Loading the player...

Embed:

Song List

Comments

Show Review

Last month, along with most of the music and tech industries (and hey, maybe even a good amount of actual music fans too) we jet set down to Austin TX for the annual SXSW debauchery. Booze, BBQ, and Bands; a holy trinity of vices that no trip to Austin is complete without. Lucky for yall, we binged hardest on the music, camping out at Empire Control Room and Garage, inviting 11 bands and a couple thousands of our closest friends to get in front of our cameras. Today, were thrilled to begin a months-long rollout of Texas-flavored content from the event, beginning with a sweaty, sultry set from New York City rock outfit, Ex Cops.

Captured under a blood red lights inside the mysterious confines of The Control Room, this "Front Row Encounter" captures Brian Harding and Amalie Bruun trading vocals and musical style over a dynamic, 6 song set; expect a healthy haze of shoegaze darkness, percolating pops of the synthy stuff, and of course some crunchy club rock ahead. Pulling songs from both their debut, True Hallucinations and their new record Daggers, this slick set from Ex Cops is the perfect introduction to what will be a ton of concerts hitting the site in the next few months.

Transcript

All my energy.
Happy birthday, happy birthday.
Go to better times.
No relation, no relation.
Sometimes when I sleep.
Any other, any other.
You gotta be something soon.
You gotta be something.
Go to better times.
Great apartment, great apartment.
Waste my energy.
No rehearsal, no rehearsal.
Sometimes when I sleep.
Just wake me up now, wake me up now.
You gotta be something soon.
You gotta be something.
You.
You.
You.
Ahh.
Go to better times.
Happy birthday, happy birthday.
Waste my energy.
No relation, no relation.
Sometimes when I sleep.
Just wake me up now, wake me up now.
You gotta be something soon.
You gotta be something soon.
You gotta be something soon, soon.
- Thanks.
In another way, we're going home.
I could only sleep when I'm with you.
You're trying to stay a wasted one-- in a light that shines until it dies.
Separator I'm a separator.
I could only feel myself shaking.
I don't wanna be alone all my time.
There are times when you can't speak-- when you shy away from color TV.
You're trying to stay away from light.
It was only an hour, an hour away.
Separator I'm a separator.
I could only feel myself shaking.
I don't wanna be alone all my time.
Separator I'm a separator.
I could only feel my breaking away, away, away all my time.
- Thank you.
Taking all the drama far away from my face.
Trying to get those answers darkened in and out of my head.
Over and over and over again.
Over and over and over again.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
I wanna be loved.
I wanna be loved in silence.
Going to the disco-tech, nothing's wrong with me.
No doctor would give you any thing that you need.
Over and over and over the top.
Over and over 'til you had enough.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
I wanna be loved.
I wanna be loved in silence.
White noises, white noises, white noises talking to me.
White noises, white noises, white noises, what you do to me.
I wanna be loved.
White noises, white noises, white noises talking to me.
I wanna be loved.
White noises, white noises, white noises, what you do to me.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
White noises, what you do to me.
I want a white noise.
I want a white noise.
I wanna be loved.
I wanna be loved in silence.
- Thank you.
- We wrote this with our friend Ariel Pink on our new record.
It's called, "Burnt Out Love.
" Nail me to the cross against my eyes.
Throw me to the dogs, turn out the lights.
I don't know if you saw me.
Hold the dogs 'til the very end.
Still alive but I'm barely breathing.
How did I get here again? Got me to a sea of darkness for the very last time.
Burnt out love, no more love.
Burnt out love, no more baby.
I'm so sad to inform you, it's burnt out love.
Oooh.
Oooh.
Nail me to the cross against my eyes.
Face down in the dirt another night.
Wash away the tears of fire, even though you know I want it slow.
I don't know where I'm going, even hell's better than this place.
Got me to a sea of darkness for the very last time.
Burnt out love, no more love.
Burnt out love, no more baby.
I'm so sad to inform you, it's burnt out love.
Love.
Burnt out love.
Love, no more love, no more love, no more love.
Love, no more love, no more love, no more love.
Love, no more love, no more love, no more love.
Love. Burnt out love.
- Thank you so much.
Here we are still stuck in the crowd.
With illusions, heart full of doubt.
You fall in time, no windows, a casino.
You bleed on me.
This dress is so expensive.
If you go into the city, dry your eyes, you cry so pretty.
Naked hearts and imitation, take a picture, congratulations.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
Black soap, black soap.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
I was on the dark side of your dream.
With an empty stomach, your favorite scene.
But you can't afford me.
Take a sad song, you're making it worse.
You publicize tragic life, can never be cursed.
You try to die, but you're faking, you're not aching.
Go see about me and my best friends, it'll be your end.
If you go into the city, dry your eyes, you cry so pretty.
Naked hearts and imitation, take a picture, congratulations.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
Black soap, black soap.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
I was on the dark side of your dream.
With an empty stomach, your favorite scene.
If you go into the city, dry your eyes, you cry so pretty.
Naked hearts and imitation, take your picture, congratulations.
Ooh.
Ooh.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
Black soap, black soap.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
Black soap, black soap.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
Stay so clean, but you're obscene.
- Thank you so much.
- Thanks.
This is a song we love to play called, "Tragically alright.
" - It's also our last song.
- Word.
Blame me, blame me for all your problems.
Don't blame suicide.
Hey man, hey man, call me your best friend.
Don't make me drive.
Still life, picture perfect portraits.
Still born in time.
How long do we have to stay here? Still born in time.
Don't make me die.
Don't make me die.
I'm not gonna cry.
I'm not gonna frown.
Tears of a clown.
Tears of a clown.
I'm not gonna run.
I'm not gonna drown.
Tears of a clown.
Good song, bad life, vagabond in tragically alright.
Spare me all your explanations.
Don't even try.
Don't make me die.
Lonely.
It's so lonely on the dark side of the sun.
Blue lips dragging on the pavement and the whole world is dust.
Whole world is dust.
Whole world is dust.
I'm not gonna cry.
I'm not gonna frown.
Tears of a clown.
Tears of a clown.
I'm not gonna run.
I'm not gonna drown. Tears of a clown.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
Hey man.
- Thank you.
- Thank you so much.

Artist Bio

Ex Cops, a nomadic duo featuring Amalie Bruun and Brian Harding, brings the hook-heavy blast of '90s alt-rock into a new era on their second album Daggers. Executive produced by icon-of-form Billy Corgan and produced by Justin Raisen (Sky Ferriera, Charli XCX, Kylie Minogue), the record rescues guitar-pop from the bedroom, returning it to the stage it deserves.

Formed in 2011, the groups first album True Hallucinations, released in early 2013, was a critically-acclaimed collection of sprawling indie-pop. From the exuberant Spring Break (Birthday Song) to the bands dreamy debut You Are A Lion, I Am A Lamb, the John Siket-produced record (Blonde Redhead, Yo La Tengo) was a genre-jumping opening salvo and its wall-to-wall guitars set the tone for their new album.

Daggers is a musical about-face, though. We are not afraid of our favorite music anymore, says Harding. Its pop.

Billy Corgan, in addition to sharing the bands love of ABBA and taking them to their first wrestling match, provided form and texture to the new tracks over a two-week period in Chicago. The band then took the material to LA for tracking with Raisen and continued collaborating with artists like Ariel Pink, who co-wrote Burnt Out Love and features on Tragically Alright.

The result reinvents modern rock. White Noise, with its addictive chorus, merges guitars that could make your teeth ache and a motorik electronic pop pulse. The impeccably-produced Teenagers brings club-ready downtown pop to an anthemic peak, while Black Soap shifts shoegaze textures to stadium status and Rooms, one of the albums emotionally-resonant ballads, packs a substantial punch.

via

Editorial

About this Video

  • Duration:
  • 21:24
  • Views:
  • 322,905
Ex Cops

© 2016 Baeble Media. All rights reserved.