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DIIV with April Magazine, Plutocrat Oilman
$30 adv / $35 door
All patrons will need to show valid proof of full vaccination in order to attend indoor shows at The Chapel. (“Full vaccination” means two weeks after your final dose of a COVID-19 vaccine.) We will NOT be accepting negative COVID-19 tests. You are also required to wear a mask at all times while indoors (unless actively eating or drinking.) *Policy is subject to change
DIIV is the nom-de-plume of Z. Cole Smith, musical provocateur and front-man of an atmospheric and autumnally-charged new Brooklyn four-piece.
Recently inked to the uber-reliable Captured Tracks imprint, DIIV created instant vibrations in the blog-world with their impressionistic debut Sometime; finding it’s way onto the esteemed pages of Pitchfork and Altered Zones a mere matter of weeks after the group’s formation.
Enlisting the aid of NYC indie-scene-luminary, Devin Ruben Perez, former Smith Westerns drummer Colby Hewitt, and Mr. Smith’s childhood friend Andrew Bailey, DIIV craft a sound that is at once familial and frost-bitten. Indebted to classic kraut, dreamy Creation-records psychedelia, and the primitive-crunch of late-80’s Seattle, the band walk a divisive yet perfectly fused patch of classic-underground influence.
One part THC and two parts MDMA; the first offering from DIIV chemically fuses the reminiscent with the half-remembered building a musical world out of old-air and new breeze. These are songs that remind us of love in all it’s earthly perfections and perversions.
A lot of DIIV’s magnetism was birthed in the process Mr. Smith went through to discover these initial compositions. After returning from a US tour with Beach Fossils, Cole made a bold creative choice, settling into the window-facing corner of a painter’s studio in Bushwick, sans running water, holing up to craft his music.
In this AC-less wooden room, throughout the thick of the summer, Cole surrounded himself with cassettes and LP’s, the likes of Lucinda Williams, Arthur Russell, Faust, Nirvana, and Jandek; writings of N. Scott Momaday, James Welsh, Hart Crane, Marianne Moore, and James Baldwin; and dreams of aliens, affection, spirits, and the distant natural world (as he imagined it from his window facing the Morgan L train).
The resulting music is as cavernous as it is enveloping, asking you to get lost in it’s tangles in an era that demands your attention be focused into 140 characters.
The purest a band can aim for is to present their milieu as a time capsule from the morning of. April Magazine deals deep in the hypnagogic charm of their surroundings. Since the 2018 release of “Shirley Don’t”— a sneaky classic that first turned ears outside their SF Bay Area home— the band has stirred out a handful of cryptic indie pop recordings nestled in warm aerosol hiss and scrappy hand-drawn cover art. Music that glints in the far back of an urban daydream where guitars could be bells, bells could be voices, and voices hardly find use in words. If The Ceiling Were A Kite is a document of things losing definition and time gone slack.
The songs on If The Ceiling Were A Kite were recorded over a span of about two years, after Peter, Mike and Kati started playing together around a four track cassette player in Peter’s bedroom. Other kindred spirits like Julia Waves, Ian Collins, Anthony Comstock OBC, Zach Vito, and eventually David Diaz joined in on some of the recordings and live shows adding to the collective ‘whatever works’ ethos of April Magazine.
777 Valencia St
San Francisco, CA, 94110