Review: Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Liars, Ex Models

YEAH YEAH YEAHS, LIARS, EX MODELS
AT MERCURY LOUNGE, NYC
MAY 2, 2002

I heard the Liars on WFMU last year and thought they were great: irreverent, lively, and they sounded like 20-year old fuckarounds. High-on-life kids make good music. Hollis Queens sussed out the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Ex-Models, and she knows the score. I bought a ticket before the show sold out and picked up four Negro Modelas from Steve’s deli on Avenue A.

The Ex Models are Brooklyn folks, the lead singer Shahin and his lead guitar brother Sean Motia by way of Providence. Take a dose of arty Providence, add in a little Metallica and Glenn Branca, a computer, and mix 'em up in East Williamsburg and you have Ex-Models.

You can have a hook without playing a riff and these guys play a succession of really tight, superfast, catchy hooks. They switch gears a half-dozen times and promptly end every song in less than a minute and a half without ever requiring a melody.

Frustrating maybe, because the hooks are played so well. Listening to them is like taking one of those elevator freefall rides at the amusement park: a hell of a good time for 30 seconds but you wish it lasted longer. Imagine a quick-change up-tempo band like Mr. Bungle without every last drop of extraneous razzmatazz. I'd see them again in a minute, but only because I want one more chance to catch that half-minute high.

"We all love metal. But an 8-minute metal song is self-indulgent and boring, and we're hypercritical and impatient. So we take the best parts and trim the fat," explains Jake Fiedler, the drummer who has to keep the lickety-split changes from careening out of control. "It's not easy. It can take months to work out a detail. We practice with a computer to repeat changes, and then burn the hooks into our little CD-ROM memories."

Whereas Ex Models were tight and fast, the Liars were groovy and rawkish. When they started the crowd in the back lit up jays. The lead singer (Angus Andrew) pranced onto the stage in a trashy mesh trucker hat and grinned boyishly to the crowd. He brought some sort of analog-delay voice pedal that put a hollow echo on his voice, making it sound druggey. The bass guy (Pat Noecker) began by emanating some spacey theremin-like noises from an electronic box, while the drummer (Ron Albertson) kept a steady beat on the downlow. I don’t think he had a true crash symbol. The guitarist, Aaron Hemphill, picked up the melodies and added the spazz and backing vocals to give the band its true definition.

Angus looked like a cross between Thurston Moore and Justin Bond, with an Aussie/Queen’s English (actually Australian) nasal tone. Tall and scraggly-haired, arty and campy, he liked to touch himself on stage and pose.

Their full sound was a cross between a garage band on junk and an art band on high-powered herb, the kind that makes you jumpy. I thought they would sound more like harried rock and roll, punkish–what I remembered from the live radio show. But the spaciness and lack of ‘alternative rock’ meant something else. "No wave," confided Hollis to me and that term seemed to stick.

They carried the tunes well. "We melted all the guns, and we did it together," smirked Angus with that echo-influenced nasal drawl while the band jalopied along with a crashing guitar, hoofing bass beat, and muted, steady drums. They played maybe ten songs, all of them with creatively irreverent and diffident lyrics and varying degrees of jamming out. In the end, it was a good and worthy performance.

Afterwards I talked to the band’s leaders, Aaron and Angus, who met in L.A. while Aaron was paying his dues working in a clothing store and Angus was attending CalArts. They seem to have stuck to each other because they both appreciated hip-hop and dance music (that’s what they said at least. Probably lying). When Aaron picked up and moved to New York, Angus joined. Together they put out flyers for band members and picked up the experienced Noecker and Albertson.

"I was making video installations, but all you would get is 50 people to come and stand and look at your work. Galleries are like showrooms. But music is like, wow, everything," says Angus. "I realize it’s a performance and you're the performer. This band is an avenue to be creative and theatrical. Maybe I’ll learn an instrument for the next album."

They have a 5-record deal with Mute. You’ll hear of them soon enough if not already, I s’pose.

To me, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs owe a lot to their sole guitarist Nick Zinner. Lead singer Karen O. picks up a mini Casio or some other sort of musicbox from time to time, but for the most part it’s only Zinner and drummer Brian Chase carrying the sound, and they carry it well. Zinner’s versatility is matched by Chase’s adept drumming and between them you could easily be entertained for hours. When you add in Karen O’s cheerful, Siouxsie-sioux stage presence (with a Kate Bush high-pitched gear in her voicebox) you’ve got a nice little package.

Still, it's all about Zinner. He's a guitar savant with mousy features and a Gummo haircut and I never did talk to him. He’s the dark star. If you can–trap this man, corner him like a Leprechaun and get his gold. Don’t let him escape until he tells you his secrets. Secrets of the universe.

-- T. Leonardo



		YEAH YEAH YEAHS, LIARS, EX MODELS AT MERCURY LOUNGE, NYC MAY 2, 2002 I heard the Liars on WFMU last year and thought they were great: irreverent, lively, and they sounded like 20-year old fuckarounds. High-on-life kids make good music. Hollis Queens sussed out the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Ex-Models, and she knows the score. I bought a ticket before the show sold out and picked up four Negro Modelas from Steve’s deli on Avenue A. The Ex Models are Brooklyn folks, the lead singer Shahin and his lead guitar brother Sean Motia by way of Providence. Take a dose of arty Providence, add in a little Metallica and Glenn Branca, a computer, and mix 'em up in East Williamsburg and you have Ex-Models. You can have a hook without playing a riff and these guys play a succession of really tight, superfast, catchy hooks. They switch gears a half-dozen times and promptly end every song in less than a minute and a half without ever requiring a melody. Frustrating maybe, because the hooks are played so well. Listening to them is like taking one of those elevator freefall rides at the amusement park: a hell of a good time for 30 seconds but you wish it lasted longer. Imagine a quick-change up-tempo band like Mr. Bungle without every last drop of extraneous razzmatazz. I'd see them again in a minute, but only because I want one more chance to catch that half-minute high. "We all love metal. But an 8-minute metal song is self-indulgent and boring, and we're hypercritical and impatient. So we take the best parts and trim the fat," explains Jake Fiedler, the drummer who has to keep the lickety-split changes from careening out of control. "It's not easy. It can take months to work out a detail. We practice with a computer to repeat changes, and then burn the hooks into our little CD-ROM memories." Whereas Ex Models were tight and fast, the Liars were groovy and rawkish. When they started the crowd in the back lit up jays. The lead singer (Angus Andrew) pranced onto the stage in a trashy mesh trucker hat and grinned boyishly to the crowd. He brought some sort of analog-delay voice pedal that put a hollow echo on his voice, making it sound druggey. The bass guy (Pat Noecker) began by emanating some spacey theremin-like noises from an electronic box, while the drummer (Ron Albertson) kept a steady beat on the downlow. I don’t think he had a true crash symbol. The guitarist, Aaron Hemphill, picked up the melodies and added the spazz and backing vocals to give the band its true definition. Angus looked like a cross between Thurston Moore and Justin Bond, with an Aussie/Queen’s English (actually Australian) nasal tone. Tall and scraggly-haired, arty and campy, he liked to touch himself on stage and pose. Their full sound was a cross between a garage band on junk and an art band on high-powered herb, the kind that makes you jumpy. I thought they would sound more like harried rock and roll, punkish–what I remembered from the live radio show. But the spaciness and lack of ‘alternative rock’ meant something else. "No wave," confided Hollis to me and that term seemed to stick. They carried the tunes well. "We melted all the guns, and we did it together," smirked Angus with that echo-influenced nasal drawl while the band jalopied along with a crashing guitar, hoofing bass beat, and muted, steady drums. They played maybe ten songs, all of them with creatively irreverent and diffident lyrics and varying degrees of jamming out. In the end, it was a good and worthy performance. Afterwards I talked to the band’s leaders, Aaron and Angus, who met in L.A. while Aaron was paying his dues working in a clothing store and Angus was attending CalArts. They seem to have stuck to each other because they both appreciated hip-hop and dance music (that’s what they said at least. Probably lying). When Aaron picked up and moved to New York, Angus joined. Together they put out flyers for band members and picked up the experienced Noecker and Albertson. "I was making video installations, but all you would get is 50 people to come and stand and look at your work. Galleries are like showrooms. But music is like, wow, everything," says Angus. "I realize it’s a performance and you're the performer. This band is an avenue to be creative and theatrical. Maybe I’ll learn an instrument for the next album." They have a 5-record deal with Mute. You’ll hear of them soon enough if not already, I s’pose. To me, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs owe a lot to their sole guitarist Nick Zinner. Lead singer Karen O. picks up a mini Casio or some other sort of musicbox from time to time, but for the most part it’s only Zinner and drummer Brian Chase carrying the sound, and they carry it well. Zinner’s versatility is matched by Chase’s adept drumming and between them you could easily be entertained for hours. When you add in Karen O’s cheerful, Siouxsie-sioux stage presence (with a Kate Bush high-pitched gear in her voicebox) you’ve got a nice little package. Still, it's all about Zinner. He's a guitar savant with mousy features and a Gummo haircut and I never did talk to him. He’s the dark star. If you can–trap this man, corner him like a Leprechaun and get his gold. Don’t let him escape until he tells you his secrets. Secrets of the universe. -- T. Leonardo
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