Reverb & Radio 1190 Presents
Suckers
the Raven and the Writing Desk, Young Man
Wed, May 9, 2012
Doors: 8:00 pm / Show: 9:00 pm
Hi-Dive$10.00 - $12.00
Off Sale
This event is 18 and over
http://www.hi-dive.com/event/111185/
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Suckers
In two short years, Quinn Walker, Austin Fisher, Pan and Brian Aiken, aka Suckers, emerged with a sound and aesthetic that grew them a local following from their homebase at the Glasslands Gallery in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. With the members often simultaneously playing multiple instruments per song and singing, shouting and chanting in unison, the group's early shows (often featuring the band in face paint and costumes) were wild affairs featuring primal beats, future sounds, trumpet blasts, religious truths and the sheer enjoyment of three one-man bands playing together. The trio knew they were missing something or someone and added drummer/keyboardist Brian Aiken, fresh off a year abroad in Hungary. With Brian on board, the band hit their stride, packing local venues and sharing bills with friends and kindred spirits in Yeasayer, MGMT, Bear In Heaven, Chairlift and Real Estate.
Those same audiences-and a nationwide mass of new converts-found themselves fully enmeshed in Suckers' lush tapestry of joyous pop, style and imagination on their self-titled debut EP (produced by Yeasayer's Anand Wilder), released in April of 2009. The EP -and its hit single, "It Gets Your Body Movin'"-launched them to global acclaim via outlets such as Rolling Stone, NME, NPR, Nylon, Under The Radar, Stereogum, Interview and many more.
Those same audiences-and a nationwide mass of new converts-found themselves fully enmeshed in Suckers' lush tapestry of joyous pop, style and imagination on their self-titled debut EP (produced by Yeasayer's Anand Wilder), released in April of 2009. The EP -and its hit single, "It Gets Your Body Movin'"-launched them to global acclaim via outlets such as Rolling Stone, NME, NPR, Nylon, Under The Radar, Stereogum, Interview and many more.
the Raven and the Writing Desk
"It sounds like Danny Elfman got together with Nick Cave to make gypsy carnival music for a sequel to The Nightmare Before Christmas" - Murphy
Back in the coffee-stained pages of times past, amidst an era of colorless life, miniature musicians lived and breathed inside a box. it was a music box - a box full of mystery provoking passion and radiant creativity - and the sounds!! -- oh the sounds ... such original sounds sprang from the hinges of the box. sweet melon melodies and rattling anthems of frenzy and hope splashed kaleidoscopic color all over the straight-laced square-pants running down their big wide empty avenues, lined with un-curiously matched box houses. the sound travelled wide and colored fast, splattering the neatly tucked-in features and the neatly painted houses filled with those perfectly pruned people, doing their perfect flawless no-things. for a brief moment, the world was illuminated - and it scared those drab people. it scared them so much, that they gathered in the perfect little townsquare with their perfect little pitchforks and they found that pristine box, the one that sprayed those "awful colors" of emotion of theatricality, the one that housed those miniature musicians, with their miniature feelings and their miniature songs, and they buried that box, so it could no longer spray all those dirty messy colors all over their perfectly dreary world. they buried it deep in the ground - so deep that the miniature musicians could no longer see the beautiful colors of their beautiful songs. so deep that the miniature musicians were silenced by the darkness and their colors gave way to drab flawless nothing-ness. there was a quiet sadness in the world for a time. it was an unfortunate occurrence.
...and then a shovel! in a garden!! almost 80 years of combined experience had elapsed!!! immediately, shots of color smoked out the hinges of the box until it exploded ... all over the young shovel-toting unexpector. "finally, there is color here!" she exclaimed, in a sunny garden by a denver carriage house. she picked up the miniature musicians, and she picked up the miniature music box, and she asked them in for tea and some toast...
they are now known as The Raven and the Writing Desk
--- and they love toast.
Back in the coffee-stained pages of times past, amidst an era of colorless life, miniature musicians lived and breathed inside a box. it was a music box - a box full of mystery provoking passion and radiant creativity - and the sounds!! -- oh the sounds ... such original sounds sprang from the hinges of the box. sweet melon melodies and rattling anthems of frenzy and hope splashed kaleidoscopic color all over the straight-laced square-pants running down their big wide empty avenues, lined with un-curiously matched box houses. the sound travelled wide and colored fast, splattering the neatly tucked-in features and the neatly painted houses filled with those perfectly pruned people, doing their perfect flawless no-things. for a brief moment, the world was illuminated - and it scared those drab people. it scared them so much, that they gathered in the perfect little townsquare with their perfect little pitchforks and they found that pristine box, the one that sprayed those "awful colors" of emotion of theatricality, the one that housed those miniature musicians, with their miniature feelings and their miniature songs, and they buried that box, so it could no longer spray all those dirty messy colors all over their perfectly dreary world. they buried it deep in the ground - so deep that the miniature musicians could no longer see the beautiful colors of their beautiful songs. so deep that the miniature musicians were silenced by the darkness and their colors gave way to drab flawless nothing-ness. there was a quiet sadness in the world for a time. it was an unfortunate occurrence.
...and then a shovel! in a garden!! almost 80 years of combined experience had elapsed!!! immediately, shots of color smoked out the hinges of the box until it exploded ... all over the young shovel-toting unexpector. "finally, there is color here!" she exclaimed, in a sunny garden by a denver carriage house. she picked up the miniature musicians, and she picked up the miniature music box, and she asked them in for tea and some toast...
they are now known as The Raven and the Writing Desk
--- and they love toast.
Young Man
It's enough to make you stop and say, "What is that?" It being the gorgeous melodies and lean, spellbound guitar lines of Colin Caulfield, an English/French lit major who's about to change what it means to be a shape-shifting singer-songwriter in the YouTube age.
Just ask Bradford Cox. He knows. Why, just a year ago, the Deerhunter frontman stumbled upon Caulfield's organ-grinding rendition of "Rainwater Cassette Exchange" and said it's "fantastically superior to the original. It actually sent shivers up my spine, especially during the second verse."
Believe it or not, that chilling cover was just a warmup session. As killer as he is at capturing the very essence of everything from Animal Collective to Ariel Pink, Caulfied's true talent is in telling his own Young Man stories. The first chapter of which goes by the name Boy, a deceivingly-simple suite of songs about wanting to grow up without having the slightest idea of what 'being a man' actually means.
Now that's a reason to hit rewind, from the tone-setting tenderness and psych-infused harmonies of "Five" to the restless rhythms (Caulfield was a drummer well before he became a singer/guitarist) and room-engulfing intimacy of "Up So Fast." Both of which feature some of the most hopeful/haunting choruses you'll hear all year.
And that's just the beginning, of course. Since Young Man was conceived as a concept project about the passing of time, love, and loss, Caulfield already has two loosely-linked LPs on tap -- a faceless collection of fragile characters that could be any one of us, really.
"A lot of it's autobiographical," explains Caulfield, "but it's universal at the same time, because everyone goes through these things."
Listen closely. It'll all make sense soon enough. Trust us.
Just ask Bradford Cox. He knows. Why, just a year ago, the Deerhunter frontman stumbled upon Caulfield's organ-grinding rendition of "Rainwater Cassette Exchange" and said it's "fantastically superior to the original. It actually sent shivers up my spine, especially during the second verse."
Believe it or not, that chilling cover was just a warmup session. As killer as he is at capturing the very essence of everything from Animal Collective to Ariel Pink, Caulfied's true talent is in telling his own Young Man stories. The first chapter of which goes by the name Boy, a deceivingly-simple suite of songs about wanting to grow up without having the slightest idea of what 'being a man' actually means.
Now that's a reason to hit rewind, from the tone-setting tenderness and psych-infused harmonies of "Five" to the restless rhythms (Caulfield was a drummer well before he became a singer/guitarist) and room-engulfing intimacy of "Up So Fast." Both of which feature some of the most hopeful/haunting choruses you'll hear all year.
And that's just the beginning, of course. Since Young Man was conceived as a concept project about the passing of time, love, and loss, Caulfield already has two loosely-linked LPs on tap -- a faceless collection of fragile characters that could be any one of us, really.
"A lot of it's autobiographical," explains Caulfield, "but it's universal at the same time, because everyone goes through these things."
Listen closely. It'll all make sense soon enough. Trust us.
