When Ivy League indie rockers assemble, you don’t expect the conversation to turn, without prompting, to an extended discussion of hip-hop. But on a Friday night in a microbrew-serving Williamsburg bar that plays French chanteuses at un-intrusive volumes, Lexy Benaim, lead vocalist of Harlem Shakes, is comfortably chatting about just that.
Benaim, talking with fellow Yale-alum and Harlem Shakes bassist Jose Soergaard, as well as members of another local rock outfit, Vampire Weekend, colorfully declares “the gender politics of Wu-Tang Clan [to be] pretty amazing,” citing the Wu’s male-centric vocab, manifested clearly in their “love of comics and kung-fu movies.”
Vampire Weekend’s singer/guitarist Ezra Koenig and drummer Christopher Tomson are doing one better than just discussing hip-hop: they’re psyched about a hush-hush bill they’re booked on at Columbia University—which, it should be noted, is where they obtained their degrees—opening for coke-rap storyrhymers Clipse. “I hear they’re really cool guys,” Koenig states.
Clearly these East Coasters, humanities degrees firmly in hand, have well-rounded liberal arts educations. When not dissecting the stage presence of MF Doom, both groups are making serious upward climbs into indie stardom: Harlem Shakes from their howling, electrified opening slots touring nationally with Deerhoof and Tapes n’ Tapes, which one imagines leave but a scant few in the audience unconverted. Vampire Weekend has benefited from a steady jolt of print and net buzz, oft-centered on the sunny stylings of their afro-popped, ubiquitously blogged-out MP3 “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa,” a sly serving of continentally-seasoned and bookish indie rock.
The Vampire Weekend boys wouldn’t claim their sound isn’t deliberate. It’s no accident that Koenig’s six-strings ring out in a clean, classic tone. “It’s important for me not to have distortion,” he notes of the sound achieved for his jovial, sometimes circular guitar lines. While they do cite genuine afro-influences (though they are not quite the shrine to Graceland that some have lazily painted them to be) some of the hand-drummed, hard-panned percussive fun that colors in “Cape Cod” may be born of chance as much as necessity.
“I’m not a drummer by trade,” says Tomson, who ultimately took up the duty among the four piece. “I was supposed to be the guitar player, but we couldn’t find someone else to play the drums.”
Putting some low-end notes in-between Tomson’s occasional Congolese accents, Vampire bassist Chris Baio stretches rubbery, melodic lines on top of a solid underpinning, while keyboardist Rostam Batmanglij, who alternates between providing anchor-like harmony (see New-England-gone-awry tale “Walcott”) and more playful, left-field sounds (a recent live show had his digital set-up emitting some mellotron mimicry, and he also played descending runs in harpsichord mode).
Harlem Shakes, by contrast, rely less on sly interplay than an overwhelming, all-hands-way-in wall of sound. The quintet sweats and strides on-stage when most surely slack (a nameless mid-set waltz during a recent live outing proved to be a startlingly joyous place for eliciting participatory audience handclaps), and the set closer “Old Flames,” with Todd Goldstein’s insistent, kerosene-burning guitar strums propelling the group furiously forward, peaked the energy level at the last possible moment—releasing with cathartic cymbal crashes and low-end piano pummeling.
Layer on their trademark group backing vocals—all five members sing out with unified “Ohs” and “Ahs,” including drummer Brent Katz and keyboardist Kendrick Strauch—and an audience that may have unwittingly stumbled close to the stage is likely to turn shakily encore-insistent. But, having already brought out guest musicians to play heated baritone saxophone and French horn, with Benaim snatching spare drumsticks and clicking them insistently against the stages monitors in syncopated time, Harlem Shakes always seem genuinely spent after a 10-song set, and it would cruel to try pinching more juice.
Something the Shakes and the Vamps share, at least superficially, is notably high-pitched frontmen. They can both hit the top notes, and given how Vampire Weekends’ Koenig slides effortlessly into birdcall-ish falsetto on “Oxford Comma,” it is amusing that the slightly more nasalish and muddy-sounding Benaim laughingly recounts a venue booker telling him that he “should audition for Jersey Boys,” a Broadway musical centering on high-register male vocal-group styles of a half-century prior.
Benaim and Koenig, each unsurprisingly armed with English degrees, put those climbing voices to full effect, with lyrics that comically imply (and skillfully deride) education. Koenig takes particularly wry aim at well-to-do collegiate one-upsmanship in “Oxford Comma”: “Why would you lie ‘bout how much coal you have? Why would you lie ‘bout something dumb like that?” he asks, kicking the wind out of phony old-money sails, better still with his own yachting shoes. The central lyric in Harlem Shakes’ “Old Flames” is bitterly poetic but significantly more attached (“Your skin’s too thin to know about it”) and consequently burns its recipient degrees deeper when delivered as a rebuke in the odd twang that creeps into Benaim’s words on stage.
Consider it a miracle of the fast-paced age of Internet music that these bands, each just a self-released EP deep into their careers, are getting such glowing attention. Vampire Weekend’s EP is a curt three songs long, whereas the Harlem Shakes generously offer up five numbers on their Burning Birthdays disc. But with full lengths planned for the New Year (XL are officially supporting the Vamps for the near future, though the Shakes are still a self-run operation), there’s promise again that longevity may blossom in New York indie rock.
And they aren’t taking things all that slow. Maybe they’re joking (isn’t everyone in Williamsburg?) but back at the bar, Koenig and Benaim are speaking of a possible (hip-hop!) collaboration. Though he offers only “you’re not missing much” regarding his rapping skills, Benaim smartly smiles at Koenig and suggests, uncoaxed, that they “could make Gnarls Barkley type stuff.”
Perhaps such a mash-up seems premature and little crazy, but the pair quickly, straight-facedly assert that it’s not the first time they’ve discussed it. And really, why would they lie about something dumb like that?
Sept. 8, Music Hall of Williamsburg, 66 N. 6th St. (betw. Kent & Wythe Aves.), B’klyn, 212-260-4700; 9, $12.
Benaim, talking with fellow Yale-alum and Harlem Shakes bassist Jose Soergaard, as well as members of another local rock outfit, Vampire Weekend, colorfully declares “the gender politics of Wu-Tang Clan [to be] pretty amazing,” citing the Wu’s male-centric vocab, manifested clearly in their “love of comics and kung-fu movies.”
Vampire Weekend’s singer/guitarist Ezra Koenig and drummer Christopher Tomson are doing one better than just discussing hip-hop: they’re psyched about a hush-hush bill they’re booked on at Columbia University—which, it should be noted, is where they obtained their degrees—opening for coke-rap storyrhymers Clipse. “I hear they’re really cool guys,” Koenig states.
Clearly these East Coasters, humanities degrees firmly in hand, have well-rounded liberal arts educations. When not dissecting the stage presence of MF Doom, both groups are making serious upward climbs into indie stardom: Harlem Shakes from their howling, electrified opening slots touring nationally with Deerhoof and Tapes n’ Tapes, which one imagines leave but a scant few in the audience unconverted. Vampire Weekend has benefited from a steady jolt of print and net buzz, oft-centered on the sunny stylings of their afro-popped, ubiquitously blogged-out MP3 “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa,” a sly serving of continentally-seasoned and bookish indie rock.
The Vampire Weekend boys wouldn’t claim their sound isn’t deliberate. It’s no accident that Koenig’s six-strings ring out in a clean, classic tone. “It’s important for me not to have distortion,” he notes of the sound achieved for his jovial, sometimes circular guitar lines. While they do cite genuine afro-influences (though they are not quite the shrine to Graceland that some have lazily painted them to be) some of the hand-drummed, hard-panned percussive fun that colors in “Cape Cod” may be born of chance as much as necessity.
“I’m not a drummer by trade,” says Tomson, who ultimately took up the duty among the four piece. “I was supposed to be the guitar player, but we couldn’t find someone else to play the drums.”
Putting some low-end notes in-between Tomson’s occasional Congolese accents, Vampire bassist Chris Baio stretches rubbery, melodic lines on top of a solid underpinning, while keyboardist Rostam Batmanglij, who alternates between providing anchor-like harmony (see New-England-gone-awry tale “Walcott”) and more playful, left-field sounds (a recent live show had his digital set-up emitting some mellotron mimicry, and he also played descending runs in harpsichord mode).
Harlem Shakes, by contrast, rely less on sly interplay than an overwhelming, all-hands-way-in wall of sound. The quintet sweats and strides on-stage when most surely slack (a nameless mid-set waltz during a recent live outing proved to be a startlingly joyous place for eliciting participatory audience handclaps), and the set closer “Old Flames,” with Todd Goldstein’s insistent, kerosene-burning guitar strums propelling the group furiously forward, peaked the energy level at the last possible moment—releasing with cathartic cymbal crashes and low-end piano pummeling.
Layer on their trademark group backing vocals—all five members sing out with unified “Ohs” and “Ahs,” including drummer Brent Katz and keyboardist Kendrick Strauch—and an audience that may have unwittingly stumbled close to the stage is likely to turn shakily encore-insistent. But, having already brought out guest musicians to play heated baritone saxophone and French horn, with Benaim snatching spare drumsticks and clicking them insistently against the stages monitors in syncopated time, Harlem Shakes always seem genuinely spent after a 10-song set, and it would cruel to try pinching more juice.
Something the Shakes and the Vamps share, at least superficially, is notably high-pitched frontmen. They can both hit the top notes, and given how Vampire Weekends’ Koenig slides effortlessly into birdcall-ish falsetto on “Oxford Comma,” it is amusing that the slightly more nasalish and muddy-sounding Benaim laughingly recounts a venue booker telling him that he “should audition for Jersey Boys,” a Broadway musical centering on high-register male vocal-group styles of a half-century prior.
Benaim and Koenig, each unsurprisingly armed with English degrees, put those climbing voices to full effect, with lyrics that comically imply (and skillfully deride) education. Koenig takes particularly wry aim at well-to-do collegiate one-upsmanship in “Oxford Comma”: “Why would you lie ‘bout how much coal you have? Why would you lie ‘bout something dumb like that?” he asks, kicking the wind out of phony old-money sails, better still with his own yachting shoes. The central lyric in Harlem Shakes’ “Old Flames” is bitterly poetic but significantly more attached (“Your skin’s too thin to know about it”) and consequently burns its recipient degrees deeper when delivered as a rebuke in the odd twang that creeps into Benaim’s words on stage.
Consider it a miracle of the fast-paced age of Internet music that these bands, each just a self-released EP deep into their careers, are getting such glowing attention. Vampire Weekend’s EP is a curt three songs long, whereas the Harlem Shakes generously offer up five numbers on their Burning Birthdays disc. But with full lengths planned for the New Year (XL are officially supporting the Vamps for the near future, though the Shakes are still a self-run operation), there’s promise again that longevity may blossom in New York indie rock.
And they aren’t taking things all that slow. Maybe they’re joking (isn’t everyone in Williamsburg?) but back at the bar, Koenig and Benaim are speaking of a possible (hip-hop!) collaboration. Though he offers only “you’re not missing much” regarding his rapping skills, Benaim smartly smiles at Koenig and suggests, uncoaxed, that they “could make Gnarls Barkley type stuff.”
Perhaps such a mash-up seems premature and little crazy, but the pair quickly, straight-facedly assert that it’s not the first time they’ve discussed it. And really, why would they lie about something dumb like that?
Sept. 8, Music Hall of Williamsburg, 66 N. 6th St. (betw. Kent & Wythe Aves.), B’klyn, 212-260-4700; 9, $12.
