Television and Radio |

Artists to Watch: TV on the Radio

Thanks for staying past the first song,” says TV on the Radio singer Tunde Adebimpe from the stage of the Institute for Contemporary Art in London. Adebimpe has reason to be a little nervous: Not only are TV on the Radio playing their first gig in four months, they’re also debuting songs from their new album, Return to Cookie Mountain, a collection of hypnotic, shape-shifting tunes that has already earned raves from their buddy David Bowie.

Despite some rough edges, the new songs take flight with Adebimpe’s supple, soulful croon soaring over guitar fuzz, synth washes and stutter-stepping grooves. On a gorgeous version of “Ambulance” (from their first LP), David Sitek, the band’s thirty-three-year-old producer-guitarist, lays down a lung-taxing beatbox routine; the crowd clamors for a second encore.

The London gig is another tiny triumph for these unlikely heroes, a group of erstwhile visual artists with a far-out sound that Smiths fans can love. Cookie Mountain alternately evokes My Bloody Valentine’s noisy dream pop and Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, with songs that effuse pastoral beauty as they take off into uncharted territory. “It’s not often I hear other bands that are from the same planet as us,” says Kyp Malone, 31, the band’s hirsute singer-guitarist.

Formed in Brooklyn in 2001 as a sort of dadaist recording project for Sitek and Adebimpe, TV on the Radio didn’t release their full-length debut, the even more sprawling Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes, until 2004. But the album won the ’04 Shortlist Music Prize, and the band earned praise from artists as diverse as Morrissey, Mos Def and Trent Reznor. In February, they announced a deal with Interscope Records, which will release Cookie Mountain in June. The band also got some crucial help from Bowie, who appears on the shimmering slow-burner “Province.”

Bowie had been following TV on the Radio since 2003, when Sitek sold Bowie’s doorman a painting and passed along some of the band’s recordings. After surprising the group with an adulatory phone call, Bowie kept in touch with the band members, advising them on everything from how to deal with record executives to what to do with “Dry Drunk Emperor,” a Bush-bashing single that they recorded in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. (They released the track online, per Bowie’s suggestion.) “They have a strong link with the great body of American poetry, especially Beat poetry,” Bowie says. “The sampling, multitracking and mashing identifies them as the spawn of a techno-industrial society. I love the new record. I play it about three times a week, which is, like, saturation level for me.”

Adebimpe, 31, spent his childhood in a Pittsburgh suburb and in Lagos, Nigeria, the son of a pharmacist mom and a psychiatrist dad (who died unexpectedly last November). A student of stop-motion animation at New York University’s film school, he moved into a large Brooklyn loft in 1997; it was there that he met Sitek, an aspiring producer and painter who specializes in what he calls “children’s art with adult themes — like matadors falling in love with bulls.” While Adebimpe worked as an illustrator for MTV’s Celebrity Deathmatch, the pair collaborated with their buddies in the Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Sitek produced the band’s Machine EP, and Adebimpe directed a creepy stop-motion video — complete with a gratuitously abused Karen O doll — for the single “Pin.”

Around the same time, Adebimpe and Sitek made a series of messy four-track recordings and began playing shambolic live shows that regularly featured a doo-wop cover of Hall and Oates’ “Maneater.” In 2003, they enlisted Malone, and later added bassist Gerard Smith and drummer Jaleel Bunton, a lanky Kentuckian who had played in hip-hop bands. “It’s amazing how many people ask us if it feels weird to be black people playing rock music,” says Malone. “That’s the most absurd cultural amnesia you could imagine.”

When they’re not on the road, the members of TV on the Radio don’t exactly take it easy: Sitek is producing the new Massive Attack record, Malone takes portrait photographs, and Adebimpe has been discussing collaboration with indie rapper El-P and directing a series of short “commercials” for the band’s Web site that feature comedian David Cross.

Despite all this activity, the band seems genuinely unclear about where its recording career is leading — despite the fact that it is now part of the biggest record company in the world. “We’re constantly surprised,” Sitek says. “That’s the beautiful thing about this band: We can sustain our sense of wonder.”


The Hardest-Working Art Rockers in America

On a recent Monday, Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone — the dual frontmen of TV on the Radio — are lounging backstage at Boston’s Wilbur Theatre, chowing down on crab cakes and clam chowder for lunch. Topics of conversation include the election, Jay-Z and a phenomenon both guys find a little strange: getting approached on the street by random fans. “Whenever a stranger calls me by name,” Malone says, “I wonder, ‘Did I meet this person when I was drunk?’”

Malone and Adebimpe better get used to the attention. Dear Science, the Brooklyn quintet’s fourth album, debuted at Number 12 on the charts; a coup for an arty band that’s one of America’s most ambitious. Crowds have grown larger. Letterman and Leno are calling. Girls are coming to the shows.

Dear Science isn’t exactly Radio Disney stuff — Afro-beat rhythms and intricate electronic textures courtesy of producer-guitarist Dave Sitek are prominent — but it’s catchier and more danceable than the dense electronic noise of the band’s first few records. “We just wanted to make our version of a dance record,” says Adebimpe.

With three samplers and four horn players (plus guitars and drums), TVOTR tear into extended funk-laden versions of Science cuts like “Golden Age.” Offstage, they’re pretty mellow. Each member is in his 30s and tries to eat right and sleep well. Entertainment on the road is low-key: For Adebimpe, it’s watching DVDs of the Errol Morris interview series. Drummer Jaleel Bunton likes to jog. “Let’s just say we’re not Mötley Crüe,” says Bunton.

Backstage in Boston, Malone tells a story about the band eating mushrooms “by the handful” during a tour of Europe a few years ago. “I went swimming in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And I saw a vision of a death head surrounded by seraphim.” Malone says he has no plans to repeat the experience. Adebimpe concurs: “Oh, God, no.”

Two days after the Boston show, TVOTR gather in the basement of the Brooklyn Masonic Temple, having just played the second of three sold-out hometown gigs. They drink Stella and talk warmly with friends, family and girlfriends. Being home, if only briefly, makes Adebimpe a little wistful. “There are people at these shows who were there in the early days,” he says, referring to the small, messy gigs half a decade ago, back when TVOTR were just a half-serious recording project. “I want to say to those people, ‘Fuck, I can’t believe what’s happened either.’ “