Let me Tellier all about it

It’s not hard to expect Sebastien Tellier will assist you in getting tail. And I’m not saying it's for the first time in a long dry spell, I’m talking about being laid for the next 72 hours. I’m talking about dusting off the record player and closing the blinds for a few days. I’m talking about phenomenal neon cosmic orgasms and body melds like you’re fucking in a waffle-maker.

Mezzanine played host to the beginning of my Sexuality-inspired weekend with a man that is personified by the essence of pillowtalk foreplay and 80’s soft touch porno-pop-sex. As I slowly unzipped and opened myself up to new things, I heard men croon more than women, experienced wasted 20-something hipsters overexaggerate their relationship insecurities with “just pull out” inhibitions, all the while watching Mezzanine turn into a French bisexual disco Jacuzzi cootie party.



I don’t speak the French language, but I’ve always secretly wanted to be French. Screw Sylvester the Skunk, I’m the pastel blazer-wearing, true school electroblazing, Filipino version of Don Johnson from Miami Vice…but I’d have a Tagalog/French accent - find me as the token bad guy in the next Bond movie.

The song that really hit the G-spot at the Mezz show was “Kilometer” - filtered Korg synths missionary-style over Miami callgirl sex moans is WAY more amazing than His & Her KY Jelly.

Don’t get me wrong, the beard and Jesus locks make Tellier looks like The Dude or Tommie Sunshine; not so much the ideal “take me home cause I’m naughty type.” But game recognizes game, and even though Jenz thinks I’m lothario, Tellier's solar-shield sunglasses and charming French tickler persona gave me lockjaw. During track “L’amour et la violence,” I swear it felt like I was in the middle of a Power Exchange orgy. If you’ve ever been into American Apparel, where Tellier has his own line of V-neck hipster sex shirts, then you know what I’m talking about.

I’ve had Sexuality ebbing from my apartment since I got home Thursday night, and I’m sure I’ll be getting noise complaints from the landlord about how much my bed squeaks. The only time I saw the sun was when I turned on the weather channel to try and drown out my own verses to “Une Heure.”


Show review by Ryan Rosario

Photo thru Google

In his Relm

DJs are a lot more creative than people give them credit for. The shitty ones, of course, stand there and just pretend to do something (a la celebrities who think throwing on an iPod and hitting "shuffle" is sufficient). The more advanced use vinyl, mashups, stage antics and beer to make their sets stand out.

City native Mike Relm decided to go down the latter route while also throwing down his mixing skills live, in time, to video screens looming behind him on Friday night. Not a bad idea for one with nimble fingers.

I'll admit it is sort of odd to stand there and watch someone behind a turntable. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to dance or observe, but I was glad I did both. One of the things I like about Relm is that he seems to be and practice being a pretty cool guy, which includes intersplices footage of movies, videos, and random shit alongside his scratching; the infamous "O" face video did make an appearance as well as some homemade short films Relm did, communicating with audience via a tablet of paper and nothing else.

The dude definitely knows to mix; we heard some 90s grunge with some Ladytron, some hip-hop followed by indie, all done live in tune with the video images flashing around. Relm also dropped new single from his new album Spectacle called "Everytime" with the video he directed behind it. The slow-motion stop imagery, going backwards, and shot in a gorgeous black and white feel made it a neat watch.



Thanks for being a cool guy, Mr. Relm.


Photos by Kapshure/Berderp

"Sleeper Hits," by Ryan Rosario

Ryan Rosario reports on Saturday's Dirtybird show:

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After a serious herbal detox (not the drinking kind) from last Thursday night’s waxing, I plowed through for Saturday’s storm to catch Claude VonStroke and Switch blowout some bassbins. I’ve been a Dirtybird and Dubsided fanatic for a good minute, so my expectations of the show were that of a die-hard, dance-harder fan. I loaded my copper-colored Shuffle with all the songs that make me fidget, wobble, techno-juke, blip-slide, and ghetto-tech in anticipation of the night.

[VonStroke picture by Kapshure]

Now, I don’t know how many of you have been to a Dirtybird party in Golden Gate Park, or their occasional Friday night at Shine, but these guys bring it like a Benadryl and Vodka Red Bull uppercut in the gut. Techno squirrel squeaking on top of deep house baselines and sodapop drums at 130 bpm’s would make everyone from candy-ravers to hyphy soldiers bob their heads and tap their feet. Then there’s Switch, aka Dave Taylor, aka one half of Solid Groove, aka one half of Induceve, aka Modeler, aka shall I keep geekin’ out!?!

Nevertheless, Switch’s remix catalog is equally rivaled by his original production work with artists like Santogold, M.I.A., Diplo, Crookers, and fellow Dubsiders Jesse Rose, Sinden, Herve, and Trevor Loveys - all of which have been in SF over the past four months with the exception of Herve , who is yet to cross the pond.

By the time I reached the Powell MUNI station, the diphenhydramine and highball combo I consumed before leaving turned my reality into the music video for "Pest - Pat Pong (Solid Groove Remix)" as it was playin’ in my headphones. I walked into Mezzanine feeling like a wet dog on acid while anxiously anticipating the physical warmth from other bodies dancing the rain away.

"Get Your Soulwaxed," by Ryan Rosario

Ryan reports on the sonic blitzkrieg that is Soulwax+2ManyDJs!

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Have you ever had a Soulwax? A sonic laser removal of the flesh from your bones and mangled conception of reality into live streaming internet video? It peaks in “Phantom Pt. II (Soulwax Nite Versions remix),” and that fucking breakdown into silence that bugs the shit out of music snobs until they remember how much the final buildup of digitized bass licks and Roman Catholic chapel synths makes them want to geek like new tracks on blogspots. This is my first spot for Mezzanine, and I highly recommend this track on vinyl 12” over 320 kbps because DJs still gotta have wax on their hands.

First off, Thursdays are the new Fridays. There is just something about S.H.I.T. that makes me believe Part of the Weekend Never Dies. The hour-long documentary/video coverage filmed on one camera (f’real!?) during the 2005 through 2007 Soulwax tour/studio/interview movie was a voyeuristic endeavor into the core of Soulwax. It built me up and let me down like sex in a bathroom stall. “E Talking” was their 2006 music video that was banned from European television because it depicted hella kids on hella drugs being hella real at London venue Fabric. If that video was a hardcore porno, Weekend was the stolen sex tape from your next-door neighbors…best watched with 200 other people.

With a serious chubby as a result from that film and armed with a fresh Red Stripe, I was ready for the music from opening DJs JDH and Dave P from New York City. I LOVE NEW YORK DISCO TECHNO! They got that boogey-down shit on point like Republicans and oil. Their ’tween sets were refreshing for all the heads – enough to make me buy a red-eye to NYC and catch them at their monthly party called Fixed.

Soulwax & Nite Versions equal David and Stephen Dewaele, Stefaan Van Leuven, and Steve Slingeneyer. Their all white ensemble and proper bow ties let us know that things were going to get sweaty. My favorite was the LCD Soundsystem Nite Versions cover of “Get Innocuous.” I’m going to have that song stuck in my head for a minute, I’m sure. Instead of an encore, the Dewaele brothers decided to close as 2ManyDJs. In the day and age of recently acquired Serato DJs and Abelton live computer sets, it was refreshing to watch the Dewaele brothers bring the heat with real wax. Flipping records and riding the pitch control brought me to full mast as I suddenly realized I was poking through like a Florida voters’ booth. After a careful zip-up and realization that I was dancing commando, girls started sprinkling the stage. Everyone went COMPLETELY APE SHIT when the biggest dude in the smallest pink striped polo jumped on stage and shamelessly sang out his underbelly. As the crack in the dam that had finally been unleashed, soon the stage mob rivaled the dance floor onlookers.

This was my first live Soulwax/2ManyDJs experience, and I know it won’t be my last.

"MSTRKRFT - They're Safer Than Bees" by William Oliver Hart

We sent our good friend Will over to witness some lasers last week, and here is what he had to say.

There's plenty of things that want to kill you in 2008; terrorists, bored children, bees, the Chipotle Chicken Ciabatta sandwich at Jack-N-The-Box, that Black Hole Machine thing in Switzerland. MSTRKRFT don't want to kill you though. Thus begins my first blog for Mezzanine, entitled "MSTRKRFT - They're Safer Than Bees." I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this on the back of a paper plate at Fuddrucker's and giving it to my girlfriend to transcribe.

Seeing that I quit my job, I saw MSTRKRFT mid-week. Really, what else am I gonna do with my free time? Get kicked out of the library some more? Please. Annnyways, the two opening DJs, Congorock and Felix Cartel, both subscribed to the same vague aesthetic of EVERY SOUND EVAR (car alarms, sirens, the cries of hungry babies) that has the potential to be the crux of some hardcore booty-quaking dance anthem. This, like anything else cool, kind of requires a sort of Kirkegaardian leap of faith to appreciate.

When MSTRKRFT hit the stage around midnight-ish, it was totally satanic panic. Do you think you like lasers? MSTRKRFT like lasers at least 5,000 times more than you. MSTRKRFT sounds like lasers. Okay, imagine Xanadu plus rave-action, divided by American Apparel, times epilepsy, and you might have an idea what the MSTRKRFT experience entails. Let's just say I'm pretty sure that the people that decided not to gorge themselves on Dimethyltryptamine before the show felt pretty solid about their decision. It could've been a bad scene. Not surprisingly, these brosephs' mastery of iconography probably rivals their oft-cited peers Justice, but it's not exactly surprising, seeing that a KRFTR himself, Jesse Keeler, cut his teeth with Death From Above 1979, a short-lived band whose music is wholly forgettable but whose striking elephant-schnoz imagery from their first CD is forever burned into my brain. Oh, and I think they had some sort of semi-epic beef with DFA stalwart Jamie Stewart 3 years ago. I remember thinking, "This could be a dance-punk Jay-Z versus Nas." But alas, no cool dis songs were produced. We all lost.

Wait - what was I talking about? Ah, right.

There is a sort of hamfisted horror show schlock to MSTRKRFT's presentation, from the Jason mask imagery to the blatantly metal (re: verging on illegible) font that proudly adorns a grip of their new merch. Their face-melting brand of electro strum und drang is offset perfectly by videos of explosions, fire, guns, and boobs, a display that is artsier than I'm letting on, and that I can assure you is supposed to be postmodern. But like their music, it works just as well (if not better) on a very superficial level: it's all icing, all the time. Subtlety is cruel mistress. These guys probably get super pissed when they're bored. I've never heard MSTRKRFT outside of a live setting, and I can't help to feel that you'd be missing the point if you just listened to them otherwise. Omygaw, I just noticed we have a Pitchfork link. Seriously, guys?

The Human League is still, well...human + Hey British guy, way to be lame

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the dude of THL still sounds excellent live. And although I completely was the youngest person in attendance at Mezzanine Saturday (seriously...), I will always love "Human" unconditionally because it sounds like a love song and dancefloor anthem mashed together accidentally, and it was so completely perfect that it was the song that played as I walked up.

Iconic gems like "Don't You Want Me Baby" and "Fascination" also still are superb in all its synthpopnuwavetastic glory. And although the lineup as changed throughout the years and the art of the blips of synth has evolved, the Human League still showed me that my The Ladytrontatat Faints Chip would not exist without them. Plus, blonde backup singer Sharon was so fucking sassy with her sequined dress, I wanted to put her in my pocket.

But the highlight of the night was at the bar; being hungover as hell from the previous night, my friend Vroo and I ordered orange juices to sip on as we took a break from the dancing that started after The Human League took off. We got approached by a tall Brit in a suit who began working out his lines, and as I was trying to politely tell him we weren't interested ("Hey...it's a valiant effort, man, but no thanks"), he insisted he was actually trying to set us up to get to meet his friend. Having never been subjected to a wingman scenario, my interest was piqued and I nodded to have him bring his (presumably hotter) friend over.

"No, really! He's very cool, I think you'll like him. Be right back," he insisted. The Brit then grabbed Vroo and I's shoulders to face the wall, and we waited in silence side by side before we were tapped on the back to pivot around.

It was the same guy.

And I couldn't help but laugh.

Hysterically.

The Brit looked mad hurt, and leaned in between us with his arms around us as his face fell rapidly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked as I wiped tears away. "That was the worst set-up ever, dude."

"What's your comeback?" Vroo inquired.

The Brit seriously stood there for about 15 seconds and then said, "I don't have one."

Burn!

Maybe he listened to "Human" too many times...

Lasers?? Where??

I will be the first to admit that music without vocals never used to tickle my fancy. I grew up on a plethora of music (classic rock, alternative, country, R&B, hip-hop, rap), but the farthest extend to my exposure of voiceless pieces was when my dad would play this album during Christmas. Tragic.

(Actually. I have fond memories of that composition...sorry Dad.)

It wasn't until I took some music courses in my first year in college that I really gained a huge appreciation for opera and classical music, even seeing Philip Glass three times in one weekend (cue nerd music, I know). Since then, I gotta hand it out to musicians who create in a variety of mediums and with instruments-or-not, and even to the DJs who tour exclusively just to mix beats live.

Two of my favorite albums this year, Ratatat's LP3 and the soundtrack to The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (done by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis), are all noise and no vox. I am pleased to add Booka Shade to that list of favies, because German homeboys threw it down two weekends ago. I've struggled with how to write a review for them (how to describe two dudes on stage...hmmm); but I think to say that I walked in with no reference to the duo and walking out a fan is enough. Thankfully I had my good friend Charlie to provide me with hilarity and background ("These guys are like the Michael Jackson of German techno"), and we danced the whole time to the sounds of Water and Arno. Some highlights from the guys:

• Beating the shit out of a drum kit that looked like they picked up for Rock Band at Best Buy
• Hiding behind a DJ booth with what looked like a call center service rep's headset
• Lots of fist pumping
• Lots of jumping
• German accents

Also, when we walked in, there was a sign posted on the Mezz door that stated "Please note this show will have lasers." I don't know about you, but any show with some fucking lasers has got to be good.

And completely gratuitous, but here is what I thought the whole time because of that sign:

Booka, please be my boyfriends...

Tracksuits, wave of the future?

Datarock has some mad redness going on. I wrote about their antics over at The Tripwire, which you can peep at below if you feel so inclined. In a Spin interview last year they mentioned that their main goal in life was to get everyone to don the same threads as them; me thinks global domination via comfy apparel is spot on.

Christine over at aestheta photography snagged some stills from the show as well; check it out!

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Live - Datarock @ Mezzanine | SF

Here is my first beef with Norway's Datarock: dressing in frickin' red track suits means I think you're gonna delve into some grime or potentially a phat MC battle, not that you're gonna bust out an electro jam about girls with phantom penises or jump around on stage like a bunch of lunatics. (more...)

Mos to the maxx

Our own Christine Peterson snapped up up some cool pix of Mos Def; check 'em out below as well as a review of the show from SF Weekly's blog All Shook Down.








"Def But Not Dumb" - Mos Def @ Mezzanine - Mos Def -- the Brooklyn-born rapper, actor and host of the HBO series Def Poetry Jam -- played two shows in San Francisco this week (Tuesday at Ruby Skye and last night at Mezzanine). The performances were announced early Monday evening, yet the short notice didn’t prevent what felt like over-capacity crowds, particularly at Mezzanine. (more...)