In this amazingly tight and concise episode of Audio Assault, which does not go over time and features all of the hosts staying completely on topic for the entire duration, Oswald is joined by Dr. Joe Gibson and Chicago scenester Todd Abbott. The guys discuss, in no particular order: Orny Adams, Teen Wolf, prom, Joe’s height, Todd’s vegetarian agenda, Taco Bell, chocolate milk shakes, hipsters in Chicago, the pros and cons of blogging, Facebook, more Orny Adams, Kanye West, Joe’s library, cassette tapes, Woodstock ’94, time zones, the concept of time itself, IMBD message boards, Dexter, and Picks & Dicks.

Too $hort proteges The Pack, hailing from Berkeley, CA and responsible for the noted semi-hit “Vans,” are prepping for the release of their new album, Wolfpack Party, and they’re kicking the festivities off with some fun shit. We’ve got said shit embedded below: the album’s titular first single and a video showing the aftermath of said soiree. I’m not a big hip-hop guy in general (Jere is our in-house street scholar), but I do know a little something about partying. And it looks like these dudes can party. Is that enough? Should that be enough? Of course. It’s all good in the hood, if by “hood” you mean fucked-up beer bash involving wolves. So check this stuff out, and get ready for Wolfpack Party -- it’s coming out sometime in the near future. Not sure when, though. The press release doesn’t say and I couldn’t find it online. I’m sure we’ll update you with more details when they’re available, because we’re hardcore. For now, feast your eyes on this shit:

WOLFPACK PARTY:

THE MORNING AFTER:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXm99P3HvIU

THE PACK:

• Official Site
• MySpace
• Last.fm

It’s impossible to even mention Joanna Newsom without commenting on her insanely distinctive voice, let alone review an album of hers. Her voice is remarkably polarizing and has been described as a cross between a dying grandmother and a 4-year-old child and delicate and thickly vibrating, a
crooning caterwaul. Yet her voice isn’t even the most intimidating thing about Have One On Me. That honor would have to go to the album’s running time. Spanning three discs and clocking in at about two hours, it certainly seems like her most ambitious work yet.

Admittedly, when I first listened to her after a friend raved about her to me, I was immediately put off by the horrible shrieking. I couldn’t understand a thing she was saying and, consequently, dismissed her as folksy pretentiousness. To say the least, I was not at all excited to hear that she planned on releasing more of her wretched music. Luckily I gave Have One On Me a shot, and it definitely changed my opinion of Newsom.

The sound itself is much more streamlined and welcoming than her previous work. The instrumentation is simpler and more immediately engrossing than before and her voice is much more palatable this time around. I found myself actually enjoying the intricacies of her vocals and was able to appreciate some of her fantastic songwriting, particularly on the track “Good Intentions Paving Company.”  The song is, in a way, about everything, and I absolutely love it for that. The lyric that struck me the most (“How I said to you, ‘honey, just open your heart’ / When I’ve got trouble even opening a honey jar / And that right there is where we are”) says a lot in just a few words. It describes a problematic relationship that I find remarkably relatable. In fact, the album itself encompasses pretty much the full spectrum of human emotion. It feels very complete, like every song is part of a cohesive whole. My biggest fault with it is the length. Not that anything feels particularly like filler, but it almost feels like a slog sometimes, especially if you’re not particularly a fan of her harp-fueled fairytale-folk sound.

Despite the more accessible feel to this album, no one could mistake it for anything but Newsom. She managed to change her sound enough to attract people who couldn’t stand her without isolating those that always loved her sound. Taking into account the fact that I very nearly despised her previous
work, I’d say Have One On Me is quite an accomplishment.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUQZdXwG8Zc

Joanna Newsom:

• MySpace
• Drag City
• Last.fm

It was with mild trepidation that I ventured out this past Saturday night to check out Jemina Pearl rocking Beat Kitchen. I knew Ms. Pearl would deliver an amazing show, and I knew that the $2 Blatz beers would flow like wine. But the evening promised to combine my two worst fears: 1) geeking out in front of someone whose music I genuinely adore, and 2) hipsters. So I made sure to arrive at Third World Timmy’s apartment with a few hours to spare, which we spent pounding Coors Light and watching television with official Assault mascot Miz Jodi. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, we were so blitzed that we had only two things in mind: a full-on Chicago-style rock attack, and chicken nachos. Needless to say, shit was about to get real.

After consuming some almost totally chip-less nachos (seriously) and braving the icy stare-downs of about twenty five dudes sporting ironic facial hair and Rivers Cuomo glasses, we piled up in front of the stage and waited to get elevated by the power of indie rock. Swiss Dots, the first band on the bill, did not disappoint. They’re a refreshingly mixed-gender (two dudes, two ladies) Chicago four-piece that play tough-but-sweet rock ‘n’ roll. I wish I could describe their music in a little more detail, but honestly I was already about six Blatzes into it and their MySpace is comically bare-bones. But fear not, rabid music-lovers – I’m gonna find them, ask them questions, and report back to you in 1-2 weeks. And hopefully link to a couple of their songs, because they’re pretty great and you’ll definitely get at least a half-chub if you mix them into your “Get High and Stare At Shit” playlist. (They have both Devo and Gang Of Four in their Top Friends, so that should give you an idea of the general vibe.)

Next up was White Mystery, by far the best opening band I’ve ever seen. It’s a brother/sister duo, their last name is White, and they play stripped-down garage rock. But before you get cynical, take a listen to the tunes on their MySpace (or, preferably, check out their next show – shit sounds incredible live). The sister is Miss Alex White (of Miss Alex White & the Red Orchestra fame); she sings and plays guitar. The brother is Francis White, and he drums. They both have crazy red hair and insane amounts of charisma; the band suffered some technical difficulties midway through their set and Francis entertained the crowd by smoking a forbidden cigarette (given to him by everybody’s favorite Internet Blogging Sensation, Oswald Hobbes).* White Mystery is the first band I’ve ever randomly seen at a show and immediately thought to myself, “That’s the greatest band I’ve ever heard, and I want to bear their children.” So, White Mystery, if you’re reading this – IMPREGNATE ME WITH YOUR DEMON GINGER SEED!!!!

While White Mystery was playing, Third World and myself decided to have a quick cigarette ourselves before the main attraction started. On our way to the door, I noticed Ms. Pearl and her ace sideman John Eatherly hanging out, so I suavely sidled up and gave them one of Third World’s business card. Eatherly looked at me like I was nuts, but that was probably because words wouldn’t seem to exit my mouth correctly and my eyes kept darting from side to side in the most suspicious fashion imaginable. Maybe having a business card handed to you by t-shirt entrepreneurs at a music venue is the real-life equivalent of being offered moneygrams by a Nigerian prince. If so, I’m okay with that; awkward encounters like this are just part of building my brand, which I’m told by my social media guru is very important.

Anyway, when Ms. Pearl and her band (with Eatherly absolutely killing on guitar) finally took the stage, all of my worries and cynicism evaporated and I started rocking the fuck out. In case you’ve been living under Taliban rule or you just don’t care about awesome music, Jemina Pearl was the incredibly awesome frontwoman for Nashville uber-punks Be Your Own Pet. They made two full-lengths and then split, which made me incredibly sad – until I picked up Ms. Pearl’s solo disc, Break It Up, at which point I was too busy dancing and punching walls to feel any emotion besides PURE RAWK FURY. I don’t know if I’m technically the desired audience for this kind of music, being a suburban internet troll with a lousy haircut and an extensive collection of Mastodon t-shirts, but Break It Up was easily my favorite record of ’09.** Plus, any record that actually begins with the line “It’s not all the cocaine” is A-OK in my book.

I expected Ms. Pearl’s set to be a totally transcendent, borderline-orgasmic experience, and I was not disappointed at all. (Well, I was a little disappointed that she didn’t punch anybody.) But she danced a lot, and sang beautifully (she doesn’t get nearly enough credit for her chops – she’s on the same level as Hayley Williams, and Hayley Williams is the greatest singer since Kelly Clarkson, and if you think that any of this is in any way “gay” or “not metal,” I’ll be the first one to agree), and she even told the audience how to properly pronounce her first name. (The “i” sounds like “ee”) That’s helpful advice, but it made all my friends look at me funny because I’ve been saying it wrong for about 3 years now. A little part of me was bummed that they didn’t rip into any Be Your Own Pet material, but it was a very, very litle part,*** as the Break It Up songs get more rotation in my car than anything from the BYOP catalog. Once in a while a CD comes along that sounds exactly the way you think music should sound, and that’s the case here.

After the show, Third World and I got another chance to talk to Ms. Pearl, and it was even more awkward than my first encounter, but that’s a whole other blog and I’ve already exceeded my word count. So, to sum up: Beat Kitchen is an awesome venue, hipsters and weird nachos aside, and the people who work there seem totally cool. Swiss Dots are delightful and mysterious. White Mystery are absolutely BEAST (as my twelve year-old brother would say) and I’m definitely going to start cyber-stalking them as soon as I finish this blog. And Jemina Pearl played an excellent show that made my heart joyful with childish exuberance and whimsical glee. The only bad part of the night, really, was my hangover the next day, but that’s truly a small price for an absolutely legendary show.

–

*The cigarette was extinguished pretty quickly, but it was funny while it lasted. And I got to hear Miz Jodi scold me for “contributing to a felony.” (I’m pretty sure that smoking indoors is not yet a felony in Chicago, although I’m sure they’ll try to swing that by 2020.)

** I know I previously stated that at least three other records were my favorites from last year, but Break It Up is the one that I keep going back to. It literally never gets old.

***Not the part you’re thinking of, so don’t try to burn me in the comments section. I’ll murder your family.

Jemina Pearl Inside Your Computer:

• Puke Til You Punk
• MySpace
• Photo Set of Jemina Pearl on Flickr