Fall Concert Preview

The Perceptionists

The Perceptionists—long on a name as well as on talent—will be visiting Local 506 Nov. 9. A triumvirate of premiere backpack rappers, Mr. Lif, Akrobatik and DJ Fakts One deliver sureshot rhymes alongside killer beats that rival anything by anyone mainstream. And it doesn’t hurt that their debut Black Dialogue has garnered critical acclaim along the way.

I saw the triad perform at Rothko, a smoky Manhattan hole-in-the-wall. And while opener Rob Sonic got hands swaying in the air, only the Perceptionists got them flying. It was perhaps the best hip-hop concert I’ve seen to date and provides genuine proof that thought rap can cross over into the mainstream.

Robert Winterode

Jaguares

You can expect to learn something new at Jaguares’ Cradle concert on Oct. 2. Packed with the usual arena rock staples—the quickly strummed guitar, the sunglasses and the light show—Mexico’s version of U2 and one of Spanish rock’s biggest bands also understands how to deliver a message perhaps a la Bono.

In a largely Spanish-language set, frontman Saul Hernandez voices concern for events like the deaths of women in Ciudad de Juarez and the guerillas in the Chiapas alongside a long set full of material from six albums as well as older songs from the band’s predecessor Califanes. Be prepared for a glorious rendition of “Miércoles a Ceniza.”

Robert Winterode

Definitely not a political musician like Ani DiFranco, Haines will have you dancing along as she softly coos about doom and gloom.

Robert Winterode

LCD Soundsystem

James Murphy knows more music than you do. He was doing sound for electro-punk bands while you were still spitting out the formula onto your spit-stained bib. Well, he’s not quite that old. The point is, the producer-turned-performer, in his debut band LCD Soundsystem, has gotten very good at doing what he does: making dance tracks with driving beats and funky squeals, shrieks and distortions to get crowds grinding Red Stripe-style. The smatterings of musical allusions and self-inflicted barbs are a facultative part of his songs, reserved for the superficial critical spheres that demand at once influence and innovation. In a sense, the lyrics and music form a symbiotic relationship—one justifies the other while at once depending on it.

It will be interesting to see how LCD Soundsystem performs live: at worst, a lackluster rendition that fails to kick the inhibitions of its Rockin’-the-Suburbs audience; at best, a glorious fusion between rave and concert that is about as close as Duke will ever get to experiencing the New York nightlife. Opening act and fellow DFA companions The Juan MacLean are no slouch either.

Peter Blais

Okkervil River

Austinites Okkervil River will be the next big thing. Know this when you see them at Local 506 Nov. 15.

Since the April release of their newest album Black Sheep Boy, they’ve been heaping up the usual inevitable swarm of critical praise any good band is owed after a six-year-long lifespan. The album’s second single “For Real” is currently debuting on MTV.

And despite the band’s good luck thus far, not all of the praise has been happily received.

Frontman Will Sheff balks at certain descriptions of the band’s sound. For example, The Chicago Tribune recently called the new album “neo-Baroque alt-country.” He also protests claims that the band’s goal is to be willfully obscure.

“Why would I be throwing myself into music that I don’t want people to get?” asked Sheff. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Sheff also spoke on his anxiety of creating an album.

“I just wanted to get the record I had in my head out,” he said. In fact, his biggest fear was that he’d perish in a Jeff Buckley-like mishap, that he wouldn’t live long enough to finish his latest masterpiece. But he soldiered through.

He also didn’t scare away from the band’s new public level citing bands like the Talking Heads and Nirvana who retained their credibility despite an increase in exposure.

“I don’t believe that growing as a band under increased exposure means you have to change anything that you don’t want to,” he said though he confesses a growing dislike for Liz Phair.

Of the whole Avrilabee genre, he said, “I don’t care either way about Avril Lavigne. I just picture someone eating a bag of Skittles and being surprised that they aren’t vitamins. That isn't meant to be art right there.”

He sees a problem endemic to many musicians like Phair and members of Interpol.

“The problem has always been people pandering to what they think mainstream tastes are,” Sheff said. “I’m very aware that I have no idea what mainstream sounds like so I could never really go there.”

Whether that’s a weakness for a band who likes to incorporate the random mandolin or Wurlitzer on every other track remains to be seen. But Sheff does confess mainstream dreams.

“I’d love to play half-time at the Super Bowl,” Sheff said.

Robert Winterode

Kings of Leon

If Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Strokes had a hyperactive baby it would be Kings of Leon. Hailing from Tennessee, KOL is touring the States to generate buzz for its latest album Aha Shake Heatbreak. Playing favorite tracks from Heartbreak and their U.K. success Youth and Young Manhood, Kings of Leon bring a high-energy show that inspires booty-shaking and sweat-producing from the audience.

The family act (made of three brothers and a cousin) trained while traveling with their Pentecostal preacher dad, and it shows through the scratchy blues voice of Caleb Followill. Grizzly Addams look-a-like Nathan Followill brings drums so infused with ’60s rock energy he makes the guy from Jet look lethargic (and Meg White comatose).

The rest of the Followills, Jared and Matthew, provide solid bass and guitar support for a full sound. The band’s show is fast paced with smooth transitions into slower songs for much needed breaks. The southern indie rock sound provides for an enjoyable, if not tiring, performance. Caleb directly connects with the audience, showing gratitude and singing his smoke-scarred lungs out, while his kin pound away at their instruments. The band gives so much attention to the audience, it almost seems like they don’t interact much with each other during the show, but after the third toe-tapping, heart pounding song one can tell that their genetic bond helps them communicate on a higher level.

While their song set does not derivate much from the CDs, even in song order, they play their stuff damn well and make sure the crowd gets what it paid for.

Kings of Leon is performing at Cat’s Cradle Oct. 9.

Varun Lella

Clap Your Hands

Try to say that name three times fast. With a similarly awkward first song that plays like a Barnum & Bailey soundbite, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are about as good at first impressions as Michael Jackson in court. Nevertheless, there is a good chance their show will be second to none this year. On October 17th, they take their accordion- and harp-wielding troupe to the Local 506, and there shall be much rejoicing. “We’ve sold more advance tickets for this show than for any we’ve ever had before,” says Booth. “Our maximum capacity is 250, so I expect us to sell that one out soon.”

Critics have thrown around all sorts of ideas in a vain attempt to pinpoint their sound, in part because they’ve borrowed so many nuances from so many bands yet integrated them such that they are peerless on the musical landscape. The more accurate associations couple lead singer Alec Ounsworth’s nasal screeching to the voice of David Byrne (with Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel thrown in for good measure) and the band’s bristly backbone riffs to the likes of Modest Mouse and the Arcade Fire. Whatever their influences, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah know good music, and they pound it out from beginning to end. Says Booth: “To me it sounded like a new wave version of Pavement, I don’t hear this Talking Heads thing I’ve been referred to. It’s more of an acquired taste I feel. It takes time to grow on you.”

Peter Blais

Against Me!

Gainesville, Fla.-based country folk-punk band Against Me! have toured internationally three times and are signed to Fat Wreck Chords Records with labelmates NOFX and Less Than Jake. They’re stopping by the Cat’s Cradle Nov. 22 with their special brand of viscerally loud guitar strums and hooky melodies.

“It’s definitely louder and fuller than it has been in the past,” said Warren Oakes, the band’s drummer for the last four years. That new sound is the band’s latest LP Searching for a Former Clarity out Tuesday.

The band also proves political with song names like “Cliché Guevara” and “Unprotected Sex with Multiple Partners.”

A self-proclaimed anarchist, Oakes said, “A lot of us are aware and conscientious people. We’re not into sloganeering though.” Oakes clarified that despite shoutouts to everything from Condoleeza Rice to the War, Against Me! is not about instructing people on what to do, but instead they’d just like to spark conversation. It’s part of the punk ethic, said Oakes.

They’ll be spreading that message across the fifty states including their pit stop in North Carolina as well as states like North Dakota and Nevada. “We’ll be like gypsies always on the move,” said Oakes.

Over time, the band has progressed from a bare-bones acoustic punk outfit to a multi-layered solid-but-stereotypical pop-punk band.

They promise a “full-on live rock experience.”

Robert Winterode

Electric 6

“Our band overcompensates,” admits Dick Valentine, frontman of the Electric Six. “We’re really bad dancers. We’re really bad in bed, but for 45 minutes a night, we might make you forget all that.”

These Detroit scuzz rockers will indeed manifest as electric October 3 at the Cat’s Cradle.

Their campy 2003 debut Fire was one of the year’s most critically-acclaimed albums and their first unabashedly classic single “Danger! High Voltage” enthralled British—though admittedly not American—radio. Plus it featured fey vocals from hometown homeboy Jack White (of the Stripes).

Since then, the Six has released a sophomore followup Señor Smoke in the U.K. and Australia (but not the U.S. because of label problems) and are currently in the midst of an international tour.

The nine-year-old band formerly known as the Wildbunch is mostly Valentine. Amid various lineup changes, especially recently, he’s the one thing that’s remained constant. He’s the only band member who writes the songs, appears in the videos and sings.

His voice is an extended guttural bark that twists every song into sounding like the worst of the ‘80s—but in a good way. On camera at least, he goes back a few decades, sporting that mustachioed ‘70s porn star look.

He’s also built a bit of a complex. “I notice when we go to festivals, other bands don’t come up to us,” he said several times. “Nobody likes us.”

Whether kidding or not, Valentine sounds more vulnerable than he appears in his videos.

In fact, the Electric Six is a videos band—meaning they have some of the best—though disturbing short films set to song in recent memory.

Over the span of four videos, the Six’s music has been personified by buff Lincoln look-alikes, Valentine's crotch, clapping poodles, a Bush and Blair lovefest, an ambiguous Nazi, a moose and glowing codpieces.

And this is all despite the fact that the last couple of years haven’t been the kindest. They’ve been dropped by Warner Music (“I wouldn't call them major label problems; I’d call them major labels.”)

They’ve watched the local scene rise and ebb (“It’s pretty shattered. None of the bands we cut our chops with are here anymore.”) And now a famous friend won't return their calls (“It’s like ‘Hey Jack, you remember me? You remember you sang on one of our songs?’”).

Robert Winterode