Posts by Simon Klein

The New Tape From Brooklyn's Furnsss is a Must Listen

The New Tape From Brooklyn's Furnsss is a Must Listen

Local Brooklyn by way of Connecticut indie-rockers Furnsss released a self-titled tape today, their first major release since Silent Gold in 2015. Lead by songwriter, guitar player, and singer Brendan Dyer, the band has crafted six well-composed indie rock highlights. Songs like “Roll With It” and “Drag” are loud and sweeping, with crunchy guitar riffs that sound like something out of early Pavement. Other tracks feature rhythms that nod to contemporaries such as Hoops, Swings, or Mac Demarco. Speaking with AdHoc about the new release, Brendan casts a wide net of influences, including Michael Jackson’s Bad, which he says inspired the swinging rhythm on “Divine.” Overall, Brendan has constructed a great rock tape, one as concise and focused as it is compelling. 


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Shame is Coming to New York—Next Stop, Barbados?

Shame is Coming to New York—Next Stop, Barbados?

Shame are a wild five-piece rock band from South London. With their biting lyrics, crunchy guitars, and hard-as-knuckles songwriting, they kick up quite the storm. Songs like "Concrete" are anthems full of intense emotion, paranoia, anger, and absurdity. Other songs, such as "Theresa May," are quieter, purposeful jabs at the Prime Minister and Tories in England. Known for their high-energy shows, Shame will be playing in New York for the first this Friday, November 10 at Baby's All Right, with support from Honey and Language. Ahead of the gig, we caught up with frontman Charlie Steen. They will 

AdHoc: "Shame" is quite a name. You guys often seem pretty self-assured in your music and performance, so where does the name come from? 

Charlie Steen: The name "Shame" is something of a gift we recieved from our technical advisor and saviour, Lenin, our drummer Forbes' dad. After sitting at our practice space—The Queens Head in Brixton—for weeks, churning out the worst band names imaginable, "Shame" was the only one we didn't quite hate and eventually learned to accept. 

How did you guys end up playing together?

I think we all started playing together more out of pure boredom than anything else. The group's ties run deep, as we all went to various schools together through our childhood and teens, and it just came to be that one day we decided to play music.

Let’s talk about “Concrete,” your new song and video. It’s a pretty paranoid song. What was on your mind while writing it? 

Lyrically, the song is about someone in a trapped relationship. We all know someone in this situation or have been in this situation ourselves, [and] I wanted to speculate on the emotional and psychological damage this might cause to the person involved.

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Michael Rault Discusses His Edmonton History and Trippy-as-Hell Music

Michael Rault Discusses His Edmonton History and Trippy-as-Hell Music

Michael Rault is a singer-songwriter from Edmonton, Alberta whose music is heavily indebted to the psych-pop of the '60s and '70s. His new single, “Sleep With Me,” showcases his penchant for the sun-splashed melodies and woozy guitar licks that dominated late-20th century counterculture and its descendants (The Olivia Tremor Control, Tame Impala, et al.). As the song bounces toward its end, Rault introduces a string section—first a rumbling cello, then a light and airy violin—that elevates the sound into the perfect encapsulation of a summer day. The music video, too, combines grainy film stock and DIY collage techniques to form a fitting homage to the nostalgic, washed-out colors of the era. You can catch Micahel Rault tonight at Alphaville with BOYTOY and Baby Jay. 

Adhoc: There’s a lot of '60s and '70s-style psych and pop in your sound. What draws you to that kind of music?

Michael Rault: Well, I'm a guitar player and I was raised by a family of musicians who came up playing in bands throughout the '60s and ;70s. So, just by the nature of my background and the instrument I was originally drawn to as a young kid, I was naturally predisposed to the sounds of the '60s and '70s. Being a guitar player in 2017 almost immediately marks you as a retro artist, it seems. I'm also a fan of live music, the and live feel, and I tend to spend more time playing instruments than I do messing around with my computer software, just because I enjoy it more as a way to pass the time. So, I think that the methods I'm attracted to and have become well-versed in automatically put me into a similar space to where artists from the '60s and '70s were coming from. As far as the psychedelic element goes, I think I am interested in surrealism and fantasy in a lot of different forms, so it comes out in my music in different ways.

Are there any influences/musicians you’re listening to that would surprise fans?

Maybe? I'm not too sure what would be surprising, but I listen to a lot of different music. I was really deep into Alice Coltrane's Universal Concioussness album for large parts of this past year. I also have been obsessed with the first four 10cc albums lately. I suppose I generally am drawing inspiration from the roots and offshoots of early 20th century American music, but I'm not as constrained by particular decades or genres as people might think.

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LA Witch Left The City of Angels For A Three Year-Long Tour

LA Witch Left The City of Angels For A Three Year-Long Tour Photography by Marco Hernandez

L.A. Witch are a three-piece group of rockers from the City of Angels. Their rollicking sound blends together a myriad of influences–garage rock, harsh punk, and the surf-rock of their hometown. The band–singer and guitarist Sade Sanchez, bassist Irita Pai, and drummer Ellie English–recently released their debut self-titled album after three years of touring. The album’s nine songs showcase the band’s compact and tight groove: “Brian” could play on the soundtrack of a mirage-hazy western, and “Baby In Blue Jeans” sounds like the Supremes after one too many drinks. The songs, fleeting as they may be (the album clocks in at just over 30 minutes), are all climax, rushing headlong into a cathartic and devilish end. AdHoc recently chatted with Sade and Irita ahead of their show on 11/3 at Saint Vitus with Camera and Ghost King.
AdHoc: You've been together for about 5 years.  How did the band start originally?  Where did the name come from?
Irita: Our friend Tony added us to a show he was doing at Little Joy and needed a name for the flyer. We originally wanted just Witch but the name was taken.
Sade: We were a four piece originally. I was introduced to Irita through a mutual friend and we started the band. We lost our first drummer to New York. I knew Ellie from a two-piece band we had in high school and I asked her to fill in on some shows, then she just kinda became part of the band. 
Are there any L.A. groups that had an influence on the sound of L.A. Witch? 
Irita: The Gun Club, X, Screamers, Love.
Sade: The Gun Club was a huge one for us when we first started. L.A. has so much music history which helped a lot. A lot of great rock and roll has come from L.A., along with garage and surf, and I guess you can say we’re a blend of all that. We’re lucky to have been in the middle of a cool music scene when we started.
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Bad History Month is Back with A Platitude, and a Final Understanding

Bad History Month is back with A Platitude, and a Final Understanding

Boston’s folk-rock band Bad History Month is back with A Platitude and a Final Understanding a new song off of their forthcoming album Dead And Loving It: An Introductory Exploration Of Pessimysticism out November 3rd on Exploding In Sound. Platitude is a methodical and plodding track, a slow burner far from boring. It moves in slow, heavy steps through a train of thought as thick as the wettest snow of early November. A Platitude is an isolating walk for singer and main songwriter Sean Bean, filled with personal regret, doubt and introspection. The song shapes a sparse musical biome of electric guitars and slow drums lead by Bean’s vocals, weaving a quiet, but impactful sound that prove he is losing, but isn’t lost.

Bean, who is notoriously private, often changing his name in order to avoid the attention that his music brings, puts the listener in between his ears. He is searching to find something new within himself. At the climax of the track there is a moment of clarity signaled by an organ and piano where, Bean recognizes both his gratefulness to the world around him, and his greater desire to help himself because there are “more than enough fuck ups.”  As the moment of clarity passes, he feels himself sliding back into old ways of the song, recognizing a cyclical nature of growth and regression. There are two voices here in unison, speaking towards a final result of synergy and creation. Through the sense of failure and self loathing there really isn’t a failure, there is a song. There is a clarity that is crystalized through the repetition of making music that is both cathartic for the artist and listener. Bad History Month opens for Pile at Market Hotel on 12/9

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