LANY w/ Colouring at College Street Music Hall (New Haven)
College Street Music Hall
238 College St, New Haven, CT, 06510
LANY w/ Colouring
Tuesday, June 5th
@ College Street Music Hall (New Haven)
$25.00 ($22.00 adv) / 7:00pm doors / All Ages
Tickets On Sale NOW: http://ticketf.ly/2nKGA3Y
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?I?ve always fallen head first into any relationship,? begins LANY frontman Paul Klein, discussing the emotions that fuel LANY?s passionate, hazy and enthralling debut album. ?I only know two speeds: 0 and 100.?
The topic of accelerating from 0 to 100 might just as easily be applied to his band?s extraordinary rise. When Klein and bandmates Les Priest and Jake Goss put their first song online in 2014 they had no social followers, no fans and no photos; within weeks their lay counts were leaping up exponentially, and their take on modern alternative-pop was building up a steady following.
Before moving to Los Angeles - Paul, Les and Jake originally met through (rather than at) Nashville?s Belmont University. They were there at different times but knew each other as familiar faces on the Nashville music circuit. ?When we lived there it was still a relatively small town and you'd see the same faces the whole time,? Paul recalls. ?I'd know who played guitar or who played drums ? and I knew Jake, for instance, was THE drummer.?
By the time LANY formally released the first in a series of EPs the band had established their own lane on music?s crowded highway. Billboard praised the group?s ?lush, luxuriant? alternative sound when ?I Loved You? dropped; by 2016, and the release of Where The Hell Are My Friends, The Line Of Best Fit were praising LANY?s music for its ?swooning melange of gilded vocals, spidery riffs, and dusky synths?. ?Apart from sounding amazing overall,? Nylon added, ?the trio go the extra mile in everything they do, including curating their website and merchandise to fit their minimalist aesthetic.?
Much of the music that propelled them to multi-million-stream success was recorded out of aux sockets. ?It was very do it yourself,? Klein smiles. ?We were led by conviction and instinct ? writing and recording simultaneously. We didn't demo anything. We had zero followers on Twitter, SoundCloud or Instagram. We just decided: let's make a band, stick the music online ourselves, and see what happens.?
Flashforward to the summer of 2017 and the band have now finished a debut album whose recording ? vocals and instruments captured through smartphone apps, songs recorded as they were written then pulled together on antiquated old PC software ? reflects the spontaneity and impulsiveness of the love stories bursting out of every song. While it might feel counterintuitive for a band so rooted in modern music discovery to craft an album when headlines all around us scream about the album format being dead, LANY see this album as a statement. ?I understand our fanbase and I know they're starving for a bigger body of work to get lost in,? Paul explains. ?We're creating a world of LANY that people exist in, identify with and discover themselves through, and you can't do that exclusively in a four-track EP. The pendulum always settles. Right now it might have swung over to ?let's release a song a month! Let's never release albums!? But that pendulum will always find its way back to a centre where an album, for all eternity, will have some sort of value. Maybe even the most value. I mean I could be wrong. Who knows? We're all guessing aren't we??
For a shot in the dark, LANY?s album is something of a triumph, underpinned by distinctive, wistful lyrics that continue to set LANY apart from their peers. ?It wasn't a conscious decision to write such conversational lyrics, but I've definitely noticed most 2 people don't do it,? Klein adds. ?I know we're different, because people tell me we're different, but we never tried to be. The result is an album packed with truth, and light on ambiguity. ?Some writers aren?t even sure what their lyrics mean until after they're written, and only then do they attach meaning,? Paul adds. ?I know what I mean, and I'm going to say it. That's the only thing that makes sense to me.?
Fifties painter Mark Rothko, known for his large solid swaths of color, once claimed to have no real interest in the color itself or whatever form it took, only in expressing simple human emotions. In a similar sense, Colouring is the culmination of several sonic hues -- instrumental and electronic, pop and underground, heart and body -- but the aim is all feeling. London's Jack Kenworthy imbues his work with a wide-eyed relatability, whether he's exploring elation, obsession, or even melancholy over a swirl of lush house rhythm, post-dubstep atmosphere, art rock eclecticism, and sticky hooks. And as for form, the singer/pianist/producer isn't alone. Colouring is rounded out by bassist Dom Potts, guitarist Sean Reilly, and drummer Alex Johnson -- a lithe, powerful team for this mercurial but driven music.
It all goes back to Melton Mowbry, a small British town known more for churning out pork pies than gifted musicians. Jack's mom and dad were a psychologist and a professor, but both played as well. There was always music on the turntable -- her Joni Mitchell, his Cannonball Adderley -- plus guitars lying around and a piano in the corner. When he was about 4, just tall enough to reach the keys, Jack would use two hands to hit the bass notes for his brother's 12-bar blues. But he really wanted to play football or teach himself Beatles songs on guitar, so after a year of lessons on the ivories, age 6, he let it go. Then he heard Oscar Peterson, and his tiny mind was blown. By 14 he was collecting records, reading liners, and learning scales -- the littlest jazz fiend in the English countryside, or so he thought.
Enter Dom, 9, who ripped bass despite its being nearly bigger than his frame. He and Jack played rock and blues covers in various bands until they got serious about writing, added a member, and called it Kenworthy. But though Jack was of age, Dom was a 50-year-old bassist trapped in the braces-having, baggy-panted body of a tween. So they lied and played local pubs anyway. It was at Goldsmiths, University of London, that Jack met Sean and Alex and relaunched the band, in 2014, as OSCA, named for the jazz giant who set him on this path. He found other influences there too -- Caribou, Jamie xx, Atoms for Peace, and recent grad James Blake. Plus, Rothko and his Color Fields were eliciting unpredictable emotions from Jack. He was making beats in his bedroom, and his bandmates liked them: Why not just start over?
Colouring would be the name, of course, as the quartet forged their sound using all that old-school ability and new-school tech. They joined Interscope in 2015, as Jack was wrapping finals. Nowadays a song might begin on Jack's laptop or piano, or in a production mindmeld with the likes of Luca Buccellati (Yellerkin, Tei Shi) or Rhye's Robin Hannibal, and come to life with the band on the road. We could explain how, exactly, all that fits together, but the form isn't the point. What matters is the immediate undeniable feel of Colouring's richly layered, often joyous, yet still intimate music -- that, and Jack's crystal-clear voice, which gives the whole thing an extra layer of inexplicable magic. After all, it was Rothko who said, "Music must be miraculous." Actually, he said "pictures," but what's the difference, really?