Cool Blog No. 1

Originally posted @ Consume Media

Those who watched MGMT play at the Tabernacle last Sunday night witnessed a band that has finally come into its own. They are at home with their sound. At home with their place in the musical world, each piece of the band finely, precisely settling around singer, guitarist Andrew VanWyngarden and synth czar, Ben Goldwasser. After just releasing their third, self-titled album, MGMT has become a band aware of their limitations, their strengths and their reach. Knowing when to please the crowd with chart toppers like “Electric Feel”. Knowing when to sprinkle in deep tracks like the twelve-minute opus of “Siberian Breaks”. All holding down the attention of the starkly different fan base that ranges from high school dance fiends to psychedelic beatniks.

This international tour seems to have completed the band in more ways than one. Their last two records showed a massive departure from their 2007 breakout, Oracular Spectacular, a split that sort of estranged them from their electro-pop duo reputation. 2011’s Congratulations even had a marked cynicism toward that label and what was beginning to feel like reluctant success. But this year’s release, MGMT, shows a maturity, a unified progression. It is a concrete step forward into a sound that allows an embracing of the old, as well as a deconstruction of the past, and a comfort found only in a future of recognition and self-fulfillment.

And this show, this tour, was a manifestation of that. Tourmates, Kuroma, originally the solo effort of friend and collaborator Hank Sullivant, is a big part of that. About half of it to be exact. Sullivant, along with Will Berman and James Richardson make up the bulk of both Kuroma and MGMT. Richardson opens the night on bass, swapping to guitar for the headliner, and Berman stays on drums for both sets, but Sullivant is the real missing piece. He completes the full chemistry of MGMT, fleshed out since their early Memphis beginnings by filling out the vocal melodies and rounding out the guitar parts to recreate the studio sheen that makes the group such a shining example of psych/dream-pop.

                             Kuroma (L to R: Simon O'Connor, Hank Sullivant, James Richardson, Will Berman)

The band has garnered a crowd, a following that loves them for a sound they’ve defined. They’ve been comfortable in the studio since day one, but line-up changes and fast-growing, turbulent hype, seemed to jar their live shows in the past. This performance at the Tabernacle was something new. It was confidence beyond their years. It was a strength found by surrounding themselves with songs and people in which they believed. There was no rejection of the premature hits of “Kids” and “Time to Pretend”. Early deeps cuts like “Weekend Wars”, “Pieces of What” and “Of Birds, Moons and Monsters” were re-explored. “Dan Treacy” and “Flash Delirium” were flawlessly executed, and new songs “Your Life is a Lie” (with special fan appearance) “Cool Song No. 2” and “Alien Days” showed up as the band finished up the set. They worked from material from three absolutely distinct albums, three different eras and mindsets, and managed to sound like a cohesive, moving force. It was inspiring to watch.

A veritable sea of cell phone videographers emerges to capture "Electric Feel". 

Ironically, it prohibited most from actually dancing to the song.  

It’s almost always too early to speculate as to what will remain a classic. But there’s no doubt that MGMT is a defining band in this generation of music. This is the type of band that grows by creating a community of artists and fans, firmly rooting it in the audio aesthetic of the era, extending its influence as a source, and resurrecting a recurrent sound while dodging the spoiled nature of over-exposed pop. Whatever the group creates next will follow in that path. MGMT seems to be a band of conviction. But this tour and this lineup represent a definite high in the both their and Kuroma’s careers.

Be on the lookout for Kuroma’s next studio album, Kuromarama. And be sure to grab a copy of MGMT at your local record store.

Jonny Fritz. Gentleman, Craftsman, Showman.

Going to see Mr. Fritz perform live is like stepping into a space/time continuum of undiluted songwriting and soulful country twang. It can even transport you past the awkward, shuffling, Converse, plaid mass that tried more than once to interject into some of his freeform vocal performances with an unwanted clapping rhythm.

"Stop that," he spoke in a stanza break.

Clap....Clap.......Clap..Clap...clap...

"Please. Stop it." He broke out in a grin.


The crowd laughs and is still. I don't think they know whether or not to take the man seriously. One moment he's singing about the doggone trash. And with the next verse, his words cause a heart-racing silence through the club. That's when you realize that Fritz has much more to him than meets the eye.

The EARL was his final show on a stint with Langhorne Slim, supporting his fantastically dark Dad Country. That perpetual grin is only partially covered by a half-grown beard. His slogan could be "Smart-Ass Lyrics with a Smile". He's wearing a magnificently embroidered cardigan, hiding, I would later find out, an even more magnificently embroidered denim shirt baring the likeness of his right-hand fiddleman, Josh Hedley. If his guitar didn't have "Jonny Corndawg" written in pearl down the fretboard, I'd think he stole it. His father actually made it.

But that's Jonny. Rough n' tumble, every-tattoo-tells-a-story-and-I-got-some-good-stories kinda country. These aren't tall tales, though. They weren't bought. Dad Country deals with some shit. Real shit. Stinky shit. The songs are frank. They're a glimpse into Fritz's life, both on the road and at home. Women come and go and some are missed more than others. God and hope are found and lost.

The album is great, don't get me wrong. I have the glow-in-the-dark vinyl on my turntable to prove my love. But when you strip away the production, layered harmonies, drums, bass and pedal steel, you get to see uniquely crafted duo bang out some one of a kind performances. The lit snob in me wants to call it poetry. And it's not just the lyrics. The words are powerful, but the delivery is the followthrough. It can knock you out if you let it.

Offstage, Fritz is probably one of the nicest dudes you'll ever care to meet. My girlfriend...let's call her "Holly"...tried to buy one of his guitar straps for my last birthday. He had just signed to ATO and was a bout to start the tour. He couldn't do it then, but he wrote her a friendly email apologetically declining. He remembered her when we approached him after his set. I was drunk and wanted to tell him how much I appreciated him carrying the torch of Waylon, Merle and Billy Joe. I ended up telling him how much I liked his sweater. He showed us the stitching of Josh's face on his back.

"Idn't that cool?"

He bought us a drink. We talked for a good minute. I bought a copy of the vinyl.

"Make sure they get the gift bag," he said to the lady behind the merch table. Turning to Holly, "We got these great gift bags made up for the tour.

"And make sure they get the glow-in-the dark one. And the oatmeal pie. Do you guys want a poster?"

Of course we do.

No, no, Jonny. Thank You a lot.