Maybe YACHT wouldn't be that sad if the complete and total annihilation of the human race happened tomorrow. The video for their song "Beam Me Up," off their recent album Shangri-La, finds the band playing around with the upsides of doomsday in a laser tag arena. Think of a future where cyber-soldiers fight each other in the smouldering metallic ruins of society, except with children shooting fake lasers.

"Beam Me Up" begins like the opening to an "invaders from outer space" sci-fi and ends with a yelp of exasperation. Singer Claire Evans, sounding like a new-wave Siouxsie Sioux, sings, "High above the clouds somewhere / The cold of space spreads thin / We endeavor to look out / They are looking in."

The sentiment in the chorus — that one day the narrator will watch her planet burn — sounds unfortunate. By the last stanza, however, it's obvious that the first impression is faulty. This narrator can't wait for the whole crummy Earth to blow up: "There are nights that I burn out / I drink deep from my cup / I look all around me / and think, 'Oh god, beam me up!'"

A song so enthusiastic about the downfall of mankind needs an equally dystopic video. Thankfully, when the band was traveling through Portland, Oregon earlier this year they met up with Into The Woods, a local culture/music/video blog, and performed as part of the blog's Far From Home video series. This series takes artists and gets them to perform a song in an unusual space — tour buses, arcades, and under bridges to name a few. Director Hannah Gregg and the Into the Woods team paired the retro sci-fi of "Beam Me Up" with the blacklit world of laser tag. The band gets into the manic energy of all the kids running around, playing along with the gigantic fake battle raging around them.

For YACHT's singer, Claire Evans, the combination of the "Beam Me Up" and laser tag was perfect:

Our song, "Beam Me Up," is about being so exasperated with the human race that rapture via alien abduction begins to sound appealing, so it was a perfect concordance to shoot our episode of Into the Woods at the heart of a fictional intergalactic war. That is the premise of laser tag, right?

In an email, director Hannah Gregg talked about the challenge of filming in the middle of a fake cybernetic war:

A laser tag arena is the epitome of challenging for a live performance shoot, and I knew it would take a band willing to commit to the strangeness of it all. We had a laser tag arena in mind for a shoot for a few months, but hadn't nailed down an artist that felt right for the shoot. It wasn't until two days before the band was to play a homecoming show in town that everything clicked — YACHT was the perfect fit. I emailed [YACHT member Jona Bechtolt] and 48 hours later we were hauling YACHT's gear into Laserport in Beaverton, OR. I knew this would be a challenging location, both for shooting and performance. Playing there meant setting up in the dark to perform in a weirdly situated blacklight room with little kids running around, techno dance remixes bumping between takes and two crews of cameras. It was sort of weird and stressful, but that was the point.

I was most excited about shooting YACHT in a laser tag arena because I wanted to see how they confront being in this strange and challenging location, and document the performance that arises out of that extra stress and unfamiliar territory. While the location is sort of funny in nature, to make this successful it needed a band that was going to take seriously actually how awesome of a location it was and be totally committed to the concept, and YACHT did just that. As an added bonus, it turns out Laserport is located right near where Claire grew up, so while it was far from the band's new home, there was a nostalgia for the area and the party room and the vests and the video games that made Laserport home for the afternoon.

Yacht's album Shangri-La is out now.

Enlarge Courtesy of the artist

Courtesy of the artist

The concept behind Ghettos and Gardens is simple: pretty strings over gritty basslines; dainty vocals atop punchy percussion; beautiful and foul servings of 4/4 beats. Justin Martin puts it this way:

"When creating music I usually set out to sweep the listener away with beautiful melodies only to lead them to earthshattering bass lines."

It's something he's done time and time again with singles released on the Dirtybird label, a San Francisco-based beacon of oddball house music, and it's what he does on "Don't Go," the first single off of his new debut album.

Listen: Justin Martin, 'Don't Go'

Don't Go

• Artist: Justin Martin
• Album: Ghettos & Gardens

• Add to Playlist
• Purchase Music

close

Purchase Featured Music

• "Don't Go"
• Album: Ghettos & Gardens
• Artist: Justin Martin
• Label: Dirtybird
• Released: 2012

• Amazon »
• Amazon MP3 »
• Itunes »

Your purchase helps support NPR Programming. How?

 

First, we hear a female voice sing the song's title over a skipping pattern of high hats and a looped string melody. So far, so lovely. Then the sounds swell (a distant echo creeps its way into the mix) and give way to a brief, suspenseful moment of silence, which is swiftly shattered by the attack of a drum kick paired with an electronic clap.

Martin works this mix of power and grace in a number of ways on the album. On the title track, the vocals are even daintier: delicate whisps of sound that evaporate into bass lines which, when heard on the right system, could conceivably do bodily harm. On "Butterflies," Martin sets cascading runs of keys fluttering around a barking synthesizer, and then peppers this dance with stabbing chords and metallic spasms.

Across Ghettos and Gardens, Justin Martin has managed to come up with a number of ways to communicate the same idea, but he does it well enough that the idea never gets old. It's a simple concept, handled with an impressive level of complexity.

On May 31, we'll live webcast and broadcast a concert by Regina Spektor from New York's Le Poisson Rouge. You'll be able to watch the whole thing live on NPR Music and via our apps as it's happening, beginning at 10 p.m. ET.

But if you're in New York City on the night of the show and want to go, we've got free tickets for you. Tickets are very limited, so grab one for you and a guest while you can on a first-come, first-served basis.

[UPDATE: TICKETS ARE NO LONGER AVAILABLE]

While Spektor's latest album is richly orchestrated, her performance at Le Poisson Rouge will be a stripped-down set, with Spektor joined by an additional keyboardist, a cellist and a drummer. She'll perform old favorites and introduce highlights from her new album, What We Saw From the Cheap Seats, out on May 29.

In addition to watching our live video stream, you'll also be able to hear the show broadcast on NPR stations, including WFUV and WXPN.

What record could you put on that would make everyone happy? What are the albums you think we can all agree on? That's our summer project, to find the 10 albums everyone can love. We're not asking for your favorite album or the best album. We're looking to find those few albums that are universally loved.

So, each week, now through the summer, we'll be asking you to give us a thumbs up or thumbs down on a list of records. Just tell us in the survey below whether you do or don't love the record. We start off with 20 albums.

Quizzes by Quibblo.com | SnapApp Quiz Apps

We'll need more nominations for future polls, so in the comments section tell us the records you think we should include. These should be the records you think you could play for anyone and they'd love it.

You can also hear us talk about the quest for universally loved albums on the latest edition of All Songs Considered.

Can a song that's about the fragility of life and the struggle to survive make you want to bounce around merrily? Somehow the Spinto Band's new song, "The Living Things," does just that. The song's lyrics that on their own could seem depressing — "true to life and in the flesh / though hanging on by just a thread" for example — are pushed aside by the jangly afrobeat-like melody. It's a song that, even though lead singer Nick Krill's voice wails about how he'll "be no good," leaves you with your toes tapping and a smile on your face.

The band's video for "The Living Things" also mixes this darker edge with a cheery outside. The video can be divided into two parts. The first segment follows a series of cute blob critters as they bend, twist, break apart, devour each other and explode. The drawn animation feels raw and reminds me of a few classic Sesame Street segments or a sunnier Don Hertzfeldt. The work is fluid and impressively keeps up with the jumpy instrumental bridges. My favorite part of the entire thing happens near the 1:50 mark into the video, when the band kicks up and an assortment of fantastic creatures quickly pop up on the screen and then vanish as fast as they came. It makes me want to go through frame by frame to see exactly what is drawn when.

"The Living Things" then switches its style but not its tone in the second part of the video — transforming to stop motion animation of the band wriggling and floating around an abandoned rooftop. While the people lack the impossible flexibility of the goo monsters, their herky-jerky style (very much like a flip-book) has an endearing charm.

Spinto Band singer Nick Krill told us he was surprised to see how similar director Phil Davis' take on the song was to his imagined music video:

It is strange, when I listen to this song I imagine people dancing under a big tent made of colored lights ... and when the song gets more rambunctious I picture them running at each other, jumping in to the air, locking arms (like in a square dance) and spinning around in mid-air until they kind of meld into each other. kind of strange, but there you go ... anyhow, I was excited to see that the director, Phil Davis, independently came up with a sort of similar idea and brought it to life ... but instead of people they are little amoeba things.

In an email, Davis described how he created "The Living Things'" animations:

"The Living Things" is a combination of hand drawn animation and pixilation (stop motion animation of humans). All of the roughly 2,000 drawings in the animation were created frame-by-frame by me over the course of 20 months. The animation frames were timed and synchronized to the music using an x-sheet, a method that dates back to the earliest sound cartoons created by the Walt Disney studios. The pixilation animation was greatly influenced by the work of Canadian animator Norman McLaren.

The Spinto Band's new album, Shy Pursuit, is out now.

I haven't kept an official ticker, but if government agents kicked in my door and forced me to pick the one album I've listened to more than any other, I'd have to say Neil Young's Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. It came out 43 years ago this week.

I'm assuming people still bond and develop lifelong friendships over a shared love for a given album, but Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere is also the last record I can recall playing such a vital role for me. I'd only just met the person who introduced me to it years ago and we went on to become close friends, in no small part by spending hours and hours playing extended versions of "Down By The River" on our acoustic guitars. Even now, months can go by without seeing each other, but when we get together, we can pull out the guitars and play seemingly endless versions of the song, much to our wives' glee!

So happy birthday, Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere! Thanks for the memories, and massive thanks to the dear friend who first gave it to me.

Take a humongous group of excitable jokers who have too much free time on their hands, mix in enough instruments to satisfy an entire marching band variety, toss a few gigantic pom poms and enormously-loud/elaborate outfits their way and you'll get Mucca Pazza. The Chicago-based band is a 30-piece (yes, 30 trombonists, trumpeters, guitarists, cheerleaders, and more) community of "circus punks" that makes music that sounds like the results of a rowdy weekend at band camp.

Mucca Pazza's new song, "Boss Taurus," feels like a musical debate: the trumpets make a declaration; there's a response from the guitars; and the lone tuba tries to get a word in edgewise. The pieces constantly break apart and then get back to working together to get you bouncing in your chair.

The video for "Boss Taurus" has a remarkably simple concept — the members of the band perform and goof off on a tiny stage for three minutes. Its simplicity makes it easy to be swept up in the wave of exuberance and flashy colors packed into those minutes. In that short time, we can easily recognize the personalities of the performers — the single slightly-harried tuba player compared to the funky sax machines compared to the cocky guitar gods. I could easily see this video as an excerpt of a much longer film where the band has to put on a show to save their community rec center from an evil oil baron. Everyone's slightly awkward, a bit askew and having the time of their lives on the stage.

Director Jim Newberry described to us in an email how he wanted to focus on all the boisterous personalities in the band:

For this video I wanted to keep things simple. The musicians of Mucca Pazza are incredibly vibrant, energetic, and anarchic, and I didn't want to get in their way by using a lot of self-conscious film-making tricks. So we decided on a simple but lovely set with one camera locked down in a wide shot with occasional roving close-ups. I had worked with the band before and seen them perform many times, so I knew I could pretty much let them do their expressive, hilarious, inspiring performance the way they wanted to and it would be fabulous.

One of the things I love about the band is how there are so many of them — over 30 — yet each band member has his or her own distinctive personality; each wearing their own non-uniform uniform. They're definitely a cohesive unit, but each individual's personality shines through. That's what gave me the idea of having shots of them one at a time, either running or walking through the frame, or just standing there.

Mucca Pazza members Meghan Strell and Sharon Lanza talked about planning and designing the video with Newberry:

Our dear friend Jim shot black and white portraits of everyone in the band a few years ago. When we asked him to shoot a video, he proposed making a video portrait. We started out talking about individual portraits and developed the idea to capture the interaction of each section of the band, or section portraits. We shot the whole song all the way through a couple times with each of the seven sections, to provide Jim with a lot of material to sort through in his editing process. We wanted to capture and contrast individual interaction on the section level, and convey the personality of the trombone section vs. the drum section, for example.

We intentionally made the set too small for the whole band, riffing off our experience at many rock clubs where our 30 piece band performs on a 12'x15' stage ... or less. Jim wanted the set to be "beautiful" in a way and inappropriate for a marching band. The quick turn around and collaborative nature of the process are representative of the Chicago arts community that Mucca Pazza is so lucky to be a part of. Chicago is a city of generous and multi-talented artists that get things done.

The band's new album, Safety Fifth, will be out June 12, 2012.

Note: This is a recurring series in which we ask our unimaginably young interns to review classic albums they've never heard before. Until very recently, Jenna Strucko was an intern for NPR Music.

Courtesy of the artist

My musical relationship with Simon & Garfunkel began with an influence that any self-respecting, music-loving twenty-something would now be ashamed to admit: The Garden State soundtrack. From there, my knowledge of Simon & Garfunkel continued to be informed solely by incomplete pop culture encounters with the duo. Even though I've heard "Mrs. Robinson," I've never seen The Graduate in its entirety. "America" breezed right by me in Almost Famous, and I never quite understood why the song surrounding a particularly poignant scene in 500 Days Of Summer was called "Bookends."

But now, my narrow cinematic context of Simon & Garfunkel has been broadened. Listening to Bookends was like reuniting with an old friend I didn't know that I had: only after hearing the album start to finish did I recognize that these songs have been around me all along.

Simon & Garfunkel hit on so many elements of music that I am naturally drawn to — simple instrumentation, thought-provoking lyrics with narrative leanings and arrangements that allow both to shine.

Enlarge Courtesy of the artist

Americana's cover art.

Courtesy of the artist

Americana's cover art.

You've never heard "She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain" quite like this. For their first album together in nine years, Neil Young and Crazy Horse have taken classic American folk music and reinvigorated these songs with muscle, radiance and a whole lot of electric guitar. Some songs from the 19th century include "Oh Susanna" (no banjo here) and "Tom Dula" (you may know it better as "Tom Dooley"). Then there are songs from the last century that include Woody Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land," complete with the original "deleted verses." Other surprises on the record, beyond the fiery versions of these songs, include a version of the 1957 doo-wop song by The Silhouettes, "Get a Job."

The album, Americana, comes out June 5, with performances by Young, Billy Talbot, Ralph Molina and Poncho Sampedro. We'll premiere this song today; you probably know it as "She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain," but here it's titled "Jesus' Chariot." This song, as with all the songs on the record, have been paired up with archival footage. This footage is from an early scene in D.W. Griffith's controversial 1915 film Birth of a Nation, in which the Southern Cameron family hosts a farewell ball for soldiers fighting for the Confederacy.

As for the song itself, Neil Young writes in the liner notes to Americana:

Written in the 1800s based on an old Negro spiritual, this song refers to the second coming of Jesus, and "she" is the chariot Jesus is coming on. Some interpret this as the end of the world. Others have said that "she" refers to union organizer Mary Harris "Mother" Jones going to promote formation of labor unions in the Appalachian coal-mining camps. The Americana arrangement continues the folk process with a new melody, a new title and a combination of lyric sources.

Enlarge Larry Marano/Getty Images

The Beach Boys on their 50th Anniversary tour. (L-R) Brian Wilson, David Marks, Mike Love and Al Jardine.

Larry Marano/Getty Images

The Beach Boys on their 50th Anniversary tour. (L-R) Brian Wilson, David Marks, Mike Love and Al Jardine.

On Wednesday night in New York, I saw The Beach Boys play a concert. Now, if someone back in 1962 told you that the band would be still making music in 2012, you'd think them crazy. But I'm here now to tell you that you'll be able to see The Beach Boys perform in 2062.

At the Beacon Theater, as part of the group's 50th-anniversary tour, I expected a decent show. What I got was fabulous: Nobody owns harmonies in rock music like The Beach Boys. Not The Beatles, not Crosby Stills and Nash, not Fleet Foxes. Nobody. All these years later, they're doing it without brother Dennis or brother Carl.

Their secret weapon — actually, their two secret weapons, are those arrangements of Brian Wilson and the decision to allow others to enrich and carry on the tradition. On stage for this 50th-anniversary tour are all the surviving members of The Beach Boys, along with 10 more musicians referred to as The Beach Boys Band, a group of dedicated followers and students of five-part harmony, surf guitar, rocking sax and good-time fun. From Jeffrey Foskett (covering Carl Wilson's falsettos and sometimes shadowing Brian Wilson's excursions) to Darian Sahanaja, who listened to the band as a child in Indonesia and later came to California and pieced together the fragments of the legendary Smile album into a cohesive touring work, these additional musicians are, in a sense, folklorists. It's with their tender care that I can imagine The Beach Boys performing in 2062.

Now, many would say that the essence of that band is the brothers — of course Brian, as the sole surviving brother, is the last of that thread. If founding members Mike Love or Al Jardine survive beyond Brian, they can call themselves The Beach Boys, but without the Wilsons, many wouldn't think of them that way. But there's something other than the individual performers that makes The Beach Boys into The Beach Boys — and while no one may ever write songs like Brian did, I'd ask you to imagine a group, on stage in 50 years, that includes no original members but can rightfully call itself The Beach Boys.

Here's why (stick with me): Our mind plays tricks on us when it comes to listening to music. For example, I was listening to the new TED Radio Hour, and the psychologist Paul Bloom came on to talk about an experiment The Washington Post did with the world-famous classical violinist Joshua Bell. They put him in a subway station in street clothes and had him play. And despite his brilliant performance, few stopped to listen. The question Bloom asked was this: "How much would people like Joshua Bell, the music of Joshua Bell, if they didn't know they were listening to Joshua Bell?"

And the answer is ... not so much. According to Bloom, "Apparently, to really enjoy the music of Joshua Bell, you have to know you're listening to Joshua Bell." I'm coming back to The Beach Boys in a second, but this all has to do with something called "essentialism," an idea that for humans, there is something to liking something beyond its physical property. History and back story are crucial to enjoyment. Bloom also uses this example to explain our preferences: Let's say I put identical glasses of wine in front of you and told you one was from Trader Joe's and one was from a collector's wine cellar. Odds are you'll like the one from the collector's cellar more. We like history. This has been shown to be true time and time again.

I come up against this notion on All Songs Considered a lot. It's why I try to listen to much of my music without knowing what I'm listening to. I want to react directly to the music and not its history, because it's so hard to separate the two once you know the story.

Finally, back to my theory: The Beach Boys in 2062. This music will be loved in 50 years because it will still have a connection to its origins. It will be tended to and cared for by lovers of the form, and we as an audience will continue to love the music, because we'll see the story passed down from one generation to another. These Beach Boys will have the essence of the real thing. And that's the essentialism so vital to our love of music, like the wine. As Bloom explains, "If you believe you're drinking expensive stuff, parts of the brain associated with pleasure and reward light up like a Christmas tree," he says. "You really experience it in a different way."

With The Beach Boys, we're witnessing that tradition being passed down, and it's that provenance that will keep this music vital and alive. For all those 2062 audiences who long only to hear those original harmonies, there will always be the records. But I'm telling you, after hearing these boys sing in 2012, even having lost so much of who they were, they sounded better than ever.

Justin Jones is a local D.C. talent. I've seen him a number of times often as an opening act. I've enjoyed his music but it wasn't until this new record that I went "WOW!" Jones has just finished a powerfully magnificent Americana album called Fading Light. This song, "Miracles" opens with over a minute of hypnotic rock that — if it wasn't played so well and recorded so well — would fit comfortably on a Velvet Underground record. But the rest of the song is good strong radio-friendly rock 'n' roll and I'm curious to see a D.C. native make it to airwaves.

The video for "Miracles" is one part handmade science fiction and one part familial drama. A shady-looking scientist sells supposed miracles on TV. A family clashes over whether they should turn to this less-than-credible fellow to try to help their daughter (his miracle device looks like it's 95 percent wires, so the husband has a right to be skeptical). What seems to be shameless hucksterism turns out to be the real deal and video ends with a moment of quiet calm. After all the bouncing around and the fun, the quick transition to stillness brings out the aftereffect of the miracle and makes it resonate emotionally.

In an email, Jones described his thoughts on writing "Miracles":

"Miracles" was written about that feeling I get when I think about how vast the universe is and how crushing that can feel. We're all running around thinking we have "important" things to do and we're just these tiny creatures on this tiny rock. And we're destroying that rock, and we don't really seem to care.

The video's concept was thought up by director George Burroughs and producer Matt Chenet. Basically I'm selling snake oil, want some?

Chenet wrote in about trying to connect the visuals to the feeling of "Miracles":

We've been fans of Justin's music since we were first introduced a few years back, and we've worked together on a handful of projects since. For the "Miracles" video, we wanted to produce something that complemented the high energy and production value of the song, but also captured the conflicting emotion of the lyric. Much of Justin's music seems to walk the line somewhere between heartache and despair on the one end, and hope and resolution on the other. We felt it was important for the video to reflect that conflict, both in the overall aesthetic and the story itself.

Justin responded to the 'Salesman' idea early on, and from that point, George came up with the story of our conflicted family in search of a Miracle. After reading the treatment, Justin suggested asking his friends, the Hobens, to play our family, and fortunately for us — they agreed. We were all surprised with how naturally Justin, Kylie and Ruby Hoben took to their roles and played them with the understated style of experienced actors. Once we walked through the first few shots on set with our full cast — we knew we had something cool.

We built our sets in an empty row house rented by the 930 club, so that we could create the feel we wanted from the ground up and control every aspect of the shoot.

Justin Jones' new album, Fading Light, is out now.

Courtesy of the artist

Not every title fits its song, but 'Painting On A Canvas,' the fourth track from the Iranian-Canadian producer Amirali's debut LP, which comes out next week, makes it easy to imagine brushstrokes landing on a blank page.

Listen: Amirali, 'Painting On A Canvas'

Painting On a Canvas

• Artist: Amirali
• Album: In Time

• Add to Playlist
• Purchase Music

close

Purchase Featured Music

• "Painting On a Canvas"
• Album: In Time
• Artist: Amirali
• Label: Crosstown Rebels
• Released: 2012

• Amazon »
• Amazon MP3 »
• Itunes »

Your purchase helps support NPR Programming. How?

 

If you'll forgive the mixed metaphor, this painting unfolds in three acts. The first has the artist teasing out his palette: a bluish chord of keys here, metallic strikes trailing off to black there, bright daubs of guitar, and an accelerating dribble of wood-block clicks. In an e-mail Amirali explained the song's concept.

"When I came up with the base of this song, my imagination was suddenly splashed with different colors and images. I could feel that I was throwing colors with different brushes on an enormous canvas."

What begins as swirling abstraction, with each stroke placed loosely on the tail of its predecessor, solidifies around a hip-hop beat at 1:46, introducing the second act. The sound of a nylon-stringed guitar carries the song's honeyed melody, and the song's parts — the piano, wood block, metallic percussion and the like — are given a new context. With a beat to anchor the ear, these loosely correlated sounds now cohere.

Amirali says the song draws heavily from his Iranian heritage. Towards the end of the song, that influence becomes clear.

"I have used an Iranian wind instrument, 'Ney,' which can be heard in traditional Iranian music. Towards the end of the track you get to hear the breath-taking voice of an Iranian man singing in his regional dialect, which is manipulated by weird and spacey effects."

That singing marks act two's shift into darker territory. The ominous bassline figures more prominently into the mix, that voice reverberates coldly against the canvas, and suddenly the beat gives way to a braying reed sound. The last act mirrors the first: Vivid strokes, cast liberally, yet purposefully.

I remember so clearly when Paul Simon headed to South Africa. His trip there was controversial in the midst of growing boycotts surrounding apartheid. I imagined with odd certainty that somehow Paul Simon would be killed. I spent the better part of a weekend listening to his music, sad and scared. Fortunately, nothing happened — only my love for his music became stronger.

Simon's journey was, incidentally, born of a desire to rekindle a fading career, but he returned with music that we'd be singing all these years later ... Graceland.

It's hard to believe it's been 25 years since Graceland's release. To celebrate, Simon is releasing a reissue of the album and a new documentary. Under African Skies follows Simon on a trip to South Africa earlier last year to discuss Graceland's legacy and the controversy surrounding the album's creation. Directed by Oscar-nominated documentarian Joe Berlinger, the documentary features interviews of musicians like Quincy Jones, Paul McCartney, and David Byrne. In this exclusive clip from the documentary, Harry Belafonte and guitarist John Selolwane discuss traveling around the world on the 1987 Graceland tour. There's also footage from the tour, where you will probably wince at the horribly-outdated fashion choices you can see in the audience.

The 25th anniversary edition of Graceland will be released June 5th.

Enlarge Alysse Gafkjen

Dr. John (right) with Black Keys singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach, who produced Locked Down. In April, the pair played songs from the album at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.

Alysse Gafkjen

Dr. John (right) with Black Keys singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach, who produced Locked Down. In April, the pair played songs from the album at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.

Dr. John's latest album, Locked Down, was produced by Dan Auerbach, the guitarist and singer for The Black Keys. As Auerbach told NPR earlier this year, he wanted to coax something autobiographical from the revered New Orleans singer, who has built his career on inhabiting a very specific persona.

"I wanted to surround him with younger guys. To test him a bit," Auerbach said. "I also wanted him to talk from the Mac Rebennack perspective, lyrically. I didn't want him to talk from the Dr. John perspective."

Now, we have the one-and-only music video from the album, a behind-the-scenes look at how Rebennack becomes Dr. John over three and a half minutes of horn-laden rock that are simultaneously relaxed and tightly wound.

Directed by Reid Long, the video for "Revolution" was shot over three nights in April during a residency at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. It features footage of Rebennack and his band, including Auerbach, rehearsing onstage in an empty theater at BAM and hanging out backstage, before an audience begins to fill the auditorium's seats. Then, about halfway through the song, the music drops out as Dr. John, decked out in a blue suit, feathered straw hat, gator-tooth necklace and a long braid, steps into the spotlight and growls, "Let's all just pray on it right now."

The video is the result of a collaboration that began on a different stage, at last year's Bonnaroo. Auerbach invited Dr. John to participate in a jam at the festival, then went into the studio to record Locked Down in Nashville over the fall.

"We cut some tracks, then I whipped up the words, and that's how we got started recording the song," Dr. John wrote in an email. "Dan brought in The McCrary Sisters to do backup and made some shifts to make it work with them. When we got back together in Brooklyn last month for BAM, it all fell right back into place."