The highly touted boys from Brighton are back with their sophomore release, Konk, that hit stores earlier this week, but some are questioning whether the pre-release hype matches the merit. The Kook’s debut release Inside In/Inside Out was exceedingly well received, but reviews for Konk have been mixed. Betty Clarke of The Guardian gave the record 4 out 5 stars saying, “The woolliness of their debut has been replaced with a determined pop sound that dips into hard-edged rock,” but New Music Express was less than optimistic, and rather disappointed:

“What’s clear is that they’ve lost the songwriterly knack they originally wielded with abandon and replaced it with clichés and a foggy palimpsest of what they once had. We recommend they search high and low for that spark of brightness in time for album three.” NME.com

I haven’t picked up the record yet, but if the single is any indication it looks like I’m in store for a watered down version of Inside In/Inside Out. To be honest, when I first heard “Always Where I Need To Be” I thought I was still listening to The Kooks first album. Check out thise video below and decide for yourself.

The Kooks- “Always Where I Need To Be”

As previously mentioned, Sub Pop has been planning a little party for their 20th anniversary. Rumors circulate, but now, Sub Pop has made an official announcement. From their press release:

In unabashedly conspicuous celebration of 20 years of not going out of business (sometimes only barely), Seattle’s Sub Pop Records will gather past and present label-mates for a series of events, including a two-day festival at Marymoor Park on July 12 & 13 and a comedy show on July 11 at Seattle’s Moore Theatre. Proceeds from the sale of tickets will go to support beneficiaries of each participating act’s choosing. Tickets go on sale April 26 at 12 PM Pacific at SubPop.com and all Ticketmaster locations.

Confirmed performers include Iron & Wine, Kiwi comedy/rock duo Flight of the Conchords and influential grunge band Green River will make a reunion. Performers for the comedy show include Patton Oswalt, Eugene Mirman, Todd Barry and surprise guests. Sub Pop promises more performer announcements in the coming months as well as special guests.

Tickets go on sale and noon Pacific, April 26th at Subpop.com, Ticketmaster.com or by calling (206) 628-0888. And they’re not even that expensive. Early discount tickets will cost $30 for a one-day pass, $50 for two days; prices will increase to $35 and $60 respectively after May 10th. Comedy show tickets are $20 and available starting the same day and via the same venues. A full list of confirmed bands performing after the jump.
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This is a bit atypical of the bands that we generally choose for Synthesis Band of the Day. No horn-rimmed glasses, waifish broads with ugly indie-rock haircuts, ‘roid-bicep hardcore meatheads, striped sweater wussies or epic Dungeons & Dragons progressive metalheads. No, Phredley brings the funk-rock.

In my fledgling college days, back when tie-dye wasn’t as vomitous and my roommate’s constant Phish-Grateful Dead-Phish musical rotation didn’t drive me completely bonkers, I would have broken my left leg to check out a band like Phredley. Now bad photoshop effects kinda irk me, patchouli oil makes me want to hurl and hippie funk in general just pisses me off. But not Phredley. They’s alright.

Based around a brother-sister duo (Phred Brown on Vocals, Guitar & Horns; Alesha Brown on Keys & Vocals) and a rhythm section (Paul Loos, Drums & Vocals; Samuel Tobias Winn, Bass & Vocals) Phredley lays down funk that is far closer to the heart of nearby Detroit than that of longhair revivalists in Colorado or Vermont. And when they stray toward the pop side of the spectrum, it comes across more as radio-friendly than looking for a parking lot miracle. More importantly (for me at least), their lyrics hold water. With the aforementioned hippie-funk enthusiasts, it’s most often the lyrics that drive me to enraged hysterics; Phredley uses some clever (or nearly clever) turns of phrase. No, Phred’s not Leonard Cohen by any means, but in a sometimes poppy, sometimes rocky funk quartet, it works. Their track “The Truth About Capricorns” also has some pretty, Beatelesque, tonally complex passages. If you’re a big fan of Ben Harper/Jack Johnson/Maroon 5, or your ’70s R&B records don’t have much dust on them, do yourself a favor and look into Phredley.

Okay, kudos to Sneak Attack Media on the email pitch I received the other day. I have NO idea what it’s for, and if it sucks that PR company will be the recipient of a manila envelope with headshot and glitter stars, ala Tobias Funke. But here goes:

“On April 15th there’s going to be a pretty huge announcement in LA, that seriously affects the rock world. Please check out the link below.

http://newmedia.10thst.com/teaser/teaser_rockvine.mov

On April 15, there will be a huge announcement in rock. It will take place in LA and you can win a chance to hear the news first-hand. Check out this video for clues and if you think you know what’s up, enter your guesses at THEROCKVINE.COM for a chance to win.”

Okay, I’ll bite. I’m guessing it’s the announcement of some supposed badass supergroup, or maybe a rock reunion of some sort. I’m hoping dyed long hair and piles cocaine will be involved, though. Sneak Attack Media, your move…

Man oh man, the Death Set puts on a show. Damn. Watch Baltimore’s The Death Set DESTROY a Jackson Five tune before launching into their own stuff, bringing half the audience on stage with them. Totally. We caught this at SXSW on Wednesday afternoon. What a way o start a week of debauchery!

Not having a camera during a music festival can be a real drag. I made the best of what I had by utilizing my previously unused camera phone, but I’ve been a walking disaster since last week, and today I managed to break my cell phone as well. I fully expect to break my guitar at my gig tomorrow. Over my own head. Tired…still so incredibly tired….

SXSW is different for all types of attendees, and after attending as a music journalist for the last three, I really am looking forward to being a spectator or band member next year. While ‘08 was my best South By Southwest music festival yet, it was also been a draining one. Interview after interview, broken up by meeting with publicists and filming shows, it feels like I hardly saw any music; Incredible, given the 1,800 bands and 70 venues that buzzed and clattered as I made my way to the next assignment. I think i saw 5 bands total that I was not actually working on in some way.

That’s why on Saturday night, I cut loose loosey-goosey. Bonkers mad drunk. I managed to worm myself and Brit Unicorn past the lines to catch Two Gallants and a bit of Tokyo Police Club (where double Stoli Redbulls were $8, $14 and $12 depending on which bartender you wound up with) before heading to the Promised Land where American Spirit Cigarettes were being given away two packs at at time and free vodka flowed like the whores out of a crumbling Babylon.

I am a people person, and instead of badge-snooping for Spin hotshots and BBC personalities who I heard were in the herd, i ended up doing what I do every SXSW: finding a group of Austinites and shooting the shit about music while getting pissed. I remember Colin having a sweet handlebar moustache, some girl with a big booty named Ann freaking me, and encouraging some random dude to sign his name on my arm, all while spouting Bill Hicks quotes and being affable drunk Spencer.

Then I noticed Sweden’s Soundtrack of Our Lives setting up. It would prove to be the most epic set I had witnessed at SXSW, if not ever. Okay, so my cameraphone is less than ideal, but I did get a few snaps as I was right up front, thighs against the stage.

Pretty much stationed right underneath Ebbot Lundberg’s impressive rock tummy. Restrainign myself from reaching up and patting it.

I felt the show so hard, hanging on Ian Person’s unbelievable rock moves. Inspirational. He’s got moves like my dog’s got fleas. How is it that Scandinavian rock bands know how to rock about 100 times harder than most American and British rock bands? I was awestruck with TSOOL’s set, a heady brew of psychedelic trippiness and kick-out-the-jams face melting. Honestly, I’d seen the band at Curiosa from about 50 yards back, but being right up front was way more than 50 yards better. Don’t do the math.

My video camera was on the fritz. My digital camera was broken. My brain was scrambled and my hands were in the air, making continuous rock gestures. I spilled drinks on the leather jacket-clad rockers behind me. I grabbed random drinks off stage when mine was empty. The rock took over and I became my alter ego. Before I knew it, Buck Knuckle leaned over to Synthesis editor James Barone and said something like “I think this is their last song,” before grabbing the monitors and hoisting myself onstage, making a mad dash for the free tambourine over by Fredrik Sandsten’s drum kit. I smacked that damn instrument for all its worth, and when the song was over I escaped into the VIP section to retrieve another drink, getting nods of approval from, well, the VIPs I suppose. I doubt I was nonchalant about it. One guy did say something about ‘thanks for runing the show,’ but envy-green wasn’t a good color for him. “Mmmm, how witty, you must be a writer for Spin, mmmmm…” I condescended back.

The Soundtrack of Our Lives set was then over, but the band decided on an encore and made their way back out on stage, with Ian and Martin beginning the song in a soft manner. (For the record, I am not a TSOOL expert, so I have no idea about track names and was too drunk to find out or care. I just know that I felt the rock like never before.) As Frederik began clicking his sticks to a Latin-flavored rhythm, I had to get back on stage, knowing full well I was pressing my luck.

But I had plenty of luck to be pressed. I sauntered back on stage and grabbed the free tambourine again, making eye contact with their mildly concerned drummer. It wasn’t the easiest rhythm, so he began mouthing me the hits. I followed him, and once I had it down Frederik pushed the overhead mic over to me to play into. From then it was on. My hand was so bruised because, well, drunken tambourine players show no mercy. I shook that thing in the way you should NEVER shake a baby. I was throwing high kicks in there, earning a shit-eating grin from the Townsend-dressed Mattias Bärjed who i was situated behind.

I don’t think I was too off, either. Of course, given my state I can’t be certain. All I know is that for two songs I was a member of The Soundtrack of Our Lives for the closing set of SXSW 2008, and it felt perfect.

Of course by then Ryan, who got great shots of the band earlier in the set, had taken off. So I have no photo evidence of my moment in the sun. If anyone was there at the Soundtrack of Our Lives Saturday late night Spin/American Spirit party and got photos of the band with that random long-haired dude who decided to jump up on stage and play tambourine, please, PLEASE send them to:

gorgeousarmadapresents (at) gmail [d0t] com
myspace.com/gorgeousarmada

I’m trying to find new ways to both stoke out my bandmates and make my mother feel mortified. Thank you.