Mixed Bag: Book of Lists, Les Georges Leningrad, and Papercuts

Firstly, a review of Papercuts and Grizzly Bear at the Plaza. Even though I got there at 8:30 Papercuts were already on, but Malcolm assured me they had just begun. A familiar jangly guitar drew me to the front of the stage as I searched myself for comparisons. Was it the west coast twang of Beachwood Sparks? The dreamy vocals remind me of Sean Wesley Wood, but the band is a bit more like the Skygreen Leopards. Is it the cold cathedral blues of Blackbright Morninglight? Then there is the AM classic sound of Kings of Convenience. Maybe I have to go back farther, which is admittedly where my music nerditude really lacks. Oh brother, who could it be? Ah yes, Lou Reed's rich guitar textures in the Velvet Underground.

Grizzly Bear, or as my girlfriend's mum called them, Grizzle Boys, lived up to the status I have assigned to them in my mind, that of genius. The sound guy was the guy from Richards, so that means awesome. If they were concerned about replicating the sounds of Yellow House, all doubts were eradicated within the first few seconds of Easier (they put the rad in eradicate). Chris Taylor had a little fort of pedals, a clarinet, a flute, a bird's feather, and a glass of white wine. They started off mellow, although as Dan Droste pointed out, they actually got gradually mellower as plumes of BC bud wafted on stage. Colorado was more like Tennessee, and On a Neck, On a Spit was entirely strange, as was the cover of The Crystals' dirge He Hit Me. Then it was over. Bam. No encore. Young Folks pumping on the club's sound system, awaiting a parade of wangsters.

So this company called Musebox keeps sending us these really random and obscure cds that nobody has ever heard of. Not even me. I know, crazy talk, right? I just assumed that if I didn't know the band that they were shite. But then BLAMMO, Sangue Puro by Les Georges Leningrad shows up in the pile and I jumped on it like a politician on climate change. Deerhoof guitars, Channels 3x4 girly yelps, Montreal oonce-oonce booty bang electro, and a dose of Dandi Wind weirdness; the album sees The Georges spastic goofery mature into a worthy experimental death disco unit. Sangue Puro maintains a healthy mixture of tribal, Ex-Models, dissonance and danceable ,Peaches, raunch rock.

I recently received another CD that will be released sometime in April I think from none other than Book of Lists front-man Chris Frey. The self titled disc opens in medias res, a story half way through, with Lost Weekend. Ride, Felt, and Jesus and Mary Chain comparisons are unavoidable, but the band also explores the other, mostly British sounds too. On Troy, Moz can be gleaned from the heavily distorted guitars and booze-rock bass, preceded by an almost Cult-like Moon Balloon. A little bit Bowie is everpresent, and on Little Jerk the riff is reminiscent of the Who, or later Madchester stalwarts the Stone Roses, but not as much as Name in the Wind, apparently only available on their Myspace page and curiously absent from this record. The standout is surely Journey East which culminates in a crescendo of distortion as Trevor Larsen's pedal-laden guitar drowns the ending in a sea of reverb. Their Myspace page says they're from New York, London, Berlin, and Vancouver, and it sounds that way, although there isn't much that sounds like Vancouver.