Kevin Barnes doing his best...fuck, I don't think this was an impersonation of anything.
This piece (Can I actually call it that?) was supposed to be included in Time Out's "Sex" issue in March '08, or sometime around then. My flamboyant editor decided it wasn't sexy enough, or it didn't dig deep enough, or something. A new editor took over in May, took one look at the piece and told me she'd be on the phone with Rolling Stone Turkey, or at the very least, it'd find it's way into the next issue. It never saw the light of published day. Fucking chumps. I was actually proud of it, which is roughly translated into "I spent more than just half an hour working on it."
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Glen Johnson can’t look the crowd in the eyes. He keeps his eyes to the roof, pacing back and forth as if the secret to his brooding rock is wedged up there. Some might call it a rock and roll quirk, but I think he’s hiding something.
Regardless, Johnson and his band mates in Piano Magic worked a trance on the crowd with the sprawling opener, “You Can Hear The Room” from their 2005 effort “Disaffected.” The band’s return to Istanbul was a slightly sedated affair that began inauspiciously, as many long term relationships do.
Early in the set it was obvious the band lacked the necessary charm to win us over on appearance alone. (An obvious contradiction to the aesthetically rich city they were throwing it down in) That didn’t seem to matter to the crowd at the Babylon; the dedicated sang along as if choir auditions were in session. What Piano Magic lacked in shameless charm they made up for with an onslaught of sound. As the tunes swelled a piercing light would appear from the center of the kick drum, becoming inescapable. You were left standing beside yourself, feeling white hot with no trace of pretense.
The whole thing was so damn comfortable. But like everyone in Istanbul, I had something on my mind besides what was front of me. And I’ve been tempted on more than one occasion to mention their name. I know I shouldn’t be ashamed; it’s hardly likely that you have never given heed to temptation as well.
Of Montreal debuted in Istanbul just days before Piano Magic did, creating a dichotomy of guitar and keyboards. Each band rendered the tiny Babylon gasping for air.
It seems fitting to introduce Of Montreal, a poppy, eclectic five piece from Athens, Georgia as “Her”; their set was a “How to” in seducing the crowd. Everyone was getting off. Loud shrieks brought inevitable conclusions. It was a night of sweat and dance, but it was only temporary. But for that moment when everything seems permanent, it doesn’t matter. It was as if the crowd could have fucked Of Montreal for just one night and walked away from them. And though it lacked any sex, Piano Magic was as comfortable as a long-term relationship might be.
Foreign bands gigging in Istanbul remains a bit of a rarity. But wo bands gigging within four days and eliciting such varied responses is even more of a rarity.
When European cult icons Piano Magic returned to Istanbul for the second time within 6 months, the sound reminded me of the crowds I’d hear during radio broadcasts I’d listen to in my youth, often with the lights out for a bit of effect. So did marriage live up to expectations, in a sense? Sure, at times. There were points mid song when my bouts with transcendence were interrupted by spilled beer and any other hazards you might expect at a European rock show. Love will never be perfect.
And what’s a long term relationship without a serious lack of foreplay, or branching out on the sexual tree in any means? Most Piano Magic records sound like muffled optimism, and I wondered what a good headspace for making a Piano Magic record was. Johnson told me that “It’s usually a fast recording process. I find making records very boring.”
At least they were saving their good stuff. Is foreplay useless?
Anyway, to avoid a messy scene I ought to ward off confusion. Of Montreal are the type of band that leaves “Holier than thou” indie kids dripping wet. Spearheaded by Kevin Barnes, a master of hooks, the band’s latest record “Oh Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer”, a dance rock and synth-laden pop fusion made nearly every “Best Of 2007” list. Their live shows have been renowned for their sheer visual delights. Their gigs remind you of a dream you’d keep to yourself.
My interview with Of Montreal had been set up rather smoothly. But already, I’d fallen for the bait. Believing that a long-term relationship can be fostered without knowing that much about your one night stand isn’t love at first sight; it’s just be blindsided. But sure enough, I was smitten. And it was effective; I was using words like “Smitten” to describe how I felt.
But Of Montreal have had that effect on indie music. What began with a failed relationship with a woman from Montreal, Barnes has become a poster child for DIY indie pop, walking that fine line between love and hate for the indie kids.
While he continued to release his own brand of uncompromising synth-pop, gaining critical acclaim with the insanely catchy 2005 record “The Sunlandic Twins,” he’s also managed to rattle the feathers of the same hipsters which brought him fame. He’s allowed his tunes to serve as soundtracks to television commercials for major American corporations, which forced him to label anyone who contributes to western society as a “Sell-out.”
I agreed with him. Damn that confidence. Of Montreal’s latest effort “Oh Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?” wreaks of urgency. There are suicidal undertones throughout the entire record. Though Barnes was going a rough patch while recording of “Hissing Fauna,” he told me that the way the record sounds “Just sort of happened.” I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t want to spend the night with someone who downplays his own misery with that kind of blasé-like charm.
The interviews themselves were incredibly telling. Kevin Barnes was four hours late and had it not been for some dogged determination on my part, the whole thing wouldn’t have happened. But he gave me his time and then moved on. How poignant; the death of romance and the death of “What could have been.” Sort of sums up many attempts at a one-night stand in this city, yeah?
Johnson and Piano Magic however were waiting for me backstage before their Babylon gig with beer on ice. If your lover keeps the light on for you at the end of the night, you’ll be thankful.
But onto the gigs.
Of Montreal looked jubilant and dived into “Disconnect The Dots” winning the crowd over on first glance. We saw them from across a crowded room, admiring their fashion sense. It was flashy, frenzied and left the crowd twitching. The first few tunes blended into each other and the entire crowd blended into one mass. We couldn’t help but dance.
Once again substance was sacrificed for beauty. I’d asked Barnes how he transformed Of Montreal’s complicated songs into their live set. In having an extravagant live show, were any of the personal tunes lost amidst the frenzy of their live show? “Yeah, definitely,” he confessed. “While a record is certainly more personal, I think during every live set I’m sort of praying for intervention. You know, everyone’s dancing and you’re just looking for something to happen.”
As a pawn in their glam-rock game, I felt sexy though obsolete. Their set was varied enough, drawing hits and rarities from each of their eight records. I don’t doubt that this was Barnes’ decision; before the show each member from Of Montreal I spoke to referred to Barnes as the brainchild of the band. At least he’s charismatic; whenever he dropped his guitar he made time with that old adage and danced as if no one was watching. Like it or not, all eyes were fixated on Barnes throughout the entire performance.
And he reveled in the attention. The stage is a great home for Barnes. Through the high-energy first set he didn’t offer much in the way of pleasantries to the crowd but he did acknowledge how much fun he was having. “Thank you for letting me be myself, Istanbul.” Though they were rough around the edges and lacked the cohesiveness you’d show your parents, they certainly were confident. And though the sheer amount of make-up on stage gave the show a palpable androgyny, there was confidence. Pop culture dictates that women dig confidence; the looks on the crowd meant that Barnes’ confidence was easy to grasp and feed off of.
During a stop in Las Vegas earlier in their tour, Barnes appeared naked onstage. Whether that kind of exhibitionism would have worked at Babylon is besides the point; there was still a certain “Campy, cabaret” feeling to their live show, as Barnes dubbed it. “I’m drawn to pop music. Anything that is musically buoyant is good for me.” As buoyant as pop music is, it won’t keep your head above the skin of the Sea of Marmara for long; pop music might not be art only because the attraction is temporary at best.
And that’s what Of Montreal felt like on the December 15 at Babylon; fireworks exploding in the sky. The visual and auditory trip only lasted as long as the attention of a seemingly sober crowd allowed it to. Though they were brilliant, it couldn’t last. Barnes described an Of Montreal live show as an intervention. I wondered, was it little more than temporary insanity? And likewise, is a one night stand anything more than that?
Whereas Of Montreal begged the crowd to dance, Piano Magic seemed comfortable with requisite head-nodding. It was a different kind of energy. One thing was sure: Piano Magic’s drawn out harmonies could have lasted another hour while still keeping the crowd’s attention. Though lacking any and all sex in their performance Piano Magic was exactly the type of band to bring home to your parents. And though Of Montreal were a sexed up bunch that wrote tunes suitable for temporary escape, it was easy to become annoyed.
It could be the subtlety of Piano Magic which attracts fans in the first place, but it was their care-free attitude which made me realize this was a partnership to endure for the long haul. It wasn’t as if seeing through Of Montreal’s charm relegated Piano Magic to a back-up or anything. It was a search for something permanent in a constantly evolving city.
Despite releasing nine full length records Piano Magic has never toured outside of Europe. They remain a cult band. I asked Johnson if there was any part of him that wants a hit record?
“Well, it’s certainly not something that keeps me awake at night. I’m proud of a lot of our music. I’m sure all the extra drugs and stuff would be nice, but I’m not about to do anything different as a musician to achieve mainstream success.”
Mainstream success might have eluded Piano Magic in the past because of the nature of the band itself. For years there was nothing about a new Piano Magic record that resembled the last, besides the band’s primary influences like The Cure. Johnson told me that their “English” sound is merely subconscious.
It all made perfect sense. For years the music of Piano Magic was labeled as “Too weird” or even “Too European.” But as the band powered through their set, instruments became a well-oiled machine. Simple songs like “I Must Leave London” left the emotional impact there for the taking. Relationships take time to develop and nurture; while the sex might be boring, the opportunities to grow as a person within a relationship are rampant. Besides, everyone reaches that point when they realize being in a comfortable relationship is as cool as being a traipsing bachelor or bachelorette once was.
So let’s reluctantly face facts. It’s a question of morals as it can be for any music fan (Or anyone for that matter) who leaves their priorities at the door when they enter a club. Do you give into the lures of good looking people and temporary escape? When I spoke to Kevin Barnes we thinking beyond each other, though I found myself waiting around for Piano Magic after the gig. Upstairs at Babylon, I opened my second pack of smokes of the night and began to wonder if waiting around was worth it. Just then, drummer Jerome Tcherneyan walked past and recognized me immediately. He handed me a drink and winked with purpose; there was still some romance left.
In 2008, music has become the most disposable form of art. The only way to make music permanent is to attach an emotion to it. And it’s not as if these emotions can be searched for, they usually come to you when you least expect it. When you look at a painting on a wall, it’s rare that you question how it looks so much as how it makes you feel. A song usually elicits the opposite response, however. You’re much more likely to have someone answer “What’s Piano Magic like?” with “They sound like The Cure” as opposed to, “Oh, they forced a sadness out of me that I never knew existed.”
But if something happens drastic happens to you with a tune in the background that song immediately becomes a bit of high art. And the whole thing happens very serendipitously. Which is why I was really struck by the associations I made to each band; after all, both bands played the same club on similar nights. I’d argue a bunch of the same Istanbulites were in the crowd for both nights.
And therein lies the righteousness, not the tragedy. There were probably lots of folks who became exited enough during Piano Magic to forget about a long-term relationship and likewise, just as many who saw something within Of Montreal that they could continue with, for a long time. That’s something the two bands had in common. They bridged that gap, and altered minds that were for taking. That’s worth the ticket price alone.
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