Filed under: Events, Music | Tags: hoboken, indie rock, jenny lewis, maxwell's, morgan nagler, Rilo Kiley, swim, the whispertown 2000, vanesa corbala
Roommate and myself, having been longtime fans of indie-rock-woman-thrush Rilo Kiley, have followed the band in a near biblical way since they first graced our ears back in the early years of collegedom. Having frequented many a show, we soon became privy to their comrade band Whispertown 2000, a raspy, melodic grass-roots ditty fronted by Jenny Lewis’ longtime compadre Morgan Nagler. Having witnessed the near-birth of the band, we opined that the folksy quartet made for a kitschy guilty pleasure, but that the sparse and waivering vocals, tweedle-dee-picked guitar, and sloppy instrumentation colored the band green and a bit wet behind the ears. However, there was something there – something underlyingly wonderful to it all, something that made you tap your toes in bed at night and mimick Morgan’s flustering blustery voice. We quickly shed all notions that Whispertown 2000 was not a band to be taken seriously, and we began to listen to them with the car windows down for all the world to hear.
The year 2006 brought the band’s debut album, aptly titled “Livin’ In a Dream,” so we archived the archaic analog bootlegs we had snatched from early shows and enjoyed the stereophonic version for a change. The band would continue to tout about under the success of their high-profile friends, telling tales of mountain men and wishing wells while making the underground world stamp and stomp along. But in 2008, [The] Whispertown 2000 (strangely adding an article prefix) released “Swim,” a taut, tight wall of sound reminiscent of swaying cattails and sullied whiskey jars, and they began to join the big leagues.
So after years of favoring the west coast, The Whispertown decided to join forces with indie darling Maria Taylor (formerly of Azure Ray) and hit Maxwell’s in Hoboken for a short set. We followed suit and made the trek, only to be bowled over by their impressive growth and full sound mirrored by depth of soul and purpose. Their songs spoke of woe and hope, death and depravity – both haunting and sweet. The intertwined voices of Morgan and songbird Vanesa Corbala creep out of clarity bell to the sandy soot of New Mexico and echo off the Rio Grande. It was a beautiful poison that sank into our ears for that short half an hour – and their appearance, an adorable candid Polaroid of Morgan flexing her musical marksmanship, and a delectable sliver of Maxwell’s fried brie made the trip more than worthwhile. Throw back a six pack in the afterlife!
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depravity and gravity have always got a grasp on me. 