The Broken West Perform With Jason Segel Tonight

Hey listen, normally I wouldn't ask you to watch that piece of shit Craig Ferguson but tonight is different. You see, Jason Segel will be a guest tonight on the Late Late Show and he'll be doing a live rendition of "Dracula's Lament" from the movie Forgetting Sara Marshall.
I believe you can also catch a glimpse of his penis in that movie.
Anyway, it's a funny bit at evidenced below but the real charmer is that our boys in The Broken West will be his backing band.
Since they're cool dudes and since the scene is a hoot, you may wish to consider catching the broadcast or setting your Betamax to capture the proceedings.

The Broken West - Now Or Heaven

With the amount of time that The Broken West spent on the road supporting their debut I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On, one would expect the band to pull out the leftovers for album number two. Surprisingly, the band makes an unexpected left turn with Now Or Heaven and they manage to execute this sea change with an unexpected authority that will have you questioning how they manage to pull such a Houdini with so little free time to contemplate new directions.
From the sounds of it, the road deadened The Broken West’s sense of optimism. Whatever it was that they saw through the windshield of their van over the course of a year clearly wiped away that wide-eyed possibility and traded it in for the reality that the world ain’t always a pretty place. And when you pin that against the band’s inherent sense of melodic beauty, you come up with some remarkable results
This is nowhere more evident than “Ambuscade,” an exercise in the sudden realization that some of those you encounter could be “ruthless people.” Propelled by tight rhythms and a punctual bass line, singer Ross Flournoy admits by the second verse that “Hell, I know much better now/Took a while to figure out/Living in the lion’s den/Turned me into one of them.”
To call Now Or Heaven a “maturation” is an understatement. There are moments when the band sounds like a different unit at some points, mining more from old Wire Train records than the power-pop nostalgia hinted throughout their debut. It’s a bold decision, particularly when you consider the thousands of miles the band logged trying to win new supporters. No worries: there are enough recollections to I Can’t Go On to place it next to this one and the new sense of experimentation opens up big possibilities for the band’s output to come.
And let’s be honest: power pop…as enjoyable as it may be…has been strip mined to near extinction and Flournoy and company appear to have no desire to be pigeonholed as a nifty power pop outfit any more. While they were completely adapted at that genre, it’s clear that the wide-open spaces they saw while on the road instilled an inherent need to not allow themselves to be fenced in on their second effort.
With Now Or Heaven, The Broken West’s have found their aural fence-cutter that provides them with a chance to roam free. It’s atmospheric, layered with broad strokes of sound, and propelled by more prominent rhythms. What’s more exciting is its restlessness, the slow evaporation of their sanguinity since the first record. Not only did discontent stir The Broken West to make an album like Now Or Heaven, it helped make it good enough for the rest of us to want to keep following them, regardless of what road they’ll take next.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

The Broken West make their third Iowa appearance at The Picador next Friday, March 13.

Live Review: The Broken West & Centro-Matic

The Broken West
Centro-Matic
The Picador, Iowa City
9/11/08

Damn you, Picador! With your cool fall rock schedule, late starts and weeknight gigs. I’m married! With kids! I have to be at work at 7:30am! Yes, the idea of staying out late only to get up four hours later to get ready for work is a daunting task. I would only reserve this for the best of shows and since you decided to book a pair of recent favorites on the same bill, well hello lethargy! I also noticed a few other shows I wouldn’t mind checking out (Neil Hamburger! William Elliot Whitmore!) before I remembered that I was way old and unable to put my body through the regiments of frequent clubbing. That’s why I’m counting on you, Dear Picador, to book a few early shows so that I can get home at a reasonable hour….midnight is fine…so that I can go to work and be presentable without those noticeable bags under my eyes.
As it stood, I arrived home around 1:30 thanks to missing the headliners, Whoopee, choosing to see my original motivation: The Broken West and Centro-Matic. I’d wanted to see C.M. for a few years now…ever since being turned on to them with All The Falsest Hearts Can Try thanks to a nice write-up in an Insound newsletter.
Speaking of: Insound used to send out monthly newsletters with great reviews that were typically spot on. They got a lot of money from me because of this, but then the newsletters stopped. I’m not sure if they still do these, but since I no longer receive them, I don’t spend nearly as much money with Insound as I used to. Bad for Insound. Good for my wife.
I got there as the opening band was finishing up. That gave me enough time to sit at the bar and enjoy a beer before making my way towards the front. Robe was tending as usual and after a brief Q&A of “What’s (insert old Gabe’s soundman name here) doing these days?” a somewhat familiar presence sat next to me. Admiring another Picador worker’s Neil Diamond wallet was none other than William Elliot Whitmore. He offered up a few verses of famous Diamond tunage before pondering aloud if Diamond’s Rick Rubin produced album from a few years ago was any good.
I advised that the cd was loaded with anti-piracy bullshit.
Sorry, Neil.
Someone else I vaguely recognized mentioned that the same folks that created Heavy Metal Parking Lot made another movie of similar plot. The same parking lot, the same time of year, and practically the same results. The subject matter for the newer film was Neil Diamond and the similarities between his fans and the one focused on the original film (Judas Priest) was frighteningly close.
We both agreed that this would be a film worth checking out.
A drunk patron then said something to Robe that was stupid enough to get him kicked out. Robe let him stay, which may have been a bad thing as I saw him again during Broken West’s set right at the front, harassing people for no reason. I was in no mood to have a good evening spoiled by a big drunk retard, but no confrontation was necessary as the dude went back for a refill and was not seen again.
The Broken West I had seen before…same venue two years ago…when they opened for some local band while touring to support I Can’t Go On…I’ll Go On. The band was offered a truncated set then, which was odd since they were on such an established indie, but it didn’t matter much as there were probably only a dozen or so patrons that night. Bigger crowd on this evening, but still small enough to ponder “Iowa City! What the fuck?!”
I was curious to see how the new atmospherics of their latest Now Or Heaven would translate to stage. Thanks to a touring keyboardist and a new drummer, the results were fairly close to the album. The band seemed more keyed on the newer material and occasionally compliant with the older tunes. “Brass Ring,” the final got a fairly wicked rework with some chaotic aggression before reigning back in for a tender reprise.
Awesome
By the way, that "awesome" photo above is one of three pictures I got the entire night as the battery in my camera died seconds after capturing the back of The Broken West's bass player Brian Whelan's head, a blurry photo of Ross Flournoy and a darken shot of the stage thanks to not having enough juice to power the fucking flash.
Because of the four band bill, B.W. played another truncated set, but since the next band was Centro-Matic, there wasn’t a lot of whining on my part.
CM’s Will Johnson is one of those slight, unimposing dudes that you wish would shave, buff up, and become the famous star that he should be. It’s one thing to be prolific like Johnson is, but it’s another to be prolific with a high degree of awesome tunes. Johnson provides that…in not one, but two bands…and he’s still criminally overlooked even in these days of spontaneous communication.
This was the first time I’d seen Centro-Matic, so contemplate my virginity when I declare that their set bordered on transcendent. It’s not like they delivered anything precise or groundbreaking; they were just precisely the best band in the world at that particular moment.
The band started out with general chord progressions, seeming to arrive from the sound check and ceasing the moment it turned into a potential song. The band caught themselves and began their proper set, which seemed to be constantly spontaneous with the exception of the first few songs. I noticed Johnson yelling song titles over the din of the previous song, essentially forgoing the need to have any of the material on a sheet of paper. Pence is an underrated drummer….this seems to be a common thing in Centro-Matic…but the jewel of the band is Scott Danborn. Alternating between keyboards and bass, he provides the band with their melodic high-end vocals, the ones that rub the gravel of Will Johnson’s vocals into smooth surfaces and things of beauty.
One of the things that made this night so special for me was how they played…without asking…three Centro-Matic songs I wanted to hear (“Call The Legion In Tonight,” “Calling Thermatico” and “The Mighty Midshipman”). Throughout the set, Johnson jumped in place in apparent jubilation and frequently lifted his leg in what only could be described as trying to take that giant leap forward. He looked so caught in the moment that it is possible he had no idea that he was even doing this, particularly when his foot nearly struck bassist Mark Hedman who was stalking the stage at the same time.
Like a good music supporter in these days of free downloading, I bought both band’s latest and didn’t feel the urge to round up everyone to get an autograph. I did snag the B.W.’s setlist which makes me the proud owner of two of them now. I chatted briefly with guitarist Dan Iead and bassist Brian Whelan before I felt stupid a decided to leave. Brian laughed when I suggested that the new album needed to be different like it was because you can’t keep doing power pop over and over again. He said he was laughing because he agreed, but I still felt that I should just stop talking and leave.
I caught Ross Flournoy by himself outside as I was leaving and thanked him for a recent interview. At the risk of sounding gay, Flournoy is a sweetheart. Totally approachable and seemingly well read, Ross confessed that it was licensing deals that enabled the band to survive and tour after the debut, that they would never do a tour schedule as hectic as they did last time and that, thanks to high gas prices and a sluggish economy, the band would be taking a loss when this tour is said and done.
Understanding that times are tight for everyone, particularly touring indie bands like Centro-Matic and The Broken West, makes a few hours of less sleep than normal a little more tolerable. But when they also manage to exceed your expectations in the process, it more than makes up for any amount of shuteye.
Night Night…

The Broken West - I Can't Go On, I'll Go On

So a few months ago, a friend calls up and asks if I'm going to go see a band that I've never even heard of before. It turns out the band recently signed to Merge and, because the label is fairly consistent quality-wise, the interest is peaked.
A quick visit to the band's MySpace page proves to be enough to consider the drive to the club.
The review of their show can be found here.
Being a good supporter of bands on the road, I shelled out the twelve bucks for the band's debut lp which is reviewed below.
Recently, the SLF was watching Grey's Anatomy which is usually my cue that I'll have to go down to the basement if I'm going to be able to watch anything remotely entertaining.
As I'm making my way down, I hear the familiar sounds of The Broken West's "Down In The Valley."
"Hey, that's The Broken West!" I say.
"Shh! I'm trying to watch this!" Was the reply.
With any luck, maybe a few Grey's Anatomy fans became interested in the song and sought out the album. With any luck, maybe the review below will peak your interest and consider checking the band out.
They're proving to be quite the road hogs: the tour continues throughout June (with dates scheduled with Fountains of Wayne) as they press onward in promoting I Can't Go On, I'll Go On.

Given power-pop’s track record of posting lousy sales, it says something about any band that chooses it as their primary influence. The genre itself prompts such a primeval reaction among its supporters that it’s completely logical when a band gets caught up and starts bashing out their slight interpretation of it.
The Broken West’s interpretation of power pop adds a big tablespoon of their Los Angeles history to it, which makes their debut long-player I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On fairly unique for a genre that typically prides itself on staying close to the bone.
Don’t get me wrong: The Broken West aren’t reinventing the wheel here. Instead, the performances grab the wheel and take you on a journey down Laurel Canyon Boulevard on the way towards the Paisley Underground.
Previously known as The Brokedown, I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On features twelve glistening tracks just like a scratchy old Big Star record, complete with era-perfect production that make it seem like the year Radio City was first pressed.
Frontman Ross Flournoy comes across fairly nondescript in many of the songs, but the rest of the band manages to cut the slack with spirited performances throughout. The up-tempo tunes are filled with all the appropriate harmonies, rhythmic piano, handclaps and guitar pedals that one expects of the genre. More importantly: they know what notes and effects not to play which ultimately prevents I Can’t Go On from becoming less of a period-piece homage and more like a cliff note’s version of the history of L.A. power-pop. Or as Flournoy puts it during “Like A Light:” “You were right about me stealing all my songs/From the ones I never learned.”
Flournoy’s vocals are better suited during the album’s more intimate moments. On tracks like “Abigail” and “Baby On My Arm,” his voice blends perfectly with the overall mood by becoming “that guy:” the boyfriend sitting on some driftwood in front of a beach bonfire, unpretentiously singing and strumming an acoustic guitar while his girlfriend lovingly watches across the flickering flames.
The highlight, “Down In The Valley,” actually made its first appearance on The Brokedown e.p., The Dutchman’s Gold, a few years ago. Thankfully included here, “Down In The Valley” is a song so good that it segues perfectly into a classic like “September Gurls” and would ultimately stop you from being pissed if the rest of the album sucked.
It doesn’t. And I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On might be the perfect album to create some great memories to over the summer. That’s understandable: The Broken West sound like they’ve got some great memories of their own.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise
Band photo courtesy of their MySpace page.

The Broken West - Live Review

The Broken West
The Picador
03/03/07

One of the best things about seeing a young band making their way across the country, playing for small pockets of people who have never heard of them, is watching how they address these uncomfortable situations. It gets even better when said bands manage to win over a crowd through their charm and through the quality of their performance.
The Broken West made their way through the Midwest over the weekend, scheduling opening slots with the intent of garnishing attention on their full-length debut for Merge, I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On.
In yet another example of Iowa City fickleness, about four dozen attendees witnessed this Los Angeles quintet attempt to break through the fourth wall during their truncated set. Supporting Iowa City’s Death Ships, The Broken West lifted heavily from the power-pop long-player with the abandon of a band that seemed to honestly appreciate the patrons that managed to show up on this cold March evening.
After some obligatory Hawkeye pandering and after the inevitable equipment malfunction (bad cable), lead vocalist Ross Flournoy donned an acoustic and set out to capture the attention of those patiently waiting for the headliners in this four band show.
By the time the band started “You Can Build An Island,” the lurkers had shortened the distance between the band and the crowd.
Unfortunately, a pair of inebriated girls also shortened their distance to the stage, providing the band (and the crowd) with lessons of alcohol-fueled flirtations and inappropriate throwing of the devil horns.
I don’t know if their fuck me eyes got any of the fellas lucky, but the girl’s hand signals must have hit a switch that caused the band to kick it up a notch.
By the end of “Down In The Valley,” one of the lurkers barked “You guys rock!” and sounded just as sincere as the “Thanks, man!” the bass player acknowledged back to him.
After a quick review of the album, there was enough time to provide an unreleased encore, “Horse.” With more of a country-via-Laurel Canyon feel then the other songs performed, it proved to house a wonderfully memorable chorus (“Fuck you/And the horse you rode in on”) and was a perfect way to end the set.
The Broken West demonstrated to a small crowd in Iowa that they have the chops to make a lasting impression; now let’s see if the small crowd made enough of an impression for them to come back around under better conditions.
We’ll promise to keep the drunk girls away from the stage next time.

Setlist:

On The Bubble
So It Goes
You Can Build An Island
Shiftee
Slow
B.C.B. (?)
Down In The Valley
Brass Ring

encore:

Horse

photo courtesy of the band's website.