Getting a bit Senti-metal: Anvil, Guns N' Roses

Ok, so a blog about metal music is likely the last thing I would expect from me. But hey, it's my blog's one year birthday (!!!) and I think I'm entitled to branch out into some uncharted territories here.

I have to back this up by saying the urge to keep rocking harder is not a new sensation. I flirted with hardcore rock in high school (and admittedly the boys who liked it), and the urge for dance music comes from that same primal place of wanting a rhythm to shake you to your core and make you move in uncontrollable ways, not unlike an addict wanting a more intense experience. It is for this precise reason that on the rare occasion that I choose to embarrass myself at karaoke that I always fall back on Guns N' Roses "Sweet Child of Mine." While I don't think I will ever be a rockstar, for those few moments that I get to yell in my best cracking falsetto, shake out my mane, and play some air guitar that would only be improved by more beer, I get that satisfying whiff of what it must be like to truly rock. And it's AWESOME.

So it was only appropriately that tonight I should go see Anvil: The Story of Anvil, a touching tale about a metal band that had all the ingredients for success but whose souffle never rose. It was poignant, funny, and shed a glaring backstage light on a rock band with thirty years of history.

But the uglier, unflattering side of rock can be beautiful sometimes and that's where metal comes in. I loved the raw electric energy of Anvil's "Metal on Metal," with it's shredding guitars that would undoubtedly leave my ears ringing post gig, and the deliciously creepy vocals of Lips Kudlow that were punctured with deeply soul shaking animal growls.

And as I watched footage of these (mostly male) audiences clad in black and rocking out harder than I probably have in my life, I sort of got it. While it may be unlikely that I will ever reach the level where I start following acts such as Bone Gnawer, I respect what fathered this urge to rock and have to give kudos to anyone who has the delicate ear to hear the subtleties among the subgenres of metal and give themselves up to such an honest, raw place.

In addition to that, I think there's something to be said for the metal audience (again, coming from my somewhat limited experience) as the general tendency to assume that metal is mean music (which some of it may very well be). I'm going to go so far as to say that I think metal might actually make people nice. Having something like metal as such a controlled healthy outlet for anger and agression, I think it ends up being the musical equivalent of a punching bag. I mean, I've met my fair share of assholes who listen to Jack Johnson so why can't it work the other way around? The members of Anvil came off as stand up, even sweet (and often sensitive) guys, and I'd say they were an exception to the rule except that the few individuals I know who are into "scary" music happen to be some of the kindest people I know.

So perhaps it's time to not be quite so afraid of the dark. Or at least recognize its redeeming qualities.

For some serious metal connosseurship from a seriously nice guy, check out Cerebral Metalhead.

Sonos at Banana Republic (album Sonos Sings)

It's rare that a concert blows me away. I can go to a gig, have a good time, but to leave a concert steeped in the flavor of the music to the point where I leave and tell people "ohmygodyouhavetoheartheseguystheyreamaaaazing," well, that's a less frequent occurrence. But there was just so much about this event that really set it apart from other concerts. An acapella group singing covers of lesser known pop artists such as Jazzanova and Bird and the Bee at Banana Republic? Well, at least I knew it would be different. And it was a pretty cool branded experience as well - I know I'll think differently next time I walk into Banana Republic.
There, amid this season's shorts and brightly colored T-shirts, something amazing happened. A group of six young people who could have been going out to dinner, shopping, or doing any other mundane thing began producing an incredible range of meticulously arranged sounds to reproduce some old and new favorites. Their single is the brilliant, crystalline remake of Radiohead's "Everything in it's Right Place," with all the originally digital atmospherics sounding slightly less creepy but no less precise when created organically. Their version of The Bird and the Bee's "Again and Again" showed a keen ear for selection as well. The original lends itself very well to acappella arrangement and is given new life and a greater sense of engagement with vocals interpreting Greg Kurstin's skillful production.
Their cover of The Jackson 5's "I Want You Back" was artfully arranged and remarkably relevant but the two songs in their set that really sold me were ones whose originals I wasn't familiar with but visited after. Their version of Bon Iver's "Re: Stacks" captures the whispery essence of it nicely, but in making the lead vocals female makes it crisper and adds a girlish sweetness that would make it perfect in for one of those heart wrenching scenes in Grey's Anatomy or Garden State. But my absolute favorite was their version of Jazzanova's "Little Bird" (and upon listening to the original I have to give a lot of credit to Jazzanova where it's due.) Sonos manages to capture the warmth and fullness of the strings backing Jose James rich, buttery (yes, I said it!) vocals while putting a more ponderous spin on it.

Their debut is slated to be released September 15th on Verve, but I highly recommend catching a live show - it's truly an experience and brings the group to life as artists in their own right, as opposed to the cool novelty they happen to be as well.

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