed acoustics on the tender “Chasing After Deer.”

A perfect set to be sure, the quote of the evening came when Smith, reflecting on the European tour they’d just completed with the Flaming Lips, told the audience, “Denton is probably seen greater [in other countries] than it is here.” Midlake and its Trials of Van Occupanther could certainly change that.

Most college towns are hotbeds for thriving music scenes, and Denton, Texas, home to the University of North Texas and Texas Woman’s University, is no exception. The city of 146,000—42,000 of which are college students—is overflowing with talent and a Mecca for skillful musicians forming successful groups, as evidenced by breakout bands such as Bowling for Soup, Centro-matic, The Drams, and the reason we’re here at Hailey’s in Denton tonight, Midlake.

For close to 10 years, the quintet (Tim Smith, vocals/guitar/keys; McKenzie Smith, drums; Paul Alexander, bass; Eric Nichelson, keys; Eric Pulido, guitar) has been kicking around Denton in various musical forms and gaining a steady following. Those fans, and everyone else who can fit into the 350-capacity club, are snaking around the outside of the venue when we arrive.

Upon entering, we’re greeted by a rep from Good Records who informs us that Midlake’s new album, The Trials of Van Occupanther, is available for purchase (three days before official drop) at a table in the back if we’re interested. We are. Makes sense that the album would be made first available at Hailey’s, as the venue is located just off Denton’s downtown square and a few streets away from the studio where the band recorded the CD they’re celebrating tonight.

Taking the riser in front of a pressed-against-the-stage audience, frontman Smith settled in behind a keyboard and welcomed the crowd before launching into “Balloon Maker” with his bandmates, while an accompanying video ran on a screen set up at the side of the stage.

Where the fivesome’s debut release, Bamnan and Slivercork, was heavy on the Radiohead-esque electronics, Van Occupanther explores more of an acoustic-guitar based 1970s-rock edge, and a big dose of that new album is performed tonight. Somewhat astonishingly, the multi-layered sound quality from the recorded versions of their songs translates well in a live setting, with Smith switching from behind the keys to acoustic and electric guitar, all while the group’s abundant harmonies offer spot-on support.

Based on the group’s sometimes quiet and introspective songs, we didn’t know what to expect in the way of banter—and if there would, in fact, be any. But Smith warmed to the audiences’ enthusiastic responses by commenting playfully on hecklers; informing everyone that they were filming “some stuff”; and setting up the evening by telling the crowd that, “this is, like, the longest set we’ve ever played.”

What turned out to be a 15-song, hour-and-20-minute show, covered both old (“King Fish Pies,” “Some of Them Were Superstitious”) and new (“You Never Arrived,” “In This Camp”) material, with “Roscoe” and “Bandits” from Van Occupanther proving to be a back-to-back highlight. The non-stop set ended quietly as Smith and lead guitarist Pulido strummed acoustics on the tender “Chasing After Deer.”

A perfect set to be sure, the quote of the evening came when Smith, reflecting on the European tour they’d just completed with the Flaming Lips, told the audience, “Denton is probably seen greater [in other countries] than it is here.” Midlake and its Trials of Van Occupanther could certainly change that.

Don’t expect the delightfully seasick electronica of Midlake’s debut to promptly throttle you with its brilliance. It’s one of those humble accomplishments that shuffles its feet about, all the while seducing you one off-balance syllable at a time. The cosmos afforded us a prophetic vision of our future and, while we can’t remember much of what we saw, this much is true: (1) We were happy and (2) “Balloon Maker” was playing in the background.

“Some people should be eating, if you don’t mind!” yells actor Jason Lee across the bar at Hailey’s in Denton, Texas. “Somebody eat some food! Ready … start eating!!” You can almost see the directive gather momentum in the minds of a group of patrons sitting across from Lee as they look up from their dimly lit tables and booths. “Aha,” says the imaginary balloon caption materializing over their collective heads. “The man would like us to eat now.”

Lee is shooting a video for Denton natives Midlake, a band he was introduced to by Cocteau Twin Simon Raymonde, co-owner of Midlake’s label, Bella Union. Raymonde is a friend of Lee’s and regularly sends new music to the Chasing Amy/Almost Famous star. But something about Midlake’s full-length debut, Bamnan and Slivercork (Ok, back up and say it again. There.) caused Lee to get enthused to the point of taking a personal interest in the band. “It’s an album that does what Mozart or Schubert or Chopin does for me,” says the longtime classical music buff. “It’s incredibly unique, full of truth and real spirit. It’s genuine music, it’s not a part of a scene—it’s made for inspiring other people.” Having already directed a video last year for Beck, Lee caught up with Midlake at its SXSW showcase this spring in Austin, and within minutes was offering his services.

“We were at La Zona Rosa with Simon,” reports guitarist Eric Pulido, “and Jason comes over and he’s the most enthusiastic fan we’ve ever had, he’s just over the top.” There they forged the alliance that brings us to Hailey’s and the video shoot for the band’s infectious single, “Balloon Maker.” It’s a 16mm celluloid effort that’s shaping up like a low-budget cross between Dr. Who and Brazil, as envisioned by Wayne Coyne. As the patrons slowly commence their obligatory noshing, the unflappable Lee laughs, shakes his head and calls, “action!”

On the first spin of Bamnan, Midlake’s record collection becomes readily apparent: Ok Computer; The Soft Bulletin; Grandaddy; the helpless melodrama of Rufus Wainwright; the innocent, artsy charm of Björk. But Midlake brings a peculiar blend of naïvety and musical sophistication that hoists Bamnan above its influences. Beginning as an informal outlet for a group of music students in the world-renowned University of North Texas jazz studies program, Midlake evolved from a self-conscious acid-jazz jamband—stretching their impressive chops across 20-minute noodlefests—to a tightly disciplined art-pop outfit, creating lush, meticulously layered masterpieces in their living room. Two years ago Raymonde heard some of Midlake’s early recordings and was so impressed he traveled to the U.S. to catch them—again at SXSW—and eventually signed them to Bella Union.

Now, with two recordings and a European tour under Midlake’s belt, lead singer/principal songwriter Tim Smith takes stock of how far the band has come from those early days when Midlake struggled to find its identity: “We would jam, maybe take some gigs doing free-form jazz where you vamp for a long time. I think we always knew rock was where we wanted to be, but maybe it wouldn’t sit well with our peers.” Eventually the direct emotive force of rock won out, clearing the way for Midlake to make sounds that would tickle the ears of an actor, a music-biz veteran and a growing throng of critics on both sides of the Atlantic. “There were too many chords, [too much] jazzy stuff,” says Smith, “and I think we finally said, screw it man, buy yourself a distortion pedal and let’s do this.”

The Texans in Midlake have recorded one of the most British-sounding albums in recent memory: a perfect record of late-summer Sunday-afternoon psych-pop combining the static blippiness of early Depeche Mode, the faux-childlike obliquity of Syd Barrett, and the feeling and tone of Nick Drake. Together, these elements form one of the stronger cases for psychedelia’s resurgence since the Elephant 6 bands began to dry up. Unlike other groups mining this particular vein, Midlake eschews the ostentatious silliness and straightforward lyric-writing of the Decemberists, as well as the Cinemascope lunacy of the Flaming Lips, opting instead for intimate scale and bedroom melancholy. It’s a tradition worth upholding—and rarely is it upheld so pleasantly.