mike house's house

congratulations to mike house, bassist of superawesome team robespierre, for devirginizing the village voice's cribz spinoff, indie cribz (you know, it's like, ironic, but still semi-serious...). mike takes us into his now-legal apartment building, a ex-squat house that guiliani sold to a housing nonprofit, the urban homesteading assistance board, which mike and his friends run (and will someday own). we see his bathroom, his roof (fucking awesome view, man), his inexplicable tupperware full of rotten crabs. mike also looks like he hasn't slept in 2 weeks, so mike, if you're out there, go to bed!

team robespierre is currently on a tour of the south east (richmond on wednesday), and play ten (count 'em, ten) shows at south by southwest. surely you can find at least six opportunities to see them.

watch the video here.

"88th precinct"

thanks to reader mike lawson for the tip!

everything's perfect

i'll tell you what - if you're sick of hearing about team robespierre, you best point your browser elsewhere, because i am so fucking in love with this band that it's scary. in lieu of going to their showpaper benefit tonight (sorry guys, but it's cold and bushwick is far away), i'm gonna rap at all y'all about the excellence of their debut album, everything's perfect. you might remember that i was at its release party (along with matt & kim!), and i really haven't stopped listening to it since. though i've been listening to them for over two months (since i picked up their fake gold sampler at the yeasayer show), i still haven't really nailed down what, exactly, i love about them so much, but i know that i fucking do.

a team robespierre song is, fundamentally, a short debilitating burst of energy, released as a mix of anger and joy that provokes little of the former, and much of the latter. on everything's perfect, they tackle subjects such as gasoline ("gasoline"), the 88th precinct ("88th precinct"), and nuclear fallout ("plutonium pigs"), and, fervently, brooklyn. fiercely proud of their home borough (if you weren't aware, you will be at the end of any team robespierre show, since they announce their origins two to four times during any set), team robespierre is justifiably resentful of its inevitable gentrification, a threat not only to brooklyn's diversity and independent spirit, but also its rent prices. currently, my favorite song on everything's perfect (most of the tracks have been my favorite at one point or another) is "mal de mer," a crude but emphatic call to arms against imported dicks with a cleverly turned chorus: "what we're gonna do is stage a coup / against these pricks they make me sick." the team's diy aesthetic and casual anti-establishmentism is their guiding light, a mindset which their (universally-shared) aversion to work stems from. one of the album's punkier cuts, "ha ha ha," is a ballsy anti-work anthem about wanting to be a hearththrob, and "solid gold" is an glitzy all-keyboard jam about "waiting for our break / so some money we can make." one olfactory byproduct of the team's lifestyle is an irregular showering schedule, which was overpowering in december, is coyly joked about on "death smells" ("death smells / i do too" is the song's closing lyric), but i'm also totally in love with its chorus, the nonsensical "death / smells / zombie / christmas," shouted at customary full volume for no reason other than the joy of it all.

so, in case you're just joining us, i'm a stingy bastard (listen - who else actually tells you when it's worth spending money on an album, instead of just downloading it?), and one thing i always looked for when buying a record is its length. unless i was desperate to have it, i wouldn't bother buying it if it clocked in under, say, 42 minutes, cuz i would totally feel ripped off otherwise. as i've grown older, thankfully, i've learned that length really has little to do with an album's quality, and that my brain can't really listen to more than 50, 55 minutes of the same band straight (i've only listened to illinoise all the way through, like, twice). what really seals the deal is my overwhelming love for everything's perfect, which scoots past at barely 18 minutes long. the single "88th precinct" is their longest tune, at just under three minutes, and only one other track is over two, yet i don't feel shorted. everything's perfect is a full album, and though i do frequently wish it was longer, that's because i don't want the party to stop when it does. one good thing about their preferred song length - it makes it hella easier to dance to. i don't know if i could spazz out as hard as is necessary for longer than three minutes without dying (metaphorically). though team robespierre's songs are short, they rarely feel underdeveloped, and it makes you wonder if it's harder to make an awesome short song than an awesome normal length song. for "black rainbow," a superb track that isn't quite 1:30, all the essential song elements are present, and there's even space for a little improvisation. usually, i find myself thinking that songs are too long, that they drag and my mind wanders, and it's really nice that that isn't the case with everything's perfect. short, sweet, and, i daresay, perfect, it's an easily digestible album that rewards long past its 18 minutes.

lyrically, everything's perfect is exciting, a little ferocious, and totally adorable (in that endearingly self-righteous way), especially because it's hard to decipher a lot of the words without the album's helpful lyric sheet. the ecstatic catharsis that accompanies any public enjoyment of team robespierre's music is what really sells the band though. just look at this photo, one of the many that sums up how intense the team is live. everybody sweats, everybody dances, some people crowd surf, and everyone runs on a lot of fucking adrenaline. i'd like to borrow a line from the hold steady here: "people touching people when they don't even know you," as it defines a live team robespierre experience, a jumbled mess of energy and euphoria. the team's loose approach to instrumentation and avid appreciation for multiple vocalists make their songs perfect for joint band-audience participation, and you will likely find yourself dancing with a member of team robespierre if you're anywhere near the front. their enthusiasm is infectious, yes, but their music is so provocative and addictive that it's hard to tell if the crowd goes more nuts when a member of the team jumps into their midst, or whether their frantic dancing has reached a sustained climax. don't expect to go home fresh and clean after one of their inimitably awesome live shows.

the moral of the story? everything's perfect rocks. go see team robespierre live.

"88th precinct" & "mal de mer"

"88th precinct"

update: good thing i ended up staying home last night. man, that fucking sucks.

foals w. team robespierre & the teeth @ bowery ballroom, 2/12/08

manhattanites! i am so disappointed in you! my boroughmates, you have shamed me! foals are a goddamn DANCE BAND. so you DANCE to them, not stand around stock still! i don't understand it at all. a handful of people (literally, five or maybe six) danced during foals' excellent show last night, and there was one only person who danced during team robespierre's set (and it was me, baby!). i know it's rather an easy shot to lambast manhattanites for not dancing, since we never do, but i was/am super bummed. not only by the minimal response to team robespierre (who, as you might recall, made the crowd go apeshit at their death by audio show two weeks ago), but by the practically absolute physical apathy for foals. they're the goddamn headliners, and you can't be bothered to shake your ass a little? can't we stop perpetuating the stereotype truth that the funnest shows are in brooklyn? unfortunately, i guess not.

aside from the embarrassing lack of movement (i'm not kidding - i'm really sad no one was dancing), last night's show was GREAT. i've been listening to foals for a couple months now (and antidotes for a few weeks), but without falling in love with the band; i certainly like their songs ("cassius" isn't the only awesome one) but it feels like foals' recorded material lacks something. i'm not sure what, but it doesn't really matter anymore, because, whatever it was, their lives show has it in fucking spades. the friendly friend over at sound bites warned us that we should expect to see foals' backs, but they've obviously learned a little about performing since cmj; they set up like a horseshoe, but weren't afraid to bust a move (frontman yannis philippakis climbed up off the stage at one point), and rocked out harder than the crowd. foals have enjoyed such a spiraling rise to prominence that their set held few surprises, but many highlights. "cassius," unsurprisingly, was awesome, as were their other singles "balloons," "mathletics," and "hummer" (also unsurprisingly, that's the closest the crowd ever got to dancing). though they were less well-known, i feel like the new antidotes material was more impressive - "heavy water," which yannis introduced as "a song about killing vampires," kicked extreme amounts of ass (grab the mp3 below) as did the live debut of "the race for radio supremacy." set closer "red socks pugie," one of antidotes' best cuts, closed the fantastic set, and foals walked off after clearly stating there would be no encore. after long minutes of cheering and hollering for more (so what, you yell instead of dancing? weak.), and orders from bowery staff (yannis: "they told us it was tradition"), foals returned, somewhat at a loss (they hadn't rehearsed any other songs), but valiantly did a great version of "big big love" before, presumably, passing out from exhaustion. foals are good performers - despite being heavily jetlagged and dazed, they bounded around the stage, postured for the crowd, and vomited from the exertion. it was awesome.

i highly recommend that you go see foals tonight at silent barn, where there are sure to be people who like to dance (it's in brooklyn). i wish i could make it. foals will be playing chop suey in seattle in a few days, and returning to the u.s. in may.

"heavy water"

"the race for radio supremacy"

signs that popular media (as in, media made by the populace) is getting out of control: when a team robespierre show has more photographers than dancers. team robespierre are one of brooklyn's biggest & newest exports, and, naturally, their live shows are expanding from warehouses and basements to more "establishment" venues like bowery ballroom, but this move isn't necessarily welcome (or, actually necessary). their show at mercury lounge was similarly awkward, with little audience participation, but it was easier to overcome there, where all four of team robespierre's vocalists took turn divebombing the crowd. at bowery ballroom last night, the team, minus lead singer tomasz, had incredibly energy, but seemed out of place. i'm happy they're moving up in the world, but stodgy manhattan non-dancing clubs are not the right venue for these guys. ty and rex and mike jumped into the crowd, but even that couldn't incite the masses to move - i'm not trying to boast when i say i was the only person dancing, because i was (i am trying to shame you though). i had a lot of fun (mike handed me the mic during the superawesome "88th precinct"), but, from my perspective, it felt like a farce, and through no fault of team robespierre's. even without tomasz, they spazzed all over the place, and their songs were as short and sweet as ever, but i know as well as they that brooklyn is the place to see them, that magical land where people aren't afraid to boogie a little.

the rumors are that the team will play again at the end of this month at a benefit for showpaper, todd p.'s free list of all all-ages shows, they also play mercury lounge again with crystal castles on march 26.

"black rainbow"

i wish i had a team robespierre video for you guys. fortunately, i was too busy dancing.

i liked the teeth, the night's first openers, a philly punkabilly outfit. they share the style of kickback bands like the m's or blitzen trapper, bands that cop a generational style and infuse it with some contemporary attitude. the teeth weren't wearing suspenders, but they wouldn't have been out of place for their amped-up 50s style rock. i entered during "i love you" (listen to it at their myspace, but believe that it's a ton more zesty live), and definitely started grooving to their sound. this is the kind of music you can take home to meet your mama, and that's no bad thing.

"ball of the dead rat"

p.s. this is so me.

team robespierre @ death by audio, 2/1/08 (record release party)

i've never been the kind of person who can enjoy live music just anywhere, and i doubt i'm the only one. as you might remember from previous live reviews, i've made a point of discussing the relative merits of any venue i've never been to before, from new york to glasgow, because i think it's the space music is performed in is almost as important as the music itself - after all, if a venue has shitty sound or cramped floor space or allows reckless behavior, that's what's going to draw your attention, no matter how much you love this band. this was only my second time at death by audio, todd p's premiere semi-legal brooklyn venue, but i hope it will be my last. even attending this show was a sort of moral chore, one that i did because its reward (i.e., directly supporting the artists and non-corporate business models) was, well, more rewarding than its process (i.e., actually going to death by audio). ethically, i'm a strong supporter of todd p's efforts to deindustrialize the music industry, promoting niche bands to all-ages crowds (always), and i'm sure he doesn't skimp on paying the bands who play there. however, the ultimate consideration is whether it's about the band or about the viewer. on a grander level, of course the band does, because people who really love them will see them anywhere and love it, but when you go to three, four shows a week, there's a lot less magic in the live experience, and comfort becomes an important criteria.

maybe i'm a little coddled here in new york, where there's a live music venue on every other corner on the l.e.s., and i can choose to see a band based on where they're playing. most bands i'm interested in playing new york at least twice a year, whether back-to-back or months apart, and i do have the relative luxury of saying, "no, i don't really like that venue. i'll see them somewhere else/next time." however, as a fan of team robespierre and, as i said, an ethical supporter of todd p, i put aside my doubts from the last time i was at death by audio and went. what a mistake.

death by audio is not a good venue. certain pitfalls, like the lights and sound (which, if you stand close enough, might actually kill you) can be attributed to, and pardoned by, the venue's shoestring existence; after all, it does seem to double as warehouse space and is definitely not licensed by the city. however, death by audio's reluctance to allow people to congregate outside the venue (which attracts cops) means that its squalid, poorly ventilated, and unbelievably cramped interior was choked with cigarette and marijuana smoke nearly as soon as the show began. new york city banned smoking indoors for a reason, and it would really have been great if death by audio's anti-establishment platform consisted of a little more than blatant health code violations and a large degree of disrespect for its clientele. another thing i absolutely love (loathe) about death by audio is their absurdly unnecessary delay between doors and starting shows. both times i've been, doors have been at 8 and the show hasn't started until after 10. the venue's mostly anarchic setup means that bathroom waits often exceed half an hour, underaged drinking is rampant, and (one of its rare upsides), its liberal in-and-out policy means that you can easily go outside for some desperately-needed fresh air (or walk to the bodega during especially awful sets - see ninjasonik for more). a night at death by audio can turn you from hale & hearty to wheezy & sniffly without breaking a sweat.

sweating is, of course, the mostly ultimate goal of any punk show, and regardless of my personal feelings towards death by audio, it was probably the best place in the city for team robespierre's record release party. after all, the band isn't exactly known to embrace law & order (see "ha ha ha"), and the close confines of death by audio incited the kind of wanton and reckless audience participation team robespierre thrives on. by the time the headliners took the stage, the room was a sauna of body heat, thanks to the noble efforts of the night's three openers, vivian girls, the golden error, and ninjasonik. disappointingly, the quality of the music (of the openers) seemed to decrease as the night wore on, peaking at opposite ends with vivian girls' reverb-y punk and team robespierre's electropunk. i got there towards the end of their set, but dug what i heard, an intelligent blend of post-punk and garage punk. the golden error, on the other hand, played rather unexciting punk-punk, some songs bearing a garage sound but, on the whole, rather derivative. however, they did manage to get the crowd moshing, so that's probably a good sign. ninjasonik were definitely the biggest disappointment of the night - two guys and the world's largest posse smoking blunts on stage over what were actually pretty good beats, but were ruined by their terrible lyrics - i only stuck around for a couple songs (before going to the aforementioned bodega) and felt compelled to leave when they started singing "somebody's gonna get pregnant" ad nauseum. not recommended.

at long last (for such a small stage, it certainly takes a long-ass time to set up between sets), team robespierre came on to absolutely thunderous applause. it's been a great year for these guys, having been literally catapulted from nothing to one of the most legit buzz bands (here's looking at you, vampire weekend) from new york. a year of building up fan bases in dank basements and crowd diving in warehouses with little more than a few mp3s to go on ended last week with the release of their first album, everything's perfect, on impose records - a staggering eighteen minute opus that makes up for its frighteningly short duration with ten of the hardest hitting tracks this side of the hudson. so good, that i don't even mind that half the tracks are from the fake gold sampler that i talked about a couple weeks ago. anyway, the place was totally fucking nuts for team robespierre's set - so crazy that the band scarcely had a chance to engage in their trademark rambunctiousness. vocalists ty and tomasz tried to crowd surf multiple times and just got pushed back towards the stage - the place was so packed (definitely above fire code, but it's not like death by audio HAS a fire code) that there wasn't even room to dance, just to sway back and forth and try to avoid the crowd-surfing bodies. a credit to team robespierre's skill was the number of fellow brooklyn musicians who showed up - i counted matt & kim (of matt & kim) and despot, but i'm sure there were more.

the show was great, and team robespierre were as good as i knew they would be. i'm still psyched to see them opens for foals in two weeks, and though i'm still a little trepidatious about their set at bowery, at least i know i'll have some degree of personal comfort there (no smoking, no ridiculous bathroom lines, and, most importantly, not a ridiculous amount of people so there's actually space to dance). long live team robespierre!

"solid gold"

buy everything's perfect from impose records.

fake gold

you might recall that i didn't sound particularly impressed with team robespierre when i saw them last, opening for yeasayer at the friction party. that's because i wasn't, and one of the band's singers really (really) needed a shower. but i really liked their aesthetic, living on the fringes and loving it, and i bought a t-shirt and picked up a sampler the band was handing out, because, hey, sometimes these things grow on you. lucky i did, because fake gold, the bruising 5 song sampler/ep, has been in my headphones all week, and i just can't get team robespierre out of my brain.

where does their appeal come from? i'm not a fan of punk, but that's the clearest architect of team robespierre's sound, a fierce, infectious blend of joy and anger. understandably disenchanted with the global web of deceit spun by authority figures, team robespierre is striking back with an arsenal of spastic electropunk songs that rarely clock in at more than a minute and a half. sometimes furious ("big deal") and sometimes wry ("88th precinct"), fake gold is as much an observation as a critique, but team robespierre don't let their resentment get in the way of having a hell of a good time. some of the choicest lyrics on fake gold are in "ha ha ha," where they yell "i'm not looking for a job / i just wanna be a heartthrob!" that shit is priceless.

one of team robespierre's punkest tendencies (and most appealing qualities) is their almost universal lack of musical ability. the band has two lead singers who play instruments (and trade off on the mic), and two musicians who sing backup (and a drummer who dives off his kit), so song structure isn't the team's strongest suit. generally, it seems that whoever doesn't sing plays an instrument, so some songs have guitar ("ha ha ha") and others have keyboard ("black rainbow"), and some have both ("laika"). one quality common to all of team robespierre's songs is how badly they make you want to get into a stinky sweaty mosh pit and dance your heart out in a physical cacophony of elbows and knees.


more a cathartic release than music you listen to on headphones, team robespierre is really intended to be heard in a live environment, where your face can be dive-bombed by any member of the band. their energy is infectious, but the team's members are their own biggest fans - they rock the hardest and dance the jitteriest, and crowd surf as much as possible. i was really excited when i found out they were opening for foals (who i've also been enjoying lately), and i really hope the crowd at bowery ballroom is gonna be down for some serious spazz-dancing. if you can't wait that long (or doubt the danceability of bowery), team robespierre is having a record release party on february 1 at death by audio. be there or be a stooge.

team robespierre's debut full length, everything's perfect, will be released on 1/22 on impose records. (thanks for the tip mike!)

"88th precinct" & "ha ha ha"

yeasayer @ mercury lounge, 12/15/07

there was one storm that wasn't forecasted yesterday, and that was the media one in effect on the lower east side. bloggers, photographers, and media mavens of all sorts gathered at the clusterfucked mercury lounge for yeasayer's first new york show since cmj, a sold out affair courtesy of friction. the diy promoter brought together up-and-comers chairlift, team robespierre, and high places to open for the much-hyped yeasayer, with the night's only downside being the set limits (half an hour for openers, 45 minutes for the headliner). 45 minutes seemed to be the perfect length for yeasayer, whose chris keating kicked the crowd out by declaring they had no songs left, and the taster we got of the other bands was just enough to pique interest.

seeing as yeasayer hasn't played their hometown since cmj, it seemed only fitting that this show's lineup was as (future) star-studded as anything the music marathon had to offer. the show kicked off with chairlist, a lo-fi pop electronica trio that yeasayer's chris keating called "the most beautiful band in new york." they charmed the small crowd of early comers with their gentle, emotive songs, easy keyboard/guitar melodies often supported by a drum machine. chairlift embraced a decorative minimalism, the drummer eschewing a full kit in favor of only a snare and a floor-mounted tom (he also played an organ that doubled as a bass line) and singer caroline draping her keyboards with blue tinsel, a cute aesthetic that matched their cheerfully wistful tunes. their songs often seemed to be pre-made for the next wes anderson soundtrack, winding and gentle as they were.

team robespierre, much like their namesake, were harbingers of catastrophe and destruction, wreaking pure havoc on and off the stage (though without any "reign of terror" nonsense). a jarring follow-up to charlift's subdued pop, team robespierre literally ransacked the place, starting their set with a no-holds-barred stage dive. music took a backseat to energy for their set, understandable for a five-piece band with four singers, all of whom prefer making their own dance pit than playing instruments. the crowd, which had quadrupled in size since chairlift, seemed stunned by their very un-new york display of unbridled enthusiasm and dancing, the front of the floor empty save for a few intrepid souls and a guy dressed as santa. since team robespierre ditched their instruments as often as not to spazz around in the pit, it was hard to tell what they sounded like, but imagine a frenetic, dance-happy punk mashup with lots of yelling and elbows, and you're on the right track. the point of their set was to sweat and dance as much as possible, and it's safe to say that team robespierre made up for everyone else's reticence by dancing twice as hard. lead keyboardist tom even set his keys up on the edge of the stage, so he could have easier access to dancing. i don't know if it was a success - there was clapping, but most faces were incredulous or stunned - but, judging by the constant flashbulbs exploding on my retinas, team robespierre made an impression, and one hell of one at that.

high places are weird, man. the boy-girl duo said little as they sped through their set, their sound at once unique and bizarre. for one thing, they used their own speakers instead of mercury lounge's, giving them a muddy and deep sound that their instrumentation doesn't hint at. mary pearson and robert barber put a new spin on the boy-girl shtick, playing self-described "hawaiian hardcore chinese pop," which actually sums up their sound pretty well. barber plays a selection of instruments, which, from my vantage point, seemed to be mostly toy or found objects, which (i think) are then routed through some kind of receiver/looping unit. he played all his instruments with self-designed sticks, and each note of each instrument created a unique sound - i was not the only one who hoped to get a glance inside his case, because who the fuck knew what was going on in there. barber's thick sounds were perfectly complemented by pearson's airy (yet reverb-heavy) voice, but i don't think i really understood them. their sound was as globally informed as yeasayer's, but their approach confused as much as it entranced. for me, the jury's still out.

i've talked about yeasayer a lot this year, and you've probably heard about them everywhere else - they have certainly owned the latter half of this year, publicity-wise. their live show is as visually exciting as it is aurally, and though the 45 minute restriction was welcomed with boos, yeasayer rocked the house and left no one wanting. they tackled all their "hits," starting the set with the anand wilder tune "forgiveness" before breaking out "2080" to universal applause. other songs included "no need to worry," "sunrise," both seasonal songs ("summer" & "wintertime"), "final path," and a new song which, unfortunately, seemed less complex than their other work. despite that, their set was musically solid and rewarding - much heavier than all hour cymbals - a satisfying conclusion to a great night of music. if friction's job is to handpick bands that are going places, they couldn't have done better than last night's show.

probably the most exciting part of yeasayer's set was chris keating, the band's charismatic frontman. though all of yeasayer was into their performance, keating took it to another level, totally lost in the music. seemingly transported or possessed by spirits, keating fell over a couple times, broke multiple keys on his keyboard by banging them with a drumstick, and tripped over the drums. mostly, though, he swayed and jerked with a supernatural intensity, punctuating his wails by punching the air or twitching in time to the heavy sounds. i wish his energy had been infectious though; the crowd stayed placid and unmoving for their entire set in dismal contrast to the band, but yeasayer was, as always, excellent.

"wait for the summer"

chairlift - "evident utensil"

team robespierre - "ha ha ha"

high places - "new grace"