YOU CAN'T SPELL 'ACERBIC' WITHOUT ERIC:

New Maximum Donkey Two Ways

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve decided to try something a bit different this week. I’m going to write an overview of the New Maximum Donkey show I saw at the Scene last Friday (two Fridays ago, by the time you read this). But as an experiment, I’m going to do it two different ways: first the way I’d normally write something, and second in the manner of a “regular” rock writer/blogger. Who knows? Maybe the way they write things is just more effective at conveying this sort of thing, so I’m willing to try it out. Here goes:

I. The Regular Version

Get Set Go and New Maximum Donkey have shared a kinship for years, dating back to a time before I was even in the band. They have accompanied us on several national and regional tours, and “the Donks” (our little sobriquet for them; it’s what we call them on tour when we tuck them in and read them their bedtime stories) are always a blast to perform with and just generally have around. I hadn’t seen them play in a while, which may in part be due to the fact that band members have been busying themselves getting married and joining the Highway Patrol and other piddling little “real life”-related pursuits. Luckily, just as my Donks-withdrawal was beginning to set in (I had a few weeks’ worth of ice cream and mushroom soup all ready to go), I found out they were playing a show at the Scene in Glendale. I jumped in the Summermobile (recently fitted with oil slick and smokescreen options–or, at least, a persistent oil leak and emissions problems) and headed to Glendale at speeds in excess of FIFTY miles per hour.

As much as I love their recordings, it is absolutely necessary to see New Maximum Donkey live at least once. They display the sort of easy, enjoyable stage antics and banter that can only be performed convincingly by a group of people who genuinely like each other and have been playing together for years. I can hardly do it justice with a written description; it just has to be experienced. Benny, their singer and guitarist, has told me that he gets nervous onstage, but it’s impossible to tell. He jumps around like a six-year-old on a Now ‘n’ Laters bender, in the best and most endearing way possible. The fun they’re all having is infectious, even to the most jaded and irony-addicted audience members.

Oh, and the music itself. It’s Beatles-y, also in the best way possible. The Donks do over-the-top goodtime party songs and unflinching pathos with an equal degree of catchy, hooky pop goodness. There are three-part vocal harmonies right where they’re supposed to be, and the instrumentalism is deft all around. A 40-minute set never seems like enough, but their regular closer–an unsurprisingly adept cover of “Purple Rain”–never fails to make me smile (this is not a shape my face likes making, but the Donks can force it out of me. My head usually hurts for days afterward).

This is hard to do! I know that, from a writing perspective, I should be assuming that my audience is completely unfamiliar with my subject… But I just can’t bring myself to envision a world where people don’t know about New Maximum Donkey. I mean, what purpose would people have for being alive?

II. The Rock Writer Version

Singer Benny Chadwick of New Maximum Donkey blends Iggy Pop id with blowsy Marc Bolan rock swagger as the band New York Dollsily begin their set at Spaceland. It’s hot inside, but it’s OK–I’m all the way at the back of the room with an ironic beer. My enormous Pavement sunglasses are on and my Decemberists belt is as white as the Dickens. Admittedly, I wasn’t paying much attention to the band–I don’t usually listen to music; I prefer to sit quietly and memorize band names.

As the band power-popped their way through a 45-minute set, I tried to decide whether it would sound cooler to say I was into obscure Motown B-sides, or blues singers Skip James had punched in the neck. I eventually settled on looking up minimalist composers on my iPhone, making a note to memorize a reviewer’s description of Steve Reich’s music so I could be prepared to drop a reference to him at a moment’s notice. Minimalist composers are probably cooler to utilize for referencing than Beethoven or Bach or… the other B-one. Is Steve Reich a cooler one to namedrop than Philip Glass? Must remember to dialogue with Pitchfork about whether they have a measuring system for this.

On stage, New Maximum Donkey were well into their fourth or fifth song, which combined elements of the Psychedelic Furs with the ironic fey-melodic self-deprecation of Apples in Stereo. Bassist Jeremy Keeler’s Bruce Foxton iterations mingled with drummer Tim McNair’s more Pete Thomasy delivery and guitarist Dylan Hay-Chapman’s Mick Ronson spacecore britsludge, resulting in a Baroque-noise-pop Iron & Wine OKkervil River Elephant 6ism of truly Magnetic Fields Steven Malkmus Nick Cave White Album. Janglecore rastabilly Raconteurs Twee-pop Paisley Underground Tulsa psychedelic blues Lou Barlow LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME AND TREMBLE! OBSERVE IN STUNNED AND PENITENT AWE HOW MANY BANDS AND MEANINGLESS SUBGENRE APPELLATIONS I KNOW THAT YOU DON’T! BEFORE THE VOID SWALLOWS YOU ALIVE AND SCREAMING, THE LAST THING YOUR FRAIL AND UNWORTHY EARS WILL HEAR IS MY VOICE RECITING THE NAMES OF EVERY PAST AND PRESENT MEMBER OF EVERY BAND IN THE SADDLE CREEK CATALOG!

Whew, I’m back. May have gone a little overboard in “regular rock writer mode” there. Anyway, the New Maximum Donkey show was good. You should see them sometime.

New Maximum Donkey can be found hanging out at www.squaretiremusic.com. They will also be played quite a bit on my upcoming radio show at www.isgoodmusic.com. So now there’s no excuse.

live show photo (on left) by Kristin Cassidy