All posts in the Music category

Busman’s Holiday at Chocolate Prom

Published February 6, 2013 by pipsqueak

Busman’s Holiday is a local Bloomington band comprised of brothers Addison (drums, vocals) and Lewis (vocals, guitar) Rogers. If you are a Bloomington student/native and have not taken advantage of the jolly little duo that is Busman’s Holiday, you have made a grave error. They are the most charming. Here: take a moment to gaze upon their adorable brother dichotomy and listen to them while you read the rest of this article.

primary colors have never been so dapper

Having seen two shows – one at The Bishop, one at The Rhino Club’s Chocolate Prom, I am firmly converted to Busman’s Holiday. They are the dream Local Show, what you always hope for but seldom receive. I hate to be cynical, but too often, local shows by smaller bands fall under two categories:

  • noisy electric guitar with incomprehensible screamy vocals
  • bland, un-catchy acoustic guitar strumming and with incomprehensible mumbled vocals

Busman’s Holiday falls under neither of these dismal genres. They sound a bit like they should have been on the soundtrack of Juno, or maybe in a trailer for a Wes Anderson movie. Their literate lyrics transmit well live in Lewis’s tuneful tenor.

I’m a super person. I think you should know

that in the dark I glow

like a fluorescent, iridescent

piece of velvet Elvis art.

Mr. Spaceman, Busman’s Holiday

The two are also a delight to watch during shows. Their boyish/beardy dichotomy is visually pleasing – they look like slightly different versions of the same ruddy-faced blonde stock. Lewis is lanky, and hops to the beat with boyish enthusiasm.  Addison, the drummer, remains seated at a makeshift drum kit (he uses a valise with a dragon painted on it in lieu of a bass drum) He has a confident charisma and is very witty on stage. Bonus for bowtie lovers: they are usually more dapperly dressed than your average t-shirt-and-jeans grunge rockers.

aaah ironic indie silliness

and hey it’s not an indie band without ironic moustache silliness

During the Busman’s Holiday show at the Bishop, Addison quizzed the crowd on what was The Most Patriotic Love Song, offering an astounding prize to the winner. No one was able to guess, but he awarded the prize to the runner-up – an inflated, American-flag-print machine gun. She was delighted, and waved the gun at the crowd for a few moments before re-merging to dance.

At Chocolate Prom, playing to a mixed audience (which ranged from venerable old chaps to toddlers to a tiny middle schooler with the word “EMO” written in black sharpie on his left arm) they bantered less but cranked out adorable, danceable tunes. They opened the show with a cover of “Two of Us” so sugary-sweet that I almost melted into a pool of chocolate. True story.

Busman’s Holiday will be playing at Rachel’s Cafe on Valentine’s Day.


Jeff Mangum emerges from his cave, makes everyone cry

Published January 18, 2013 by pipsqueak

Jeff Mangum, renowned frontman of Neutral Milk Hotel, recently emerged from his hiatus for one last tour. Luckily for his fanbase here at IU, he stopped by Bloomington’s most adorably-named theater, the Buskirk-Chumley, to give a (mostly) solo acoustic performance.

don’t be fooled by the silly name, this place is PUNK ROCK!!!111

Jeff Mangum took the stage wearing a pale yellow yoke sweater, drab green trousers, floppy hat, and a fiercely fluffy white-streaked beard + ‘burns. He looked a little like a wandering hermit, but an endearing one, possibly one that could have been conceptualized by Wes Anderson. He sat on a black chair on an undecorated stage, surrounded by water bottles. He pulled out throat spray and spat off to the side on the stage between most songs. During the performance of the first song, “Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1,” he repeatedly requested the sound mixer to tweak the levels (“Twoooo headed boy littlemoreguitarpleaseKevin there’s no reason to grieve”). Mangum did not seem to be interesting in putting on a performative persona. That was fine. No one was there to see a performative persona.

the always-eccentric Mangum

This isn’t to say that he was unprofessional. He just lacked the self-assured zeal for attention of other performers.  Some bands get on stage and eat up the audience’s attention, frolicking like sugarhigh children in the glow. It kind of looked like Jeff Mangum had made an uneasy impasse with the music industry, like he loved playing his music just enough to put up with the performative baloney that it entailed, but not enough to wear sparkle pants.

not pictured: jeff mangum

For some context on the demographics at this concert: I am what I would call an Entry-Level Jeff Mangum fan. I listened to the album In The Aeroplane Over The Sea obsessively during high school. I cried when Mangum sang about the day we will die and our ashes will fly. Mangum’s concert at the Buskirk-Chumley made it very clear to me that there are fans like me, and then there’s the Yelling Fans. Many listeners’ enthusiasm ended up straddling the line between “affectionate” and “sexual harassment.” Here is a list of things fans yelled at Jeff Mangum during song breaks:

  • (in response to the above) SHUT UP
  • DONT BE NERVOUS! (in response to a moment of hesitation from Mangum)

…to which Mangum murmured in reply, “No thanks. I don’t need ice cream.” This polite acknowledgment elicited hollers and clapping. But then, so did everything Jeff Mangum did. This audience was a cult audience, in all its awkward, overenthusiastic, over-sharing glory.

What is it about Neutral Milk Hotel, and Jeff Mangum in particular, that inspires such ardent enthusiasm? Part of the frenzy was certainly induced by the rarity of the performance. Mangum has always had an air of elusiveness, which was made concrete by his sudden and complete retreat from the music industry. There was still a miraculous feeling to the fact that this man was on stage before us.

But there’s also an innate quality to NMH’s music that still attracts listeners 15 years after Aeroplane’s release. There’s something transcendental in the combination of unrestrained instrumentation, Mangum’s melodious howl, and the lyrics themselves. Aeroplane views tragedy through a lens of beauty, transforming death and suffering into bizarre, gentle poetry. Mangum is of the singer-songwriter poet class. It doesn’t matter that his singing voice isn’t a classical pop or rock voice. The point of NMH isn’t to be stylish or mind-numbing music. In Mangum’s words, “The music wasn’t just there for entertainment: we were trying to create some sort of change.” (source)

the drum-head salute

The songs were mostly classics, including many of the best songs from Neutral Milk Hotel’s small discography. There were whoops of recognition from the audience within the first few chords of most songs.  A horn player from Briars of North America, an opening band, joined Mangum for a few songs.  Mangum took the stage again after a several minutes of disorganized clapping evolved into the universally-recognized synchronized “encore” clap:

“CLAP… CLAP… CLAP. CLAP. CLAPCLAPCLAP clapclapclapclapclapwefdsbjmn,qewbjfdsake”

And then Jeff Mangum trudged back on stage, picked up a burnished guitar, and told his best story. It’s a sad one, about a beautiful face and a place that is circling all round the sun.