By Less Lee Moore
The Mod Club, Toronto ON
January 29, 2010
Rare is the band that I like immediately upon hearing them; rarer still is the one that can sustain that feeling in a live setting. White Lies have accomplished both.
Hugely popular in Britain, White Lies played just four dates in North America this time around—actually three, since their New York show at the Highline Ballroom was canceled at the last minute due to bad weather. Luckily, Toronto residents did not have to miss them at the Mod Club last weekend.
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By Less Lee Moore

If you’re in Vancouver, BC on February 18, you must check out Cthulhupalooza II: Son of Cthulhupalooza!
Celebrate your enthusiasm for forbidden tomes, ancient space gods and eldritch cake by joining us on Feb 18. Prizes for the Miskatonic Middleschool Bake Sale competition are provided by our generous sponsors, entrants should contact us to register at info@secondlevelwizards.com and for rules and regulations. Roaring ’20s period costume welcome. It’s tentacular!
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By Jim R. Clark
If you haven’t listened to White Lies’ debut album, To Lose My Life yet, well then, what are you waiting for? Now is the time. Their new album, Ritual, was released on January 18. Much like reading chapter two in a great novel, you won’t want to forge ahead without reading chapter one first.
As you may know from reading my previous articles, I’m an avid fan of the ’80s electronic sound, so I’m excited. Personally I’m still hoping for a cover of Alphaville’s 1985 song, “A Victory Of Love,” but I think that may be asking too much. (For some reason, I’m convinced that this song would make for an awe inspiring show stopper if given the White Lies treatment, but then again, that’s just me.)
White Lies just completed a few dates in the US and North America (sadly, their NY show was canceled due to a snowstorm) and has scheduled a British tour in February to promote Ritual, so if you’re reading this in Britain, then get up and buy some tickets. And if, like me, you’re not in Britain, try to catch them on Later . . . with Jools Holland reruns on BBC America.
The band took some time out from their busy touring schedule to answer a few of my burning questions and shed some light upon their dark and mysterious nature, hinting at the more electronic sound for their second album.
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By John Lane
For the uninitiated, The High Llamas are an enduring band that emerged in the early ’90s. Sidestepping the twists and turns of the teenage-angst/grunge bandwagon propagated by the media because of Nirvana, the Llamas hoed their own row and followed the credo that sometimes a small sound can make its own huge explosion. They were armed with banjos, vibraphones, strings, and a savvy musical sensibility that embraced everything from Bacharach to Bizet.
I first came across the High Llamas circa 1997 when a friend of mine (knowing of my love of The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds) asked me if I had heard of them. I didn’t, so he made me a tape copy of their album Hawaii, which I proceeded to play ad nauseum on a small General Electric radio/tape-player the night before a wedding. I was the groom’s best man, and after about ten listens of the epic album, he politely asked if I could spin something else. I grudgingly obliged, but can’t remember what the substitute was.
I was thrilled to get the chance to prod the brain of High Llama guitarist and songwriter Sean O’Hagan.
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By John Lane
In another era, Mary Edwards might have been a behind-the-scenes songwriter in the famous Brill Building, that renowned stable of musical artisans that included Goffin & King, Laura Nyro, and a host of others. Instead, in this era, we are lucky to have singer/songwriter Mary Edwards in clear view. Her music is characterized by a smooth charm that draws upon soft-pop, jazz, and funk, framed with a soulful voice that is reminiscent of Dionne Warwick in her prime; her attitude reflects an almost guileless enthrallment with music and the sometimes subtle, gifted influences that can become songwriting fodder. I caught up with Mary upon the recent release of her latest album, Console.
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By Less Lee Moore
Any marginalized subculture bristles at being misinterpreted on film. Then again, the punk subculture is by now so fragmented and unrecognizable, one hesitates to even attempt to define it, much less depict it on the screen.
Yet best friends Zack Carlson and Bryan Connolly spent five years documenting each and every appearance of punks on film. They were inspired to undertake this monumental task after re-watching Penelope Spheeris’s quasi documentary Suburbia and then shortly thereafter, seeing Joysticks, a video arcade comedy from 1983, for the first time.
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By Less Lee Moore
“Don’t ask me any questions you don’t want the answer to.”
—From “You’re Trying To Break Me”
At the risk of beginning a Foetus review with reference to another, I will do just that. If Sparks, the uncategorizable band composed (mostly) of brothers Ron and Russell Mael, can be said to make music that is practically theatrical, then Foetus, also known as JG Thirlwell, makes music that is downright cinematical.
And you know those annoying people who claim to despise movies that make them think? Those people will never appreciate JG Thirlwell. Sometimes it feels exhausting trying to figure out all his references and nods and motifs, especially when he keeps his true self so close to the chest. But for those of us who love listening to his music over and over—digging and pondering, delving deeper and deeper into it—the payoff is outstanding.
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By Jemiah Jefferson
In 2011, what does “relevance” mean? A term heavily bandied about by the music press, especially in the UK, a band’s relevance is of paramount importance, ranking ahead of sexiness, competency, or pure enjoyment. Perhaps for these reasons, Duran Duran hasn’t been necessarily “relevant” since their second album Rio set a new bar for all musical artists everywhere.
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By Janet Brusselbach
It feels really good to be listening to free music that’s not only intended to be free, but that’s also really good.
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By John Lane
Something audacious is happening in the otherwise-inconspicuous state of Rhode Island. The Lexingtons, helmed by their chief Eric Warncke, have taken the plunge that very few bands dare to anymore: the release of a double album, titled (with its yin-yang polarity in check) Isn’t It Nice To Be Loved?/Choose Choice.
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