April 19, 2019 | doors at 9:00pm
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If Michael Benjamin Lerner has given us nothing more than an opportunity to nudge the word
“effluxion” into the common vernacular, it is still a crowning cultural achievement. To truly
appreciate this minor linguistic marvel, you need to say the word out loud—do this right now,
wherever you are; it’s worth the stares. It comes from the Latin term meaning “to flow,” and
pronouncing it is the closest you will ever come to feeling like you’re in an episode of Star Trek.
But he has given us much more than that. The fifth full-length album he’s recorded as Telekinesis is
perfect, unfussy power pop—romantic and hopeful and skittish and fresh and familiar, with hooks
in all the right places. He called the album Effluxion because he too found the word a little alien
when he first heard it in passing, but it also captured the spirit in which the album was made. “I
looked it up and it felt really indicative of the way this record ended up working,” he says.
“Everything just started kind of flowing out.”
After Lerner largely traded guitars and drums for moodier synthesizers and drum machines on
2015’s Ad Infinitum —more OMD than GBV—Scottish indie-pop gods Teenage Fanclub invited
Lerner on board as a touring member in 2017. In addition to this being genie-lamp wish fulfillment
for a devoted acolyte (see: Telekinesis’ cover of “The Concept” and also pretty much everything
Telekinesis has ever recorded), playing those songs every night with his heroes brought him back to
known pleasures.
“When I got home, not only was I shit-hot on guitar and keyboard, I was like, ‘God, I fucking love this
music,’” Lerner says. “The one criticism I’ve gotten throughout my career is that I’m not trying to do
anything inventive, and my response is always, ‘I’m not trying to do that at all .’ What you’re hearing
is me regurgitating my favorite records.”
Effluxion is, in the purest way, a back-to-basics album—not just in its reaffirmation of the sound and
style that made Lerner an indie wunderkind a decade ago at age 22, but in the way it was created.
Using the same now-discontinued MacBook microphone he used to record his earliest tracks, he
holed up in the basement of his West Seattle home and put the album together piece by piece over
the past two years, playing every instrument. While previous albums had former Death Cab for
Cutie guitarist Chris Walla—who discovered and championed Telekinesis’ demos—and Spoon’s Jim
Eno serving as producers and sounding boards and sidemen and general voices of authority and
experience, Lerner wanted to do this one entirely on his own.
“I think I’ve always had the knowledge, but I never had the confidence,” he says. “If something is
feeling really good to me, then I don’t care if it’s lo-fi or if there’s a bad note somewhere. And that’s
how I felt when I made those first records. But this is the first time I can say it’s very much my own
singular vision.”
Lifted by a buoyant oh-whoa chorus, “Like Nothing” catalyzed and crystallized this consciously
retro process for Lerner, but the songs themselves don’t feel of any time in particular, no matter
how transparent they may be about their inspiration. Raised by a Beatles-obsessed father who was
a Seattle DJ for 30 years and educated as a teen at Paul McCartney’s Liverpool Institute for
Performing Arts, Lerner wears his influences on his striped t-shirt sleeve; “Suburban Streetlight
Drunk” proudly boosts the piano from Band on the Run ’s “Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five.”
Of course, there’s nothing unique about having been influenced by the Beatles; it’s about how that
influence is manifested. Quiet-loud-quiet first single “Set a Course” and “Cut the Quick”—which
Lerner considers one of the best songs he’s ever written—are so naturally infectious you somehow
already know them. More than mere pastiche, Telekinesis songs are specific enough to paint vivid
detail but universal enough to be about your life.
All of which goes back to the idea of effluxion. Ten years into what will be a long career destined to
be studied and mined the way he studies and mines those of the bands he loves, Michael Benjamin
Lerner is as much a medium of power pop as a manufacturer. Telekinesis has internalized the
science of catchiness and understands on a cellular level what makes certain kinds of songs evoke
certain kinds of chemical reactions. Hooks flow in, hooks flow out.
By way of familial candor and visceral vulnerability, singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer Joseph LeMay shares personal trials, tribulations, and triumphs under the moniker SONTALK. Throughout his burgeoning career, the artist had attracted a fervent following and critical acclaim on the 2014 solo offering, Seventeen Acres, released under his legal name. In the years since, the music transformed into a blend of delicate dissonance, distorted slide guitar transmissions, sequenced beats, vinyl samples and warm electronics, culminating in the April debut of SONTALK: Act I EP on Sony Music Masterworks. Initially meant as an introduction to his full-length debut, the EP’s lead single “I Am a War Machine” garnered praise right out of the gate as Stereogum claimed, “LeMay sounds vulnerable, but the sunny thumping instrumentation delivers enough momentum to aid in a kind of soul-saving atonement.”As he took the project on the road, the track generated over a million streams within a few months. The conversation has just begun.