Cursive's Tim Kasher calls new album "Fucking Brilliant"

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Cursive front man Tim Kasher has never been much for subtlety.

Be it lyrics about outright heart-crushing topics, riotous sandpaper shouts or punch-in-the-gut guitars, Kasher’s music with Cursive isn’t for the faint of heart.

And that’s the whole appeal — leave politeness for the radio pop, it’s time for torture.

So when the overstuffed Columbus, Ohio crowd spilled onto the low stage last night at dive bar/rock madhouse The Summit, compromising Kasher’s amplifier, he didn’t hesitate to speak his mind.

“I know we’re attractive people,” he said. “Believe me, the times I’ve masturbated in the mirror… But take a step back. I promise, we’ll look the same.”

What a sweetheart.

But the crowd’s foaming frenzy wasn’t unfounded — Kasher’s impassioned, atonal-as-always holler could peel paint. And for a band that specializes in uncomfortable, churning and chugging rock’n’roll, that’s quite a complement.

The stage at The Summit is about as big as a billiards table, but Cursive played gorgeously haunted as ever, with a set frontloaded with the driving “Dorothy at Forty,” the back catalogued wall of sound “Sink to the Beat” and the thrashing, twisted “Art is Hard.”

Unreleased track “We’re Going to Hell,” far from what its title would suggest, eased on the agony. The track is a haunted slow dance with Kasher’s falsetto of the title repeated over shallow, cymbal-heavy drumming and crawling keyboards — like U2’s “One” for the beautifully demented. The tune was a welcome respite from the organized chaos of the rest of the show, and the kids in the front, whose shins were pressed tight against the stage, needed the break.


Other new tracks, including almost majestic, fast-shuffle “The Hips,” found Cursive almost antsy — these Omaha boys are ready to drop a new record.

“All these new songs will be your favorites. This record is fucking brilliant,” said Kasher cheekily. “If you like Cursive like I do, you’ll love it.”

Around the halfway mark, Kasher, who often sang with his face contorted, his hands over his head, began to show a crack in his otherwise flawless performance of anguish set to melody — he was losing his voice.

After the band completed the wild, flailing “Some Red-Handed Sleight of Hand,” Kasher could barely muster up a hoarse, “Thank you.”

Inviting a 21st birthday girl to sing “A Gentlemen Caller” proved not such a good idea — even with Kasher and guitarist Ted Stevens’ help on the microphone, she was as outgoing a front woman as you could expect from a tiny blonde girl being accosted by 200 fans - she stood there frozen, half-mouthing words like she was chewing applesauce.

Kasher bolted from stage to grab a drink, and a minute later returned for a big, hoarse finish — “The Recluse” and “The Casualty.”

By the oft-repeated last line of “It’ll swallow you fucking whole,” Kasher’s voice had slid through a paper shredder and landed on broken glass — barely audible, more a pained, stretched whisper.

The band walked offstage. The crowd jumped on hoping for a setlist, a guitar pick, a vibration. A sign that what they’d just seen was real.

Photo credit: Dana Hupczey
Below: Cursive plays "The Recluse"

An Interview with Dustin Kensrue of Thrice

The bands whose singers are part of the Where’s The Band Tour, together, would make for a veritable hall of fame of emocore.

Dustin Kensrue of Thrice, Chris Conley of Saves the Day, Anthony Raneri of Bayside and, most excitingly, Matt Pryor of the Get Up Kids could make even the most resistant closet-emo kid week in the knees.

But with just acoustic guitars and their voices, they’ll strip things down for an up close and personal take on music that’s about as up-close and personal as it gets.

Maybe the least deserving of the emo title is Dustin Kensrue, front man of California post-hardcore titans Thrice. The band’s been pumping out fast, blaring, guitar-assaulting rock for the better part of a decade now, and it’s gotten better with each record — from a simplified take on chugga-chugga rock with 2001’s Identity Crisis to the atmospheric, outer-space bombast of last year’s elements-themed Alchemy Index Vol. III & IV.

Kensrue’s solo work, though, is straight-ahead singer-songwriter fare laced with his gravelly yell one moment and delicate whisper the next.

Kensrue called Gravity Rides Everything on his way to Thrice’s band practice rehearsing songs for the band’s next album to talk shop.

Gravity Rides Everything: How will the upcoming Where’s the Band? Tour differ from a Thrice tour?

Dustin Kensrue: In almost every way. We’re riding in a van together, which I really like. There’s no band onstage, so these shows will be more relaxed and intimate. It’s more of a gathering than a show. There’s less disconnect between the stage and the crowd.

GRE: Do fans often ask about Thrice on a solo tour, or do they focus on your acoustic work?

DK: It definitely started with a core of Thrice fans, but fans of my solo work are slowly developing. A lot of people are fans of both — and I will play a couple Thrice songs at each show, of course.

GRE: What pushed you to actually lay down your solo work?

DK: It just happened over time. Some songs were never going to work out as Thrice songs and I’d play them for friends. I just kept getting encouragement to make a full record [Note: Kensrue released his solo debut, Please Come Home, in 2007].

GRE: Is it refreshing to be alone onstage, to be more revealed to the audience?

DK: I like the fact that there’s not as much going on, dynamically and vocally. I’m a little free rto take a song where it feels like going. I can take it down, bring it up, change it all on the fly. It’s also a way for me to really focus on singing.

GRE: How has your songwriting developed from Identity Crisis to Alchemy Index and through your solo work?

DK: I’ve always been able to write decent lyrics, but I’ve gotten more consistent. There are some songs even on our first EP [1999’s First Impressions] that make me think, ‘Now those are some good lyrics.’ I’m more consistently proud of my writing now, though. Musically, we’ve all gotten into more and more diverse music. It made us appreciate more aspects of music than loud, fast and heavy.

GRE: Are there any career goals you’ve yet to reach?

DK: We’ve never been a goal oriented band — even less with me as a solo artist. I don’t want to get caught up in looking at it from that angle. If you have goals, you need to think about what it’ll take to make them happen, and that ends up overshadowing the music. That’s never our priority. But we are working on a new record for the fall, and I’ll be recording a new solo record for this summer.

GRE: It’s hard to think about summer now — it’s about seven degrees in Pittsburgh.

DK: Jesus, man. It’s about 80 degrees here. I wish we could share our warmth and cold and we’d both be cool.

For the emo faithful (much as I try, I can't resist), here are the tour dates:

Jan 21: Dekalb, IL @ The House Cafe

Jan 22: East Lansing, MI @ Union Ballroom

Jan 23: Columbus, OH @ The Basement

Jan 24: Pittsburgh, PA @ Mr Smalls Theatre

Jan 25: Cleveland Heights, OH @ The Grog Shop

Jan 27: Memphis, TN @ The Hi-Tone

Jan 28: Nashville, TN @ Rocketown

Jan 29: Covington, KY @ Mad Hatter Club

Jan 30: Pontiac, MI @ The Crofoot Pike Room

Jan 31: Chicago, IL @ Subterranean

Will Puffy Soften "Notorious"?

As a tiny, Jewish suburban white boy growing up in Amish country Pennsylvania, I always felt that Notorious B.I.G. spoke directly to me.

When he would rap, “It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up Magazine,” I would sub in Newsweek and nod along, occasionally saying aloud, “Bay-beh, Bay-beh.”

Like a giant father figure, his slow, syrupy voice came through my stereo speakers and told me to get off my boney ass and make something of myself. And I took his advice to heart, quickly rising to prominence as the premier hip-hop superstar of my generation, selling millions of records about hustling the streets, being kind to my moms and getting with mad bitches.

Ok, so that last part isn’t exactly the truth, but Notorious B.I.G.’s influence on music, hip-hop fans and (truthfully) me was undeniably huge — bigger than the man himself.

And now, 12 years after he was tragically gunned down in L.A., he’ll be further immortalized in the new biographic flick “Notorious,” which opens this week.

Biggie isn’t the first famous music star to have his story told through film, and he certainly won’t be the last, but his flick is an interesting case.

First off, his story is certainly one of the more recent ones to be committed to the silver screen. “Ray” followed Ray Charles through his childhood and young adulthood in the pre-rock’n’roll South. “Walk the Line” saw Johnny Cash shrouded in black through the late 60s, but went no further.

Now there have been semi-biographical movies portraying more recent stories — most notably Eminem’s “8 Mile” and 50 Cent’s “Get Rich or Die Trying.”

But here’s the difference as I see it — the older-story biopics work because they portray a world far removed from where we are now. The country music touring circuit in the 1950’s, for example, is a far cry from that of today. The newer-story biopics, thus far, have portrayed artists before they made it big, similarly portraying views of the artists that are far from our conceptions. 50 Cent’s flick, for example, attempted to realize the near-mythic proportion back story he’d been writing about for years.

With “Notorious,” though, we’ve got a slight change — sure, the movie does portray Biggie’s background and upbringing, but also his success, and in doing so shows characters that are still in the spotlight today. Can we take seriously a flick with an actor playing P. Diddy the confidante and producer before he became the media whore that we know so well? Can we take a Lil’ Kim character seriously, or will it be tragic to watch her pre-fame character knowing that today, she’s all but washed up.

Will the movie be good? Sure, probably. Biggie’s story of rise to fame from a childhood of drug deals and ghetto life is inspiring, no doubt, and the mystique surrounding the man is, while not as vibrant as Tupac’s, certainly intriguing.

But wouldn’t we believe the flick if filmmakers had waited a few more years, or, say, 10, to release it. Not because Biggie isn’t a legend already — he is — but because so many of his surrounding characters are still in the news daily. We need time to separate ourselves from the world of Biggie so that when his movie does drop, it is, like “Ray” or “Walk the Line,” an entirely different world full of nostalgic references, musical memories and a soundtrack of “I remember that track!” moments.

On the flip side, Jamal Woolard, the actual Brooklyn rapper who plays Biggie, is eerily right on. His penguin-like swagger, his slow drawl and deep voice are like the ghost of Christopher Wallace hitting the screen. He’s not the problem here — it’s the secondary characters that worry me.

The movie will probably kill at the box office, launch the career of Woolard and boost the already successful post-mortem career of B.I.G., but I can’t help but wonder — are we ready to see Mr. Making the Band as Mr. Making the Biggie?

We Are One: Obama's Concert Forgoes Cheesy Patriotism and Kicks Ass

Sure, mainstream rock music can be trite. Sure, it can be uninspired. But standing only 100 yards from the giant stage on the Lincoln Memorial for the Opening Ceremony Concert of the Inauguration, I was thinking of anything but indie cred.

This afternoon, in front of an estimated 300,000 people spread from the base of the Memorial all the way to the steps of the Washington Monument, an amazing array of musicians rocked inauguration-appropriate songs in a near-two hour extravaganza.

Obama, the man of the hour (and day, and week, and year and next four years) sat with his family - his daughters snapping digital photos and leaning on their dad - sat protected from the front by a square glass encasing and from the back by snipers atop the Lincoln Memorial.

Inaugurations aren't child's play.

Obama also showed his true rock'n'roll colors during the program. He grinned and sang along, looking like he'd rather have had a guitar than a seat.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

After the Jumbotrons had finished playing another will.i.am-organized celeb-fest video (including, awkwardly, Seinfeld's Jason Alexander wringing his fists and singing along with faux white boy soul), the program started with an epic orchestral performance of Aaron Copeland's "Fanfare for the Common Man."

The sound coming from the crowd is impossible to accurately describe. It wasn't loud, exactly, as I was regrettably far from the thousands and thousands of cheerers. But it was absolutely massive - like standing far away, word wide thunderstorm. The sound was everywhere, all encompassing; it swallowed us all whole.

Denzel Washington spoke briefly and then - magic.

Bruce Springsteen, with an acoustic guitar and an entire gospel choir, singing "The Rising." The song was perfect, the moment epic. The Boss was in charge. The song's "La, la, la" refrain shot above the crowd, higher and higher; Springsteen's face strained, his voice scratchy and bold as ever.

I'm not one for sentimentality, so let's just say that the cold weather made my eyes water.

The Boss' performance set the stage for all that would come - basically, accomplished musicians singing not to the crowd, not to Obama, but to the feeling that so many people had come together to celebrate, to sing and dance, to (Note: please excuse, again, sentimentality) shake at the power of rock'n'roll.

James Taylor and John Legend, kings of the Middle-of-the-Road, hit it with a feel-good "Shower the People."

John Mellencamp, king of the Comeback-via-American-Pride-Flaunting, actually impressed with - bet you didn't see this coming! - "Pink Houses," with it's refrain of "Ain't that America for you and me?" But, truthfully, sing-along was just right for the mood of togetherness and unity, even if it does only last a few days.

In the surprise of the day, Garth Brooks (yes, Garth Brooks), sang "American Pie," and it was awesome. Honestly, I never would've expected to write "Garth Brooks" and "awesome" in the same sentence, unless they were separated by "is not," but the man puts on a great show, and his voice and energy was nothing short of rousing.

Then Brooks dove into The Isley Brother's "Shout," and shit went crazy.

The only artist who acted too cool for his own good was Usher, who undeservingly performed "Higher Ground" with pop princess/annoying voiced Shakira and living soul god Stevie Wonder. Were the former two have been bypassed for, say, only Stevie Wonder, the moment would've been Wonder-full (awkward pause) and much better.

Wonder even sang "O-ba-ma" as the song faded out.


U2 are not American, but they'd like you to forget that.

Bono has more American pride than an Alabama high school football coach with a bald eagle tattoo and a "Support the Troops" bumper sticker.

The band hit with "Pride (In the Name of Love)," honoring Martin Luther King, Jr. For a band that loves to overdo it, the performance was subdued, appropriate. Bono shouted, his day job as a worldly peacekeeper and motivational speaker shining through, "On Tuesday, this dream comes to pass."

But no rock star could outshine Obama, and he spoke with the dignity and gravity we've come to expect.

"There is no obstacle that can stand in the way of millions of voices calling for change," he said. "Together, we can rally as one nation, as one people."

Springsteen and -what!? - Pete Seeger playing Woody Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land." Seeger is 89 years old and can still shred on the banjo.

As the tune ended, Seeger, old and visibly weak, raised his hands above his head. His arms shook, his face overjoyed.

Music is a powerful thing.

The whole she-bang ended with a Beyonce-led "America the Beautiful," joined by the cast of the whole program. She kept vocal acrobatics to a minimum, allowing the focus to rest on the sheer impact of the filled-stage visual. It worked - even the press pit was swaying and singing along.

Where We Are One could've been a gawky parade of celebrity flash, it never took focus away from the matter at hand - we'd come to celebrate a new chapter in American History. The stars knew it, the crowd knew it and Obama, bearing his rock'n'roll soul throughout the day, showed it in his broad smile, the weight of the world resting a little lighter on his shoulders.

Music is a powerful thing.

Photo credits: Kevin Mazur/HBO

The Inauguration Opening Ceremony Concert

I'm still letting the gravity of Obama's opening ceremony concert sink in - and it ended almost four hours ago.

Wedged in the press section, I was no more than 100 yards from the likes of Bruce Springsteen, U2, John Mellencamp, Beyonce, Usher and, by far the most incredible to be near, Stevie Wonder.

Yes, Stevie Wonder.

I'll have a full run down of the concert extravaganza soon. Or, rather, as soon as I can get out of Cosi's and sit down with my own computer. Stay tuned.