OSLO

at the Key Club, May 24



Record labels are only recently realizing that not every post-college-age buyer
is satiated by R.E.M. best-ofs or Pixies re-releases; there’s an untapped market
of Jetta-setters who crave new guitar music that resonates with their experience.
Hence the industry buzz around local acts like Orson, and tonight’s main event,
Oslo — essentially Mattia Borrani (vocals/guitar), No Doubt touring multi-instrumentalist
Gabrial McNair (guitar/vocals) and Kerry James (bass), augmented onstage by
drummer Joey Barnes and keysman Damon Ramirez.



As on their recent debut disc, Oslo get under way with the constellation guitar,
Peter Hook–ish bass and detached vocals of “The Stranger,” an entrancing piece
of songcraft and arrangement, but straight from the files of Interpol. “My Soul”
shows more personality: dance-inspired beats, Cure-ish guitar; imagine Ian Curtis
(after a few lessons) singing.



Beneath ethereal washes, Oslo’s presentation is more elegant than energized,
though the self-aware Mattia, in carefully torn T-shirt, indulges in some welcome
angst-Pilates and Reznor-ish microphone-hanging. He’s an effective, if affected,
focus between the upright James and the dread-hawked McNair, who becomes the
inner self of his all-skanking No Doubt persona. Oslo reheat Blur’s lost-boy
longing with “Minute Gun,” then overcook it with “For All It’s Worth” ’s ludicrous
London accent and shabby Coxon-ite guitar, before finishing firmly with the
segmented, majestic menace of “One Last Fling.”



Oslo’s strength is fusing ’80s guitar pop with the “Bristol Sound” beats and
electronica of Tricky, Portishead and Massive Attack, to spawn a hi-fi hybrid
that’s driving and melodramatic, yet evocative and danceable. The problem is
that, while Oslo steeped this sound for four years, others (Puressence, Interpol)
microwaved similar recipes straight to radio, leaving our lads playing catch-up.
But who needs that game? Oslo have the chops, tunes and aura to influence rather
than be influenced. It’s time for a liberating leap into originality’s embrace.



—Paul Rogers



AND YOU WILL KNOW US BY THE TRAIL OF DEAD,
(THE INTERNATIONAL) NOISE CONSPIRACY

at the Wiltern, May 26



The excess and bluster of rock shows past has mostly become an ironic smile,
a tongue-in-cheek guitar windmill, a self-conscious headbang. Fortunately, bands
like Austin’s Trail of Dead still smash their equipment and frantically pump
their fists without a trace of self-reflective rumination. In spite of their
weak recent release, Worlds Apart, TOD’s homage to punk and indie
rock of yore finds its way easily onstage, especially in front of a highly appreciative
crowd.



The night began with Sweden’s (The International) Noise Conspiracy, all matching
uniforms, raised-fist “rawk” swagger and revolutionary garage anthems. Though
INC highlighted their left-wing politics, even more inspiring was singer Dennis
Lyxzen’s patented move — throwing his mike in the air and bouncing it off his
crotch.



TOD took the stage next. The Wiltern is a long way from the Fold, the band’s
L.A. stop just a few years ago, but this six-piece incarnation filled it out.
Furious hardcore muscle spasms of throttle-rock mixed with pot-haze slow burners
are their bread and butter. These dynamic shifts played out effectively live,
as Conrad Keely and Jason Reece switched from guitar to drums to vocals often
throughout the set, storming through songs like “Another Morning Stoner” (outstanding!)
and “Will You Smile Again?” (uninspiring!). The guitar smashing began midway
through the show (bless those major-label bucks; replacement guitars ain’t cheap)
and continued to a drum-trashing finale. Destruction is entertaining, but the
apex came in the form of an invitation — readily accepted by what looked like
half the audience — for the kids to climb up onstage for the last song. Yes,
despite all their faults, TOD brought the rock, a concept they obviously
still believe in.

—Jonah Flicker