If you're the kind of person that uses their non-football-season-Sundays for resting your 5 Hour Energy and whiskey riddled soul, The Whistler has a show that ought to be right up your alley. WCR readers might know Julie Meckler as the one pretty thing about local junkyard rockers Rambos, but that band's horror-tinged garage stylings are a far cry from Meckler's solo work. The French-turned-Chicagoan chanteuse lives closer to Mazzy Star than to the morgue, drifting through travel-weary ballads with a haunting lilt and somber charm. Songs like "Mexico" are vaguely reminiscent of The Children's Hour, a magnetic combination of fragile guitar work and eidolic swooning. What makes Meckler's music captivating is the deliberate delivery of her words. Even in moments of romantic lament there isn't a syllable lost in excess or hyperbole- or to paraphrase Phillip Lamantia, there is never "a spoken word caught in its own meat saying nothing." If that doesn't have you interested enough to check out this free show, here's the video for "Manhattan."
Showing posts with label christian william. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christian william. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Show preview: Julie Meckler, 4/15 at The Whistler
By Gene Wagendorf III
If you're the kind of person that uses their non-football-season-Sundays for resting your 5 Hour Energy and whiskey riddled soul, The Whistler has a show that ought to be right up your alley. WCR readers might know Julie Meckler as the one pretty thing about local junkyard rockers Rambos, but that band's horror-tinged garage stylings are a far cry from Meckler's solo work. The French-turned-Chicagoan chanteuse lives closer to Mazzy Star than to the morgue, drifting through travel-weary ballads with a haunting lilt and somber charm. Songs like "Mexico" are vaguely reminiscent of The Children's Hour, a magnetic combination of fragile guitar work and eidolic swooning. What makes Meckler's music captivating is the deliberate delivery of her words. Even in moments of romantic lament there isn't a syllable lost in excess or hyperbole- or to paraphrase Phillip Lamantia, there is never "a spoken word caught in its own meat saying nothing." If that doesn't have you interested enough to check out this free show, here's the video for "Manhattan."
If you're the kind of person that uses their non-football-season-Sundays for resting your 5 Hour Energy and whiskey riddled soul, The Whistler has a show that ought to be right up your alley. WCR readers might know Julie Meckler as the one pretty thing about local junkyard rockers Rambos, but that band's horror-tinged garage stylings are a far cry from Meckler's solo work. The French-turned-Chicagoan chanteuse lives closer to Mazzy Star than to the morgue, drifting through travel-weary ballads with a haunting lilt and somber charm. Songs like "Mexico" are vaguely reminiscent of The Children's Hour, a magnetic combination of fragile guitar work and eidolic swooning. What makes Meckler's music captivating is the deliberate delivery of her words. Even in moments of romantic lament there isn't a syllable lost in excess or hyperbole- or to paraphrase Phillip Lamantia, there is never "a spoken word caught in its own meat saying nothing." If that doesn't have you interested enough to check out this free show, here's the video for "Manhattan."
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