sonny

i like songs. i'm less into albums. i like digital music. i don't own a record player. you can see my "music writer cred" falling off a cliff to certain death. but i never had it to begin with. so, let if fall away with all the pretensions and encyclopedic knowledge of 90s shoegaze essentialism. i'm just a guy that likes some music. and one of the bands i'm particularly a fan of these days is sonny and the sunsets, a san francisco band led by the quirky sonny smith. (sonny is also a writer, by the way, with various plays and short stories to his credit. : )

i first heard 30 seconds of a sonny song on kalx's "the next big thing." i felt it immediately and when the dj mentioned an upcoming show, i made a blackberry note to go and see the show. i first saw sonny and his sunsets at the bottom of the hill in san francisco in january or february 2010 opening for two other bands. the bottom of the hill is a great venue with great sound, and sonny rocked. he has this beautiful, twangy, old-school guitar. it looks a little bit acoustic country, but it plays electric. not sure if he just added electric pickups or if it was made electric. it's made of this bronze wood and you can tell this guitar has been through an entire life of ups and downs. it's chipped in places, and you're just hoping it stays together when sonny starts to play hard. their music is country, blues, folk, and indie all at the same time. and sonny can play. he can't sing so good, but that's ok. he can definitely sing well enough to pull off his songs, and that's all that matters.

recently sonny and the sunsets have been enjoying a bit of "hype." they played sxsw and their newest "single" from their newest ep was featured on pitchfork. even Spin got in on the fun and reviewed sonny's last full album, "tomorrow is alright." Spin only gave the album a 6 out of 10, which isn't great. but it's honest. the album has a couple great songs with quite a few so-so songs to complete the deal.

sonny and the sunsets live show at the bottom of the hill rocked. the bassist played this pink bass with a pick and he fucking rocked shit. i got a little bit of a beatles vibe watching the bassist play, but you mix that in with portland indy flavours, texas country silliness and a good dose of the delta blues. they played uptempo and i thoroughly enjoyed their 45 minute set, which began with a great version of "don't be dumb," a great song that is, painfully, not on the album.

ok, fast forward a few months to today. here's a link to the pitchfork page:

sonny songs

you can listen to his newest track, "the hypnotist." this song is incredibly good. the guitar picking is fantastic. and the melody and lyrics make you feel strange, strange but good, soft and funny and sweet. but not at all mushy. it's too wonderfully strange to be mushy. mashed potatoes it is not.

"all my life I've been a misfit, but now i'm with the hypnotist."

you can also listen to "too young to burn," probably the best song off his "tomorrow is alright" album.

wow, i just checked their myspace site:

myspace.com/sonnythesunsets

and they have a whole host of new shows, opening for various bands across the country. wow. that is amazing. last time i checked they had three shows lined up in san francisco. well, you've been warned, go out and see 'em.

Anthony

the open mic

In my first post, I promised an actual post. Here it is. On a Tuesday night in July, I brought my guitar and harmonica to the Starry Plough in Berkeley, and played my first open mic. The experience was so fraught with emotional highs and lows, I felt like writing it all down might help me get some perspective. You can read my description of the night and its aftermath here.

If after reading this account of my little foray into live musical performance, you feel yourself desperately needing to hear me sign Bob Dylan's Mr. Tambourine Man, go ahead on over to myspace. I know you haven't been there in a while, but trust me, it's still an okay place to visit as long as you don't stay too long. It's not such a bad neighborhood. Not too dangerous. After all, it's just a ragged clown behind, I wouldn't pay it any mind.

myspace.com/tonyleonardmusic

You my fair reader/listener are inspiration and fear.

The Strokes (How do I love thee?)

I love the Strokes. I just saw them at Outside Lands in San Francisco this last Saturday night. My love was renewed, it was tended to, logs were thrown on, the flames fanned, the fire burns bright and hard in the middle of my stomach. Fuck. Yes.

"In the sunshine having fun, it's in my blood."

I've seen the Strokes perform live three times now, twice in SF and once in Vegas. For a group that plays the disaffected, listless persona so well, they execute songs with great care. When they perform live, they play the songs from the record exactly like the songs from the record. They don't fuck around with arrogant spontaneity. They play the hits, they hit every fucking note. They waste no time. They take the whole leg of beef and cut off all the fat. Give you a meaty, all-beef burger with curly fries, ranch dressing, chocolate shakes and napkins. It's fucking clean.

Of course there is a place for spontaneity and free form jazz and all that bullshit. But not these songs. No, these songs must be executed perfectly, and execution is what the Strokes do. They kill shit.

In 2001 I was a junior in college, and I saw the "Last Nite" video for the first time. The video split my stomach with a samurai sword and opened me up like a pomegranate. In retrospect, I probably should have just fallen over and wept, let it all out, curled up like a baby and shed tears of joy and suffering. I wouldn't realize until later that that video created a divide. My musical world would from then on be defined by pre- and post-strokes.

I watched the "Last Nite" video again tonight and I felt it again, that silly, gleeful, don't give a shit, hipster happiness that starts in your stomach and melts into your bloodstream. I was just grinning at my little computer screen while Julian stumbles around the stage, bumping into Albert, throwing the mic stand like a javelin as the song unfolds into petunias and ripcords and little girl hearts and their effete arrogance. Simple things, falling. "I'm walking out that door, yeah."

"Last Nite" Video Link

I was worried waiting in the minutes before The Strokes went on stage last Saturday night. I was worried because I didn't know what to expect. I thought they might pull a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and make one great record (or in the Strokes case, three great records) then follow it up with an experimental piece of shit. I was worried the Strokes might come on stage, start playing and just sound sloppy. I worry about these things. I was also hoping they might play a few new songs. But none of that happened. They executed their best songs with passion and precision. Better than I have ever heard them. That was what was so amazing. They sounded better than before, more mature, more intrinsically connected. They play together so beautifully. They have from the beginning. And it was real again last Saturday night. They make it look easy to play together so seamlessly, but it is not. Maybe it was the sound system at Outside Lands, which for an outdoor event was on the level of real critical acclaim. Maybe it was just magic. Whatever it was, it worked, and it made me happy.

First Post

Welcome. This is the first post on The Existential Porcupine, a blog dedicated to Music, Emotion and Everything. I will be posting my first actual post (this is just a welcome note and not an actual post) soon. It will describe my recent experience playing my first open mic. I look forward to hopefully offering something of occasional interest and reading your comments. I am compelled to join the blogging masses because of a strong, if not original, desire to share my creative impulses, to leave them open to the world, to suffer the agony of criticism and revel in the joy of positive affirmation. I love you all.

Tony

Friday, July 23, 2010