Music Blogs

A great philosopher once said that life is for the living. With that in mind, I ventured out with a friend to see hot Brit buzz band White Lies, previously tipped in this space, perform live Tuesday (April 14) night at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. It's a graveyard of some note to the music world. Both Johnny and Dee Dee Ramone rest there, as does, I believe, my own grandmother, although she wasn't much of a musician.

It's also been the site of previous music industry events. In the early '90s, I witnessed Rick Rubin ceremoniously bury the name Def American--after the word "def" turned up in the dictionary--at a mock funeral officiated by the Reverend Al Sharpton.

Considering the fact White Lies debut album is called To Lose My Life, the first cut is titled "Death," and its members have a penchant for wearing nothing but black, the ghostly setting made some sense, but it also reeked of shtick. Whatever the case, I was happy to attend the private event to see this promising young act live and up close.

Like White Lies sound, which is heavily influenced by early '80s post-punk, the event itself was something of a throwback to a different time. With sagging sales in recent years, the music industry's habit of celebrating new releases with lavish parties has fallen by the wayside, yet Interscope/Geffen/A&M pulled out the stops for White Lies with an open-bar reception and performance in the cemetery's front hall.

I've long held the belief that no matter how good an album might be, you can't truly tell if a new band has the goods until you see it live. I'm happy to report that White Lies delivered in spades during its seven-song set. Singer/guitarist Harry McVeigh's vocals soared like a young Julian Cope. Drummer Jack Lawrence-Brown played with the power and precision of a finely tuned machine in perfect synch with Charles Cave's throbbing bass lines, and a auxiliary member added some nice keyboard flourishes.

A few songs into the set, McVeigh admitted, "This is the definitely weirdest place we've ever played." Yet as the band played, it really didn't seem that weird at all. Perhaps most telling was that the band managed to get the usually jaded industry crowd to move, something you rarely see at this type of event. Those who think that White Lies are nothing more than a group of young, dour Joy Division copyists should have seen the band's performance of "Death." McVeigh managed to turn the song's chorus, "This fear's got a hold on me," into a celebratory clap along. After all, if there is ever a place to celebrate "Death," I suppose it's at a cemetery. Check out the band's performance of the tune on the Jools Holland show below.

After the gig, as my friend guided his car though the cemetery's narrow roads, we noticed an illuminated American flag, hanging from a cenotaph, eerily blowing in the wind. I commented on how cool it looked, thinking was in honor of a fallen military man. But as the car veered closer, I realized it was the resting place of none other than Johnny Ramone. My friend was kind enough to pull a u-turn to allow me the opportunity to snap a photo.

I couldn't help but wonder what Johnny would think of White Lies, a band that likely wouldn't exist if he hadn't laid the groundwork. Without Johnny's buzz-saw guitar playing in the Ramones, there'd be no punk rock. Without punk rock, there'd be no post-punk, without post-punk, no White Lies. What do you think?