Live
< Land Of Talk at KCLSU
words by Sam Walton
So PJ Harvey trades her trusty axe for a piano, Sleater-Kinney implode on themselves and Karen O ditches riffs for fashion. Then Lovefoxxx and Tahita NYPC arrive on the scene and suddenly the idea of a sexy female rock singer is very 2003. If this is a source of consternation, thank the lord for Land of Talk’s Liz Powell, who snarls with all the poise and sass of her new-rave peers but does it all behind an SG rather than an 808. Powell wears her influences on her sleeve – a bit Kim Gordon here, very Chrissie Hynde there, moments of Stephen Malkmus so as not to appear too keen and the occasional Spektoresque overpronunciation to redress that balance – but despite that, her band still sounds very current, raw and exciting: in fact, as the three of them jerk around stage at the KCLSU it’s difficult to bring to mind another band around at the moment, or at any time in the last ten years, making music quite like it.
Sure, their brand of very American (their Montreal roots are deceptive – they should really come from Portland, Oregon) indie-rock is a direct descendent of early/mid-90s Sonic Youth, Pavement and the Lemonheads end of grunge, but it’s peppered with post-rock flourishes and as expressive a delivery as you’ll see from any band this year – at one point Powell even appears to shed a tear during an admittedly heartbreaking middle eight, while the rhythm section’s gurning throughout the set is a joy.
And while the aesthetic is certainly there, the songs aren’t too bad either. MySpace fave (does anyone actually release singles these days?) ‘Speak To Me Bones’s’ pulsating intro is as stomach-rumbling as it is rhythmically tight, while ‘Young Bridge’, essentially a noughties update of ‘Back on the Chain Gang’, and brilliant for it, is as taut and as sexy as you’d hope for from a 3-minute Pretenders impression.
It’s difficult not to hear Kim Gordon’s influence in almost every song in the set, but that’s no bad thing. With all the cool points being stolen by the neon-clads in the East End, it’s genuinely refreshing to have Land of Talk remind you of girls who play guitars.
Originally appeared in volume 1, issue 29 of Loud & Quiet magazine
