By Kendra Long, DJ of Friends Don’t Let Friends Be Hipsters
It started with Christa Gniadek. Well, no, not really, it started at WTBU that afternoon. Well, no, it actually started at WTBU a year and a half ago. The Migrant (he: lanky Danish type, them: bubbly Austin bohemian types) did an in-studio with Ali and I when we had that weird middle of the day slot on Thursday. A band of probably six fit in a studio fit for probably two. Their drummer tapped on a binder, if I recall.
Then I get an email, saying Bjarke & Co (generally known to all as The Migrant) are releasing a new album and want to have a record release in Boston, do I know of any venues and would we like to have them on the show again.
I do, it’s called my living room, and we would, it’s ten to midnight on Monday how about we record it Tuesday and play it the next week okay then cool.
Tuesday they (he: lanky Danish type, them: Mes) show up. Well, no, Tuesday morning I work, then I accidentally fall asleep on the T for the second time in a week, then we do the in-studio and have to go on air live because Pro Tools/the microphones/the world was acting up and I did not have the know-how to unbreak everything (my heart?). Mes (I’m sorry I’m misspelling it I’m sure but Danish is HARD) knew more than I did and he had no idea so if he didn’t know how would I? Right? Turns out the microphone was actually broken when we rolled up so in reality if they had just switched mikes it would’ve been fine but in hindsight everything is different so whatever world I’m over you.
We schlep to my apartment.
Then Christa started. She (she: petite Berkeley songwriter type) whispered and crooned through songs about family and friends and love and I don’t know if it was the mood of the room or the fact that we had 20 people jammed in a room with no open windows but it was so warm and lovely being there I felt like I was in a mental Snuggie of the best kind (fact: leopard print).
Then The Migrant sauntered forward, shoeless (socks) and fancy free (Mes’ guitar was actually a gift from his wife, a small purple plastic thing meant for ‘girls’ just learning what a guitar is, refitted to actually sound like a guitar, Bjarke’s guitar is older than he is). The new record (Amerika) is a little more electric, a little louder (sorry neighbors we didn’t warn you ahead of time) maybe even a little moodier than the first (Travels in Lowland). They played pretty much all of it, and for two dudes too big for a living room they rocked it pretty hard. Bjarke (earnest, eager, bright but never strident) managed to make his voice ring out clear over Mes’ electric guitar and the towel/tambourine/sock thing Bjarke tapped to keep rhythm. It’s funny, because peppered through the set, the duo played a handful of songs from Travels (Nothing But Clues, Gor Hvad…) and they sounded just a little different, but still fit in with the rest. Musical cousins. Old was when you wake up before your alarm and the sun is out and it’s warm but not sweaty. New is driving fast with the windows down. It’s still folky, it’s still melodic and simple but focused and clear…it’s just a little more Amerikan.
Then it was over and everyone stood up and converged on the middle of the room and talked, face to face (to chest to chest, because good god Mes and Bjarke tower) and that same absurd ease Bjarke has about everything won over everyone, I think. Mes smiled, once, I think, but it could’ve just been the heatstroke setting in. It was lovely. It was home and homey but not homely and Amerika is such a perfect fall album for leaf kicking I can’t even tell you so go try it out. Kick. Do.
Listen.
http://maidenbrainmusic.com/
http://themigrant.bandcamp.com/