New York Music Daily

Global Music With a New York Edge

Category: rap music

Quincy Vidal Bring the Real Brooklyn to Lincoln Center

“One of my favorite bands in New York City,” Lincoln Center’s Viviana Benitez said succinctly, introducing Quincy Vidal’s rambunctious debut there last night . Then she let the Brooklyn hip-hop band’s lyrics speak for themselves.

“When we first got this gig, the first question I asked was, do they know who they booked?” co-leader and rapper Le’Asha Julius grinned. “Do they know the shit we talk about?” Obviously yes: this isn’t your grandfather’s Lincoln Center anymore and hasn’t been for awhile.

Backed by a tight, woozily funky four-piece band: Telecaster, multi-keys, bass and drums – Julius and her lyrical conspirator Caleb “CE” Eberhardt traded verses and spun rapidfire, intricately packed rhymes that ranged from unselfconsciously funny, tonguetwisting battle-of-the-sexes scenarios, to slit-eyed boudoir jams, to some dead-serious, spot-on social commentary.

The duo wrote their first album on Quincy Street in Fort Greene, and Julius grew up on Quincy Street in Washington, DC. The real Quincy Vidal – a college classmate – was in the house, and naturally he got a big shout. And  as much as the funny joints went over the best with the crowd – who rushed in just as the band took the stage – the most resonant material was the most relevant stuff. One of the night’s high points was also the night’s most complicated number, which Eberhardt opened with a thinly veiled reference to the Akai Gurley killing. From there, he went after the young Republican invasion of Brooklyn, hard, while pondering whether it’s possible to walk the line between making a living off these “suckers” and keeping it real.

Toward the end of the group’s hourlong set, the two went more deeply and exasperatedly into that same theme with Tired as Shit, which raises the question of how selling your soul to the white devil just to pay the rent can undermine your artistic career.

The rest of the night was less intense, but the craftsmanship of the lyrics didn’t let up. Eberhardt packs a whole lot of syllables into his rhymes – imagine Bone Thugs if they had something to say. Julius is more straight-ahead: one of her most defiantly funny numbers, she said, she wrote when she was twelve, and that one had a vintage Monie Love charm.

Their first  joint was a guy-meets-girl scenario “for the lovers in the room,” a lot funkier than your typical boudoir jam, the keyboardist having fun doing the Roger vocoder thing with his vocals. Eberhardt freestyled one of the verses of Feeling’ Like, a funny, innuendo-packed sex tune from their first full-length album Chi’ren. and Julius wouldn’t let him get away with the “tingle between your thighs” reference. They segued from there into a conscious shout-along, followed by a rapidfire party bounce number and then Homegrown, an amped-up stoner boudoir neosoul groove that got funky in a split-second.

The night’s funniest song was for the smokers, Zapp & Roger mashed up with the Lost Boyz  – “You’re only talking when you’re high,” was the refrain early on. “I should have stopped three drinks ago, should have left that shit alone,” Eberhardt added as the story gained momentum – or lost it, depending on your perspective. The duo don’t take themselves seriously at all, and their band is strong, reinforced by the gritty bluesmetal guitar solo that ended this one.

The next concert at the Lincoln Center atrium space on Broadway just north of 62nd Street is this Thursday, July 27 at 7:30 PM with kinetic, fearlessly populist oldtime Americana songwriter and banjoist Kaia Kater. The show is free; get there early if you’re going.

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Balkan Beat Box Bring Their Hottest Dancefloor Album Yet to Brooklyn Steel

The immediate image that comes to mind from the opening track on Balkan Beat Box’s new album Shout it Out – streaming at Spotify – is singer Tomer Yosef beckoning a vast crowd of dancers at some summer festival to join in on the chorus. “Can I get a BOOOOM?”

Dude, you can get as much boom as you want because this is a party in a box. Balkan Beat Box have always been a dance band, but this is their danciest record yet. His longtime bandmates, saxophonist Ori Kaplan and ex-Big Lazy drummer Tamir Muskat join him in paring the new songs closer to the bone than ever. The hooks are more disarmingly direct and the beats seem faster than usual, maybe because the energy is so high. For what it’s worth, it’s their least Balkan and most Jamaican-influenced album to date. They’re bringing that kind of party to the Bowery Ballroom empire’s latest and largest New  York venue, Brooklyn Steel in Greenpoint on April 28 at 8 PM. Advance tix are $25, which is not outrageous for a band of this stature. Budget-minded dancers can pick up tix in person at the Mercury Lounge Monday through Friday before the music starts, at around 6, and avoid getting gouged for online service charges

The album keeps the party rolling long after everybody presumably gives Yosef a BOOM. That number, Give It a Tone has echoes of dancefloor reggae. The next, I Trusted U, hints at Bollywood over a Bo Diddley beat that picks up with a mighty sway and a slashing, vintage Burning Spear-style horn chart. The title track is a lean, dub-influenced tune that gives Yosef another big opportunity to engage the crowd.

The woozily strutting electro-dancehall number Ching Ching is really funny, Yosef’s rhymes making fun of status-grubbers who “Wanna be a bigshot on a small screen…everybody do the same twerking,” he snarls. I’ll Watch Myself stirs a simple Balkan brass hook into a pulsing midtempo EDM beat with a little hip-hop layered overhead. From there the group segue into Just the Same, which is the album’s coolest track: a mashup of dub, dancehall and Algerian rai.

Kaplan gets his smoky baritone sax going in Hard Worker, a funny bhangra rap number. “If you want, I can also be Obama,” Yosef wants us to know. There are both fast as well as slower, shorter dub versions of Mad Dog and This Town, the former a No No No-stye noir soul strut, the latter a dancehall tune. There’s also Kum Kum, a skeletally clattering J-pop influenced groove with a girlie chorus. The one thing you can’t do with this is pump up the bass because there basically isn’t any. Bring it on!

Ensemble Mik Nawooj Reinvent Hip-Hop Classics in Harlem

“Rolling down the street, smoking indo!” soprano Anne Hepburn Smith sang, belting at gale force for maximum dramatic effect. A sold-out audience of white tourists exploded in laughter.

“Sipping on gin and juice!” Ensemble Mik Nawooj’s two MCs, Sandman and Do D.A.T. responded. There wasn’t a member of the chamber orchestra behind them who could resist a shit-eating grin. It was as if to say, we can’t believe we’re actually playing this song at all, let alone this way…heating up the coldest night of the year, Saturday night at the Apollo, no less.

In their first-ever New York concert, at the third-floor cafe space there, that Ensemble Mik Nawooj managed to deliver a show worth seeing at all was a major accomplishment. If they’d been able to hear each other onstage, if the sound mix had been even remotely decent, or if bandleader JooWan Kim hadn’t been forced to play the show and conduct the band from the floor, seated in front of the stage at an out-of-tune upright piano whose lid had been ripped off, there’s no telling how much more comfortable this mighty band would have sounded.

They take a well-loved hip-hop formula – moody, lush strings with eerily tinkling piano – to the next level. Hip-hop with a live band goes way back to acts like Rare Essence and Schoolly D, but this show had more in common with Yaasin Bey’s most lavish mashups of rap and classical music. Kim told the crowd that his new arrangements of popular rap hits, most of them from the 90s, would be radical reinventions, and he wasn’t kidding.

Smith didn’t come in until the death-obsessed second number, like Oya with the thunderbolt when things got really intense. The menacing twinkle from Kim’s fingers mingled with the washes of strings from violinist Clare Armenante and cellist Saul Richmond-Rakerd. Flutist Elizabeth Talbert and clarinetist James Pytko animated the set’s funkiest moments while bassist Eugene Theriault and drummer LJ Alexander gave the tunes more swing than any sample or drum machine ever could.

The two MCs nailed the rapidfire rap toward the end of the show’s epic opener syllable for tonguetwisting syllable. Kim directed brisk, catchy ELO-ish chamber pop interludes, starry macabre set pieces and baroque violin passages in between the rappers’ manic flow, bubbly woodwinds interspersed with the lyrics over the tight rhythm section. They mined the Wu-Tang Clan’s classic first album for several joints, starting with C.R.E.A.M. (which to be honest, they played way too fast), then Shame on a Brother and finally their own version of a classic track which they recast as EMN Ain’t Nothing to Fuck With.

They went to their native Cali and made a march out of J Dilla’s Last Donut, and after Gin and Juice, tackled a second Snoop Dogg number, Gz and Hustlaz, shifting from bouncy flute funk to an ominous cinematic minor-key outro. As the show hit a peak, Kim revealed that this live set reflected his response to and eventual bounceback from a series of deaths in his family: it’s not hard to see how hip-hop death fixations and grimness would resonate with him. Beyond that cover of Gin and Juice, the biggest hit with the audience was when the two rappers left the stage, went to the middle of the crowd and dueled without any help from the band. Then again, Vanilla Ice could have gotten a standing O out of this crowd. Here’s hoping that EMN get better sound here the next time around – or play the  main Apollo stage, where the sonics are reliably excellent.

Relevant Mexican Sounds, and the Hip-Hop Elite Salute a Chinatown Legend

Fearless Mexican-American folk-rockers Las Cafeteras have a cool free download today just in time for President’s Day. If I Was President is off their forthcoming Tastes Like LA album. “We’ve got a different kind of party in the White House tonight.” For real!

And even if rap or stoner Chinese food isn’t your thing, and you’re a New Yorker, check out Narcotechs‘ great new video for their joint Chicken Lo Mein. They filmed it at Wo Hop. If you’re OG NYC, at one time or another you’ve indulged at the legendary Mott Street spot. This was filmed in the basement space – duh – not the street-level room, which draws the tourists in for more ducats. The production draws on a Wu-tang classic from back in the day. Relive your lost youth in this one if you can remember it.

Fearless Populist Lyrical Insight From Hip-Hop Artist Decora at Lincoln Center

In his Lincoln Center debut last night, rapper Decora tackled one controversial issue after another with eloquence, and mind-expanding flow, and crushingly spot-on insight. He takes the everyday issues that we all struggle with and makes them poetic – if you need validation, Decora’s there for you. Honestly and succinctly, he tackled topics as far-reaching as the sociological roots of police brutality, the challenges of being one of five black or latino guys in a redneck white upstate town, the trials of raising a multicultural kid under Donald Trump white supremacy, and the toll racism takes on a relationship. He’s something akin to a young Nas without the gangbanger backdrop, or Guru without the brag, or a more New York State-centric Immortal Technique.

Those guys are all icons – that Decora deserves mention alongside them speaks to his fearlessness and political relevance, never mind the verbal pyrotechnics. In terms of pure lyrical skill, this guy’s technique reaches for the immortal: his genius is that he writes to keep the party going, but to keep you thinking nonstop. Lyrical insight aside, what was coolest about the show was Decora’s eight-piece live band: musical director and multi-keyboardist Neil Alexander; guitarist Dylan Doyle; six-string bassist Sam Smith; drummer Lee Falco; turntablists DJH20 and DJ Trumastr and a couple of backing vocalists.

Together they played Decora’s new album Beyond Belief all the way through, opening with an epic grey-sky ambience evoking classic 90s RZA productions, then switched to backdrops ranging from psychedelic Laurel Canyon boudoir soul, to grittily metallic funk lit up by Doyle’s tersely bluesy guitar, to New Orleans-flavored grooves carried by a tight two-piece horn section. Overhead, Decora’s rhymes ranged from rapidfire to sniper shots.

The opening number, Perfect Division, was a withering portrait of inequality, followed by the epic, disarmingly revealing Beyond My Doorstep, tracing the story of a guy facing the daily struggles of any minority in this country. Decora’s persona seems to be pretty much what he is, an unselfconsciously down-to-earth 99-percenter, eschewing gangsta cliches or prefab made-for-American-Idol shtick dumbed down for the element who would buy what they could download if they actually used their brains.

Decora riffed on fairweather friends in the cynical Changed Lanes and the perils of being a wannabe star in White Vans, but the best joint in this relentless set was What’s Up, a coldly logical assessment of the psychology that makes a white cop kill an innocent black victiim, tracing its historical roots back to Jim Crow and slavery. He followed that with another cynical, torrentially lyrical number, Confirmation.

They closed with an original hip-hop reimagining of the iconic Pete Seeger folk hit Where Have All the Flowers Gone and encored with a more urban anthem. After an hour onstage, the crowd – from the audience response, half deep Brooklyn, half upstate, many of them making the trip all the way down here on the bus – screamed for a second encore. The new album hasn’t made it to Decora’s Genius page yet, but you can bookmark it if lyrics are your thing: there’s plenty of inspiration there. Decora plays BSP Lounge, 323 Wall St. in Kingston on March 2 at 9 PM.

Nuclear Codes for the Game-Show Host

Mike Rimbaud recorded his grimly prophetic Going Down to Trumpistan – a free download – before last night’s election results.It’s sort of a mashup of early, classic Public Enemy and late 60s Carlos Santana. In his ominous baritone, the New York songwriter considers how

Journalists are the enemy
Torture is an art, seriously
Crowd control
No privacy
Going down, down, down to Trumpistan

He’s playing Otto’s this Saturday night at 11: it’ll be a party for our right to fight.

And for historical context, here’s Gil Scott-Heron’s similarly prophetic 1976 requiem, Winter in America.

Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Just like the cities that stagger on the coastline
And a nation that can’t stand much more
It’s Winter in America
All of the heroes have been killed, sent away
It’s Winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to say

Funk Pterodactyl Air Out Their Trippy, Danceable New Album at One of Brooklyn’s Best Outdoor Concert Series

There’s an awesome free monthly concert series this summer at the People’s Garden at the corner of Broadway and Greene in Bushwick, run by the folks behind deliciously slinky psychedelic cumbia band Consumata Sonidera. This month’s installment kicks off at around 3 or so this Saturday afternoon, July 23 and features both salsa dura band Grupo Descarrilao and the psychedelically cinematic Funk Pterodactyl. It’s not clear who’s playing first, but both bands are good.The closest train is the J to Kosciusko St., there’ll be food trucks and delicious vegetarian tamales available, and all-you-can-drink keg beer for $10. What a party, right?

Funk Pterodactyl have a brand-new album, Heights, streaming at Bandcamp and available as a name-your-price download. The opening cut, Starlit, kicks off a distantly uneasy, airconditioned Mulholland Drive noir nocturne, the theme moving to the background with Wesley Maples’ sax airy and calm behind frontman/lyricist Yahzeed Divine’s positivity-charged rap. When the lyrics drop out, Maples keeps the enigmatic, misty ambience going. By contrast, Super Funky is true to its title, with a tightly wound, pouncing oldschool groove from Alejandro Chapa’s bass and Ian Barnet’s drums, Eitan Akman’s chicken-scratch guitar contrasting with Cale Hawkins’ bubbly keys.

Without Dreaming is a psychedelic blend of the first two tracks’ styles, with pillowy vocals from Sarah Mount – listen real close to the bassline and you’ll hear a classic Ian Dury party anthem. Yahzeed Divine’s rapidfire Raekwon-ish wordplay adds a devious element to Glowing Eyes, a mashup of twinkling boudoir soul and straight-up, no-nonsense funk. As far as the final cut, Icarus, you know what that one’s about, right? The band builds it artfully, slowly shifting out of a simple, atmospheric, trickily rhythmic theme and then back, a soft landing for a high flyer. There will be plenty of highs like that at Saturday’s show in the park. 

Tattoo Money Brings His LMFAO Act to Bed-Stuy While the Bright Smoke Haunt the LES

Tattoo Money is one of the funniest acts in New York. And he’s as talented as he is funny, a one-man band equally adept at Chicago blues, psychedelic funk, oldschool soul and hip-hop. He’s like the missing link between Stevie Wonder, Buddy Guy and Rudy Ray Moore. This blog discovered him by accident, basically, late one night last December, when he headlined the Mercury Lounge after a harrowing set by art-rockers the Bright Smoke. It was after midnight, on a work night, but a friend was persuasive: “You should stick around for this guy, he’s hilarious.” No joke.

What Tattoo Money plays is loopmusic, more or less, which requires split-second timing and is even harder to pull off when you’re hitting the audience with one side-splitting one-liner after another. The multi-instrumentalist really worked up a sweat shifting from his guitar, to an electric piano, to his huge array of loop pedals and a mixing board, evoking sounds as diverse as vintage P-Funk, Isaac Hayes at his trippiest, or Fitty in a together, lucid moment (that last one is a bit of a stretch, but just imagine…).

Tattoo Money’s shtick is that he lays down a riff, or a vamp, or a beat, then sings over it, firing off some of the most amusing, sometimes X-rated between-song banter of any artist in town. Most of it has to do with the battle of the sexes. Midway through his set, he let down his guard. “When it comes down to it, what my songs are about is being single in New York, and waking up the next day, and thinking, I did WHAT last night?” he mused. And he kept the crowd in the house, no small achievement on a cold December night when the trains were a mess like they always are and everybody just wanted to get home.  His next gig is at the Way Station on July 8 at 10, followed at 11 by hotshot bassist Dawn Drake and Zapote playing their original high-energy, latin and Indian-tinged funk sounds. If there’s anybody who can get the yakking crowd at the bar at that place to pipe down and listen, it’s this guy.

The Bright Smoke are at the small room at the Rockwood on July 28 at 7 PM as a warmup for their upcoming national tour. A year ago, the group was a haphazardly haunting vehicle for frontwoman/guitarist Mia Wilson’s grimly sardonic, enigmatic narratives about hanging on by one’s fingernails, emotionally and otherwise. Watching them make the transformation into an incredibly tight, dynamic rock band, without compromising the blend of deep, otherworldy blues and enveloping, misterioso, psychedelic atmospherics that made them so captivating in the first place, has been inspiring, to say the least. They might be the best band in New York right now.

Wilson’s elegantly fingerpicked, reverberating guitar spirals built a ominous grey-sky ambience for guitarist Quincy Ledbetter to shoot thunderbolts from. As usual, he kept his solos short, other than one, long, crescendoing trail of sparks that brought one of the set’s later number to a volcanic peak. Drummer Karl Thomas had the challenge of playing in sync with the raindroplets emanating from Yuki Maekawa Ledbetter’s laptop, but with his clustering, unpredictable, jazz-inspired attack, he was as much colorist as timekeeper.

And Wilson has never been so much of a force out in front of the band, holding her ground like a female version of a young, pre-epilepsy Ian Curtis through the crushingly cynical lines of On 10, the bitter gentrification-era allusions of Hard Pander (does the current climate of conspicuous consumption overkill make us all whores?), and a starkly stinging, plaintive new minor-key ballad. They closed with a witheringly intense take of an older song from Wilson’s days fronting another first-class dark art-rock act, the French Exit, the bandleader leaving her feet as the song exploded in a boom of low register sonics at the end, rocking back and forth on her knees and channeling what seemed like a lifetime of pain. And injuring herself in the process (not to worry, she was pretty much ok after the show).

Or maybe that last observation is just projecting, from an audience point of view. Go and decide for yourself: if you have the guts to try it, you can get much closer to the band at the Rockwood than you can at the Mercury.

A Historic Marathon Weekend at Martin Bisi’s Legendary BC Studio

While booking agents clustered around the East Village at several marathon multiple-band bills this past weekend, another far more historic marathon was going on in a Gowanus basement. As chronicled in the documentary film Sound and Chaos: The Story of BC Studio, Martin Bisi has been recording and producing some of New York’s – and the world’s – edgiest music in that space for the past thirty-five years. A couple of years ago, a dreaded upmarket food emporium moved in, sounding an ominous alarm bell. Like a smaller-scale Walmart, when that chain shows up, the neighborhood is usually finished. And with rents skyrocketing and long-tenured building owners unable to resist the lure of piles of global capital, what’s left of the Gowanus artistic community is on life support.

BC Studio’s lease runs out next year. The historic space is where Bisi earned a Grammy for his work on Herbie Hancock’s single Rockit, where Sonic Youth, the Dresden Dolls and innumerable other defiantly individualistic bands made records, and where a sizeable percentage of the foundation of hip-hop was born. If there’s any artistic space in Brooklyn that deserves to be landmarked, this is it.

This past weekend, to celebrate BC Studio’s 35th anniversary, the producer invited in several of the most noteworthy acts who’ve recorded over the years, to collaborate and record material for a celebratory anthology. Both a Sonic Youth (Bob Bert) and a Dresden Doll (Brian Vigliione) did and lent their eclectic pummel behind the drumkit to several of the acts. It was a quasi-private event: media was invited (look for Beverly Bryan‘s insightful upcoming piece at Remezcla). Bisi also spilled the beans and invited the crowd at his Williamsburg gig this past week, and from the looks of it, some of that younger contingent showed up to see some of the more memorable acts who’ve pushed the envelope, hard, over parts of the last four decades there. It wasn’t a concert in the usual sense of the word, but it was a rare chance for an adventurous crowd beyond Bisi’s own vast address book to watch him in action. And while he’d fretted out loud about keeping everything on schedule, that hardly became an issue, no surprise since he knows the room inside out. The most time-consuming activity other than the recording itself was figuring out who needed monitors, and where to put them.

Historically speaking, the most noteworthy event of the entire weekend was the reunion of Live Skull, who were essentially a harder-edged counterpart to Sonic Youth back in the 80s. One of their guitarists, Tom Paine couldn’t make it, but his fellow guitarist Mark C, bassist Marnie Greenholz Jaffe and drummer Rich Hutchins made their first public performance together since 1988, in this very same space. Methodically, through a series of takes, they shook off the rust, the guitar lingering uneasily and then growling over the band’s signature anthemic postupunk stomp. Watching Greenholz Jaffe play a Fender with frets was a trip: in the band’s heyday, she got her signature swooping sound as one of very few rock players to use a fretless model. In a stroke of considerable irony, Mark C’s use of a synth in lieu of guitar on one number gave the band a new wave tinge very conspicuously absent from their influential mid-80s catalog. Both four- and six-string players sang; neither has lost any edge over the years. Greenholz Jaffe ended their last number by playing an ominous quote from Joy Division’s New Dawn Fades, arguably the weekend’s most cruelly apt riff.

Of the newer acts, the most striking was guitarist Adja the Turkish Queen, who splits her time between her more-or-less solo mashup of folk noir and the Middle East, and ferociously noisy, darkly psychedelic band Black Fortress of Opium. This time, she treated the crowd to an absolutely chilling, allusive trio of jangly, reverb-drenched Lynchian numbers: a brooding oldschool soul ballad, an opaquely minimalist theme that could have passed for Scout, and a towering art-rock anthem. Botanica’s Paul Wallfisch supplied a river of gospel organ, elegant piano and then turned his roto to redline on the last number, channeling Steve Nieve to max out its relentless menace.

Dan Kaufman and John Bollinger of Barbez – who have a long-awaited, Middle East conflict-themed new album due out this spring – were first in line Saturday morning. Bollinger switched effortlessly between drums, lingering vibraphone and a passage where he played elegantly soaring bass while Kaufman jangled and then soared himself, using a slide and a keening sustain pedal. Togther they romped through apprehensively scrambling postrock, allusively klezmer-tinged passages and elegaic, bell-toned cinematics.

Susu guitarist Andrea Havis and drummer Oliver Rivera Drew (who made a tight rhythm section with baritone guitarist Diego Ferri, both of whom play in Bisi’s European touring band) backed Arrow’s soaring frontwman Jeannie Fry through a swirl of post-MBV maelstrom sonics and wary, moodily crescendoing postpunk jangle. In perhaps the weekend’s best-attended set, Algis Kisys of Swans jousted with ex-Cop Shoot Cop bassist Jack Natz and drummer Jim Coleman for a ferocious blast through a hornet’s nest of needle-pinning fuzztones and boomoing low-register chords, followed by a gorgeously contrasting ambient soundscape by Dave W and Ego Sensation of White Hills. It was the weekend’s lone moment that looked back to Brian Eno, who put up the seed money to build the studio.

There were also a couple of performances that echoed the studio’s formative role as hip-hop crucible. The first was when Tidal Channel frontman Billy Cancel channeled the inchoate anger of the Ex’s G.W. Sok over Genevieve Kammel Morris’ electroacoustic keyboard mix. The second was former Luminescent Orchestrii frontman Sxip Shirey‘s New Orleans second line rap over the virtuosic fuzztone bass of Don Godwin, better known as the funkiest tuba player in all of Balkan music. Wallfisch was another guy who supplied unexpectedly explosive basslines when he wasn’t playing keys.

The rest of the material ranged from industrial, to cinematic (JG Thirlwell’s collaboration with Insect Ark frontwoman/composer Dana Schechter, bolstered by a full string section and choir), punk (Michael Bazini’s wry gutter blues remake of an old Louvin Brothers Nashville gothic song) and to wind up the Sunday portion, an unexpectedly haunting, epic minor-key jam eventually led by Bisi himself, doing double duty on lead guitar and mixer.

Music continued throughout the afternoon and into Sunday night after this blog had to switch gears and move on to another marathon: the festivities included Bert backing Parlor Walls guitarist Alyse Lamb, an Alice Donut reunion of sorts and a set by Cinema Cinema. As much a fiasco as Globalfest turned out to be that night, the wiser option would have been to stay put and make an entire weekend out of it. As Kammel Morris put it, Bisi should host a slumber party next year.

Singles for 10/26

Here’s Labba doing Nice to Meet Ya featuring Illa Ghee and B Rutland – heavy-lidded, blunted ODB-inspired deep Brooklyn hip-hop. Nice vintage Ralph McDaniels-style video too (youtube).

Speaking of cool footage, here’s some from Coney Island now – for future archives, when the coastline is all deserted luxury condos turned into crackhouses – via Lorraine Leckie’s bittersweet Happy City video. She’s got a release show for her new album coming up at the Mercury on Nov 13 at 8; Nashville gothic singer Kelley Swindall opens the night at 7.

And another Canadian crew, the Rural Alberta Advantage bring to mind the Jayhawks circa Sound of Lies with Terrified (soundcloud).