All The Lazy French

With FJ loitering outside all-male theaters on Santa Monica boulevard and sharing iPod tips with law enforcement, news on the home front is my responsibility for another week. The past few days were rife with gigs, record purchases and hypefactor work, thankfully, so there is a lot to keep you occupied until FJ writes about the "gig" he saw Saturday night.

First stop of the week was on Thursday at the dreaded Piano's (where personality goes to die) to see The Dansettes. Joe Babic, the perenially youthful bassist in Saintface, has dated a charming lady named Jamie for as long as anybody in the MOGpac has been going to see his band. Unlike the worst rock 'n' roll girlfriends - a lecherous lot who date talent because they lack it themselves - Jamie is a musical firebrand in her own right, and The Dansettes are her band. A 1960s-styled girl group, no less, with Jamie and two others on vocals and a quartet of male instrumentalists. While The Dansettes are a nostalgia act in the sense that they are not doing anything to modernize the soul genre, they stay true to the tenets of the best groups from that era and have more talent and style than any other contemporary outfit claiming to be "soul." The set mixed obscure Northern Soul covers and originals, and it was obvious the band knows its roots because they nailed the best elements of the former in their own material. It is tragic that The Dansettes have yet to commit anything to tape, as Jamie truly has an excellent tropue on her hands.

Revelation of the evening: Jamie can belt out those soul numbers with as much vigor and flair as her 1960s predecessors. Who knew the spirit of Dobie Gray was alive and thriving in the body of a 5-foot, 3-inch Polish girl? Utterly remarkable.

My original plans to see Saintface at Lit on Friday night were scuttled when, at the last minute, FJ discovered via Irene that Colder had their debut New York gig booked for the same evening at Rothko on the Lower East Side. Colder is the alias of Marc Tan, a French video artist who wrote and recorded some tunes to accompany his visual work. "Again," the album borne of those recordings, ended up being more interesting than anything Tan committed to DVD, and he was promptly signed to Output Recordings (the über-hip home of The Rapture, etc.) Reviews pegged the record as a more electronic Joy Division or Revenge, naturally piquing interest among some MOGpac members. And for the most part, the record lives up to the hype, as its absence of memorable hooks is more than compensated for with Tan's spacious programmed atmospheres.

When FJ or I carp about electronic artists' live shows, we almost always note the reliance on computers or pre-programmed material (Squarepusher, you asshole: take note). In Colder's case, however, the exact opposite was the case. Tan brought a three-piece accompaniment (guitar-bass-drums) for the tour, and his group proceeded to wreck the album's subtle delivery. It was not until the middle of the hour-long set that the group struck a rerasonable balance between the live rock and the programming, and even then with mixed success. I will rarely argue that something is too live, but the criticism holds true for Colder. Even Ash, an ardent fan of Again on the first listen, was underwhelmed. And our talkative guests did not help matters.

That being said, Colder drew a heck of a crowd for a show with no promotion. Every crisply-dressed indie snob in the city packed into this tiny club, making for a crowded, overheated and unpleasant wait... save for the DJ playing Die Warzau's "Land Of The Free."

I made the trek to Rebel Rebel on Saturday for no particular reason, only to discover that Dave had limited edition versions of Morrissey's You Are The Quarry in stock. In short, this is the best set of tunes old Moz has assembled since the early 1990s. There is nothing earth-shattering here, aside from the liberal use of programming and synthesizers, but the melodies are strong and as arresting as anything in the man's solo repertoire. I will argue that a stellar lyricist like Morrissey should align himself with more innovative songwriters and arrangers, as stated in the New York Times' review of Quarry. Nevertheless, Boz Boorer and Alain Whyte are competent players who deliver some fine work on this album. Kudos.

PJ Harvey's new single The Letter, on the other hand, was a letdown. Harvey chose to produce her new record herself, and limited her instrumental support to longtime collaborator Rob Ellis. While the song is pure Harvey, the production leaves a lot to be desired when held up against Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea. A shame, really, though I will reserve final judgement for the album.

Album to be discussed later that you must pick up now: Chris Connelly's Night Of Your Life, out now on Underground, Inc.

Tonight: Guitar work on "Leningrad" to test my theory that the song is far from complete. Stay tuned...