Daft Punk, Yeah Yeah Yeah's, Thievery Corporation, TV On The Radio, Monbojo in São Paulo

Okay firstly, mp3's are back. So you can download those Beck tracks now. Hurrah. I have only gone back a couple of posts because its loads of effort and I figured that those of you who want them probably already have them. But if I am wrong, let me know and I will re-up (is that a word?) them for you.

But mainly, I wanted to file my match report on Sundays concert in São Paulo. I have always found it easier to write negative reviews than good ones, and boy, am I going to get my chance. But that will have to wait for a minute.

Personality seemed to be the defining characteristic of the evening for me. First band on were Monbojo, a Brazilian band from Recife, and that's about all I can tell you about them. Despite being excessively loud (dodgy soundman), they were pretty decent. I liked the fact that the had the personality to wear their Brazilian-ness on their sleeves, there was a definite tropicalia element going on, but they were not afraid to drop in other influences like drum 'n' bass. I have an mp3 to post when I can work out how, until then you can check them out here:



Then it was TV On The Radio. Like every single blogger, I think Return To Cookie Mountain is one of the albums of the year (I think there is some kind of law about it), so I was highly excited about the prospect of seeing it live. Also I saw this performance on Letterman, which also got me like well excited:



Lead singer Tunde Adebimpe is an excellent performer and singer, none of that indie boy staring at the floor, mumbling business for him. The relevance of their song Staring At The Sun has just hit me like a cheese covered curveball. I like them because they are ambitious and different and interesting and arty and because they have great songs, which is ultimately all I want from a band.

My original review of Thievery Corporation was this:

They have bongos.

But I can't resist this opportunity to spew forth so much bile, it's too gooood to pass up. Lame, lame, lame. On stage there were numerous singers, rappers, tablas, a sitar (it's getting worse and worse isn't it?), two terribly nice English men probably called Rupert, and yes, bongos, current holder of James' most loathed musical instrument award. The beats were the most pedestrian imaginable, as if the last 10 years of hip hop never happened. I kept imagining Timbaland and Pharrell standing in front of the stage, pointing and laughing. To take all these influences from so many disparate areas and put them together in something so bland takes a special lack of talent.

Of course I don't know if those two men are called Rupert, and if they are English (although I'm sure they are British), and if they are middle or upper class toffs, and frankly I don't care because that's how they sound. English toffs cherry picking the most obviously accesible and least challenging elements from other peoples cultures, and spewing them out in an equally uninspiring form to other English middle class people, just back from the shops having spent £30 on a new Buddha Bar album. Bland, and completely lacking in personality.

Which is not an accusation you can level at Karen O. She bounces onstage wearing a purple leotard with yellow flashes, a cape, a tight red hood, and mask that looks like its made out of biscuits, and I say "yay" because I am in the presence of a true pop star, that rarest and most wonderful of sights. She has that quality that I have only seen a few times (David Byrne and Pharrell come to mind) where you can't take your eyes off her. She's compelling because you know that this matters to her, she doesn't dress like that because she's wacky, she does it because she is there to put on a show, she's a performer there to entertain us. You can see this below (although you might want to turn the volume down on Y Control as it's the most distorted video on YouTube).





I was also struck by how raw and abrasive the Yeah Yeah Yeahs can sound live. Nick Zinner is an amazing guitarist, the sound he generates is remarkable and quite near the pain barrier at times, especially when accompanied by Karen’s banshee scream. I was surprised how at times they sounded Shellac with pop songs (a considerable compliment). But most of all I liked that fact that this was a show, put together for our entertainment by people who really care about what they do.

The contrast with Daft Punk is obvious. If there is one thing that dance music can suffer from it is a lack of personality. When you adopt the guise of robots, only allowing yourself to be seen as man machine, not man, then it seems like you are taking this to its logical conclusion. But listen to Daft Punks music and the personality of it is overwhelming, there are oceans of it. I think some of the most entertaining concerts I have seen have been ones that could so easily have suffered from the two men and a laptop problem. The acts are aware that they have to make an effort to turn this into a show, so they go to town on lights and projections and suddenly you are standing inside a kaleidoscope and the music surrounds you in a way that rock 'n' roll almost never does.

They appear from behind the curtain standing inside what could be a triangular spaceship. Then that thud begins, the one that has shaped house music for the last 10 years, the one that makes you dance like a buffoon and grin like an idiot (that grin didn't leave for 20 minutes). And yes they play all the hits, but in a way that makes it more than a greatest hits set. It's more of a dj set of their own music, songs weaving in and out of each other (the Around The World vocal sample is a recurring motif for about half the set). There are slower moments, like any good dj set, and there are bits where you jump and down, fist in the air, especially during One More Time. The tracks from the last sorely underrated album (listen to it again, on headphones!) don't sound at all out of place, the opening Robot Rock, the brutal Brainwasher and the closing medley of Steam Machine and Da Funk. To experience this in a room full of Brazilians, people who do not need a second invitation to enjoy themselves, was truly memorable.



The other side to this evening was the fact that it finished at 2am on Monday morning, that we were there for 7 and half hours, that by the end Bruna, who was really only there for me, was exhausted and understandably a bit grumpy, and that we had to be up at 5 to catch a flight to return to Brasília. The next two days were lost as we were exhausted, and it seemed to give me a cold. I now have to be the best boyfriend in the world for about a year to make up for all the girlfriend points Bruna acquired that evening. But none of these things matter as they will fade with time. However, the memory of the time I saw Daft Punk in São Paulo, Brazil, will not.

You can download an excellent quality recording of Daft Punks set from the Coachella festival in April this year from here. Do it.