R5 Productions Presents
The Love Language, Creepoid
1201 N. Frankford Ave
Philadelphia, PA, 19125
This event is 21 and over
It's such an impossible thing, at this funny little point in history, to not look back: We're recording every little thing with our cameras that make the little noise like cameras used to make; we're measuring our actual selves against our online selves with hopeful resignation; we're rendering and retouching the record of our lives at every turn. If it can be perfect then let's make it so, goes the wisdom of the moment.
To be fair, there's a certain convenience about perfection. It's easy to wear and see and swallow and enjoy, and it leaves the heart light. It's also totally boring. And though occasionally friendly and welcoming, literal perfection in pop music is never, ever awesome.
Which is where Telekinesis comes in. On record, Michael Lerner is the sole member of Telekinesis, more or less. He writes, sings and plays the songs. His love of Japan knows no bounds, though he's never been. He's a fantastic drummer and a fearless singer. And he does not look back willingly.
I mean, you can forcibly crane his head around in a pinch (mortal danger and Seinfeld reruns qualify). But Michael's songs are ridiculously immediate, and he delivers them with blinding velocity. His approach to music isn't unlike those spikes at the rental car place: Backing up deflates the tires, and not in a pleasant way.
It's reflected in Michael's writing, too, this philosophy of ever- forward motion. These are big-hearted songs, written quickly and from the gut. Telekinesis is the geography of dreams; a school year abroad; love letters from Liverpool coffee shops to the Carolina coastline and Tokyo and everywhere in between everywhere; a road trip waiting to happen. And it's absolutely perfect, but not because anyone went back to fix it. It just happened that way.
Chris Walla, January 2009
The Love Language
Friends and fans of The Love Language songwriter and frontman Stuart McLamb have learned to expect a lot, but rarely in a timely manner. Completing a triumvirate of spiritual transmissions spent lost (2009’s The Love Language) and found (2010’s Libraries), 2013’s Ruby Red exorcises the transient brilliance fostered by McLamb within the sheetrock walls of the album’s namesake artist space.
Featuring over twenty musicians and straddling several time zones, The Love Language’s lone puppeteer borrowed heavier equipment, and held on to it longer. Initiated in a windowless unit at the fabled Ruby Red, several failed attempts and false starts at a songwriting spree landed McLamb and his engineer/case worker/boxing coach BJ Burton in Black Mountain, North Carolina, consuming every square inch of a carpeted bungalow located a few acres too close to their skittish neighbors. Soon after, Burton’s relocation to Minneapolis effectively thrust McLamb from their shared nest, helping Ruby Red discover its inherent propensity for flight.
Ruby Red produces new standards for the Carolina pop songbook, finding The Love Language as an extroverted community art project made by responsible citizens of a loosely packed scene who know that McLamb will match whatever they contribute. The heartbreak is over. Now we’re getting somewhere.
Creepoid is another one of those buzz-worthy local bands crawling out from basements of homes/makeshift practice spaces/recording studios lately in Philly
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