SEE & HEAR: Freedom Fry - "Summer In the City"

Freedom Fry - "Summer In the City"


Ah yes, summer. It's supposed to be a period of freedom and endless opportunities to have fun -- that is when you're a kid. When you're an adult, summer seems almost like a shell of its former self: it's uncomfortably hot and you no longer get those three months of zero responsibilities. And so, instead of basking in the summer sun's warm glow, we get all caught up in our own business and the complexities of adult life; instead of enjoying nature's changes, we're all going, going, going with whatever it is that runs our lives.

Enter Paris/Los Angeles duo Freedom Fry and their new single "Summer In the City." It's a charming, pleasant cut of indie pop with a pinch of surf rock fluidity, beckoning us to make our way back to those simply days of our summer youth. It's upbeat but laced with an atmospheric layer of synth that's perfect for sending the listener off to daydream the frantic pace of reality away.

SEE & HEAR: DyE - "Fantasy"

Before we continue, this video is NSFW. Ok? Cool.

I saw this a few months back and knew it would be something I had to share with you all. Thanks to my recent fascination with and growing interest in film, I've begun to appreciate music videos more and more. It's not as though I didn't care for them before, but now I view them through a whole new lens. This anime video for Paris electronic artist DyE's single "Fantasy" starts off with a plot centered around a few teens breaking into a swimming pool to drink some beers and mess around. That sounds relatively trite, I suppose, but what makes this video so special is how it concludes. You never see it coming, and boy is it crazy.

REVIEW: La Femme - Le Podium: La Femme #1 EP

La Femme - Le Podium #1 - La Femme
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Swathed in that eerie tone of ‘60s garage psych, Le Podium #1: La Femme plays more towards the past than the future – and, here, that’s nothing but a good thing. La Femme takes the entrancing sounds of this past and infuses them with the experimental urges of post-punk to create something that is at once energizing and infectious. This four song collection is dark and mysterious, maintaining a certain noir-style sex appeal thanks to its the echoey reverb and chilling synth and organ riffs.

At heart, La Femme is a surf rock band, but what gives their sound a magnetism is the addition of French new wave’s pop inflection and sexual underpinnings as well as the lo-fi, hypnotic flair of psych. Songs like “Sur La Planche” and “Telegraphe” demonstrate the band’s directness and immediacy while the EP’s latter tracks “La Femme Ressort” and “Francoise” showcase the band’s more experimental, cryptic side. Of course, they’re singing in French, so for all I know they’re singing about the most pleasant and wondrous of things. Whatever the case may be, Le Podium #1: La Femme proves to be a nice introductory statement, leaving an eventual desire for more.

BUY: Le Podium #1: La Femme is out now on Third Side Records. Pick it up on Amazon MP3, iTunes, or direct from the label here. The EP is the first in Le Podium, a 10" / Digital EP series from Third Side Records.

LIVE REVIEW: The Villagers' Conor O'Brien

I can't remember the last time i was part of a crowd as entranced, as taken with a musician as the one assembled at the Maroquinerie Monday night to see Conor O'Brien's second performance of the day. In the course of ten songs, the Villagers frontman converted a room full of strangers to believers; you could feel it in the absolute silence that fell with the first chord of each song, in the applause that rang with the excitement of discovery.

O'Brien's voice is arresting, never staying in the same place for too long. He murmurs and yells, bleats and coos with an urgency and a directness that sears its way into you. And his lyrics, although consisting of such simple rhymes that you can sometimes anticipate his words before they leave his throat, never come across as forced or trivial. There are no holes.

He steps away from the microphone in "Home," breaking down that final barrier between performer and audience. The grating, almost-violent refrain of "Can you call me when we're almost halfway" tattooed into our minds could be a plea to a lover, a simple admission that he can't make the trip home on his own. In the context of the song as a whole, in which the contrast of the refrain with lines like "A girl with a look in her eyes, as if to say 'I despise such family ties'" forces the listener to reach his own conclusions. Like Matt Berringer, O'Brien's words are opaque; their meaning is in what we make of them.

And when the time came, when Conor uttered those words that we sometimes pray for, and sometimes dread, the crowd roared their dissent. One more song was not enough. With his words, with his voice, with his beautiful understated guitar playing, Conor had opened a door, and no one wanted it closed.

Check out a fantastic version of Conor singing his single 'Becoming a Jackal' on Jools Holland after the jump.

LIVE REVIEW: Hyperactive Kid

The timing couldn't have been better. A cloudless Sunday afternoon, nowhere to be and no obligations to keep. A quick train ride out of the city proper to the sprawling Bois de Vincennes, home to ponds overflowing with lilies, sun-dappled paths, and a summer-long jazz festival. I had come to see Hyperactive Kid. I knew absolutely nothing about them, but was hooked by their name; more fitting for strung-out kids making music on Gameboys in a dorm room than three well-dressed young Germans, playing their heartfelt, unique brand of jazz to hundreds of retirees in a park outside of Paris.

The set-up is deceptively simple; drummer Christian Lillinger takes center stage, to his left stand saxophonist Philipp Gropper and seven-string guitarist Ronny Graupe. The first piece has no identifiable head section; instead it starts with an unassuming drum solo, building into a skittering, wavering crescendo of polyrhythmic frenzy. And when Gropper enters the mix, he doesn't match the drummer's speed nor his flailing energy; instead striking a counterpoint, moving through the harsh clatter like a dumb animal, long, gurgling notes that rarely stick to Lillinger's insane rhythms. He shifts from time to time into Ornette Coleman territory, almost melodic patterns that never quite resolve, never quite give you something to hold on to. Guitarist Graupe sometimes mirrors Gropper’s wailing, cacophonous melodies, the two parts intertwining, sometimes indistinguishable.

Yet it is Lillinger who steals the show. At first glance he is Greg Saunier, Deerhoof’s (jazz-trained) virtuoso, always on the edge of losing all control, yet doing so with pinpoint accuracy Then he is Inspector Gadget, pulling Purim groggers, bells, shakers out of thin air and incorporating them into his never ending study in the absurd. When he grabs a megaphone from behind his kit, running across the stage and creating rhythms with his breathing patterns, jaws start dropping. Arcade Fire theatrics for the sexagenarian crowd.

I left euphoric. I had come with no expectations, no point of reference. What I experienced was better than a great performance; it changed my idea of what jazz could be.

Hyperactive Kid's website: hyperactivekid.de
Hyperactive Kid's MySpace: www.myspace.com/hyperactivekid3