Woom, the duo, just finished an extensive European tour and are on the bill with Beirut at some upcoming shows. Check them out. Woom’s angular, vibrant citron artwork (first discovered when checking out their Myspace today) matches the stark, playful brilliance of their songs. The band, vocally and percussively, is akin to playful Bow Wow Wow, yet further in your/their gut, let’s add on Clinic meeting Robert Fripp. Pop enthusiasm and dark humor is heady-glued to the hip of experimental guitar and deadpan, meet your maker synth beats. Guitarist Eben Portnoy is a skillful force to be reckoned with. Sara Magenheimer, singer and knob twiddler, is the coy kitty coo with a brain and mad sense of playing the sticks. From call and response bits to songs fully realized in their spartan, outsider’s edge of comfortable electro meets rock, Woom impressed us from the first note to the last. Discovery! Their new album, Muu’s Way, drops June 28th.

Eleanor of the Fiery Furnaces came out to introduce the comedian John Mulaney with a joke of her own, “what did the zero say to the eight?”, she said to the audience who mostly stared really hard at her legs, and sometimes mouth, but mostly at a lot of staring at the legs. Blame it on strange acoustics in the room.

“What?!”

“Nice belt [the answer]. John Mulaney is up next and I don’t think he’s going to fuck up a joke,” she says, as she left to a huge round of cheers from the crowd.

John Mulaney is too funny, but who wants a recap of funny? Watch a video instead, I got a lot of shit from John about being one of those boorish people who refuse to experience anything live while shooting it.

The Fiery Furnaces, musically and socially betwixt themselves, are so in sync that their unpredictable genius for turning a monologue-driven history of rock has become almost too perfect. But no. They never cease to amaze and surprise, and change up every song they’ve ever written.

Eleanor Friedberger is the fashion icon and mistress of a cool, fast tongue that just can’t flub up. Her Chryssie Hyndesesque voice, somber calibration and subtle assertiveness never ceases to amaze. Matt Friedberger’s guitar assault, so playful yet so aware and vicious at once, does a Janis Joplin on our souls. Their bassist/drummer combo is so spot on and electric that it almost makes you forget you are seeing a Brooklyn-based band and not Iggy Pop or The Who. Unrock stars. It doesn’t hurt that Matt never raises an eyebrow during the set (his concentration is infallible) or that Eleanor is fitted out in the best of crisp, francophile white shorts, suede oxfords and thrift store jean jacket. The audience is transfixed throughout the entire, generous set. Even the bowlers, much to Mulaney’s chagrin perhaps.

 
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