Live at Edgefield! More to come...

So... I just went to see The Decemberists play a show at Edgefield in Troutdale (near Portland). It was incredible! My wonderful girlfriend bought us tickets months ago, and refused to tell me until last week. Suffice to say I was a bit curious what strange event she had planned for me. Anyway, this post is just to tell you that a review of the live performance is on its way, and that I am simply too worn out to write it now. Man, I don't think my body is going to function tomorrow, due to all of the screaming and jumping around (yeah, it was pretty sweet). So, thanks again for being here, and I'll see you again very soon, dear reader.

My first review!! The Builders and the Butchers

OOH, my first post ever on the inter-webs. It’s short, I know. Consider it good practice, and enjoy!


Artist: The Builders and The Butchers
Album: The Builders and The Butchers
Location: Portland Locals (available at bars and house parties only!)

Here lies a super-dense record, not for the faint of ear.

The first track, The Night Part 1, plays like a Native American chant. It begins with light but frantic drumming, and quickly graduates to the simple yet effective combination of a snare and high hat. This duo essentially carries the entire weight of the song on its spare and bony shoulders. It sounds like the very heart of an altered state, complete with tribal drums and revelations that feel very important at the time, but that only confuse you in the morning. The lead singer’s voice brings to mind the very early days of Bob Dylan, as well as such modern favorites as Billy Talent. His reedy tenor is definitely grating, easily quashing any hopes of an easy listening experience. This is certainly not background music. Even so, the album intrigues from the very beginning.

As a direct result of the band’s grittiness, their deeper and more intimate qualities are far too easy to miss. This becomes apparent around the middle of track 2, Red Hands. This track carries strong country overtones, with a nod to the porch-sitting, banjo-playing, tobacco-chewing types that I only know from films I rarely watch. Despite my obvious judgments about the instrumentals involved, the vocals here are wonderfully descriptive. The implications of taking a man’s life are, I discover, worth singing about. Unfortunately, the real story behind this cautionary tale is never revealed, and the humanness that seems so available at first is lost.

As I delve further into The Builders and The Butchers, I admit that I find myself a little disappointed. Their overall composition seems, initially, akin to that of The Decemberists, with their seemingly magical ability to sing an intimate and powerful ballad in under five minutes. However, The Builders do not travel so far into the realm of thought and emotion. Instead, they merely skim the surface, accurately describing what happens to their subjects, but neglecting to explain why or how. As a result, the tracks catch my attention, and then let it go before the band gets halfway through a song. I will continue to work with it, and see if I can’t squeeze some sweeter juice out of this lemon on the edge.

Thank you for stopping by, dear reader.

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