BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #81: The Trapeze Singer by Iron and Wine

CLASSIC BEARDS OF THE DECADE

Sam Beam's beard AKA "The Intellectual"

Sure, he may have been a college professor before embarking on a career in beard-folk.  But I imagine Sam Beam's teaching style as similar to that of Donald Sutherland in Animal House, or Gruber in Freaks and Geeks.  Does this look like a man who's organized a campus protest or two?  Of course he has.  While audience requests between songs are a concert staple, I once witnessed first hand a concert-goer yell out "What are you reading?" to Beam, proving that beards can serve as nerd magnets.

Fleet Foxes beards AKA"The hirsute harmonies"

Let's face facts, at this point, the question on everyone's (AKA "my") mind is this.  What is the deal with the clean-shaven Fleet Fox?  Is he not allowed to grow a beard?  It seems as if he's the only one not allowed to sing, so perhaps it's a package deal, but either way, I haven't been this interested in someone's facial growth since I was a child, baffled over the "other guy" in ZZ Top.

Devendra Banhart's beard AKA "The patchouli shampoo"

He helps kid develop their coloring skills, and somehow looks even creepier when he's clean shaven.  His beard and musical output have followed similar trajectories, peaking in terms of quality in the middle of the decade, and gradually impressing less with each year since.

Kyp Malone's beard AKA "Beard Science"

Stephen Colbert has made no secret of his tenacious drive to ask the hard-hitting questions.  But no question delighted me more than when he interviewed TV on the Radio and asked if he could stroke Kyp Malone's beard.  When given the go ahead, Colbert declared the experience to be "like a vacation in a far away forest."  A forest packed with werewolves, I'm guessing.

Jookabox beards AKA "The shirtless wonders"

This Asthmatic Kitty write-up of the new Jookabox album is outstanding.  I had no idea, but it seems "the east side of Indianapolis in the 90s, [was] an area plagued by constant recession, pandemic homicide, and racial tension. A few strong tribes chose to stay in the area despite constant warnings from fleeing acquaintances."  Holy shit!  To think that I spent my childhood going to the Roller Cave without ever declaring my allegiance to 2-1 or the Hellraisers!  I'm luckily to be alive.

When I was in high school, I remember N.A.P. making similar claims about the war zone of 21st and Post.  I was highly skeptical at the time, but in hindsight perhaps I owe them an apology.  Could it be that niggas truly weren't playin'? 

(In all honesty, whoever is doing P.R. for Asthmatic Kitty deserves a raise.)

Will Oldham's beard AKA "Bonnie 'Prince' Beardy"

Is it the beard that makes his face look so bizarre?  Or is it the other way around?

Mark Everett's beard AKA "B"

EELS - "That Look You Give That Guy"
by Cooperative-Music
What a letdown.  You spend all day getting every detail of your beard, and the night in general, perfect.  You avoid a potential milk mishap while Padma is enchanted with your globe and collection of leather-bound books.   Just when things are at their peak, your damn dog throws on a tux and a top hat, and suddenly the dream with Padma comes crashing down right before your eyes.  We've all been there, but that doesn't make it any easier.  Learn the code, dog!  

Dan Auerbach's beard AKA "The hockey playoffs"

It's hard to believe, but this photo is NOT a mug shot.

Doug Martsch's beard AKA "The elder statesmen"

He's the unstoppable force.  Year after year Built to Spill force people who hate jam bands to ask themselves, "Are these guys a jam band?"  The albums say "No!" but the beard says "Of course!  What kind a stupid question is that!  Are you even seeing this beard!" The live show comes down somewhere in the middle. 

?uestlove's beard AKA "The second fiddle"

It's the most underrated beard in music, due primarily to the attention-grabbing due on top of his head.  If his afro is Kid A, then the beard is Amnesiac, lost in the shuffle of what precedes it, but a classic when judged on it's own merits.  

But I'm primarily putting this photo up to ask a crucial question.  What is the deal with Japanese kids and their widespread obsession with the peace sign?  Is there a logical reason behind it?  Is it some type of motor-skill developed through mind control of all Japanese infants?  I mean look at these kids! Perhaps Ross MacLochness can offer an explanation from his time in the Orient.  Needless to say, all those peace signs make me think there's some sort of plotting going on.

BIBJ Playlist of the 2000s entry #11: White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes

Ah, stop motion.  It's retro chic in Fleet Foxes videos or when Wes Anderson is making movies, but where was all the trendy buzz in the heyday of the California Raisins?

This video teaches an important life lesson.  We've all at one time or another developed a a magical spinning crank for the purpose of spinning time backwards, thus reverting our physical appearance to that of fifty years in the past.  But when doing so, KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE DAMN WHEEL or you'll ruin everything and end up once again a beardy old man living in the forest.

The more you know.

Bad Idea Show Review: Fleet Foxes at Metro

photo via Flickr

Last year's Lollapalooza was basically perfect, lineup-wise as well as weather-wise. This year's lineup left me wholeheartedly underwhlemed, so instead of dealing with Friday's rain and the sweltering humidity of Saturday and Sunday, I opted for two shows at the Metro instead: The Decemberists on Thursday and Fleet Foxes on Saturday. As the Indy Decemberists review below points out, they're swinging for the fences these days (and they opened with the 18-minute epic The Tain on Thursday.) Also, I would like to publicly petition that the "Diamond" duo vocalists be present as much as possible, and perhaps turn this band into America's supergroup answer to the New Pornographers.

But on to Saturday night. We walked in just before 11pm as openers Dungen were taking the stage. Dungen are from Sweden, and as such, all their lyrics are sung in Swedish. This makes for an enjoyable time of guessing what their lyrics are about. I'm guessing most revolve around fun bike rides, or any activity related to fjords. But then again, they could just as likely be anti-semitic screeds. Who knows? They vacillated between airy pop melodies and full-blown psychedlia, and I believe they are the first rock band I've ever seen incorporate the flute so heavily.

It should be pointed out that the Metro felt like a damn oven Saturday night. The fans were on, but made no difference. The air was humid, stagnant, and unrelenting, leaving all in attendance sweltering to a particularly uncomfortable degree. By the time Fleet Foxes took the stage a bit after midnight, My clothes felt at least five pounds heavier. One could easily surmise that if I was that sweaty, it had to be much worse for the flannel-clad, hirsute band on stage.

Robin Pecknold has apparently been quite sick with a nasty fever lately, and mentioned a couple songs into the set that he had been ingesting an Advil/Dayquil cocktail that he discouraged anyone else from attempting. Despite the fact that he looked like a man constantly on the verge of passing out, he never removed his flannel shirt. That's dedication to the image my friend.

Fortunately the fever had no bearing whatsoever on the vocals, which of course is the staple of the band's short, but quickly growing, legend. The four-parts soared through the set without ever hitting a stray note. The crowd that started off subdued at the beginning of the set got progressively louder in sing-a-longs throughout the set, feeding off the energy of the bearded harmonizers sweating their asses off while belting through an 80-minute set. I don't have the setlist, but suffice it to say they played everything you would want to hear from their album and EP, as well as a couple excellent-sounding new songs.

Last year's Fleet Foxes set at Pitchfork impressed in respect to their ability to match the pristine performance created in the studio. But the band's growth from last year to this one cannot be ignored. The performances sound fuller, with an energy and confidence that goes above and beyond what they've laid down on tape. The vocals are belted out with more passion and they're that much more engaging as a result. The natural assumption would be that a year on the road had simply given them the confidence to take chances and experiment with a solid foundation. But I attribute it to Robin Pecknold completely abandoning the whole "sitting down on stage" act. Technicians can sit, but rock stars have to stand. Even when the potential for heat stroke is staring them in the face.