Holy Fuck and then some

Holy Fuck...that's right. They named themselves Holy Fuck...so I'm guessing their main demographic is not your mom, your little sister or your kids. I know their songs have a bright future, but how will NBC, PBS or any radio announcer credit them appropriately? Announced as: "Holy Sex With Passionate Neglect and Force"? Maybe. Printed as: "Holy ==>()"? Doubt it. I guess the name "Holy Crap," "Religious Bang," and "Sanctimonious Fornication" were taken...and "Exclamation Point With Innuendo Attached" just didn't get to the point or convey the power with brevity that they needed. maybe they took their name from my friend Sarah's favorite expression.

What's sooo spectacular about Toronto's Holy Fuck? Graham Walsh and Brian Borcherdt started the band/project a few years ago and ended up as "a chaotic live celebration of lo-fi noise and weirdo casio-driven rock." Aside from Walsh and Borcherdt, several friends continually rotate through the band, pending their show and sounds needed. After numerous tours followed by post-tour studio sessions to record new tracks made on the road, Holy Fuck have now released their self-titled LP, featuring "Lovely Allen," a song that was introduced to me last night by Mountain Tempo contributor Sam Miller. And holy fuck, it's been rocking my face off! Holy Fuck (I almost feel wrong for writing their name over and over on a public blog...sorry!) has now appeared at Glastonbury, Vegoose, Lolla, SXSW, CMJ and have been on the road with Clinic, !!! (Chk Chk Chk), Wolf Parade and had studio help from Dave Newfeld (Broken Social Scene). Not bad at all. Not bad at all.

Holy Fuck - Lovely Allen

I did title this post "Holy Fuck and then some." Bored at work today? Here is the hodge podge of "then some"

be your own Jackson Pollack here

Waste another 10 minutes (12 hours if you're stoned) here

the donner party

Day 2.

Quick note:
I went through a thousand dangers to make it to the stretch of soccer fields on Sunday. I mean there was brunch, mimosas, bloodies and then there was my "group", moving at a glacial pace toward the venue. And the sun, Christ, it was something to behold.

So, I went to Grace Potter & the Nocturnals, but only remember flashes of it as I was in a recovery position looking like a member of the Donner party. This is what ill say, "she killed". She casts a wide net with her vocal range, stands proudly in the great tradition of female rockers and best of all, wields a flying V guitar. Say no more. Go see it.
A-

Grace Potter - Ah Mary

Colbie Callait:
Aside from the hilarity of watching her deal with a misguided wardrobe choice, short summer dress on windy day, you could hear the same thing I heard if you turn on FM radio RIGHT NOW. Only, you'll be more comfortable in an air-conditioned office space than I was in midst of sorority super-fans. Good spot if you're single and interested in introducing a woman to "good" music. Possible pick up line, "Have you ever heard of Feist?"
D

Rodrigo y Gabriela:
The man who commands this blog introduced me to this duo at the boulder theatre on an otherwise quiet Wednesday evening. Gregory Allan Isakov opened. It was a delight to witness them. However, as I gathered my music fest comrades and we headed over to the main stage to see them there was, within me, a thumping sound that I will refer to as: dread. How will this band translate to the main stage, let alone a music festival? Answer: they don’t. It's a guy, a girl, two guitars and some serious Latin passion. However, lets be honest with ourselves, to keep the interest of thousands, with this alone, is an immensely improbable feat. Gabriela is the exchange student you would have married and Rodrigo is the friend you wished you’d always had, and both their personas are bared gloriously during their intimate stands at our local venues, but hid behind the blasting sun at 4pm on a Sunday, they are as dry as a Colorado lawn in august, (which is fucking dry). Confine this dueling guitar duo to their habitat, a dark intimate club, where the rhythmic thud of their fingers pounds your chest, and may I suggest, your loins....?
B-

John Mayer:
OK. There are two John Mayers'. Alpha male John Mayer spins out hit singles with the ease of the Beatles. He assesses the market, scribbles down some lyrics, sets them to some major chords and prints it. (Watch bank account accrue benjamins fast). Then, there is, culture snob, sarcastic, self-hating John Mayer; the one that has landed himself in the arms of Jennifer Aniston, Dave Chappelle and Kanye west. His winning, biting, intellect navigates the media like a soft-power sage. What’s more, he forms a band called the John Mayer trio, and turns the six string guitar into his bitch. Now, at MHMF we saw a bit of both personas. His tattoo sleeve that wrapped over his newly sculpted physique evidenced his US Magazine disposition, but he stuttered over conversational interludes between songs. Assessment? He's still the dorky Jewish kid that can play the guitar like a mutha... endure the radio hits, relish the white-hot flashes of boy genius. Hold tight, it may be John that is garnering the headliner purse 20 years from now...
B+

The Roots:
HOLY FUCK!!!!! Anything I write will not do them justice. You either know or you don’t. And if you don’t, its time to go see them.
A+

The Black Crowes:
If one were needing to introduce someone to rock 'n' roll for the very first time (I have no idea why this would happen, but for the sake of argument...let’s pretend), there is probably a short list of singers that would be devilishly good examples of the genre. Caleb Followill of Kings of Leon when pushing the limits of his lungs give the impression that he was arguing about his bar tab till 3am, or Mick Jagger, circa Exile on Main Street, has a timeshare on all of rock crooners. Chris Robinson, in my mind joins this list with his unmistakable tenor. At the outset of their career his voice sounded as though it was created solely for the medium. Sadly, the bands live set and frankly their albums have begun to feel like six guys doing their day job. Everything happens when it’s supposed to; even the guitar solos have a tired quality. I believe its time for this band to tumble into turmoil, maybe then, there live set will sound less rehearsed and more spontaneous...
B-

Dave Matthews:
While I'm on the subject of tired material lets discuss Dave Matthews. Despite my greatest efforts to hang on, high school disappeared behind me as I, unwillingly, careened into the trials of adulthood. So to should Matthews. The man has released what seems like dozens of live performance tapes, saturating the market with the "magic" of his lives shows. He is simply out of tricks. We’ve heard it before. What's more, he knows he's out of tricks. His show looks like a reunion tour in which bygone era artists desperately try to dust off their old moves. But, we have the fans to blame for that. We’re encouraging it. The summer concert tour is never short of 30-somethings wanting to be momentarily transported back to their misguided days of yore. So, Matthews gives 'em what they want to the tune of $50, $60 a ticket. Stop this vicious cycle. Stop the goddamn ants from marching...
C

errr. dispatch: commerce city

For those of you who didn't read my intro to The Mountain Tempo's new contributor, please read the post from yesterday. If you're too lazy, let me say that since this blog was imagined, I've wanted this dear sir to be involved...because in a way, he already has. Apart my job in the industry of receiving new tunes on a daily basis, Sam is by far the most influential component of my musical spectrum. To explain would take me multiple posts. And, he is the only person to make what I deem the 'best mix ever.' Ladies and gentlemen, the Mountain Tempo is proud to introduce the first of many installments by samuel hayes miller...no CAPS, mind you.


dispatch: commerce city
mile high music fest day 1:
arriving in my office this morning, i half expected my banker to call me. the conversation i imagined went something like this:

banker: sam, uh, hey. its jeff. listen um, an identity theft alert popped up on my computer here, it appears you, ah, or someone pretending to be you, pulled out quite a lot of money from ATM's at the mile high festival over the weekend....

sam: ummm, no, yea, no, right. that was me.

banker: (silence)

sam: (clears throat).......the beers were eight dol...

banker: (interrupting) sam, you pulled out several hundred dollars!

sam: really!?

banker: look, sam, i like tom petty as much as the next middle class laborer, but 200 hundred dollars in bud light bills is just bad form.

sam: how'd you know i was drinking bud light..?

banker: (rolling eyes) lucky guess, look, were gonna need to move some money around, these ATM fees are killing you, couldn't’t you have swung by a gas station on your way in, jesus man!

sam: (silence) i...

(long pregnant pause)

banker: ....well, was it a good show at least?

sam: .......yes?
_____________________________
I choose a question mark at the end of my imagined conversation with severe purpose. The Mile High Music Fest (MHMF) is like a boys weekend in Vegas, you feel invincible at the time, but as the weekend winds down, in this case as Dave Mathews marched out his typical line-up of late-nineties familiars, you begin to feel a deep and aching sense of loss. Specifically, economic loss. You probably shouldn't have purchased those 7 dollar won-tons and why, oh why were you drinking 8 dollar Bud Lights hand over fist. It’s not like we are in a robust market right now. The ability to enjoy the raspy tones of Spoon frontman Britt Daniel or the sweaty, hands-in-air-get-down under The Roots tent, is relatively hindered.

However, despite all this, there were certainly good times to be had in the wilds of Commerce City, CO.

Josh Ritter:
Expertly outfitted in thin fitting suits, overhand mustaches and derby hats, Ritter’s band looked like a collision between the set of There will be Blood and Darjeeling Limited. Ritter often bothered me with his calculated recordings and over-thought lyrics but his live show feels far more lived in. The songs take on a great identity that his studio work feels stripped of. It appears that looking out over a crowd affirms for him that he is loved and that, yes, we all know his lyrics and that he can be a bit spontaneous. This is a good bet for a third date as its easy, approachable but edgy enough to prove that your reading up on your music blogs. B+

Andrew Bird:
I couldn't hide my pleasure in seeing Mr. Bird on the lineup at MHMF. Perhaps better suited for Monolith, Bird drew a good crowd of visor wearing, as-yet-to-be-converted and left them all thinking, "I don't know what to call it but....its great!". Andrew Bird is like a rare collectible you find in an antique store - curious and odd but ultimately one of your secret loves. Go. Listen. Smile. Incidentally, you'll never find a more impressive whistler. Yes, whistler. A-

Mofro:
J.J. Grey, the Jacksonville, Florida native with the delicious southern drawl, spent the entire show wielding the unmistakable red cup, or "traveller" , as he covered Otis Redding standards and hammered away on the Hammond. While a touch reminiscent of the jam-band/horns heavy late nineties, Mofro knows how to make you wish you were down south at a craw fish boil knee deep in Mint Juleps. While Mofro isn't new, its a rugged soul sound reminiscent of a late sixties Whiskey-A-Go-Go show that will not disappoint. Best if seen outside with alcohol. B+

Mofro - Lazy Fo Acre

Spoon:
Let me preface this by saying i love Spoon in a special thank-you-for-saving-rock kind of way. Their songwriting is a proud re-invention of the rock genre that is at once unmistakable and surprising. But, they did not command any more power live than on their albums. Perhaps it was the 90+ degrees weather (although they're from Austin) or perhaps the charm of Denver's thin air was not so winning, whatever the case, they themselves seemed thin. Frontman, Britt Daniel hit every note in his falsetto handbag, but appeared almost bored with himself. Nevertheless, Don't Make Me A Target rang out proudly with his perfectly pitched, realist lyrics. Buy the records, but be prepared for a louder, less insistent live performance.
*A-
*strong marks given since a mediocre Spoon still murders its competition.

Spoon - Don't Make Me A Target

Tom Petty:
Get some beer. Throw down a blanket and ask nothing more from a man who has carved out a spot in all of our hearts, somewhere. Perhaps small, it’s in there if you look hard enough. I could have done without the Steve Winwood guest appearance, but that’s probably because he brings flashbacks of tight-rolled pants or something equally upsetting. Petty sounds good, but unless your into the stadium mass rock audience, he is simply a pleasant finish to a long festival day. Good show to get the parents out of the house.
B

Where is The Mountain Tempo?search: "Under The Weather"

Folks, sorry about the delayed post today but I promise to make it up to you. Although the inaugural Mile High Music Festival was phenomenal, I would like to offer some advice: The line to get a Chipotle burrito at the food court in the festival was long for a reason. The line to get a french dip sandwich was non-existent for a reason. Because I deemed seeing Spoon a priority, I opted not to wait in line for 25+ minutes for a scrumptious Chipotle burrito which my stomach could easily handle. Instead, I chose to go to a shack with no line and head to the show. That was Mistake #1. Mistake #2 was swallowing the bites to follow. That was all she wrote.

So, let's cut the middle part of the story out and I'll tell you two things:
1. I'm getting better and whether you attended or not, I know you deserve a complete wrap-up of The Mile High Music Festival which is why I have summoned a Mountain Tempo guide/friend/ambassador to offer us his perspective. Who is this masked enigma? Take the looks of Brad Pitt, the wit of some Colbert with a splash of Hornby and Sedaris, sprinkle on some Wall Street Journal clippings and then take a bit of imdb.com's database, three scoops of Wes Anderson movies and soundtracks and five ounces of Spinal Tap...don't forget some Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, RJD2, Ray Lamontagne, J. Crew, Bill Withers, and the 18 artists you haven't heard of yet this year, and THEN you can begin to realize who this Mountain Tempo contributor really is. (sorry ladies (and gents), he is taken at this moment). Keep your eyes peeled in the days to come because he will be providing a concise conclusion for The Mile High Music Festival and what was a fantastic weekend for Colorado music. In addition, he will be providing the Tempo with more sporadic posts to come, lighting your horizon and furthering your exploration into the world of music. I'm already excited for his first post after the coming MHMF review!

2. I'm getting better and though I'm having hot flashes like a 58 year-old woman and sweating like a prostitute in church, I know I'm overcoming the wrath of the Mile High Music Festival Buffalo French Dip Sandwich with pure grace. As bad as I feel, keep in mind I look nothing as horrible as Keith Richards on a good day. In the meantime, I will leave you with videos that can cheer up the sick over-heated.

Until Tomorrow,
The (stormy) Mountain Tempo

I don't know what IT is, but he's got IT.


The Office (Original)- Flash Dance with M.C. Hammer


"looks like somebody's been down here with the ugly stick"