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Last night I saw a ghost.

His name was Casper and he had six friends with him. Gaunt, pale, wide eyed and otherworldly, Casper sang to me. He sang to all of us. Last night.

I’m talking, of course, about Casper Clausen, frontman of the band Efterklang. They played the Mercury Lounge in NYC and if I only had one word, the show was EPIC.

I remember the cavernous venue and the rim-lit players cast in red and green lights (odd, it did feel a bit like a Christmas present, but whether belated or early who can say?). I remember the TOP GUN t-shirt and the mustaches. I remember the girl, over there in the corner, the only one not moving around the stage like a doubled-over Greek waiter.

And I remember the music. The swelling, soaring, air tight music. Some old songs, and some new ones, but it didn’t really matter (although the new ones gave me that tingly, prophetic “album-of-the-year” feeling, seriously).

I remember the violin and the flute, and the harmonies of an angel. I remember Casper’s liberal use of drumsticks and kazoo, his persistently piercing vocal delivery and clever banter. On paper, this should have been a hodgepodge of instruments and sounds, all messy and experimental. And yet, in person it was harmonious and composed, and striving for perfection. It was more ambitious and yet more cohesive than, say, an Arcade Fire concert. How unexpected, and blissful for us all.

I remember the encore. Oh, the encore. The one where they asked us (very Danishly, ie. kindly) to sing a melody for them, which we all did. They flipped the script on us, and began layering their music over OUR collective singing (which sounded eerie and beautiful, actually). They brought the drums in, and played alongside our choral wonder.

And I mean that literally: they took the snare, the kick, the high hat, and walked right off stage and into the crowd, only to set up camp right next to yours truly. We formed a circle around them as their drumming got faster and faster. We tried to keep up our singing, and did a fair job of it. But Casper helped us out, wailing his heart out in a slick sheen of serendipitous sweat.

And then… it was over. We were all left breathless, in awe of the ghost who had possibly touched our very souls (I can prove it, my jeans were even vibrating. Wait. What?). I’m still a little breathless, if truth be told.

This was Efterklang as I never remember hearing them. These songs swelled and washed over us like waves crashing against a rocky shore. One song after the other utilized the same recipe of layering and building until we couldn’t hear ourselves thinking how amazing it all was. Only after it was all over could we make sense of that thought clearly enough to analyze it.

I have to go re-listen to Efterklang now, because the band I remember seemed much more carnival than funeral. More experimental than cinematic; but not tonight. After tonight, I feel like they deserve their very own orchestra.

And yet… maybe they don’t need one at all. Ghosts can be tricky that way.

Mp3 – Site – Myspace

This Saturday, March 28, Matt Taylor and the guys from Aderbat will be playing a short set in support of Asha for Education at Piano’s in NYC on the LES (for some reason they aren’t listing the event on their site yet). The venue website doesn’t have it listed, but it’s $15/person with 100% of the proceeds going to Asha.

A band I can’t find anything about called Come Together will open the show at 8:00p, followed by Cold Spring’s own Dana Edelman at 9:30p. Aderbat play at 10:30p, and Eighty East (think CSN&Y meets Slumdog) close the show at 11:30p. It should be a fun night, a good mix of bands.

Their Myspace page has the concert listed, and you can check out some of their songs in Mp3 form on their Blog.

Let’s all go! I’ll be the guy in the corner avoiding people and listening to the lyrics the whole time.

It’s not like St. Vincent’s previous album Marry Me lacked in the area of chillingly poison-sweet awesomeness, but if her latest single (released on Annie’s website this afternoon) is an indication of things to come, we are all in for some tasty treats.

This track is titled “The Strangers” and is somewhat of a magical romp through clouds both angelic and stormy, with a recurring line evoking the paradox of Annie Clark’s music. After hearing “paint the black hole blacker,” throughout the song, it’s hard to fathom the heavenly journey she is taking us through (note the Sistine Chapelesque choral bookends contrasted against the apocalyptic cavalry of fuzzed out guitars around the 2:30 mark).

Okay enough of my ramblings, just enjoy the song for St. Vincent’s sake. And get ready for May 5, when Actors is unveiled (or later this week in its low-quality glory, if the plight of Grizzly Bear is any indicator).

Listen to “The Strangers”

My daughter likes the new song, Two Weeks from the upcoming Grizzly Bear album, Veckatimest. Here’s some proof:

It was an accident, I tell you. A grizzly affair, truly. The dory just crept to the foreground, forced me to pull it from the black waters. If it didn’t sound so beautiful, I would have thrown it back, done an about face. I promise.

It might not be the best quality meat, but… I… just… can’t… let… go. Not ready, nor able. I’ll digest this one while I wait for the others.

Oh, and about the opera, dory. I was wrong.

In other news.