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Posts Tagged ‘music’

NEW BAMM.TV VIDEO: DLRN, ‘FEAR & LOATHING’

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BAMM.tv Presents: DLRN – "Fear & Loathing" (feat. Stevie Nader) from BAMM.tv on Vimeo.

Featuring Stevie Nader on vocals, DLRN creates a soundscape within the measure of this song. Sean LaMarr’s rhythmic interplay with the lurching tempo creates a brooding, ominous mood perfect for the subject matter of the song.

UPDATE: You can catch DLRN live in Sacramento on 5/29 at Concerts In The Park! For details head here: http://godowntownsac.com/events/signature-events/concerts-in-the-park/

OTHER BAMM.TV STORIES YOU MIGHT LIKE:

New BAMM.tv Video: Sorne, ‘Eat Your Young’

New BAMM.tv Video: Esteman, ‘De Otro Planeta’


New BAMM.tv video: Blackbird Blackbird, ‘Tangerine Sky’

New BAMM.tv Video: Peter Fenn, ‘I Remember’

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BAMM.tv Presents: Peter Fenn – "I Remember" from BAMM.tv on Vimeo.

At the end of the day, one of the most important elements to a song is simply whether or not a songwriter really means what he or she says. There’s no doubt Penn Fenn believes every word he sings in this contemplative – and BAMM.tv exclusive – performance of ‘I Remember’. The silence between the vocals and guitar strokes only serves to reinforce the warmth of the song.

OTHER BAMM.TV STORIES YOU MIGHT LIKE:

New BAMM.tv Video: Sorne, ‘Eat Your Young’

New BAMM.tv Video: Esteman, ‘De Otro Planeta’


New BAMM.tv video: Blackbird Blackbird, ‘Tangerine Sky’

New BAMM.tv Video: We Became Owls, ‘Please Surrender’

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BAMM.tv Presents: We Became Owls – "Please Surrender" from BAMM.tv on Vimeo.

In keeping with the bird of prey they’re named after, Oakland’s We Became Owls are really beginning to turn some heads with their heartfelt brand of alt-country Americana. In this exclusive performance of ‘Please Surrender’, Ross Warner (mandolin and backing vocals) provides all the support this sincere, beautifully sad song requires.

UPDATE: We Became Owls are playing at the Great American Music Hall TONIGHT (4/17). Get your tickets here!

OTHER BAMM.TV STORIES YOU MIGHT LIKE:

New BAMM.tv Video: Sorne, ‘Eat Your Young’

New BAMM.tv Video: Esteman, ‘De Otro Planeta’


New BAMM.tv video: Blackbird Blackbird, ‘Tangerine Sky’

New BAMM.tv Video: Sorne, ‘Eat Your Young’

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“Eat Your Young” comes from Sorne’s House of Stone saga. The concept piece – it’s much more than an album and includes writings, art installations, visual art, performance art, and more – is told from the perspective of the five main characters. Eat Your Young is told from the perspective of the First Born Son. For more, check out www.sorne.com to see just how immersive this project is see the multi-talented Morgan Sorne in action.

Disneyland No More: A Teenager’s Rock Pilgrimage To L.A.

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In July, 2013, BAMM.tv’s intern Madeleine Buzbee took a road trip down to Los Angeles with her parents. The Mission: come face-to-face with the mythology of the L.A. music scene.

“I am going to Los Angeles and am NOT going to Disneyland.” Big changes were happening, because for the first time I was visiting LA on a music expedition without much of schedule. I wanted to have the full road trip experience, with lots of mixtapes and abandoned town stops along the way. I lusted to have an experience open my eyes to new music. I wanted a new music identity, like someone would want a new wardrobe, and I was going to LA to find it.

For as long as I can remember, music has always been the thing I could relate to the most, and has provided me with the words and concepts to define who I- a 15 year old San Francisco kid- identify as. It’s rare that a few weeks pass without a night at a venue along side my friends.

I envisioned that upon arriving in LA, I would witness paparazzi running down “the-next-big-things” driveway. I expected to see lots of live music, and get a feel for a music culture separate from the open arms culture the Bay Area encompasses. I wanted to see punk rock in a tiny venue in Downtown LA. I wanted to experience the crowd surge around me to the music coming from the speakers above in the oh-so-hip Southern California atmosphere, and I wanted to walk into a record shop and receive recommendations from a local. This was wishful thinking. I had not considered the size of Los Angeles, the mythology of “fame”, and the fact that this self-discovering music expedition was to be executed by a team. Aside from me, the team was comprised of my 56 year-old parents, who didn’t enjoy standing for too long, things that are too loud, nor driving for too far. As I would learn on this trip, all of those scenarios are unavoidable in LA.

SLO

Here’s the thing about traveling to somewhere beautiful in California: more often than not, you have to travel through strip mall towns and down highways sandwiched between warehouses to get to your destination. Our first stop on the road trip was the hilly seaside town of San Luis Obispo. Inhabited primarily by Cal Poly students, I expected a lot of pizza by the slice and a couple of record stores. The first record shop I visited was Booboo Records just off the main road. The walls were covered with posters representing every era and every genre imaginable. Amidst the chaos of the crowded record store hung an enormous chandelier. It added to the shop’s charm.

I talked with the man at the back counter about the jist of the store. Booboo has been in SLO since 1974, and sells newer vinyl and lots of merchandise pertaining to bands and SLO. He explained that working in the shop had just started as a way to pay off student loans, but eventually led him to become an enthusiast about newer music and added that he had started making his own music in his dorm. It was always refreshing and inspiring to meet someone acting on his passions and creating art. Booboo seemed to foster a warm and fuzzy feeling amongst the shelves, similar to the record stores I’m accustomed to. The store seemed to provide a ton of new vinyl that I hadn’t seen back in San Francisco. I was having deja-vu; this was exactly what I had dreamt of. This tiny room held so many albums just ready to have a needle dropped on to their surface, and was sprinkled with people who were thirsty for those sounds.

I received a few recommendations from that man, ranging from Boards of Canada to Surfer Blood. I browsed for an hour or so, admiring the posters and large David Bowie selection. Despite this being the first day of the trip on a relatively strict budget consisting of my birthday money, I could not leave the store empty handed. I picked up Little Joy and The Velvet Underground’s always lovely Loaded.

A few blocks over from Booboo is a maze of used records called Cheap Thrills. Cheap Thrills opened up a few years before Booboo and specializes in CD’s, some used records, and, as I learned the second I saw a herd of 11 year-old boys rushing across the store, extensive amounts of Futurama memorabilia. I walked up the attic stairs to their vinyl section, admiring the murky space with endless shelves of rock records. The atmosphere was very similar to what I was used to in San Francisco, and the urge to search through crates for the miniscule chance of finding something to add to my collection drew me in. After an hour of sorting through bins and hopeless, sweaty moments where I was ready to stop searching, a few vinyls clicked. I headed out with a copy of a the Rolling Stones’ Through The Past, Darkly. It had no corners and the track sheet had been previously annotated with gel pen reading “I WANT YOU, MICK!”. I was holding a piece of someone’s past, possibly scribbled during a warm Southern California trip, like I was embarking on.

I crossed the street for a cup of coffee and found a window seat. I looked out at the unfamiliar, yet inviting, streets of San Luis Obispo. The Woman by Rhye played throughout the cafe. At sunset, we set out to Morro Bay for dinner and eavesdropped on the surrounding tables for the final 3 hours in SLO. I overheard stories of love, debt, bad toddlers, and a lost cat. This all seemed like the worthy subject matter for a country song.

Santa Barbara and The Coast

Stopping in Santa Barbara, I received a recommendation from the man at Pizza My Heart. He played all of Telekinesis’ Power Lines as my mom and I stared out at the countless surf shops and hungover UCSB students. For a moment, I felt like I was living that picturesque Southern California beach town dream. It was ephemeral. Moments later, we hit the road again, with our final destination being Santa Monica. I stared out at the picturesque waves that refused to stop kissing the shore, in awe at the land that had inspired so many artists. The albums accompanying the drive seemed so fitting, knowing that some of the inspiration for these albums came from the seaside on which I was feasting my eyes. Best Coast and DIIV roared through the speakers as we descended towards the long awaited music-Mecca below.

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Santa Monica

The next morning, I awoke on the edge of the futon bed in our art-deco hotel room to the sound of German tourists splashing around in the Grinch-green pool below. Several episodes of SpongeBob and one bagel later, I walked onto real Santa Monica soil. Clear skies, palm trees, and 70 degree water. I hit the shore. Out off the shore, emerged the pier. I discovered that all games and merchants offered the same thing: a chance to have your very own One Direction pillow and/or a keychain with your name written on a piece of rice.

Back on The Promenade, countless street artists singing over backing tracks serenaded the shoppers. The performers were often very talented but, like it is in any city, maybe 1 in 500 people would drop a few spare coins in their hats. The store fronts were inviting, pumping Disclosures’ newest single through the speakers to lure me in. Then it was time to put the endless maze of chain stores to the test.

I asked Siri, in an effort to feel futuristic, “Find the nearest Record Store”. To my disappointment, Siri could only suggest a Barnes and Noble and an Urban Outfitters, all the way on the other side of the complex. I trekked out to Urban Outfitters, in hopes that they might have some local vinyl selections, despite being a chain. No such luck. Only Justin Timberlake’s 20/20 and unloved copies of Sigur Ros lined the nearly barren vinyl section. The rack was placed among headbands and sunglasses. Here, vinyl was an accessory. I wondered if the music would ever be appreciated by their future owners, or just another object to instagram.

Hollywood and Downtown

On the evening of our third night in the area, my parents and I drove nearly 4 hours to Hollywood to see the only all-ages show we could make: a local electronic alternative band called Kitten. The traffic was accompanied by Los Angeles by Flying Lotus. The drive lacked anything resembling a landmark, so this was the perfect noise to keep the brain busy while stalled at endless red lights. The most exciting thing I managed to see on the road was the West Hollywood Post Office.

A line looped around the block leading towards The Troubadour–the legendary venue found inside a German-inspired woodland church right off of Pico Blvd. The scene outside didn’t differ much from the venues in San Francisco, as the air was buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The man at the door stamped my hand with the under-18 stamp, and rolled his eyes. Everything was dulled down in the venue and the excitement seemed to disappear into thin air. Quiet chatter and blank stares echoed in the lofty church space. My parents went up to the balcony to rest their old knees- so as usual, we separated as I joined the crowd. The only time those around me spoke, they would make some sort of complaint. By the time the music started, all the crowd became a sea of white screens and unappreciative, sweaty middle-aged men, and annoying teenagers. When Kitten began her rendition of Prince’s Purple Rain, the crowd swayed. It was such a relief. The people on the floor below still resembled human beings. No fan pressed against the stage seemed to sing along. Little collaboration occurred between the audience and the performers. The band had great energy, but I realized that if the energy doesn’t carry into the crowd, the whole picture can’t come alive.

The following day, the entire family headed to The Grammy Museum. LA was a tangled mess of highways, dipping over and under each other, filled with cars driven by very busy people. The streets sandwiched between the iconic downtown skyscrapers were filled with the same very busy people whom I had encountered the night before at The Troubadour, but this time in suits. Upon arriving at the museum, it seemed like just another set of encased artifacts and security guards on the prowl for tourists trying to snap a picture next to the Daft Punk helmets. In a matter of sheer moments, I would have my big “ah-ha” moment.

I stood next to Ringo’s drum set– the very one he recorded Abbey Road on. The surroundings were adorned with Beatles paraphernalia and replicas of Ringo’s costumes, along with photos of The Beatles’ first time in LA.

Standing with my face pressed against the glass panes protecting the drums, I found what I had been searching for–a glimpse into the world of fame and excellence from the stories I had been told, and the trip I had envisioned. I was inches away from the instrument where history had been banged into. Yet, I did not breathe the same air as it. The days when those snares sounded had passed many decades ago. I was only 3 inches of bulletproof glass away from the connection to the music that I had been searching for.

The Road Home

We left the flats of LA and back into the hills, hoping to reach San Francisco before nightfall. Passing through countless valleys and farming towns, I listened to The Black Keys, Mac Demarco, and Christopher Owens. I was going to return with a memorable moments, but not nearly to the extent I envisioned. The experience with Ringo’s drums served as a distilled experience. On one hand I was experiencing a piece of what made pop possible, but I was still detached.. I was aware of the talent and wonders that burrowed in LA, but I couldn’t access them. I imagined LA to be so different than my previous travels–it harbored a reputation across such a large stretch of busy and annoyed people, that it is hard to expect everything in sight to reflect that ideal.

Crazy weather creates crazy people. That can be a positive thing– inspiring Flying Lotus’ and DIIV’s vibes that are hard to internalize, but so satisfying once finally decoded. It can also result in angry, drunk people in tiny venues feeling self-entitled. Perhaps the glorious fame and talent that had been rumored to live in Southern California was not a myth after all. Maybe that talent just had gone on vacation in the summer of 2013. Maybe I had experienced a copy of a copy, or a fabrication of the genuine aspects of talent. It all felt filtered. My parents experienced the trip similar to the way I had, but seemed to lose hope in finding that genuine experience we were chasing. Even the bones of that ideal were impressive, and if you looked far and wide, you might catch a glimpse into the wonderful, creative madness of the City of Angels.

Does LA’s music industry really value fame over excellence, or are the real gems hidden away in the cassette rack in San Luis Obispo, or in the presence of Ringo’s Sergeant Pepper costume? LA had proved to be a weird, hauntingly mysterious sprawl, but more than anything, begs for exploration. Rolling past hundreds of gas stations and tomato fields, Devendra Banhart played- the perfect music for reflection. I was more than eager to return to my friend, Karl The Fog, with armfuls of vinyl and the mystery of the elusive Los Angeles on my mind.

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Madeleine Buzbee has been an intern at BAMM.tv since late 2012. She was born and raised in San Francisco, and is currently a high school student Jewish Community High School in the Western Addition of San Francisco. She spends her summers in Montreal and uses mixtapes as a way to score her travels. She loves writing and curating various mediums. She hopes to go into journalism some day, and has her mind set on living in New York City. On any given day, you can find her mistaking herself for a Ronnette or eating over-priced toast while listening to Mac Demarco.

Maddy’s playlist from her trip:

Song she’s listened to more than any other: “Is This It,” by The Strokes

Tea Leaf Green: Their Personal Playlist

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We asked our Featured Artist – the phenomenal Tea Leaf Green – to compile a playlist of five songs that totally rock their … erm … teacup (listen, you try to think of a tea pun). Their choices make for eclectic listening, featuring Van Halen’s ‘Hot For Teacher’, Rush’s ‘Time Stands Still’, The Coup’s ‘Guillotine’, The Beatles’ ‘Hard Days Night’ and the
Beastie Boys’ ‘Sabotage’
. Enjoy!

Why I Love Music: BAMM.tv’s Peter Hackmann

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Music has played a major role in my life ever since my older brother decided he wanted to learn how to play drums. Naturally, as the little brother I had a juvenile obsession with his decision and followed closely, admiring his shiny black and chrome kit and the seemingly random things he would play on it after a drum class. What I didn’t realize is how greatly his decision to study music would affect the trajectory of my own life. When I decided to try out for band as a 13 year-old, I was told by the teacher that I would make a fine addition to the horn section. But, taking my brother’s lead, I opted for the ‘things you bang on’ section instead.

Down the rabbit hole I went. Playing percussion soon became an obsession. Anything I could get my hands on became a snare drum, marimba, triangle, or bass drum. I would find myself listening to fluorescent light bulbs for their pitch and tuning the timpani to the sound of light in the band hall. Competition after competition, performance after performance, playing music became a highly-addictive and ‘can’t-do-without‘ feature of my life. This is one reason that I love music. It has the delightfully infectious ability to give life meaning and substance, and teach people to focus, listen, reflect, and ultimately better themselves – and share these things with an audience.

But an even greater reason that I love music, besides its individual benefits, is because it functions as a truly global language. During college, I had the opportunity to travel abroad and interact with very different cultures which, as my aunt put it, was like “traveling to the moon” for her generation. When translation failed, and it often did, I turned to music. I found that simply pulling out a guitar and strumming chords could turn foreigners into friends, after the wine was consumed, of course. A playlist on my iPod once turned a benign roommates’ dinner into a night on the town. Just knowing and appreciating music from other cultures has ignited conversations and friendships, whether at a bar in Mexico, a birthday party in Italy, or a seminar in New York.

I can remember one occasion where I performed with a girl from South Korea, who was a talented, if timid, musician. She spoke almost no English, and I speak no Korean, but when we played together no words were needed. Our language became phrasing, tempo, dynamics, and the movement of sticks. We could play a sonata without even speaking to each other. I’m also reminded of the times at a folk festival in Texas when donning my washboard allowed me to jam with “the Nashville camps” simply because it was something we all recognized and understood (Even Tennessee is somewhat foreign to Texans). No language can even come close to these types of communication, only music.

In essence, what I love about music is that all people, regardless of age, origin, or language, are hard-wired to understand it. Even in today’s hyper-active, hyper-connected world, music remains a testament to the oldest and simplest of human instincts: the desire to come together and share, learn, and simply enjoy sound itself. I never considered any of this when my brother first practiced his drum kit, but now I understand just how crucial those experiences with music were to me. And that’s why I love it.

OTHER BAMM.TV STORIES YOU MIGHT LIKE:

Why I Love Music: BAMM.tv’s Jerad Fox


Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Phil Lang

Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Jeff LaPenna

Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Sophie DeWitt

Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Christopher Davies

Why I Love Music: BAMM.tv’s Sarah Levitt

BAMM.tv Featured Artist: Tea Leaf Green

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San Francisco’s Tea Leaf Green describe themselves as “newfangled Lost Boys, a traveling gang dedicated to seeking wisdom and experience in places both glorious and seedy”. This may sound opaque, but once you wrap your ears around their sound – playful, radio-ready yet adventurous pop-rock – you’ll get it. Don’t worry. It’s simply just “ultimately Rock and Roll”, they reflect, “improvisation with respect for the songs.”

(more…)

Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Christopher Davies

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Here’s the latest in our series of articles in which we ask the BAMM.tv crew one simple question: why do you love music? Walking up to bat this time around is BAMM.tv Editorial Director Christopher Davies …

What does ‘love’ actually mean, anyway? That old stalwart The Oxford English Dictionary simply refers to it as “a strong feeling of affection”, which frankly seems like the kind of vagueness a modern politician would peddle. If we take that meaning literally, then to say ‘I love music’ would mean ‘I really am quite fond of music.’

‘Quite fond’ … yeah, that’s not going to cover it. ‘Quite fond’ doesn’t describe the sensation I had when I first cranked up The Avalanches’ Since I Left You or My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless or Pulp’s This Is Hardcore or any of the million albums that have soundtracked my life, emotions, memories and even moulded my general worldview. ‘Quite fond’ doesn’t cover the tingles I get when Johnny Marr begins that guitar fiddling in Talking Head’s Nothing But Flowers. It doesn’t cover the serene dopamine rush of chillng out to Stars Of The Lid’s That Finger on Your Temple Is the Barrel of My Raygun. It doesn’t cover the laugh-out-loud wonderment of hearing R.A The Rugged Man spit his rhymes (“If i ain’t the best then I’m the closest / I’m like Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis”).

Buuuut then again … ‘love’ might not cover that feeling either. Because – and you’ll forgive me if I indulge the sentiments of Foreigner for a moment – no-one quite knows what love is in the first place. Why do I ‘love’ music? Not to be a cop-out but I honestly couldn’t say. I just know that it makes me feel something … and that’s good enough for me.

OTHER BAMM.TV STORIES YOU MIGHT LIKE:

Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Sophie DeWitt

Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Jeff LaPenna

Why I Love Music – BAMM.tv’s Phil Lang