The Pains of Being Pure at Heart is rather painless, actually

Event: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart live in concert
Date: March 4, 2012 (Sunday)
Venue: Pentas 2, KL Pac

Even in dreams, they will not betray you. The New York quartet stopped by the land of satay and ‘lah’ for a show at KLPac as the last stop of their Asian tour. A joy for those who missed St. Jerome’s Laneway festival in Singapore last month as they get 1/10 of the line-up (and only around 30 of us showed up. Guess everyone made it for Laneway?). Organisers, we’re all still waiting for Yuck by the way. Take note please.

Of making out in the library and saying no to love, whichever they prefer, The Pains of Being Pure At Heart (or in short, TPOBPAH, which is still long by the way) rocked on the stage of KLPac with their pure hearts with intention of engaging with the crowd.

“Ah nice to see awesome band shirts that you guys are wearing. There’s one wearing Yuck, Sonic Youth, Joy Division! Thank god we don’t get any bands we hate… Like Nickelback.” Said Kip before the show started.

Although the 45 minute set seemed short, the quartet managed to wow us with their uber famous songs such as ‘Heart in Your Heartbreak’, ‘Young Adult Friction’, ‘Even in Dreams’, ‘The Body’ and ‘A Teenager in Love’ and played a 4 song encore, including Contender that Kip performed just by himself .

The bass could only be heard faintly. Still, the set was good. The noise pop/indie-rock quartet gave us a taste on what we missed at Laneway (for those who did not attend of course). The mix of catchy electronic with distortion somehow creates that stress free feeling when you get off work on a Friday or simply watching 500 Days of Summer and Summer never left Tom.

However, despite all the hype saying that the quartet is an indie-rock band, I have to say that they’re very much indie-pop, sounding a bit like The Smiths mixed with Yuck’s slow song writing style, less other effects, with that touch of reverb on the vocals and simple noise clashing on both guitars.

It was kind enough of the band to stick around after the gig for a meet and greet with the fans session although the drummer, Kurt didn’t show up for the meet and greet. Of course Peggy Wang was the star of the night for the guys. And Kip became the highlight for all the girls.

The awesome thing about indie-rock gigs are that the people are all friendly, the beers are cold and there’s space to breathe. Big thumbs up to Soundscape records and the man behind it, Mak Wai Hoo who made this all possible. KLPac for being an awesome host and providing ice cold beer (though the RELA guys weren’t too effective). And also thank you to Twilight Actiongirl for the invites to the show.

Contributed by Rizki Maulana (@rzmaulana)

* If you would like to contribute your reviews on concerts you have been to and/or new bands/albums/songs you have recently heard, feel free to drop me a line here.

Friday Five: 5 driving songs for the road

5 driving songs for the road
by Mak Wai Hoo

#1: Belong by The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

#2: Ashes in the Snow by Mono

#3: Postcard from 1952 by Explosions in the Sky

#4: Rubble Rubble by Gruff Rhys

#5: Under Cover of Darkness by The Strokes

W: Soundscape-Records.com

Glory, glory, Kings of Convenience!

Event: Kings of Convenience live in concert
Date: March 21, 2010 (Sunday)
Venue: Bentley Music Auditorium, Wisma Bentley Music

Sunday afternoon’s torrents of rain slowly came to mere drizzles. All over the country, thousands of football fans flocked to their nearest mamak stalls to watch the live match, emanating bouts of cheers heard throughout the neighbourhood with every hit and miss.

Whereas, a minority of some 1,000 fans travelled from all over Klang Valley – perhaps even the country – to an unusual concert venue just to see two Kings who came all the way from Norway. People with bobbed haircuts and oversized horn-rimmed glasses and too short hems of jeans, speaking fluent Cantonese with their similarly styled friends, as they sauntered into the venue. Not to be stereotypical, but I did not realise Kings of Convenience would actually attract a sold out crowd, let alone those who would prefer not to converse in English.

Security was strict that night, especially when it comes to cameras. Later, we found out that it was the Kings’ special order to tone down on the photo-snapping, even though they were flash-less. Something to do with the tiny clicks the cameras make. Erlend Øye asked fans to not take pictures in the first 30 minutes, but thereafter, it was up to our fancies, with the double-edged undertone of “that is, if you don’t mind bothering the people next to you.”

But, being Malaysians, cameras were still sneaked into the venue right under the bulky security’s nose. Some were iffy at first, whether or not to lift up their cameras after Erlend’s request. But eventually, the snappers let loose, Blackberry units with red blinking lights recording song after song – like little assassins, as if waiting for the right moment to strike the Kings down.

As jesters of the evening to entertain the crowd before the Kings took the stage – Tenderfist, a local synth pop group, which I am quite happy to say, sounds pretty close to The Postal Service. Why the world said Owl City ripped The Postal Service off, was beyond me, especially seeing that it is doubtful Adam Young even know who they are. But after hearing Tenderfist for the night, I am glad that at least someone – not to mention, someone from Malaysia – is doing things the right way. Ben Gibbard would be proud.

They were unlike any Kings in the world. Humble and modest, so much so that they opened their show with My Ship Isn’t Pretty – nothing too upbeat, just something as simple as the plucking of the acoustics to ease us in.

Erlend Øye kept the crowd close to his heart, pleasing us quite easily whenever he struck a few dorky dance moves ala Napoleon Dynamite in Sing Softly to Me, or doing his amazing trumpet imitation in Second to Numb, or got us snapping our fingers away and singing in a choir in Little Kids.

Eirik Glambek Bøe was less mobile as he had his own words to pay attention to. But he kept the crowd on little laughing frenzies speaking in Bergensk (I think), then blaming the sound system for speaking in such a foreign language to us.

Small jokes aside, Eirik kept us close to his heart too, serenading us with songs mostly from Declaration of Dependence, such as Me in You, Mrs Cold, Rule My World, and Boat Behind – which got the crowd singing along: “Oh woah woah woah woah / I could never belong to you / Oh woah woah woah woah / I could never belong to you.”

Also, not forgetting beloved ones from their earlier albums – I Don’t Know What I Can Save You From, Homesick (which quickly became a favourite for me), Gold in the Air of Summer, and of course, I’d Rather Dance with You, which they had Tenderfist up on stage again during the encore to play with them.

And what is a song about dancing with someone without actually, well, dancing with someone? Handpicked by Erland himself, a lucky fan got to go on stage to struck some Napoleon moves with him, and share his microphone singing, “I’d rather dance, I’d rather dance than talk with you / I’d rather dance, I’d rather dance than talk with you.”

Here is a video of it:

Personally, I thought that other song Kings of Convenience did with Tenderfist was better. I loved it when they got the crowd clapping along to Tenderfist’s synth pop beats and Erland pulling it in with his trumpet imitation and the lights in a colourful array projecting off the ceiling.

I loved that moment.

We had close encounters with the Kings after their gig. While we were smoking outside, a security guard escorted a timid-looking Eirik past the awe-struck crowd towards the loo, and then after that, Erland.

They were merely a breath away from me.

I guess this is what it feels like to be with someone of ‘royalty’ status – you just get starstruck and stand frozen in place, not sure whether to quickly whip out your camera, or open your mouth to say something – anything – and risk sounding like an idiot. I suppose days of mobbing fans were over too; security had only to whisper a quiet ‘excuse me’ to get through the crowd. No holding people’s hands were necessary, either.

It was a pleasure to be in the same presence with such Kingly figures, especially in a venue like Bentley Music Auditorium – spacious enough to house a lot of fans, but not too much that it loses its intimacy of such fragile bands. Well done, Junk and Soundscape Records. And of course, Tenderfist and Kings of Convenience themselves.

* Thanks Reta for helping to smuggle in the camera and take photographs during the concert.

Playing devil’s advocate with Mogwai.

Event: Mogwai live in concert
Date: January 21, 2009 (Wednesday)
Venue: Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre, Malaysia

If music were a religion, and in Heaven exists a God as long as in Hell a Devil lives, and every sinner that dies walk through a Judgment Day before the Higher Beings decide, then it must be true that in this InBetween, it is a concert, a post rock concert. And Mogwai are the messengers of both bad and good news. And this concert is our sendoff.

Everyone were like doomed sinners standing outside the hall, watching our past lives flashing by in front of our eyes. As the doorbitches clasp the white cuffs around mywrist, it was impossible that I could feel any deader than I already am. (Don’t mind me, it has not been a good year thus far).

Even when someone tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “Come. Follow me.” I followed aimlessly. Further away from the crowd to where his friends were. When he handed me a joint, I could only stare at it, say my prayers, and take a big suction.

Ah. The wonders of false hope.

The next thing I know, I was standing in the middle of the roaring crowd. Convicted ones swaying haphazardly with their plastic cups of sin, and snapping digital 3×5’s of this last moment in life. And inappropriate angels in green disguises roamed the jittery crowd, offering another sin to add to our list.

I looked up at the stage and there they were – Mogwai. They came with euphoric blue lights, pointing their guitars at us: “Sinners, be afraid. You shall be judged tonight.”

When the lights were soft and colourful, and the music was mellow and tragic in the opening of The Precipice and Scotland’s Shame, it was as if the Devil himself was making an appearance amongst us, brought forth to us by the band. The ghostly and incomprehensible vocals in Hunted by a Freak was like alluring caresses on my cheek and whispers of meaningless hallelujahs. I could only stare at the centre stage with my mouth agap and my mind literally stupefied. My body was too numb from all the sweet nothings to move.

A sense of liberation washed over me when the familiar chords of I Know You Are But What Am I? graced the stage. I could move again. But not on my own demand, but by the strings of the puppetmaster that is the Devil.

Coarsing through my mind were all the sad mistakes I have made in my life, and next to my ear he blew comfort. He said it was all good. What is life without a few joints, a couple of broken rules and promises, a bunch of lies, and a house full of skeletons.

If Hell is as good as it sounds, you said “take my hand and bring me there.”

Suddenly, He came. God. With the screeching lashes of Mogwai Fear Satan and the angered berates of Batcat. Gone were the solemn lights and it came bright white lights that would blind anyone who dared look up. I dared not look up. I could only lower my head and shut my eyes. Like a son cowering from his father’s heartless whips and shouts. He counted my sins and gave each of them an appropriate punishment.

The masterful percussion took over my heartbeat; giving it two pulses sometimes three whenever He likes, or just stopping it altogether just for fun. The screaming guitars tore at my skin and rattled the bones beneath it, as if shaking all the toxic out of me. The vices and lies and skeletons. I could only shiver along with every beat and thump and shriek. The Devil gave the strings over to God and He was having the time of His life. We were His toys, happy to oblige because of Mogwai’s superiority on us.

Then, it ended. The lights went on irregardless of the crowd’s second bouts of encores. As if God and Devil had decided you know what, we shall give you another chance in living. Go. Be alive again.

As we shuffled out of the hall to have a cigarette out in the breezeless park, we were left with a constant ring in our ears and left with nothing more to say about Mogwai but how awesome they were. We could do nothing more but to laugh automatically at jokes, shake hands and hug people we met for the first time there, kiss our friends for being at the concert with us, and drove home with half a mind, went to bed half a person.

The morning after was awful. It was as if the second life was more of a mockery than a blessing. You feel more like a zombie than a second man. No music could suffice, and you dared not try to find something to fill the empty spaces in fear that the phantom sound left in your memory would just disappear. All you could hear is that persistent ringing in the ear, and your mind going in turbo speed, rambling on about the judgment God and Devil have laid on you the previous night. You have that and everything you thought you have left behind crowding your mind like a fucked up broken record. No food is good enough anymore. No sound is filling enough anymore. Even your cigarettes taste bland and you thought you caught a whiff of the splendour of the grass when you choke on the cigarette smoke.

You do not want to go to work, yet you worry if you are doing well enough at work. You want to stop thinking of the things that hurt you in life, but you cannot: why is it always a ruin to me? Why is my relationship falling apart? Why am I so sad all the time? Why, why, why and million more times why… You just want to hide in the toilet stall, crying tears of release. Please. Take me back to that stand still where the real world is left behind and Mogwai’s sendoff is all I will ever get. You bruise yourself a little in hopes it will go wrong and you can go back to the InBetween.

But you cannot. That was it. And here you are once again, trying to put all the pieces together, but never ever to find them all in one place.

Damn you, Mogwai. Damn the euphoria you brought along with your ascending melodies and reviving bright lights. Now, all I am left is everything without you. Or at least give me the hearing for my left ear back.

* Check out pictures of the concert here.